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

18^th Entry: September 13^th (This date just proves that life can only get worse!)

Is it possible for the fates to use just one, small, insignificant, diabolically handsome sex god as their plaything?

Not even in the good sense of "plaything", anyway!

I mean, how is it that one person should go through all of this...this - malarkey (and I mean that to sting!) and still be expected to be hot and intelligent and super-intelligent and hot and smart and dead sexy? Did I mention hot? Yes, I think I did.

Man, every time I look in the mirror, I still cannot believe how fiendishly sexy I am!

Once again, I find myself straying from the point more than Dumbledore's excuse for a map!

Do the fates just have it in for me?

They must do, because otherwise I would have done something nice for someone, and also because they wouldn't make me fancy Pansy Parkinson for the good of my health!

Maybe if I tell you the full story, you'll realise why this has come about.

Well, when everyone woke up (I hadn't slept out of the unmitigated horror of what I had seen) I told them the whole, sordid tale. (You see, last night they only knew that Ron had vanished into oblivion with Severus Snape. It was my painful duty to inform them that their intention was to be married, possibly in Vegas.)

Hermione sobbed and sobbed, wailing, 'How could he? He said he was going to get help for those...those...tendencies of his!'

I nearly cracked up at this.

'They weren't "tendencies", love,' I said, in what I intended to be a kind and understanding voice. It actually came out as a cross between a guffaw and a sneer.

Needless to say, Miss Granger hates me again.

No point in denying the truth, that's all I'm saying.

Lupin laughed hysterically when he found out. I swear, that man is permanently high on something or other! He is so cool! (And no, I'm sure he doesn't sing that freaking song about that freaking little blue dog investigator, or whatever it is!!!)

And it's really thanks to this that we stumbled across Voldemort's lair, quite by accident.

You could say that Lupin freaked out.

'AAAAAARGH!! GETTEMOFFME!!! YAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!!!' he bellowed, or something rather like.

'I'm feeling a little fragile, right now, Remus,' Potter moaned, 'so you're just going to have to chill out.'

'Get what off you, Professor?' Hermione asked.

'THEM!' Lupin shrieked, gesticulating wildly at his clothes.

He leaped to his feet, screamed briefly and charged full force at a nearby tree. His cranium impacted the tree, making rather a large hole.

Hermione and Ginny squealed and ran to help him, but he was miraculously fine! A little dazed, possibly contused, and maybe even bleeding internally, but he was fine!

And then, the tree keeled over with a deafening groan and much snapping of branches. To my amazement, there was some sort of doorway where the tree used to be. On the door, there was a sign saying:

VOLDEMORT'S SUPER SECRET LAIR!!!

P.S. KEEP OUT

P.P.S. THIS MEANS YOU, HARRY POTTER

P.P.P.S. AND YOUR MEDDLING FRIENDS

P.P.P.P.S. ...AND PRETTY MUCH ANYONE WHO WANTS MY DOWNFALL BROUGHT ABOUT.

'Who should go in first?' Ginny asked tentatively.

Well, he's good mates with your dad, Malfoy,' Harry said slyly, pushing me roughly towards the door.

'Get real, Potter!' I snarled.

'I say Pansy should!' Hermione suggested.

'Great idea, Hermione!' chirruped Blaise.

'Yeah, what Blaise said,' I observed.

'Go screw yourself, Malfoy!' Parkinson bellowed.

'Why, when there's Hermione, Blaise and Ginny here?' I asked innocently.

Lupin settled our dispute by strolling blithely up to the door and throwing it open.

'Anyone there?' he yelled.

YES.

The response was instant and chilling. You could tell nobody had said it...well, at the time it sounded like...I mean, it was...ah, Slytherin, piss it! It sounded dead, ok?!

'Well, who are you then?' Lupin demanded.

THE FOUR HORSEMEN OF THE APOCALYPSE. DO YOU MIND? WE'RE PLAYING POKER.

'Well, we want in!' Lupin snapped.

'Speak for yourself, wolf boy!' Hermione muttered, edging slowly away.

SIGH. HUMANS ARE SO TEDIOUS. READY, LADS?

Four horrifying figures advanced upon us. One was a skeleton clothed in what looked like a Gucci spin on a Dementor's robe, carrying a shiny scythe. Another was a walking suit of armour carrying many, many weapons. Another was stick thin with eyes bugging out of his head. The last one was oozing filth and dropping rubbish every time he moved!

I AM DEATH. Said the skeleton.

'Famine,' said the model look-alike.

'War,' stated the suit of armour with a rusty bow.

'And the inimitable Pollution,' said the gooey one.

'Hang on a second...' Hermione squeaked (in the kind of voice you normally hear in class saying 'Professor! Professor! That can't be right!'), adding, 'I thought it was war, famine, death and pestilence!'

They four of them shook their heads.

YOU SEE, WITH THE MUGGLE DISCOVERY OF INSECTICIDES...Death began. (I'd just like to point out how bizarre it was for a skeleton to talk without once moving its jaw. Did I mention it was bleeding out-and-out freaky?) PESTILENCE RESIGNED IN DISGUST, AND WE BROUGHT IN YOUNG POLLUTION HERE.

'You all know Sellafield nuclear plant?' Pollution said excitedly. 'Well, I invented that place!'

We exchanged looks. Nuclear? Sellafield?

'And what happened to Pestilence?' Hermione asked politely.

He GOES BY THE NAME OF BOB NOW. VERY BITTER AND GRUMPY BECAUSE He LEFT BEFORE WE GOT FAMOUS.

'Now, if you don't mind, we have strict orders to kill anyone who comes in without the password,' War said, eagerly cocking a gun.

'Get bent, horse boy!' Pansy yelled stupidly, hexing them all into oblivion.

I was very much so impressed by her wand work. Almost...sexy in a way, how skilful she was. I wondered how skilled she was in other areas, until I realised it was PANSY PARKINSON I was thinking about.

I promptly vomited to make myself feel less foul.

If only I could scour my brain...

Only Death seemed unperturbed by this, and our best hexes fell on a very much so unaffected mythical being.

Chuckling nervously saying, 'All just a bit of fun, eh? No hard feelings, what?'

Pansy kicked him in the shins. Honestly, the girl should have been put in Gryffindor she's that stupid! There's a fine line between bravery and stupidity, and Gryffindors tend to fall off it. A lot.

She's not so bad, actually...if she lost a bit of weight, and maybe got a nose job, and maybe if she died her hair blonde...

*Kicks self viciously*

*Yelps*

WHAT ARE YOU DOING, MAN?!?!

GET A GRIP!!!

Death sighed and said AH, WELL. VOLDEMORT'S JUST A BASTARD, REALLY. GO ON IN AND KICK HIS ARSE. I'LL PROBABLY PAY HIM A VISIT LATER.

We shivered as Death disappeared, and swiftly went on our way. Lupin led us staggering and bellowing out apparently random crap.

And that's what's happened so far today. Meeting the four horsemen of the Apocalypse and lusting after Pansy Parkinson! I swear, I'm losing my mind.

How in the name of Slytherin will I get it back?

*Weeps*

I wish I had my mummy here.

Anyways, by my reckoning, it's noon, and high time for a nice refreshing nap. After all that's happened I think I truly deserve it. As long as I don't wake up with Pansy on my neck.

*Shudders*

Tinkerty-Tonk,

Draco the Exhausted