(non-HBP-compatible)
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Confessions of an Evil Bastard
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Journal of Draco Xavier Lucius Elspeth Antoine-Vigee Malfoy
January 1st, 1998
So.
Right.
Ahem.
…Fuck this. I don't get it. Screw you, Granger.
--ceb--
Journal of Draco Xavier Lucius Elspeth Antoine-Vigee Malfoy
January 2nd, 1998
Oy.
Oy, Alazar.
No, that sounds too much like Salazar. Right.
Oy, Alazam.
…Oh, that was disgustingly muggle.
Oy, Alzane.
Oy, Alzaneth.
Oy, Alazatherer–
Okay, this is really, really stupid.
Granger, you're fried if you ever actually read this, but naming my bloody journal to give it "personality" is the most fuckheaded idea you've ever had. And that includes the time you gave me the SPEW assistant-directorship. Uninvited.
--ceb--
Journal of Draco Xavier Lucius Elspeth Antoine-Vigee Malfoy
January 3rd, 1998
Oy, Journal:
Granger says that giving you a personality will make unburdening my sins to you easier. Granger is usually wrong when she's not talking about Scarhead or schoolwork, so I don't know why I'm listening. Nevertheless, I will proceed undaunted. I will write in you every single day and will endeavor to be as honest and unbiased in your pages as is Malfoyishly possible.
Right.
…It's 'cause she cursed me, dammit. Effing stupid muddy-blooded bint.
--ceb--
Journal of Draco Xavier Lucius Elspeth Antoine-Vigee Malfoy
January 4th, 1998
Okay, so it was like this. I was just sitting there, nice and cozy in our common room and BLAM! Grangerattack.
But it wasn't an ordinary Grangerattack, oh no no no – this was a devious, sly, sneaky, thoroughly Slytherinish Grangerattack. It's quite unfair, really. Needless to say, I didn't see it coming.
"Draco!" she'd beamed in that annoyingly beam-y way. "Look what I have for you! It's a late Christmas gift. Or you could think of it as a New Years gift, I guess." And she held out this box.
It was green and silver, and looked quite genuinely Dracoesque. Someone had put a lot of effort into it, I'd thought. And, being the kind, forgiving, dumbass fool that I was, I opened it.
I repeat: BLAM! Grangerattack.
She had this curse in it, you see. And, since I was a kind, forgiving, dumbass fool, I didn't do any checks or anything on it. I mean, it was Granger. She was a bloody Gryffindor. She was the bloody posterchild of Gryffindor. Muggleborn, insufferably brilliant, obnoxiously brave, annoyingly into heroics and now the Head Girl to boot – you've gotta cut a chap some slack for slipping up once in a while. Granger and I were getting along. Sort of.
In a really tense, I-hate-you-but-I'm-not-going-to-talk-about-it sort of way.
So I opened the box, and I was cursed. What was this curse, you ask? Well, basically I now have to write in you, O bloody journal that was inside the bloody box. Every single day. And it has to be a "legitimate entry," whatever she means by that, so I can't really just put in a punctuation mark and call that an entry.
Oh, the humiliation.
Under normal circumstances, I would've dared the consequences and dropped this stupid thing the very first day. Not to hurt your feelings, Journal, but I kind of relish the idea of making you die a slow, flame-licking death.
But nooo, there's this thing. This condition that Goody Granger had to add on to the stupid curse. If my entry is "judged" unacceptable, I suffer the consequence of having – of having – ugh. I can't say it.
But the entry is pointless if you don't say it, Draco.
C'mon. Do it, Draco.
Stop writing to yourself, Draco.
...Right.
According to Granger, I would suffer the consequence of having... curls.
Blond curls. Bouncy, sproingy, four-inch-long blond curls.
Ugh. I so am not going to be the first Malfoy drag queen.
--ceb--
Journal of Draco Xavier Lucius Elspeth Antoine-Vigee Malfoy!
January 4th, 1998 – Sunday!
Hooray! Hallelujah! All hail the harbinger of joy and happiness!
Oy Journal!
I got to sleep in today! Granger didn't wake me up at seven as she usually does! Huzzah! Oh kind and gentle fates! I'm not entirely sure, but that must be the reason why I am so extraordinarily filled with joy today! I have been blind, blind, I tell you! My cup runneth over with the blessings of good fortune, yet I have never been alive to that knowledge until today! Oh, the joys of sleep!
This must be why I am hyper-punctuating with exclamation points!
Oh, what utter fun!
It's sunny outside! I've quidditch practice in an hour! Huzzah! Long live the Queen!
--ceb--
Journal of Draco Xavier Lucius Elspeth Antoine-Vigee Malfoy
January 5th, 1998 – Monday.
Ey.
If it weren't for the threat about the blond curls, I'd totally just… tear out that last entry or something.
Merlin, Granger's got it coming to her…
Who's "the Queen?"
--ceb--
Journal of Draco Xavier Lucius Elspeth Antoine-Vigee Malfoy
January 6th, 1998 – Tuesday.
I remain shockingly embarassed.
When I came to on Monday, I'd thought at first that Granger had put some curse on me.
Uh, no. Turns out, she fed me some Muggle pill in the hot chocolate she passed me Saturday night. And she "accidentally" overdosed it.
Accidentally, my attractive ass.
An "antidepressant," she called the thing. "Pro-Zack." She said it was to "ease my stress."
Stress, what?
I mean, I only feel an urge – not at all an overpowering urge - to take out years and years and years of freaking BLOODY unfair OPPRESSION under a freaking BLOODY maniacal FUCKHEAD of a father and a freaking BLOODY airheaded BINT of a mother by EXAGGERATING CONTENTEDLY and freaking BLOODY mutilating the whole FUCKING world slowly while taking great enjoyment in its unFUCKINGbelievably cruel death. Repeatedly. MULTIPLE M-FUCKING APOCALYPSES.
…
…whoah.
I feel… at peace.
I feel like the great blue ocean, O Journal of Self-Help. A Great Blue Ocean filled with swimmy dolphins and super-swimmy killer whales.
Dude, this is cool.
Hmm. So "venting" actually works.
--ceb--
Journal of Draco Xavier Lucius Elspeth Antoine-Vigee Malfoy
January 30th, 1998 – Friday.
Oy, Journal.
Right. I haven't written in a month. I forgot to tell you that Granger lifted the curse about daily entries, thank Merlin. See, I told her about the venting in the last entry – kind of an accident, really – and she was all happy about it. So she lifted the curse. And she apologized about the Pro-Zack. And now she's trying to convert me to The Stupid Side with Pothead and all the other twits. Which is admittedly a less fortunate consequence, but I guess it all balances out. Eventually.
It's all very weird.
I mean, last year we were freaking enemies. We wanted to murder each other in a bloody bloody death. And then Dumbledore made us Heads, and threatened to strip our titles if we didn't get along, and she offered a truce and I took it and… And, well, we haven't killed each other yet.
We've only spammed each other with SPEW pamphlets. And dyed each other purple. And stolen each other's precious expensive hair care products (the whole shelf of them, bloody bint). And hexed each other, quietly. And filched each others' homework. And publicly humiliated each other in Potions. And stained each others' clothing. And given each other food poisoning. And fed each other Weasley Wheeze (ugh) experiments. And harassed each others' pets. Oh, and don't forget the Pro-Zack.
I guess it's still a truce. Sort of. I repeat: we haven't killed each other yet.
I'm very deliberately leaving out the parts about our sharing research and T-fig tips behinds McG's back, of course. And the conversations in the library. And the scheming to keep Pansy out of the Common Room. And the Christmas presents.
Well, the presents that weren't cursed and late.
Right… So I'm writing now because I feel I should clarify something from last time. Not that you understand any of what I'm writing. So it's a moot point. All the same:
I actually love my parents very much, despite what the last entry might make you think. Mother is extremely gentle and obliging, and though she never seems to speak for herself, I know that she does care for me deeply. She's a bit annoying at times, but all parents are. Father was more… difficult. Yes, he was sometimes harsh with me, and yes, he had not been the most understanding of people. But he never used anything Dark of Unforgivable on me, contrary to common expectation. He was a bit distant, but that's just who he was. It wasn't easy for him, having to simultaneously clear his name and remain as marginally loyal to the Dark Lord as was possible. It must have been frustrating to have his ideals defeated every time Gryffindork Potter showed me up in Quidditch and mudblood Granger beat me on tests - which was almost always. I can sympathize with him. I don't resent him, really.
It's not really polite to resent the dead.
…Yeah. I had a letter from Mother today. I guess a couple of years in Azkaban can do that to a proud person – kill him.
Granger suggested that I send Mother some Pro-Zack, so I made her vomit slugs for an hour afterwards.
Granger's wrong. Letting out the anger doesn't help.
I'm in this weird, woozy sort of mood right now… the kind where you can go on talking or writing for pages, you know? Where it's good just to be doing something, so you don't have to think.
Blaise has a theory. He thinks I'm feeling sudden freedom. Like all the expectations and the rules that are carved into stone just sort of melted with Father's death.
I told him that he was talking heresy and that I would write to his family in Florence about it. He laughed. He said they wouldn't give a damn.
Blaise is wrong. This isn't freedom. Freedom isn't woozy. Freedom is not having a tradition, not having a reputation, not being hardwired to react a certain way when certain things happen to you.
Feel pain? says the hardwire. Then give more of it, Malfoy.
So I did. I punched Blaise after he laughed, and I made Hermione vomit slugs for an hour. I mean, I was mad about the Pro-Zack, but I could see that she meant it with the best (if rather misjudged) intentions. I used a modification on the old hex, one that she couldn't figure out how to undo while retching, and observed the bathroom door as she locked herself inside.
It stopped a few minutes before dinner, which she skipped. She's not talking to me. I don't blame her. I don't think she'll tell Dumbledore, but she might. I'm trying to convince myself that it's the Head title I'm worried about, and not anything else.
Merlin. I feel like shit.
Fuck you, Father.
--ceb--
Journal of Draco Xavier Lucius Elspeth Antoine-Vigee Malfoy
February 2nd, 1998 – Monday.
Oy, Journal,
Eh. All things pass. Don't mind the melodrama, Granger says that's another form of venting…
In case you couldn't guess, Granger is speaking again. To me. As in, this morning she marched into my (unlocked, sadly) room, slapped me twice, wiped her hands, and told me I was the biggest arsehole in the entirety of Britain. And that it was okay.
Then I blinked, swallowed, and conjured up a slug plushie.
Needless to say, Granger was not pleased.
I suppose I should feel lucky that both she and Blaise are so stupidly, Gryffindorically forgiving. But damn, I so love being an evil bastard…
Screw conscience. I'm off to plant slugs in Granger's food. And maybe a few in Blaise's, too, yeah? Hah – suckers!
Toodley-doodley-doo, I feel like an evil conniving idiot,
DM
--tbc--
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Author's Notes
- Blaise is Italian, yes. Because I don't like JKR's HBP Blaise – too dry and boring. So I'll stick to Italian Blaise, who's sort of like fanon Draco, who is too much fun to ignore…
- For future reference: please do at least skim the dates before each entry. It'll help the story make more sense, at least.
- CEB too flippant/cliché/non-intelligent for you? Too bad. Go read Haven or something. It's postHBP, it's in-character, it's realistic, it'sbacked by research,Draco and Hermione aren't Head Boy and Girl, it's not cliché… But it's also a lot harder to write. Which is why CEB happened – it's my break. XD
So. You like? If so, review! All it takes is one word of acknowledgement, darlings… one itty bitty word… (And as a preemptive announcement: I don't like you, people who fave a story but don't review! If you enjoyed CEB that much, at least have enough of a conscience to leave a teensy word with me – not all of us are allowed to be Draco Malfoy, you know. XD )
Disclaimer: No. Not mine. Nada. Though I will hunt you down with a rusty axe if you steal my fanfiction. :p