29th August 99
Dear Diary,
I know that Potter loves her also. Although we both have a different kind of love for her, it's still the same thing. Potter's love for her is the sweet pure kind. He blushes when he sees her, he stutters around her, and can't stop smiling a goofy grin when he is in her presence.
My love was of a different kind. My heart races when he sees her. My eyes narrow dangerously when she talks to any of the male race and I often vow revenge of any guys she smiles at. I have managed to get three boys to change schools already and a young boy, Hoblin Greevy or something, to burst into tears because of little old me.
I also have very vivid dreams of Hermione and one of my favourite pastimes imagining her in different sorts of clothes when in class, supposedly paying attention to the teacher. I'm sure you know what sort of clothes. Well unless you got an IQ lower than Goyle's but I doubt that. I mean, you can actually read this, can't you?
Anyway, let me start at the beginning. My name is Draco Malfoy. I am sixteen, nearly seventeen years old. I am dashing, smart, extremely good looking and evidently charming. Oh, but I won't go on. I'm terribly modest you see.
Anyway, the object of my affection is Hermione Granger. Now, I've always kind of fancied her. More for her brains, to be honest. When you are a sweet, innocent eleven-year-old, these things seem important. Okay, so I was never sweet nor innocent but I was young and foolish and hadn't really realised the facts of life. I used the love the smart things that came out of her mouth, though now I know not to estimate the importance of body language. And Hermione's body whispers a lot of things to me, though I'm not going to go into detail, mind you.
She's unaware of this, of course. I never made it known. But now my father's in Askaban 'cause of bloody Potter, (And her, mind you but I could never blame her) I might as well make my feelings known.
But how is the question? I'm sure she'll put up a fight. She's so stubborn, and head strong, that I would be stupid to not be prepared for her instinctive reject. But, alas, I know she will succumb to me.
Because I am Draco Malfoy.
I can offer her things Potter and Weasley cannot even wish to offer her. I can offer her jewels, foreign holidays, any material thing of her choice. Perhaps you think money is not important to the brave Gryffindor, but you are wrong. Money is the one thing in life that we can earn and use. Money will never betray us. Money will always be there for us. Well not us, just me. Money will always be there for me, as long as I am a Malfoy.
And money will be there for her too, if she accepts me, which is inevitable.
But, although money will catch her attention and interest, that is not the most important thing I can offer her. I will offer her the one thing nobody in this world will offer her. Security.
As a Mudblood, she will be in danger. The Dark Lord is already rising in power, and once this has been achieved, he will wipe the world of Muggles. She will be one of the first to die. And the Dark Lord will not be merciful. Her name is known now, after her little adventure in the Department of Mysteries. She was seen helping Potter, and for that and her dirty blood, her capture will be what her death will not be. Immediate.
"Drrrrraaaaaaaccccccccooooooooooo!!!!!!"
"I'm coming, mom!" he grunted.
"Drrrrraaaaaaaccccccccooooooooooo!!!!!!"
"I heard you!" he slammed his pen down one swift movement, and sighed.
"Drrrrraaaaaaaccccccccooooooooooo!!!!!!"
"Damn it, Mother! I heard you!"
His mother stomped up the stairs and flung his door open.
"For Merlin's Sake, woman, I'm getting dressed."
"Would you hurry up?" his mother demanded.
Draco shot her a look of deep disgust and swept into the bathroom to run his bath.
"Don't you be hatching in there," his mother warned.
"Could you be anymore irritating?" he asked, without expecting an answer.
She had one. "Why, yes, son, I could." His mother began to sing.
"Mother, are you drunk?"
"Why yes, Draco, quite a bit."
29th August 99
Dear Diary
I escaped my mother's callings, by locking the door and listening to my Weird Sisters album. Over such loud music, her screams are nothing but musical bells far far away.
Since my father was taken into Askaban, my mother has decided to order me about as much as possible to keep me on my toes. When I bring Hermione back to my house, I will have to make sure my mother is not around.
My mother seems to be indulging in large amounts of whiskey lately. I suppose it is because she is unhappy, without my father to rule her. To be honest, I couldn't really give a damn about my mother. There were times when she let my father hurt me and now I do not care about her simple problems. She is no longer of any real importance.
Hermione is the only woman I care about. She is the only thing that has kept me going these last few months. I cannot wait to re-enter my school and see her beautiful face again.
I heard over the summer she has been in Paris. How interesting. Perhaps we can revisit there some day. On our honeymoon?
He was on the train now, swaggering his walk. He had just seen her with the other two. As beautiful as always. My, my, how pretty her bushy hair was today. He wondered for a minute why she hadn't learnt either to straighten or to curl her hair, but it makes her all the more interesting. He doesn't talk to her yet; that is all to come later.
1 September 99
Dear Diary
When Hermione has fallen in love with me, I shall change her all for the better. I will make her the perfect form of perfection. Then she will never be able to leave me, for she will have to revert back to the rather nice, but not perfect, piece she was before me.
The first thing I shall do is buy her lots and lots of nice clothes. There's this rather interesting shop with rather imaginative garments in it that I feel would suit her perfectly. She will object, at first, I have no doubt, but with the persuasion of my manly charms, I feel she will see her potential. The thought of her wearing said garments makes my mouth water.
Secondly, I shall ban her from libraries. I will supply her with a tolerable amount of books, in which she will only have access to, once she A) has done all her duties B) is having her period or is being otherwise annoying to me C) has satisfied me to the limit or D) needs to give her IQ a boost so she does not become of the Weasley level. I feel this will be enough to keep her happy, in this aspect.
Thirdly, I shall show her the amazing powers of the Gel – Squeeze and Sleaze. Her hair shall not be bushy, but shall be beautiful. I shall take a picture of her before and after. I can not wait to see her face when she sees the effort. I believe I shall spoil her, I really do.
Fourthly, she will have to wear some make up. Heaven knows why she doesn't. It's hardly too hard. I even apply a bit of powder myself as I don't look too shiny, and I find the result both satisfying and effective. Of course I would never reveal this to any of my mates, but I do not feel it is something to be ashamed of. After all, pure beauty comes with a price.
She will be perfect, Hermione will. But what will make me really happy, is the fact that I will show her off to Potter and he will want her all the more, but she shall be mine!
I love being Draco Malfoy.
"Hermione," he said, nodding as he past.
She simply stared at him, jaw dropping.
He walked by and smirked to himself. This was his first stage at courting her. Confusing her by being polite. It would make her think that perhaps he wasn't as bad as she thought. She would be wrong, but that did not matter to him.
2nd September 99
Dear Diary
I want her in a weeks time. No sooner, no later. Actually, what am I saying –the sooner, the better. But I will have to be patient. I would be an idiot to think that she will just fall in love with me straight away. It should, at least, take a day or two.
Once he was seated in the Great Hall, he threw his eyes down on her. He stared at her through the whole meal. He knew she could feel his eyes on her because she kept looking over at him, nervously. She was going awfully red. She looked frustrated. Don't bother try to fight it, Hermione, he thought, just come to me.
She left the meal rather early. And so starts her in inner battle, he thought with a massive smirk. This year, he decided, was to be his best yet.
3rd September
Dear Diary,
I'm sitting in the library now, writing in this notepad. I swear, I'm becoming rather attached to it. She's across from me, of heavenly angel. How come she looks so beautiful, and I haven't even transformed her yet? She's amazing, that girl is.
He went and sat down beside her. He offered her a huge invited smile, which she returned with a beautiful but rather vicious scowl. He sat there for a long time, lightly banging his foot off her table to a beat only he could hear, smiling at her. When it appeared she couldn't take any more, she asked him, thoroughly frustrated, through gritted teeth, "Can I help you, Malfoy?"
"Oh no, Hermione. I'm rather grand myself. How about you?" he replied in, what he thought, a pleasant voice.
She looked as if he had slapped her. "Don't you ever call me Hermione again, Malfoy, or I will hex you back to third year, where I will slap you again!"
With that and an extra deep scowl, she stood, threw her many books into her bag, and promptly stormed out.
He sat, leaned back, and smirked. This was going to be hard, but he was not afraid of a challenge. He couldn't feel more confident.
8th September 99
Dear Diary,Merlin, I'm getting desperate. The girl is not interested in me. I can't see why. I've tried being nice to her and she just flings it back in my face. Then I tried the whole "be mean, keep 'em keen" thing, (well it works with Pansy. Unintentionally, of course.) and she just seemed less interested in my well developed body and more in getting away from me.
I have made a list of reasons as to why she might not find me as attractive as she should and it goes like this:
She lost her sight as a baby and instead judges everyone by their boringness. Hence, why she is friends with Harry Potter and co. She has a strange chemical makeup that gives her unusual nostril taste buds (what are the proper names?) that makes her pick up on a non-existant but rather nasty smell coming from my gloriness and thinks I'm an unbathed peasant, which obviously I am not. The exact opposite, really. She does not understand the power of the surname Malfoy as she is from an unfortunate legacy of Muggles or she has simply not connected the name Malfoy with this beautiful face. Which is a bit improbable as she does call me Malfoy. Maybe she thinks it's a cute nickname or something? She's one of those weird people that go for people's personalities and just has not discovered my amazing one just yet. She fears my father and the many jealous girls that would be out to get her if she were at my arm. But she must know of my power. I would keep her safe. Nobody would touch her. She's in love with Potter or Weasley… Nah. She'd still pick me. She does not believe that she, Hermione Granger, would be lucky or worthy enough to have caught my attentions.I believe number 7 is the most believable. Hell, that has to it. No other reason makes sense. I am Draco Malfoy.
But how do I show her that I really do love her. How? How do I show her that she means more to me than everyone else but the most refined? She's the air that I need to breathe, the girl I need to shag, the role playing game that needs to be played.
I know. I'll show her I'm for real. I'll give her this diary. This diary which shows her all my inner thoughts and secrets. It shows that I'm not just a shallow, self-obsessive, spoilt boy. It'll show her what a beautiful young man I really am. It'll show her all the potential she has, to become the perfect woman.
I can't live without her any more.
More importantly, the week is running out. Only tomorrow left. I said I'd get her in a week and I will.
My love, Hermione, we can not be apart for even one more minute.
He nodded to himself before going to sleep that night. Things would work out for him. After all, he was Draco Malfoy.
9th September 99
Dear Diary,
Here we go. Are you ready for my love, Hermione? Are you ready, for Draco Malfoy?
"Hermione?" He sat down at her usual table and looked at her with, what he thought to be, deep thoughtful grey eyes.
"What, Malfoy, what do you want?"
"Please, Hermione," he said, leaning over on to her seat, smilingly, "how long have we known each other? After everything we've been through, you may call me Draco."
She stared at him for a full minute, her mouth opening and closing as if she wasn't quite sure how to express what she wanted to say.
"Speechless?" he smiled kindly at her. "Don't worry," he reassured, reaching over and squeezing her hand. "It's only me."
Like lightning, she brought her hand back to her lap, glared at him and resisted shouting completely but was still somewhat yelling when she cried, "What do you want, Malfoy? You've been bothering me for a full week now and It's getting very, very, very tiresome!"
"Don't get yourself worked up," he said, although he was slightly worried about her. He noted that if she had been wearing makeup, she would not look red and angry. Her skirt was also rather long. He considered putting his hand on her thigh and pushing the skirt up completely, it was all in her best interest, but resisted. That would all come later. Now he had to seal their mutual love.
"I wanted to give you this," he said and presented his diary as if it was a Christmas present of much value.
She looked at him, raised a sceptical eyebrow and uncertainly took the book from him. She opened it on the first page.
It wasn't very long so he decided he'd grace her with his presence and just wait until she finished. He couldn't read anything from her expression, but she looked very absorbed. He wasn't worried. Even if she hadn't realised her feelings for him at this stage, surely she would now.
He was looking particularly dashing tonight anyway. He'd made more of an effort tonight than ever. His hair was slicked back with more of the gel than ever possible. It wasn't too nice to feel, it made his hair awfully soppy, but it looked marvellous. He'd applied a little more powder than ever. So much so that he'd actually had to wash some off because Goyle (Goyle!) had actually noticed it. And Goyle did not notice much! He was wearing his black robes that he'd once wore to the Yule Ball, the ones with the high neck. He'd got his mother to iron them twice and to perfection.
When she turned the last page, he sat up straight and smiled at her patiently.
She looked at him, completely blankly for a minute, then threw back her head and:
"Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahah…."
The hysterical laughter did not end for quite some time.
9th September 99
Dear Diary,
I think Hermione is better suited to Potter, after all.
Yours sincerely,
Draco Malfoy
The End.
And that was my attempt at a humour fic! Did it work? A review would be as lovely as my Christmas dinner at this point.
I'm trying to write a couple of different fics. This isn't my normal style and I doubt I'll ever write a humour fic again, but hey, it was an attempt. A nice break from my normal angst, eh?