Adequately Yours, Draco Malfoy

Adequately Yours

Draco Malfoy

Entry # 1

Where should I start, my over characteristically slicked back hair, my evil defense mechanism, or my suicidal urges? What to choose, what to choose. What's the use of my rambling, anyways? See, this is one of the advantages of wanting to kill yourself. You become strangely ruthless after a while. In other words, you don't give a flying fuck, really. Besides, the only thing I've thought about is that episode of the "Twilight Zone" that I watched. Eugh, those people freak me out. The only other thing that matters to me now is her.

Yes, her. The one who I've been waking up next to for the last two years in Hogwarts. It started in our fifth year really, when we began sneaking around. I remembered once in our third year we used to sneak kisses, but she was doing so many extra lessons that I hardly saw her. And at that Tri-wizard thing, cheering on Potter and having sexual tension with Weasley, and oh yeah, going to the Yule Ball with Krum. It gets a little overused cliché to see her in the morning almost everyday in my bed, in my arms, and then when that's over, she and I snipe at each other in the hallways. It's become very tiring. She's the one who buttons her top professionally, she's the one who puts on her robes, that are ironed and cleaned always, she's the one who brushes her hair the best that she can, she's the one that helps me with my tie when it's time to go to breakfast. And, oh did I forget, she's also the one going out with Potter. That's right. Potter.

It's funny really, how in our third year, we both started liking each other (or should I say, lusting after each other) after she smacked me because I was teasing the trio about that oaf, Hagrid. Okay, fine we don't have the same views on blood, and my father would probably do the killing curse on me if he knew I was sleeping with a mudblood like her, and we get on each other's nerves. But we laugh sometimes, and damn, is she a good lay. But it's becoming a drag when she leaves me.

"Why do you have to leave?" I always ask. She does my tie, fiddles with it, messes up my hair, kisses my cheek, and sighs. It's the normal procedure every morning. "Because I have to, Draco," she always responds. Because she has to hold up her reputation as the most cleverest girl in Hogwarts, top of her classes, and all lovey-dovey with Potter. Now I am seventeen, in our seventh year, and she's cheating on him with me. I told her to tell him about it, but she shakes her head, and always says, "You don't understand." She told me once that even though she goes out with him, they hardly ever kiss, and that they're better off friends. And it seems like they're best friends, really. She says she's waiting for the 'right moment'.

Precious Potter and his too-big-for-him-robes and the famous scar to indicate that he's the freaking 'Boy-Who-Lived'. So what? I lived too, right? So where's my fame? With his I-don't-know-how-to-do-my-tie-and-I-don't-know-how-to-brush-my-hair, and his stand-up-for-house-elves-and-their-mismatched-socks. I am not jealous. Just because Potter practically owns the girl I lov- like and is loved by the majority of this damned school, there's no need to fret and pout. And shout.

I made a new potion by the way. I haven't named it yet, though. I got half the ingredients of 'The Draught of Living Dead' potion that Snape told us about in our first year, and mixed it with half the ingredients with 'The Weakening Potion' and a bit of 'The Yearning' potion. I already experimented with it on a rose, putting droplets on it everyday, and it died in exactly seven days. I drank some of the potion, too, and I nearly passed out. But maybe because Crabbe was sleepwalking naked again. Anyways...

I had a lovely Christmas, by the way. Real lovely. All the Death Eaters (except what's-his-name-Peter-whatever) came over for dinner. I had to sit through hours of evil sitting around me, my father flirting with several men, and my mother getting tipsy and sexually harassing the turkey. Fun? Ah, what a lovely Jolly-Holly fucked up Holiday season. Oh, and that's not all, not at all. When I passed by our drawing room, my father and Nott were 'exchanging presents' or doing something without 'the mistletoe' if you know what I mean. Of course you know what I mean, I am about as blunt as Conan O'Brien. What a great Christmas. Oh, joy, Voldemort may come next year. Maybe he'll buy the pony I always wanted.

Sarcastically Yours,

Draco Malfoy

Draco Malfoy