Slug Six -- A Spider In The Web

SLUG SIX- A SPIDER IN THE WEB

17^th July

Ah, sweet silence of the Potter-free hours. I am hiding in my room from the torturous sunlight that should not, by any right, be interrupting the rain. July means very little in London.

My job is dull, my house is Potter's. I have nothing really to call my own, except all my posh clothes and memories.

Where is Potter? I hear you ask. I don't know. Probably somewhere gay. I obviously have no knowledge of these places, and thus could give you no accurate estimate as to his precise whereabouts.

It has come to scare me how much I like him. It is inconceivable that I once tried to kill him every day, but I'm older and wiser and far, far more handsome, so I suppose I have progressed. I dumped Hermione, by the way. She was a swot, and she earned more money than me in her job as a nurse. I can't be doing with that.

I know, I know. I was relieved too.

So I bit down on the bullet of loneliness, and went out to get drunk. Anything can be solved by a few hundred Bloody Marys. Don't tell anyone in authority that I told you that. They're trying to persuade people that it's much better to be a teetotaller, celibate, frigid prude who never has any fun and sits at home all night with a baseball bat, ready to fend off terrorists and burglars, when really the burglars are the ones who are out there having all the fun because the government never tells them to stay home unless it's offering them free CDs for NOT spraying naughty words on walls whereas most of us, who never do anyway, don't get anything free at all, not even time. Thank you.

Anyway, I dumped Granger. Yes. That's where I was. I dumped Granger, and photocopied my bottom at an office party and mailed it to Her. I don't think it was MY office, but I went down a storm with all the ladies there. I think I've got myself a nice party neighbourhood. They were Muggles, though. That's where I found out about photocopiers. They're brilliant! You just sit down and press the button! It doesn't seem like a very useful thing to have in an office, though. Who needs to photocopy their bottoms all day? It should be hired out, that way they could make more money. I should share my ideas.

Uh oh. Just turned around and saw own bottom and miscellaneous others leering out at me from the wall behind my bed. That's not good. I have about ten bottoms on my wall, and Potter said he'd be home any minute. Oh dear. He could well get the wrong idea. I'd better roll them up and stick them in his room, except for my own portrait of course, and pretend I'm too hungover to talk to him.

Ah, so THAT'S where the little weasel was! He was out shopping! He won't let me go shopping anymore. Not after what happened last time. I'm sure you recall. I can still taste those Wagon Wheels in the dark of midnight. Ugh. The Kit Kats weren't so bad. I got used to them after a while, but the Wagon Wheels, never. Never again.

Harry Potter, I mean, bought me a lovely big bottle of whisky to calm my head down. Then he went into his room to put his girly hair care products away and squealed with delight at the little present I gave him. Knowing him, he probably recognised a few of them. No taste, that boy. He'll dally with Muggles and all. If I was gay, if, I would at least pick decent people.

Not though.

Far from it.

19^th July

Run for your lives! The Demon Spawn of Hell has been released!!! It's running around our flat right now!

I should explain.

The Demon Spawn Of Hell is my cousin Robert, or Robbie. He's ten years old, and evil. There's no other way to put it. He's the son of my Auntie Maleficent and Uncle Caesar. Doesn't sound right, does it? Maleficent, Caesar and Robbie.

Yes, Maleficent was the one who was going to marry my father but she ran off with his brother the night before the wedding. Uncle Caesar is a bit of an idiot, but he's harmless enough. Auntie Mally, as I like to call her, is about as charming as they get. Robbie, however, is DSOH. Demon Spawn Of Hell. Lucius, Narcissa, Maleficent, Caesar, Draco and Robbie. Very in keeping with all our lovely normal names. Call us all picky, but only Uncle Caesar likes the name. Not even Mally likes it. She tried to kill the boy when he first appeared, but those meddling nurses stopped her. Pesky NHS.

Father's been classified as normal again, and has been released. He got a little angry when he discovered Mother's affair with Flitwick, but he's recovered. Mother's still in a coma, and they say that Flitwick will never be the same again. Shame.

What? I clearly mean it! Fullest remorse and all that! Stop looking at me.

Oh yeah, explaining.

Well, DSOH is in our house to stay for the week. Why? Mally and Caesar are cruising the Caribbean and don't want the temptation of leaving DSOH on an island somewhere to grow up like Mowgli. Dad's too deranged to have him to stay, and might accidentally feed the creature, or give it a bed to sleep in. My bed, perish the thought.

Now Potter's on a camp bed in my room, and DSOH is in his room. Potter refused to 'maltreat' the boy, so he has been made comfortable. I hope so, at least. He's going to be in there all week. I padlocked the door.

No, it isn't evil. It's standard behaviour in our family. No one likes DSOH. Not even his father. Mind you, that's nothing Malfoy-new. My father detested me until I told him I was the emissary to the people of Eggplant Planet. Now he entrusts me with all his secrets. Keeps asking me where 'Carrot Brigade Captain' is. I know the answer. She's sleeping with Snape right now, dad. Yes, I'm crushed. No, I'm not going to do anything about it. It's out of my hands.

DSOH is demanding food. I have to go.

26^th July

Sorry, I've been too busy to write over the past week. DSOH is gone, thank god. He was looking very manic when we let him out, but that's okay. As long as he's burning off any energy that might help his heart beat at the crucial moment, it's okay with me. His mania terrified poor Potter, so he's hiding in my room. Potter, not DSOH. I would have thought that was very clear. DSOH is in a cage in Auntie Mally's car, heading home to Dorset.

Stupid old you. Why DO I put up with you, huh?

Potter and I are going out for a meal to celebrate. I only have an hour or two before we leave, and I need to shower. See you later.

Midnight, or so.

Ugh. Ugh bloody ugh can someone please tell me who invented sick and I will personally kill him (or her. Must maintain appearance of caring at all times) I am so drunk and full and very, very sick and I think I've done something I probably shouldn't have done.

Relating to Potter, you understand.

We went somewhere posh, and ate posh food, and drank posh wine, a LOT of posh wine, then we went somewhere else that I have neglected to remember in my drink clouded-haze. I don't know what happened, but Potter has an alarming smile on his pissed little face, and I'm getting worried. What did I do?

27^th July

I'm sure there's some basis on which I can sue someone for telling me there is a god, when there's still such things as hangovers. It's all a lie, and I've uncovered the reason. Drink is sin, why do we still have it? Murder is sin, why do we still have the capability? Because it's fun. Sinning is fun and there's no denying. Essentially, in that case, god is frigid, and there are no two ways about it, and no one likes a prude.

Humph. I rest my shaky case.

Anyway, I'm hungover, and dying of it. I think my head is imploding, and my guts feel like someone with a very big fork is whisking my innards. NOT a pleasant feeling, I assure you. I have an ice pack on my forehead, and Potter is waiting on me. He has recently decided that he won't drink much, so he was on mineral water for most of the night apparently. I wouldn't know. I drank enough to fuel an army. The point is that he isn't feeling like this. I think it must be another plan of the government: make teetotallers not have the nasty effects and thus persuade the rest of us to begin our lives of miserable repentance.

Bollocks.

I say, and bollocks once more. Hah.

Potter offered back rub. I declined politely. I don't think I want him to get any ideas, if you know what I mean. He just LOOKS at me and gets horny. Imagine if he actually got to touch me. Icky thought. Ugh.

30^th July

Went home today for a dinner party. All my known family were there except for DSOH who was chained up in the dungeons. I shall list them for your benefit, and to keep my mind off what happened there.

Auntie Mally - Mad. Wife to brother of father.

Uncle Caesar - Mad but generally harmless. Brother of father.

Lucius - Criminally insane. Father.

Narcissa - Just a plain old run-of-the-mill imbecile. Mother.

Robbie (DSOH) - Cousin. Son of Mally and Caesar. Criminally insane at tender age of ten.

Uncle Maynard - Stuck up but amusing to mock. Older brother of mother.

Auntie Lourdes - Fanatically Catholic. Wife to Maynard.

Grandma Malvina - Senile old bat. Maternal Grandmother.

Grandpa Windsor - Senile, demented ex-Death Eater. Maternal Grandfather.

Mother Hortense - Sharp, unpleasant old woman. (You've guessed it) Paternal Grandmother.

Lord Islwyn - Potty. Paternal Grandfather.

Larissa - Ugly. Unmarried sister to mother.

Waldo - Very, very, very old. Brother to Windsor.

Terence and Theobald - Demented twin brothers. Elder siblings of Father.

Olga - Terrifyingly ugly cousin. Daughter of Maynard and Lourdes.

Manfred - Murderer. Brother to Olga. Favourite cousin, actually.

Justus - Incurably evil. Son of unmarried Terence.

Rowland - No relation to self whatsoever. Can't tell why he was there or who he was. Possibly boyfriend of bestial Larissa.

Oddly, Flitwick was not in attendance. Manfred was looking a little bloody, maybe father disposed of Flitwick in advance. Oddly, father approves of Manfred. He's the only one father does like on mother's side, but he picked a good 'un. Manfred's my favourite, too.

It was a tragedy, to put it simply. My family had no objections to Potter, oddly enough. In fact, Grandma Malvina was incredibly taken with him. She sat between him and Lourdes, whom Waldo had his eyes on, much to her dismay, and flirted with Potter all throughout the meal. He looked quite ill. Lourdes refused to look at Waldo, and buttoned her dress right up to the neck. Waldo was busy being a dirty old bastard, and didn't notice.

My father's family, as a rule, disapprove of my mother's family, the Wilmots, and in most cases, Wilmots were next to Malfoys. This is far from being a good position.

Waldo soon turned his attention to Caesar, on his other side. They got into a heated debate that resulted in Waldo drawing a knife on the poor idiot Caesar and threatening to gut him. Theobald, next to Caesar, joined in, saying that he would fight to the death for the family honour. Justus attempted to restrain his uncle, but Manfred muttered 'Kill him. See if anyone cares.' I, on Manfred's right, laughed and clapped him on the back, receiving dark looks from the Malfoys. I shut up. My father banged his hand on the table and restored order with the manic gleam in his eyes.

'We will have silence!' he barked. We all fell quiet and ate looking down at our plates for a while, then Malvina started on poor old Harry again and chaos was restored.

Mother was looking down her pretty little nose at the Ugly Olga. Mum has never been too fond of her niece. Can't imagine why. Terence made a snide comment about Olga, and mum laughed. The two are almost inseparable now. I think dad's worried that the Mally affair will happen all over again. Although I can't see why he's so scared. Terence is the ugliest Malfoy by far. He's got all the worst bits. He's got dad's spiky eyebrows, Caesar's hairy nostrils, Theobald's bad breath, Hortense's odd triangular head and my hair which, although beautiful on me, serves to make him look like he poured white paint on his head. Mum would never go for that.

Auntie Mally hates Terence too. She was on his other side, and she spent the entire time scowling at him, her lovely purple skin creased into a look of utter loathing. She ignored Hortense, her other companion, to the point that Hortense threw a glass of wine in her face. Maynard sat there laughing at them, and Larissa looked shocked. Mother-in-laws can, it seems, be highly unpleasant at times. Windsor, beside Larissa, gave the foul looking woman a shake and a hearty laugh.

'Come on girl! Buck up! A Malfoy just got splashed in the face!'

Islwyn did not look impressed. He picked up a candelabra and smacked Windsor over the head with it. It all deteriorated from that point in, so I grabbed Potter and ran out through the patio doors. We strolled down to the fountain and sat on the edge.

'You look a little disturbed,' I said lightly to Potter.

'To think I wondered where you got your personality from!' he grinned. 'I thought you were going to be the worst.'

'Ah, well I can be,' I said. 'Hortense has got to be the worst over all though.'

We laughed, then he grabbed hold of me and kissed me.

I know what you all want to hear, it was like nothing I've ever felt before, I was dying of instantaneous love... not likely. It was like kissing a girl except slightly hairier. It was nice, yes. I don't deny that, and I was looking for a release. I kissed him back. We were grappling passionately on the wall by the fountain when Harry's glasses fell off. I reached out for them without thinking, lost balance and toppled. I grabbed onto Potter, who still hadn't stopped kissing me, and we both fell in the water.

I came up underneath one of the spouting fish and stood there with a torrent of water running down my neck, gasping for breath, spitting out water. Potter was on his knees, looking for his glasses in the water. I knelt down to help him, trying not to shiver, and he looked up at me. He grinned and blushed, then pulled his glasses up.

I sat back on my heels and grinned, then I sniggered, then I giggled, then I laughed. We were both laughing hysterically, and then he grabbed me again. I probably sprayed water all over his face in surprise, but he didn't mind. He was clutching my arms and it really hurt, but I ignored it. Water was going up my nose, as he had tipped me back. His hair was in my eyes, and his knee was digging into my leg, at least I think it was his knee. I'm not sure.

When he was done he dropped me by accident into the pond. I squealed like a little girl, and he pulled me out.

'What was that for?' I choked, dragging myself onto the wall.

'I couldn't resist you in that wet shirt,' he explained sheepishly, obviously missing my point.

We escaped the grounds of the Manor with great difficulty, and Apparated home. I went to put on some dry clothes, mind still reeling a little, but Potter interrupted in the hopping-around-the-room-with-boxers-on-and-only-one-leg-in-trousers stage. He laughed at me, and pulled on my arm. I gave up on the trousers and kicked them back into my room. Potter wasn't wearing much either, but I didn't really notice. I don't fancy him, I just like him and like kissing him. His physical appearance is nothing to get excited about. I'm the body of the relationship.

We kissed some more on the sofa, and I can almost hear the whoops of delight coming from over there. Hey! Who said you could listen in to this bit?

This doesn't mean I'm gay, you know. Me being in Potter's bed doesn't mean that I'm gay. It means that I like Potter in a more pronounced way. I don't really like any other guys. The crème de la crème of the stuff he brought in did nothinfor me. I only like him out of the male gender. All the others are just guys. Ugh. I'm making it sound meaningful.

3^rd August

I sent Ginny my usual letter in which I regularly grovel and beg for her to come back to me, but this time I didn't. I told her all that I had been doing, and that I was now with Harry. She turned up at our door the next day.

'WHAT?' she stormed, the moment I opened the door, tie half done, shirt almost buttoned, flies undone and coffee cup in hand. My standard morning state.

'What what?' I asked groggily, standing aside as she pushed her way into the flat. She dropped her bag on the sofa, and spun back to face me.

'What?' she repeated.

'What what?' I said again, putting my cup down and finishing the buttons on my shirt.

'What is this?' she demanded, pulling my letter out of her bag.

'A letter,' I told her, zipping up my flies and retrieving my cup.

'From whom?' she hissed.

'Me,' I answered, taking a sip of my hot coffee. This could be a long conversation.

'About what?' she said dangerously.

'What I've been doing,' I shrugged, putting my cup down and started on my tie.

'What is it usually about?' she spat.

'How much I love you and want you back,' I said promptly, too engrossed in my tie to look at her.

'Why is it not about that this time?' she whispered, trying to sound menacing. Sad, really.

'Because I grew sick of that,' I said, pulling the thin end through a gap that looked suitable. 'I don't need you back. I've got someone else.'

'WHAT?' she roared, stamping her foot. She must have taken time out to come and see me. She's graduated now, by the way.

'I've got someone else,' I told her again, enunciating clearly for her.

'WHO?' she bellowed, her little face turning red.

'Potter,' I shrugged, returning attention to my tie. It didn't look right. I undid it and started over.

'POTTER?' she shrieked. You can see I'm stretching my shout-describing vocabulary. I'll need a thesaurus in a minute.

'Stop repeating everything I say,' I told her, irritated.

'STOP REPEATING EVERYTHING YOU SAY?' she screamed. 'You're straight! NOT GAY!'

'I only like Potter,' I said, offended. 'It's not like I'm dallying with every male I meet!'

'That's enough,' she scoffed. 'What about ME?'

'You married Snape,' I reminded her coldly, finally getting my tie right. I drained my coffee and picked up my suitcase, heading for the door.

'DON'T WALK AWAY FROM ME WHEN I AM TALKING TO YOU!' she boomed (ooh, good one).

'You're not talking,' I pointed out.

'Don't you love me anymore?' she whined, changing tack.

I stopped. 'I suppose I do, but the boss doesn't love me, and I'm late for work.' I shut the door and walked down the steps into the street. She was right behind me.

'What did I ever do?' she begged.

'You married my teacher, Mrs. Snape,' I told her, walking as fast as I could towards Oxford Circus. It was on my route to work, and I could hopefully lose her in the crowd.

'But we had something special,' she cried. 'I can feel it!'

'So why couldn't you feel it when we were together,' I asked shortly, looking and crossing a road. This was a painful subject for me.

'Oh I don't know!' she sobbed. 'It just isn't right, us being apart!' She grabbed onto my sleeve and looked into my eyes. 'We were made for each other,' she said sincerely.

I crossed into Regent Street and started to walk really fast. Still she kept up.

'I don't want to see you, Ginny,' I said firmly. 'You hurt me too much.'

'But I love you!' she wailed.

'And I love you, but that didn't stop you breaking my heart and running off with my teacher,' I said tightly, trying to hold back tears. I felt like a right queer at that moment.

I realized after this that it was the other way round, teacher, then heart, but that wasn't the point. Whatever the point was, at that moment I lost her in the crowd, and didn't see her again.

I wasn't very attentive at work that day, and I found it very hard to concentrate. Had I, with my pride, thrown away my last chance of being with her? That thought terrified me, and I lie awake tonight writing my diary because I can't sleep and no matter what she said to me or why she really came, her face keeps swimming to the surface of my mind like unwanted rubbish thrown into a harbor. I drew pictures, I wrote poems, I cooked, I ate some dubious pasta sauce from the jar, but nothing could get her out of my head. Her beautiful face was all I could see, and it was ravaged with tears. I woke up Potter and asked to be comforted. He understood, I'm sure. He knows how I feel about him, and I think it's enough. He doesn't mind about Ginny, because she's a part of me. A very important part of me that pumps blood around my body.

So I'm writing it all down. Don't ask me why. It has to be done. I know you don't want to hear me all moony and stuff, but I have to write this. Closure, you understand.

6^th August

Harry's getting a little bit pissed with me over my Ginny-mooning. You see, I don't care. It's not my problem. Thing is, I'm not actually gay. Well, I'm gay in the definition of the word, but I'm not gay gay. I'm in love with Ginny, much as I hate her.

Plus, she ran off with Snape, and not someone of this planet. I would back down for a Calvin Klein model, but very little else. I know how hot I am.

She is apparently staying in the hotel down the road from our crummy little flat. She knocks on the door every morning, but Potter has taped a sign to it saying 'Do NOT open this door to her! You WILL regret it!'

Doesn't he mean that he will? I'm not too bothered what he thinks, though. That's not the point.

Good sex last night, though.

Very good.

10^th August

Well, I answered the door, I'm afraid. A very angry postman stood on our doorstep and yelled something at me about waiting a week to deliver this package and calling his solicitor before hurling a parcel into my arms and storming away. He looked gay. Probably been sleeping with Potter on the side. My boyfriend's quite a legend, you know. preen, preen.

I wandered back into the flat, slightly dazed and with ears ringing. I chucked the parcel on the table and started to spread marmite on some toast before realizing that it was for me.

I spun like I was in some kind of Bruce Willis movie. The innocent looking package loomed large in my eyes, and I took a cautious frowning step towards it, snatching it up from the table top like it was a time bomb and shredding the paper in a manly way.

Go on, try to guess what fell out! I dare you!

Underpants.

Thunderbirds underpants.

Too small for me, but not by much. Maybe I've grown since the sender last saw me.

A note fell out of the neatly folded garment.

Draco Malfoy - You have been invited to come to the Masked Ball at the Ministry building on Saturday, it said. Carry these underpants with you as your pass. Come dressed as someone from a Muggle movie as part of the Racial Friendship TM program at the Ministry! Please bring a partner.

I gaped a little at the note - scared beyond all reason. Argh. Go to a masked ball at the Ministry? What had happened to Fudge this time?

Bring a partner? That meant bring Potter.

'A masked ball!' he exclaimed. 'How romantic!'

How gay.

So then he dragged me down into London to find a costume shop. He's going as Wonder Woman. You don't want to know what I'm going as.

Or do you? Sick.

Okay - Potter picked it out, not me. I'm going as...

Wait for it...

Spiderman.

Ugh.

He wanted to see me in leggings. I told him that I didn't wear leggings. Or red and blue in the same outfit, but he insisted. I wanted to go as that guy from The Matrix. That would be cool, plus I already own the outfit. But noOOoo. I had to go as Spiderman.

I hate my life.

I hate my inability to say no to Potter.

Don't hate it when he licks my neck though. Ooh. Tickly. Got to go.

12^th August

So, I, underpants in hand and Spiderman outfit concealed beneath a big coat, stepped out into the world. Wonder woman at my back and a glum expression on my face. Wedgie up my bacside and a plan of action. I would simply leave. Let Potter in, find another Spiderman, and leave. Potter would get plenty of kisses and I wouldn't have to suffer the humiliation of removing my coat.

I hoped.

As you have probably realized by now, when I hope for things, they don't happen. Especially not when Potter's involved.

We walked all the way to the Ministry and conspiratorially exposed the corner of the underpants. Potter was almost squealing with glee when we stepped through the door. He pulled his coat off and ran towards another guy dressed as Wonder woman screaming snaaaaapp!

I shuffled off to the edge somewhere, with my mask firmly pulled over my head, and took off the coat. I sat there, 'webbing' anyone who tried to come near. The time crawled by, and my belly was starting to rumble. There was no way I could last any longer without food, but the buffet table was all the way across the hall. I didn't want to expose my tightly clad buttocks in that throng with all these men dressed as Wonder woman present. I settled for clamping my hands over my own arse and running for it.

I reached the table and backed against the wall, breathing hard with relief. I sidled over to the table and began to load up a plate. There was one sausage roll plate that I couldn't reach, so I broke cover for what must have been half a second to grab it, and someone pinched my arse.

That was it. I hurled the plate at the floor and spun around furiously, screaming 'Get your bloody fucking hands OFF my arse!'

The young witch, with long red hair, who stood behind me looked absolutely distraught.

'But Draco,' she pleaded.

'Ginny?' I frowned. 'How did you know it was me, and why did you... pinch me?'

'I'd know your outline anywhere, and because I felt like it.'

'Great. Now, if you'll excuse me, Mrs. Snape, I'm trying to get some supper.' I turned stiffly away and picked up my polystyrene plate, trying to salvage what was left of my sausage rolls.

'I'll leave him for you, Draco!' she cried, clinging onto my arm.

'Why did you leave me for him, then? In fact, much as I hate the old bastard, I wouldn't want to put him through that much pain.' I sneered, but realized that she would be unable to see that through all the spandex.

'Draco!' she whined. I ignored her, and began humming the X-men tune really loud.

She grabbed the back of my mask and pulled it off completely, leaving me with bad hair, exposed, in the middle of that room.

'Now listen to me, mister!' she snapped. I turned wearily to face her. 'You are going to appreciate this, because I made a mistake, and I'm not going to let you go again!'

Part of me, I'll admit, yearned towards her. I didn't know what I wanted. Part of me, however, still wanted to punish her for what she did and is still doing to me. Then there was my cruel nature, sitting on the sidelines and observing. At some stage it interrupted the otherwise fair proceedings, with a 'Draco wouldn't let her get away with that' argument, and they backed down.

I leaned close to her, trying not to breathe in that smell that came from her hair and made me think of honey and chocolate.

'I'm gay, Gin,' I spat unpleasantly.

She looked horrified, then she began to cry. Shit. I mentally poked those three nasty little awarenesses.

How dare you! You made her cry!

Sorry boss.

Won't happen again, boss.

Very sorry.

'Gin!' I put my arms around her and she cried all over my costume. Soon Potter had to notice, and notice he did.

'Draccie!' he protested, planting his hands firmly on his hips. 'You said you were gay!'

I tried to explain, I really did, but the words just failed on my lips.

'Friends?' I asked him finally, holding out a hand to him around Ginny.

He looked at it, then looked at me, with my hair all dumb and my costume all snotty and wet. A flash of sadness and sympathy ran across his face, and he shook my hand firmly.

'Nice to have known you, Draco,' he said in a voice that verged on tears. He turned and walked out, leaving a wide path in the crowd. I huddled Ginny close to me and blew her hair gently.

'Draco?'

'Yes?'

'What was that about?'

'I think I'm suddenly straight,' I smiled. She looked up at me, her panda eyes looking out of place on her fairy costume.

'You are?' she asked, a look of sheer delight crossing her face. 'Are you single?'

I looked up at the crowd of male Wonder women clamouring to get out of the door.

'I think so,' I said.

'I think I need to visit a man named Snape,' she smiled. 'What time is it?'

'About ten,' I said, checking the clock. 'Not too late.'

'We'd better change,' she suggested, gesturing at her fairy tutu.

'Probably,' I smiled. 'Have you got spares with you?'

'In my bag.'

'Let's go back to the flat and change. I'll pack up my stuff and move back to mum's. You can come with me and we'll get cousin Manfred to kill your husband. Then you can inherit and get back together with me?' It was a question because I hardly dared believe it.

We got back here, but Potter was nowhere to be seen. A note was left on the counter, saying that he was staying with Weasley and Parkinson. We decided to stay at the flat tonight, and employ Manfred in the morning. It all got very proper after that, and I slept on the couch while Ginny had the bedroom. I'm writing this sitting at the kitchen table, because I can't sleep. I can here her breathing in the next room, and I can't get over the thought that she's so close, and mine again. I'll write tomorrow, when she'll hopefully be a widow.

15^th August

The Manor

It's a lovely day, so I'm sitting out by the lake to write my diary entry. Manfred gave me a conspiratorial nod when I asked him to do me a favour, and he left immediately without another word, not that that's anything new for Manfred. Father and mother were all pampering Ginny the last time I saw them, mother doing her hair and father telling her baby-stories of mine. They said we could have the East wing all to ourselves if we wanted, so we've accepted the offer. Ginny applied for divorce papers, just in case Manfred doesn't succeed.

Me? I'm sitting in the bright summer sunlight, fondling a little navy velvet box. In my sunglasses, it looks almost black. I know it isn't. I've spent three days clutching it to me. I don't know when I'll open it. I haven't looked since I bought it. Impulsive? Maybe, but what's that got to do with anything?

I can hear voices now. It sounds like Ginny and mother. I'll pick this up later.

Later

Well, Manfred returned and handed the house elves a large pile of bloody clothing. We received an owl for Ginny to secure her inheritance, and Snape is most definitely dead. I'm back out by the lake to watch the sunset, still alone. Still holding the little velvet box. Wait a minute, Ginny's coming.

She says that the will is all secured, and she's got quite a lot of money out of it. She's going to give most of it to my parents to pay her way in the Manor. I'm going to do it now. News later.

I turned to her and did the one-knee thing and the pleeaaase face and she burst into tears and shoved the funny little thing on her finger. When I asked why she was so happy she pushed me into the lake, but it's all joy and jubilation now. She ran into the house to get mother and send owls to all the important people. She said something about a guest list, but I don't even know what's going on. I'm just so happy that I did it without sounding too silly. Who would have thought it? Me, Draco Malfoy, proposing to a Weasley and really meaning it.

I guess it just proves that the best of us should eat our words.

3^rd December

I suppose this is what one would refer to as an epilogue. My diary coming to its end. Everything's happy, no one's alone. There might be more to say, but for now at least, Slug Diary Publishing House is closed.

The wedding's tomorrow. I'm utterly terrified, but that's alright. The invitations have gone out. We're holding the wedding in the snow out in the grounds. It's all very lovely.

Potter's coming. Oddly enough, it was me who asked for him to be there. I want to see him on my big day, because he's a part of the story that's being resolved. Granger was invited by Ginny, but I'm damned if I know why. All the Weasleys and all the Malfoys are coming. Manfred especially.

Guess who my best man is. Of course, Potter. I had to ask him. He said, in an uncharacteristic burst of humour, I thought, 'Can't I be a bridesmaid?'

Ginny's having millions of bridesmaids. God knows why. A man only needs one best friend. I've got Potter. There doesn't have to be anyone else. Why do girls need so many? But of course, that's not the point. She gets whatever she wants.

I am getting a little pissed off about this dress, though. All I've been told is that I'm to wear dark green. My suit's been chosen and I'm happy with it. All I want is to see Ginny's dress! I'm the one paying for it, after all. Her parents couldn't afford it.

Most of her family have already arrived, and are staying in the guest wing. You wouldn't believe how many people are already here. What's wrong with arriving on the day? They're all staying over, either here or at the inn in the village. Why do they need to come early?

Okay, so I'm panicking. Mum has charmed a pair of gloves onto my hands so that I can't bite my nails. It's really frustrating. I'm getting through thirty wagon wheels a day and I just can't stop. What's wrong with me?

I'm getting married. That's what.