𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐅𝐎𝐘

Chapter 1

I feel a bit bad for Theo, as he's the only straight man in our dorm. It must have been especially tough when Blaise and I had that thing going last year, what with all the rampant gay shagging going on around him. Mind you, I suppose it does mean that he has his pick of the Slytherin ladies. Such as they are...

So anyway, I'm back at Hogwarts for my last year, which of course meant yet another lecture from Dad over breakfast about living up to the honour of the Malfoy family name. I'm so over it. I can't believe I used to think he was cool. He's all talk with nothing to back it up. I mean, he goes on and on about being aloof and commanding the respect of others by never showing any emotion, yet he's perfectly happy to get into a hair-pulling contest with Arthur Weasley at every opportunity. Urgh, talk about failing to live up to the family name – bloody hypocrite.

It kills me how Dad always tries to be so butch when we have these little talks as well. I don't know who he thinks he's trying to fool: I've seen him using my mother's hair straighteners for crying out loud! He has to be the gayest straight man that ever lived. This morning he was giving me the don't-mess-with-me voice he uses in public and calling my masculinity into question. Bloody cheek. "Draco, you've recently adopted the unfortunate habit of giving a high-pitched shriek whenever anyone gives you good news. It would be best if you at least attempted to convey a modicum of maturity and stoicism once you return to school. And... oh, do you have to wear that shirt today? It's pink." At that point my mother mercifully decided to take the heat off me, telling Dad that pink was in this season and that it complimented my skin tone. Dad said that it simply wasn't a man's colour, and Mum told him he was being archaic. They started glaring at each other and flicking their hair about, so I was able to conduct a stealthy exit.

The journey wasn't too bad. I sat with Pansy and we spent the whole time bitching about whoever walked past our compartment. Ooh, that Hannah Abbot has got fat. Unfortunate for her, because she really wasn't much to look at anyway. Oh, and Weasley had taken it upon himself to wear an orange Chudley Cannons sweater. Does he not own a mirror? I love Pansy. She's the only person I know who really appreciates how fun it is to be materialistic.

Oh yeah, I saw him at dinner today. I think he may have gotten even taller, and he's got a tan. He's looking damn fine. Bloody hell. I've spent the summer trying to convince myself that he isn't really that attractive, that I was just imagining it and that when I saw him again I'd wonder what I'd been thinking. No such luck. Still breathtakingly gorgeous. Still maddeningly heterosexual. Le sigh...

Monday 2nd September.

Dear Diary,

Well classes have started and it was double Transfiguration first thing, which nearly bloody killed me. Why the hell didn't I do Charms instead? Charms, with dopey old Professor Flitwick who believes you when you say that you honestly didn't mean to set his beard on fire. Instead, I'm stuck in Transfiguration with McGonagall who has the uncanny ability to choose the exact moment your brain zones out to ask you a horribly difficult question.

We had double Potions last thing though, which was good. Not only did Snape give Slytherin five points because I told him his robes looked good (a lie), but it gave me a chance to ogle a certain ravishing Boy Wonder. Not that there was much opportunity for said ogling, as he and his insufferable cronies chose seats at the back of the class as per usual; but he did get into a row with Snape. God, is he sexy when he's angry! Boy Wonder, that is; Snape just starts glowering and spitting a lot. One of the disadvantages of a front row seat. I got some in the eye today.

Pansy and I decided to get our homework out of the way tonight so that we could feel all superior and lord it over everyone else later (not that we really need an excuse). However, Blaise decided that tonight would be the perfect time to join us by the fire and bore us to tears with his vapid stories about the spa holiday he took with his mother over the summer. If I have to listen to another sexual innuendo about the Latin American masseuse, I think I will scream.