A Fictional Diary by: Els-chan

Disclaimer: I’m poor, and thus own NOTHING.

Warnings: M/M slash, non-descript rape, abuse

A/N: This can also be found at .com, for anyone who cares.

I’ve decided to start a diary, since Lord knows there isn’t much else to do while locked up in this bloody room.

On the upside, while I’m locked in here, I don’t have to deal with them.

On the downside, I have no way of getting my mail. It’s probably a good thing that I sent Hedwig to stay with Ron, then.

At least they haven’t started hitting me yet. They did it all last summer (Vernon was still angry about the Ton-Tongue Toffee), and I got the "privelige" of beginning my fifth year covered in bruises and scars.

Oh, joy.

At least I got plenty of use out of my concealment charms.

Damn, Vernon’s calling. Maybe I spoke too soon about the beatings.

"Coming, Uncle Vernon!"

Ugh, I’m going to be sick.

I just realized that I’m going to have an interesting time trying to write all my summer essays without ink and parchment. I managed to sneak my books up here yesterday (Vernon was complaining about my trunk making funny noises – it seems my sneakoscope doesn’t like him too much), but I’m out of ink and parchment altogether. I do have plenty of Dudley’s unused notebooks and pens, though – I wonder if the professors will accept an essay written on regular paper? Most of them probably will, once I explain the situation. Professor McGonagall might give me a lecture about it, though.

Snape’ll never take an essay written on notebook paper (especially not from me). Wonder how I’m going to write his, then.

Eh, I’ll figure something out.

I don’t get to stay with the Weasleys this summer at all – Uncle Vernon won’t allow it. He didn’t allow it last summer either – not that I’m surprised. Mr. Weasley is going to pick me up 31 August so that I can get my stuff at Diagon Alley, and then I’m going to stay at the Burrow overnight.

Just like last year.

Sometimes…no, most of the time, I hate being me.

I love Hermione. I’m going to ask her to marry me the moment I see her.

Well, okay, maybe that’s going too far.

Anyway, that brilliant, beautiful, wonderful, incredibly amazing girl called using the telephone. Somehow she managed to use some excuse to convince Vernon that she was a normal person, and so Vernon actually let me talk to her for a whole 10 minutes.

I’ve never used the telephone for more than 2 minutes before.

Anyway, she helped me with my parchment problem. Apparently, she knows a spell that will transfer whatever I write on the paper onto regular parchment. She said she’d help me with it on the train.

Did I mention I love that girl? I did? Well, I’m saying it again – I love that girl.

As a sister, mind. She’s like the sister I never had. Well, her and Ginny.

I wonder if Ginny is over her crush on Dean yet? Just idle thoughts – I’m not interested in her or anything like that.

Ugh. I hate Dudley. And Piers too. But mostly Dudley.

I was weeding Aunt Petunia’s garden (again), minding my own business, when the two of them come up from behind me and kick me in the back,

Hard.

I’m surprised my spine isn’t smashed.

Anyway, naturally, this sends me head-first into the daffodils (at least, I think they were daffodils). And naturally, that was the moment that Aunt Petunia came out to make sure I was still working, or "earning my keep" as she calls it. So, naturally, she saw the whole thing.

She sent Dudley and Piers into the house to have some chocolate cake before she reamed into me for crushing her beloved flowers. (A rare moment of sparing my dignity, for once).

Anyway, when Uncle Vernon got home and she told him about it, he got really mad and decided to "teach the freak a lesson".

It wasn’t pleasant. I think my ankle might be broken.

Yep,my ankle is definitely broken. This will certainly make doing my chores significantly more difficult.

Sometimes I really wish I weren’t me.

Anyway, started my Potions essay. I decided to do a write-up on the Wolfsbane potion - just to be irritating, of course. Actually, I'm really glad that I got all the information I did before I left school, or else I would really have been in trouble, especially since even when you DO have access to sources, it's still hard to find information on it. Anyway, the real reason I'm doing it on the Wolfsbane potion is because it might come in handy, and maybe it'll help me help Professor Lupin (it's still kind of hard to think of him as 'Remus'). Well, being a show-off doesn't hurt, either. Better make it good, though, so the git can't complain.

Oh, who am I kidding? This is Professor Snape we’re talking about – of course he’ll find something wrong with my essay, no matter how good it is. Honestly, what the hell does it take to impress that man?

Oh, right. Being a Malfoy. How silly of me to forget.

Argh, der fuhrer is calling. Better hurry up.

Ugh, burned my hand today cooking breakfast when Dudley pushed me into the stove.

Oh, how I hate my cousin.

At least I finished most of my Potions essay. Just to be obnoxious, when I listed the ingredients, I put:

"wolfsbane (also known as monkshood or aconite – something that every young wizard should know from the womb)"

Methinks I’m going to get an ‘F’ on that paper. That, of course, is assuming I survive the Awesome Wrath of Snape. It’ll be worth it, though. At least now he can’t say that I never learned anything in his class. So ha, and again, ha. Now who has the last laugh?

…Probably Snape. But such is life.

Anyway, as I’ve mentioned, my ankle is broken. It’s swollen up quite nastily, and it’s a regular myriad of colors. It hurts whenever I…hell, it hurts all the time. Even right now, and I’m not even doing anything.

Not that the Dursleys care, of course. Although Aunt Petunia was nice enough to let me ice it once my chores were finished. Must be those maternal instincts or whatnot that I keep hearing about.

It was rainy today, so Uncle Vernon felt that it was the perfect time to have me go and clean out the gutters.

Yes, it’s always fun moving about on a slippery roof in a rainstorm, clearing miscellaneous dead things out of the gutters, and with a broken ankle, no less. Ah, how refreshing that was.

At least I didn’t fall off this time. I don’t think der fuhrer would be too keen on driving me to the hospital in a rainstorm while I get blood all over the interior of his car. He’d probably just call me clumsy then lock me in my room. Yes, that sounds about right.

Can’t you just feel the love?

Of course, I got yelled at by Aunt Petunia the moment I came back in the house for being soaking wet and dripping all over the floor. I suppose she thought my ‘freakishness’ would make me impervious to rain.

Well, that’s an interesting theory.

I’m sick. It’s not fun. I’ve been confined to my room until I stop throwing up. Heaven forbid "precious Dudders" be exposed to my freak germs.

Of course, it never seemed to occur to them that perhaps the reason I threw up in the first place was because "precious Dudders" elbowed me right in the stomach.

Hard.

And here I would have thought all that blubber would have acted as padding.

Ugh. I hate my life.

Well, my ankle seems to be in even worse condition than it was when I first broke it. It’s EXTREMELY painful.

I wonder how I’ll explain that to the Weasleys?

Oh, well, maybe if I’m really lucky, it’ll heal itself by then. Or turn gangrenous and fall off.

Hey, whatever works. I’m not picky. It’ll just be a bit of an inconvenience when I need to make my annual flight-from-death, is all.

Yes, I realize that ‘Vol de Mort’ means ‘flight from death’ and no, I didn’t mean for it to be a pun when I was writing yesterday. It was pure coincidence, I tell you. I’m not witty enough to come up with puns, even ones as spectacularly pitiful as that one.

Anyway, I had a most…interesting dream last night.

For once, it didn’t involve Cedric, my parents, or all-things-Voldemort.

It did, however, involve the snarky bastard that they call a Potions master. Surprisingly enough, it didn’t involve hexes, cusres, or Avada Kedavras.

Horrifyingly enough, it was a wet dream.

Someone up there really likes to play with me (and in more ways than one, it would seem). Yes, that’s me – "Harry Potter: Boy Who Lived (God, I hate that…) and Official Punching Bag of the Gods".

What’s next? Am I going to develop an unrequited love for Voldemort himself?

…I think I just jinxed myself.

I wonder if Malfoy would be willing to sacrifice his looks to become an evil overlord?

...Nah. He's too vain.

Anyway, my ankle doesn't seem to be getting any better. I still have to do my chores, though.

Oh, well, I suppose I should be grateful. The Dursleys didn't have to take me in - they could have just sent me to an orphanage or left me on another doorstep or something when I was a baby. (I'd rather not think about what the 'or something' could be, thanks.)

Well, Vernon is calling. Wonder what he wants me to do now.

My life is a living hell. All the sarcasm and witticisms in the world couldn’t possibly help things.

I lost my virginity last night to der fuhrer. Against my will, of course.

The bastard came home completely pissed – I was surprised he was still able to stand. Aunt Petunia was at some friend’s baby shower and Dudley was spending the night at a friend’s house. And so, I was left alone in the house with a very drunk Vernon Dursley.

Apparently, he’d gotten it into his head that he could fuck the magic (or "freakishness") out of me.

That’s why he called for me last night.

It hurt like hell. Not so much emotionally since I know that none of the Dursleys would give a damn if I lived or died (they’d probably prefer the latter). It hurt because that wasn’t the way I’d wanted to lose it, and that SURE AS HELL wasn’t who I wanted to lose it to. The physical pain wasn’t too pleasant either – I felt like I was being torn in half. The blood just added to the effect.

Afterward, Vernon passed out in a drunken stupor. I don’t think he even remembers what he did – or maybe he just doesn’t care.

I don’t think I’ve ever cried so hard or thrown up so much in my life. Hell, I’m not even 16 yet! What else could possibly go wrong with my life? I have an evil overlord after me, I already have blood on my hands, my godfather is on the run from the ministry, I’m constantly plagued by nightmares filled with the death of my parents and everything that happened in the third task (and after), my family loathes me almost as much as Professor Snape does (if not more), everyone expects me to be the savior of the wizarding world because of something I didn’t even do when I was ONE, and now this (not to mention that my ankle is still very much broken and has become more swollen than Malfoy’s head).

I know I’ve said this before, but dammit, it warrants repeating.

I. Hate. My. Life.

Maybe I should just let Voldemort kill me the next time we meet. He can put me out of my misery.

And no, that wasn’t even close to being a joke.

I still hate my life. And my ankle is still broken. I imagine that the only thing keeping it from becoming gangrenous is the magic in my system. It’s the only theory I can think of anyway, since I’m pretty sure that when a broken ankle is left untreated for this long, it becomes infected.

Oh, well. If I die, I die. If not, then I’ll just wait until I do.

Happy birthday to me. I’m 16. Yay.

Had a nightmare about Vernon raping me again last night. It never fails to make me wake up crying and then throwing up. I’m actually starting to miss the Voldemort dreams.

One more month. Just one more month until I’m out of this hellhole…well, for the duration of the school year, anyway.

I’m debating whether or not I should tell anyone what Vernon did to me. It just wouldn’t do if Harry Potter couldn’t even stop one fat idiot from…I don’t even want to write the word anymore. All I would get from that is pity. I HATE PITY. Pity is the last thing I need.

I guess that means I won’t be telling anyone then. Besides, everyone would be so disgusted with me once they found out. It’s probably better this way. For many reasons.

Enough. It’s 2 am. I don’t know why I bothered to wait up – I specifically told everyone not to send me anything as Vernon would go into conniptions. I’m going to sleep.

I just I wish I had some of that Dreamless Sleep Potion to stave off the nightmares.

I think my sanity is starting to slip away from me. I don’t know how much longer I can stand to be here. I feel trapped, and I desperately need to get out.

I miss Ron and Hermione. And Sirius. I really miss Sirius. And Remus. I hope he’s doing well.

I hate it here. I still don’t understand why Professor Dumbledore insists that I come back here every summer. Even Potions class would be preferable over this nightmare, especially if you take in the more recent…events.

Damn it all. My ankle hurts like hell. I’m coming dangerously close to just amputating it myself.

Well, it obviously won’t be healed by the time Mr. Weasley comes to pick me up. I’ll have to come up with a good excuse then. Or maybe I could hide it, then pretend to get hurt later. If all else fails, there’s always the good old "oh, I fell on it a little while ago, but I didn’t think it was very serious so I didn’t tell anyone". No one ever bothers to dispute that one.

Anyway, I have to go. Aunt Petunia wants me to scrub every inch of the kitchen before I can get to sleep tonight.

I really hate my life.

Well, I’ve been in quite the morbid state of mind lately. I keep thinking about what could happen the next time I meet Voldemort. What if I die? Maybe I should write my will while I have the chance. But I think there’s supposed to be a specific process to will-writing, and I don’t know what that is. Maybe I should ask Hermione.

Then again, that would just make her worried and upset. And I can’t ask Professor Dumbledore because he would just tell me I don’t need to since I’m not going to die. Then he would ask if I wanted a lemon drop. So who could I possibly ask about this who could see my reasoning behind it without being bothered by the thought of my death?

…

Of course. Snape. I wonder why I didn’t think of that sooner. Oh, wait, I think I know why – because there is no way in hell that he’d ever agree to help me with anything. How silly of me to forget.

Oh, well. All I can do is ask him. I’m pretty sure that the worst he can do is refuse me while making me feel like the scum of the earth.

Not that that’s anything new.

Almost there. I just have to keep reminding myself that I’m almost there. Just a few more weeks, and then I get to go home to Hogwarts. I wish time would speed up already.

Anyway. Went about my chores (as usual) while Dudley did nothing (as usual). I think I’ve finally gotten used to walking on a broken ankle. If I perfect it, then maybe no one will even notice that anything is wrong with it until I go back to school. At least then I could say that it happened at the station or on the train or something. No one needs to know the truth.

I hope Hedwig is all right. I’m sure Ron is taking very good care of her, but I still miss her. She really is the best listener in the world, and she never judges me about anything.

I really miss her.

But the further away from the Dursleys she is, the safer she’ll be. Vernon’s already threatened to kill her more than once. I don’t think that I could bear that.

I still hate being me. Just a reminder.

Just a few more days now. I think I’ve figured out a way to bandage my ankle that’ll hide the swelling and bruising. If anyone asks, I’ll just say that I sprained it. Or something.

Tomorrow morning Mr. Weasley comes to pick me up. Very happy about that. It’ll be nice to finally see everyone again. And soon after that, I’ll be back at Hogwarts. Can’t ask for much more than that.

I’ve decided that I’ll still write in this occasionally during the school year. Y’know, just to get some things out of my system.

Anyway, Hermione helped me with the spell for my essays, and it worked beautifully. I’ll say it again – I love that girl.

As for the ankle…well, that didn’t go over quite as well. Madam Pomfrey saw right through my lie – apparently, it was more damaged than I’d thought. When she asked what really happened, I lied and said I’d gotten into a street fight and since I didn’t want my aunt and uncle to know I’d been fighting, I hid it from them. I don’t think she really believed me, but she didn’t press the issue.

And so I spent my first night back at Hogwarts in the hospital wing. Sometimes I wonder if it wouldn’t be more convenient to just move me down there permanently. I’m certainly in there enough.

At least the benefit of staying in the hospital wing is that Madam Pomfrey always gives me Dreamless Sleep (mostly because she doesn’t want me to wake up screaming and disturbing her other patients). Dreamless Sleep Potion is the nectar of the gods, I tell you, and nothing you do or say will ever convince me otherwise.

Well, I’d better get to sleep. I have Potions first thing tomorrow, and I want to be bright and chipper when I turn in my wonderful essay to Snape. Oh, what I wouldn’t pay to be there when he grades it…actually, it’s probably better that I won’t be there, because if I were he’d probably just hex me into next Tuesday.

Anyway. Goodnight.

I got an ‘A’! I don’t believe it…Professor Snape actually gave me an ‘A’. I think it pained him to do so, though, because it looked like he’d been shaking when he wrote it, and his script is usually very neat. It didn’t stop the scathing remarks (mostly about the ‘wolfsbane – monkshood – aconite’ comment I made), of course. But who the hell cares? I got an ‘A’ on a Potions essay! I’ve managed the impossible! I may end up going down in history for this! Well, Professor, to you I say, ha! and again, ha! I finally got one up on him. Though I can’t help but wonder how long that’ll last – probably not very. But what was really weird about the whole thing was that he wrote (again, in that shaky handwriting) that he was mildly shocked that I wasn’t a total ignoramus. I’m pretty sure that was the closest thing I’ll ever get to a compliment from him.

Ah, well. Might as well enjoy it while it lasts, right?

I finally worked up the courage today to go and ask Professor Snape about the whole will-writing thing. He got a strange look on his face when I asked him, one I’d never seen before. I’m not really sure what that look was trying to express, but I really hope it wasn’t pity. I don’t think I could deal with that, especially from him.

Anyway, much to my surprise, he actually agreed to show me the basic layout. So now I just have to write it up and then get a witness to sign it. I asked him if he would, since I didn’t want anyone else to know that I was writing out my will already, and he got that look on his face again. I really want to know what that look is supposed to mean. It’s really starting to bug me. Anyway, he said that it should be someone reputable, not an ex-Death Eater who many people still believed to be working for the Dark Lord (even though Voldemort already figured out that Snape was spying for Dumbledore and nearly killed him). I was going to argue the point, but he just gave me a glare that told me not to pursue it. So I left it alone. For now.

Just for that though, I’m putting Snape in my will. So there. Ha.

…

Right. So now I just have to find a witness to sign it. Maybe I can ask the headmaster to sign it for me. It might be easier to convince him once the whole thing is written up anyway.

Bloody hell! Damn Draco Malfoy! Damn him to hell! The bastard somehow got his hands on this diary of mine! AND THEN HE SHOWED IT TO SNAPE!

I knew it was a bad idea to take this with me! I knew I should have just put it back in the dorm before Potions! But nooo, I was too busy going over my old entries out by the lake to notice the time! STUPID, STUPID, STUPID!!! Snape gave me a detention for bringing 'muggle rubbish' into his classroom. He said I could collect it from him then.

I think he read it, too. I just have this horrible feeling that he read it, because he kept giving me that weird look the whole time I was serving detention and he didn't make one nasty coment the whole time. Not. One. Single. Comment.

Hell. Maybe he just read the first entry, or just the entry about my will. Maybe he didn't read the rest of it. Oh, could I be so lucky? Oh, pleeease, don't let him have read it...

I should have known better than to think that I would be so lucky. He definitely read it. There is no doubt in my mind about it now.

He pulled me aside at breakfast this morning and told me he wanted to see me in his office immediately after dinner. I agreed, of course - what else could I do?

Well, all I can do now is hope that he doesn't tell anyone about what he read. Oh, and that he missed the part about the wet dream - how humiliating. Yeah, right, what are the chances of that happening? By tomorrow, the whole school will probably know about everything.

I. Hate. My. Life.

Well, at least Ron and Hermione haven't abandoned me yet. You know, it's sweet how even though they're "together", they still try to include me in everthing. Hell, they usually force me to join them, kicking and screaming.

I'm just trying to give them their privacy so that they can go and do all the stuff that couples do.

I adore my best friends. I don't know what I would do without them.

Severus Snape has to be the most confusing man on the planet. I seriously wonder about his mental health sometimes. Really, what goes on in that head of his?

I went down to his office last night, just like I was supposed to, and all he did for the first few minutes was stare at me.

Not even glare. Just staring at me with that weird look again. And he didn't say one word.

So I asked him why he called me down to see him. He raised his eyebrow at me and said he thinks I know why.

Honestly, that man can be so infuriating sometimes. Well, okay, most of the time.

Anyway, I asked if it was about my diary, did he read it? He said that he'd turned to the first page to see what it was, but after reading the first entry he felt obligated to read the rest. That got me mad because I though he was being a sarcastic sod again. He explained that since the first entry mentioned abuse, he really was obligated to read the rest.

In other words, he read the whole thing.

Dammit.

He asked me why I never told anyone what was going on, so I told him the truth. Everyone expects me to live a perfect life, defeat Voldemort, etc. They don't want to hear that that isn't how it is. And even if they did find out, what would that have accomplished? All I would have gotten was pity, and I'd be homeless since Sirius is still on the run. He said I still should have told someone. I asked him if he was going to tell the headmaster. He didn't answer.

I have a funny feeling that means 'yes'.

It's been about a week since Snape called me down to his office, and nothing has happened. I'm starting to htink that he didn't tell the headmaster. If he had, I probably would have heard something by now, right?

...Maybe I should go and talk to him.

Meanwhile, Quidditch is going great this season. Despite the fact that we had to replace a vast majority of the team over the last two years, we're still undefeated. In fact, we pummeled Slytherin the last match, 210-20. The look on Malfoy's face was priceless when he realized the snitch had been hovering only a few feet above his head when I caught it, and he'd never even noticed that it was there. Then again, I'm surprised he's still on the team and all. His father had been buying Draco's way onto the team every year with new equipment, but this year he didn't. I guess Slytherin is just really hard-up for Quidditch players this year. I almost feel bad for them.

Almost.

The rivalry between myself and Malfoy has reached new heights, especially now that I'm captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. It's a shame that Malfoy can't see that's all it is - a rivalry. The way he acts, you'd think we were arch-enemies.

Sorry, Malfoy, but that position's already been filled by a guy going by the name of 'Lord Voldemort'. Ever hear of him?

Anyway. Ginny is one hell of a Chaser. I'm really glad she's on our team - she's one of the top scorers. Who would ever have guessed?

Hermione is still as studious as ever - she's already trying to get Ron and me to study for our NEWTs. Honestly, they're not until 7th year. 6th year just started, and she wants us to start studying already? ...Wow, I'm starting to sound like Ron. Weird.

Anyway, I have Charms homework that I have to finish, and then I'll go see if I can track down Snape and find out what he plans to do with what he read in my diary. Actually, maybe I should do that first, since it's getting kind of close to curfew...

Well, Snape hasn't told Dumbledore...yet. He said he's going to give me the opportunity to go to him first, but if I don't do it by winter hols, he will. I'm debating whether or not to just let Snape tell him. At least then I won't have to be there. But on the other hand, I won't be able to control just how much Snape tells him.

Oh, what to do, what to do?

I know! I'll go see Dumbledore on the pretense of asking him to sign my will, and then just sort of let slip the fact that I hate going back to the Dursleys' because they treat me worse than a house elf. That's just enough information so that I've fulfilled Snape's request without actually lying.

Well, I'm glad that's settled.

Got a letter from Padfoot today. He and Moony are doing well. Moony's running low on his supply of "medicine" though, so he had to owl Snape and ask for more.

Poor Moony. I hope Padfoot keeps him company during his more "difficult" days (or nights...). I hope I get to see them again soon.

Oh, well, it's off to bed with me.

Wet dream - my first in months, ever since Vernon... Anyway, three guesses as to who the star was.

No, it wasn't Moony.

It wasn't Padfoot, either (I think that might actually be rather weird, considering...).

It was Snape. Again. The man is a plague, I tell you. Someone out there must find this very amusing, as I really can't even begin to imagine why as I would be having wet dreams about bloody Snape.

Bloody incredible ones, at that.

Well, it's still much better than the nightmares, Vernon- or Voldemorr-related. And at least now I know that my libido wasn't completely destroyed by Dursley, even if the only time it comes out to play is in my sleep. When I'm dreaming of Snape.

Snape, of all people. What the hell is that about?

I mean, I'm not even gay.

At least, I don't think I am...

Finally went to see Dumbledore about my will. He seemed awfully troubled that I had already written one, but he signed it nonetheless. He did ask why I didn't include the Dursleys in it, though. I told him that the way they treated me didn't warrant them a place in my will. He asked what I meant by that, and I said that I'd rather not talk about it, as I'd already gone through this with Snape when the git read my diary after confiscating it. I said he could talk to him if he really wanted to know. Then I left.

I don't know why I'm having so much trouble telling the headmaster about this - if anything, I would have thought he'd be the first person I'd reveal this information to.

Then again, I'd never actually intended for Snape to find out in the first place - it was supposed to be kept secret from everyone.

Damn it all. Why can't I ever have a secret that is mine and mine alone around here?! It seems like every time I try to keep something humiliating from people, the whole bloody world finds out about it.

It's not fair, and I hate it.

Why can't I just be normal?

I was called to the headmaster's office today. He said to bring my diary with me, so I did. It'd be easier if he just read it anyway. Then I wouldn't have to actually say anything.

When I got there, Snape was there, too. That's when I remembered that I'd written about my "dreams" in here too.

Sometimes I really hate my life.

Oh, but it gets better. After Dumbledore read it, he didn't pass it back to me - oh, no.

He gave the bloody thing to Snape. Said he wanted him to look over the entries to make sure nothing was missing.

What is everyone's obsession with making sure the greasy git gets his paws on my diary?

And of course, the git moved backwards through the diary, starting with the newest entries - i.e. the ones he hadn't read in the first place.

I'm pretty sure I saw him blush at one point - probably the wet dreams entry. Serves the git right for sticking his oversized nose into other people's business.

Honestly, what the hell is the point of keeping a diary if people are just going to read it every few weeks?!

Damn it all.

And then when I asked why he felt the need to read the newer entries, he muttered something about making sure I wasn't turning suicidal.

Bullocks. He's just a nosy git. At least he didn't say anything about any of the entries, so some of my dignity (though very little) was spared. I think if he'd actually said something about the wet dreams, I would have seriously hurt him.

At least Dumbledore chastised him for looking past what he needed to.

But on the bright side, arrangements are going to be made for me to stay somewhere else during the summer holds, and he said he was going to punish the Dursleys for mistreating me.

I wonder where I'm going to stay during the summer, if not at the Dursleys'?

Oh, well. That's quite some time from now, so there's really no point in worrying about that for the time being.

Oh, yeah. I'm gay. I definitely fancy blokes. Got a stiffie kissing Seamus on a dare. Didn't get one when I kissed Lavender. Or Parvati. Or Hermione. Nope, I'm definitely gay. Why do these things always seem to happen to me? Why can't I just have one normal trait, for once? Even my sexuality is different! WHY CAN'T I BE BLOODY NORMAL?! At least my robes covered it, so no one knows. That's a good thing - I've heard stories from Dudley about how gay people are treated at his school. I don't want to go through that, thanks very much. Although I have heard stories about Fred and George...maybe I should ask Ron if they're true?...Maybe not. He might ask why I want to know, and I don't know if I'm ready to tell him yet. Or anyone else, for that matter. Well, maybe Sirius. I might be able to ask him about it...he *is* my godfater, after all. I mean, he wouldn't suddenly hate me for being gay, would he?...I don't know. I have to think about this.

Methinks I need to get laid. That's what it is. That's why I keep having those bizarre dreams. Because I sure as hell am not attracted to Snape. Not possible, I tell you.

Wrote to Snuffles today. I decided to let him know that I'm gay. I was, however, smart enough to leave out the parts about the wet dreams. I saved that for my letter to Remus. He's always been very understanding...hopefully he won't kill me...or show Sirius, for that matter. I'd hate to think how Sirius would react if he knew I was having wet dreams about his worst enemy.

I don't think he would be too happy about it, personally.

Ron keeps on asking me what's wrong, and why I keep acting funny in Potions. Like I'm going to tell him the truth. I said something about being paranoid, and he seems to have bought it. Hermione, however, seems suspicious...must watch out for her.

Anyway, Quidditch is good. We're undefeated! Go Gryffindor. Wood would be so proud.