Draco's Diary (It's Secret, Ya Know)

11^th Entry: September 7^th (Night...roughly around the witching hour)

Very strange and kind of despairing day today, really.

I awoke to the barely audible sound of, 'ME BEASTIE, ME COMING TO DO THAT THING!'

I jerked awake in terror, staring around the perimeter of our camp in an attempt to save my own beautiful ass.

Fortunately, it was devoid of beasties...apart from Master Weasley and Miss Pansy Parkinson.

I cleared my throat and said, 'What's for breakfast?'

Weasley stormed towards me and said, 'Listen up, Malfoy!'

'Listening up,' I replied sardonically.

'I don't know which of the girls you did...stuff with last night, mainly because none of them are telling. But if you do that ever again...I will personally kill you. With...some kind of...killing...thing!'

'Some kind of killing...thing?' I asked, very amused at this point. 'Oh, no, not a killing...thing!'

Weasley reddened and added in a hissed whisper, 'And to think I wasted all that parchment and ink on you!'

He stormed off, howling like a fwooper.

Murphy's Law - what can go wrong will go wrong. And this quest seems to be going even worse than the property values in East Anglia (which have dropped like a paralysed hippogriff, or so father told me.)

This proved several things to me.

One: that God moves in very mysterious, and quite often cruel, ways. And secondly, that God does not play dice with the universe. He plays a very complex game of His own devising, which could be viewed by everyone else as an obscure and complicated game of poker played in a pitch-dark room, with blank cards, for infinite stakes, with a Dealer who won't tell you the rules and worst of all...smiles all the time. And finally, it proved that they do not answer prayers, whoever deals with them treats them like experimental charms.

Blaise was giving me funny looks. I got up, realised I was still naked, and quickly wrapped my sleeping bag around me. Potter chuckled viciously, but Master Weasley just STARED at...it, (you know what I mean...my pride and joy...my...thing...oh, God, I don't think sex counsellor is a good career choice. I can't even bring myself to write the word "penis", for Slytherin's sake!) with his eyes goggling out of his head.

Ginny and Blaise exchanged looks...and a gesture followed by words that sounded vaguely like, 'It was this big!'

My ego thoroughly inflated, amongst other things, I got to my feet with my makeshift clothes about my hot, studly body.

'So...what's for breakfast?' I repeated.

'Nothing,' Potter replied.

'Why nothing?' I demanded.

'Pansy ate everything,' Potter said simply.

I glared at Pansy, who wiped a guilty smear of chocolate away from her chin.

'It's that time of the month, ok?' she snapped. 'I just had such a craving!'

My eyes squeezed shut in horror.

'YO, BEASTIE!' I bellowed. 'WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU WHEN WE NEED YOU?'

The beastie echoed back, 'ME BEASTIE, ME NOT EAT OTHER BEASTIES LIKE HER!'

Parkinson burst into tears and ran off into the forest.

'Right, so,' I continued briskly, 'Potter, get out that map and let's see what we can do.'

Potter glared viciously at Ron.

'Don't tell me...' I groaned. 'Weasley used it to wipe his arse.'

Weasley squawked indignantly, while Ginny giggled.

'NO!' Weasley howled, turning deep purple.

'Actually, he used it to light the fire, thinking we could get some breakfast,' Potter snapped irritably.

'FOR FUCK'S SAKE, BEASTIE, WHERE ARE YOU?' I bellowed.

'ME BEASTIE, ME AM WHAT I EATS. ME NOT BEING STUPID AS WELL AS UGLY.'

Well, that settled that. I have always said that beauty may be skin deep, but ugly goes right to the bone.

Potter tried to rouse Granger, who gave him a punch for going near that part of her anatomy.

Eventually, with everyone dressed (in the same clothes we had worn for the last week or so) and everyone disgruntled (particularly with Parkinson and Ron) we went on our merry way through the forest.

Granger is next on my TO DO list, just so you know. Tee hee hee...to "do" list!

I am also, to my incessant horror, on Snape's TO DO list. And Weasley's.

I sobbed spasmodically for hours when I realised the truth. Weasley really DID send me those damned love letters...and to think I nearly...to imagine that I almost...*PUKES VIOLENTLY*

Snape sent me a love postcard today. It had a picture of himself in tight PVC and leather, his hair as greasy as ever, but lying in some bizarre position on top of the Astronomy Tower, the whole beastly thing bearing the legend "HOWDY FROM HOGWARTS!" He winked theatrically through the gimp mask at me.

It read:

Hi there, baby,

How's the quest going? I had a chat with Dumbledore, and he told me to stay away from you. Like I'm gonna stay away, what with you braving fear, fire and foes on this quest!!! Like, Gawd, you are like, SO NOBLE AND BRAVE!! I THINK I LOVE YOU!!!

Your Fan Club says they're gonna make up a care package for you, but remember that I'm sending you the chastity belt, big boy! There's just something about you keeping yourself for me...woah!

Write back soon with news, hot stuff,

Lots of love,

Sexy Sevvie.

I changed the name on the address (DRACO "STUD MUFFIN" MALFOY, SOMEWHERE IN THE WILDERNESS, OFF ON A QUEST, BRITAIN) to read "HARRY POTTER" and left it in his knapsack.

I just can't wait for his reaction. I expect even "Sexy Sevvie" will hear Potter's screams of rage/horror.

After all, the words "brave" and "noble" do not spring to mind when one looks for words to describe myself.

"Damn", yes.

"Sexy", of course.

But not "brave"...and "noble"! That goes together like...God, I need a new comparison. Cookies...and ass? No, not peculiar enough. Like...like...Potter and Voldemort on a date! Yeah, that's the one!

Maybe there's still hope for me as a writer!

Despite today being infinitely boring, we do have some adventure ahead tomorrow!

We are no longer going in circles. Oh, no! Potter and Pals have managed to sort their gonads from their asses, and we are back (as far as it is fucking possible, what with no map and no supplies) on track.

Right up ahead is some sort of mouldering old castle, complete with ghostly howls at ungodly hours and hellish smells erupting from its depths. I'm pretty sure that not all the smells are from the castle, and I reckon some are coming from Pansy.

Stopping short of actually going near her derriere to plug it up (which would be more punishing than an orgy with Filch and Snape and McGonagall) I cannot do anything about it. Probably all the "baked beans" she ate. The cure is worse than the damned affliction!

Ah, well.

Beasties, strange predicaments and the prospect of Hermione Granger.

Oddly enough, I see what Potter meant about quests.

I just can't wait for tomorrow!

Tinkerty-Tonk,

Draco the Disturbed and Amused.

P.S. The beastie said it wouldn't eat Pansy...but what if it eats me?

Now there's a nasty thought!

I may not sleep for days now.

And that's going to wreak havoc on my complexion.

Crap!