Malfoy's Journal — LiveJournal
Below are the 10 most recent journal entries recorded in the "wickedboydraco" journal:
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Private to Harry
Potter, I'm about to do something exceedingly unwise. Convince me not to.
He's not bad. No, rephrase that. He's actually quite good. Most of it is just luck, I'm sure, but he does seem to pick things up remarkably quickly. We've been working on Fiendfyre this week and he seems to have discovered all by himself how to put the flames out again. Much though I'd like to I can't deny that Potter's got talent. He doesn't match me yet, of course, but I do think we're about ready to face the Death Eaters and be on equal footing with them, the two of us. Potter and I together against the world. Never thought I'd see the day.
Private to Harry Potter
Alright, what do you want for your birthday? And no, this is not a trick.
Hexed private from all other Slytherins, past and present
Potter has gone off to the other side of the planet to finish his education, Pansy has broken all ties with me and Mother seems determined not to listen to my advice concerning my ever so dear ex Potions Professor. I've not seen the Weasel, the mudblood, or any of those other people once, for which I suppose I should be thankful, but neither has the Order felt any need to contact me. I'm stuck here in my Great-Aunt's house for days and days with only that wretched Dobby for company and making no contribution to the war effort whatsoever. It's about time everyone came to their senses and started appreciating my value.
I'm not missing him, surely?
I'm eighteen. Don't all hug me at once.
Private to Harry Potter
Potter, we need to discuss the details of my moving to this house of yours. I have rather a lot of luggage, to be shipped from both the school and a storage facility in Wiltshire.
What a difference twenty-four hours can make. The day before yesterday I was a servant of Voldemort, just waiting until either he or his enemies would kill me. This morning I'm something of a stationary fugitive, still safe within the wards of Hogwarts but in all other respects alone. Dumbledore has been playing the kindly grandfather role, patient and hesitant to ask uncomfortable questions. I'm sure his true opinion of me is quite different, but for the moment at least I'm spared his wrath. The same goes for the Weasley girl and Potter's other little friends. I've yet to encounter any of them but considering the fact we still share a school, and that I'm now a member of their group, a meeting is inevitable and I admit I dread it.
What of my own allies? Friends, lovers, family - all those I've come to rely on over the years. The common room appears uncomfortably silent. It appears a shift of power has happened while I was preoccupied with Potter, and dear Pansy now rules Slytherin the way I used to. Even Vincent and Gregory have taken to following her around. As for Pansy herself, we've not spoken at all, and it seems our break-up is definite. Mother, finally, is staying with Professor Snape despite my wishes, and though we have had something of a reconciliation over the journals such actions show she has a long way to go yet before I can trust her again. It appears all my bridges are burnt.
I would have written earlier, but for the slight inconvenience that for the past few hours I've been barely able to move. It began with anger. Fear, too, but the anger was dominant. I knew then that
Harry Potter was facing something unpleasant, probably Death Eaters but possibly Voldemort himself, and that I should steel myself for the pain that was to come. Still, nothing could prepare me for the agony. They were cutting him, collecting blood, and that alone told me my dear aunt Bellatrix was involved. Potter realised it too, but I didn't even need his confirmation in my head. She's always been a sadistic sort. Harry Potter had the good fortune of being able to pass out, but I was in the middle of my Divination practical, and after all it wasn't my blood that was being drained. I got a full and vivid dose. I tried to send Harry some feeling of hope, of peace, conjure up an image of green meadows and blue skies, but I don't know if any of it got through to him. It was hard enough to keep up appearances myself, sweating and groaning with exertion as I was. I barely got through the three hours consciously. Still, there was one bright spot. In the crystal ball and tea leaves I saw nothing but images of death and pain, so Trelawney's bound to give me a high mark.
So, I have made my choice, and soon I will return to Voldemort's hiding place to take his quarry from him. Harry has assured me his support and Dumbledore's protection, and even though I insisted on Substantia Necto I'm starting to feel like I trust him a little even of my own accord. Very strange experience. For the first time in what feels like forever I choose my own fate. If it is to be my doom then so be it. It is mine. And I actually feel rather good about it. Not ashamed, not terrified, not anything I've been for the past year. Proud. Yes, that's what I am. I'm proud of what I'm doing. That must mean what I'm doing is good.
From the moment
He he realises we're gone I'll be a hunted man. Malfoy Manor will not be safe, naturally. I'll need to find alternative lodgings. I could never have foreseen it, of course, but it is curious good chance that I've sent Mother away from home, for she won't be easy prey if she's living on her wits, away from her usual haunts. Still, I would have liked to have explained it to her myself. To explain why I did what I did. And what I'm doing now.
Private to Pansy
Another great change is upon us. I need to know if you're with me, if you'll follow me again this one last time.
Private to Narcissa
On the off-chance you're still reading this, wherever you are: how do you fare? You may want to get out of the country for a while, or at least get off the beaten path a little.
Before any more of you idiots ask me - no, I'm not giving any last-minute Potions tutoring. Sort your own mess out. This is NEWTs, not kindergarten.
I never thought I'd still be alive come NEWTs. Every day's a blessing, I suppose, but I would have brushed up on my Transfiguration more if I'd known I'd be here. This whole thing with Potter has taken up entirely too much of my time. Still, I'm amazed at how long Dumbledore and his people have lasted without getting anything even approaching a clue. Almost as amazed as I am at how well Potter's holding up under the Dark Lord's tender love and care.
I visited the house yesterday. It's eerie, devoid of furniture and such. I've had it all placed in storage. The first tenants are to move in sometime next month. Mother, meanwhile, hasn't made a peep since our owl correspondence on the day of Sleen's letter. I can't deny I miss hearing from her, but this is a lesson she has to learn. With any luck she'll be forced to grow up. Properly, this time.
Well, I'm back. Now it's only a matter of waiting until Dumbledore and his people come to take me away.
And so it ends. Be brave, Draconis Malfoy. Make your ancestors proud. You'll see them soon.
Private To Pansy
I have received word from Him. It is to happen today.
I love you.
Fortunately this whole ridiculous rumour about me kissing Potter is starting to die down a bit. Honestly, one would think there wasn't a war on at all, with the obsession the whole school (and more) suddenly had with my private life. There are priorities, people, and currently yours should be trying not to get killed. However, it might do the gene pool some good if a few of you were wiped out.
Private to Pansy
Just jewelry and roses again? Or will you allow yourself some chocolates this time? They're not that fattening, honestly, and even if they were it might not matter much anymore anyway.
I'm feeling lethargic. Nothing seems worth the effort anymore. In a month or so I will take Potter to face his doom. Then either Voldemort will kill me or the Dumbledore's people will. Nobody trusts me anymore. I've burned all my bridges, or at least the ones father had left standing. It's hard to be motivated when you've got only death to look forward to. Even Crabbe and Goyle have gotten it into their thick skulls that I'm worried about something. They asked me what it was, but I couldn't tell them. I can't tell anyone anything.
Maybe mother can Maybe Pansy No, they wouldn't be able to do anything. This is my fate.
It'll be supper in a few minutes. I don't think I'll go down. I'm not hungry.
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