The Extremely Secret Secrets of a Malfoy

Dear diary,

Terribly sorry I haven't written for a while, I've been...busy. It is about day 25. About halfway through the holidays. I have been doing pretty much the same thing for the last week. With the mudblood. Use your imagination. Though don't get too carried away. It hasn't got that far, though - well, I'll just leave it there. Anyhow, I'm going to play Quidditch with Alex. And that isn't a euphemism, okay?

I wish.

I'll be back!

I think I need to repeat this conversation. It isn't good. Nonononono.

"Draco?"

"Yes?"

"Are we really playing Quidditch?"

"What does it look like? Gobstones?"

"I meant, are we playing Quidditch?"

"You idiot, you just asked that question!"

"Oh, Draco, you know what I mean."

"Very well, yes, we are playing Quidditch. Though I would have thought you'd have been able to figure that out."

"What I meant is are we really playing Quidditch, or is it a really bizarre dream."

"My dreams usually involve naked women," I said with an evil wink. "So at a guess I'd stick with my first answer. Unless you want to take your clothes off?"

"Draco, I love you."

Oh god. Me too.

I'm in deeper than I thought.

Dear diary,

Day thirty-something in someplace that isn't purgatory but isn't really any better. In fact, it's the uncharted areas of angst and misery. Bugger it all. Bugger, bugger, bugger.

There is no way on earth I can keep this bloody going. It really only ever was a bit of fun, but I know girls, she'll get all soppy and serious. And the whole "me too" thing was just shock talking. And she is a mudblood.

I really should have seen it happening. I knew mum was right - They are lower than animals, foul, stinking, polluting and corrupting, and deserve to be exterminated like the vermin they are. Those exact words are true. All this time she was just being an evil scheming mudblood, of course she was, it's not my fault that I like her so much. It's all her, bloody hell, and I really have to get rid of her. I hate her, I do, so so much. Definitely. Slimy, dirty, "good," "caring," bewitching polluting corrupting mudblood.

Bloody, bloody, bloody hell.

Dear diary. Day I ditch the slimy horrible mudblood. Just thinking about it makes me want to kick something, preferably her. Yeah. Will be right back.

She was swimming in the lake, a very cruel occupation for me, as she had a far-too-revealing bikini on. I swam out too.

"There isn't anything in this lake, is there?"

I was glad to see her.

"Only grindylows. They're harmless."

"Harmless?"

"They're too scared of my dad to attack. He used to go on grindylow hunts."

I had completely forgotten why I was here. Did she have me under a spell? Love potions? She was getting far too close to me. Far too close. Literally, now. Too close. This was impossible. A million sinful and blasphemous expletives came to mind.

"Hang on a second, this is going too far. This is way beyond a bit of fun and that's all I wanted so get off."

"What?"

"You heard. This is totally ridiculous. You'll start thinking there is something between us when there isn't, and you'll be a pain and cry and make things difficult." That was better, blame her. It was her fault, after all. All her fault, the stupid mudblood.

"What?"

"I don't want this to get out of hand, okay? You'll be all girly and think about stuff like love and it'll be all very tiresome. So you can go now. And stay off my estate too."

"Don't worry, I wouldn't want to be within ten miles of you. I will never set foot on your precious bloody estate again. Or your tree or your lake or your Quidditch pitch. Goodbye."

"Fine by me," I said casually. It was not fine at all, and I felt agonised as she gave me a long last look and stormed off.

Bloody, bloody, bloody, bloody, bloody mudblood. This was all her fault. I should have listened to my parents, not her stupid crap about friends and evidence. I should never have trusted her; look what she's done, polluted my head like Mum said. Oh, hell. I think I am going to inflict my annoyance on some house elves or antique furniture. Or write so hard in this diary that it rips holes in the parchment. But there is a limit to the amount of bloody hells I can write on a page, and my arm hurts. Bloody, bloody, bloody...

Dear diary,

Day 20 in what I'm quite sure now is hell, though no signs of Barney, and I could do with a bit of heavy metal to cheer me up.

I feel better now after reducto-ing flies into little piles of dust and smashing nearly everything in my room. Funnily enough, I stomped into the house in a furious mood yesterday, and the house elves all scattered. I cannot find a single one. They have got better at hiding.

Mother talking at breakfast about inviting Pansy over. I said no, do I have to have her over, I don't even like her. To which Mother said:

"But sweetums, Pansy is such a sweet girl, so nice and a pureblood and very suitable."

"But she is pig ugly and can be very boring and I don't really care whether she's suitable or not."

"But honey..." her voice was gradually getting sweeter and sweeter and I was rather disconcertingly reminded of Umbridge, the darling frog woman, moving in for the kill. I wonder whether she really was part toad. I wouldn't be too surprised. Mind you, she was great for a laugh, usually at Potter's expense. Pity she's gone. But back to the conversation.

"Don't you think it is important to keep her happy? I mean...she is the best candidate for marriage."

"I never said she wasn't, but I don't like her and I want someone else."

"Draco, darling, I really think you should invite her! Who else did you have in mind?" I noticed this question was rather sharp. I should have known.

"Blaise?" I shrugged. She narrowed her eyes.

"I see. But what would your ideal girl be like, Draco honey?" her voice was back to an almost-forced normal, so I shrugged again. And answered honestly, silly me. No, stupid stupid Gryffindorish me. I didn't have anyone in mind at the time, but...

"Fair hair. Pretty. Tallish. Fit. Nice body. Good at Quidditch. Smart. Brown eyes."

"I see." Her voice sounded alarmingly wavering. "Pansy has fair hair and she's tallish and she is quite athletic, and if you catch her in the right light she can be quite attractive..."

"Yeah, in pitch black maybe."

"Listen, honey, I have already sent the owl and she is coming and you will be very nice to her and you will marry her, okay darling! I do not want you...fraternising...with that filthy mudblood girl!" her voice was wailing and I sensed possible teetering on the edge of hysterics. Which would be good, as she could be deemed mad and I could seize the family fortune...but that wasn't my priority at the second, unusually. Uh-oh, I thought. Oh, damn the world hell. Why couldn't life be a bit easier? This mudblood was making everything a pain.

"I saw you playing Quidditch, honey. I'm so - disappointed!" She looked tearful. I was getting bored of her, by now.

"So what if I'm fraternising? I've been bored and she can play Quidditch! If you didn't keep me stuck here for so long with nothing to do, I wouldn't have to reduce myself to being friends with mudbloods! If you paid me some attention!" Wail, wail, sob, sob, etc.

"I also saw you together - in the lake. And - on the grounds. I understand that you are a teenager, and at this time you are...interested in girls. Obviously you have had a lot of pent-up hormones, and that is why I am sending the mudblood away and bringing a suitable girl to - consort with." She was talking sweetly again, changing moods far too rapidly to be sane. Oh, this was too gross. And purr-lease, hormones? It is way more than that, I thought. Then I thought - bloody hell, did I just think that? Then I thought - bloody hell, sending her away? Then I reminded myself I didn't care. Not at all. I'd got rid of her. And mum was right about the hormones, of course she was. I'd said so myself, ages ago. Mum was right.

"Yeah, right, that's it. But you needn't worry, mum, it's all finished, I didn't actually care about her anyway, it was just fun. She was crying her eyes out though," I added in a casual drawl. But a tiny voice said, who the hell are you kidding. It wasn't a question, as I knew the answer. Everyone except myself. Bugger.

"Oh, sweetie, I don't want your head to be filled with that little brat's ridiculous ideas. Promise me you'll get any filthy thoughts she's given you out of your head." She put an arm round me and kissed my head, but I pushed her away. Something suddenly occurred to me. This mudblood was polluting my mind - and? What will happen if I become a mudblood lover and be friends with Potter and do everything my parents tell me not to? Not that that will happen, I'm not saying that's what I want, but - I wouldn't be struck by lightning or die a horrible death if I did, would I? If that was going to happen, then Dumbledore and all his little hero-worshippers would be long gone, and the world would generally be a better place. The only bad thing that I can foresee is - I'd become substantially poorer. But in three years - I can do whatever I want and until then I can just keep Mum in the dark 'til then. So who gives a stuff? I like her and she's fun and she likes me and there aren't any real consequences as long as I keep my parents pacified. All this pureblood importance, all through my life - no one had ever supplied me a really satisfactory reason to agree with it. I do believe it, in general, but... Then I remembered what I'd said to her. And realised what she'd think. Damn.

But mum was still looking anxious. I rolled my eyes.

"Mu-um, I never listened to her crap anyway. And I don't like mudbloods, I was just using her. And I'll be nice to Pansy if it makes you happy. I was just - bored of it all. I wanted some fun. And maybe a bit of a life for once. Not making all these stupid plans for carrying on the Malfoy line. There's loads of time to do that, right? And I really would rather have Blaise." Mum looked slightly pacified. I felt slightly nauseous.

I went up to my room, wrote this, reread it, then thought and said a lot of bloody hells and got on my broomstick and flew to the cottage. I felt like I should explain what happened. She was bound to think I sent them away. I don't like this emotional stuff, you know. Being out of control. Disengaging my reason. I hate it. Bloody stupid.

There was a car parked in the field right outside the door, with the boot open and boxes round it. I walked the last few yards and listened to the conversation Mr and Mrs Smith were having the other side of the car. Its an instinctive Malfoy reaction to eavesdrop.

"We should have known when Alex told us who they were. They could have done anything to us, burnt the house down while we were asleep. We've never been welcome."

"And if I ever get my hands on that brat, I'll strangle him, wizard or not." I stepped in at that point.

"Strangle away. And, burn the house down? Ooh, house full of muggles burns down on the estate of the infamous Lucius Malfoy, murderer, Death Eater and well-known muggle-hater. Tad suspicious, don't you think?"

Mr Smith looked like he was having a coronary, and Mrs Smith jumped a mile. They both stared at my hands in my pockets, so I took them out. They flinched, still looking furious. I waggled my fingers, showing them my empty hands.

"No wand, see? Yes, that's right, good muggles. I Promise I won't hex you. I want to talk to Alex."

"Aren't you content with having her in tears? Or hurting her?"

"In tears?"

Blimey, no one has cried over me before. It was a satisfying feeling, until I realised how much she must hate me now. And I wanted to apologise, which is incredible, as I've never really apologised to anyone.

"Yes, and you can go right now. She is never seeing you again. Magic or not, I'll make sure of it."

"You aren't doing a great job of it, are you?" I pointed out. Alex was standing in the doorway.

"What do you want?" she asked in a painfully hostile way. "Say it and go away."

My first thought was um... what did I want again? I'd forgotten. And I was feeling extremely uncomfortable being glared at by the whole family. Well, Alex wasn't glaring, but she was staring unblinkingly.

"Well, for a start, it wasn't me who got you kicked out. I just wanted to tell you that, because I knew you'd think that."

"Then who did?" she said coldly. "And why are you telling me? It's your fault we're out, either way."

"Not really. Mum saw us playing Quidditch."

"And? Oh, I s'pose she told you to say all that stuff too, and it's all her fault. How can I believe you?"

"Well, actually, the stuff I said was original and authentic Me, patent and copyright, and it's none of it her fault. But I don't mean any of it. And - I'm sorry. And incidentally, I've never ever apologised to anyone before. Or at least, I've never meant it. So..." Her face was blank.

"And that makes a difference? " she asked, like the exasperating mudblood she is.

"Yes! I - don't - apologise!" I snapped, quite forgetting this was an apology. "But I just apologised to you. Doesn't that tell you something?"

Mrs Smith made an angry noise. Alex ignored it and said:

"Well, no, not really. Except the fact you are seriously emotionally deficient. Why don't you just say what it's supposed to be telling me?"

"Because that's not how I work."

"Well that isn't good enough."

"For Christ's sake, have you got even the slightest clue how much of a big deal this is for me?"

"Well, maybe it's a big deal for me too," she said. Mrs Smith carried on her angry noises. I expect it's a muggle thing.

"Fine," I said, making a faint attempt at explaining something utterly beyond my comprehension, "I really like you and...hell, you know what you said at the lake? You know, 'You scare me,' and all that? It's like that, only scratch out the 'arsehole' and fit in 'mudblood.'"

She laughed. But I was remembering what else happened at the lake, and thinking it might be a good idea. Although Mr Smith might explode with apoplexy. But I was a Malfoy. We do that gorgeous bastard thing well.

She didn't slap me, though that might have been because I put my hand round her wrist when she tried to. Just the one wrist, she still could have hit me with her left hand, but then again, it happened to be round my neck, so maybe not.

"Get your hands off my daughter!" said Mr Smith in considerable irritation. I smirked and said, "Tell her that."

I winked, and grinned at their expressions. Oh, this was too fun; I love being a nasty git.

"You are a bastard," complimented Alex.

"So you keep telling me."

"And you aren't that good a kisser. You are really arrogant if you think I'm going to overlook your faults just because of that."

"Why not? Worked when you did it." Mrs Smith made an outraged noise.

"Oh, shut up," she said, to me not her mother.

"Listen. I dunno quite what I came here for, except to apologise. I've done that, and I can't think of anything else to do apart from that. So bye, and I'm sorry you have to go, I did try but mum won't budge. She's usually as soft as anything, but not this time. Muggle-hatred was big in her family. And I mean big. Her mother campaigned for muggle extermination, her sister is Bellatrix Lestrange so you can guess what she was she was like, and her father was a truly pathetic and cowering wreck who agreed with everything his nutty wife said. Luckily she is now very dead, as I told you. The whole Black family is or was mad, so think yourself lucky mum is one of the exceptions, else you'd all be dead."

"Draco, you are one seriously twisted family."

"It's not so bad really."

"You really need to spend some time in a real family. Then maybe you'd see."

"Got any real families in mind?" I asked slyly. Mr Smith interrupted at this point.

"No. Certainly not. You will never be welcome under our roof."

"I'll just have to stay outside then, won't I?" said Alex. Brilliant! But hang on...she was going. Damn.

"Alex, go inside and carry on packing now. We are going back to France, where you will not see this boy again, and good riddance."

"But..." she trailed off, staring in amazement at a point above my shoulder. I had a terrible sense of foreboding. I looked around, and saw - with considerable surprise - my mother. Looking tearfully incensed and clutching a handkerchief to her mouth. She looked slightly out of it, and I wondered about sleeping potions and what else she'd taken. I didn't like her like this. She'd better snap out of it.

"Okay, maybe I was wrong about mum being an exception," I muttered. Alex snorted into her hand, thinking I was joking.

"What are you doing, Draco dear?"

"Saying goodbye. "

"No you are not, you are coming with me this instant to welcome Pansy."

"Who's Pansy?" enquired Mr Smith quickly, looking pointedly at his daughter.

"His girlfriend," said Mother, also looking pointedly at her. I rolled my eyes. "Didn't you know he had a girlfriend?" mum continued smugly. Mrs Smith made another irate noise.

"Yes I did, funnily enough," said Alex casually. Now Mrs Smith made an incredulous one.

"You knew he was with you at the same time?" Mr Smith was looking at his daughter in horror. Mum looked as if her suspicions of dirtiness and corruption were confirmed. I took up the conversation.

"Bit of a slut, isn't she? Though actually, it's not like that. Pansy is just a future wife." Mrs Smith made another furious noise. Alex hit her head with her hand, for some reason.

"What he means is he doesn't really care about her, he's only going out with her because she'd make a good pureblood heir and is suitable. They'll never actually care about each other."

"But I think Pansy hasn't realised that yet, which is why I should really dump her for Blaise. And I want pretty children. And she's got a fairly good ancestry." Mrs Smith choked on her next irate noise. Mum looked proud, and nodded.

"But anyway, we are packed and we will go now. Here is your rent, Mrs Malfoy. Come on Alex. I can't say I'll miss this place."

"It's been the worst holiday ever."

But Alex got in the car, smiling at me with a glint in her eye. I'll keep in touch, she mouthed. I was quite annoyed to see her go after all this, but oh well. I turned to mother, sighing.

"Come on then, let's meet Pansy."

And I flew home, reflecting it had been the most - interesting - summer I'd ever had. In my favourite words - bloody hell.