September 2nd, 1997, 2:02 A.M.
I'm sorry but I have to get this out and I don't care who the hell reads it anymore. My mother is dying. No, not Narcissa Malfoy, my step mum. Fiona Foresteen, my birth mother. She's dying and I didn't even know. She'll be dead in four days and I can't see her. It feels like somebody drove a knife through my heart. I can't even cry for her, not with Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy, not to mention Potter and Weasley and Granger, around. Nothing's right anymore. I'm supposed to kill Dumbledore but I can't do it. He's done so much for me. He was always there when my father tried to hit me, and know he invites me into his office almost everyday. Professor Snape keeps trying to help me, and a few times I was tempted to let him. I have to go, the last thing I need is exhaustion to add to my torture.
D.M.
Draco closed the book and put away his quill. He pulled the blankets over his shoulders and let himself slip into uneasy sleep.
Two hours later at four in the morning Draco woke up crying. In his dream he had been laying over his mother. She was stroking his hair exactly the right way and singing to him. But something happened, and she was dead.
He reached under his pillow for the journal. On the inside front cover was a picture of his beautiful mother. Her dirty blond curls brushed the face of the baby she held. Draco. Her green eyes glinted beutiful-ly as she sang softly to the baby. How the present time Draco wished he could hear her voice just one more time.
Something was pecking at the window. Very quietly, Draco stood up and opened it, a tawny owl flew in, carrying a parcel. He gave the owl two Knuts and it flew away, leaving the parcel.
Inside the parcel was a letter, it read:
Dear Mister Draco Malfoy,
We have been told to inform you that Fiona Foresteen wishes to have you at her bedside the next four days. Inclosed in the parcel is a portkey set to leave at 4:30 A.M. this morning.
St. Mungos Institute For Magical Mishaps and Maladays
The time was 4: 29. Draco grabbed the small key, felt the familliar jerk, and was at St. Mungos. Despite the time of day it was fairly busy. Infront of Draco stood a man with two large horns on his head, a woman holding a baby that breathed fire, and a man with three children, all of whom where sprouting feathers and clucking like chickens. The front desk lady directed all three people and finally it was Draco's turn.
"I'm here to see Fiona Foresteen." He said.
"Fiona Foresteen....level four, room 7b." The woman said dryly. Draco thanked the lady, then took the stairs to his mother's room. Room seven B was empty except for a pretty blond woman lying on the first bed. Her eyes where traced with stress lines and had heavy bags under them. Her skin was sickly looking and her green eyes looked glaxed. She smiled and looked up when Draco closed the door behind him.
"My baby." She said quietly as Draco sat in an armchair next to her. Her voice wasn't as easy-flowing as Draco remembered it, but it was still his mother's voice. Finally he succumbed and wrapped his arms around Fiona's neck.
"The Dark Lord, he wants me to kill Dumbledore." Draco whimpered into his mum's ear. She already knew he had tried to refuse the Dark Mark, that his father forced him into it. A few tears fell from his grey eyes. Fiona rubbed his back.
"I know baby, I know." She soothed. Suddenly Draco was very angry. How could she possibly know?
"No, you don't know. You can't possibly know what it's like tpo go through this, the constant pain, the expectations too high for you to reach, you don't know!" Draco yelled.
"Draco--"
"Shut UP!" Draco stormed out of the room, slamming the door.
OMG super lame cliffy alert! Now you must wait until I write more! I AM SO EVIL!