The Secret Diary of Draco Malfoy: Aristocrat, Ne'er-do-Well, Rampant Homosexual

The Secret Diary of Draco Malfoy: Aristocrat, Ne'er-do-Well, Rampant Homosexual.

Disclaimer: All characters belong to J. K. Rowling, Warner Bros, etc. I own nothing and earn nothing. Obviously, certain themes are adapted from the Bridget Jones books and films by Helen Fielding and Universal. No violation of copyright is intended.

Chapter 2: 7^th September - 18^th October.

Saturday 7^th September.

Dear Diary,

I really am going to have to talk to someone about the quality of food provided by this school. I swear, everything that arrives at the table is crammed with saturated fat. Even the vegetables. I might have to have my meals specially-made if the overall standard remains this poor. I have my figure to think of!

At least we've started Quidditch practice now. They still haven't said who our first game will be against yet, and I really hope it's not Gryffindor. I need to have a bit more time to get over this stupid crush before I go up against Potter. Oooh... going up against Potter... There's a phrase which conjures up a thousand dirty images.

I saw him earlier, just after breakfast. My stomach always does this stupid somersault every time I catch sight of him these days. I don't know what's wrong with me. I mean, I never get like this over a guy! I'm always really cool and confident because I know that whoever it is I want will be putty in my hands. Oh, maybe that's it. Maybe I'm like this because I know that Potter will never be interested in me. That's depressing.

Ugh, he was talking to Weasley's sister when I saw him. He was laughing, and she was flicking her hair about and hanging off his arm like the silly bint she is. Not that I've ever spoken to her. I wish I could say that she's as unfortunate as her older brother, but sadly this is not the case. I mean, obviously the feminine charm is lost on me, but even I can tell that she's not entirely grotesque. A bit of a tramp by all accounts, but then that's usually considered a good thing. And Harry does seem to really like her. Oh, if they end up going out together I'll be seriously pissed off. Everyone at school needs to recognise that despite the fact that we have never spoken a civil word to each other, he hates the sight of me, and we are separated by the barrier of sexual orientation, Harry Potter is mine and they had better stay away if they know what's good for them.

Monday 9^th September.

Dear Diary,

I purposely banged into Harry when leaving Potions today, and he looked right at me. It was the best thing that's happened to me all week - not only did I get some actual physical contact, I was also treated to some close-up 'Potterglare' action. Of course, I wish that our moments together could be a bit more positive, but hey, I'll take whatever I can get.

The weird thing is that I can't even pinpoint exactly when this thing with Harry started. I'm positive that in the beginning I really did think that he was just an irritating twit who stole all the glory that should have been mine. The irritation quickly turned into obsession and it wasn't long before there was very little I thought of besides how I might get the better of Harry Potter. I think the real moment of revelation didn't actually come until last year. I suppose I'd been in denial. I mean, I developed a deep loathing of Cho Chang when they were going out back in fifth year, but again I just thought that was because I hated anything and everything associated with Potter. It didn't occur to me until later that I hated the people close to Harry because I wanted to be close to him too and I was jealous.

When I finally realised the truth, Harry was predictably wearing his Quidditch uniform. It was after a Gryffindor vs. Ravenclaw match, and Harry was leaving the pitch with the rest of his team. I was glowering at him hatefully, but then he turned back to say something to Weasley, smiled and tossed his hair out of his eyes, and I just knew. God, it was a bitch. I realised that I wanted Harry Potter more than I'd ever wanted anyone, and I'd spent the whole of our acquaintance doing all I could to make him hate me. I think that's what finally drove me into the sinewy arms of Blaise Zabini. It was a consolation shag. And it wasn't terribly consoling at that.

So now I'm stuck. I have this stupid infatuation with a guy who is never going to like me back and I can't seem to get over it. Even when I leave Hogwarts I won't be able to forget him because he's in the papers every other week. Clearly this horrible situation is the embodiment of all my evil actions coming back to haunt me.

Memo to self: hug more kittens.

Thursday 12^th September.

Dear Diary,

Today was a low day.

I saw Harry with some of his Gryffindor cronies talking in the main quad just after morning break. He was eating a chocolate bar and he threw the wrapper in the bin. After they'd gone, I... oh God, it's too shameful. I don't know if I can say it. Oh, alright. I went down the dustbin and got the chocolate wrapper out. I kept it in my pocket for the rest of the day and now it's in the special box I have which is reserved specially for things that remind me of Harry.

Oh, I am sick. I am a sick, sick puppy.

Friday 13^th September.

It's Friday the Thirteenth today. I've been really paranoid that something bad is going to happen to me all day, but I think that that's only true for good people. For those who are inherently a little bit evil like myself, the curse does not apply. Just one of the reasons why it pays to be bad, I suppose.

Ooh, I had a wet dream about Harry last night. Man, was it good. I dreamt I shagged him on the Quidditch pitch, and he was wearing his Gryffindor robes. He was writhing around, saying how much he'd always wanted me and that I was the best he'd ever had. Maybe my Friday the Thirteenth bad luck was that I woke up. And then had to change my sheets.

I was thinking about something today. When two guys have sex, how the hell do you decide who tops and who bottoms? How do you work it out? I've only actually gone all the way with one person, and Blaise was so obviously a bottom that it was easy. But what if you both want to top? Do you just not have sex until one of you gives in, and then the sex is all resentful? Or do you fight for it? An arm wrestling contest? How do you decide? Urgh, sometimes I feel like the most incompetent gay man that ever lived. But then I look in the mirror, see that I'm gorgeous, and everything's better again.

Friday 20^th September.

Dear Diary,

This week has been an absolute bitch. I've had so much homework that this is the first opportunity I've had to make a diary entry. Even now, I'm writing during lunch break because I have to go to the library tonight with Theo to finish off our Defence Against the Dark Arts essays.

Ooh, Professor Sprout just walked past. Ooh, there's a woman screaming for a makeover if ever there was one. Good God, the woman looks as though she's just thrown on an old potato sack and called it a robe. And is that the Sorting Hat she's got on her head? It certainly looks like it. Oh, and she could do with about a bucket-load of Dr Santiago's Sleek and Shine potion on that hair of hers. Ick. Oh, there's the bell. It's Herbology next, so I have to go and spend the next two hours looking at Sprout. Fabulous.

Sunday 22^nd September.

Dear Diary,

Karma really is a bitch. Having mentioned how hideous Sprout is in my last entry, I went to Herbology and got a load of Stinksap in the face. This prompted a load of oh-so-funny comments from Blaise about whether I preferred to spit or swallow. I was not happy.

Monday 23^rd September.

Dear Diary,

I very nearly got landed with detention today for being late to Potions. I guess I have Snape's blatant favouritism to thank for getting away with it. It was a close call though; I think I scraped by on my charm and dashing good looks alone. It didn't help that I was unable to come up with an excuse for my lateness, but that could hardly be helped. Somehow I don't think that 'sorry, Professor Snape, but Potter was wearing new tight jeans at lunch today and I had to stop off at the first floor loos for an emergency wank' would have gone down too well.

I wonder where Harry got those jeans from. My goodness, the boy has a fine arse.

Oh, Vincent and Greg have just come back. Apparently, they've spent their evening playing a practical joke on Ernie Macmillan involving some whipped cream, a copy of the Muggle Studies textbook and some string. I'm not really clear on the details, but they think it's hilarious. Sometimes I wonder why we're friends. Well, apart from the fact that they do my every bidding - a guy can never get enough of that. I guess they're my bitches. Only that conjures up disgusting images of me as the filling to a Crabbe and Goyle sandwich and... Oh no, no, never ever. My thoughts went to the bad place again. Okay, Potter's jeans, Potter's jeans, Potter's jeans. Ah, that's better.

Wednesday 25^th September.

Dear Diary,

I had a conversation with Harry today. Well when I say conversation, I mean that I was a bitch and he yelled at me, which is as close to a conversation as we will ever get. We were on our way out of Potions, and Harry was talking to one of his Gryffindor friends about how Quidditch practice was going really well and that he was really pleased with his team this year. I may have said something slightly insulting regarding Weasley's ability as a Keeper. And then gone on to insult Harry's own abilities as a Captain. And then I may have said something about the entire Gryffindor house being descended from trolls.

Harry just glared at me and told me that I was a waste of oxygen and that I should keep my opinions to myself because nobody cared what I thought. I hate that he always makes me feel like I'm about five years old whenever we fight.

You know, these little altercations just aren't as satisfying as they once were. These days I always come out of them feeling depressed and more than a little bit stupid. I hate that Harry can't seem to see through my icy exterior and recognise the fact that I absolutely adore him. I suppose it's too late now to tell him that the only reason I'm so mean to him is because I can't quite find the words to tell him how I really feel.

Perhaps I should try being polite to Harry. I mean, I know I have my reputation in Slytherin to keep up, but it's our last year now and I have to at least try to be on slightly better terms with the boy. I just hope I'm not too late.

Saturday 28^th September.

Dear Diary,

I went into Hogsmeade with Pansy today which turned out to be a laugh. I managed to talk her out of buying a truly hideous pink dress which she found in Gladrags. I don't think the shop assistant liked me that much - I was quite vocal about how disgusting the dress was. But you know, these things need to be said. I was just being honest - why does everyone always have a problem with it?

We went to the Three Broomsticks for lunch. Pansy had pasta, despite me telling her that she should really be careful about what she eats, as she's starting to get a little wide in the hip area. She kicked me. I don't know why I'm friends with her sometimes; I give her some perfectly friendly advice because I care about her, and she physically abuses me. I think she must be sexually frustrated. I mean, it can't be easy being around someone like me all the time, knowing that she can't get anywhere. I suppose I should try to be more patient.

As luck would have it, Harry and his friends came in just after us. We ended up following them around, just so that I could look at Harry. I really love that Pansy never judges me when I suggest stuff like that. Harry spent ages in the sweet shop. I seriously don't know how he manages to look so good when he eats so much crap. He looked really happy today - much more so than usual. He was talking a lot and laughing, but unfortunately we couldn't get close enough to hear what he was saying. His friends didn't look quite so enthusiastic - I wonder what it all means. On the one hand, it's good to see Harry in such a good mood, because he has a gorgeous smile. On the other hand, it makes me wonder what has made him so happy. Or who.

Oh God, Blaise just came over. He was peering over my shoulder, trying to see what I was writing about. Luckily, I've performed a Disillusionment Charm on this diary so that if anyone besides me tries to read it, all they will see is a random jumble of letters. Pretty nifty, don't you think? Ugh, Blaise is such bitch, I hate the sight of him these days. Actually, that's not true. The sight of him is pretty good. As long as he doesn't talk or move, everything's fine. He keeps wittering on about this new boyfriend he's supposed to have, giving everyone really coy looks. Whenever anyone is stupid enough to encourage him by asking who the mystery man is, he rolls his eyes and says that he can't say. Oh, I really want to hit him. I bet he doesn't have a new boyfriend and that he's just saying he does for attention. I can't believe I had sex with that idiot.

Friday 4^th October.

Dear Diary,

I have been doing a lot of thinking over the past week, and I've realised that I've been going about things all the wrong way. I really need to think about myself and my own needs more; I have been far too accommodating towards others lately, and it's not healthy. I suppose I can't help being a giver, but there comes a time when you have to set some boundaries. I think that if I'm a bit more centred on myself, I will be a lot less stressed and a lot more mature and wise. I mean, I'm pretty wise already, but a bit more can't hurt, can it?

So I've been thinking about me. Who is Draco Malfoy? What do I want from life? I suppose my main achievement has been resolving this whole thing with Harry Potter. You see, I'd been obsessing about it for so long, I'd failed to see the bigger picture. The truth is, it's just not respectful to myself to keep up this infatuation with someone who will never actually be mine. Nothing can ever come of it, so I'm only hurting myself. So I'm resolved. While I will continue to appreciate Harry Potter from an aesthetic point of view, I will no longer agonise over whom he spends his time with or the fact that he doesn't like me. Actually, I think it's healthy to just fancy someone without it going anywhere. He's unattainable, you know? This way, he can just stay in my fantasy bubble along with Juan my imaginary boyfriend, and he will never be tainted by reality. I will never be disappointed with Harry because he will only ever be that idealised fantasy for me. Ooh, Harry, Juan and I could have a threesome! See, anything can happen, because it's all in my control.

Honestly, I don't know what I was thinking, wanting Harry as my actual boyfriend. It would ruin everything. No, from now on, Harry can date whoever he wants and I won't care. I will date whoever I want and not compare them to Harry. I'm a great person and I'm put to waste spending all my time hanging onto this fruitless hope that Harry will notice me. Well, not any more.

I do feel a lot better now that I've made this resolution. I feel free. I think that now, if I saw Harry with a girl, I wouldn't be bothered in the slightest because I know that he's only my fantasy guy. I think a new level of understanding has been reached today, and I am very proud of my new-found maturity.

Monday 7^th October.

Dear Diary,

Oh God! Oh no! Oh, something really bad has happened! I think Harry is almost definitely going out with someone! Oh, whenever I find out who it is, I'm going to hex them into oblivion. He is mine! Oh, I feel like someone has ripped all of my internal organs out and stamped on them. I want to hit somebody. This is so unfair!

The reason I know is because I was queuing behind Harry in Potions to get our supplies, and I could see that he had a hickey just above his collar. Some bitch has been sucking on my man's neck! I feel sick. I want to cry, but I can't because I'm too manly. Who the hell is it? I wonder who else knows about it. Perhaps I could get some information by eavesdropping on his friends. But then if I did find out, it would make it real, and that would be so much worse. Right now, I can still be in denial and tell myself that Harry just had a run-in with a Nargle or something.

I hate my life. But not as much as I hate Potter's new girlfriend.

Thursday 10^th October.

Dear Diary,

Well, I've been following Harry around for the past few days, but all to no avail. I still don't know who he's seeing. It isn't easy, I'll tell you that. For one thing, I'm always being followed myself by my many admirers and friends in Slytherin. It's very difficult to conduct acts of espionage when you're constantly being tailed by your very own entourage. Sometimes, being so popular and universally adored is quite a bind.

The other thing is that Harry is really difficult to keep track of. Sometimes he'll go round a corner, and you'll follow seconds later, and he's gone. Oh, he did catch me yesterday, actually. He was heading up in the direction of the Astronomy Tower just after dinner, and I thought that I finally had him. He went round a corner and I followed moments later, only to find him standing right there facing me.

"Malfoy, I know you've been following me recently. What the hell do you want?"

It was one of those awful moments where you simply cannot think of anything to say. I just stood there like an idiot while he glowered at me. In the end, he just rolled his eyes and told me to leave him alone or he'd hex me. Well, great. Not only have I failed to find anything out, but Potter now thinks I'm a gormless idiot. Fan-bloody-tastic.

Friday 11^th October.

Dear Diary,

Still no information to report about Harry. To be honest, I've had to stop following him around. It's not that I'm scared that he'll hex me, it's just that I've been a bit tired and I realise that it was actually quite an immature thing to do. He probably wouldn't have hexed me anyway. I'm not scared of him.

Oh, Blaise is still being an annoying git. He spends all his time wandering around with this really superior look on his face. As if anyone cares who he's shagging! He probably isn't even shagging anyone - I'll bet you all the Galleons in Gringotts that half of his so-called boyfriends have been a figment of his somewhat limited imagination.

Saturday 12^th October.

Dear Diary,

Harry was wearing a new green shirt today. He looked really good, and it proved my theory that if you'd just put him in clothes that fitted him, he'd have the fiercest body of anyone here. Oh, and the colour brought out his eyes perfectly. He looked so dreamy. My rapture was dimmed by one thought though - I'll bet that his new girlfriend got it for him. It's really not the kind of thing he'd do for himself, you know? Oh, I hate that there's someone out there who's that close to Harry that she's buying him clothes. That was something I fantasised about doing! Pansy says I'm letting my imagination run away with me and that he probably isn't seeing anyone, but I suspect she's just trying to make me feel better.

Monday 14^th October.

Dear Diary,

Okay, so I've been thinking about this all of yesterday, and I've come up with a list of possible candidates for Harry's new girlfriend.

Those are the main candidates. However, I can't rule anyone out at this point. If they have breasts, they are an object of suspicion. Except for Professor Trelawney. That just makes me want to gag.

Thursday 17^th October.

Dear Diary,

Still nothing positive to report about Harry. I wish I could believe that I've just been imagining the whole thing, but then I see him wandering around with this little smile on his face and I just know that I'm not. I know how stupid I'm being. I know that I don't stand a ghost of a chance with Harry Potter and that it doesn't really matter, therefore, if he has a girlfriend. I can't help it, though. I can't have him, but I still don't want anyone else to have him either. He should become a monk.

I hate feeling this way. I'm so miserable all the time, but I can't show it because I have to keep up appearances. I can't even talk to Pansy about a lot of it, because she'd think I was crazy. This diary is my only true friend, my only confidante. No one else will ever know of the true pain and anguish lying behind the handsome face and sartorial elegance of Draco Malfoy.