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March 2007

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I hate Snape. I hate Dumbledore. I hate father. I hate the Death Eaters.
From the same source I have not taken I need sleep. I haven't slept decently in so long and it's killing me. My sorrow; I could not awaken They won't let me sleep. Every couple of hours I have to take another potion and I don't think I can do it anymore. My heart to joy at the same tone; Last night I slept for about two hours and I dreamed of the Manor and mother the whole time. And all I loved, I loved alone. I dreamed about stuff I had forgotten, like how on the third floor in the West Wing, there is a secret alcove where I used to hide when Grandma came to visit. She used to pinch my cheeks so hard they'd bruise and then she'd laugh and laugh and it was horrible. Mother adored her, father hated her and she frightened me. I usually got in trouble for hiding from her. Father would always be livid. I think he was always jealous because I could hide, but he was too big to fit into that alcove. All are needed by each one; I afraid for Snape. Nothing is fair or good alone.He's taking such good care of me, but he can't go back to the Dark Lord. He says that if he goes back, he'll be forced to bring me with him. I'm not sure how to take this. Uncle Sev has always been one of the Dark Lord's biggest supporters. He and father used to spend hours talking about how grand everything was going to be after their Lord defeated Dumbledore and his pathetic army. Now...now he's throwing it all away for me. But amid my broken slumbers I know whose taken the mark at school. It's obvious. Still I heard those magic numbers, I think Dumbledore probably knows too. As they loud proclaimed the flight Uncle Sev hasn't told the old man anything, I'm sure of it. But they are the reason he's taken me out of school. And stolen marches of the night; And hidden me here.

I'm glad there is only one way in and out of this place. I'm glad it's locked to me. But why do I keep trying to escape? The urge is a getting stronger and soon I won't be able to stop it. Now I know how a canary feels; trapped in a gilded cage. Only problem is, I have no one to sing too. How awful is that?

[occ: experts from ; Alone by E.A. Poe; Each and All by R.W. Emerson; Carillion by H.W. Longfellow. ]

[occ:I took of the ability to comment. This is just Draco ranting and most of his posts will be the same. Sorry folks.]