Chapter 5
Nobody's Human

xHarryxPotterx: We'll just have to find out, won't we:)

LadyAlmondStar: Hi LadyAlmondStar/ele! V. cute names either way, I think. Nice to know you liked the diary entry…so did I, even though it even confused ME when I wrote it…

DCoD: Very Slytherin, but so very Draco, in my opinion. Underneath his er,--clothes--, exterior, I always pictured Draco as the type of guy who prided even the littlest things he did himself—seeing as his life was handed over to him on a silver platter, of course.

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"Don't you ever imagine it, Draco? What would have happened had we not been this way? In a war, I mean."

"Really? No. I'd always felt that somehow—the two sides wouldn't be able to live together. Your side would always have your "righteous" views, and mine would always strive for the purification of the human race."

"But you don't think that any more, do you Draco?"


"Think that only purebloods are human? And that the rest of us are all—mistakes?"

"It doesn't matter what I think Hermione—and what I do think is of no consequence to you. Regardless of what everyone else believes—you are as good as Pureblood. You are mine." He tried to soothe her, rubbing her shoulders, but she stiffened, and started muttering under her breath.

He didn't like it when he made mistakes—Hermione tensed and seemed distant with him, even though she still smiled at him, still made love to him.

She wasn't his Hermione when she was like that. Cold and distant—but still doing her job as his

Draco sighed then, and pressed his lips to the hollow of her neck.

"I messed up again, didn't I, Hermione?"

"You'll always be a pureblood Draco, you can't change that. I just have to ask…"


"Do you not think I'm human?"

Draco hesitated and Hermione sighed.

"You can't change who you are Draco, and you shouldn't bother to try. I'll survive, somehow. It's time I learned to accept my place."

She wasn't crying, but Draco could hear age-old tears amongst her voice.

" I love you, Hermione," he said, half-heartedly.

"It's alright. You don't have to lie." She smiled and stood up slowly, allowing his arms to fall from around her. She left, and Draco felt immediately saddened.

How could he explain that he didn't believe in human anymore? Because if Hermione wasn't human—what was? Hermione made his blood boil, his flesh curdle. And he loved her for it. If she wasn't human—who was human? His father, certainly not. Harry Potter—even less. Voldemort—the furthest from the concept at all. His father had always firmly believed that Mudbloods were lower than dirt—lower than anything. Hermione had challenged his views of the world—and it was ripping him apart.

She wasn't human.

He wasn't human.

Human was nothing, and nothing was everything.

-- --

"Shit on toast." Draco gasped loudly, his hand flying to cover his mouth. "Holy Mother of Jesus Fucking Christ," he said into his hands.

Potter smiled thinly and gestured expansively to the surroundings.

"This is the Golden Trio library. As you can see, there are the books devoted to all subjects Harry, there Ron, and finally we have Hermione." The library was bigger than all the books that had ever concerned the Malfoy history, Draco thought.

There were perhaps enough books in there to burn a pyre for all the deceased in the many wars, Draco's mind said uncharitably.

"What the shitting fuck do you need all this for?" Draco asked, his tone hoarse with the surprise of seeing all those books.

"Watch your language, Malfoy. This is Hermione territory," Potter warned, and with his oh-so-special wandless magic he shut the innocuously tiny door behind them. "We might find something to help us, here. Hermione was very gifted in terms of the Occultus Lacuna. Ever since Ginny's possession by Voldemort—as a result of your father's foolishness, I might add—"

Draco rolled his eyes. Potter never missed an opportunity to insult Draco's parents.

"He's dead, Potter. Can't you accept these things for what they are?" Potter, always the socially acceptable do-gooder sobered immediately, and launched back into his speech.

"As I was saying, ever since Ginny's possession—she has thrown herself into the fineries of Occultus Lacuna and it is quite easy to imagine that she might've employed it into a diary of her own—"

"Forgive me Potter, but I am not as well-versed in the language of Spanish—"

"It's Latin, Malfoy."

"—or whatever the hell kind of language you just spoke in. So shine a little light on the ex-Death Eater's limited intelligence, will you?"

"The Occultus Lacuna is Latin for "Secret Words". It is used to describe hidden messages ingrained into everyday objects—"

"But wasn't Voldemort's diary a prime example of the Servo Libri, or talking book?"

"Keep up, Malfoy. Riddle's diary was nothing short of a horcrux. Servo Libri aren't interactive. Don't be daft." Draco felt his blood beginning to boil, and had he been thirty years (give or take a decade) younger, he might've taken it onto himself to knock Potter's overgrown block off.

However, due to his damn good judgement (and rather arthritic limbs) he chose to keep his hands by his cane, and concentrated instead on glaring daggers into Potter's forehead.

Potter rolled his dull, glass-green eyes and gestured once more to the expanse of the library ahead of him.

"Exceedingly dull and hideous ferrets aside, this, or rather, most of this, is Hermione's. That means that books pertaining to the topics we are concerned with will be amongst these books. We've got a long way to go, Malfoy. You'd better start looking."

Draco looked at the mass of shelves and sighed dramatically.

"You are so foolish, Potter. You think like such a muggle! Have you not realised that we have wands?"

"What are you—oh. Right." Without so much as a thank you (which Draco really hadn't been expecting) Potter drew his wand and whispered a spell. Immediately, all books pertaining to the Occultus Lacuna spread themselves in front of the pair. Draco sighed, although it was in weariness this time. There had to have been over a hundred volumes piled above the pair's heads.

"Start looking, Malfoy. But please—hurry up. I haven't got all day."

Draco stared skyward, seeking some strength from the cathedral-like ceiling.

"If I get out of today alive, Granger, I'll read a goddamned book everyday. With Potter. Over a blasted muggle phone. At midnight." Draco promised silently, crossing his fingers behind his back. Some things would never change.

-- --

Dear Diary,

Help. They are going to find out.


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a/n: Chapter Five was here! So…hate it? Love it? Tell me in a well-constructed review, or "omg I less than 3ed" your story works too.