Monday 27th February 1989

Time: 14:32

Today, I suppose, my life begins. I have just come into possession of this book. Do I call it a diary? A journal? A jotter? A log? A notebook? I suppose I could call it whatever I wish.

It's such a sweet gift. A house-elf (Fizz) gave it to me. How she was able to is beyond me, really, but I've seldom known a kinder being. If I'm honest, I think such a gesture is the kindest action I've ever received.

If I'm correct then today should be my eleventh birthday. I'm not really sure, of course. I think this book is actually the first birthday present I recall being given.

Draco gets presents on his birthday. He'll be nine in June. I'm sure Mother and Father will invite many guests that day and there may be a great deal of celebration, especially considering that he recently had his first bout of accidental magic. Mother and Father were so proud of him; positively ecstatic, in fact. I suspect he'll be a rather powerful wizard by the time he comes of age. He certainly has the brains to apply himself to whatever he sets his mind to.

I cannot say the same for myself, unfortunately. I don't think I've ever done anything remarkable thus far in my life; nothing praise-worthy, at least.

I don't begrudge Draco the praise he receives, but I do like to hope that one day Mother or Father might look my way. Even a nod would satisfy me. I sometimes feel as though I don't exist. It isn't a very nice feeling to have, but I shouldn't grumble, really — not when there are house-elves like sweet little Fizz. No house-elf has ever treated me unkindly.

I think Mother and Father generally feel as though today is a day no different than any other, really. Father is at work (he works at the Ministry of Magic) and Mother is downstairs having tea with Mrs. Parkinson, Mrs. Crabbe, Mrs. Goyle and Mrs. Nott right now.

I think Draco is outside playing quidditch with Vincent, Gregory and Theodore, or talking with Pansy. I'd like to have joined them, really, but I fear my skills on a broomstick are sorely lacking. I swear, I couldn't fly to save my life.

I don't have friends like Draco does. Oh, I have the house-elves for company (of course I do) but I think it would be nice to have a human my own age; someone who would speak to me as an equal and not their superior. There's nothing remotely superior about me. It would be nice to be called by a nickname, rather than 'Mistress' or 'Miss Thalassa-Dejanira.' I don't dislike my name, but I like to think a nickname might ground me; that it might make me feel a little more human.

When I think about it, I can't say I recall Mother or Father ever really calling me by any sort of name, other than 'Daughter.' That's the title they've given me - 'Daughter.' Draco calls me 'Sister.' In fact, if it weren't for the house-elves I doubt I'd even know my own name. I can't help but wonder if Mother and Father do — surely they must, of course? Were they not the ones to name me; keeping in tradition with the astronomy theme? Named for a moon of Neptune (Thalassa) and an asteroid (Dejanira.) Perhaps I should call myself Neptune's Child? (Interestingly, Neptune is the ruler of my Zodiac: Pisces.)

Draco's named for a constellation — the Dragon. Perhaps it's fair to say he certainly has the temper of one, but without so much breathing of fire. His middle name is Lucius, named after Father, so that does rather break the astronomy tradition. I think tradition for Father's heritage is generally Latin (and usually male.) I can scarcely recall mention of any female-born Malfoy children at all, aside from myself, though I do consider myself something of a nobody, all told.

I suppose it isn't something really spoken about. Perhaps it's considered somewhat shameful to be of pure blood and female (though I daresay there's precious little that's shameful about Mother.) Maybe it's just a Malfoy thing — I honestly don't know.

I'm rambling, though this is a book capable of possessing any name its owner desires to provide it with, and despite any charms placed on it I don't think it's quite so likely to tell me to shut up; no matter how much I have to say. (Nor do I think the chances of it telling me to brush my hair are probable either. Magic mirrors; who'd have them?)

And so, with that said, welcome to the first day of my life.

Thalassa-Dejanira Malfoy