The Extremely Secret Secrets of a Malfoy

Dear diary,

Day 18. Though it hasn't really been limbo today.

I went to the tree, and guess what, she was there. I swung up onto the branch she was sitting on, facing her. She shoved me away.

"Listen, I don't really want to be anywhere near you, okay? You are all wrong and I shouldn't let you use me and its disgusting the way you treat other people as if they are lower than you and it just isn't right. My parents think I should stay away from you and I think they are right. Get lost."

"Um, I appreciate your opinions and I respect your decision, but this is my tree, so..."

"Fine." She swung onto the neighbouring branch and I felt irritated - I didn't really want her to go. But she looked round and blinked.

"Do you really respect my decision, or were you just saying that?"

"I can't make you stay." I can't. It's illegal.

"Oh." She looked slightly surprised.

"Hang on, don't go, you can stay in the tree if you want."

"Okay." There was silence as she stared at a leaf and I stared at my name on the wood, lost in thought. The company was nice, and she was nice, too nice, really. Full of all those righteous ideals. Stupid. A bit Gryffindorish. No, a lot Gryffindorish. But I would have quite liked her to talk about them. She was pretty smart.

"What's your school like?" I asked.

"Oh, okay, it's quite nice. It's called 'the castle', but its more of a palace. Actually - it's beautiful. It's full of marble statues and polished floors, and candelabras and the ceilings are beautiful, gold borders with clouds and angels and cupids painted in the gaps, and the grounds are lovely too, full of silver and gold statues and fountains, and borders and trellises and..."

She went on about her school, seeming really enthused about it, and I reflected that it was quite enjoyable to listen to her.

"But the Quidditch pitch isn't a full size one, which is disgusting, really..."

"The Quidditch pitch isn't full size? That's mad!"

"Do you like Quidditch?"

"Are you insane? Who doesn't?"

"I'm on my dorm's team."

"Me too, I'm Slytherin Seeker."

"I'm a Seeker! Not a great one, I mean..."

"I've got a set of Quidditch balls, go and get your broom and I'll fetch them. I haven't had any practice this holiday."

"Me neither. See you!" She ran off, and I fetched the balls. I met her at the tree again, her clutching a broom that was obviously French, since I didn't recognise it. She spotted me looking at it.

"It's an Allumer de Nuit, which means light up the night. Weird name, but it sounds better in French. It cost a small fortune; it's a good broom. Not widely produced - a one off. There aren't many of them."

"How much?"

"Three hundred galleons."

"That is a lot." Not a huge fortune, but quite enough to spend on a broom.

"Where can we play? What if we lose the snitch?"

"I'll show you. I went on at my dad for a Quidditch pitch."

"You have a Quidditch pitch?"

"Yep. No stands, just a practice spot."

We let the snitch out and she caught it first, but the score was twenty - eighteen to me in the end. Naturally. It was hysterical, actually, we were in stitches in the air, I nearly fell off the broom - she was laughing at me for being so - ahem, competitive, and I was laughing at her for laughing so ridiculously. But it got dark and we landed and she rolled over to stare at the sky. Mars was straight ahead - I like astronomy.

"What is your family like?" I asked. I pulled a disgusted face.

"Mum's messed up. Dad's an arsehole." I blinked. "I only realised that recently, mind. I was always trying to prove myself to him, and the heartless bastard didn't care." I didn't really care much that he didn't care, since that was how it was meant to be - you don't get emotion in strong pureblood families, and if you do, you are a weak link. It's just a matter of fact. Alex, being a poor coddled mudblood from a nice Muggle home, looked quite horrified. She hugged me.

"I don't need your sympathy, you know," he said, still matter-of-factly. "I know what you must be thinking. Poor me. But I don't care. Really, I don't. I never did love my parents." I might have loved mum at one point, but I grew out of it. She's useless and far too soppy.

"That's crap, Draco. You do, otherwise you wouldn't have hit me over it. I can't see how you could really love your dad-"

"I don't. He hits people."

"You've hit me. Be careful, Draco, you could easily turn into him."

"I will turn into him. Of course I will." Another that's the way it works situation, though I should think Alex will think otherwise. "And I meant he hits me. No one gets away with hitting me. It doesn't happen."

"You don't seem to care about it all."

"Not really. If you care you get hurt. I remember that. Mum said it a long time ago, and it's true. She also said strong heirs don't cry. I haven't actually told anyone that," I said in some surprise. It's not until you start talking you realise how much you haven't said. I looked across at Alex, and saw she looked both amazed and horrified at what I was saying, as if I was baring my soul to her without really caring about it. Which I wasn't; most people know about all these that's the way it works situations, I was just explaining the wizarding world.

"Draco, whether you want my sympathy or not, you have it. It's not the same as pity, you know, I know you'd hate that." She kissed me.

"Well, if that's the way you give sympathy, I had a terrible childhood." I grinned. She looked like she wanted to hit me and hug me at the same time. I'm good at this gorgeous bastard stuff.

"What about your other family?"

"Well, all of my grandparents are dead. Dad's dad was a lot like him, really, hit him round the head and made him swim in the lake in winter. Apparently he lost a brother from pneumonia like that. And he was only the second eldest of three, so I think he killed his elder brother for the money. I'm lucky I have no siblings to fight over the money with. Dad's mum was a Black."

"Black?"

"Wizarding family, very old. All a bit loopy, the women in that family. And probably rivalling the Malfoy blood in looks. Hence my gorgeousness." I grinned. She grinned back. "She was living until about ten years ago, but mum and dad got rid of her. She was totally dotty." I could tell she was trying not to look too horrified.

"What about your mum? Or aunts and uncles?"

"Oh, mum is a Black too."

"That means your mum was related to your dad!"

"Only very distantly. I think she was mum's aunt's mother's sister, or something obscure like that."

"That is not right. And hey, these aren't the same Blacks as Sirius Black, are they?"

"Yep. He was mum's cousin."

"I'm sorry," she said in an authentic mollycoddled-muggle tone.

"Don't be ridiculous. You're not, and besides - he was disowned, and I never even met him."

"Oh. Um. Okay..."

"Mum's mum was as loopy as her eldest daughter, who is utterly psycho, and a dragon, and her dad was a cowering wreck. Mum called him the runt of the Black litter. And her younger sister married a muggleborn, and consequently no more a relation of mine as Sirius Black ever was." I sighed.

"Your gran was as loopy as who?"

"Bellatrix Lestrange. I have Lestrange blood through my Dad's side, so I'm blood related to my Aunt's husband. Everyone says that's weird."

"It is. And inbred."

"Marrying cousins is good. Money stays in the family."

"It's also entirely unhealthy for your children. Then there's the chaos of a family tree. This is my Granddad, Great Uncle Eric. Yeah."

"I know it's probably not healthy, but I don't have that problem. My cousin is a half-blood, and Bellatrix hasn't got a kid. She may have, I suppose, I mean may have had. She'd almost certainly kill it if it got in the way, which babies inevitably do."

"How can you talk so lightly about all this murder?"

"Like I said. If you care you get hurt." Silly mudblood still wasn't getting the picture.

"Well, your dad may be a psychopath, but I'm sure you aren't. I'm not in the habit of kissing psychopaths."

"I do care. That's why dad does the stuff he does. Because I shouldn't." I think I had gone too far in admitting I cared. I winced, but she didn't notice. She still looked as if she couldn't believe my tone.

"Bloody hell, Draco, you are messed up. And you should care. Hurting 'til you don't care anymore isn't right."

"Maybe not." I shrugged. "But at this precise moment I only care about one thing." I smirked. I couldn't think why I'd told her all this, but I didn't really want to say any more. She'd sounded interested, though. And it was fun, and...nice. I like her. I do, I can't help it, but she's still a mudblood and she'll never be my best buddy or a girlfriend or anything. Yucky idea.

I wonder, looking back on this, exactly what I meant when I said I cared about only one thing.

Kissing on Quidditch pitches, or her?