The Chronicles of Draco Malfoy
It doesn't matter if you're able to produce only ten, twenty or, two thousand words. Write.
Please stop prickling my conscience with your advice, as I have a very good reason why I'm not yet writing anything down.
And for the record, with this entry I have already written forty or so words, so, HA!
Oh, yes, I'm sure many are aware that I have not been focusing too much on my writing these days. Which is frustrating, let me tell you. I know that I am depriving millions of people the chance to witness my ingenuity, but that is nothing compared to the consequences it has left me! The shame! The hurt! The emotional scarring in my poor pure heart!
Truth is, my muse has disappeared indefinitely without giving me a bestselling novel to sell in the market. Consequence of this, of course, is that my being a writer has become a farfetched - but still foreseeable and profitable - future.
And, of course, there are other, more painful reasons why I cannot write.
"What?" seethes my gorgeous self. "I have to… what?"
Pansy gestures towards a hideous-looking attire currently marring the perfection of my elegant sofa. "Since the wedding is on again – as you very well know - I'm feeling a bit more generous these days. Thus, I present… tada!" She runs her finger down the attire's hideous sleeve. "Your suit! I bought it and brought it just for you. Isn't that nice of me? Isn't that kind of me to do so? Doesn't that make me a saint of some kind?"
"You mean--" Words fail me at this point, which happens almost, oh, next to never. Not to a genius wordsmith such as I! "That's—"
Pansy bats her completely fake lashes at me. "Oh, do stop. I know you love the suit – why, I know I do! Ron picked it out for you, he did. And I approve. Wholeheartedly. Imagine hordes of girls swooning at your feet, Draco! This will just bring out the silver sparkle in your glorious eyes, and the platinum highlights in your golden tresses!"
Well of course I have hordes of girls swooning at my feet! Even without the suit, especially without the suit! But the suit?
It has to die. Preferably a slow, painful, horrible death.
HA! I knew it! I knew it was too good to be true. Weasley has never really reconciled himself with the fact that I'm on the good side now, and he just pretended that he is friends with me, all the while plotting this ingenious scheme of me wearing an absolutely insipid, appalling, repulsive attire to his wedding! He's planning on humiliating me in front of everyone, as his revenge for my past sins… that, that pea-brained, harebrained, no-brained—
Pansy's better qualities are rubbing off on him, that's for bloody sure. Imagine, a Slytherin Weasley unleashed upon the world! The horror! Why, that's just as terrible as having a Gryffindor Malfoy out there in the open!
Which I vow will never ever happen! My loins will never permit such a thing!
"Let's just get one thing bloody certain, Parkinson—"
But Pansy shows almost no regard for the possibility of her excruciating, untimely death at the hands of a trusted person currently reaching for her spine.
"Oh, no need to thank me, you know. I love helping people—"
Imagine a human Pansy! The abomination!
"—like the way I love adopting stray puppies and kittens and doing good things, plus this is perfect, since in the wedding—"
"See here, Parkin—"
"—you and Granger are going to be walking together, so we thought—"
"WHAT?" All right, I know talking in caps lock is a major offense to all that is good and holy in literature, and that it is probably registered and licensed to be used only by Potter on random sporadic moments, namely when he is insanely angry or just plain insane and ugly – which is an everyday occurrence, but— "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?"
Pansy rolls her eyes. "We've already talked about this! You said yes!"
"I will only say yes to that if you were able to get me inebriated, tied to a chair, and cursed with Imperio!"
More with the rolling of the eyes. "How else do you think I was able to get you to say yes you difficult bastard?"
Indignation sparks an angry tinder in my tongue. "That does not count."
"It does, too!"
See, this is how you settle an adult argument – by using childish tactics.
"I'll tell Weasley you slept with Potter if you make me walk down the aisle wearing that, that abomination of a suit! And with Granger, of all people! If you think that's going to happen then you're high I tell you, HIGH!"
Pansy's face turns to an ugly shade of violet. "What the hell are you talking about? Potter and I? We never… wait a minute! Is this another product of your deluded mind? Are you actually writing about a sexual encounter between Potter and me, probably along a dank and dim-lighted alley? Are you… fantasizing something NC-17 actually happening between us, with him pushing me to a wall to have his dastardly way with me? Why you perverted—"
I cringe. "Mind my mind's virginal eye! Damn you for the thought, Parkinson!"
"And damn you for faulting my taste! What the hell is wrong with the suit?"
I point at the offensive piece of hellish clothing. "For one thing, it's not something I chose! And, excuse me, what do you mean I need it highlight my features? I do not need anything to highlight my beautiful features for I am already perfect!"
Take that, ugly person with absolutely no taste whatsoever!
"What about Granger, huh? What have you got against her? Excluding the blood oath you both took in order to kill each other, of course… I mean, didn't you two patch things up? Didn't you frolic towards the warm sunshine of eternal friendship whilst holding hands?"
I stare at her. "You have no right to exhibit your lack of artistic license, Parkinson. Why, the words you just used to describe our current situation are abysmal, to say the least. This I know, because I'm a writer."
Then Pansy sighs.
Which is not a good sign.
"I'm going to have to use my advantage against you, aren't I?" she says in her sinister, apocalyptic, nightmare-inducing – ergo, normal – voice.
Gasp! "You wouldn't."
But Pansy already has that evil glint in her eyes. "Who should know your dirty little secret first? Potter, who has numerous contacts on the newspapers? Granger, with her many acquaintances? Perhaps I should send a copy of your—"
"All right! All right, damn you!" This is beyond irritating. A person having an advantage over moi! Why, that has never happened before! I have never allowed any person who has an advantage over me actually live!
But that was before I have found the error in my ways. I have forever closed that chapter in my heart, turned my back on evil, sought ways to redeem myself…
"You know, one of these days I will find something repulsive to use against you to ultimately ruin your life, you conniving little witch."
"Ha." She smiles, blows me a kiss. Which I promptly avoid. "Good luck with that."
I give her the finger.
She gasps. "Excuse me?"
I roll my eyes. "It's the wrong finger, Parkinson. I mean – just one."
"I will only give in to one of your ridiculous requests. So, either I wear that vomit-inducing suit, or I will walk down the aisle with Granger."
…not for that reason, thank you!
See, since this is a lose-lose situation, I may as well let Pansy choose one death instead of me experiencing both death sentences at the same freakin' time.
She frowns, and I strengthen my resolve. She breathes in, and I brace myself. She opens her mouth, and I prepare for battle.
There's no way I will do both things at once!
YOU HEAR ME!
"Fine." She smiles, mulls it over a little…
… then disappears with a loud SNAP.
That went rather splendidly, if I may say so myself.
So, I guess I'm stuck with wearing the nightmare-giving suit, aren't I? Sigh.
Bright side: my inner glory will suffuse the clothes, enabling the people to see the beauty of me, and not the hideousness of the suit.
Yes, that's it. Nothing is ugly as long as it's on me. Just look at Mugshots. He's not as repulsive as before, is he? That's because he has been exposed to me! Bearer of beauty, giver of grace, supplier of splendor… you know, the usual drivel.
Fine. Might as well fit the damned suit and see if there are any salvageable—
Pansy left the suit on my sofa, didn't she?
But it's not there! It's not there at all! I checked! I checked everywhere!
A thought dawns upon me; nay, a possibility, grim and true.
Does this mean…
OH BLOODY HELL.
See, I have this brilliant idea. I will conspire with Granger to have both of us shoot down the idea of us actually walking down the aisle together. This way, Pansy and Weasley will actually have to reconsider and give in to our plan of, you know, not walking down the aisle together.
It's the perfect plan.
So, being the good person that I am, I walk to Granger's door. I thought about popping in uninvited but that may annoy her enough to reject my proposal. Shame, though. I mean the opportunity to pop in on her whilst unclothed…
I was about to knock when her voice reaches my ears.
"You can't make me, Ron!"
What the bloody hell is going on in there? Is Weasley… forcing himself… on…
"But, Hermione!" whines the bloody prat, "it's my wedding!"
Oh. No forcing of that kind, then.
"Then go be wed! I'll attend it, I'll walk if you want to, but not with… him!"
All right. I know that her attitude is already in accordance with my most perfect plan but FOR THE LOVE OF ALL GOOD THINGS WHY THE BLOODY HELL NOT?
"Why not?" Weasley echoes the G-rated version of my thoughts.
"Because I don't want to, okay? Let's leave it at that."
My curiosity peaked, I open the door, to their surprise. Granger turns an entertaining shade of red and opens her mouth to yell at me, but I beat her to it.
"May I remind you that I will be the most magnificent person in that wedding? You should be proud to have the opportunity to walk down the aisle with me, woman!"
Weasley nods profusely.
Granger points at me, looking at Weasley the entire time. "You see? This is why I don't want to!"
I laugh. "You're not making any sense, Granger. A fact that I already know, mind you. Let me tell you, I myself resent that Weasley and his dimwitted, soon-to-be bride actually thought of us… together! Together! An absurd idea, if I may say so myself!"
She smiles. An actual smile that made a vast difference to her face. And it's aimed at me! Hmmm.
"There you go, Ron!" Granger says triumphantly. "Since we both refuse to do this then you better tell Pansy to think of someone else to pair us up with. I think anybody will suit just fine as long as it's not Malfoy."
All right. I know that her attitude is already in accordance with my most perfect plan but FOR THE LOVE OF ALL GOOD THINGS WHY THE BLOODY HELL NOT? WHY THE BLOODY HELL NOT?
The thought of her… in someone else's arms…
"I changed my mind."
Two heads swivel to face me. "What?"
I give her my infamous smirk before telling Weasley, "I'll do what you want. Tell Pansy I'll walk with Granger."
She becomes entertainingly pale in the face. "…what?"
Weasley, on the other hand, smiles hugely, idiotically, his eyes sparkling like sapphires and an intention of hugging me visibly popping to his brain.
"No hugs! Just go!" I shriek. In a manly manner, of course.
"What are you doing?" Granger shrieks, too. "I thought you don't want to do this? What's the purpose of all your ranting about not wanting me as your partner if you--"
I cross my arms. "The thought of me rejecting you is acceptable. The thought of you, rejecting me, is not. Henceforth you shall do as I say, and I say, start picking up your dress!"
I turn away from Granger, just as she inhales deeply. I know that she is about to start her logical rant with a thesis statement and punctuate it with a logical conclusion, so I think about my options, which include shutting her up, hexing her, and bolting out the door.
Just then, I notice Weasley acting… strangely.
Like a person whose plan has successfully come to fruition.
Like a genius who has lain out events and watched as they each came true.
Catching my eye, Weasley abruptly throws at me a huge grin with matching winks, before disappearing from view.
A possibility dawns upon me. Was this… all of this… an elaborate plan, in itself? Weasley's plans all along? He foresaw my eventual turnaround and used the only means of actually achieving it…?
A shiver of fear runs delicately through my spine.
Dumbledore save us from intelligent, cunning Weasleys!
Author's Notes: Oh my God, that chapter came in terribly late. This is dedicated to all those who tirelessly followed up on this story… Thank you very much, God bless you, and see you next chapter!