𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐅𝐎𝐘

Chapter 12

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

Chapter 12: April 17th – April 30th

Sunday 17th April.

Dear Diary,

Ugh. Oh God. Oh God. Oh.

Five minutes later.

Oh God. I don't want to sound melodramatic, but I really think I might be dying. I can't see properly and my head feels like it's going to fall off. I've been sick twice already this morning. I really think this might be the end. I have no idea what happened last night. What the hell was I drinking? My insides are burning.

Oh, I don't want to die! Not now, not like this!

I wonder how many people will come to my funeral. I suppose it is quite poetic, having my life snatched away before it has even begun. I expect people will write epic poems about it.

Oh, poor Harry! Oh, how can I leave him like this? He'll be heartbroken! He'd better be heartbroken. I expect he won't be able to forgive himself, seeing as he was the reason I went out and got drunk last night, resulting in my untimely death. I wonder if he'll come to my graveside, howling my name and trying to dig me out of the ground with his bare hands in manner of Heathcliff. Perhaps he'll commit suicide, unable to stand the thought of life without me. That would be romantic. I wonder... Gah!

Five minutes later.

It was just Pansy. She threw the curtains of my bed open and glared down at me. "Draco, for fucks sake! Will you stop lying around being a drama queen, moaning in agony?"

"Oh, I'm so sorry to disturb you, Pansy, but I HAPPEN TO BE DYING!" I yelled.

She had the audacity to roll her eyes. "Oh really, you are not dying. You're hung over because you got disgustingly drunk last night. Do you realise how much trouble you've caused, you bloody idiot? Here, take some of this." She handed me a bottle of Hangover-B-Gone Potion.

I took it very grudgingly, feeling mightily resentful that she was being so cavalier with my suffering. I am feeling a bit better now, though. Perhaps I won't die after all. Hmm, maybe I should have refused the potion. It would have made Pansy feel really bad if I died and she had spent my last few precious moments on this earth being mean to me.

Ugh. My head is clearing and bits of last night keep coming back to me in disturbing lumps. I remember getting to the gig and not knowing anyone and being a bit nervous. I remember thinking that a couple of drinks would restore my confidence. I think I started out on Vodka, but then this bloke who works as a store assistant in Dervish and Banges kept buying me these disgusting cocktails. Oh, I think I may have danced on the tables at one point.

I could do with some chips.

I suppose I'd better get out of bed.

Fifteen minutes later.

Oh dear. I've upset all my friends. I've just had a lecture from them. I finally stumbled down into the common room to find them all sitting around looking very serious. I really wasn't in the mood for it. The only thing I was in the mood for was something deep fried and smothered with ketchup. Still, I could tell from the looks on their faces that I wasn't going to get away that easily.

"Feeling better?" Pansy asked darkly.

I nodded, curling up in an armchair and wrapping my dressing gown tightly around me.

"You really had us worried last night, Draco," Vince said. "When you hadn't come back by one in the morning, me and Greg went out to find you. You were lying in the road on the way back from Hogsmeade, singing to the stars and rambling on about how Harry should just go off and marry the Snitch, or something. You didn't want to come back with us, and then you threw up on my shoes. We were really bloody worried about you! We had to carry you back to the school in the end. See, you always go off and do your own thing, don't you? You never think about the people who might care about you, you--"