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.

Chapter 5: 19^th December - 8^th January.

Saturday 19^th December.

Dear Diary,

Ah, I'm so glad to be home. My very own bedroom! My very own bathroom! No one to complain about the amount of toiletries I have! Ah, bliss... And you know what the best part is? I no longer have to look at Blaise's smug face every single day.

I do miss Harry, though. I saw him briefly on the train - we passed each other in the corridor. There wasn't much room, so we had to squeeze past each other to get by. I didn't miss the opportunity to press myself up against him a little. Shameless, I know. He was on his way back to his carriage, but seemed happy enough to stop for a quick chat. Apparently, he'll be staying with Weasley's family for the holidays. He seemed quite happy about this, bless him. I asked if Blaise would be joining him, and he looked a bit uncomfortable and said that the two of them were probably going to meet up, but that he didn't want to impose on Ron's mum. I can't blame him - can you imagine Blaise as a house guest? Harry didn't seem too disappointed about it. He looked a bit upset, and I wanted to ask what was wrong, but we were on a crowded train, so I couldn't. I just wished him a happy Christmas and went back to my carriage. Well, I'm going to have to write to him now. If Blaise has done something to upset Harry, I feel it is my duty to find out about it and aggravate the situation. For the common good, you know.

Mum took me shopping earlier to buy me some more clothes. I found the most outrageous shirt with these big flouncy ruffles at the collar, and a beautiful green velvet jacket. Mum also agreed to buy me these amazing pointy Italian boots, because patent is in this winter and she wants me to look up-to-date. I put on a fashion show when we got home to show off my new things. Mum got really into it, but Dad just looked on in despair, knocking back the gin. Poor Daddy.

Sunday 20^th December.

Dear Diary,

I take it all back - I hate being at home! My mother is doing my head in. I have just spent the last hour sitting in her dressing room, looking through carpet samples for the downstairs study with her. She thinks that just because I'm gay, I must be terribly interested in all aspects of interior design. Whenever I come home, it's always, "Oh, Draco, would you advise me on what curtains we should get for the lobby?" or, "Draco, darling, my friend Luella von Unworth has just had a new bathroom put in - do come and see it, you'll love what she's done with the tiles!" Worst of all was, "Draco, dear, would you be an angel and help me get into my new dress robes? I just can't manage the zip!" Ugh. Nobody needs that. I don't care about curtains or bathroom tiling, and just because I fancy other men doesn't mean that I am okay about helping my mother get dressed! It's traumatised me for life! I never even go into the downstairs study - what on earth would make her think that I would take the slightest bit of interest in what kind of carpet she puts in there? Now if she wanted my advice on hiring a hot new gardener, we might have something to talk about.

Coming out to my parents last year was a bit of a let-down. I'd got myself all psyched-up for a dramatic showdown, involving them threatening to throw me out of the house or at least cut my allowance. I had a self-righteous speech all planned out about how I aimed to single-handedly fight against oppression and stand up for gay rights everywhere. I imagined returning to school, bravely telling my peers that I had to be true to myself even though it had cost me the good favour of my family. Oh, how they would have admired me! I'd even bought an emo sweatshirt with a hood especially for the occasion. But sadly, my plans were to no avail. At least Dad had the good grace to suggest that I was going through a phase. Mum just clapped her hands and said "Oh, fantastic! Tell me, darling, do you think I should get layers put in my hair? I want to update my look, but I'm not sure I could carry it off." Hmph.

In other news, I sent Harry a Christmas card earlier. It read:

Dear Harry,

I hope you have a really nice Christmas and New Year. I'm glad that we're getting on now; I'd like us to be friends. You didn't seem very happy on the train - has something happened? I'm always here if you need to talk.

Love Draco.

That's not too much, is it? I don't want to scare him off. I hope I wasn't too forward asking him what was wrong but he didn't seem to mind talking to me back at school, so hopefully he won't think it's weird. I hope he replies!

Tuesday 22^nd December.

Dear Diary,

Dad's just showed me the photos from last night's Death Eater Christmas party. He was talking really enthusiastically about how I'd get to go next year. Er, great. I don't know why he thinks that would appeal to me. Worst of all was the photo of him dancing drunkenly with Vince's dad, a bit of tinsel wrapped around his head. Oh, and Auntie Bella was wearing the most hideous frothy black dress I have ever seen. And she'd teamed it with purple lipstick. Clearly, my mother inherited all the style genes in that family. There was one picture of Auntie Bella practically sitting in You Know Who's lap, gazing at him in adoration. To his credit, he didn't seem too happy about this and kept trying to edge away. Man, is You Know Who fugly. Dude! Seriously, if that's the price of phenomenal cosmic power, I'd rather be a Squib.

I still haven't told Dad that I don't want to become a Death Eater. I can't imagine he's going to react very well, so I'm a bit nervous. I think that Mum's kind of already realised. She hasn't said anything, but I just get the feeling that she knows. She never signed up herself, so I don't think she'd be that upset.

I'm still really missing Harry, but I'm doing everything I can to distract myself. Earlier, I went down to the servant's quarters and got all the house-elves to help me do a dance routine to Madonna. It was quite a challenge - they're completely tone-deaf and have rubbish coordination. I think it says a lot for my choreographing skills that I was able to get a half-decent performance out of them. In the end, Mum had to come down and tell me to stop because the elves needed to prepare dinner. We showed her the dance though, and she was duly impressed.

Wednesday 23^rd December.

Dear Diary,

I got a card back from Harry! Oh, I'm so happy, I can't stop grinning! Dad keeps giving me funny looks.

The card reads:

Dear Draco,

I hope you have a good Christmas. I'm happy that we're getting on now, and I'm looking forward to seeing you back at school.

Love Harry.

He said 'love Harry'! Harry luuurves me. He's looking forward to seeing me again! Oh, I'm so happy. Even better, the card had been put in a bigger envelope which contained this note:

Dear Draco,

I actually wrote this card out a few days ago, but I didn't know if you'd think it was really cheesy or whether you'd even want a card from me, so I didn't send it. But I got yours earlier, so I figured that it must be OK. In answer to your question, I didn't mean to seem unhappy on the train, but it appears that I can never manage to fool you. The truth is that I'd just been told something a bit upsetting. Hannah Abbott came up to me just before we left and said that Blaise has been gossiping about our sex life to everyone. I haven't said anything to Ron or Hermione, because they'd just say I told you so. I mean, maybe I'm just overreacting. Some people might not see it as a big deal, but I've always felt that that kind of thing is private, you know? I haven't had a chance to talk to Blaise about it yet. I'm still not sure what I should do. Anyway, I hope you enjoy your holiday. I'll see you in a couple of weeks.

Harry.

Oh, poor Harry. I wish I could be there to comfort him. He needs to dump Blaise! The trouble is that he's so sweet and he doesn't want to hurt Blaise's feelings. Blaise has no damn feelings! I'm so happy that Harry's confiding in me, though. I think I might really stand a chance with him, as soon as that stupid Blaise is out of the picture. I think it's only a matter of time now. I just hope that Harry dumps him before school starts again!

Saturday 26^th December.

Dear Diary,

Christmas is all over, which is a bit of a relief. I mean, presents are always good no matter what the occasion, but all that bloody food! Ugh. And it's too cold for me to go out running, so I just have to sit here like a slug. I'm sure I can actually feel the fat cells forming.

Christmas day was pretty hideous, actually.

It didn't start off to badly. Mum got me some new shirts and a couple of dress robes from Paris ("More clothes?" Dad cried in despair). She also got me some really posh skincare products. Dad didn't do too badly this year either - he got me some interesting-looking books and a new broomstick care kit. I may have to kill Pansy, though. She sent me a skin-tight t-shirt which read 'GAY BRIGADE: RECRUITMENT CAPTAIN', and a large chocolate penis. Mum thought it was hilarious. Dad choked on his morning tea. I thought I might die. The t-shirt's pretty cool, though. I just wish I'd been alone when I opened it because I may never live down the humiliation. However, it does make me very glad that I got Pansy those hard-boiled willy sweets and the enormous, bright pink vibrator. I hope she was as foolish as me and opened them in front of her parents.

We had the whole family over for dinner, which was ghastly. It just goes to show that money and blood-purity does not exclude you from being a thundering moron. Hmm, maybe Harry had a point there.

Auntie Bella and Uncle Roddy turned up late as usual. I'm so glad I don't see that much of Aunt Bella. She has hideous dress sense and is, let's face it, completely bat-shit. And where the hell did she pick up that Cockney accent? Azkaban? She certainly didn't get it from her family: Mum has perfect pronunciation and so do Grandma and Grandpa Black. Where the hell did it come from? Good grief, it's like dining with one of the extras from Oliver! Uncle Roddy's not too bad, I suppose. He just sits there in silence, twitching slightly and working his way through Father's whiskey cabinet. I suppose it would drive you to drink, being married to that.

Oh, we also had my grandma from Dad's side over. She's very sweet and always gives me money, which is enough to put her in my favour. The only trouble is that she's losing it slightly, and tends to say really inappropriate things at the wrong moments. We were all sitting round the fire having a small nightcap, when she turns to me and says very loudly, "So, Draco, want me to set you up with a rent boy? A special Christmas present from me to you?"

I looked at her in horror. "Er, no, that's quite all right, Gran. I think I can do without."

Dad cleared his throat gruffly, clearly dying of humiliation. "Mother, I hardly think that's an appropriate topic of conversation."

Gran looked at him innocently. "Don't be silly, Lucius, dear. Why shouldn't Draco enjoy himself while he's young?" She turned to address the room at large, her face lit with a benign smile. "Homosexuality runs in our family, you know. My late husband was as gay as the day is long. Why, if it wasn't for the turkey-baster, Lucius wouldn't be here at all!"

This seemed to be news to Dad as well as everyone else: he proceeded to get very drunk and Mum had to practically carry him up to bed in the end. My family is so embarrassing.

I've spent most of today reading my new books and studiously ignoring my mother's requests for me to come down and eat something. The diet is back on.

I did eat that chocolate penis, though.

I wonder whether Harry had a good Christmas...

Thursday 31^st December.

Dear Diary,

I have spent the best part of this week composing a reply letter to Harry. I can't believe it's taken so long! It's really difficult, though. I mean, I want to let him know that I like him, but I don't want to be too obvious about it. I wish I knew what he was thinking. I wonder if he's split up with Blaise yet. Anyway, here's the letter I'm almost definitely going to send:

Dear Harry,

I'm sorry it's taken me so long to reply. Things have been a bit hectic here, what with the whole family coming to stay. Have you had a good Christmas at Weasley's? I got some good presents, but I ate too much and I think I've put on weight. You're so lucky - you can eat whatever you want and you stay looking great.

Anyway, I'm really sorry about what happened with Blaise, although I can't say I'm all that surprised. That's exactly the kind of thing he would do. I hope you're not feeling too bad about it. The thing is, Harry, that you really do deserve better. I know I probably shouldn't say this, but Blaise is nowhere near good enough for you. You should be with someone who can appreciate how lucky they are to have you.

I'm really looking forward to seeing you again. Hope you have a happy New Year!

Love Draco.

That's not too forward, is it? I hope he doesn't think I'm being stupid. Argh, I still can't make up my mind whether to send it or not!

We're having a New Year's Eve party here tonight, which I have to attend. I wish I could get out of it, but Mum always insists on showing me off to all her friends. "Oh, Philomena, have you met my son, Draco? He's gay, you know!" Because that is the key thing to remember about me.

This is inevitably met with a response of, "Oh, how simply marvellous! Narcissa, you lucky thing! Draco, dear, you must come over and take a look at our new chinawear - you will just die!"

My plan is to drink until they're not annoying any more. Oh my, that will take an awful lot of alcohol!

Friday 1^st January.

Dear Diary,

Oh. Oh dear God.

I can hardly see the page.

I am never drinking ever again.

I'm lying on the floor with my head next to the toilet right now. As soon as I can bear to stand up, I'm going to take some 'Hangover B Gone' Potion.

Half-an-hour later.

Okay, I'm feeling a bit more civilised now. That potion really is marvellous stuff. I drank far too much last night. I ended up falling asleep under the buffet table before midnight had even sounded. A couple of house-elves put me to bed. They told me this morning that when they found me I was curled up next to a plate of chocolate éclairs, and I had whipped cream in my hair. Oh, hell.

Oh well, after my spectacular digestive pyrotechnics of this morning, I can't see that it would matter that much. I just hope nobody saw me stuffing my face last night. Oh, the shame!

Oh, and you know the worst of it? The last thing I remember from last night is coming up to my room and posting that letter to Harry. It was too forward! He's going to think I'm an idiot! Oh God, what if he and Blaise have made up? What if they read the letter together and laugh? This has all been a horrible mistake.

Saturday 2^nd January.

Dear Diary,

No reply from Harry. To make matters worse, my mother showed me the photos from the party. There's one of me doing a drunken karaoke rendition of Aretha Franklin, and another of me trying to force-feed Mum's friends some fondant fancies I'd got from somewhere. I remember none of this. Mum thought it was hilarious.

Sunday 3^rd January.

Dear Diary,

Still no reply from Harry. He must hate the letter. He must have made things up with Blaise. I went shopping earlier to try to calm my nerves. I met up with Greg and talked him out of buying a revolting yellow sweater for Vince, and I bought some new trousers and a nice cashmere scarf, but I'm still really nervous. I keep getting butterflies in my stomach every time I think about that stupid letter. I wish I'd never sent it.

Monday 4^th January.

Dear Diary.

Still no reply. I think I might have to do the honourable thing and commit suicide before I have to return to the inevitable humiliation I will receive at school tomorrow. I really don't want to go back. I can just picture Blaise's face...

Tuesday 5^th January.

Dear Diary,

He replied! He actually replied! Ah, everything is coming up roses.

I was just about to go to bed last night when I got Harry's owl. Here is what his reply said:

Dear Draco,

I'm sorry I didn't reply sooner. I've had a lot of trouble trying to find the right things to say. Do you ever get like that? I hope you had a good New Year. Mrs Weasley made a really nice dinner, then we put on a firework display in the garden. I had a great time, but I guess you probably did something much more impressive.

Thanks for the advice about Blaise, it really meant a lot. I realised that you were right, and I broke up with him. He didn't take it very well and I felt a bit bad, but I think it's for the best.

Anyway, I guess I'll probably see you tomorrow once we get back to school. Looking forward to it.

Oh, and you really don't need to worry about your weight - you always look fantastic.

Love Harry.

Ahem. OMIGOD HARRY BROKE UP WITH BLAISE AND HE'S LOOKING FORWARD TO SEEING ME AND HE SAYS I LOOK FANTASTIC AND I THINK HE MIGHT REALLY LIKE ME!!!!!

Wow. Just wow. I could hardly sleep at all last night, I was so bouncy.

I didn't see Harry on the way back to school, but I did catch him looking over at me at dinner. We weren't able to say anything, but he smiled and waved. Blaise has been acting his usual bitchy self. He was telling everyone that he'd got bored with Harry and dumped him. I took great delight in telling everyone the truth. Very loudly. Blaise stormed off to bed with a face like thunder, and now he's not talking to me. Pity.

Ah, I can't wait for classes to start tomorrow. Something tells me that this term is going to be very interesting.