Disclaimer: Kiss arse, disclaimer. I hate you.
Muse Eelie: Be nice.
Me: Fine. Please
kiss arse, disclaimer. I hate you, please. Die a horrible effing
draco malfoy, god of the universe
Tuesday, September 9th
Head Boy's Dorms
Ah, merde and triple merde.
Today, I killed Harry James Potter.
Sadly, the Wizarding World seems to think this a great injustice and has, consequently, formed together in an attempt to snap my body in half and take turns dancing on my grave.
Ok, so maybe I didn't actually kill him. It was more like beat him senseless.
Ok, how the hell was I supposed to know he'd forgotten his wand in his room? What type of guy who knows he's supposed to be on the lookout for rogue Death Eaters wanders around the school in the early morning without his wand?
I was just awake—AT FREAKING FIVE IN THE MORNING, which is an Ungodly Hour, which is also the hours at which the Lucifer—I mean, Lucius chose to wake me. Anyways, I was awake at five because my damn internal body clock (which needs to be taken the hell out) was used to waking up then.
So I'm walking down the hallway, and there's Potter, talking to my old house-elf—Dobby. He was very…eccentric when we had him, I remember. Father took him away from me and made Dobby his personal sex slave—er, no, servant. Goddamn, I told Blaise that he shouldn't have lent me that book.
Odd Mating Habits, by Matilda Tubbs.
I swear, I will never, ever again ask Blaise what he's reading.
I must get back to the story now, so here goes.
Potter was just talking, as I said before, to Dobby, the aforesaid se—house-elf. When I rounded the corner, he jumped and turned around, looking immediately disgusting like. Which means he looked like himself, you daft fools.
Actually, Potter doesn't look all that bad.
May Lucifer—Lucius scratch out his eyeballs, I just said Potter doesn't look bad! I HAVE COMPLIMENTED MY ARCH-NEMESIS.
Life can't get any worse.
Blaise has woken up and tumbled into my rooms, still shaggy-haired and wearing his pajamas. He interrupted my System.
I am now in the process of convincing myself that I, Draco Malfoy, am in no way attracted to Harry Potter, as I am NOT GAY.
Told Blaise about my suspicions.
He looked weirdly at me as he went to use my bathroom. I told him to stuff his eyes back in his face, shaggy boy.
He didn't get it, though.
Right. So as I was saying before, Potter turned around in his DEFINITELY UNATTRACTIVE way, and said a few choice comments. Actually, it went something like this.
Potter: I worship you. (Scratch that) Die, evil scum.
Me: No, you first.
And he reached back as though he was taking something out of his pocket, and I panicked. So I took out my wand and threw him a hard Stupefying spell. How was I supposed to know I shouldn't have put that much force in it?
So he's lying in the Hospital Wing now. I wonder if I'll survive today?Breakfast, Great Hall
I never knew how many first-years hated me.
I was just innocently walking down the hall (ok, so maybe I was hexing Pansy's head bald, but that is to be expected) when a bunch of them, from all different houses (INCLUDING SLYTHERIN, GASP) stopped me and started firing off random spells.
Of course, it was hilarious, seeing as the most they knew were spells to make your garden look greener, but I decided they were annoying.
So, all right, maybe I hexed a few of them.
So maybe sixteen out of twenty isn't a few. But they were attacking me first!
Luckily for me (or not so much), Snape appeared and chased them off. Our conversation went as follows:
Me: Uncle Sev, how nice to see you!
Snape: Shut up, you insolent brat. Do you wish to be expelled?
Me: No, I wish for chocolate and lots and lots of girls.
Snape, backing away: Draco, don't catch me doing things like that again. You can't afford to draw any negative attention to yourself with your father in jail. That episode with Potter was hard enough to cover up, but if a couple of first years ended up maimed?
Me: How about just severely Stunned?
Me: I don't see you complaining about Potter. I heard you got out the old bottle of Ogden's.
Snape: Draco Malfoy, I'll see you in detention on Friday.
So I have detention.
And Muggle Studies—no, Dance class tomorrow.
Damn it all. I'll just tell Voldemort Potter might be his long-lost son. That would drive anyone to use Avada.Arithmancy
I received a letter in the post from Mum today.
WHAT FRESH HELL.
She says that my cousins, on Lucifer's side (I've just given up trying with Lucius) who are from France are coming to visit.
I have to work on my French, she says, and that I have to find a suitable tutor while I'm here.
Like hell I will.
If I just use French here, I can tell her I've been practicing, right?
But Mum knows everything.
No, seriously, can your effing mum recite the name of every single girl you've dated and/or shagged? Without batting an eyelash?
I'm beginning to think I should post something up. Next Hogsmeade weekend, maybe? For now, I'll write in here. There is no point to Arithmancy anyways, so it's not like I'm missing anything.
Je m'appelle Draco Malfoy.
J'ai 16 ans.
Je suis très beau.
Eh. Can't be bothered to put more.Charms
Why is it that curse words from a different language always stick in your head?
Lucifer's nieces and nephews are very evil. Why am I even bothering to prepare for them, anyway? I hate them all, ever since the eldest boy chopped off the head of my pet salamander and laughed while the body shriveled up.Noon
This, mes petite amis, is why I need a Mindstreamer.Transfiguration
McGonagall is having us take notes.
I'm copying Pansy's later.
The Spawn Of Satan are from my aunt Lynnette who has married a Lucifer-look-alike, and his name is Orville. They have four children, which is four too many.
Solange, the second eldest at fourteen is quiet and doesn't bother me so much. She, like all her siblings, has blond hair, but she also has the lightest blue eyes. She has a familiar, a cat called Seymour who is actually a girl. I feel for it.
Sigourney is her older sister, and a twin. THE BITCH MUST DIE. She is eighteen, lives on her own with her boyfriend Javier from Spain, and the last time she visited me she was fifteen. I asked her what she wanted to be when she was out of school.
I swear to freaking God she said it, and I remember that she was going to be a Death Eater until she got offered a job hunting down dangerous animals and killing them in Scotland.
She should have been Lucifer's daughter, not me. (That came out wrong. I am NOT a girl.)
Then there's her twin, who's just as bad as her. He's the one who killed my salamander, and his name is Russell. I called him Brussels, once, as in the sprouts and he bent back my fingers until I cried then healed them before my Mum came in.
THEY MUST ALL FREAKING DIE.
And lastly is the baby, some spoiled facsimile fraud who thinks he can get away with everything, and you want to know what sucks?
He's my age, and he looks ALMOST EXACTLY LIKE ME.Advanced Potions
Was still upset over thinking of the Spawn of Satan, so of course I was late to Potions. The Weaselette had already started our potion—some random drink. I mixed in everything feeling particularly loathsome.
You want to know what the brat's name is?
There is a God.
BLAST! MERDE! No, TRIPLE MERDE!
I was laughing to myself about Gaylord when I tipped something over into the Weaselette's cauldron. She didn't notice, and I didn't say anything. But when she added the brimstone, the whole thing suddenly boils over and—
Everyone's covered in blue and purple slime that makes you feel like you've just rolled in dog crap.
So Sev docked points, Weaselette got detention, and I contented myself with watching Weasley almost suffocate. Damn Granger and her severing spells.
No one's attempted murder on me at all today. Everyone's gone. I mean, everyone.
We were having a late lunch today, anyways because someone snuck into the elves and set off a few bombs that caused temporary amnesia in the house-elves. But as soon as the last class let out, everyone just disappeared to some random place.
Merde. Did I miss a notice saying there was an orgy or something?Slytherin Common Room
Sitting in Plush Armchair alternately writing and hexing a first-year
I know why everyone was gone now.
I just turned down some random hallway, and once more I saw Potter, but this time there was a bunch of people surrounding him and cheering.
Every one quieted when I got there, though. The Slytherins were, as usual, hanging about in a way that was very amusant way, trying to act as though they weren't really there and so on. I had to try hard not to laugh.
But anyways, Potter is staring me down, and I have to think of a quick comment.
Me: You're not dead yet?
That was actually very good. But Potter doesn't say anything and for a while I started to wonder whether or not he had lost his voice when he suddenly looks all elevated and dignified and such. He looks at me and says, very clearly:
"Malfoy, I really feel sorry for you."
And then he walked away.
7:00 (First Year has been rescued by friends)
What the hell did he mean, sorry for me?
I'm Draco Malfoy! THERE'S NOTHING TO BE SORRY ABOUT WHEN YOU'RE ME!
Was he talking about Lucifer/Lucius? Or Pansy? Because, I know, I wouldn't mind so much, but I have this niggling feeling that's not what he meant.
Must die soon.
Blaise suggested I work on my list to keep my mind off things. Ok…
I could always have him and Potter play Risk to figure out who deserves to win the fight. Or Monopoly.
Who in blazing hell made up those games anyway?Wednesday, September 9th
DIAYOR (Do it at your own risk) class
Dancing needs to be outlawed, and also STABBED TO PIECES WITH A—ah, kuso.
The Weaselette has told me seventeen times that I need to stop cursing and get on with the freaking thing already. We're learning a waltz.
I am refusing to dance.Lunch, Great hall
Prof. Putain has decided to have us all learn a random dance and present it. I was all but Imperio-d to dance this class, and so I was not in a forgiving mood when I marched up to the front of the class and stuck my hand inside of the fricking hat that should also burn in the fiery depths of hell and pulled out a note that said TANGO.
Underneath it, in very small letters were the words 'Dirty Dancing'.
It fits Weaselette perfectly.
But I have to dance it too! MERDE. I have decided that I should just go up to Potter and say a couple of things about his mother, so he would do me the favor of executing me, but he is still acting all myterious and giving me this pitying looks.
Blaise and I watched a video once, a Muggle movie called You Got Served while we were at his Grandmother's vacation home. She loves anything Muggle, and I think she's drunk most of the time, but she's French and they love their wine so…
The point is, there were a few things there I can imagine using on Potter.
Potter : Malfoy. Die.
Me : Yo mama, fool.
Potter : Avada's me (the fool).
Ye Gods! If only it were that simple.
What is Dirty Dancing? We have to research it too, although I think girl Weasel already knows. She was looking ashen after I showed her the note.
Does it involve mud?
Pardon my French (when a French person curses, do they say Pardon my English?) but Weaselette is a girl, and she's not that unattractive, so it's only to be expected that I would think of her in mud.
If I added in a bikini to the end of the sentence, how long d'you think it would take Lucifer to find me and kill me?Ancient Runes
I'm going to the library after this class with Blaise to find out what fresh hell Prof. Putain has given us. That's not her real name, by the way. It's a curse…in French…but I'm calling her that from now on. PP for short.
Head Boy's Dorms
DIRTY DANCING? WITH THE WEASELETTE?
Eww…I have to touch her…
It's not fair. Blaise got the waltz, which everyone's been learning anyways. Weasley and Lovegood got Salsa, and Granger and Potter get the Flamenco!
That settles it. I must die.
Ye Gods! I will let the SOS do it! They will surely be happy beyond their wildest dreams, Sigourney and Russell especially.
So that's it. I have a plan. A fine, beautiful plan, but if I go out, I must go out with a bang. All will remember the name of Draconis Alexander Malfoy, GOD OF THE UNIVERSE.
I must remember to train Pansy to call me that.