The Diary of Draco Malfoy

The Diary of Draco Malfoy: Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

October 28

The arrival of the Potter family is almost coming. Father bought us new dress robes from the exclusive François le something- something shop in honor of the occasion.

I have heard from very reliable sources that Lady McGonagall shops for lingerie there, a disturbing fact that makes my ears twitch in a most violent manner. Just so you know, Benjamin, even the seemingly innocent and harmless corsets there make men go "Awoo! Awoo!" (an imitation of father's reaction on mother's lacy violet and black brassiere), which is fine... but on Lady McGonagall? I think I shall pass on that one.

October 29

Today we had our manor scrubbed till it was spotless. I do not see any necessity in doing that, it's so...fake. They should see the grandeur of our stone mansion in all its dusty cobweb-infested splendor. It's only right, since we are going to be neighbors for some time.

I was kidding! Can't fool you, eh? Ha, when I see the looks on their faces...

Have a good night, Benjamin, and I cannot believe that I just said good night to a lifeless stack of vellum.

I reckon I'm just lonely. I guess I'm looking forward to tomorrow after all.

October 30

His name is Harry, and I don't feel like writing now. There's something about him...

October 31 - All Hallows Eve

I still can't express what I felt yesterday. But otherwise I can already write well and tell acid jokes, so be prepared, Benjamin my boy. I have a lot to spill.

A lot of food was brought by the guests that came to celebrate All Hallows Eve with us. Stalin is sick, and he might contaminate the food so he is still locked upstairs in his sleeping chamber with Camilla to give him medication. ( ah, I wonder what they are doing right now... ) Anyway, I was surprised that the food was really not that bad. It is, to sum it all up, mediocre. That's a compliment if it came from someone like me, who has impeccable taste and a gourmet tongue as well.

Pratty butcher boy's grandmother came with kegs of apple cider while the Delacour family was the first to bring lilac-coloured (?) soul cakes. That I had no stupidity to eat.

I was waiting for Harry, the new boy with an ugly scar on his forehead, since he is the only wealthy boy of my age. Of course, there is Seamus Finnigan, fine lad, but his accent is so hard to comprehend, ( " No friggin' wae! " ) that I have to bring along mother just to verbally interact with him.

While waiting, I drank two glasses of apple cider ( spiked with 1150 Jack Daniels ) and ate a piece of camembert cheese. Which reminds me, I have to go fencing later.

Harry came with his godfather and they brought seaweed pie. ( Imagine that! We hardly know each other and they brought seaweed pie! SEAWEED PIE! )

He is alright, I suppose, although far too...gentlemanly. And chivalric. And merciful.

Talk about women he would not. Too dirty. Talk about riches he would not. It would make the Weasleys uncomfortable.

So I said, out of impatience, boredom and fury, " What the hell else is there to do, then?! "

And he answered, " I know. Let's play with Neville, Seamus and Ron. "

So he did. I joined in after an hour for lack of something better to do. We played chess, wooden sword fencing, an Irish game called Stick Wand and ended with a spitting competition.

I realized three things: One: Butcher boy is a lot more of a prat than I thought. Two: Seamus' accent is less understandable now that he lacks one front teeth. ( fell down the marble floor, that idiot. ) and Three: My, has Ron grown. Taller than me, that is, not in the way that some GREEN MINDED people would think!

But if you're curious, yes, he has grown there, too. My congratulations, Weasley boy.

~NOVEMBER~

November 1 - The Day of the Saints

There was another grand feast held this morning, and my father can hardly stand up because his stomach is not feeling very well. It serves him right, I told him not to eat the soul cakes! It proves that they should listen to me more often, after all, I am brilliance itself.

My theories are again proven accurate: Stalin did bed Camilla. We found them lying side by side on Stalin's sleeping chamber with no clothes on. And I am sure I heard moaning last night.

Another proof of brilliance, Draco. You manage to outdo yourself every time.

Anyway, I sat beside Harry, or rather, Harry sat beside me throughout the whole feast. His unkempt hair kept falling in front of his face whenever he bows down to drink his soup and he still has that piece of pork stuck between his teeth since morning. He is poor at fencing, spitting and stick wands. But above all that, I am fond of him.

And that is what I am worried sick about. What do I find in this person that makes me feel...content? Not really with material wealth, because the King has more gold than us, nor is it with looks, for the M emblazoned in my hide is not exactly a pleasant site to see. It's something I have never felt before. Can it be love? No, he's a lad, that could never happen. Then what is it?

I leave this question onto you, Benjamin, in hopes that you could find an answer for me tomorrow night.

Great, now I am asking an inanimate object to solve my problems. What is my world coming to?

November 2 - The Day of the Souls

The guests have left to mourn for the dead ones, and so all is at peace again. Uncle Brandon shall come for me tomorrow, so I must pack my things ( and must I say, a lot of things ) and prepare for my stay at his mansion. Mother bought me a new pair of boots to go with my François le something - something dress robes. And now, I am again reminded of lady McGonagall's purchases. Ergh.

I am quite relieved to go out of the house, even just for 3 days. I am already tired of it, quite frankly, being there everyday with nothing to do. Uncle Brandon provides me with much entertainment mainly because he does not have a family of his own, allowing us to spend the whole day together.

You know, Benjamin, sometimes I wish that he was my father instead of Lucius Malfoy, who can sometimes be a pathetic excuse of a human being. He never really cares about me the way Uncle Brandon does. And I'm sure he will treat mother a lot better.

Oh, and don't worry, I will bring you along.

November 3

Uncle Brandon's carriage arrived just in time. His black horses are stunning and I will try and bully father to get me some of that.

Anyways, today he taught me new forms of magic ( Peeping Potion, Benjamin? ) and gave me an eagle owl for an advanced birthday present. ( I am sure he would give me another one on the day itself ) I am still deciding upon the name.

I cannot wait for tomorrow. He said that we would have another one of those interesting man-to-man talks, of which father never liked doing.

~