Title: Dear Diary/Fuck You

Rating: R (for language)

Beta: simeysgirl

A/N: 'Save the Hex' auction fic for Brinimc. The (very long and very awesome) list of prompts she gave me included: Non-established relationship, Hogwarts - 8th year, messy, nuzzling, make-over, journal, fighting, mean laughter, "I don't even know why I bother. He'll never see me that way. He'll never care enough to look.", Funny!Lighthearted!Harry, cute, adorable, puppy-dog crush, with lots of stalking. She also said she likes a self-conscious!Harry (especially when it comes to looks), flangst and vulnerable!Draco & hero!Harry. ALL of these prompts influenced this fic, but I guess it's up to personal interpretation as to whether they are actually in the fic or not. ANYWAY, I hope you like it, Brini, sorry it took me so long.

Dear Diary

It's my first week back at Hogwarts since the war. I thought my life would be easier now... less complicated. I thought I'd be able to just enjoy my last year of school without worrying about dark wizards that want me dead or constantly finding myself in dangerous situations. Already I've managed to bugger up that plan.

I just can't help how I feel about him.

To everyone else he seems like the same arrogant git. He's still swaggering around the castle like he owns it, he still answers back to teachers in class and he still picks fights with anyone he feels like... though mostly the person he feels like fighting with is me. What everyone else fails to see is what's going on underneath all that. If you look well enough it's obvious all that anger and brash behaviour is just bravado.

Since I saw him on our first day back I haven't been able to get him out of my head. When I look at him all I can see is the nervous face of a defiant boy who looked me in the eye, but refused to identify me. All I can think about is his arms holding so tightly around me I could hardly breathe through the heat surrounding us. All I can picture is his look of shock and relief when the Wizengamot found him not guilty after I had secretly testified on his behalf. All I feel is the urge to hold him and kiss him.

I think I'm in love with Draco Malfoy. And I am so screwed.

- HP

Since the end of the war Draco just hadn't been the same. He didn't feel the lust for life that he once had. If he felt anything at all, it was disheartened. He didn't believe he should have even survived the war. When he was facing trial before the Wizengamot he had been miserable, but he knew it was what he deserved; if not death, then a lifetime in Azkaban. So he had been shocked beyond words when they had cleared him of all charges and set him free, on the sole condition that he attend Hogwarts for his so-called—because really, should last year actually be counted at all?—eighth year to finish his education.

Regardless of the fact that Draco did not understand why he had been pardoned, he found himself gladly back for his first week at Hogwarts. Initially he had wanted to make amends and to try harder as a student. Not just academically, but socially. He wanted to be a better person. He regretted his past actions and was looking forward to a fresh start, wanting to make the most of the opportunity he didn't believe he deserved.

All that changed as soon as he walked into the Great Hall on the first evening back. It felt as though every pair of eyes was on him, burning him, boring through him. He could tell they were all judging him. Hating him. It was at that moment he had decided to abandon his original plan. It was obvious no one was expecting repentance from him. Everyone still hated him, still needed to hate him. Realising this, Draco had changed his plan on the spot, and headed proudly over the the Slytherin tables, glaring at anyone who dared to catch his eye.

It had gone on from there. He acted much the same as he had done at school before the war, enlisting the help of the only other two Slytherin eight years. Draco, Blaise and Greg had agreed that first night in the Slytherin dormitory to always look out for each other, which included getting on board with Draco's newly dubbed 'fuck them all and act like nothing's changed' plan.

Which is why when, during their second week of classes, Draco and his friends found themselves alone in the courtyard with Potter and his friends, they wasted no time getting back into the swing of things.

"Well, if it isn't the three little heroes," said Draco sarcastically as he approached.

Weasley and Granger were on their feet immediately, flanking Potter and ready for the next attack. Potter himself simply looked up from the book he had in his hands, a resigned look on his face. This pissed Draco off instantly; how dare Potter just sit there looking bored instead of fighting back.

"Not going to let your sidekicks do all the work, are you, Potter?" Draco drawled. "Doesn't seem very valiant of you."

Behind him, Draco could hear Blaise and Greg snigger.

"Shut up, Malfoy," spat Weasley.

"Oh, excellent comeback. You really hurt my feelings with that one." Draco smirked, but his gloating was soon interrupted.

"Just leave us alone. We don't want any trouble," said Granger, almost amicably.

"Tough shit; we do," was the gruff reply from Greg.

At Greg's words Weasley leaped forward to defend Granger and then things really went wild. Draco could hear squabbling all around him between his own friends and Potter's, but he hardly noticed it, really. He had his eyes trained on Potter, waiting for him to jump up and verbally, if not physically, attack Draco for the assault he had started on him and his friends.

Instead of taking action, Potter simply sat there staring right back at Draco, a small frown on his face as he calmly looked Draco in the eyes. Not seeing even a hint of malice in Potter's own eyes, Draco was confused and annoyed. He tried again.

"Not going to run to your friends' aid, Potter?" Draco taunted.

"They can take care of themselves." Potter spoke for the first time. "Was there something you wanted?" he asked casually.

Pursing his lips in anger, Draco wanted to walk over and shake Potter. Where was the ireful brat he'd been fighting with since they were both 11? Where was the defiance, the energy, the passion?

"Fuck you, Potter."

"Right," said Potter impassively. "Thanks for that."

Draco heard Potter sigh a little as he turned his attention back to his book, completely ignoring Draco.

Practically growling with indignation, Draco spun around, yelled at Blaise and Greg to follow him and swiftly exited the courtyard. He did nothing but curse Potter's name all the way back to the Slytherin common room.

Dear Diary

It was almost like old times today. He and his friends started a fight with me, Ron and Hermione. Well, actually, they started a fight with Ron and Hermione. I didn't actually get involved. I just don't see the point in all that anymore. I would say "Haven't we all grown up since then?", but considering how quickly Ron, and even Hermione jumped into the fight, it would seem that I'm the one who's grown up.

He seemed really annoyed when I wouldn't shout back at him or get angry. I'm not sure it's even possible for me to get angry at him, not anymore. Perhaps I might have done if he'd actually meant any of the things he said, but he didn't. I could see it in his eyes. They were clear, not full of rage like I've seen them far too many times before. I don't know what he's trying to prove by picking fights with me. What is he getting out of it?

I know he's changed. I just know it. You can't go through the things we went through together and not know. We saved each other's lives. And I'd do it again in a heartbeat, no matter how angry he pretends to be with me.

Eventually he'll see. He'll realise that I can't fight with him anymore, because I think more of him than that. I won't rise to the bait just because he wants me to, or because he wants to go back to what's familiar. I won't let him. I want him to see the change in me, like I see the change in him. I want him to see how much I care for him now. I want him to see me as more than his enemy.

I want him.

- HP

The next few days were frustrating for Draco. He didn't understand why Potter hadn't gotten angry with him, hadn't fought back. Draco spent most of his time withdrawn from the rest of the school, and even his friends, by staying cooped up in his dorm or escaping from the castle to wander the cold grounds.

All Draco had been thinking about was Potter. Potter was the only one who was treating him any differently, regardless of the fact that Draco was being his usual arrogant self. The only conclusion Draco could come to was that Potter must think he had out-grown Draco and their squabbles; that Potter thought he was now better than Draco somehow. This just enraged Draco further. He needed Potter to react to him. He needed the anger and fire that had always been present between the two of them. He needed that familiarity that would tell him nothing had changed, that everything was still okay.

If he wanted Potter to push back, Draco just had to push a little harder.

When Draco spotted Potter sitting alone in one of the window seats on the sixth floor, idly writing in a notebook, he wasted no time in putting his 'annoy Potter until he breaks' idea into action.

"Potter," he said, with as much disgust as his could muster.

Potter looked up, then quickly closed his book and put it into his bag without taking his eyes off of Draco.

"Hello," he said simply. He followed this greeting with a glance up and down the corridor before looking back at Draco. "You don't have to do this, you know."

"Do what?" asked Draco. He frowned at Potter, deciding he'd never be able to understand the stupid bloody Gryffindor. "Remind you everyday of what a ridiculous fool you are? It's not the most exciting job, but someone needs to do it."

"Never mind," whispered Potter, shaking his head slightly.

Draco shook his own head at Potter's subdued response. He looked at the boy in front of him and tried to decide on his next line of insults. There used to be so many faults to draw from, so many things Draco found irritating about Potter, but looking at him now all he saw was a speccy git who had saved his life.

Grasping at the 'speccy git' section of his thoughts rather than the 'saved his life' part, Draco began his tirade in earnest.

"Still wearing those stupid glasses, I see. It's a wonder you haven't gone blind, having to look at your own face in the mirror everyday. And really, Potter, did you get dragged through some Devil's Snare backwards? That's the only possible explanation for that mess you call hair." Draco could see the pain his words were causing in Potter's eyes, but still he simply sat there and took it. "And don't even get me started on your clothes. Where do you shop, Barney's Bargain Boutique? Everyone knows you have money, Potter, surely you could spare some time in your busy celebrity schedule to nip to Twilfitt and Tatting's. I'm sure anyone who has to look at you would be grateful."

Draco took a deep breath, deciding that was enough for now, and waited for Potter to explode.

Except Potter didn't explode.

Potter simply stood up, attempting to hide his hurt behind a mask of indifference, and hoisted his bag on to his shoulder.

"Well, thanks for the advice," he said calmly, before walking off down the corridor.

"Fuck you, Potter!" Draco yelled after him.

"If you say so," Potter called back, raising one arm in a half-wave without turning around.

Seething with what could only be anger, Draco gave in to the childish urge to stamp his foot before stalking away from the spot by the window in order to moan and rage in the privacy of the Slytherin dormitory.

Dear Diary

It's useless. He might have changed, but I think he still hates me. He definitely thinks I'm ugly, anyway. He caught me in my favourite spot on the sixth floor earlier writing that last entry about Ron and Hermione's latest argument. We were completely alone and I tried to talk to him. I tried to let him know that I know. Know that he's changed. He didn't care, or didn't realise.

He just starting ranting at me about how ugly I am. About my glasses and my hair and my clothes. It really hurt hearing all that from him. Of course it's nothing I haven't heard before, in fact I'm sure he's said a lot worse things to me in the past. But that's the past, you know? I certainly don't hate him anymore (far fucking from it), and I wish I could say he doesn't hate me anymore, either.

Changed, he may be, but he still doesn't like me. He might have not actually wanted to say all those horrible things to me, but for whatever stupid reason, he thinks he has to. Needs to. But he meant every word he said. And the worst part is, I can't blame him. I am ugly. I do have stupid glasses and messy hair. I have no fashion sense. I just wear whatever's comfortable. But considering he always looks amazing in his outfits, I guess I'll have to trust his judgement on that one.

I can't blame him. And I still can't hate him. Of course he thinks I'm ugly, he grew up looking like... well, like him! He's ridiculously bloody gorgeous. I'm sure I look like a horse's arse in comparison. It still hurts though, knowing he doesn't find me attractive.

What the hell can I do about it? Get a flipping make-over?

- HP

It took Draco a few days to come out of his sulk. It took him another couple before he realised he had been sulking because he felt guilty about the things he said to Potter. Yes, Potter was a messy-haired, tatty-looking, bespectacled sod, but Draco hadn't needed to be so mean about it. He hadn't needed to say anything at all. He'd simply wanted to get a rise out of Potter. Not only had he failed spectacularly at that, but he had also managed to hurt Potter in the process. As much as he wanted to fight with Potter again, he wanted it to be a mutual give and take of angry words that didn't really mean anything. He didn't want to actually upset him.

One morning, a week after that unnecessarily mean confrontation with Potter, Draco was on his way to the Herbology lesson he shared with Potter. During his walk down to the greenhouses Draco pondered what approach he should take to his Potter predicament next. He needed a way of riling him without actually upsetting him, which seemed like an impossible situation to Draco. The hot-headed Gryffindor was ruled by his emotions, if he didn't even hate Draco enough to argue with him anymore, then it would likely be impossible to anger the man without hurting his feelings. As refrained as Potter seemed since the war, Draco knew his emotions held the key to making Potter lash out.

Draco didn't get to think any further on his assessment of Potter's lack of emotional stability once he entered the greenhouse. This was due to the fact that Draco had spotted Potter and was suddenly lost for thoughts, as well as words. Potter was... damn it, Potter was hot. He was leaning back against one of the benches on his elbows, head bent towards Granger as he spoke with her. Potter's hair was smooth, shiny and flicked to one side so as not to obscure his vision. He was also wearing fashionable clothes that actually fit him. Feeling his mouth dropping open, Draco quickly looked away and hurried to his usual place at the large greenhouse table, thankfully the opposite side of the table and several metres down from Potter.

As the lesson began Draco couldn't stop himself from casting discreet glances at Potter under the guise of reaching for more compost and grabbing a pair of secateurs. That was definitely not the Potter Draco had been insulting on the sixth floor a week ago. He briefly wondered if Potter had a slightly more attractive twin brother, but knew he was just trying to rationalise the fact that he thought Potter was good-looking. Fuck it, gorgeous, even. He was also trying to deal with admitting to the fact that he was suddenly looking at Potter in a completely different way. A way that involved the fight he had envisioned ending with Draco pushing Potter against a wall and—

"Fuck!" Draco muttered to himself. He had managed to interrupt his own train of thought by dropping the secateurs on his foot.

"Are you okay?" asked Blaise, who had paused in his own trimming work to look over at Draco.

Draco simply nodded and mumbled something unintelligible as he bent to retrieve the gardening tool and make sure he hadn't broken his foot.

When he emerged from beneath the bench Draco caught sight of Potter watching him. As handsome as the stupid git may be all of a sudden, Draco still scowled at him. After all it was his fault that Draco had dropped the secateurs; bloody distracting beautiful bastard. Potter's face blushed as he hastily turned his head away, and Draco cursed himself for finding it rather cute.

It was only once Draco had fled from the greenhouse—from Potter—and back the safety of his dormitory that Draco was able to think clearly about this new development without getting sidetracked by the urge to touch Potter's hair.

Draco just couldn't figure Potter out. Instead of getting angry at Draco for mocking his appearance, the wanker went and got a make-over. Potter had said 'thanks for the advice', but Draco had assumed he was just trying to be a smartarse. Since when, and more importantly why, was Potter suddenly taking Draco's advice?

Dear Diary

It's been over a week now and he hasn't once tried to pick a fight with me. Not since that day on the sixth floor, and not since I took the advice that he gave me. I'm not sure whether to be happy about that fact, or really worried. Does it mean he doesn't want to fight with me anyone? That would be nice, and maybe I could actually approach him and try to be... friends. Or does it mean he finds me even more disgusting than he did before? Did I wear the wrong clothes? Is my hair just a different kind of stupid? Will he just always hate me, no matter what I look like or how much I don't want to argue with him?

Not only do I not know what the hell is going on with him, but I now also have Hermione badgering me, trying to find out who it is I'm trying to impress. I should have known better than to ask her for fashion advice, but she's the only person I know with hair as bad as mine. She showed me how to use Sleekeazy's Hair Potion like she did for the Yule Ball, then happily accompanied me down to Gladrags in Hogsmeade. Of course I didn't actually tell her why I wanted my hair and clothes to look better, but she is Hermione; it took her all of five seconds to figure it out. The only thing she doesn't know is who it is. And I am not sharing that information with anyone but this diary.

Just the other day, during Herbology, I thought I could feel him watching me. It felt good, but I never actually caught him looking at me, so I think it might have just been wishful thinking. I will admit that I did check out his arse when he bent over to pick something off of the floor, and he totally spotted me staring! I was mortified. He just glared at me.

I wish he'd look at me, even just once, without some look of disdain. But I know it'll never happen. No matter how much crap I put in my hair. No matter how much money I spend on clothes. I don't even know why I bother. He'll never see me that way. He'll never care enough to look.

- HP

It was a couple of weeks before Draco was ready to begin another fight with Potter. This was in part due to the need to think up his next strategy plan, but largely it was in order to get over the shock of this new and improved Potter. Draco spent a lot of time in those two weeks secretly watching Potter, still perplexed as to his motives.

Draco was pleased to note that Potter did not always look as immaculate as he had that day in the greenhouse. More often than not his hair, though far more restrained than usual, would still have a wild look to it. Though Draco was adamantly denying it to himself, he found that look even more attractive than the perfect soft flick he had previously been sporting.

Though Potter's clothes remained fashionable and well fitted, they were almost always worn more casually. Shirts untucked, jackets unbuttoned and jeans riding far lower than was strictly necessary. Not that Draco was looking at Potter's jeans, hips or arse at all. Ever.

Potter's looks were not the only thing Draco had noticed during his observations of the man in those two weeks. He also noticed that although Potter had many friends from every house (including some Slytherins from the younger years, Draco was confused to note), he spent quite a lot of time alone. Usually in secluded areas inside the castle, or else out in the grounds, and always with his head in a book. Either reading textbooks for class, or with his head bent low scribbling in a notebook.

It was the latter that Draco found Potter doing one afternoon not far from the statue of the humpbacked witch on the third floor. Draco walked towards him slowly, still undecided on what method of attack to use on the irritatingly unirritable Gryffindor. It was only when Potter heard Draco's nearing footsteps, looked up to see who was approaching and hastily closed his notebook and rammed it urgently in his bag that Draco struck upon inspiration.

"Don't be shy, Potter, what is it you're writing?" asked Draco, almost sweetly.

"Nothing," murmured Potter, clutching tightly to his bag.

"That embarrassing, huh?" Draco cocked his head to the side in mock contemplation. "Are you writing your memoirs and finally realising what an obnoxious git you were for all those years?"

"No," said Potter simply, looking Draco in the eye with that calm of his that Draco had to believe was a façade. "No, I—" Potter cut himself off and looked away.

"You what, Potter?" Draco pushed, more than a little curious as to what Potter had almost let slip.

Potter simply shook his head and made a move to step away. Draco reached out and grasped Potter's arm which resulted in startled gasp, bordering on a squeal, from Potter. Worried that he had hurt Potter, Draco let go immediately. To cover up his unexpected concern, Draco fell back on taunts once again.

"You're always scrawling in that book of yours, what the hell are you writing about? All the boring day to day activities of a hero's wonderful life? Or is it a dream diary, to keep track of all the wet dreams you have about the Weaselette? Or maybe a step-by-step guide on how to defeat evil wizards, and you don't want me, the enemy, to get a look at how you managed it?" Draco was practically shaking by the time he'd finished.

Unnoticed during his vehement outburst, Draco had moved closer to Potter and was now mere inches away, glowering into the other boy's face.

"It doesn't matter," replied Potter quietly, looking down at the floor. "You wouldn't care." The last was barely a whisper, but Draco heard it all the same.

For some reason those three words angered Draco more than anything that had happened between him and Potter so far that year.

"Fuck you, Potter," Draco whispered back firmly before turning and walking away.

Dear Diary

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. He knows. Okay, well, he doesn't know, but he knows there's something to know. He confronted me about my diary. Said he's seen me writing in it a lot, and wanted to know what it was I was writing. He made a few stupid suggestions and tried to goad it out of me, but of course I didn't say anything. Bloody hell, can you imagine how that would go down? "Yes, I write about how gorgeous you are, about how much you always wanting to fight with me really upsets me, and about how I'm pretty damn sure I love you." He'd throw a fucking fit. And then kill me.

This is the only place I can talk about my feeling for him. My friends, they would never understand. They're just like everyone else; they think he's still an evil bastard. They don't see what I see and I doubt they ever will. I can't, and refuse, to ignore how I feel about him. I don't want to keep my emotions bottled up inside me, or hope that they go away. So I write about them here, and it helps. At least for a while.

I'll just have to be more discreet in future. Only write when I'm alone in the dorm, or outside in the grounds. No one's ever out there at the time of year, it's too cold.

So long as I keep writing it all down, and so long as he never finds out, then my feelings will be safe. I'll be safe.

He can't break my heart if he doesn't know he has it.

- HP

Other than pissing Draco off to an exuberant degree, for reasons he still wasn't sure of, his last encounter with Potter had led him to the realisation that he was dealing with a stubborn bastard of the nth degree. No slur on Potter himself, no matter how personal or hurtful, would get a rise out of the bastard. Potter could handle people insulting him and being cruel; he'd dealt with enough of it throughout his life. Throughout his time at Hogwarts, and in the years preceding, if the rumours Draco had heard were even half true. However Potter, ever the hero, would of course leap in to defend vicious slurs on his friends. Especially if those friends were not there to defend themselves.

Rather pleased with this new plan of attack, Draco found himself eager to seek out Potter and finally get into the fight he had been craving for months now. He once or twice had to stop to wonder why exactly he did want to fight with Potter so badly. It had seemed so obvious at the start of the year, so indisputably necessary, but Draco was now finding it hard to recall the reasons. He decided not to dwell on it, and forced himself into action.

Draco spent the better part of an hour walking through the castle, checking each and every nook and cranny he knew Potter would often haunt. His efforts did not yield any success; he failed to find Potter.

Giving up on the castle, Draco made his way through the large oak doors and out into the grounds. From previous weeks' Potter-watching, Draco knew where Potter was likely to be and wasted no time making his way towards the sloping lawns that bordered the lake.

Just as expected, Draco found Potter in a sheltered spot not far from the water's edge. He was sitting with his arms curled around his knees, probably to keep warm. Potter's head was tipped to the side, his cheek resting on one knee, looking out across the lake. He looked pensive and, Draco thought without care, beautiful. After pushing down another lurch of guilt and doubt about what he was about to do, Draco steeled himself and walked out across the lawn towards his prey.

"What is it this time?" asked Potter mildly without looking up. "My intelligence? My Quidditch skill? Or maybe my heritage?"

"Your friends," stated Draco firmly.

Potter's head slowly turned towards Draco and regarded him carefully.

"Your poor, pitiful, stupid, ginger excuse for a best friend and his stuck-up, know-it-all, bushy-haired Mudblood girlfriend." As Draco spoke he could see Potter clenching his fists and jaw muscles. Yes, he'd done it this time. He didn't even worry about the consequences he was so sure to incur as he continued. "That pathetic, love-stuck, stalker Weasley bint. The dumb, half-giant, piss-poor excuse for a gamekeeper oaf." Even as Potter got to his feet and rounded on Draco, Draco couldn't seem to stop. "The useless, bumbling, so-called wizard Longbottom fool. That utter nonsense talking girl from another bloody planet Lovegood nutter."

Draco took a breath with the intention of continuing, but stopped short as Potter came closer. He had a look of purest rage on his face, and Draco knew he had gone too far.

Before he could blink, Potter had fisted the robes under Draco's chin and hauled him near. Their faces were so close that Draco could feel, as well as see, Potter's misted breath on the cold air. For a spilt second Draco had the crazy notion that Potter was going to kiss him, and his heart skipped. Then Potter bared his teeth and spoke with such calm and controlled venom that Draco was sure the words themselves were a curse of some kind.

"Fuck you, Draco."

And with that Potter let go of Draco and shoved him backwards, then snatched up his bag and stormed off back towards the castle.

For a few seconds Draco simply stood there, unable to think or move. In the end it was the slow realisation that Potter had called him 'Draco' that had made him blink and stare after the retreating back of the man he had finally managed to anger.

Disappointment slowly crept its way through Draco. He had got what he wanted at last. Potter hated him with the passion Draco craved. So why wasn't he pleased?

Sighing to himself, Draco was about to begin his trek back to the castle when something caught his eye in the grass close to where Potter had been sitting. Taking two strides towards the lake, Draco bent over and picked up the book.

His eyes widened in surprise when he realised what it was. It was the notebook Potter had been writing in furiously since the start of the year. The one he had so adamantly not wanted Draco to know about.

Biting his lip in thought, Draco considered his options. Deciding it was likely impossible for him to anger Potter any more than he already had, he tucked the book under his arm and rushed back to castle.

Once alone and safely settled cross-legged on his bed in the Slytherin dormitory, Draco opened Potter's notebook. He was amazed, but unsurprised to find that it was a diary. There were dozens and dozens of entries, stretching back to the start of the school year.

Flicking idly through the journal, Draco noted a lot of boring notes about Potter's friends' love lives, rants about the amount of school work he had along with quite a few references to a boy Potter seemed to have a crush on. It wasn't until one of the very early entries that something caught Draco's eye: his own name.

I think I'm in love with Draco Malfoy. And I am so screwed.

Draco read and re-read that one line over and over until the words seemed to lose all meaning, then he skipped back to the other mentions of this mysterious 'he' that Potter kept mentioning and read more thoroughly.

The more Draco read, the more evidence he found that he wasn't able to refute. Harry Potter had a crush on him. Was in love with him, even. Draco flopped back on the bed beneath him and closed his eyes, going over all the new information he had just acquired.

Potter hadn't not been fighting Draco because he didn't think Draco was worth it; he'd been not fighting because he thought so much more of Draco. Potter had seen through his show of arrogance and haughty fearlessness. Despite Draco's continually aggression towards him, Potter knew that Draco wasn't the same person he was before the war. Potter could see all of that, and he loved him for it.

It was when Draco began going over his recent interactions with Potter; that lesson in the greenhouse when he couldn't take his eyes off of Potter, and how angry it had made him when Potter had accused him of not caring, that Draco realised what an idiot he'd been. Draco finally gave into the thoughts and emotions that had been on the edges of his mind, but had been trying to ignore. He finally admitted to himself that he had feelings for Potter, too.

Then Draco remembered their most recent meeting out by the lake, and Potter's icy stare and harsh voice. Draco rolled onto his side and covered his face with his hands. He had managed to completely fuck up any chance he had with Potter before he'd even realised he wanted one.

Suddenly sitting upright, Draco dragged Potter's diary and a quill towards him. All he'd done since his return to Hogwarts was fight with Potter, and he wasn't going to give up on him without one.

Harry was sat in his favourite window seat on the sixth floor, gazing out of the window down at the grounds. It was a pity his favourite window seat was south-facing, as it gave him a perfect view of the spot by the lake where he had argued with Draco the previous day. Where Draco had insulted his friends. Where Harry had man-handled Draco and told him to fuck off. Where he had left his diary...

Letting his head fall into his hands, Harry groaned at the memory. He had been so worked up after listening to Draco say those nasty things about the people closest to him that he had simply grabbed his bag and ran away, afraid of what he might do if he stayed any longer. As soon as he got back to his dorm and unpacked his bag he knew what he had done and he had raced back down to lake, but both the diary and Draco were gone.

And now Draco knew.

Harry expected the taunts to increase tenfold now, in both intensity and frequency. With Harry's diary Draco had an endless supply of ammunition to taunt and humiliate him with.

Sighing, Harry turned back to look out of the window, wondering if he could just stay here all day instead of going to his classes.

A small sound startled Harry and he turned to find the source. He found himself looking into the face of Draco Malfoy. Harry saw his diary in Draco's hand, but said nothing as he turned back to the window.

It was silent for a few moments before Draco spoke.

"I came to apologise." Draco's voice was quiet, but strong, and full of regret. "I said some terrible things. Not just yesterday, about your friends, but all those other times, about you."

There was a pause, but still Harry didn't look around.

"I also wanted to apologise for reading your diary."

Harry choked back a nervous whimper and kept quiet, determined not to let Draco see him upset.

"I... Well, I don't know what to say. I've likely buggered everything up."

Harry heard Draco step closer, and could see in his peripheral when Draco held up the diary for Harry to take.

"Here's your diary back. I can't take back the fact that I read it, or pretend I don't know the secrets you wrote in there. So I..." Draco paused and cleared his throat.

Intrigued now, Harry finally turned to look at Draco, who was looking down at the diary and biting his bottom lip.

"You what?" asked Harry quietly, speaking for the first time since Draco's arrival.

Instead of answering, Draco simply waved the diary at Harry, who took it from him without another word.

Harry frowned at Draco, who continued to motion with his hand towards the diary.

"Go on then," urged Draco.

Uncertain as to what to expect, Harry opened his diary and flicked through the pages. All of his entries seemed untouched. He looked back up at Draco who was biting his lip again, but nodded for Harry to carry on.

When Harry came to the last page with writing on, he was shocked to see that it wasn't his own. He read the page quickly, then shook his head and read it again.

Once he had finished he leapt to his feet, abandoning the diary on his vacated seat, and flung his arms around Draco, nuzzling his face into his neck and mumbling a 'thank you' into the skin there.

Draco's arms immediately came up and wrapped themselves around Harry and the two of them stood there by Harry's favourite window seat on the sixth floor, just holding each other.

Dear Potter's Diary

I am a complete and utter fool. I came back to Hogwarts wanting to make a change, grateful of the opportunity for a fresh start. Instead, I let the opinions and judgements of others rule me, and dictate who and what I should be. And worse than that, I scorned, belittled and hurt the one person who didn't hold a grudge against me. The one person who saw me for who I wanted to be, who I had promised myself I would try to be.

I thought if I fought with him, that my life would be normal again. Our animosity has been the one constant thing in my life since starting school. With so much hostility and change, I believed if I could get that constant back, that I would feel safer, stronger.

I was wrong.

After crossing a line, and doing some utterly unforgivable things, I came to a few harsh and surprising conclusions. The first of which was that I didn't want to fight him. As soon as all those horrible things had left my mouth, and I saw how furious he was, I regretted ever thinking I wanted him to hate me. Instead I hated myself, more than I ever have. More than when I tried to Crucio him in that bathroom. More than when I was pointing my wand at the one man who could've helped me at the top of the Astronomy Tower. More than when I sat before the Wizengamot, sure I would be sent to Azkaban and knowing I deserved it.

The second thing I realised was that I didn't hate him, either. I didn't want to hurt the only person who saw more than a Death Eater in me. This led swiftly on to the biggest and most important realisation of all. The real reason I had been picking fights with him all year, the real reason I was so angry and annoyed when he didn't react to my attacks. ...I wanted, I craved, his attention.

I think I'm in love with Harry Potter. And I am so screwed.

I just hope he can forgive me.

- DM

- End -