Hey it's me again. Hope you enjoy the story! And I would love 15 reviews
but I hate authors who refuse to update if they don't get a certain amount
of reviewers so do what you wish. Good. Bad. Questions. Comments. Just
review. And I might be moving. WAAAAAHHHHHHH. I love my house and I don't
know how I would survive without my friends. My mom might not get another
job but please keep me in your prayers and whatever other religion you
believe in, just please beg your god at Church or temple or where ever you
go to worship that I don't move. PLEASE! I think I'd commit suicide
before I move again. No joke. Now on a happier note this is going to be
told in Draco's POV, just to jazz things up a bit.
THE PRIVATE JOURNAL OF DRACO MALFOY
DO NOT READ
IF YOU EVEN THINK ABOUT READING THIS I WILL BLOW YOU TO PIECES.
Thank god dear old Dad thinks I'm writing my death eaters speech. He would blow ME to pieces if he knew that I was writing in a journal about a mudblood. Or what I thought about the latest episode of Smallville. I mean on the outside I'm mean, tough and total bad boy stud, Draco Malfoy but on the inside I'm just as happy reciting poetry then going on muggle raids. I just don't get the same rush that I get from an especially exciting match of Quidditch. I've also been around the block a couple of times but no girl ever gave me a rush or anything remotely interesting, no matter how pretty they are. I guess what I'm trying to say is I've never been in love before. I mean my own damn parents never loved me so why should I give anybody else the courtesy of being loved. I mean there are other things out there besides love right? What is going on with me? I never even thought about love until before a couple of hours ago. I never told anybody about what really goes on with me until a couple of hours ago. I never felt this way until a couple of hours ago. No body ever cared until a couple of hours ago.
I sat on the floor with Granger's head in my lap. She had obviously never gotten drunk before. While me on the other hand have been getting drunk since age 12. We had been down in this room for at least 2 hours and I had finally stopped drinking. I picked Granger up and carried her to the bed. I was beginning to feel a bit tired myself and laid down next to her. With the moonlight streaming in on her face she really didn't look that bad. For a mudblood I mean. Was I about to say she looked beautiful? Ok maybe she did but she definitely was not my type. I usually go for blonds with blue eyes and curvy petite figures. You know the damsel in distress types. Granger was anything but a damsel in distress. She was a bossy, brown haired, chocolate eyed, average bodied mudblood. A mudblood who cared. Then I reasoned with myself. She was drunk so she was not herself. And neither was I and in reality I would have never spilled my guts to a mudblood anyway. But what is blood? I mean is it not just a liquid that is flowing through our veins. Why do some have thou blood tainted and never know what it is like to feel a life of pureness. There I go again. rambling on in my poetic forms. It's just a stupid poem. It is taking up valuable space in my dairy and therefore I should erase it. But I can't. As much as I want that poem to be out of sight out of mind I know now that I have put it down on paper that it will be there forever. Always stuck in the back of my mind and nagging at me. So I shall leave the poem where it is.
Back to the story. We must have sat on that bed for another good half an hour before I heard the voice I loathed come thought the wall. It was none other than pothead and his moronic sidekick Weasel. They were calling Granger's name and I guess one of them must have hit the candlestick because the next thing I knew those two monkeys came barreling in. When they saw me and Granger lying in bed together and to say the least they flipped out. First they just stood there dumbstruck and then I saw Weasely turn red in the face. He came running at me and by then I had become more sober. Potter went straight to Granger's side and held her hand. Weasely on the other hand came head butted me right in the stomach and demanded to know what had happened to "his hermione". Like she was his property or something. By then Potter had figured out that she had passed out by way of too much alcohol but I decided to play with there heads a bit. I sauntered out the door but thought of a new idea, turned around and said, "Oh and weasely, by the way, for a mudblood she's definitely good at it." Of course I was referring to getting drunk and it wasn't a bold faced lie. If they just happened to think something else, who am I to stop a teenage boy's mind from thinking its thoughts? I knew Granger wouldn't appreciate this but who was I to owe her any favors. What did she ever do for me? Oh never mind. I know I know you don't need to tell me. Subconsciously I'll never forget what she did for me. She was the only person who ever really thought twice and gave a damn enough about me to really care.
Short Chappie I know but I don't feel well. Hope to be better tomorrow. Kinda fluffy but you have to understand that Draco has never been loved and nobody has ever cared about him. He was really touched by how Hermione listened and understood what was going on. He is going to find a friend in her after all. And of course Ginny is going to be pissed that they spent time together and once she hears Ron's perspective on what happened sparks are going to fly!
Kisses and Bites,
Juli
THE PRIVATE JOURNAL OF DRACO MALFOY
DO NOT READ
IF YOU EVEN THINK ABOUT READING THIS I WILL BLOW YOU TO PIECES.
Thank god dear old Dad thinks I'm writing my death eaters speech. He would blow ME to pieces if he knew that I was writing in a journal about a mudblood. Or what I thought about the latest episode of Smallville. I mean on the outside I'm mean, tough and total bad boy stud, Draco Malfoy but on the inside I'm just as happy reciting poetry then going on muggle raids. I just don't get the same rush that I get from an especially exciting match of Quidditch. I've also been around the block a couple of times but no girl ever gave me a rush or anything remotely interesting, no matter how pretty they are. I guess what I'm trying to say is I've never been in love before. I mean my own damn parents never loved me so why should I give anybody else the courtesy of being loved. I mean there are other things out there besides love right? What is going on with me? I never even thought about love until before a couple of hours ago. I never told anybody about what really goes on with me until a couple of hours ago. I never felt this way until a couple of hours ago. No body ever cared until a couple of hours ago.
I sat on the floor with Granger's head in my lap. She had obviously never gotten drunk before. While me on the other hand have been getting drunk since age 12. We had been down in this room for at least 2 hours and I had finally stopped drinking. I picked Granger up and carried her to the bed. I was beginning to feel a bit tired myself and laid down next to her. With the moonlight streaming in on her face she really didn't look that bad. For a mudblood I mean. Was I about to say she looked beautiful? Ok maybe she did but she definitely was not my type. I usually go for blonds with blue eyes and curvy petite figures. You know the damsel in distress types. Granger was anything but a damsel in distress. She was a bossy, brown haired, chocolate eyed, average bodied mudblood. A mudblood who cared. Then I reasoned with myself. She was drunk so she was not herself. And neither was I and in reality I would have never spilled my guts to a mudblood anyway. But what is blood? I mean is it not just a liquid that is flowing through our veins. Why do some have thou blood tainted and never know what it is like to feel a life of pureness. There I go again. rambling on in my poetic forms. It's just a stupid poem. It is taking up valuable space in my dairy and therefore I should erase it. But I can't. As much as I want that poem to be out of sight out of mind I know now that I have put it down on paper that it will be there forever. Always stuck in the back of my mind and nagging at me. So I shall leave the poem where it is.
Back to the story. We must have sat on that bed for another good half an hour before I heard the voice I loathed come thought the wall. It was none other than pothead and his moronic sidekick Weasel. They were calling Granger's name and I guess one of them must have hit the candlestick because the next thing I knew those two monkeys came barreling in. When they saw me and Granger lying in bed together and to say the least they flipped out. First they just stood there dumbstruck and then I saw Weasely turn red in the face. He came running at me and by then I had become more sober. Potter went straight to Granger's side and held her hand. Weasely on the other hand came head butted me right in the stomach and demanded to know what had happened to "his hermione". Like she was his property or something. By then Potter had figured out that she had passed out by way of too much alcohol but I decided to play with there heads a bit. I sauntered out the door but thought of a new idea, turned around and said, "Oh and weasely, by the way, for a mudblood she's definitely good at it." Of course I was referring to getting drunk and it wasn't a bold faced lie. If they just happened to think something else, who am I to stop a teenage boy's mind from thinking its thoughts? I knew Granger wouldn't appreciate this but who was I to owe her any favors. What did she ever do for me? Oh never mind. I know I know you don't need to tell me. Subconsciously I'll never forget what she did for me. She was the only person who ever really thought twice and gave a damn enough about me to really care.
Short Chappie I know but I don't feel well. Hope to be better tomorrow. Kinda fluffy but you have to understand that Draco has never been loved and nobody has ever cared about him. He was really touched by how Hermione listened and understood what was going on. He is going to find a friend in her after all. And of course Ginny is going to be pissed that they spent time together and once she hears Ron's perspective on what happened sparks are going to fly!
Kisses and Bites,
Juli