CHAPTER 3
First week of December, Monday
“What? Why didn’t you tell me anything earlier?”
Hermione looked bewildered. “Why? Usually you can’t wait for me to shut up about the new exciting spells I’ve just learned.”
“Yes, but this is important! Hermione, you found a way to reanimate my diary!”
“Oh, Ginny!” Hermione’s face fell for a moment but the next second it was filled with compassion. “But there’s almost no chance that your friend even kept his diary.”
Momentarily, Ginny felt deflated.
“I know,” she said then. “But I can’t simply not try!”
Hermione only nodded, but Ginny could see that she was concerned.
“When can you teach me?”
The older girl seemed to be thinking for a moment. “Mm… Thursday? But you don’t have to learn the spell. Unless you plan on using it a lot I can just cast it for you.”
“And be right there when I collapse from devastation?” Ginny smiled. “Relax, Hermione, I know that the chances of Git having the diary are slim to none.”
Hermione laughed in relief. “Git? You wrote to a guy who calls himself Git?”
“Noo! It’s just a…” Ginny sighed and smiled. “You’ve got a point, but it was all in good fun. I called him Git and he called me Brat.”
“You sure you want to be friends with someone who calls you a brat?”
The girls laughed.
First week of December, Thursday
It hadn't worked. Not that he’d thought that it would in the first place, Brat was sure to have thrown her diary away long ago, but he still felt cheated. Somewhat listlessly, Draco sat on his bed, curtains tightly closed, and stared at the reanimated diary. Although it seemed to be active itself, it lacked the output receiver.
Just then, as he was ready to dump the thing back onto the bottom of his trunk, there was a faint momentary glow around the book. Draco’s eyelids fluttered in several panicked blinks. He stared at the book for three long seconds, but nothing more happened.
“Shite!”
He grabbed the diary and opened it in the middle. It seemed empty, but it would, wouldn’t it; all the old communication was lost for good. Quickly, Draco leafed back to the fist page and there it was – ink in meaningful scribbles. The text was just appearing.
-Hello, my friend! I know you are most likely not even there, so I feel quite silly writing into the magick space, bu… Well, just be there, alright?
X-Brat!
Draco finally managed to make his shaking fingers grab a quill.
X- Is that really you, Brat? he wrote.
- Yes, it’s me! Git! I can't believe it! You are really here? How? You used the spell too, didn't you!
X-Eons ago! What took you so long?
-I just learned the spell! How long have you been waiting?
X-Almost a week. Merlin, it feels longer!
In fact, it had been longer, since Draco applied the spell the same day he learned it, but he wasn't going to admit it.
-I can imagine. You really wanted to write me again? After all this time?
X-And just like that you made things awkward.
-Oh. Sorry. I didn't mean to.
X-Chill, Brat. I’m having you on.
-LOL. I know! :D Idiot!
X-That's why you love me.
-Dream on! You know, my grin is a mile wide right now! I'm sorry I bailed on you that time – in the third year - but I just forgot. I mean, not that it was so unimportant-
X-I know. You don't have to explain. Your schoolmate was killed that night. I heard about it later. Although a part of me wondered if you’d just chickened out after all. But mostly I knew.
-No chickening, it's just that we were all so shocked and we just... I don't think I even slept that night.
X-I understand. It shocked people even in Durmstrang. How had he put it exactly? “Kill the spare”?
-How do you-? Oh, the Quibbler!
X-Yes, I suppose everybody knows about that by now. Anyway, it's not something you imagine you'd hear the Dark Lord say when murdering a pureblood, so… Yeah.
-I don't think he makes excuses when he kills. And why do you call him the Dark Lord?
That gave Draco a pause. What did she mean, why? Everybody called him... But, of course, they didn't. Only most of the Slytherins did and never outside of their own circle. Draco had grown too comfortable with the girl.
X-Force of habit.
There was a pause again and Draco started to think up ways to diminish the damage when Brat wrote again.
-You're in with them, aren't you?
X-No, I’m not. Draco thought of how much he could safely reveal. But my family is. Was, he wrote in the end.
-Your father?
X-Yes. He's dead. And don't tell me you're sorry. You wouldn't be if you knew him.
-Alright. Am I supposed to tactfully change the topic now?
X-Very subtle, Brat. Really sensitive of you.
- :) That's why you love me.
X-You bet.
There was no answer and Draco panicked – what if she had thought he really meant it?
X-Brat?
-Sorry, gtg. Brb.
He must have overdone it and now she probably thought that he was in love with her. Dammit.
X-Listen, about the... you know the L-word comment? I'm sorry if my joke made you uncomfortable. I didn’t mean it like that, all right?
-Back. Wait, what? Noo! That's not why I left.H someone wanted my... something I’m not talking about with you.
X-You're fishing for excuses, aren't you? ;)
-So not true! My friend just needed something. Really. Female stuff. BTW, how about telling each other our names now? We were supposed to do that two years ago!
Blindsided. 'Totally wrecked' was the phrase to describe Draco's feelings at that moment. For a long, excruciating second all he could do was to imagine how quickly she’d close the diary and how far she’d throw it after she read who he really was. Draco could recall all the dirty looks he was receiving on daily basis from most of the school, especially Gryffindor, in graphic detail. No, Brat couldn't know about his identity just yet.
X-Are you sure? You used to have a reason for wanting to remain anonymous, has that changed?
-Yes! It has. :) So, who goes first?
X-Er... Hold your broom a moment there.
He had no idea how to continue without making her feel bad.
-Why? Have you reconsidered?
X-No. No, I haven't. It’s just that… Well, we have the diaries again, so we don’t need to owl any more, do we?
-Yes, but-
X-And you were the one who actually proposed the secrecy. It’s not like we really need to know the names, so there’s no rush.
Draco knew he was acting like a total arse, but the quill was moving faster than his thoughts and now that it was all out there, it was a bit difficult to take it back. The silence that stretched between them after that was ominous.
-You know what the reason I proposed the secrecy in the first place was, right?
X-Because of the possessed diary?
-Because I didn’t trust you. And even in the spring, when we agreed to finally reveal our names, I still wasn’t ready to trust you completely. But you always sounded like you trusted me. What changed?
For a moment Draco wasn’t sure what to write. The diary wouldn’t let him lie outright, but there were ways… In the end, he couldn’t think of any reason to not to tell her the truth.
X-It’s difficult to explain. But first of all - I’m not saying that I don’t trust you. I just need more time. It has nothing to do with you; it’s me. I'm simply not ready to reveal my identity just yet.
-Why not?
X-I don’t know how to explain it, except to say that I can’t explain yet. I’m sorry. Everything in my life has changed, Brat. It turned out that my father had a lot more influence on my life than I had ever known, and now that he’s dead, everything’s different – where I live, my future… I have a chance at choosing my future now, Brat! I never thought that it would be a possibility until this summer. Anyway, just please, trust me, alright?
- You don't trust me.
X-No, I told you-
-Don't. I know it's true. And don’t apologise. I understand, alright? We haven't talked a while, so of course you wouldn't-
X-No, Brat! Listen and don't interrupt. It's not that! I don't think that you’d do something terrible if you knew my name. I can't even imagine how you could. But… But I do think that you wouldn't want to be my friend if you knew who I was. So I want to have a chance to show you that I'm a decent person first.
-What? Don't be ridiculous! Unless you're He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, or... or, I don't know Professor Snape or Draco Malfoy, or… someone equally dreadful, you have nothing to worry about! Just tell me that you are not a dark wizard and wish me no harm and I'll believe you.
…
Git? Did you go away?
X-No, I’m here. Just thinking.
-I meant what I said. It doesn’t matter who you are. I understand about families, you can’t choose your father. So he was a Death Eater, so what? You aren’t one, are you? And you’re not planning on becoming one, right?
X-No. I’m not a Death Eater and I’ll do my best not to become one. (Remember that the diary can’t lie?) And I'm not the Dark Lord either, in case you were wondering, but I'm not sure what to tell you about the other names you've listed.
-Oh! Well, Professor Snape is this really nasty Potions teacher we have and he's ugly as sin. Greasy and... Generally, an epitome of eww. And you should know Malfoy, right? At least by reputation. He went to your school, after all.
X-Yes, can't really deny that.
-Well, you know what he’s like then.
X-No. No, I don't. Explain it to me. How did a poor transfer student make it to your eww list next to the ugly teacher and Snake Face?
-Snake Face? LOL. You call him that?
X-Never mind what I call him. Why do you hate Malfoy so much?
-You’re joking, right? You said you knew him?
X-Yes, and I know quite a few people in Durmstrang who are a lot nastier.
-I can only imagine. (Insert shivers of horror.) Well, what do I hate about Draco Death Eater Malfoy? First of all, Death, secondly Eater, thirdly, he's simply repulsive! The way he talks, the things he talks about. Then, the way he walks in the hall, not looking at anybody as if we were all beneath him, not worthy of his notice, and the way he eats, of all things!
X-The way he eats?! What's wrong with the way he eats?
-As if the broomstick in his arse reaches his skull. Does the guy ever relax? … Git? You there?
X-Yes.
-Something happening there? You busy?
X-Yes. I'm sorry, I have to go. Forgot I have a tutoring session.
-You tutor? Or...?
X-Later, okay?
-Yes, sorry. Bye.
Draco sat on his bed for quite a while before venturing out from behind the curtains. Needless to say, he never made it to dinner, lest he offended anyone with his table manners. Draco scowled. And who the hell did the chit think she was? No doubt she had atrocious manners herself, and how the hell would she walk in the halls if everyone either stared at her or ignored her? Bestow her benign smile on them?
Now Draco did throw the diary to the bottom of his trunk.
“And don’t think you’re coming out any time soon either!” he muttered darkly toward the only representation of his ire’s subject he had.
After the first anger had abated, Draco suddenly felt utterly humiliated. He was a failure, not only to his father, but in his own eyes, too. He hadn’t made it in Durmstrang and now he was a pariah at Hogwarts. He didn’t fit in anywhere – there he had been too soft, here he was too hard.
Nothing Brat told him had been that surprising, so why was he so upset? He’d known before how most of Hogwarts viewed him. Except that he’d imagined that he’d be more feared than ridiculed. It was entirely foolish to be upset, and it didn't change any of his plans, so-
Wait! What did Brat say about the reanimation spell? She said she'd just learned it. She learned it and it was Thursday and Gryffs had the lesson right before Slytherins on Wednesday. Was it possible that they were a week behind with program? Of course it was, but what really bothered Draco was the obvious conclusion that Brat must be in his year.
He opened his trunk. After a minute of feverish digging he found his list. Draco remembered what was on it, he just wanted to make sure. And yes, there it was, his personal nightmare:
Year 6:
Lavender Brown – PB, very pretty, but into divination? - check for brains
Hermione Granger – MB
Parvati Patil – HB, exotic, divination?
He'd seen enough of all the three girls to know that it couldn't be Brown or Patil. The chits were entirely too brain-dead. Draco crushed the list and threw it back into the trunk.
He'd eliminated Granger on her blood status alone, but now it suddenly seemed overly optimistic. There were only two possibilities – either he'd misread something Brat wrote him two years ago and she was indeed a Mudblood, or he was heavily underestimating Patil's intelligence. –But it must be the latter. It must be.
Or maybe it's one of the fifth years who got the spell from an upper student or a seventh year who's extremely slow and is retaking the subject.
And all this speculation was utterly useless. Abso-effin-lutely useless.
Second week of December, Friday
Draco didn't buy that crap about people being beautiful when angry. Even if you loved them very much anger only made people ugly. In the case of Ginny Weasley, however, he didn't mind her being angry that much; even red in the face, she was still somewhat fetching. What he did mind though, was her being angry with him especially when she was being unfair.
“You're such a nasty pig, Malfoy! He's a third year, Malfoy. A third year! What the hell did he even do to you, huh?”
Draco smirked. “I just happen to get off on hurting ickle little children, Weasley. Didn’t you know?” He knew that trying to explain things was showing weakness and he had no intention of giving an inch. “Did you see their pretty purple faces as they choked? All six and a half seconds of it?”
For a moment, the girl just gaped at him as if she had no idea what to say, but then she brandished her wand so quickly that it was only a fragment of a second that saved Draco from being hexed. Thankfully, the redhead didn't want to duel. Abruptly, she turned around and stormed off.
What possessed Draco to do what he did then remained a mystery to him even later, but without any conscious thought, he grabbed the girl's wrist and said quietly to her back, “Just one more thing, Weasley. Been playing around with any diaries lately?”
Very slowly, she turned back to him and her chestnut-coloured eyes were glazed with shock.
“You...” was all she choked out before the shock cleared only to be replaced with a livid sheen. Her tiny fist landed in the middle of his face out of nowhere.
“Bingo!” was all Draco had time to think before his brain registered that his head must have exploded.
“You okay?” he heard Pansy ask, as she handed him her handkerchief.
Don’t be an idiot, Draco thought, but he might have said it out loud, because she didn’t ask anything else.
The bubbling pain, however, took a background noise in his head, which was overexcited from finding his Brat. Chances that the Weasley girl wasn’t her were extremely low.
First week of school, January
“Mr Malfoy?”
“Pardon?”
“Pay attention, Mr Malfoy. What am I, a meaningless apparition? I asked you to name runes that have healing properties brought forth only by moonlight during solstice.”
With difficulty, Draco recalled the chapter and recited the answer.
The first weekend after realising who Brat was had been a century-long agony. Brat (Ginny!) wrote him a short note that night after smashing his nose but unsurprisingly it failed to lift his spirits.
Hey Git! Can you write tonight? I really need to unwind. I had a fight with a local non-entity and I want to forget all about it. You always make me laugh. Come? Please?
Needless to say, he answered the note with his own failing to write anything back. Instead, Draco had immediately stashed the diary under his mattress and for a whole seventeen seconds he had managed to pretend that it didn’t burn his back through a foot of bedding.
After that, however, it had been so difficult not to reach for his diary that through the evening Draco frequently had to go downstairs into the Common Room to get away. And when all the hustle and bustle there annoyed the crap out of him, he had even resorted to studying in the library. Or pretended to.
Thankfully, the remainder of autumn term was filled with manoeuvring between Montague, Pucey, and Parkinson’s sieges, executing pre-planned defence strategies and working out impromptu counter-attacks. In short – Draco Malfoy was having the time of his life. Slowly, he got used to the low ache of awareness of his untouched book under the mattress. It was only in the evenings, when everyone retired to their beds, that his hand really started itching for it.
In the end, he hadn't managed to throw it out as he vowed to do every evening, but neither had he taken it out to write in it either. Then very soon it was Christmas, and to stop torturing himself, he decided to leave the book at school. Draco regretted it as soon as he saw the train on the platform, but by then it was already too late. Fine. It was just how he’d wanted it. And perhaps she'd grow fonder of him while missing him.
Right.
The first thing Draco did when he got back was grab the book and sit on his bed recalling each and every look filled with hatred Ginny Weasley had ever directed at him. How could anyone hate him just because of who his father was was beyond him, but what really bothered him was that it went in direct conflict with what he knew about Brat.
So why did he even want her to like him if she was so intolerably ignorant? She was self-righteous and snotty and, as it now turned out, was a hypocrite. Draco realised, of course, that everybody was bound to be different in their writings than in real life, but in her case it was more than disappointing.
However, now that the lessons had started, Draco fully expected it to be easier, but for some unfathomable reason the masochistic part of his brain had decided it would be a wonderful idea to pack the blasted diary into his book bag this morning. He'd managed to resist it until the third lesson, but Merlin help him, Binns was boooring!
Brat? I'm sorry, I've been MIA all this time. I blame my moronic brain. I don't even know how exactly it happened, but when packing for the trip home, I managed to leave my diary at school.
Telling half-truths came easily to Draco and the little twinge of guilt he felt was promptly squashed. Technically, he'd not lied and he couldn't very well tell her that he'd been contemplating burning the diary because he'd found out who she was. Draco wasn’t even sure why he was contacting her again; he certainly wasn’t ready to introduce himself just to be scowled or laughed at.
You've got time this evening? he continued nonetheless, I'll be around at ten. If you can't come, drop me a line? Unless you're so livid with me that you'd rather stand me up. Because I'd totally understand. I'm willing to grovel.
Humbly at your mercy,
Git
However, this time his acting up to his self-deprecating persona backfired. Draco had been idiot enough to be surprised when there was no message or the girl herself even after eleven. He'd fully expected her to let him wait for half an hour and then allow herself to be coaxed into granting him forgiveness after a thorough begging. But neither that night nor the next brought any response. Then days went by and still nothing. Perhaps he’d been deluding himself after all – there really was no more to the girl than what he saw in the halls – all reckless arrogance and ignorance.
But, of course, the Weasley girl was proud; he’d seen that in Brat too. Not at all like most of the girls he knew and certainly unlike any of the girls his parents would have over for tea. She probably didn't know any better than to be so vindictively rude. But then again the answer might’ve been neglected simply because she'd finally thrown the diary out during the holidays. Or maybe...
Whatever the reason might be, by the time Draco went down for breakfast four days later, he was livid. Of course she hadn't thrown the diary out! Girls just didn't do things like that! Any normal girl would be keeping it at hand and peeking into it every half an hour to make sure she knew when to start her silent treatment. When a girl thought she had a chance with a guy she pretended not to care about you, but in truth she'd put a tracking spell on you if she could get away with it.
“Out of the way,” he growled at a random firstie, shouldered through a throng of Hufflepuffs, and scowled at anything that got between him and the Great Hall.
Girls were clingy by nature; he knew that for a fact. Except it was a Weasley girl he was talking about and there was nothing remotely clingy about her. Perhaps she'd really never thought about him like that and... And then Draco remembered one of the Hogwarts rumour mill items that was so stale it was regarded as a fact. That fact said that Ginny Weasley had been in love with Harry Potter all her life and was even now just waiting for him to acknowledge her as his true love.
Which was ridiculous, of course; he'd never seen anything that would suggest her being in love with the four-eye. But did it mean that she would be prone to get swept away by some random pen-pal? Unlikely.
A week later he didn’t think it mattered one way or another. She never wrote back.
Second week of March, Tuesday
“You know I should give you two a prize, what do you think?” Draco drawled.
He was lounging in an armchair facing the door, so he saw the heroes of the hour the moment they entered the Common Room.
“A prize?” Crabbe’s little eyes lit up with suspicious interest.
“What prize?” Goyle echoed his friend’s interest.
“A first prize,” Draco continued, “for the lamest joke ever.” Several Slytherins in the room snickered. “Littering the hall with paper penises? Really? What are you, twelve?”
The fat duo scowled, huffed and stomped up the stairs to their dorm.
“You do better then,” one of them grumbled.
“Anything I’ve ever done is better than anything those two will ever do,” Montague remarked.
“Really? I thought them hiding Weasley’s schoolbag was pretty funny,” Pansy offered.
“They hid Weasel’s bag?” Draco raised his eyebrow lazily. “Must have been ages ago if I haven’t heard about it?”
“Not really.” Pansy shrugged. “At the beginning of this term, I think. And it wasn’t the Weasel. It was the little Weasley, Potter’s shadow. They hid her schoolbag in one of the empty cupboards in the second floor corridor. Filch found it by mistake almost two weeks later.”
“Really?” Draco said, but he never heard an answer; his mind was too busy calculating.
A wild hope surged through him and it was all he could do to not jump up and storm into his dorm room right away. Thankfully it was only ten minutes later that he managed to slip away unnoticed.
His hands shaking, Draco dug out his diary once more and opened it before he managed to talk himself down from the feverish hope. And there it was – an entry only part of him believed would be there.
Git! Hey, sorry for disappearing on you, but I guess it’s only fair since you disappeared on me during the hols too. And of course, I’m not angry with you for leaving your diary at school! And before you ask, I wouldn’t have been even if I hadn’t lost mine.
Anyway, I’m really, really sorry, but it wasn’t my fault! You won’t believe what happened! Or actually I’m hoping you will! In short, a local moronic duo pinched my schoolbag two weeks ago and the diary was in it! I’ve only got it back just now and you have no idea how happy I am to see that you’ve not ditched our friendship! Or at least you hadn’t before…
I just hope you’re still around. I’ll be here tonight at ten and well, other nights too if you’re no longer checking back.
Hope you’ll write back!
Brat
It’s been four days and I’ve yet to have an answer. Well, I’ll be checking every now and then anyway, alright? Hope to hear from you soon,
B
Okay, here’s what I’ve decided. I’ll be checking here every Saturday at 10pm, just so you know. And if I you’ve burned your diary and I’m just making a total fool out of myself, I’m gonna hunt you down and feed you my diary page by page. You’ve been warned. Git.
B
Draco sat on his bed staring at the three last entries, waves of elation and shame taking their turns. Of course she hadn’t thrown the diary out! Of course, she hadn’t given up! And, of course, she hadn’t been playing games with him! That was not her way. This, he reread the last entries, was how he’d expected Ginny Weasley to act! But the last entry had been written weeks before; did she still check the diary every Saturday? Only one way to find out.
TBC
First week of December, Monday
“What? Why didn’t you tell me anything earlier?”
Hermione looked bewildered. “Why? Usually you can’t wait for me to shut up about the new exciting spells I’ve just learned.”
“Yes, but this is important! Hermione, you found a way to reanimate my diary!”
“Oh, Ginny!” Hermione’s face fell for a moment but the next second it was filled with compassion. “But there’s almost no chance that your friend even kept his diary.”
Momentarily, Ginny felt deflated.
“I know,” she said then. “But I can’t simply not try!”
Hermione only nodded, but Ginny could see that she was concerned.
“When can you teach me?”
The older girl seemed to be thinking for a moment. “Mm… Thursday? But you don’t have to learn the spell. Unless you plan on using it a lot I can just cast it for you.”
“And be right there when I collapse from devastation?” Ginny smiled. “Relax, Hermione, I know that the chances of Git having the diary are slim to none.”
Hermione laughed in relief. “Git? You wrote to a guy who calls himself Git?”
“Noo! It’s just a…” Ginny sighed and smiled. “You’ve got a point, but it was all in good fun. I called him Git and he called me Brat.”
“You sure you want to be friends with someone who calls you a brat?”
The girls laughed.
First week of December, Thursday
It hadn't worked. Not that he’d thought that it would in the first place, Brat was sure to have thrown her diary away long ago, but he still felt cheated. Somewhat listlessly, Draco sat on his bed, curtains tightly closed, and stared at the reanimated diary. Although it seemed to be active itself, it lacked the output receiver.
Just then, as he was ready to dump the thing back onto the bottom of his trunk, there was a faint momentary glow around the book. Draco’s eyelids fluttered in several panicked blinks. He stared at the book for three long seconds, but nothing more happened.
“Shite!”
He grabbed the diary and opened it in the middle. It seemed empty, but it would, wouldn’t it; all the old communication was lost for good. Quickly, Draco leafed back to the fist page and there it was – ink in meaningful scribbles. The text was just appearing.
-Hello, my friend! I know you are most likely not even there, so I feel quite silly writing into the magick space, bu… Well, just be there, alright?
X-Brat!
Draco finally managed to make his shaking fingers grab a quill.
X- Is that really you, Brat? he wrote.
- Yes, it’s me! Git! I can't believe it! You are really here? How? You used the spell too, didn't you!
X-Eons ago! What took you so long?
-I just learned the spell! How long have you been waiting?
X-Almost a week. Merlin, it feels longer!
In fact, it had been longer, since Draco applied the spell the same day he learned it, but he wasn't going to admit it.
-I can imagine. You really wanted to write me again? After all this time?
X-And just like that you made things awkward.
-Oh. Sorry. I didn't mean to.
X-Chill, Brat. I’m having you on.
-LOL. I know! :D Idiot!
X-That's why you love me.
-Dream on! You know, my grin is a mile wide right now! I'm sorry I bailed on you that time – in the third year - but I just forgot. I mean, not that it was so unimportant-
X-I know. You don't have to explain. Your schoolmate was killed that night. I heard about it later. Although a part of me wondered if you’d just chickened out after all. But mostly I knew.
-No chickening, it's just that we were all so shocked and we just... I don't think I even slept that night.
X-I understand. It shocked people even in Durmstrang. How had he put it exactly? “Kill the spare”?
-How do you-? Oh, the Quibbler!
X-Yes, I suppose everybody knows about that by now. Anyway, it's not something you imagine you'd hear the Dark Lord say when murdering a pureblood, so… Yeah.
-I don't think he makes excuses when he kills. And why do you call him the Dark Lord?
That gave Draco a pause. What did she mean, why? Everybody called him... But, of course, they didn't. Only most of the Slytherins did and never outside of their own circle. Draco had grown too comfortable with the girl.
X-Force of habit.
There was a pause again and Draco started to think up ways to diminish the damage when Brat wrote again.
-You're in with them, aren't you?
X-No, I’m not. Draco thought of how much he could safely reveal. But my family is. Was, he wrote in the end.
-Your father?
X-Yes. He's dead. And don't tell me you're sorry. You wouldn't be if you knew him.
-Alright. Am I supposed to tactfully change the topic now?
X-Very subtle, Brat. Really sensitive of you.
- :) That's why you love me.
X-You bet.
There was no answer and Draco panicked – what if she had thought he really meant it?
X-Brat?
-Sorry, gtg. Brb.
He must have overdone it and now she probably thought that he was in love with her. Dammit.
X-Listen, about the... you know the L-word comment? I'm sorry if my joke made you uncomfortable. I didn’t mean it like that, all right?
-Back. Wait, what? Noo! That's not why I left.
X-You're fishing for excuses, aren't you? ;)
-So not true! My friend just needed something. Really. Female stuff. BTW, how about telling each other our names now? We were supposed to do that two years ago!
Blindsided. 'Totally wrecked' was the phrase to describe Draco's feelings at that moment. For a long, excruciating second all he could do was to imagine how quickly she’d close the diary and how far she’d throw it after she read who he really was. Draco could recall all the dirty looks he was receiving on daily basis from most of the school, especially Gryffindor, in graphic detail. No, Brat couldn't know about his identity just yet.
X-Are you sure? You used to have a reason for wanting to remain anonymous, has that changed?
-Yes! It has. :) So, who goes first?
X-Er... Hold your broom a moment there.
He had no idea how to continue without making her feel bad.
-Why? Have you reconsidered?
X-No. No, I haven't. It’s just that… Well, we have the diaries again, so we don’t need to owl any more, do we?
-Yes, but-
X-And you were the one who actually proposed the secrecy. It’s not like we really need to know the names, so there’s no rush.
Draco knew he was acting like a total arse, but the quill was moving faster than his thoughts and now that it was all out there, it was a bit difficult to take it back. The silence that stretched between them after that was ominous.
-You know what the reason I proposed the secrecy in the first place was, right?
X-Because of the possessed diary?
-Because I didn’t trust you. And even in the spring, when we agreed to finally reveal our names, I still wasn’t ready to trust you completely. But you always sounded like you trusted me. What changed?
For a moment Draco wasn’t sure what to write. The diary wouldn’t let him lie outright, but there were ways… In the end, he couldn’t think of any reason to not to tell her the truth.
X-It’s difficult to explain. But first of all - I’m not saying that I don’t trust you. I just need more time. It has nothing to do with you; it’s me. I'm simply not ready to reveal my identity just yet.
-Why not?
X-I don’t know how to explain it, except to say that I can’t explain yet. I’m sorry. Everything in my life has changed, Brat. It turned out that my father had a lot more influence on my life than I had ever known, and now that he’s dead, everything’s different – where I live, my future… I have a chance at choosing my future now, Brat! I never thought that it would be a possibility until this summer. Anyway, just please, trust me, alright?
- You don't trust me.
X-No, I told you-
-Don't. I know it's true. And don’t apologise. I understand, alright? We haven't talked a while, so of course you wouldn't-
X-No, Brat! Listen and don't interrupt. It's not that! I don't think that you’d do something terrible if you knew my name. I can't even imagine how you could. But… But I do think that you wouldn't want to be my friend if you knew who I was. So I want to have a chance to show you that I'm a decent person first.
-What? Don't be ridiculous! Unless you're He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, or... or, I don't know Professor Snape or Draco Malfoy, or… someone equally dreadful, you have nothing to worry about! Just tell me that you are not a dark wizard and wish me no harm and I'll believe you.
…
Git? Did you go away?
X-No, I’m here. Just thinking.
-I meant what I said. It doesn’t matter who you are. I understand about families, you can’t choose your father. So he was a Death Eater, so what? You aren’t one, are you? And you’re not planning on becoming one, right?
X-No. I’m not a Death Eater and I’ll do my best not to become one. (Remember that the diary can’t lie?) And I'm not the Dark Lord either, in case you were wondering, but I'm not sure what to tell you about the other names you've listed.
-Oh! Well, Professor Snape is this really nasty Potions teacher we have and he's ugly as sin. Greasy and... Generally, an epitome of eww. And you should know Malfoy, right? At least by reputation. He went to your school, after all.
X-Yes, can't really deny that.
-Well, you know what he’s like then.
X-No. No, I don't. Explain it to me. How did a poor transfer student make it to your eww list next to the ugly teacher and Snake Face?
-Snake Face? LOL. You call him that?
X-Never mind what I call him. Why do you hate Malfoy so much?
-You’re joking, right? You said you knew him?
X-Yes, and I know quite a few people in Durmstrang who are a lot nastier.
-I can only imagine. (Insert shivers of horror.) Well, what do I hate about Draco Death Eater Malfoy? First of all, Death, secondly Eater, thirdly, he's simply repulsive! The way he talks, the things he talks about. Then, the way he walks in the hall, not looking at anybody as if we were all beneath him, not worthy of his notice, and the way he eats, of all things!
X-The way he eats?! What's wrong with the way he eats?
-As if the broomstick in his arse reaches his skull. Does the guy ever relax? … Git? You there?
X-Yes.
-Something happening there? You busy?
X-Yes. I'm sorry, I have to go. Forgot I have a tutoring session.
-You tutor? Or...?
X-Later, okay?
-Yes, sorry. Bye.
Draco sat on his bed for quite a while before venturing out from behind the curtains. Needless to say, he never made it to dinner, lest he offended anyone with his table manners. Draco scowled. And who the hell did the chit think she was? No doubt she had atrocious manners herself, and how the hell would she walk in the halls if everyone either stared at her or ignored her? Bestow her benign smile on them?
Now Draco did throw the diary to the bottom of his trunk.
“And don’t think you’re coming out any time soon either!” he muttered darkly toward the only representation of his ire’s subject he had.
After the first anger had abated, Draco suddenly felt utterly humiliated. He was a failure, not only to his father, but in his own eyes, too. He hadn’t made it in Durmstrang and now he was a pariah at Hogwarts. He didn’t fit in anywhere – there he had been too soft, here he was too hard.
Nothing Brat told him had been that surprising, so why was he so upset? He’d known before how most of Hogwarts viewed him. Except that he’d imagined that he’d be more feared than ridiculed. It was entirely foolish to be upset, and it didn't change any of his plans, so-
Wait! What did Brat say about the reanimation spell? She said she'd just learned it. She learned it and it was Thursday and Gryffs had the lesson right before Slytherins on Wednesday. Was it possible that they were a week behind with program? Of course it was, but what really bothered Draco was the obvious conclusion that Brat must be in his year.
He opened his trunk. After a minute of feverish digging he found his list. Draco remembered what was on it, he just wanted to make sure. And yes, there it was, his personal nightmare:
Year 6:
Lavender Brown – PB, very pretty, but into divination? - check for brains
Parvati Patil – HB, exotic, divination?
He'd seen enough of all the three girls to know that it couldn't be Brown or Patil. The chits were entirely too brain-dead. Draco crushed the list and threw it back into the trunk.
He'd eliminated Granger on her blood status alone, but now it suddenly seemed overly optimistic. There were only two possibilities – either he'd misread something Brat wrote him two years ago and she was indeed a Mudblood, or he was heavily underestimating Patil's intelligence. –But it must be the latter. It must be.
Or maybe it's one of the fifth years who got the spell from an upper student or a seventh year who's extremely slow and is retaking the subject.
And all this speculation was utterly useless. Abso-effin-lutely useless.
Second week of December, Friday
Draco didn't buy that crap about people being beautiful when angry. Even if you loved them very much anger only made people ugly. In the case of Ginny Weasley, however, he didn't mind her being angry that much; even red in the face, she was still somewhat fetching. What he did mind though, was her being angry with him especially when she was being unfair.
“You're such a nasty pig, Malfoy! He's a third year, Malfoy. A third year! What the hell did he even do to you, huh?”
Draco smirked. “I just happen to get off on hurting ickle little children, Weasley. Didn’t you know?” He knew that trying to explain things was showing weakness and he had no intention of giving an inch. “Did you see their pretty purple faces as they choked? All six and a half seconds of it?”
For a moment, the girl just gaped at him as if she had no idea what to say, but then she brandished her wand so quickly that it was only a fragment of a second that saved Draco from being hexed. Thankfully, the redhead didn't want to duel. Abruptly, she turned around and stormed off.
What possessed Draco to do what he did then remained a mystery to him even later, but without any conscious thought, he grabbed the girl's wrist and said quietly to her back, “Just one more thing, Weasley. Been playing around with any diaries lately?”
Very slowly, she turned back to him and her chestnut-coloured eyes were glazed with shock.
“You...” was all she choked out before the shock cleared only to be replaced with a livid sheen. Her tiny fist landed in the middle of his face out of nowhere.
“Bingo!” was all Draco had time to think before his brain registered that his head must have exploded.
“You okay?” he heard Pansy ask, as she handed him her handkerchief.
Don’t be an idiot, Draco thought, but he might have said it out loud, because she didn’t ask anything else.
The bubbling pain, however, took a background noise in his head, which was overexcited from finding his Brat. Chances that the Weasley girl wasn’t her were extremely low.
First week of school, January
“Mr Malfoy?”
“Pardon?”
“Pay attention, Mr Malfoy. What am I, a meaningless apparition? I asked you to name runes that have healing properties brought forth only by moonlight during solstice.”
With difficulty, Draco recalled the chapter and recited the answer.
The first weekend after realising who Brat was had been a century-long agony. Brat (Ginny!) wrote him a short note that night after smashing his nose but unsurprisingly it failed to lift his spirits.
Hey Git! Can you write tonight? I really need to unwind. I had a fight with a local non-entity and I want to forget all about it. You always make me laugh. Come? Please?
Needless to say, he answered the note with his own failing to write anything back. Instead, Draco had immediately stashed the diary under his mattress and for a whole seventeen seconds he had managed to pretend that it didn’t burn his back through a foot of bedding.
After that, however, it had been so difficult not to reach for his diary that through the evening Draco frequently had to go downstairs into the Common Room to get away. And when all the hustle and bustle there annoyed the crap out of him, he had even resorted to studying in the library. Or pretended to.
Thankfully, the remainder of autumn term was filled with manoeuvring between Montague, Pucey, and Parkinson’s sieges, executing pre-planned defence strategies and working out impromptu counter-attacks. In short – Draco Malfoy was having the time of his life. Slowly, he got used to the low ache of awareness of his untouched book under the mattress. It was only in the evenings, when everyone retired to their beds, that his hand really started itching for it.
In the end, he hadn't managed to throw it out as he vowed to do every evening, but neither had he taken it out to write in it either. Then very soon it was Christmas, and to stop torturing himself, he decided to leave the book at school. Draco regretted it as soon as he saw the train on the platform, but by then it was already too late. Fine. It was just how he’d wanted it. And perhaps she'd grow fonder of him while missing him.
Right.
The first thing Draco did when he got back was grab the book and sit on his bed recalling each and every look filled with hatred Ginny Weasley had ever directed at him. How could anyone hate him just because of who his father was was beyond him, but what really bothered him was that it went in direct conflict with what he knew about Brat.
So why did he even want her to like him if she was so intolerably ignorant? She was self-righteous and snotty and, as it now turned out, was a hypocrite. Draco realised, of course, that everybody was bound to be different in their writings than in real life, but in her case it was more than disappointing.
However, now that the lessons had started, Draco fully expected it to be easier, but for some unfathomable reason the masochistic part of his brain had decided it would be a wonderful idea to pack the blasted diary into his book bag this morning. He'd managed to resist it until the third lesson, but Merlin help him, Binns was boooring!
Brat? I'm sorry, I've been MIA all this time. I blame my moronic brain. I don't even know how exactly it happened, but when packing for the trip home, I managed to leave my diary at school.
Telling half-truths came easily to Draco and the little twinge of guilt he felt was promptly squashed. Technically, he'd not lied and he couldn't very well tell her that he'd been contemplating burning the diary because he'd found out who she was. Draco wasn’t even sure why he was contacting her again; he certainly wasn’t ready to introduce himself just to be scowled or laughed at.
You've got time this evening? he continued nonetheless, I'll be around at ten. If you can't come, drop me a line? Unless you're so livid with me that you'd rather stand me up. Because I'd totally understand. I'm willing to grovel.
Humbly at your mercy,
Git
However, this time his acting up to his self-deprecating persona backfired. Draco had been idiot enough to be surprised when there was no message or the girl herself even after eleven. He'd fully expected her to let him wait for half an hour and then allow herself to be coaxed into granting him forgiveness after a thorough begging. But neither that night nor the next brought any response. Then days went by and still nothing. Perhaps he’d been deluding himself after all – there really was no more to the girl than what he saw in the halls – all reckless arrogance and ignorance.
But, of course, the Weasley girl was proud; he’d seen that in Brat too. Not at all like most of the girls he knew and certainly unlike any of the girls his parents would have over for tea. She probably didn't know any better than to be so vindictively rude. But then again the answer might’ve been neglected simply because she'd finally thrown the diary out during the holidays. Or maybe...
Whatever the reason might be, by the time Draco went down for breakfast four days later, he was livid. Of course she hadn't thrown the diary out! Girls just didn't do things like that! Any normal girl would be keeping it at hand and peeking into it every half an hour to make sure she knew when to start her silent treatment. When a girl thought she had a chance with a guy she pretended not to care about you, but in truth she'd put a tracking spell on you if she could get away with it.
“Out of the way,” he growled at a random firstie, shouldered through a throng of Hufflepuffs, and scowled at anything that got between him and the Great Hall.
Girls were clingy by nature; he knew that for a fact. Except it was a Weasley girl he was talking about and there was nothing remotely clingy about her. Perhaps she'd really never thought about him like that and... And then Draco remembered one of the Hogwarts rumour mill items that was so stale it was regarded as a fact. That fact said that Ginny Weasley had been in love with Harry Potter all her life and was even now just waiting for him to acknowledge her as his true love.
Which was ridiculous, of course; he'd never seen anything that would suggest her being in love with the four-eye. But did it mean that she would be prone to get swept away by some random pen-pal? Unlikely.
A week later he didn’t think it mattered one way or another. She never wrote back.
Second week of March, Tuesday
“You know I should give you two a prize, what do you think?” Draco drawled.
He was lounging in an armchair facing the door, so he saw the heroes of the hour the moment they entered the Common Room.
“A prize?” Crabbe’s little eyes lit up with suspicious interest.
“What prize?” Goyle echoed his friend’s interest.
“A first prize,” Draco continued, “for the lamest joke ever.” Several Slytherins in the room snickered. “Littering the hall with paper penises? Really? What are you, twelve?”
The fat duo scowled, huffed and stomped up the stairs to their dorm.
“You do better then,” one of them grumbled.
“Anything I’ve ever done is better than anything those two will ever do,” Montague remarked.
“Really? I thought them hiding Weasley’s schoolbag was pretty funny,” Pansy offered.
“They hid Weasel’s bag?” Draco raised his eyebrow lazily. “Must have been ages ago if I haven’t heard about it?”
“Not really.” Pansy shrugged. “At the beginning of this term, I think. And it wasn’t the Weasel. It was the little Weasley, Potter’s shadow. They hid her schoolbag in one of the empty cupboards in the second floor corridor. Filch found it by mistake almost two weeks later.”
“Really?” Draco said, but he never heard an answer; his mind was too busy calculating.
A wild hope surged through him and it was all he could do to not jump up and storm into his dorm room right away. Thankfully it was only ten minutes later that he managed to slip away unnoticed.
His hands shaking, Draco dug out his diary once more and opened it before he managed to talk himself down from the feverish hope. And there it was – an entry only part of him believed would be there.
Git! Hey, sorry for disappearing on you, but I guess it’s only fair since you disappeared on me during the hols too. And of course, I’m not angry with you for leaving your diary at school! And before you ask, I wouldn’t have been even if I hadn’t lost mine.
Anyway, I’m really, really sorry, but it wasn’t my fault! You won’t believe what happened! Or actually I’m hoping you will! In short, a local moronic duo pinched my schoolbag two weeks ago and the diary was in it! I’ve only got it back just now and you have no idea how happy I am to see that you’ve not ditched our friendship! Or at least you hadn’t before…
I just hope you’re still around. I’ll be here tonight at ten and well, other nights too if you’re no longer checking back.
Hope you’ll write back!
Brat
It’s been four days and I’ve yet to have an answer. Well, I’ll be checking every now and then anyway, alright? Hope to hear from you soon,
B
Okay, here’s what I’ve decided. I’ll be checking here every Saturday at 10pm, just so you know. And if I you’ve burned your diary and I’m just making a total fool out of myself, I’m gonna hunt you down and feed you my diary page by page. You’ve been warned. Git.
B
Draco sat on his bed staring at the three last entries, waves of elation and shame taking their turns. Of course she hadn’t thrown the diary out! Of course, she hadn’t given up! And, of course, she hadn’t been playing games with him! That was not her way. This, he reread the last entries, was how he’d expected Ginny Weasley to act! But the last entry had been written weeks before; did she still check the diary every Saturday? Only one way to find out.
TBC
Author notes: Thank you for reading, those who's not lost the interest. The last chapter is almost ready, but it depends on my child when I'll get to posting again. Hopefully it will be within the next two weeks. But you know what helps me into the mood for writing? Reviews! I'm not just saying that; it's true!
Betaed by the ever helpful Ness Frost who notices things I don't.
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