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

24^th Entry: September 20^th

I just found out that the woman I slept with, Tonks, is my cousin.

Ahem.

*Coughs*

Blaaaaargh!

YYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGGGGHHHHH!!!!!

25^th Entry: September 21^st (The Day I returned to Hogwarts)

I guess this is it then.

It's officially been two official days, but, officially, my first official quest is officially over.

*Ponders*

I don't feel any different.

My sexuality is a little more ambiguous than before, I've gone through several women, one cousin and regrettably, two men. I courted danger, I avoided mayhem and madness (i.e. Snape) and then I sat through four sickeningly sweet weddings while wearing a sailor suit. I have three new cavities just from looking at Snape in that damned dress...

*Eyes crotch tentatively*

The four happy couples had gifts for us as we left. Lupin and Hermione gave us a substantial stash of shrooms and weed. I think I fell in love with them both for that, or it could just have been the withdrawal symptoms still plaguing me. Ron and Severus gave us lots of leather items, including handbags and shoes for the ladies, and disturbingly, a whip and gimp mask for me. Pansy and Wormtail gave us each a kick up the arse. That's gratitude for you!

Mercifully, Uncle Voldie waved us off early yesterday morning after presenting us with a lurid red Ferrari. It was a thank-you gift for 'reconciling' him with Harry, thus allowing them to get married.

Yeah, I know, it still disturbs me, too...

*Shudders*

'Are ya sure ya don't want me to marry you and your two lovely ladies off?' he asked tearfully.

'I'm fairly sure there's laws against bigamy, Voldie,' I protested.

'Oh, well. Safe home, ya hear?' Voldie said tearfully, pinching my rear as I got into the car.

'You bet,' I replied with a merry wink. 'I still have these two pretty kitties to get home.'

And despite the fact that I only had two girls left, and my fortune cookie had said I would have to choose one and be faithful to her forever...I have to admit that the only celibacy I know is the one who sang the theme from Goldfinger. This was further proven when Blaise came out with a chilling revelation.

'D'you know what, Draco?' she asked drunkenly.

'What?' I replied, equally as drunk.

'I'm a hermaphrodite,' she confessed.

I blinked once or twice, shrugged and said cheerfully, 'Ah, you're still hot! And it explains a lot...'

The night passed uneventfully, but I was far too stoned and drunk to write anything comprehensible. This morning, I was pretty much in the same state, but there was nothing constructive I could do about it.

We all leaped into the car and sped along, crashing through gates, hedges and flocks of sheep until we found the road again. We soon cam across a picnic spot and realised we were hungry.

'D'you wanna stop?' Ginny asked, still stoned on the weed Lupin gave us.

'Why not?' I replied, pulling over and flattening three pre-schoolers as I did so. (Yeah...my driving kinda needs a little work. At least I'll never be a chauffeur.)

There were eight people seated at one of the tables, thoroughly enjoying what looked like a corking tea party.

'Hey, look!' Ginny giggled. 'It's the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse!'

'And Bob!' Blaise chimed in.

'Cool!' I cheered.

'Hey there, guys!' Bob said cheerfully.

'CHANGE PLACES!' someone yelled, and there was a great amount of rushing about.

When it settled down, we began chatting with the Horsemen again.

HOW DID THE QUEST GO? Death asked.

'It didn't,' I replied.

AH WELL. CARE FOR A CUP OF TEA?

I regarded the other three at the table. There was some nutter wearing a top hat and dribbling all over his waistcoat, which on closer inspection turned out to be live weasels tied together. There was also a giant hare, his eyes manic and wide with foam trickling from his mouth. Between them, however, was a slim blonde woman with Muggle currency spilling from her pockets.

'FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, HELP ME!!' she yelled. 'I CREATED YOU ALL! I KNOW MAGIC IS REAL! HOLY SHIT, JUST PLEASE HELP ME! MY NAME IS J.K...'

We shook our heads at the pitiful sight and piled into the car.

AH, WILL YOU NOT STAY AND HAVE A CUP OF TEA? Death called after us.

'No way!' I replied. 'Not with that nutter up there!'

I HAVE AN APPOINTMENT WITH HER SHORTLY. ARE YOU SURE YOU WON'T STICK AROUND?

I shuddered. 'No thanks,' I replied gratefully. 'I'm afraid whatever she has might be catching.'

With that witty riposte, we sped off into the sunset.

We only stopped to attend a Bonnie Tyler concert, and given the fact that we were all high on shrooms this is understandable, and completely defensible. (Reminds me painfully of Voldie and Harry's wedding, though, because at the reception Voldemort burst into that ghastly song Holding Out For A Hero while smooching Potter. *Shudders*)

Anyway, by the time we reached Hogwarts, Dumbledore was being carted off to the loony bin, with Luna Lovegood in tow. Students were gathered at the front door, in varying states of helpless giggling.

'I WON'T GO ALONE!' he screamed.

'HEEEEEEEELP MEEEEEEEEE, OH CRUMPLE HORNED SNORLACK!' Luna wailed.

'And to think we could have missed this!' I said with a happy sigh.

Professor McGonagall came to the door and said, 'Children, I am sorry to say that due to the disappearance of Severus Snape, and the disappearance of Dumbledore's sanity...the school will be forced to close.'

A mighty cheer erupted, and the girls and I leaped into the car again before she had even finished speaking. 'Bye then!' we yelled, and drove off into the sunset.

When I finally reached home with my little harem, I parked the car on the lawn and strolled into the house, my arms about my girls. Then, to my surprise, my father left the drawing room to welcome me home.

'What the hell are you doing here?' I asked. 'I thought you were in the loony bin!'

'I have been cured,' Daddy explained. 'I am now converted to the path of righteousness.'

'I swear, if I hear that once more this century, I will puke...' I muttered. 'Girls, go to the car and get me my stash would you please?'

I watched the girls wiggle their way out of the room and turned back to my Dad.

'Where were you anyway?' Daddy demanded.

'It's a tale long in the telling,' I said, pulling out my journal.

'Then save it!' Daddy snarled.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eventually, I managed to make him listen, but to prevent tediousness, I have used the pleasant squiggly line above to represent some fifteen minutes of struggling, wailing, flagellation, foul language, senseless violence and vicious beating.

After which time, my daddy was a picture of co-operation and admiration.

He gasped at all the appropriate parts, giggled at the inappropriate ones (you know what I mean!) and yelled out, 'GOOD MAN!' every time I read out a bit where I got laid. Eventually, I closed my journal and said, 'And that's the way it happened, father.'

Daddy gasped and said, 'Wow!! Really Draco?'

I became aggravated.

'Yes, Daddy, it is,' I said. 'Why? Are you calling me a liar? HUH!?'

Daddy began to gibber. 'No, Draco! No!!'

'YOU ARE!' I yelled.

'NO, DRACO!! NOOOOO!!!' Daddy howled in terror.

Next thing you know...

*BOOM*

Thanks to my temper and my uncontrollable young wizarding powers, Malfoy Manor is unfortunately no more, as are my parents and my thoroughly debauched cousin Tonks. But that's why insurance money is so much fun. I've inherited Daddy's legendary collection of leather pants, and Mummy's collection of whips.

*GIANT GRIN*

I'm moving away to New York with my two girls as soon as the galleons come through. (They were spared because they were making out in my Ferrari, and were far away from the explosion. Oh, man, if only I could've seen it!!)

Still, poor mummy and daddy... *sniffsniffboohoosniff* and all that jazz.

*YAWN*

I suppose it was a kind of vengeance against them both, too. You see, there's an important thing about writing your own journal. Working on it makes you retarded. Brutally so.

My psychiatrist said to my mother, 'Yeeeeesss... here's his problem; he's retarded. Take him home and he should sleep it off. If that doesn't work, he should be sectioned immediately under the Public Health and Safety Act.'

Can you believe him? Fortunately for me, my psychiatrist has mysteriously vanished into oblivion, leaving no trace or clues behind as to his current whereabouts. The poor dear! How awful! And he was so close to curing me, too!

*Twitches*

What? Don't look at me like that...

Anyway, this means no more journal writing.

Whoop-de-doo! Yay! Shit fuck god in hell.

I'm so happy you enjoyed this. And this entry was just to prove that I really could write. I still have to sign this crap, and sign an affidavit that I hold my psychiatrist in no way responsible for any misdiagnosis...and also sign a document that asserts that I have no notion of what happened to my therapist.

Tinkerty-Tonk, for the final time...

Draco the Magnificent

P.S. If you've read this far without forking over money for the pleasure of finding out all about my sordid life of debauchery, alcohol and hard drugs, you are a dirty, rotten thief!

But if you sign your name, and leave a comment, I promise I will get back to you. If you are good-looking, I may have to debauch you as payment. If you are ugly, I will accept money. If you are a man...put a bag over your head, and send your rear this way, preferably in a leather g-string!

In the meantime...we'll always have my immortal phrase...

Tinkerty-Tonk.