It was a quiet Sunday evening in February. Harry and Hermione had come back from their evening walk around the lake since it was fairly warm for winter, as long as they wore their warm robes. Ron had also been with them, but arriving at the castle he left Harry and Hermione to go to the closest bathroom.

The common room was quite full but Harry and Hermione found seats at the uncomfortable wooden table, which was completely unoccupied. "Have you made progress with the egg?" Hermione asked.

Harry groaned internally. He had been happy just being with his friends like a normal person and not being reminded that he was the way too young fourth Champion of the Triwizard's Tournament. But he guessed he could not avoid it forever. It was a smart move, asking Harry about the second task when Ron was not around. Ron always defended Harry from Hermione's interrogations.

"Uuh..."

"Harry!" Hermione shrieked. "You only have a week left!"

"Yeah, relax." Harry said. "I already know the next step." He did. Kind of. Cedric had told him to take the egg into the bath with him. But what kind of stupid hint was that? Harry had the suspicion that Cedric was just pulling his leg. The Hufflepuff boy wanted to win, after all.

"What is it then?" Hermione squinted at him. Harry saw that she did not believe him.

"Uuh..." Harry said. "Oh, look. There's Ron!" He was right. Ron came stumbling through the portrait hole. He did not seem to mind his clumsy entrance though, just walked over to Hermione and Harry, beaming.

"You'll never guess what I just found." He did not sit down, instead standing in front of the table with his hands behind his back.

"What is it?" Hermione asked.

"Well... I just bumped into Malfoy. He told me I should be more careful but it was his fault. Stupid git. Anyways, he lost something." With a sweeping gesture he pulled his hand from behind his back and let something fall onto the table.

"A book?" Harry asked, eyeing the green, kind of battered cover. It looked like it had been carried around quite a lot.

"Not a book." Ron sounded offended and laid a hand on the book. "It's a diary."

"You took Malfoy's diary?" Hermione asked with a tone of disapproval.

"He dropped it." Ron said defensively. "What was I supposed to do? Give it back to him?"

"Actually, yes." Hermione said.

"Hermione." Ron said. "Since when do you support being nice to Malfoy? He's a prat."

"I completely agree." Hermione said. "But I wouldn't want anyone to read my diary. Especially people who are openly hostile towards me. This is extremely private-"

"But this is Malfoy." Ron argued, like it was actually an argument.

"This is not right." Hermione said. "If you're not gonna give it back, I'll do it."

"But first, let's see what's inside." Ron grinned.

"No." Hermione said, reaching for the diary but Ron was faster. He held it behind his back. "Ron!" Hemione scolded.

"What, Hermione?" Ron said. "Maybe there's something in there that can help us get him back for all the horrible things he said and done to us."

"We can find another way to do that." Hermione argued. "But reading his diary... It's too far."

"I disagree." Ron said. "If Malfoy found one of our diaries, I mean, not that I have one, but if. If he found one of your diaries, I bet my broom stick that he would read it as well."

"But do you want to sink on his level?" Hermione asked.

"In this case, absolutely." Ron said.

Hermione sighed in frustration. "Harry, say something."

"Umm..." Harry looked between his friends, then at Ron's arms that were hiding the diary behind his back. "I would actually be very interested what Malfoy wrote in there."

"Really?" Hermione asked in disbelief while Ron grinned widely. "I always knew you boys were insensitive but reading someone's diary?"

"But it's Malfoy's diary." Harry said. "Are you not a little bit interested what is going on inside his head?"

"No." Hermione deadpanned.

"Well, I am." Harry said. "Ron, let's check it out in our dormitory."

He went to stand up. "No!" Hermione interrupted, then looked sheepish. "Okay, maybe I'm a bit interested."

Ron and Harry grinned at each other but sat down at the uncomfortable table without any comment. Ron opened the first page of the diary but Harry interrupted, "Wait... Can I read?"

"Why?" Ron asked. Harry shrugged. He did not have a rational explanation. He was just interested and hearing Ron read it made him feel like it was not really Malfoy writing this.

"How about you put it in the middle and we read it for ourselves." Hermione suggested.

"But you will be done when I'm only at the third sentence." Ron complained.

"I'll wait for you." Hermione reassured.

"But it's embarrassing." Ron grumbled, but he laid the open diary on the table for his friends to see. Harry leaned over and started reading.

Dear Diary,

This is stupid. Why would I talk to a book? Father also says Diaries are something for weak souls, but mother says it can be therapeutic. She says dark times are coming. Whatever she means by that...

"Dark times?" Ron wondered.

"They're Death Eaters." Hermione said. "If they think there's something dangerous coming you should be even more careful, Harry."

"I'm always careful." Harry grumbled. It was not entirely the truth, and Hermione knew that, but he was tired of everyone telling him to be careful. Like they knew better. Without another word, he leant back over the diary and continued reading.

Dear Diary,

I'm home for Christmas. Or more like New Years since Christmas was the Yuleball. I've been there with Pansy. I like her, but I hate when she touches me. It makes me feel uncomfortable. I know father would be thrilled if I married her but I don't want to. Just the thought makes me sick.
I've also seen Potter. Of course I have. Everyone has. He's a Champion. Stupid Potter always in the middle of the attention. And then he had this pretty Indian Gryffindor girl on his arm. He didn't pay much attention to her though. I think he can't handle pretty girls very well. Just like his Weasel friend. Dinner's ready-

"Funny." Ron grinned. "Second entry and it's about us."

"Why am I stupid for taking Parvati to the ball though?" Harry wondered.

"Like he said." Hermione grinned. "You can't handle pretty girls."

Harry grinned cheekily. "But I can handle you. What does that say about you?"

Hermione looked offended. Before she could say anything though, Ron snapped. "Shut up Harry. She's-" He cut himself off, glanced at Hermione, then stared down at the Diary, his ears turning bright red.

"She's what now, Ron?" Harry teased. Ron glared at him, looked down at the Diary and went to turn the page. Harry slapped his hand on the page though. "Wait, I wasn't finished."

"Go on, then." Ron said. Harry knew he was just trying to change the subject but Harry went along. Malfoy seemed more interesting than Ron's obvious opinions about Hermione.

Dear Diary,

I've noticed how father is more anxious than usual. I think even Uncle Sev is worried. I wonder why though. I wonder if it's my fault. Why else would they not tell me what's going on? I know mother is trying to distract me and act normal, but she's too cheery. Well, she's acting because I can still see that she's also worried. Maybe we're losing our fortune? It would be a reason to worry.

"Oh, Malfoys have financial problems. Have to give up two of their house elves, eh? How awful." Ron said sarcastically.

"Don't joke about house elves. Poor creatures." Hermione sighed.

"Well, these are Malfoy's personal worries." Harry said. "You can't make fun of that either. It's scary if something goes downhill. I bet money hasn't been a worry for him until that point. It's new and everything new is scary."

"Why are you defending him?" Ron said. "Personally, I would like for Malfoy to get some money struggles. Then he knows how it is for the general folk."

"I guess you're right." Harry shrugged, then looked back down at the diary. "Wow, this one is very long. Last entry though. He hasn't been very active in here." His friends just hummed in agreement and leaned back over the Diary.

Dear Diary,

I'm sitting in my dormitory. Alone. I don't know why I feel so down. I'm kind of happy to be back in Hogwarts, home was tense. But I don't feel good. I don't know why. I feel alone, even though I'm constantly surrounded by Vincent and Greg. And sometimes Pansy. But I feel like I can't talk to them about things that really matter. I can't talk to them about my feelings without seeming weak. I feel this melancholy and I don't know where it's coming from. And with this melancholy come the negative thoughts about everything. My friends only like me because I'm a Malfoy. Because I have money and influence. If I would tell them, they would probably say I'm crazy, but they would never convince me of the opposite. I also feel weird talking to them about deep things like that. I'm Malfoy, Slytherin's Prince, and I don't give a shit about other people who are not Slytherins. That's what I'm supposed to be. Nobody looks under the mask, nobody bothers to break down the walls. And I can't blame them. Why would anyone take the time? Nobody really likes me. I don't even like myself. I seek for attention. Anyone's. But especially from two people. My father and Potter. Why Potter? I don't know. He fascinates me. He's the embodiment of a Gryffindor. Just like I'm supposed to be the embodiment of Slytherin. But maybe there is more underneath these layers. Just like mine. I sometimes wish that he was the one breaking down my walls. That we would take off each other's layers until we're just us. Not in a literal sense, although I have to admit that I've been thinking about that too...

Harry had to go back a few sentences to make sure he had read correctly. "Wait." Ron said after Harry had read the passage for the third time. "Is it just me or did Malfoy write that he wishes to have intimate physical contact with Harry?"

There was a tense silence where the three friends were staring down at the diary. "Not just physical." Hermione broke the silence, like that would make it any better.

Harry continued staring down at Malfoy's surprisingly neat handwriting, ignoring his friends who were now staring at him. Sometimes, when he was safe and alone in his bed, no one to judge him and no one to hear him, Harry had had similar thoughts. But he would have never ever admitted that out loud. He would never let those dreams escape the safety of his bed.

Reading Malfoy dreaming about getting closer to Harry, he let himself think about it as an actual realistic possibility. It was surreal. "Let's just read the end." Harry said. "Maybe we've misunderstood."

... Sometimes I imagine how it would be if I just walked up to him and asked him to Hogsmeade. He probably would think it is a plot against him and I'm just kidding. And I would go along with it, say something mean, because I would be embarrassed and too much of a coward to tell the truth. What a stupid dream of mine, wanting to have the Golden Gryffindor Boy, The Boy Who Lived, for myself. It's ridiculous. And unrealistic. And utterly insane. I should just stop. I'll stop.

"That's it?" Harry wondered. He looked up to his friends.

"Well, that's... surprising." Ron said.

"It's not really though." Hermione said. "I mean, I don't want to say I've seen it coming, but looking back, it's obvious, isn't it? How he always was around somehow, always looking for Harry's attention..."

"Well," Ron shrugged. "He said he'll stop now, didn't he? So it's over."

That was not what Harry had wanted to hear his friends say. Something tugged in Harry's chest painfully. He stared at Malfoy's neat handwriting. 'I'll stop'. The page blurred in front of his eyes.

"Harry?" Hermione asked. Harry heard it muffled, like there was cotton in his ears. "Are you okay?"

Harry looked up at her, blinked a few times to clear his blurred vision, then nodded mechanically. "I think he's just shocked." Ron said. "I would be too if this git had these kind of fantasies of me. Disgusting. It's okay, mate. We'll throw it into the Great Lake and never think about it again. Malfoy also put it behind himself so we don't have to worry."

Harry stood up abruptly, not looking at his friends. "I'll keep this." Harry grabbed the diary. "Until we know what to do with it." He added quickly, then ran up to his dormitory, probably leaving a confused Ron and a thoughtful Hermione behind.

Reaching his bed, he pulled the curtains closed, laid on his stomach and opened the diary again. He read the entries, especially the last one, again and again until he eventually fell asleep, his cheek pressed against the pages.

#

The next day, Monday, was so full of lessons and homework that they barely got to talk about the Diary. When Hermione asked Harry how he was doing at breakfast, he just said he was fine, although he was agitated and constantly aware of Malfoy. When Ron asked when they should throw the Diary into the lake in Potions lesson, Harry pretended to be too concentrated on his potion to answer. When Ron asked the same at lunch, Harry excused himself to the bathroom. When Ron suggested going out to the lake with the Diary after lessons, Harry told him they should do their homework first, which immediately got Hermione's approval. Then, Harry pretended to take so long for his homework that it was already too late to go out afterwards.

In the evening, he was tossing and turning in his bed. He wondered what he should do. The more often he read the diary the more he let himself dream. Consequently, the desire to help Malfoy, to get him out of his melancholy and get close to him in a way he had never let anyone close to him, got stronger every minute.

As Harry slowly drifted into sleep, a plan was forming in his head.

###

When Draco entered the Slytherin common room, all of his friends were leant over a table, writing furiously on a piece of parchment. Draco resented Professor McGonagall for giving them such a long essay to write.

"Draco, finally." Crabbe said. "We're almost done."

Draco sighed. He did not feel like writing this essay at all. That was part of why he had gone on a walk around the lake, but he also needed to clear his head and be alone for a while. It was not the first time.

He knew his friends were not doing their homework very thoroughly and were writing fairly big. Draco was actually ambitious though. He did not want his father to think he was slacking for some reason. It was going to be a long night.

Letting himself fall into a chair beside Gregory, he tried to built up the motivation to actually get out the materials needed. A strap of his bag was still in his slack hand while the bag lay on the dirty ground. Draco let out a heavy sigh that made Pansy look up. "Come on, Draco. The sooner you get started the sooner it's over."

"Yeah, I know." Draco grumbled. Slowly, he lifted up his bag until it landed in his lap. He opened it, idly looking through his books for his transfiguration one and parchment. He froze when his fingers brushed a familiar, green cover. He grasped it and pulled it up. No doubt, it was his diary.

Quickly, he let it fall back into his bag and jumped up. "I- I forgot something in the dormitories." He told his friends, who did not even react.

Draco hurried up into fourth year boys dormitory, his mind racing. He thought he had lost his diary. He had noticed it yesterday when he felt the desire to tell someone about Harry Potter, who seemed to watch him in all of his classes and the meals. It had been hard to contain the beating of his heart and it had been even harder to not look back and act normal.

Admittedly, he had been extremely worried that someone had read the diary, but he had forgotten about it during this stressful day. Now it was back though, Merlin only knew how. And he needed to assure himself that everything was fine and no one knew about his deepest feelings and secrets. Especially the Slytherins.

Arriving in his room, he took out the Diary and sat down on the edge of his bed. Fortunately, the room was empty. Draco slowly let his fingers glide down the green book cover before opening it. He skimmed over his entries, almost sighing in relief when everything seemed to look just the same, when he noticed that something was shining through the last page. He turned it and was shocked to see another entry, just not written by him. It was a completely different handwriting and instead of starting with 'Dear Diary' it started with 'Dear Draco'.

With his heart beating up to his throat, he started to read.

Dear Draco,

First, I wanted to say that I'm really sorry I read your Diary. I can't say I regret it though. Before you get angry though, hear me out. Or more like read me out... Bad joke. Anyways, what I wanted to say is that I can relate to you so well. Not particularly because I feel the same melancholy you do, but because life keeps throwing things at me and I don't know how to deal with it. I love my friends, and unlike you, I tell them almost everything, but often I feel like they don't understand, not really. But I think if I told you, if we both threw our pride aside, if we listened to each other, we could have something. Something I will never be able to find in anybody else.
I have written my identity on the last page. You can now decide if you want to hex me into oblivion or if you want to discover this something with me.

With shaking hands, Draco turned the pages, hoping it was one person in particular. The very last page was filled with a few lines in the same messy handwriting as the last entry.

Dearest Draco,

you were right. I probably would have thought it was a plot against me if you asked me out. But I'm pretty sure internally I would have thought, "Come on, Malfoy. Do something, say something, to show me that you mean it."
Granted, I don't know how you should have done that. I also don't know how I should proof you that I mean it. If it helps, Ron and Hermione don't know I've written this to you. It can stay our secret, if you want.

Yours sincerely
Harry (Potter, in case you know more Harry's)

Draco read the letters at least ten more times. He was torn between feeling happy, suspicious and extremely mortified. Harry knew about his not so innocent thoughts about him now, after all. If this was really Harry. It could also be any other person who had read about his fascination with Harry and was now pranking him.

He thought about his next step. In fact, his mind was so preoccupied that he could not concentrate on his Transfiguration essay at all. At four in the morning, he finally gave up on homework and fell into a fitful sleep.

#

At breakfast, Draco kept glancing at the Gryffindor table. He often caught Harry looking back at him. He looked nervous, like he was scared of Draco's actions, which he should. No one should read Draco Malfoy's Diary and get away with that. But, well, this one was bigger than just revenge for snooping.

Draco shovelled his breakfast quickly so he could get up sooner than most of the students. Then, he hurried through the castle until he reached an empty classroom close to the Charms classroom. How Draco knew that Harry's first class was Charms? Well, gotta know your enemies' schedule, right? At least that's what he told himself.

Through the door crack, Draco watched Gryffindors pass the classroom to get to Charms. Finally, he saw a flashy red head nearing Draco's empty classroom. Ron Weasley was listening to something Hermione Granger was explaining. Harry also seemed to be listening, but as they got closer, Draco could see that he did not look like he was actually hearing anything Hermione was saying. He had a distant thoughtful look in his eyes.

Draco took advantage of Hermione and Ron's focus on each other. When the trio walked past, Draco grabbed Harry's robes from behind, pulled him into the empty classroom forcefully and closed the door quickly.

"Draco." Harry sounded breathless. For a few seconds, they just stared at each other, not making a sound. Draco was struck by hearing Harry call him by his first name. "So, I take it you read the letter." Harry finally said.

"I take it you read my diary." Draco was kind of proud of the scared look on Harry's face that was caused by his expressionlessness and neutral tone of voice. He kept it like this when he asked the next question. He could not show himself vulnerable yet. "Do you mean it?"

"Don't you trust me?" Harry asked back.

"Not yet." Draco said, still not daring to let any emotion show on his face.

Harry smiled. "I guess we'll have to learn that first." Draco squinted, trying to figure out what was making Harry so happy now. In the next moment, Harry's smile fell a bit. "I have class now and I bet you do too. So, meet me here at five this afternoon?"

Draco gave a short, barely perceptible nod. Harry beamed, taking a few steps towards Draco. Before he knew it, Draco felt Harry's lips brush his cheek. Harry pulled back, giving Draco a small smile. Then he was out of the door.

Draco stared at the closing door, brushing his finger against his still tingling cheek. Maybe his mum was right. Maybe writing diary helped.