𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐅𝐎𝐘

Chapter 5

The Secret Diary of Draco Malfoy: Aristocrat, Ne'er-do-Well, Rampant Homosexual.

Chapter 5: 19th December – 8th January.

Saturday 19th December.

Dear Diary,

Ah, I'm so glad to be home. My very own bedroom! My very own bathroom! No one to complain about the amount of toiletries I have! Ah, bliss... And you know what the best part is? I no longer have to look at Blaise's smug face every single day.

I do miss Harry, though. I saw him briefly on the train – we passed each other in the corridor. There wasn't much room, so we had to squeeze past each other to get by. I didn't miss the opportunity to press myself up against him a little. Shameless, I know. He was on his way back to his carriage, but seemed happy enough to stop for a quick chat. Apparently, he'll be staying with Weasley's family for the holidays. He seemed quite happy about this, bless him. I asked if Blaise would be joining him, and he looked a bit uncomfortable and said that the two of them were probably going to meet up, but that he didn't want to impose on Ron's mum. I can't blame him – can you imagine Blaise as a house guest? Harry didn't seem too disappointed about it. He looked a bit upset, and I wanted to ask what was wrong, but we were on a crowded train, so I couldn't. I just wished him a happy Christmas and went back to my carriage. Well, I'm going to have to write to him now. If Blaise has done something to upset Harry, I feel it is my duty to find out about it and aggravate the situation. For the common good, you know.

Mum took me shopping earlier to buy me some more clothes. I found the most outrageous shirt with these big flouncy ruffles at the collar, and a beautiful green velvet jacket. Mum also agreed to buy me these amazing pointy Italian boots, because patent is in this winter and she wants me to look up-to-date. I put on a fashion show when we got home to show off my new things. Mum got really into it, but Dad just looked on in despair, knocking back the gin. Poor Daddy.

Sunday 20th December.

Dear Diary,

I take it all back – I hate being at home! My mother is doing my head in. I have just spent the last hour sitting in her dressing room, looking through carpet samples for the downstairs study with her. She thinks that just because I'm gay, I must be terribly interested in all aspects of interior design. Whenever I come home, it's always, "Oh, Draco, would you advise me on what curtains we should get for the lobby?" or, "Draco, darling, my friend Luella von Unworth has just had a new bathroom put in – do come and see it, you'll love what she's done with the tiles!" Worst of all was, "Draco, dear, would you be an angel and help me get into my new pencil skirt? I just can't manage the zip!" Urgh. Nobody needs that. I don't care about curtains or bathroom tiling, and just because I fancy other men doesn't mean that I am okay about helping my mother get dressed! It's traumatised me for life! I never even go into the downstairs study – what on earth would make her think that I would take the slightest bit of interest in what kind of carpet she puts in there? Now if she wanted my advice on hiring a hot new gardener, we might have something to talk about.

Coming out to my parents last year was a bit of a let-down. I'd got myself all psyched-up for a dramatic showdown, involving them threatening to throw me out of the house or at least cut my allowance. I had a self-righteous speech all planned out about how I aimed to single-handedly fight against oppression and stand up for gay rights everywhere. I imagined returning to school, bravely telling my peers that I had to be true to myself even though it had cost me the good favour of my family. Oh, how they would have admired me! I'd even bought an emo sweatshirt with a hood especially for the occasion. But sadly, my plans were to no avail. At least Dad had the good grace to suggest that I was going through a phase. Mum just clapped her hands and said "Oh, fantastic! Tell me, darling, do you think I should get layers put in my hair? I want to update my look, but I'm not sure I could carry it off." Hmph.