FIC & ART: Draco Malfoy's Diary (Harry/Draco, Theo/Draco)

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Title: Draco Malfoy’s Diary
Author/Artist: writcraft 
Prompt: PROMPT #38
Adapted from: Bridget Jones’ Diary (an amalgamation of the book and the film)
Pairing: Harry/Draco, Theo/Draco, past Harry/Ginny
Word Count/Medium: ~11,800 words, GIMP 2.0, Wacom Tablet
Rating: R
Contains (Highlight to view): *Infidelity (not between Harry/Draco)*
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: Thank you to the bottom_draco mods for their considerable patience as I worked to get this finished. Thanks also to susannah_wilde for such a fun prompt – I’m afraid it didn’t lend itself to NC-17 in the end, but I hope I did this justice and you enjoy it nonetheless! Thank you to my cheerleader and beta who reassured me I wasn’t going mad with this fic and who offered lots of support and encouragement with both the fic and art.
Summary: Draco Malfoy decides that this year will be different. He will stand up to his father, stop getting irritated with his mother, give up smoking and find a suitable man. He chronicles his success (or lack thereof) in a diary.





NEW YEAR’S RESOLUTIONS


I WILL NOT

Allow my parents to marry me off to a witch they believe is ‘suitable’ because she might advance their social standing and give me an attractive child as Malfoy heir.

Allow my parents to marry me off to anyone.

Be ashamed of being a Malfoy.

Spend any more of my inheritance on hair thickening remedies with exorbitant price tags unless they have been proven to work.

Fall in love with any of the following: oafs, morons, future Dark Lords, workaholics, shopaholics, gold-diggers or Hufflepuffs

Wear long-sleeved shirts, even in the summer, because I don’t want anyone to see the Mark on my arm.

Shout at mother.

Listen to mother.

Smoke.

Spend any more of my time doing demeaning work for Theodore Nott which leads to unhealthy thoughts about being bent over his desk receiving a good fucking.

Waste any more time getting irritated with Potter.

Think about Potter.

Breathe the same air as Potter.


I WILL

Befriend a Muggle.

Tell mother to stop interfering in my love life.

Stop living off my inheritance and get a proper job worthy of my NEWTs, that doesn’t involve being Theo’s personal assistant, fuck buddy, note-taker, pencil-pusher or cock sucker.

Find someone worthy of me who won’t be scared away by mother, father or the Dark Mark.

Find someone worthy of me who won’t be attracted to the Dark Mark.

Learn how to cook so I am not perpetually reliant on Malfoy house-elves who are under strict instructions to inform mother and father what I have been up to.

Stop drinking martinis in favour of a more masculine drink such as beer Châteauneuf-du-Pape.

Throw out clothes I no longer wear, even if they are Ozwald Boateng.

Throw out toys my father gave me when I was a child. There is really no excuse for a man nearly in his thirties to have a stuffed dragon next to his bed.

Stand up to my father.

~

JANUARY


1 January

Cigarettes smoked 20, Hairs found on pillow 3, Martinis consumed 4 (so far, and the night is still young)

Mother and father have another idea for ingratiating themselves back into Wizarding society. They have decided to organise a party and are insisting I attend, despite the fact I would rather be locked in my flat with an angry Hippogriff.

Mother is really quite unbearable. She reminded me again that they plan to invite Potter and wouldn’t it be nice if Potter and I could spend a little time together, so the press could see the Malfoy family has finally started moving in the right circles.

“You know how important it is to your father and I to establish our position in society again.”

“I doubt Potter’s going to help you do that, he’s not exactly a fan of yours.”

“Harry owes me his life, darling. I’m quite sure he will attend and conduct himself with civility.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.”

“I expect you to be polite to him – perhaps you could take him aside for a chat? Reminisce about old times.”

Old times. Would that be the time I made the whole school wear Potter Stinks badges, or the time he scarred me for life by cutting my torso open? Maybe mother believes we can have some laughs talking about the good old days, when father tried to kill him.

I am increasingly convinced mother is going bonkers.

“Can you remember what Harry liked to eat at school? We would like to ensure the catering is to his tastes. I wonder if he will bring that awful – delightful – Weasley boy with him, the one who looks a little more raggedy than the rest? I understand his opinion carries a lot of weight at the Ministry these days.”

“I very much doubt it – I’m still not entirely sure why Potter’s coming.”

“Like I said, darling – he owes me a favour. You do know he’s filthy rich, don’t you? He came into part of the Black inheritance after his godfather died. I do think you might make more of an effort with him. Even after the divorce he is still easily one of the wealthier society wizards, not to mention his influence with the Ministry – you did hear he is running that trial at the Wizengamot all by himself, didn’t you?”

“I could hardly miss it when it’s been on the front page of the Prophet for the last week. In any event, why on earth does it matter to me if Potter has money or not?”

“I’m simply pointing it out. You could do a lot worse than Harry.”

Twenty nine years of age and my mother has decided to become my own personal matchmaking service, trying to palm me off on anyone with enough influence to make her and father popular again. This, diary, is what my life has become.

At the rate this year is going I shall be left to die here alone, half-balding and drowning in martinis while my lifeless body becomes nothing more than a footstool for the house-elves.

Not enough champagne later: I cannot believe this is how I am spending the first day of the rest of my life. I was quite determined this was to be my year for finding someone with enough brawn to fuck me against my bedroom wall and enough brains to share a glass of claret and talk about the Gringotts crisis afterwards.

Instead I appear to have found myself surrounded by people who I barely know, who continue to yell my name drunkenly over the chamber music while mother regales the lucky few with entertaining stories about their charitable activities.

Potter is here, naturally. Mother made an announcement when he arrived, clinking his glass and heralding his presence to the assembled guests. A few awkward pictures later and Potter has settled himself next to the buffet. He was talking to one of the house-elves when mother dragged me over to parade my misery in front of him.

“Harry! You remember Draco, don’t you?”

“Vaguely.”

That lying git.

Potter was smiling. He had the nerve to stand in my family home looking messy and rumpled and too bloody smug for his own good. Vaguely, indeed.

“Good evening, Potter. What the hell are you wearing?”

“This?” Potter frowned and looked at his jumper. It was green which was about the only thing going for it, with what appeared to be a snitch fluttering over his shoulder and a poorly knitted ‘H’ in the centre. It was vile. “Molly gave it to me for Christmas.”

Well that explained it.

“It’s rather Slytherin.”

“I like green,” Potter shrugged.

“You’re divorced now?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, yes.” Potter scowled and I glared right back at him.

“I’m only asking.”

“I heard some rumours about one of the Greengrass sisters?” Potter arched his eyebrow and I resolved to throttle my mother and her rumours.

“Nonsense.”

“So you’re single?”

“Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Right.” Potter smiled at that and if I wasn’t a better man I would have punched him in the nose.

“You’re infuriating. I’m going to go and speak to someone else.”

“See you around, Malfoy.” With a grin, Potter turned back to the buffet looking unspeakably happy about something.

I noticed Potter had an irritatingly thick head of hair and pulled a face behind his back for good measure before mother called me over.

“Goodness darling, what a funny expression. Do try to look a little more cheerful, there is someone I would like you to meet. You do remember Astoria Greengrass, I assume?”

Midnight: Vaguely. I hate Potter. Hate him, hate him, hate him.



~

10 January

Cigarettes smoked 10, Hairs found on pillow 23 (at this rate I shall be bald by Christmas)

Theo suggested I help him out at work today. He works for WAWPA, the Witches and Wizards Publishing Association and apparently they have a new author on their books. I expect I shall be asked to proof read some dreadful tripe and make notes in the margins until my hand hurts.

Still, it’s not as if I have anything better to do and mother threatened to come over this afternoon. It seemed to be as good an excuse as any to put her off, which is precisely how I found myself sitting opposite Theo on a Saturday afternoon, frowning at a book with a pair of handcuffs on the front.

“Is this some sort of crime novel?”

“Hardly,” Theo snorted. He leaned forward and tapped his wand on the cover, just above the title. “Different Shades of Dominance. It’s kinky.”

“It is?” My interest piqued, I flipped through the pages slowly. Perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“Erotica is the new crime thriller.” Theo nodded sagely and gestured to a growing pile of manuscripts. “Seems like everyone wants sex at the moment – the filthier the better.”

“Tell me about it,” I muttered. “You’re publishing porn?”

“Not porn - erotica - there’s a distinction.”

“I see.” I picked up one of the manuscripts and ogled the title. “The Craft of Caning?”

“That one needs a new title.” Theo took the manuscript and flicked through it with a grimace. “It needs a new bloody protagonist too. Possibly a new author.” He grinned and arched his eyebrow. “I wouldn’t have thought of you as being such a prude, Malfoy.”

“I’m not a prude.”

I wasn’t, of course. It was just very distracting thinking about kinky things with Theo sitting less than five feet away and grinning like that.

I had spent seven years at Hogwarts with Theodore Nott and I hadn’t thought about him once as a potential suitor. He had been intelligent enough for me to consider him worthy of my time, but I certainly hadn’t thought about him in the same way as I had thought about Potter or Zabini. At school Theo was scrawny and his teeth were all over the place. I have always been partial to a man with good teeth and a nice smile.

“Theodore Nott’s back in the country,” Pansy had hissed four years ago as her drink sloshed over her glass.

“How interesting,” I had sneered, casting a bored glance at the door to the Leaky.

“Doesn’t he look just fabulous?.”

I had tried not to stare, drool or throw myself at Nott’s feet when I saw him because fabulous wasn’t the word. He had grown into himself and was disgustingly tanned and full of stories. He had also done something to his teeth. I was completely and utterly doomed.

“How’s the love life, Malfoy?”

“Don’t ask me that.”

“Why? I’m curious.” Theo continued to grin and leaned forward. “I would have thought someone would have snapped you up by now.”

“I’m very picky.”

“I see,” Theo laughed. He shuffled through the papers and gestured to the door. “You can take that one with you, if you like and give me your thoughts tomorrow.”

“Fine.”

“Malfoy?” Theo didn’t look up from his papers but he was still grinning. “Maybe you and I should go out for supper one of these days?”

I tried to ignore the pounding of my heart and schooled my face carefully in my attempts to hide my reaction.

“Are you asking one of your employees out? I believe that constitutes sexual harassment.”

“Funny…I had the impression you wouldn’t mind being harassed.” With a grin, Theo looked up and gestured to my trousers, his gaze lingering on the crotch. “It’s not every employee that wears trousers that tight for a day of work.”

“They’re not tight. They’re Prada.” I glared at Theo as he chuckled to himself and he nodded.

“I like them. Wear them again tomorrow.”

I spent the night rooting around in my cupboard for my leather trousers. I can’t say I would usually be caught wearing them anywhere which doesn’t have strobe lights and a healthy dose of people gyrating to something cheesy, but tomorrow I would make an exception.

11pm: It occurs to me that I should consider travelling myself. I would be quite happy on a beach sipping pina coladas and watching the sun set, preferably with a handsome bartender keeping my glass topped up at all times.

~

14 January

It seems that Potter is causing trouble at the Wizengamot. The Prophet has been full of it for days and mother can’t seem to help interfering.

“Have you seen the papers, darling? I do wonder if we should invite Harry for supper and offer him our assistance.”

“What on earth could we assist him with?” I balked at mother and wondered again if she was quite sane.

“Your father has some ideas which might help with the conduct of his trial. Perhaps Harry would be interested in hearing them?”

“I don’t think Potter wants to be within ten feet of father, let alone taking legal advice from him. Honestly, Mother.”

It was something of a surprise to me when Potter resigned from his post as Head Auror on his twenty fifth birthday and threw himself into Magical Law Enforcement. Largely because it has been a long held opinion of mine that Potter can’t actually read.

After rising through the ranks of the Ministry with alarming speed, Potter and the Weasel would appear on the pages of the Prophet with nauseating frequency, looking at something seriously or giving curt interviews about a Top Secret something or other. Weasel had been left in charge and by all accounts is doing a better job than Potter. I suspect Granger is helping him along behind the scenes, it’s the only explanation.

Ever since he finally got the requisite qualifications, Potter has been fighting one cause after another. If I see one more interview with Potter rambling on about justice I am going to personally tell the Prophet that the great Harry Potter was using Dark magic in his sixth year. I bet they don’t know he’s a Parselmouth. That revelation would shake things up – no wonder he’s so bloody keen on magical creatures.

His latest mission involves representing werewolves who have been unable to find gainful employment since the war. Everywhere I look, there Potter is. It is beyond infuriating.

Harry Potter is taking the Wizengamot by storm with his new trial which advocates fair treatment of those suffering from Lycanthropy.

When asked about the upcoming trial, Potter appeared reticent to give too much information. His gaze heavy with the memories of the war, Potter told the Prophet that he hoped his endeavours would deliver justice to those who have been unfairly marginalised by society.

On the subject of his recent divorce, some years after his separation from Ginevra Weasley, Potter refused to be drawn.

“My personal life is nobody’s business but my own,” Potter stated, his eyes shining with unshed tears, the agony of his unhappy romance etched on his face.

Damn Potter, tugging at the heart strings of every witch in the country.

I was sick of reading about it all and decided to go out for cocktails with Pansy and Blaise who were no help whatsoever.

“You always seem so fixated on Potter, darling – it’s quite precious.” Pansy sipped her cocktail and smiled brightly.

“I’m not fixated - I’m simply making the point his continued quest for celebrity is irritating. I don’t know why people are so interested in him.”

“Nothing wrong with a bit of celebrity.” Blaise sipped his wine which had cost an eye-watering amount of money. After Hogwarts Blaise had become a minor celebrity himself after discovering a talent for song writing and had made a fortune off the royalties from Your Wand is My Weakness and Accio My Heart. Not that Zabini needed any money. “Besides, he did save the world.”

“With a significant amount of help,” I noted.

“I think he’s rather attractive.” Pansy swirled her drink and leaned forward eagerly. “I wonder why he divorced Weasley? I always expected they would live happily ever after and be a shining example of the ‘perfect’ family.”

“I have no idea.” Blaise frowned and looked at me as if I was expected to know why Potter’s pretty wife had left him.

“Well I don’t know either. I heard rumours of a scandal, but nobody talked to the press.”

“A scandal?” Pansy looked interested. “I wonder if Potter’s a bit of a pervert?”

“Of course he’s not a pervert!” I found myself with a horrifying image of Potter wielding a whip in tight leather trousers and bit my bottom lip. “Why would you say that?”

“Because maybe it’s true.” Blaise laughed and winked at Pansy.

It was too late.

For the last hour I have been hard as a rock and the only thing I can think about is Potter getting kinky and making me assume the sort of positions I would never assume for Potter.

Damn Pansy and her fucking theories.

~

15 January

My head hurts.

I think I might be coming down with something.

I plan to spend the day in bed, eating chocolate ice cream.

~

16 January

Cigarettes smoked 0, Hairs found on pillow 5

Thankfully my mysterious illness seems to have been a twenty-four hour bug. I woke up to see the sun shining and decided to put some of my plans for the year into action. I finished reading Different Shades of Dominance and put it in my top drawer for further perusal at a more convenient time.

3pm: I decided writing a novel couldn’t be terribly hard if one was imaginative enough when it came to sexual matters. As I have spent a large part of my twenties thinking about very little else, I decided to write a love story about a brilliant, attractive, misunderstood Slytherin and his quest for love. I have only written the first chapter, but it’s really rather good.

4pm: Writing is a little tedious. I think I might send Theo an owl, suggesting he take me for dinner.

4:10pm: Fuck, fuck, fuck. I am owling Pansy immediately for an emergency summit.

“What on earth did you do that for?” Pansy widened her eyes and leaned forwards. “What possessed you?”

“I thought the flirting back and forth had gone on for long enough and suggested if he liked my tight trousers so much he might consider taking them out for dinner one night,” I grimaced and muttered the rest in the hope she might not hear. “Ideally with me in them.”

“And you have had no reply?”

“Well it’s only been half an hour.”

“Still,” Pansy replied with concern.

“You’re supposed to be making me feel better.”

“Am I not?” Pansy looked shocked and I let out a snort.

“No. You’re not.”

“I’m sure he’s just busy. Don’t worry so much, he would be a fool not to reply.” With a smile Pansy squeezed my hand as I continued to look gloomily at the window for the sign of a tawny owl winging its way towards me.

7pm: It has been three hours and I haven’t heard a word. I suppose he could be busy. He often is busy, after all. He mentioned he had just had an influx of new manuscripts. Perhaps he has been called away on urgent business and didn’t have time to send word.

8pm: No reply. The afternoon has been a write off. I have checked the windows at least a dozen times and tested the wards to make sure there was absolutely nothing which would stop an owl from getting through. It appears everything is in order.

9pm: I very surreptitiously called Theo’s office to speak to his secretary who seems to spend half her life there. I put on a high-pitched voice and asked if some harm had befallen him.

“No, he is quite well.”

“Good…I assume he has just finished his meetings for the day, or perhaps he has recently returned from a long lunch?”

“No, he’s been in his office all day, reading Wizards Weekly and eating toasted teacakes. May I ask who this is?”

I hung up at once.

Bloody Theo.

11pm: Why hasn’t he responded?

1am: Still nothing. I suppose I am destined to die alone. By the time I reach thirty I expect my hair to have disappeared entirely along with any hope of a sexually fulfilling entanglement that lasts longer than a quick shag and a couple of Bacardi Breezers.

~

19 January

Cigarettes 10 (packets), Hairs on pillow hundreds (the stuffed dragon is malting)

I have been quite unable to face the world since sending that owl. Pansy insisted I shower and leave the house to come and keep her company so I pulled on a black hooded jumper and some red tartan trousers and travelled to her flat under the cover of darkness.

“What are you wearing?” Pansy looked startled as I stepped out of the Floo.

“I’m trying to be discrete. It’s a disguise.”

“You travelled here by Floo – who exactly did you think was going to see you?” Pansy let out a snort and waved her hand towards a mahogany drinks cabinet. “Help yourself and come and tell me why you have spent the last few days moping.”

“I haven’t been moping. I have been trying to avoid Theo.”

“No reply, then?”

“Nothing.” I looked morosely into my cocktail before taking a healthy swig. “Perhaps he didn’t get the owl?”

“Perhaps,” Pansy didn’t look convinced. “Look…are you quite sure he’s right for you?”

“He’s handsome, successful, articulate…” I frowned. Why wouldn’t he be right for me?”

“I don’t know.” Pansy reached over and topped up my glass. “Forget I said anything. Just be careful.”

“At the moment he appears to be the only viable option.”

“Do you think so?” Pansy sipped her drink delicately and seemed to be thinking about something.

“Well who else?”

“No one I suppose.” Pansy reached for the paper and handed it to me presumably so I could get even more irritated at the sight of Potter’s face grinning inanely at me from the front page. “I assume you have seen the date for Potter’s trial has been set?”

“I haven’t exactly been keeping abreast of the news given my current situation.” I waved the paper at Pansy, giving her my best glare. “Why are you showing me this?”

“They are looking for additional reporters to cover other stories during the hearing.” Pansy tapped a manicured nail against a small advertisement at the bottom of the page. “Why don’t you apply?”

“I might.” The idea of being a reporter did appeal somewhat. “Thanks.”

Pansy smiled. “You’re welcome.”

Midnight: Draco Malfoy, Editor of The Daily Prophet. I like the sound of that.

I think I would enjoy having people writing me letters and addressing me as Sir.

1:00am: In a professional context, not in a kinky way as showcased in Different Shades of Dominance.

~

20 January

I finally had a reply from Theo. A bloody invitation to the launch of Different Shades of Dominance and a scribbled note on the front suggesting we might grab a bite to eat afterwards.

I have no intention of going, naturally.

2pm: I have nothing to wear. A wardrobe full of clothes and absolutely nothing to wear. What should one wear to a book launch anyway? The invitation didn’t specify and I want to make sure I look fabulous.

6pm: Three glasses of champagne later and yet again I find myself at a party standing in the corner and nursing my booze while everybody else in the room appears to be having more fun than me.

“Malfoy.”

“Potter.” I turned to see Potter looking smarter than usual in an expensive looking pinstriped suit. “No Weasley jumper tonight?”



Potter chuckled and adjusted his tie. “I wasn’t sure it was quite the night for it. I understand you work here on occasion?”

“On occasion, when Theo needs assistance – I hardly need the work, after all.”

“Of course you don’t.” Potter looked over to where Theo was currently speaking to a girl who looked familiar. “I forget this is Nott’s business.” Potter glared at that and I watched him curiously. I wasn’t sure I had ever seen Potter looking quite so stern about something. Apart from when he was talking about his wolves, of course.

“I was thinking about you the other day.” Potter had started to grin again and this time his eyes were fixed firmly on me.

“I would thank you not to,” I replied with a sniff.

“Do you remember when we used to play Quidditch?”

“I could hardly forget.” Merlin, Potter was a complete idiot.

“It occurred to me that of all of the people in my life it’s a little strange that I know what you like to sing in the shower.”

“You don’t know what I sing in the shower.” Good lord, Pansy was right. Potter was a total pervert.

“I’m Under Your Spell by Victoria Veela and the Cornish Pixies.” Potter looked annoyingly smug and I cursed the fact I could feel my cheeks heating.

“Incorrect.”

“Oh shut it, Malfoy - I’m right, aren’t I?” Potter crowed and sipped his champagne. “You used to hum it in the showers after Quidditch matches.”

I wanted to demand to know why exactly Potter thought it was acceptable behaviour to watch me shower, but we were interrupted by Theo’s secretary who ushered me away to tend to some urgent business.

“I didn’t realise you and Potter were such good pals.” The urgent business appeared to be Theo, who stood on the balcony, leaning over the rails and smoking a cigarette, a strange look on his face.

“Don’t be ridiculous – I can’t stand Potter. It just so happens that he appears to be everywhere I go at the moment. It’s beyond infuriating.”

“Right.” Theo offered me a cigarette and I took one, resolutions be damned.

“Do you know why his wife left him?”

“Why would I know?” Theo snorted and narrowed his eyes. “I heard he was difficult to live with after the war. Something about the Dark Lord having got into his mind, I think – I can’t really remember the facts.”

“I see…so he’s a bit of a nasty bastard?”

“Apparently so,” Theo shrugged. “Not someone you’d want to take up with in any event. I imagine he’s got a fair bit of baggage.”

“Of course,” I replied.

The plot thickened. It didn’t seem quite right somehow that Potter would have turned into an evil overlord, but nobody ever really knows what goes on behind closed doors. I would have thought it far more likely that the Weaslette would have left because Potter spends the majority of his time behaving like he has his wand thrust up his arse. Not to mention the fact that conversing with him is about as interesting as watching paint dry.

“I believe I owe you and those trousers of yours dinner,” Theo smirked.

“So you received my owl, then? Good of you to reply.”

“I was busy,” Theo shrugged. He leaned in and I could feel his breath ghost over my face. “I know a great little Chinese restaurant in Muggle London. Do you fancy getting out of here?”

“But it’s your event, shouldn’t you be here?”

“Someone else can look after it. Come on, let’s go – I’m sick of looking at Potter and his cohorts, thinking they are better than everyone else. Besides, I’ve been meaning to take you out for a while now.”

“Well you’re lucky I don’t have any other plans,” I huffed. “I expect you to take me somewhere expensive.”

“Naturally.” Theo winked and placed his hand on the small of my back, ushering me forwards. As I left, I turned to see Potter staring at me. He had a strange sort of look on his face, his mouth set in a grim line as he fixed his eyes on me while Theo muttered something in my ear about Potter not having aged as well as the rest of us.

Despite the fact I would prefer to listen to an uprooted Mandrake than Potter, I don’t believe I agree with Theo. Potter looked rather good when he wasn’t sporting the latest hideous piece of Weasley-made knitwear. I couldn’t help but wonder why he looked ill. Perhaps the canapés didn’t agree with him.

9pm: Theo has gone to get another bottle of wine, so I don’t have very long. I might not be writing again for some time.

I expect to be too busy being fucked in every position imaginable.

~

28 January

Cigarettes 20 (all post-coital), Boyfriends 1

I have a bona fide boyfriend. He is handsome, successful and not remotely unhygienic. Not to mention his teeth are perfect.

I even told mother about it and despite the fact her face pinched a little at the emphasis on the word boyfriend, she seemed relatively pleased.

“I just hope he’s worthy of you, darling – and from a nice family.”

By ‘nice’ I can only assume she means Pureblood. Some things never change.

“Yes, mother – he is perfectly suitable. I do believe I shall ask him to attend your next charity event.”

“Super. Well I shall look forward to meeting him. I am sure your father will want to make sure you have chosen well.”

“No doubt.” I would have liked to tell her father’s opinion didn’t count for much of anything these days but it wasn’t strictly true. Despite the mess I still held him largely responsible for, I very much doubted mother had been blameless and I had chosen my side willingly enough. Father’s opinion still mattered to me, loathe as I am to admit it.

“Can you tell me who this mystery man is?” I noticed one of the house-elves appeared to be listening and I resolved to get cracking on my cookery lessons as soon as reasonably practicable. The last thing I wanted was a damned elf spying on Theo and I and reporting back to mother – particularly not if we began to enact scenes from Different Shades of Dominance - as irritating as mother was, I had no desire to give her mental images which would send her to an early grave.

“Not just yet, be patient.”

“As long as you’re happy, darling.”

Happy wasn’t the word for it. I believe now I understand why married people are so irritatingly smug.

Not that I want to get ahead of myself.


FEBRUARY


3 February

There is nothing more mortifying than sitting by oneself in a pub, nursing a warm martini after quite clearly being stood up. Theo had suggested we actually go out somewhere as opposed to spending all of our time at Theo’s flat or in his office. I had made the mistake of casually enquiring where we were going and had received the unhelpful suggestion that we could go to the Leaky if I fancied a drink.

I was starting to wonder if Theo was being deliberately obtuse.

“Evening.”

Potter. As if my evening couldn’t get any worse, there he was, in another hideous jumper and grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“Good evening, Potter. What a delightful surprise,” I sneered.

“I was just thinking the same thing,” Potter laughed. He grabbed a stool and settled himself at the table, his beer sloshing over his glass.

“You’re planning to join me?”

“If you don’t mind. Unless you’re waiting for someone?”

“No. Not at all.” I couldn’t very well tell Potter that I had been waiting for someone for the past two hours, without looking somewhat pathetic. I drained my drink and gestured to the bar for a fresh one.

“You’re still with Nott?” Potter had that odd, angry sort of look on his face again and I wondered at it. I wouldn’t have thought Potter would be offended by two men in a relationship but it seemed to be the only explanation.

“Indeed. Not that it’s any of your business.”

“I suppose not.” Potter glared at his pint as if it offended him and I watched him closely.

“Do you have a problem with my relationship, Potter?” My voice was curt and Potter looked up in surprise.

“Only in the sense that I’m not sure Nott is good enough for you.”

“You should let me be the judge of that.”

“Right,” Harry scowled. He turned his gaze back to me after a moment. “You thought I had a problem with you being in a relationship with another wizard?”

“You don’t?” I arched an eyebrow and gave Potter my best cool stare.

“It would be a bit hypocritical if I did.” With a wink, Potter drained his grin and then stood. “Well, I’ll leave you to it.”

“Thank you.”

Potter liked wizards. I did not know Potter liked wizards.

I wonder if that was why he had divorced his wife.

11pm: I left the Leaky shortly after Potter and I have been lying awake trying to get to sleep ever since. I am not sure why I am so surprised Potter isn’t entirely straight.

Perhaps he always looks so angry because he was hoping to have Theo all to himself.

1am: I have just woken up from a vivid dream which involved Potter’s wand, Parseltongue and the Quidditch broom shed.

I feel violated.

~

14 February

Theo has been away in New York for over a week and ever since the night in the Leaky I have wondered if something isn’t quite right. I have decided to stay indoors today, as venturing outside would no doubt mean I would be forced to watch people giving one another gigantic heart-shaped gifts and snogging in the middle of the street.

Valentine’s Day is a total nonsense.

I hate it, hate it, hate it.

11pm: The least I expected was a small box of chocolates. One card from my mother does not constitute a successful Valentine’s Day.

~

21 February

Theo is back from New York.

I walked past his office and saw the lights on and I couldn’t help going in. I opened the door and he was looking at something which he quickly shoved into his drawer when he saw me standing in the doorway.

“You’ve been away for a while. I was starting to get worried.”

“I was called away to New York on urgent business. Did you miss me, Malfoy?” Theo’s smile was slow and sexy, melting away my angry resolve somewhat.

“Of course not,” I huffed.

“I got you something.” Theo reached into his pocket and pulled out some slightly crumpled chocolates. “I grabbed them at the airport as I missed Valentine’s Day.”

“Oh…” I looked at the chocolates which looked as if someone had sat on the box. I suppose I should have felt a little put out by the lack of thought but I really had missed Theo and at least this showed he had been thinking about me. “How was New York?”

“Busy,” Theo shrugged. He stood and moved behind me, his arms circled around my waist. “I’m off to Hong Kong tomorrow – I only have a few hours before we leave. Any ideas as to what we can do with our time?”

I let out a moan and felt myself melt against Theo despite my better inclinations, as I twisted a little awkwardly to kiss him.

“No…no idea at all.”

1:00am: Theo has left for Asia now and his side of the bed is cold enough to indicate he must have left my flat some time ago.

I intend to write February off in its entirety.


MARCH

Cigarettes smoked 20 (smoking is good for heartache), Hairs found on pillow 13 (my hair appears to be thinning at an alarming rate)


4 March

Mother and father are trying to convince me to assist with their latest endeavour. They have taken it upon themselves to plough some of my hard-earned inheritance into a shelter for homeless crups. Considering my father used to enjoy kicking our house-elves and has never been seen within ten feet of a crup, I find the whole thing a little bizarre.

“Everybody loves crups, darling. I expect to receive a number of generous donations. Your father and I decided we needed the Malfoy name to be associated with something everybody adores.”

“I am simply not sure this animal shelter is the right way to achieve public adulation.” I furrowed my brow and looked at the brochures which mother waved under my nose. “I think something to assist families who lost their homes during the war might be more useful.”

“Nobody wants to be reminded of the war.” Mother looked horrified and I could hardly hold back a snort of derision.

“I think your charitable activities require a little more focus. I don’t think saving a few stray crups is going to make much of a difference when father was responsible for casting the Cruciatus on half of the Ministry during the war.”

“Don’t be so despondent, darling. Honestly.” Mother looked put out and I rolled my eyes at her complaining. I didn’t exactly agree with her methods but quite frankly I didn’t have the heart to get too involved.

After agreeing to adopt one of the strays for a sizeable sum of cash, I left and made my way to the Daily Prophet offices, where I hoped to wow the interviewing panel with my capabilities and exemplary exam results.

“Malfoy?”

This was not a good start. The room was stuffy and looked more like a broom cupboard than an office space. Pictures of Potter scratching his nose or doing something equally uninteresting were scattered on the desk and Barnabas Cuffe glared at me over his glasses.

“Yes, Draco Malfoy.”

“Draco Malfoy, former Death Eater - son of Lucius Malfoy, former Death Eater and friend of the Dark Lord?”

“I wouldn’t say they were friends, exactly.” Damn father and his propensity for the Dark Arts.

“No?” Cuffe jabbed a large finger in my direction and glared again. “Did you or did you not live with You Know Who during the war?”

“I did.” I grimaced and leaned forward. “Look, I know our name isn’t one people feel terribly fondly about at the moment but I can’t spend another second speaking to my mother about charitable activities. My only other option for gainful employment involves a man who may or may not be a complete shit, who I have started a completely inappropriate relationship with.” I scrabbled around for something which could help my cause and pointed triumphantly at the pictures of Potter. “Plus, I am friends with Harry Potter.”

“Friends?” Cuffe looked sceptical and I gave him my most angelic smile.

“Oh yes, we were drinking together at the Leaky just the other night.” I forced a laugh and shook my head, attempting to look fond. “Potter. He’s such a hoot.”

“A hoot?” Cuffe’s eyebrows went up to his hairline.

“Yes. Like that, me and Potter.” I held my fingers up, twining them together.

“Look, we’re in a real fix with this bloody trial. Potter won’t speak to anyone about it – he doesn’t seem to like the press much.” Cuffe leaned forward eagerly. “Get us an exclusive and the job’s yours, Malfoy – despite the fact I think your father is a pompous arse.”

“Not a problem.” I gritted my teeth and forced a smile, shaking Cuffe’s hand. “It’s a deal.”

“Wonderful.” Cuffe looked happier already. “Alright, Malfoy – we’ll set aside a spread for your interview for April when Potter’s trial finishes.”

“Brilliant,” I replied with false cheer. Why on earth had I promised them Potter? The only thing he disliked more than the Prophet was me and I was in no rush to befriend him at the behest of my parents and Barnabas Cuffe.

I would simply have to spend the next month making myself indispensable so that the Potter-exclusive wouldn’t be too much of a disappointment when it all fell through.

11pm: Draco Malfoy, Reporter for the Daily Prophet - I rather like how that sounds.

1am: I tried to Fire Call Theo to let him know my good news but I was informed he was otherwise engaged.

~

12 March

I had a feeling something was wrong for some time. Theo had been away for longer than expected and had been rubbish about making Fire Calls. But I wasn’t expecting the latest development in our dysfunctional relationship.

“Malfoy. Births, Deaths and Marriages. We need a half page spread preparing, chop-chop.”

“Of course.” I forced a smile and rolled my eyes at the pile of papers in front of me and sifted through them. I had thought being a reporter meant cracking cases and following Aurors around crime scenes, trying to find an exclusive. I had not anticipated being stuck in a cramped office and writing obituaries for ancient witches and wizards I had never met.

….are delighted to announce the engagement of their daughter…

Well there was some good news this week at least. I picked up the piece of paper and everything went cold.

“Malfoy! Look alive, stop staring into space and get a move on.”

“It’s a migraine.” I clutched my head which really did feel uncomfortably sore as a wave of nausea overwhelmed me. “I need to go home.”

“You can go to Timbuktu as long as you bring us the Potter exclusive.” Cuffe muttered about not being able to get the staff these days as I stood and made my way home as quickly as I could, the piece of paper still clutched in my hand.

…the engagement of their daughter, Astoria Greengrass, to Theodore Nott.

I didn’t even know Theo liked women. He had always seemed perfectly content to do the sorts of things two men do together with me.

Midnight: I have been quite unwell all afternoon and had to inform Cuffe I was taking the rest of the week off. No contact with Theo yet. I am hoping it’s all been a huge mistake.


13 March

It’s true. Theo is engaged to be married to the very Greengrass mother had hoped to marry off to me.

“Can I come through?”

“I don’t see why not.” I looked up as Theo stepped through the Floo. He looked rather sheepish. I couldn’t bring myself to care about the fact I was still in my pyjamas and hadn’t yet had time to run a comb through my hair.

“Look, I expect you’ve seen the news. I just wanted you to know it doesn’t have to change anything.”

“The fact you are engaged doesn’t have to change anything?” I sneered at Theo and felt quite sure I had never hated someone quite so much as I hated Theo for that. “Do you think I am going to be your mistress?”

“Well…” Theo looked uncomfortable and shrugged.

“I’m Draco Malfoy.” I pulled myself up to my full height and really wished I wasn’t wearing satin pyjamas which I expect ruined the effect somewhat. “I am worth more than that.”

“But we had fun, didn’t we, Malfoy?” Theo had the nerve to grin and I itched to pull my wand out and Hex him but I didn’t trust myself not to use the sort of curse which would land me in Azkaban.

“Get out.”

When Theo left I decided to Fire Call Pansy. She came round straight away with a huge tub of chocolate ice cream and some vodka.

I plan to sleep for the rest of the month.


20 March

Cigarettes smoked 25, Bottles of vodka consumed 1, Hours spent in bed yesterday 24

I had expected to be left in peace after my public humiliation, but earlier today I received an owl from Granger of all people.

Apparently she was having some sort of dinner party and had suggested I might like to attend to ‘put the past behind us’. It sounded horrifying and I was minded to send a strongly worded owl back to say I had no intention of attending, when mother called. After an hour of arguing with her and at her insistence that I should go, I sent a polite owl back to Granger informing her I would attend and thanking her for the invitation.

It was just as bad as I had thought it would be. I arrived to find myself seated by myself at the end of the table, while Granger and Weasel regaled those present with dull stories about their perfect children. Longbottom was there too and he kept glaring at me as if I was still of an age where I would throw his Remembrall into the trees. I vaguely recognised his wife from Hogwarts but I couldn’t remember her name and nobody bothered to introduce me.

Potter was there of course, with Finnegan and Thomas. He kept looking at me as he talked, his voice clear and loud as he held court and the assembled group laughed at his irritating jokes. I still had no idea why I was here and from the looks Weasel kept giving me it seemed he wasn’t so sure either.

“You’re working for the Prophet now, Malfoy?” Potter grinned at me and I nodded stiffly.

“Indeed. I expect to secure an editorial position within the next few months.”

“Right,” Weasel snorted. “Perhaps you can write a column around the importance of blood purity.”

I clutched my forearm and took a bite of my food to stop myself from replying while Potter hissed at Weasley who looked suitably chagrined.

“It must be a very interesting job.” Granger smiled at me and topped up my wine as I nodded my agreement. Now probably wasn’t the time to mention that most of it seemed to revolve around how on earth we could get Potter to spend more time giving interviews to improve sales figures.

“You worked for Nott for a bit, didn’t you?” Longbottom flicked his gaze to Potter who frowned while I nodded.

“Yes. It wasn’t working out.”

“He’s been very successful.” Granger looked irritated. I wondered if perhaps those at the table didn’t like to see Slytherins doing well for themselves after the war. That would be just typical.

“Bloody Slytherin arse.” Weasley looked furious and I felt entirely out of place. I finished my desert and then stood, nodding to the table.

“Thank you for supper, Granger. It was delicious.” Forcing a smile I moved as quickly as I could downstairs to the pile of jackets and shoes in the hallway, trying to resist going back and giving Weasley a piece of my mind.

“Malfoy, wait!” Potter caught me as I pulled on my scarf and overcoat and made for the door.

“So that your little friends can entertain themselves at my expense and remind me how much they all hate Slytherins?”

“No. I want to talk to you.” Potter raked a hand through his hair and frowned. “I’m sorry about Ron – I’ll have a word. He’s a good bloke, just a bit insensitive sometimes – besides, Nott deserves it. Ron has his own bone to pick with him – it really wasn’t directed at you.”

“I’m sure.” I tapped my foot and glared at Potter. “Well? What is so important?”

“I could never imagine liking your father and I tolerate your mother largely because I owe her my life. You are haughty and impossible and you have terrible taste in music. I also think you should spend a lot less time looking at your hair in the mirror when someone is speaking to you.”

I turned from the mirror and replied to Potter in a tight voice. “Is that all?”

“No.” Potter reached out his hand and dropped it onto my shoulder and I found I couldn’t look away. “I just wanted to say I like you.”

“I see – aside from my parents, my musical tastes and-”

“-No,” Potter cut me off. “I like you. Just as you are.”

I wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that so I nodded and opened the door, setting off into the night, my mind filled with Potter’s words.


22 March

The revelation that Potter didn’t hate me quite as much as I had imagined had left me in something of a state of shock. I decided the only thing for it was to spend the day shopping for new suits on Saville Row, finishing off in an expensive cocktail bar in Sloane Square with Pansy and Blaise.

“Just as you are?” Pansy sounded a little put out. “Not more muscular or less of a Slytherin?”

“No,” I closed my eyes and thought about Potter’s face. “Just as I am.”

“Well…fuck” Blaise looked at Pansy who looked back at Blaise with a shrug. It seemed I had them well and truly stumped.

“And you hate Potter, darling?” Pansy looked curious and I nodded slowly although I wasn’t all that certain anymore.

“Oh yes. I hate him.”

Midnight: Potter likes me. Just as I am.


APRIL


Cigarettes smoked 10 (of my own – I might have had a couple from Pansy and Blaise but have decided they don’t count), Fancy dress outfits purchased 0 (at this rate I shall be forced to wear my Death Eaters robes)


1 April

Apparently on the first of April Muggles find it hilarious to play tricks on one another as part of an inane practice known as April Fools. This ridiculous tradition was the reason I found myself at a so-called ‘fancy dress’ party, dressed as something Muggle, while everybody else wore their robes and kept whispering and laughing behind my back.

“Evening, Malfoy.” I could hear the grin in Potter’s voice before I turned around.

“You again. I’m beginning to think you’re following me.”

“Not at all.” Potter raked his eyes over me and grinned again. “Nice outfit. Male stripper?”

“No!” I glared at Potter and frowned at my outfit. “It’s something Muggle.”

“It is indeed.” Potter laughed and leaned close, his breath hot against my ear. “You’re a fireman, I see. Although I think Muggle firemen tend to wear more than just orange braces over their chests.”

I looked at my outfit which was perhaps a little revealing. I couldn’t imagine it being terribly popular with Muggles as I was pretty sure I hadn’t seen anyone dressed like this in central London.

“Well I am pleased to see you have decided against wearing another of those hideous jumpers.” I appraised Potter in his robes, thinking he looked rather good when he took the time to dress smartly. “How is the trial?”

“It’s going fairly well.” Potter relaxed and pulled back a little, sipping his drink. “It’s going to be another week at least before we get the judgment but I think the arguments have been well received.”

“I’m sure they have, given who is making them.” I arched an eyebrow at Potter and thought about my promise to Cuffe. “Have you given any thought to giving any interviews?”

“To the press?” Potter grinned and looked closely at me. “Are you on the job at the moment, Malfoy?”

“Hardly,” I snorted. I didn’t feel now was the time to tell Potter that I had already promised Cuffe an interview on the day of the judgment being handed down. He wasn’t nearly drunk enough.

“I suppose your lot will be all over it.”

“I suppose. I personally think there are more interesting stories to be told.” I glared at Potter when he started laughing.

Potter really is the most infuriating person I have ever met.

Midnight: Male stripper indeed. Potter is a total git.

~

10 April

There were crowds of people surrounding Potter and flashbulbs going off all over the place. I fought my way through the throngs, showing anyone who cared my badge to let them know I was attending on official business. When I reached Potter he looked almost relieved and promptly pulled me towards a small door, slamming it behind us when we reached a quiet corridor.

“Bloody hell.”

“For someone who has grown up with celebrity status you don’t have much of a grasp of dealing with the press.” I snapped my camera at Potter as he scowled at me and smirked as I dropped it back down.

“I forget you’re one of them now.” Potter sighed and looked around. “I suppose I should speak to someone about this – I will only be pestered by every paper under the sun until I do.”

“You could speak to me?” I gave Potter my most beatific smile. “I might have mentioned to Cuffe that we knew one another. I am sure we could find some space in the paper.”

“You might have mentioned we knew one another?” Potter looked pointedly at the quill in my hand and growled at me. “When?”

“When I interviewed for the job.” I gulped and swallowed my nerves. Potter could be quite stern when the mood suited.

“I see.” Potter arched his eyebrow at me and then gestured towards a small room off to the left of the corridor. “Alright. But you owe me.”

“Really?” I followed Potter into the room and peered around the door to be sure I wasn’t walking into some sort of trap. “But I don’t have any questions ready.”

“I’m sure you’ll think of something.” Potter rolled his eyes and settled himself into one of the seats, loosening his tie and arching his eyebrow at me, giving me an amused grin. “Come on, Malfoy – I want to see you in action.”

I could feel my cheeks heat because the way Potter said that sounded almost filthy and I cleared my throat.

“Alright. You must be pleased with the result?”

“Delighted.” Potter smirked and hooked his ankle over his knee.

“Another victory for Harry Potter, I suppose.” I was reminded of Quidditch and scowled as Potter chuckled in an irritating manner.

“I suppose – although I don’t see this as a personal victory. This has been a landmark decision for the rights of those witches and wizards who have found themselves marginalised by society.”

There was something rather attractive about Potter when he spoke about his wolves. He was so bloody noble at times and even when he grinned at me and teased me about my questions it was clear he took the cause very seriously. I suspected mother and father could learn one or two tricks from observing Potter a little more carefully.

“What’s next?” The interview drew to a conclusion after I had more than enough notes for double the amount of space the Prophet had allocated. The sun had begun to set in the sky and the room was bathed with an orangey glow.

“Who knows?” Potter leaned back and looked out of the window with a small frown. “I’m thinking of doing some travelling.”

“Where?” I tried to keep the plaintive edge out of my voice. As much as I disliked Potter he was something of a constant in my life and I had become used to him being there around every corner, looking messy and rumpled.

“I don’t know yet. Somewhere warm.”

The image of a beach with white sand and the sounds of the waves crashing against the shore filled my senses.

“Have fun,” I sniffed.

“Have you ever fancied travelling?” Potter looked curiously at me and I shrugged.

“Not particularly.”

“Pity.” Harry held out his hand and I shook it. His grip was warm and firm. “See you around.”

“Yes. See you around.”

10pm: I can’t sleep. I have decided to count kneazles and have a stiff brandy.

Midnight: I spent the last two hours writing up the article on Potter. Travelling indeed. Doesn’t he realise his stupid friends and charity cases will miss him?

3am: At least Potter will be out of my hair. I should be thankful for that.

5am: Speaking of hair, I have just found ten hairs on my pillow. The stress is making me prematurely bald.

~

15 April

Hairs on pillow – an alarming amount. Fabulous meals prepared 0 (so far)

I have been quite unable to sleep lately. The news of Potter’s imminent departure combined with the pressure of an urgent deadline for the Prophet has left me frazzled and nauseous. To cheer myself up I have decided to cook supper for Pansy and Blaise, in celebration of my article which published today over twelve pages in the Prophet. Mother was thrilled and suggested I had singlehandedly restored faith in the Malfoy name. Even father was grudgingly impressed.

I had planned to cook something fabulous which would wow my friends into admitting that I am indeed brilliant at everything. I decided on a menu of scallops, Chateaubriand and chocolate fondant, before reviewing the cooking instructions and deciding I would be much better to make food in advance so my guests would not be deprived of my conversation and also to allow me to relax and enjoy the twelve bottles of champagne I purchased for the evening.

It was very tempting to call one of the house-elves but I knew mother and father would be likely to arrive on my doorstep, brandishing a bottle of something and inviting themselves along, so I stuck to my original plan of cooking.

It was rather tedious. I decided to pour myself a glass of champagne to help the process along when I heard someone at the Floo.

“Malfoy?”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Potter.” I realised I had flour on my face but it was too late to do anything about it. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I wanted to congratulate you.” Potter waved his copy of the Prophet and grinned. “I think I like your reporting style much better than Skeeter’s.”

“Of course you do,” I huffed. I held my breath because Potter seemed to be standing awfully close all of a sudden. I stilled as he reached out and brushed a bit of chocolate from my cheek, sucking his thumb into his mouth and humming contentedly.

“Malfoy-flavoured chocolate – very nice.”

“Yes, well…” There wasn’t much I could say to that when seeing the way Harry sucked his thumb into his mouth made me think of all sorts of filthy things.

“I’m sorry – am I interrupting?” Potter peered around me but made no move to leave, despite his words.

“I’m cooking supper – Pansy and Blaise are coming round.” Potter stayed completely stationary and I rolled my eyes. “Can you cook?”

“Not particularly.” Potter shrugged and then grinned. “But I know how to order takeaway.”

“Fine.” I glared at Potter for good measure. “You can stay.”

“Thanks.” Potter pulled off his coat and threw it over the sofa. He rolled up his shirt sleeves and whistled as he poked at the soup in the kitchen. “What the fuck is this?”

“Watercress soup.” I leaned over Potter’s shoulder and frowned. It did look a little congealed.

“What are you making for the main course?” Potter looked expectantly at me and I gestured to the pastry I had been rolling out.

“Beef Wellington.”

“Delicious.” Potter poked at the pastry and frowned a little.

“It’s going to be perfect.” I nudged Potter out of the way and began to put egg wash on the pastry to make it look better. It didn’t look quite right, I had to admit. I could also feel Potter breathing down my neck which really wasn’t helping anything.

“I’m sure it is. Can I help?” I felt Potter’s hand brush my waist and closed my eyes for a moment.

“Yes – you can switch the oven on.”

“Alright. What temperature?”

“I don’t bloody know, Potter – just switch it on for fucks sake.”

“Done.” Potter opened the cupboards and grabbed a glass. He poured himself some champagne and topped up my own. “Congratulations again.”

“Yes, well.”

I have noticed that sometimes Potter gets this look. His eyes seem to darken a bit and he looks amused. He looks at me like that a lot.

I wonder why?

11pm: The soup and Beef Wellington were a total disaster and we had to resort to Potter’s takeaway number in the end. The only thing that was well received was the chocolate which we ended up melting and using as a fondant with fruit and marshmallows.

Pansy and Blaise left over an hour ago, looking irritatingly smug about something. I’m quite sure that Pansy was flirting with Potter at one stage – they seemed to get on well enough in any event. After they left, Potter insisted on helping me clear up. The least I could do was offer him a glass of champagne for his troubles.

“Potter?”

“Hm?” Potter’s breath was warm on my face and I realised how close we were sitting.

“Why did you get divorced?”

“Oh, that.” Potter looked serious, as he sometimes did when he mentioned his case and his brow furrowed. “It wasn’t working – hadn’t been for some time. In the end, Ginny ended up with someone else. I can’t say I blame her for doing that.”

“She’s not still with him though?” I frowned, because I was fairly certain it would have been fairly well publicised if the Weaslette had found a Potter-replacement.

“No. The bloke was a prat – treated her badly. I think it was only fun for him when she was sneaking around behind my back. After Ginny and I went our separate ways it seems he lost interest too. Broke her heart.”

“I see.” I almost felt sorry for Ginevra and leaned into Potter a little more. “No more Weasleys?”

“Nope. No more.” Potter grinned at that and then I felt him shift.

His warm lips connected with mine in a slow, champagne-fizzy kiss. My body reacted to him almost immediately and I wrapped my arms around his neck, kissing him back with an eagerness that surprised me. The fact that this was Potter didn’t seem to matter when his strong arms wrapped around me and pulled me nearer. He could kiss as well as he could fly - bold and confident, taking his time and exploring my lips, my neck and my jawline as if he wanted to memorise every damn inch of my body.

“Potter…”

“I’m sorry….I should go.” Potter pulled away and ran his hand slowly through my hair. He leaned in and kissed me one more time, slow and soft, before he pulled back and smiled in that maddening way of his. “See you soon, Malfoy?”

“Yes.”

1am: Potter. Why can’t I stop thinking about Potter.

~

17 April

Cigarettes smoked 20, Hours spent thinking about Potter 32

Another day, another party.

It has been two days since my dinner party and I haven’t heard a peep out of Potter. The least I expected was some sort of owl. Perhaps he was already regretting his actions. I only agreed to come to the party on the off-chance he would be here, but for the first time in bloody ages it didn’t look as though Potter was following my every movement.

I sighed and sipped my drink, wondering whether I should just leave the party and go and see him. Potter wouldn’t kiss like that if he didn’t mean it.

Would he?

“Malfoy.” I felt an arm wrap around my waist and heard Theo’s low drawl in my ear and stiffened.

“Nott. What are you doing?”

“I hoped you might be here. I thought we could discuss our options. I’m not sure I am suited to monogamy.”

“Is that so?” I replied. I tried to move away from Nott but his grip was firm.

“Come on, let’s go somewhere and…talk. I miss you, Malfoy – those sounds you make, the way you look at me.”

“Well I don’t miss you.” I turned and realised I was close enough for Theo to kiss. As I moved my hands to his chest to push him away I heard the familiar sound of somebody clearing their throat behind me.

“I’m sorry – I was looking for someone. But it appears there has been a misunderstanding.”

“No misunderstanding.” I pushed Theo away and turned to Potter, whose face was set. He looked furious.

“Potter – what a pleasant surprise.” Theo held out his hand and Potter ignored it.

“I’m leaving.”

“Don’t,” I reached for Potter but it was too late. He moved out of the room and back through the crowds, dropping his glass on a nearby table. I turned to Theo who laughed at me and tried to pull me back into his arms.

“He’s a miserable sod.”

“You have no bloody idea about anything.” I felt my face twist with fury and clenched my hands at my sides. “Just leave me alone – you are engaged to be married. I suggest you go and find Greengrass.”

“Perhaps if I wasn’t engaged we could try again?” Theo looked hopeful and I studied him. I thought for a moment about the possibilities, admiring his handsome face and his slow smile.

“It’s too late for that.” I kept my face smooth and stepped back.

“I see.” Theo glared and I saw the flash of anger in his eyes. “Your loss, Malfoy.”

“Do you know? I really don’t believe it is.”

With my head held high I turned from Theo and left the party, walking out into the clear night air, finally able to breathe again.

~

23 April

I hadn’t seen Potter for days and mother was driving me barmy with her plans for yet another party. I informed her I spent more time than was decent attending events and drinking champagne but she didn’t seem to care.

“Is it really necessary to host another charity party, mother?”

“Yes, darling – it is quite necessary.” Mother tapped her wand against my feet and indicated I should put them on the floor rather than on their expensive ottoman. “You will be attending, I hope?”

“If I have nothing better to do,” I grumbled.

“Did you hear Astoria Greengass is marrying the Nott boy, darling? I hear he is quite the scoundrel – you would have been a much more suitable match. I gather he was involved in the breakdown of Harry’s marriage.”

“Nott?” I sat upright and stared at mother. “Theodore Nott?”

“Oh yes, darling.” Mother busied herself arranging her flowers and looked back at me. “I do believe he was having an affair with Harry’s wife for quite some time. Your father overheard her father saying he was the reason she left the country. I do think it’s good of Harry not to have said anything, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I thought about the times Potter had looked thoroughly pissed off with Theo and finally understood his cryptic comments in the Leaky. “Yes, very good.”


MAY


1 May

Parties attended this year – hundreds (it’s no wonder I can’t stick to my resolutions), Owls sent to Potter 0, Draft owls to Potter 37

“I’m glad you decided to attend, darling – it isn’t good to spend too much time in the office or cooped up in that flat of yours.” I pulled away from mother as she attempted to smooth my hair back from my face and looked around the room.

“Has Potter arrived?”

“Yes, didn’t you hear the announcement? He’s just chatting to one of your father’s friends.”

I grimaced as I saw Potter looking distinctly uncomfortable surrounded by people who had tried to kill him during the war. I moved in his direction just in time to see him slip away from the crowd which had gathered around him and walked quickly towards him before he could disappear.

“Good evening, Potter.” He looked bloody good. He had replaced his usual hideous knitted jumpers in favour of a suit with a dark green tie. His hair could have warranted a comb, but as my hairline seems to be receding in the most alarming fashion, I felt I could hardly complain.

“Malfoy,” Potter smiled but it didn’t quite meet his eyes. The amused look was gone and I found myself missing it.

“Do you have a moment?”

“Why not?” Potter shrugged and followed me into a quiet alcove, away from the rest of the party.

“I just wanted you to know that your hair is a mess, the jumpers you wear out in public should be burned and you irritate me more than anybody I have ever had the misfortune to know.”

“Right,” Harry scowled and raked his hand through his hair. “I’ll be seeing you then.”

“Wait.” I reached out for Potter and drew a deep breath. “But I like you. Just as you are.”

“Just as I am?” Potter arched an eyebrow and stopped moving. He began to smile, the same fond sort of smile I liked best. “And Theo?”

“Bloody hell, I don’t like him at all.” I shrugged and looked down. “He’s a bit of a prat. You are too, but a different sort of prat. He’s just…” I looked up and felt my cheeks heat, unable to finish the sentence.

He’s just not you.

“I see.” Potter moved closer and I had a sneaking suspicion I was being cornered.

“What are you doing, Potter?”

“I thought I should probably kiss you.” Harry’s breath was hot on my lips and I felt myself smiling despite myself. I found my lips captured in another scorching kiss and wondered what Potter would taste like when his mouth wasn’t fizzy from champagne.

“Wait a minute.” I smirked against Harry’s lips and pulled him closer. “Noble Gryffindors don’t kiss like that.”

Potter had the nerve to squeeze my arse before he pressed me against the wall and kissed me again, smiling back against my lips.

“Yes they fucking do.”

I somehow felt I wouldn’t have to wait too long to find out.


JUNE

Cigarettes 0 (have replaced smoking with sex), Hairs on pillow 15 (but most of those are Harry’s who malts like one of mother’s crups), Countries visited 3 (and counting)


5 June

It’s my birthday today. Potter has whisked me away on the trip of a lifetime. Cuffe was rather generous about letting me go after he learned who I was travelling with.

“We’ll keep the position open for you, Malfoy – any friend of Harry Potter’s is a friend of ours.”

I wasn’t sure how I felt about being kept in employment because of my relationship with Potter but I wasn’t about to hand in my notice if it kept me away from mother and father’s charitable activities during the day.

On the night of the party I had invited Potter back to my flat, where he discovered Different Shades of Dominance hidden in my top drawer. He claims he was looking for lube but I am quite convinced he was just being nosy. He proceeded to read a few extracts, promptly proclaiming it to be utter shit.

When I asked rather snippily what made him an expert on the subject matter, he proceeded to show me in glorious detail. I may find Potter infuriating but he’s almost tolerable when he’s whispering filthy things in my ear, his voice low and husky.

Midnight: Much more than tolerable, actually.


The End
 


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