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"I-I hardly know, Sir, just at present-at least I know who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I must have changed several times since then."

I was an idiot. At least, I was.

I am writing all of this seemingly useless information down because I want to remember it. I don't normally write down things like this. I hate writing about my life normally. I prefer all those hit lists and how to get revenge on this person and that person and so on. I don't like putting something down on paper that can come back and hurt me later. Father always told me that a part of power is being able to not get hurt, immortal so he says. But the way he said led me to believe he didn't just mean physical power. I believe he meant mental. And writing down hardships to get them out of one's head, then have them shoved down their throat ten years on seems worse than keeping it pent up inside.

Actually, I can tell Father fears everything I write. He doesn't like me writing at all, I can tell. He's a hypocrite though. I used to be able to walk in his room, before he got that damn cat. He calls it a cat anyway. It's a Pooka; I knew that straight away. No cat has slanted gold eyes with hardly a pupil like that. But it always stays a cat, though the normal form of a Pooka is a black horse. Don't ask how I know this. I just do. The Pooka is a dark creature, a creature of the night. And of unspoken evil. To no surprise, it is illegal to have one. So it's disguised. Besides, I have heard it talk. It-

Why am I saying all of this? If anything, I am going to get my father arrested. But seriously, what's so bad about a Pooka? That idiot Ministry doesn't even know what they can do.

Anyway, that evil thing keeps me from his room. A lock would have been easier; he used to have a lock. But he took it down and bought a Pooka. Maybe he likes being illegal. I don't know. And it lunges at me every time I even walk down the hall, tail whipping and eyes flashing. Though it always had that bored lazy look. I know it would never hurt me, but still....

Actually...I can not understand why I am writing this at all. I can remember it perfectly, that whole day, word for word for word. I will remember that day forever, if not longer. So why write it down? Forever, if not longer. How disgustingly pathetic. If anyone sees this, I shall surely die, or kill myself, whichever is easier. I would never hear the end of it if anyone at all found this. Seeing as I have no friends to back me up...except maybe Pansy, if you could call her a friend. But she'd flail me alive if she read this.

It was the day of the damn Yule Ball. I dreaded that evil dance. I hate social events. I wonder how I even survive school, having to shall a building, much less a room, with other people. I hate people. All of them. They hate me too. They hate me because I am sarcastic, cynical, pessimistic, and an all around jerk. Some call me arrogant, but what do they know? And self centered, nobody's called me that before. Except Harry did once. But I'm not, why care about people if you hate them? Hell, I don't even care about myself. Unlike SOME people. Sad as it may seem.

I had advanced arithmancy first. Dull, boring, stupid, useless, tedious. Just a waste of time. My father could teach me whatever I wanted, but no...He sent me off to school, and not even a good one. He could have sent me to Durmstrang, where they dump the dull subjects like this and History of Magic, and devote it to learning the Dark Arts. What's the point of learning Defense against them anyway? If you don't even know what you're against? Or with, for that matter?

It was one of those rare classes that only 'accelerated' and 'gifted' students were in. I hate to say this, but...it was basically a class of twenty-two kids...with six guys. Yea, call me sexist or whatever, but I grew up with an idiot mother and a disturbingly ingenious father, so what can I expect? Three of the guys are Ravenclaws, one a Gryffindor, and two Slytherins. The Gryffindor was Dean. Or shall I say...gryffindor? I pretty much ignored him. I mean, he looked at me with wide eyes a lot. And did the sign against evil a lot. And got annoyed every time I corrected him. More than annoyed. But who cared? Was it my fault he was an idiot? No...Besides, it was, and still is, highly amusing to bother him. That was how it started anyway...I think.

The teacher had asked some long and complicated question, and, as usual, I knew the answer but didn't raise my hand. I never do. Why bother?

Dean looked shocked, then cried out in that slang he always talks, "Wot? What is this? This ain't right, no way is this right man! You gatta be wrong! Look in them books! You'll see!"

That irritates the hell out of me. How can one talk like that? It's pathetic. "Ain't is in a dictionary, but it's not a word in this language. You have got to be wrong, not gatta. And look in those books, not them books." I hissed softly. He sat in front of me, and turned around, looking especially annoyed. I have nothing against Africans, I seriously don't. If anyone talked like that it would tick me off.

"You talking at me?" he gasped, obviously trying to show off to some idiot girl.

"No. I'm talking to the bacteria on your desk," I shrugged, keeping the blank look I know he hates so much.

The teacher frowned and looked at me. "Do you happen to know the answer, Draco?"

"Yes."

"What is it then? Waste your breath helping the class, not annoying the students within."

"Y4Ã" I frowned.

It was right, needless to say. Not that it mattered. I never honestly understood what the point was of learning things like that.

Every single person in the class turned and stared at me at this point. I sat in the back, so it was easy for everyone to do so.

"Who else knew the answer?" the teacher snapped. Hermione's hand shot up, to no surprise. Cho's did too. That kind of surprised me, no offence. I knew she was smart, but most of the school calls her a ditz, and ditzes aren't smart. Ditzes are ditzes. And jerks are jerks. Draco is a jerk.

The teacher looked at her book and frowned. "You three see me after class."

I shall stop for a moment. I have never written so much in such a short period of time. It's hardly been five minutes.

I went to see her after class. I didn't have much of a choice. I was constantly running the risk of getting expelled, I still run that risk every day. This temper of mine knows no curb, and my rage knows no bounds. I continually lashed out at teachers verbally, and students physically, every single time I was offended, of even my family, or even, in some cases, the Slytherin house.

Professor Cueliny is a bit...psychotic, and I have always been slightly afraid of her. It is just wrong for one to be so excited over a new arithmancy book. Unless you're Hermione. In which case you have no life to begin with. But who am I to judge? What exactly is a life?

I can't even remember what she told us. Maybe I can not remember this day as well as I thought I could. Maybe I only remember the most important parts. And that wasn't really important. It just kind of started off the day, and I thought it was important. But...never mind. I am rambling again. Maybe I should write down more of my life, I can't even control what is coming down.

Well, I suppose you could say it started getting messed up after that class. I returned to the Common Room for ten minutes, only to run head on into Pansy, who stood in the doorway, a disgustingly triumphant look on her face as she brandished a mirror.

"Hello Dracooo..." she cooed. Literally.

"I wasn't aware my name was 'Dracuu'." I hissed.

She giggled then, that stupid hollow airhead giggle all the ditzes do whenever there's a dance around. Damn dance.

"You're coming with me, right?"

"I'm what?" I said, struggling to keep a blank face. I guess I thought I could get out of it if I didn't know it was happening.

"You're taking me to the Yule Ball!" she smirked. She had glitter on her face, a lot. And when she smirked, it glinted so much in the dim light it appeared she was metal. About as stupid as a muggle's toy robot at that.

"Um....and who told you that?"

"You did!"

"I did?" I was confused. I still am. I still do not know where that came from. I hated that girl, and preferred to run away from her than to even look at her. She was one of the most hollow people I have ever met. More hollow than my mother, which is a bit sad. Maybe my own father is hollow too. He may be a genius, but he has no idea how to act around people, and no idea how to pick a wife. He could have at least picked one that can piece two sentences together....DAMN! Why am I saying this???

Pansy was standing there, in my way, whether I wanted her there or not. And I couldn't get by her without knocking her over. She would have taken it as a flirtation move if I shoved her, or even brushed by her for that matter. She still calls me 'cute' when I 'act huffy'. She still ticks me off too.

"Who says I'm going to the dance even? Maybe I have better things to do. Like get to Potions."

She stomped her foot and slid over. "What? Well! You liked me back in our first year!" she cried.

"I what?"

"You did! I asked you out....."

"And I said no, you fool."

"Yes! But it took you a few minutes! You were just shy."

"I was just mortified."

Call me arrogant, but I am proud of that line. I find it funny. She didn't though. But she was so stupid she forgot everything I told her after five minutes. Luckily I was halfway to Potions by the time she got over her anger and came to bother me again. And I was in Potions before she asked me again. Barely.

I had taken three steps into the classroom, filled only with those gits, The MudBlood, The ScarFace, and The Weasel.

"O Draco! Don't forget the dance tonight!" she giggled.

"Don't worry. Your whiny voice is permanently imbedded in my mind. And in my nightmares." I added as an afterthought. Potter, Weasley, and Granger were staring at me by this time.

"Well, Malfoy." Harry smirked. "Stinks to be the hottest guy in the school now, eh?"

I scowled. For some reason he has decided that the way I walk shows that I think I'm the 'hottest guy in the school'.

"I believe the hottest guy in the school is the dragon that was living in Hagrid's hut in our first year."

Weasley paled. "When are you going to drop that?"

"How did you know it was male anyway?" Granger asked quietly.

"So sue me, I'm a genius. I have only been named after dragons. I think I know a bit more about them than you." I took my seat, which was, unfortunately, next to her. At least the aisle was between us. A mere two feet or so of space. Pity it wasn't two miles.

She glared at me for half a second before opening up her book. Then I remembered. We had a test that day. A test I didn't study for in the least. Not that it mattered. Potions was rather pathetic.

"Tsk, doing some last minute cramming, eh, Mudblood?"

"Shut up, Malfoy. At least I care about my grades."

"My father worries about them for me." That was true. It always will be true. He's more concerned about my academic success than I ever was, am, or will be.

I wished...I mean, I sighed. I do not know why I said that, wrote that. I sighed and leaned back in my seat, starring at the ceiling and waiting for the rest of the class to come. Pansy had promptly started ignoring me, as did everyone else, and I felt more alone than I did when I was alone at times. For I have paranoia, and I can never help but feel that someone is always watching me. I've never gotten used to it, and I fear I shall always have that problem. I forget that I'm with people, or I forget I am alone. I never really know where I am. I'm just here, or there. I'm just existing.

The class, was, to an ironic surprise, about Polyjuice potion. I ignored it though. I didn't care. I always keep a stash of that under my bed, or even with me, constantly, as my father taught me. You never know when you may need it. What better way to spy is there? None that I know of. None that anyone knows of. That's why this potion is so illegal. It would be simple to sneak into a Ministry meeting.

Hell with the class. The class was dull. The entire morning was dull.

I am confusing myself the more I write.

Well, I didn't start thinking about the dance at all until halfway through lunch. I wasn't hungry, as usual, and I was just sitting there spacing out, wondering how many people I could get to think I was staring at them, when Potter walked by with his pathetic minions again. They were deep in conversation about some idiot or another, I caught the name 'Black' once, not that it mattered. I didn't care about Black. I knew he was a good guy, and I didn't care for good guys then. For the heck of it though, I reached out my foot and tripped Weasley. He fell against Blaise, which was a bad idea, she whipped her hand over and smacked him before spitting in his face and stalking off to sit elsewhere.

"Watch where you're going, Weasel..." I sneered, making sure to place my foot under the table again so he knew it was on purpose.

"I suggest you watch where you put that foot, Malfoy," Harry said calmly, "You might get it bitten off someday."

"I suppose Hermione has the teeth to do so." I shrugged.

"They're normal now you arrogant jerk!" she cried.

"Arrogant jerk, now that's a good one."

Harry was looking impatient by this point. "C'mon guys, he's not worth our time." he turned to walk away.

"Have anyone for tonight yet, Potter? Taking the little mudblood?" I shouted at his receding back.

"No!" all three of them cried at once.

"Who are you going with anyway, Herm?" Ron asked nonchalantly.

"You'll see." She shrugged.

"She means you'll see when she doesn't even go." I laughed.

Ron raised his fist and started back toward me again. He was a weakling anyway.

"WE HAVE TO GET READY FOR OUR NEXT CLASS!" Harry shouted.

"What was that all about?" Cho walked by several minutes later. She was okay, a pureblood at any rate, and a Ravenclaw, closest to my house.

"They're just bitching about something or another." I shrugged.

She giggled. That bothered me, it always has. For some reason everyone with short haircuts like hers giggles. It's extremely annoying.

"You going with Cedric?" I said after a moment.

"Yep." She shifted her books and straightened her blouse.

"Draco's going with me!" Pansy cried.

I coughed loudly. Cho got the picture quick. "Have fun..." she laughed and trotted away, singing loudly some song in Chinese or Japanese or whatever she is. I caught the word 'Ai' several times, which is 'love' in Japanese, so I stopped listening.

I had History of Magic next, and I trudged down the hall in a half daze, suddenly disoriented. My father told me it was my OCD that gave me these confusion attacks, but I think something in my brain is messed up. I was thinking about Hermione, I know that, and I was wondering who the heck could possibly want to go to the dance with her, when I tripped over Ginny, who was sitting on the ground looking sulky. I swear, every girl in the school was out to get me.

"I'll tell Ron if you touch me again." She pouted without averting her gaze from the wall in the least.

"I wouldn't want to touch you again, faggot." I hissed.

"I'll tell Ron you called me a faggot." She said again.

"I don't care what you tell your namby pamby brother. He couldn't hurt me if he tried."

"He's not namby pamby!"

"Is to!" I cried, resorting to my sulky schoolboy tone I used when arguing about something petty. I had the thought half in mind to cross my arms and pout just to imitate her. I never got the chance though, because my favorite person strode down the hallway, deep in a conversation with Cho. Damn it, least favorite person. I hate ink.

"I wonder who's going with Harry?"

"Yea...we're the two champion girls so far!" Cho punched the air half heartedly before bursting into laughter.

"You're going with Krum! HA! I feel bad for the guy!" I shouted then.

Hermione stopped in her tracks. "Yes...what does it matter to you?"

I shrugged.

Ginny jumped up then. "He's being a jerk! He tried to kill me!"

"Kill you? You're the idiot who was sitting on the damn floor!"

"Why were you sitting on the floor?" Cho said calmly.

"Because." Ginny blushed furiously at the sight of Cho, who was two years older and the idol of third year girls.

"I think I'll leave now before I get wafted into your stupid talk." I turned away.

"Wait, Malfoy." Hermione snapped. "What did you do?"

"Why don't you ask her? You'll believe her anyway." I bolted then, realizing I was already seven minutes late.

I slid into my seat four minutes later, seeing as I had been wandering on the wrong side of the school entirely. Binns looked up for half a second. "And where have you been, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Master Malfoy to you!" I shouted.

He frowned and ignored me while the rest of the class laughed loudly. It was a small class anyway, nine kids. Easy to please.

I zoned out once again, Hermione on my mind again.

It wasn't on purpose. It just happened. My mind kept drifting to her, even though I hated her. She had never done anything nice to me, except the time back in our second year when I went out to the trees by the lake. I can't remember what happened, I think I got in a fight with someone. I always get in fights, everyone insulting my family in general. One of my eyes had gotten cut somehow, most likely because I had gotten punched hard, so I couldn't see right. I was more mad than anything though, so I slumped against the tree and stared out at the lake for a minute before sliding to the ground and crushing my eyes shut. The fog was so thick that on top of the blood I could see nothing anyway.

But I remembered that Hermione was watching me. I never actually saw her, I just kind of knew. She stood there, maybe six feet away, for the full hour I was out there, just starring. Besides, Pomfrey gave her away. After a while I guess someone told the nurse my eye was bleeding a puddle onto the school grounds and she was down there in a flash, but not before talking to Hermione. I still remember her terrified gasp when she said her name out loud. I remember I had jumped up then, opening my eyes and swearing at her, but she was already gone, and I got a detention for using vulgar language toward a professor.

It was her fault I got the detention anyway, so her 'nice' act was worse that she thought. There was also the time she told Mad Eye Moody to stop harassing me as a ferret, but that didn't matter. She probably didn't want me dead because if I'm dead she can't bother me. I still plan on killing Moody. Father had a heart attack practically when I told him and said something about speaking to Voldemort when he had risen again. I didn't question. I wonder why now. He had never spoken of his master rising again since the time he got sacked for that in my second year, and now it's suspiciously clear, not that it matters.

And why Krum??? Why not...

I remember how I jumped up from my seat and shouted: "DAMMIT DRACO!" when that thought crossed my mind.

I remember everyone staring at me oddly but then ignoring it. Just psychotic Draco, no big deal. Just rich, arrogant, self-centered, evil, snotty, stuck-up, maniac-depressive, obsessive, paranoid, cynical, sarcastic, pessimistic Draco. I love my reputation. Everyone ignores me when I do something wrong and everyone loves me when I do something even worse. For once in my life I wish someone would like em for who I am.

I sat back down again, frowning, deep in thought. Why Krum? What had Krum ever done to her? Or, perhaps for her? So many people knew her longer.

The rest of the day passed, case in point. Those ugly thoughts clouding my mind. Every time I had ever done something nasty to her, said something nasty to her, made fun of her behind her back. It was too late, it didn't matter, she was going with Krum. Besides, she hated me. Perhaps because I have never had anyone love me, I don't know how to act when I like someone, and I act wrong. I have always been a lot nastier to her than anyone else, if only she would notice that. Maybe she would understand then.

The rest of the day crawled onward. Pansy haunted me so much I finally gave in and told her I would go with her just so she would shut up. She didn't though. She then followed me around babbling about what I should wear and how I should fix my hair. I never fix my hair, I half the time don't even touch it.

She had decided on some disgusting pink thing that looked like it wouldn't fit a cat, but I didn't bother asking. Playing stupid is the easiest way out of some stuff. She then found her way into MY dorm and started tearing through all of my cologne, trying to find one that she liked.

I was very tempted to kill her. Very. I still am actually. As she will be to me if she ever finds and reads this. For what I did to her at the dance was beyond rude, like I cared.

An hour before the dance I got away from her by telling her I had to take a shower and I was locking her out of the boy's dorm. She flounced off to brag to half the school about how she was going with me. More like out of the sixty eight people who asked me she was the most persistent.

I supposed anyone would be flattered. I mean, sixty-eight girls...that's a fourth of the female population here. And Harry got asked, what, twice? But I wasn't glad. I hated it. I wish sometimes I was ugly, but no Malfoy has ever been ugly. My father calls it a curse. My father who looks twenty-three at most at age forty.

I slid out of the bathroom and surveyed the dorm for several minutes before moving. Spacing out. What I do best. It occurred to me then that I had less than a half hour before I would have to leave.

Black. I wanted to wear black. No question about it. Black suit. Almost like those muggle suits, with my black robe/coat over it. Black boots as usual. Black belt, possibly the one with the snake's skull as the buckle. All my clothes were black anyway, except maybe a few shirts. Made it easy to find stuff to wear.

It hit me again then. Just like that. I wasn't going to do it. But now I felt like I had to. I slipped my hand under my bed and pulled out the flask. It was full, luckily enough. The door swung open and I whipped around, shoving it deep into my pocket.

"Hey Crabbe..." I mumbled, trying to look like I was supposed to be sitting on the floor in my best clothes.

He grunted a reply and picked up a tie off of his bed. I shrugged and stood up, nervously pressing my hair flat over my forehead before walking slowly past him and out the door again.

I immediately relaxed upon entering the room, almost normal again. Why was I so uptight anyway? But I knew why, and I wasn't sure I liked it.

Forget it. I'm not going to write about moping around the common room looking sulky, that's what I spend half my life doing anyway. I'm skipping to when I walked into the ballroom. When everything started going awry. I'm starting to get a headache anyway.

The Great Hall was so vastly different I nearly fell back against the wall when I walked in. I have this deep hatred for things being changed without my approval, even if it's for the better. Pansy punched me in the small of the back the second I froze though. Idiot. I wonder how she thinks I like her at all. It makes no sense whatsoever.

I saw Hermione a few minutes later. She swept into the room with Krum. That's not what startled me though. It was the fact that she wasn't a nasty mudblood anymore. It was insane. Even the way she carried herself had changed, and now I was staring at what was practically a goddess, a fairy queen. Something as utterly bizarre and wrong as Dumbledore being a Slytherin.

Harry and Ron suddenly pointed to me and laughed. I winced and swore loudly, realizing I was gaping. Pansy seemed not to notice, and waved at all the Ravenclaw girls who had asked me, laughing. My claustrophobia was setting in by this point, and I wanted nothing more than to run outside.

"I'm getting food." I said abruptly and strode off just as the first song was starting. I didn't want to see her dancing with someone, anyone.

My usual dankness was closing in again. Every thought in my mind boiling and twisting into deep hatred for all things living. I slid off into the darkest corner of the room where the food was, trying to avoid looking into anyone's eyes. My father once told me that when I get really mad about something my eyes change to a glassy silver and it's extremely obvious that I want to kill someone.

I didn't exactly want all attention averted to me unless I did kill someone.

I crashed into Cedric then. I didn't even realize the song was over. He and Cho were leaning against the table, she furiously reading something aloud in her own language and trying to get Cedric to understand. Every few seconds Cho would laugh and say something about someone being an idiot. Cedric would automatically laugh then.

Stupid, I know, but connected somehow.

Everyone here had a friend or some sort. Someone to care about, someone to go to, someone to love. I was alone though. Maybe I liked it, but I knew I didn't. Just let everyone think I liked it.

I know I'm anti-social. I know I hate people. But everywhere I go the fact that everyone has someone is rubbed in my face. I've never had anyone at all. My parents barely acknowledge my existence. The whole school hates and fears me. The only people who are remotely nice to me are terrified of what my father would do to them if they were jerks. There's also those idiot girls who like my looks and nothing more. They don't even talk to me. Just point and coo and giggle, every now and then making an extremely vulgar comment. The kind Pansy is famous for.

It's almost as if I don't exist. Almost as if no one knows I'm actually a human. A dark cynical human, but a lonely one nonetheless.

I reached for the flask again and frowned.

Who else but Krum and Hermione came by next. They both glanced at me oddly for a moment before she daintily picked up a cookie. I sneered at her and backed farther into the corner.

"What's the matter, Malfoy? Your girl run off?" Hermione smirked and glanced over at Krum, who was trying to see how many cookies he could pick up un-noticed.

"More like I ran away from her." I snapped without thinking, realizing how dumb it sounded but not caring.

I turned away, fingering the flask in my pocket for a few seconds before sliding out of their view behind a pillar.

"Impervius..." I hissed.

I winced, realizing that if anyone heard me I was old enough to go Azkaban. You have to be thirteen, as I am. But no one seemed to notice. The music was too loud, the people were too loud, the food was too good, the colors and lights were too bright for anyone to notice the whispered word, the tiny flash. It was done. Krum was under my control.

I suddenly felt a whole lot calmer.

Go toward the bathrooms...I muttered to myself. Leave Hermione, tell her you'll be right back. Just go down the hall quickly and try not to let anyone see you...

I had used the charm only once before, and I wasn't exactly sure how it worked. But I guess I was doing it right, for he did what I said. Good. Now open the door and wait...

He was still walking down the hall. Hermione had looked puzzled for half a second, then shrugged it off. She looked around, probably to make sure I wasn't near her, then started talking to Cho next to her. Within seconds the two of them were laughing with Cedric.

Friends.

The word bit me bitterly again.

Something I'd never have. At least for tonight I would...maybe...

Wait there for me.

I edged by the table again, trying to look nonchalant, and slid down the same corridor he had gone down. The sudden widening of the empty hallway was relieving. The closeness was gone.

"Hello, Krum..." I smirked.

He looked blank. No big surprise.

I laughed then. I don't know how long. I don't care to know either, probably too long. I pulled out the flask again. Enough for three doses. Maybe even four. The dance lasted about three more hours. I could do it easily. I reached over quickly and pulled out a piece of hair, wincing slightly.

Hair gel. Nasty stuff when you have to drink it.

He didn't even flinch. I wasn't aware that the spell went that far. Maybe if you hit them directly it was more effective. Or perhaps I just had strength in my spells. That was probably it...Power is a Malfoy symbol. So is arrogance. So is having no friends. I've often asked myself...what does it matter in the end? We all die anyway.

I wasn't a Malfoy anymore though. I was Victor Krum, the one who won his country the worldwide Quidditch tournament. The one Hermione loved.

He probably would have killed me then and there, but he was still in a trance. He would remain that way until I did the counter-curse.

"I'll be back in a few hours." I smirked and swept out the door, surprised I barely had his accent. I wondered how many people would notice. Hopefully not many.

But I guess it didn't matter. I would have killed Krum if I had to.

Just to be near her.

Cedric waved when I re-entered the room. It took me a second to realize he didn't know who I was. If he did, if I had walked back in as Draco, he wouldn't even acknowledge my existence. Actually he probably would have, but grudgedly. He was nice enough and I have had conversations with him before, but he didn't want to look stupid in front of all these people.

Talking to a Malfoy. The lowest thing one can do. Other than befriending one.

Hermione smiled and ran up to me. I was tempted to jerk away suddenly. Nobody knew who I was. Nobody. They all loved me because they didn't know. Because I didn't have that ugly name stamped on me.

I was missing the arrogance, the money, the power, the evil father, the beautiful mother, the self-centered-ness, the depression, the anger, rage, hatred, the good looks...I didn't have any of those things that caused one to hate. For once in my life.

I had the sudden urge to stay that way forever. To actually have someone who cared about me.

"You ok?" she frowned suddenly. "You looked spacey..."

"I'm a bit tired..." I winced, realizing that I didn't have the accent at all, which wasn't supposed to happen. She didn't notice though.

"Where's Draco?' she suddenly whirled around.

"Here...." I started to say, but caught myself in time. "He...he left I guess." I finished lamely.

She frowned again. "You'd think he could at least try to enjoy himself for once..."

I shrugged, inwardly burning up. Why did she care? She had no right to care about ME....yet something inside of me was pulling back on that, as it still is. Something glad that she cared.

"Want to go outside for a bit? It's getting stuffy in here..."

No accent again. But she replied anyway. "Sure!" she said, a bit over-enthusiastically.

I couldn't help it. I've always been interested in what people think of me. I find it amusing that some people worship me and others hate me. Pathetic, really, but it's something to think about. I can walk down the hall, see people, know what they are thinking as I pass, and say something to promote that feeling farther, usually hatred, but sometimes something useless if they like me. I don't say much then, sometimes I glare at them extra nasty, just to see what they tell their stupid friends.

"So...who is this Draco character anyway?" I said, trying to act casual but at the same time terrified she would figure it out. She knows I'm arrogant. And I was being stupid. I was surprised she hadn't guessed already.

"He's some Slytherin boy..." she muttered. "They all say he's evil and he's part of the dark side, but I think he's confused...he always seems so lonely. But he's such a jerk I can't help but hate him. Though I know how he feels. I never had any friends until I came here." She glanced over at me, as if she wanted to be re-assured I was her friend.

"You have me." I said quickly. "And you're friends with Harry and that...er...red-headed boy, eh?" I finished, wondering if Krum knew his name or not.

"O, that's Ron Weasley. He's Harry's best friend. An interesting sort of person..." she laughed.

"How so?" I jumped, wondering if she liked him as well. I knew people like that, and they always disgusted me. I;m against love anyway, but if someone's going to love another, they should really be devoted. Not ready to drool over the next operson who walks by.

"He's just a bit strange, the whole family is. A whole slew of them, their humor getting worse the younger they are." She had to stop she was laughing so hard. "Except Percy of course!"

I stopped and raised one eyebrow, forgetting for a second that Krum was as expressionless with his face as a statue. I guess she noticed too, because she looked at me oddly. Then shrugged it away.

"Why do you ask?" she continued.

I froze. "I...um..."

"You're just wondering what kind of people I hang out with?"

"Yea I guess. It's just this school has such a wide range of people...at my school everyone's kind of the same..." My father knew about Durmstrang luckily, and I was able to be truthful.

"Yea...we have the psychos, humor wise and the psychos evil wise...Then there are the depressed people covering up with evil, the people who are friends with everyone...the whole bit. The nerds."

"What do you consider yourself?"

"A nerd." She sighed. "No one else spends so much time studying..."

"Draco does."

I caught myself too late.

"How do YOU know? You don't even know who he is!" she looked startled.

"O, um, I'm good friends with Karkaroff, who knows his father well. I've never actually met Draco, but his father's a genius, and he claims Draco is as well, which means he must study a lot..."

She relaxed a little, and I realized that though I didn't sound like I had an accent, I really did. Otherwise she would have figured it out and killed me for it.

"But do me a favor..." she continued. "Stay away from him, please. Ypu say one wrong thing to him and he'll have you dead in no time..."

I started again. Is that what she really thought of me? Once again my darkness clouded in again. So she did hate me., Everyone hated me, there was no getting past that. Hated me, despised me, feared me. I am the evil pit of the school, the ugliest student. But she knew I was lonely.

"I seriously doubt that." I snapped, unable to stop myself.

"I don't know. I feel bad for him. his father seems so evil and all...it's almost like he's possessed half the time. I can tell by his eyes that he IS lonely, but he wants to be feared at the same time, so he's just turning into this nasty..." she trailed off, kicking the ground softly. We had walked a ways from the school by now, and the air was silent.

"I think I know what you're saying..." I shrugged offhandedly, fearing her more than ever now. How did she know so much? Was it that obvious? It couldn't be... "Does everyone know that?" I muttered, trying not to look any different, indifferent.

"I don't think so. I think people would at least try to be nice to him if they did know. But why are we talking about him anyway? This is supposed to be fun! I don't want to depress myself by talking about him. He himself is depressed...probably why he left."

He left to be with you, I thought to myself, biting my lip to keep silent. So she did care...someone did. And not just anyone...er....but I couldn't help but be angry. Did she talk about me like this to everyone? How unfair was that? I was suddenly tempted to as her questions, spill out her problems to the school, but I didn't know what Krum already knew and what he didn't know...

"Wait! One more question...are you this talkative about everyone?"

She laughed again. "No, of course not, you know I tell you everything! And he's been on my mind today, exceeding his normal nastisity level."

"Nastsity?" I stared. "That's a word?"

She frowned. "When it comes to Draco, anything's a word..."

"How about bastard? I heard he was a jerk!" I smirked, wondering if she would defend me.

"VICTOR!" she shouted. "Please! Can't we just forget about him for now? Please?" her eyes were wide, pleading. "And don't bother him., I shouldn't have told you so much..."

I backed up, horrified by the concern in her eyes. I had never known anyone cared about me, and it was filling me with a mixture of fury, fear, pain, and...love...the word I have been running from my whole life. I suddenly wished I wasn't Krum. I wished I was Draco. But I was Draco. No, I wished I was...I wished she knew I was Draco, though she wouldn't talk about this to me, but she...I could have at least explained it to her.

Why the hell would I want to explain anything to ANYONE? Something in my mind suddenly cried. I winced. I still wonder...why I did care that she cared then. I'm still confused by it, it still frightens me. I always wanted someone to care, but when I realized someone did it was somehow even worse than before. Now I felt like I had to worry about her, care about her more than I already did.

She suddenly leaned over and hugged me. I jumped back then. Idiot. I am anyway.

"Let's go back inside, someone's bound to realize sooner or later a champion is missing..."

I nodded, still confused that she cared and turned on my heel, heading back. It seemed for so long that everything in my life was out of place but now that I knew someone cared it was even less in place. I glanced over at her then, walking beside me as if nothing had happened, her wide brown eyes like those of an un-suspecting doe, unaware that she was walking beside Draco Malfoy, her worst enemy, and her pitiable enemy. The one she hated and felt bad for at the same time.

I hate her right now. I really do. I hate seeing how one such person can hate someone yet be so compassionate toward them. When I, I can not even feel love for anyone, not even the people I slightly care about, like her. She's so different from me. People call me arrogant and self-centered. I could always understand arrogance, but never self-centeredness in such a way before. But is it really self-centeredness? For I hate even myself. Suicide has come to mind too many times to count, but every time I push it out of my mind somehow, though it gets harder and harder to do so.

I know it is because I am lonely, I still am. I miss people though I am surrounded by them everyday. I guess I really just miss a someone, though I don't know who. Perhaps it is Hermione, perhaps it is really just the optimist part of me, the part of me that cares. If that part ever existed in the first place. Even my first words were words of hatred toward my father. I know. I planned it. I waited five long years before daring to open my mouth in his presence, in anyone's, just to tell him how much I hated him. I wanted it to sound perfect, and it did. I learned right then and there the power of hatred, the power of despising someone. And I loved that power. For it gave me something over people.

So I thought.

So I thought.

I know now that it was stupid of me to think so. Everything I've ever done was stupid. If only she knew I wasn't Krum.

The rest of the night doesn't matter. I barely noticed her, or anyone, the rest of the night. My mind was on what she had said, and the tiny spark in my mind that someone cared.

The night is over now. I'm sitting on my bed writing this with a fury. I have to tell someone.

For I can't tell her. And I have no one else.

If only...I could tell her....tell her everything....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I slowly closed the book, hands trembling, tears brimming. I had always known something was different about Krum that night. And I had wondered why he was asking so many questions about Draco. I thought it was because he somehow knew of Draco's Quidditch obsession, but I never suspected that.

Never.

I always thought he hated me.

It's Christmas right now. Dinner is in a few minutes. I, too, am sitting on my bed in my dorm. Reading his diary. I had found it in the hallway after Draco had gotten into a fight with someone. He had shoved some Ravenclaw seventh year down the stairs for some stupid reason and the boy, Braeden, had grabbed him and both of them fell. Braeden's in the hospital wing, Draco's being sulky somewhere. I guess he dropped it though.

The shock hit me hard. I didn't even know how to feel. Something told me to be enraged at him, to hate him, pursue him, injure him. Emotionally. But another part of me pulled back, inwardly crying for him. I had always known he was lonely. But I had never known he had gone as far as contemplating suicide before. I had never known he cared about me, and desperately hoped I did for him, yet feared me at the same time.

I had never known...him...anything about him. Only the obvious things. Only the arrogance, the money, the perfect blood-line, the perfect looks, the grades, the cruelty. I had never known he was hiding what he was really feeling. Hiding his vulnerable spots...

"Hermione! Come on! Supper!" Harry called from the room.

I shoved the book in my pocket quickly. "Hold on!" I jumped off my bed and swept from the room, feeling for the book another time.

The Great hall was a lot more crowded than usual. I quickly scanned the room, searching for Draco. I didn't see him. Maybe he was in the hospital wing after all. Knowing him, he would have bolted before a teacher came anyway, and would probably be obsessing over any bloody cut he had. Making it worse...

I guess I jumped then, because Ron looked startled.

"O...um...I forgot something in my room! Hold on, be back in a minute." I fled from the room. They shrugged and walked off.

Silence followed for a second before I turned and headed to the library. I felt bad lying to them, but I was too disturbed to go anywhere else. That had been Draco the other night. He had tricked me. He had done illegal actions...just to be near me.

And I hadn't once been hurt.

That was what shocked me the most. I had known he was lonely, but I had always thought of him as evil as well. I had always been afraid to be near him alone, for fear he pulled out a dagger or merely aimed his wand at me or something. But he didn't. He had been several hundred yards from anyone with me and hadn't even touched me.

Hadn't even let me know it was him.

Could he really be that shy? That caring? Or was it all a joke? Had he left the diary lying around on purpose, made it all up, just to start trouble?

I quickly headed over to one of the large armchairs near the windows of the library, but stopped just as suddenly.

Draco was leaning against a chair, cradling a book at least a thousand pages long, too absorbed to even notice me. He suddenly scowled and dropped it, then glared at me for a few seconds. His eyes were immensely cold. Silvery, opaque, as they always grew when he became enraged.

I forced myself to ignore the dagger strapped to his belt, the one that the teachers had taken away from him at least thirty times, the one he always got back somehow. There was also his wand, shoved into the same sheath, unusually dark for a wand. And I walked up to him, pulling the book from my pocket and shoving it against his chest.

He didn't even move for a few seconds, or even blink. He just stared at the small book in his hands, looking a bit terrified and a bit bored. Then he finally looked up at me. "So I did just drop it...I thought someone stole it...though the fact that you read it didn't help any." I couldn't believe the calm look on his face, almost as if nothing had happened at all, as if he had done nothing wrong.

"Why?" I shuddered. It hit me then how maniacal his eyes were.

"What do you mean why?" he spat suddenly. "Have you not read it? The reason is in here! Everything is in here! Then why do you ask 'why'?" He opened the book and slammed it again in my face, causing me to stumble backward.

"You broke about eight laws then, and your father having an illegal animal doesn't help any." I scowled at him, realizing he had the advantage. All he had to do was hide the book and no one could believe me, even if they wanted to. It was so bizarre, all of it.

"I don't care. It's not like Azkaban hasn't threatened before. They're too scared to come near our house. Unless I or my father just gave ourselves up...we don't have to worry about breaking laws. You know who's on MY side..." he smirked, caressing the book for a few seconds.

"But...why did you go through all of that trouble? And not even tell me?" I winced. He knew already, he knew I wasn't upset, just more confused, and he was playing with my mind.

"It was no trouble."

I glared at him. "But why didn't you just tell me?"

"What would you have done if I had told you? Screamed? I thought so. Gotten Dumbledore? Forced me to wait out the time while the potion died down?" he slowly started pacing back and forth, never taking those eyes off of mine.

"You could have asked me before..." he was smart. He knew everything nook and cranny of me. He must have been studying me all these years. How could he have known what I would have done?

"I'm a Slytherin. A rich, arrogant, self-centered, evil nasty bastard with a murderous father to hide behind and a supermodel mother. I'm the best looking guy in the school, another reason to hate me, and I have given you no reason ever before to think that I didn't hate you."

I froze, confusion leaking in again. "If you were so arrogant and self-centered, you wouldn't be saying that about yourself. And you wouldn't talk about killing yourself." Something wasn't right. "Perhaps you made up that reputation so everyone would leave you alone, leave you to slit your wrists in peace." I glared at him, unable to hide the triumphant grin I could already feel.

"Wrong." He laughed quietly, maniacal. "I did not create that reputation. Others did. You read this, the whole thing, I know you did. Did you not see that I am lonely? Or did you just choose to overlook it? It doesn't fit me, doesn't fit with the rest of me, does it? I do not want that reputation. I don't." His eyes flitted around suddenly, as if he heard something.

"Then shed it." I frowned, wondering why he never saw the obvious.

"I can't." He suddenly ducked his head, hiding his eyes in the shadows. Too late though. I could see how tightly he had closed them, trying to stop the tears. "I have it, I need it, I need to hide. I can't let people know what I am, who I am, especially not my father. He wouldn't understand, ever. Nor would Voldemort."

Like it was nothing, obvious he was slightly evil. He just said the name like it meant nothing to anyone. I froze, uncertain of what his words meant.

He glared at me again. "What color are my eyes?"

I was taken aback by such an odd question. Yet it sounded so familiar... "Silver."

"What else is silver?"

"Metal?"

"You stupid bitch. No."

"Bitch yourself..." I muttered. "A mirror."

"What is a mirror made of?"

"Glass."

"What is glass?"

"Sand and water."

"Hurrion. Try again. An adjective."

"Sharp?"

He paled slightly. "Yes, sharp, cruel. I am cruel. I hate. But what makes it sharp? Why does it break?"

"Fragile?"

"It breaks easily. As do I. I am fragile. They eyes are the windows to the soul, if someone could understand they would know in a second, but no one does. The pain...inside..."

"But no one can see through a mirror." I said quickly, glad I had found a knothole in his metaphor.

"I know." He scowled. "I want it that way. It's too late, everything's gone, it's all inside now, hidden. As I wanted it to be. Even now, it's too late. Nobody could ever love me, care about me."

"Maybe because you won't let anyone...like how you wouldn't tell me at the dance who you were...."

"I told myself someday I would tell you everything. I didn't expect it to be now. I didn't expect it to be any day that you decide, I wanted to decide. I wanted it to be right before I never saw you again, on the last day. On a deathday. Anything. I didn't want to have to look at you and know that you knew...I didn't want anyone else knowing..." He fingered his dagger and slid his finger across his narrow wrist, pale as death already.

Without thinking I reached over and grabbed his arm. He tried to jerk away, startled. And I knew it was because he had never felt a human in that way before, he had only hurt before. I knew it wasn't because I was 'some mudblood'. "I care..." I said softly. "I wouldn't tell anyone. I just want to know."

"So doesn't everyone." He relaxed slightly. At least he wasn't touching the knife anymore. I could already picture it sliding down his arm.

"You could have told me. I would have understood. I know what loneliness is."

"Bitch! You have friends! Don't lie to me just to make me feel better or worse, whatever your corrupted mind is planning." He shouted, recoiling again, closing himself off again.

I let go of his arm, startled at the fact that he already insulted me three times in barely ten minutes when I had done nothing to him. Except ruin and reveal him. I glanced over at him. He was standing erect again, grinding his teeth in rage and narrowing his eyes to icy slits. So it was true. You couldn't tell at all from his face how lonely he was when he was angry, perhaps why he stayed angry so often. The evil was practically flowing off of him, toward me, outward toward any living thing. It was his protection, his armor, his fortress.

And yet...he was so kind beneath it all... I remembered how I used to read those books so long ago. Of knights and princesses. Knights in shining armor.

He was my knight in obsidian armor.

Once again without thinking I leaned over and hugged him, just barely, as a child hugs a parent, and whispered into his ear. "Not even friends can destroy loneliness sometimes..."

I didn't know if it would make him feel worse or better. I just wanted him to know that he wasn't alone. He may still be alone in his mind, but out here he wasn't, and he never had been.

He didn't pull away, he just looked at me for a second and frowned. But it faded. He couldn't hide from me anymore or anyone. Maybe he could, and he probably would, but at least for a few hours in his life he was free from the burden.

He suddenly glanced around the room, pulling away ever so slightly, as if to see if anyone was there, if anyone had heard him. He was terrified, terrified that his castle has crumbled, his fortress.

It takes a lot more to hurt a knight though, a lot more to break through obsidian armor. It takes love, something he had never had. At least not from those who would dare show it.

He suddenly and quickly slid over toward the window and glanced out at the night. Raining and cold, the moon faintly visible. I knew he loved it, loved it all, he loved the solitude, yet feared it, for it hurt him. He was torn between two worlds, and he forever would be. For loving was a price, and death could take it away so easily. And I knew from his power that death was his friend, and he feared it becoming his enemy. He looked over at me sadly. I couldn't stand it. I swept over to him and hugged him again. He was cold, cold and thin, his bones hard and angry. He wasn't made to be loved, and he knew it. He had his own destiny to fulfill, even if it meant killing himself with sadness, loneliness, and pain. Or love.

Then to my shock he grabbed up my hand and kissed it gently before gently shoving me back where I had come from.

I went. I had to. I had no choice. But I looked back once and shuddered to see the knife unsheathed and glinting in the dim night air.

My knight in obsidian armor, torn between death and love. I am still scared for him, for I know which one is easier. But I also know that he is strong, and he will now bow to lesser tasks.