Dear Diary, I Mean, Journal

Note: Hey, I know, I know, why the heck am I starting a new story? Well, I am extremely bored and uninterested in my math homework, so I decided to write a short oneshot about Draco. I'm not quite sure how this will turn out, but I don't think I will continue this story; it'll stay as a oneshot unless you happen to convince me otherwise.

I must warn you: this story is a bit… strange. It also isn't the most well thought-out story; I sort of made it up as I went along. I usually don't write fanfiction in the first person, so this is a bit new to me and we shall see how it goes.

In this story, Draco is a bit out of character, I suppose, but it all depends on how you look at it.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and all things related to him… although I would very much like to own a very hot Draco Malfoy… heheh.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It was not funny. Stop laughing immediately.

I will not, under any circumstances, tell you what happened.

Never.

You cannot convince me.

Go ahead, strap me to a flagpole and stick me in the desert. I will not talk.

In fact, you can even feel free to magically bind me to old Professor Snape, whose recent hair loss has further devastated his looks, but I will never talk. Ever.

Nope.

The fact is: I will not tell you.

Thank God there were no witnesses. Well, except for Granger. But of course she witnessed it; she was a part of it.

GASP.

You did not just read that.

Scratch that out.

God, I hate quills and ink. Muggles are so smart to use pencils.

Speaking of hate, I absolutely hate Granger. I HATE her. Do not even begin to think that I like her, because I DO NOT. I repeat: I don't like Granger.

Clear?

Oh God, I am talking to a diary. Err, I mean, a journal. Diaries are for sissies, wussies, and pussies.

And why the hell do I keep referring to God?

Ah, forget it.

But anyway, on with the story…

…which I am not telling you.

Ever.

In a million years.

In fact, just to prove my point, I will even erase my own memory so that I will forget what just happened.

Okay, bad idea. That could result in mental damage. And besides, I think I'll be keeping this memory; I rather enjoyed it.

I DID NOT JUST WRITE THAT.

Well, now you have three bits of information. The first: it involves Granger. The second: I liked it. The third: I cannot perform a memory charm.

There.

That's all you need to know.

Okay, so there was more. But what happened was a complete and total accident. I swear. Well, mostly an accident.

Okay, I'll admit it: it was totally premeditated, of course. (note use of sarcasm)

So anyhow, a while (I'll let you judge how long) ago, I was walking to-

(record needle scratches)

I almost wrote down what happened.

My diary is invading my mind and telling me to write things down.

Sigh.

I mean, my journal. Draco Malfoy does not own a diary.

Alright, let's continue.

As I was saying…

I was walking to lunch with a certain someone who kept on clinging to my left arm and resting her head upon my shoulder. Well, you can pretty much guess who it is.

If you say Crabbe, I will personally torture you.

And I will find a way to torture an inanimate object.

Of course it was not Crabbe; it was Parkinson.

That bitch.

...I hope Mum never reads this.

Now, as Parkinson was performing her daily routine (cling to Draco, bat eyelashes at Draco, wrap arms around Draco, get punched by Draco)...

And yes, I would hit a girl. I've already done so.

AH! TOO MUCH INFORMATION!

Sigh.

Well, now that it's out, I might as well continue, so that you don't think I'm some sort of women abuser.

Wait, diaries (I mean, journals, dang it) can't think.

Oh, well.

So, as Pansy was accompanying me to lunch, a certain brunette Gryffindor passed by.

A Gryffindor who has eleven O-W-Ls…

…and a nice A-S-S.

Oops.

You didn't read that.

But anyway, as this lovely, I mean, ugly, Gryffindor passed by, I was performing the very last part of Parkinson's daily routine: get punched by Draco. As I casually, tried to shove her off me (which isn't easy; that woman is a beast), my hand slipped and happened to whack a certain Granger in the face.

And bloodied her nose.

Told you it was an accident. Too bad Granger didn't think so.

"MALFOY, I'M GONNA KILL YOU!"

Not exactly the friendliest phrase in the world.

Besides, it was too early in the day to be killing people.

Granger's hand cupped her nose. I saw blood. Pansy nearly fainted. Thankfully, she didn't, or else she would have been left on the floor of the corridor and abandoned. Not that I'm cruel or anything, but she isn't exactly the lightest person in the world to be carrying to the Hospital Wing. She did, however, let go of my arm and run after some guy that walked by. I saw red hair. God, I hope it's not Weasley.

So, I stood there, unsure of what to say.

Perhaps words would have been a smarter choice right then.

The next thing that came out of my mouth was "Ow." Well, actually, it was more like "OWWWW!".

Damn, that Granger kicks hard.

She smirks and then winces because of her nose. I suppose it's hard to smirk with a bloody and possibly broken nose.

She runs to the Hospital Wing and I run after her… to get the bruise on my leg (I felt one coming along) healed… not because I care about Granger.

Ten minutes later, Pomfrey is lecturing us about violence in schools. Ah, what torture. After she fixed us up, we were free to go.

The moment we leave the Hospital Wing, Granger pins me to a wall.

"Why did you hit me?" she snarls.

I sneer. "Your nose was too big for your face. I fixed it for you."

"Oh, yeah? Well your ego is as big as Mars." Typical Granger, insulting my ego, which is not big, mind you.

"Yo momma is as big as Mars." That was lame, I know. But I save the good ones for last.

"Yo momma is so fat she-"

And there we were. Me and Granger. Exchanging "Yo Momma" jokes. Some of which were pretty good by the way. "Yo Momma" jokes are an effective way to learn about creating similes, metaphors, and analogies; it's so true.

We would have gone on and on, until a portrait stopped us.

"Kids, take it outside!" Portraits are so mean these days.

And that's exactly what we did. We went out of the castle and onto the grounds.

"One of these days, I am going to kill you," said Granger in a menacing (indeed it was!) tone.

"One of these days, I am going to screw you."

No, I did not mean that. Don't even think about it.

Granger pauses. "Oh, really?"

I wasn't sure I liked where this was going.

"Really." I look her in the eye and sneer.

"Just so you know, I'm not a guy," Granger says.

I gape. Oh, no she didn't!

I was about to slap her, but she had her wand out. Damn it.

"Careful, Malfoy, I could turn you into the ferret that you are."

"Some people find ferrets rather adorable."

I take a step toward her and she backs away.

More steps, more backing away.

The dialogue, you don't need to know. Just some basic exchange of insults, a few swear words, nothing apart from the usual. Besides, I don't remember exactly what we said; I don't have the most brilliant memory in the world.

But, now we are reaching the important part.

Soon, I realized that we were near a certain unpleasant tree: the Whomping Willow.

Hermione takes no notice but continues to insult me.

"Granger… Behind you!"

Suddenly, without warning, the tree lashes out and smacks Hermione in the back. She scrambles up and away from the tree.

"Whew, that was close. I never want to get too close to the-AHHH!"

Before, we could back away, leaves came flying at us from all directions.

And branches, too.

I had no choice.

It was the right thing to do.

Blackmail me with it; I dare you.

I grabbed her shoulders and held her against my body… to protect her from the onslaught of branches.

Granger didn't resist.

It was not a comfortable feeling to have a whole bunch of branches flying at you from an angry tree that had nothing better to do than piss off students.

I swear I had not done anything to offend the tree. I like trees! I like them! Why the hell did the Whomping Willow suddenly develop hatred for me and Hermione?

Suddenly, I heard this creaking noise and lifted my head, which I, er, had buried within Hermione's hair… in order to stop the branches from hurting my face.

WAIT. We need to pause for a moment.

I know that the evidence is mounting against me, but I DO NOT like Granger!

Okay?

Good.

And if you say otherwise…

I will shoot you.

Now, let's continue.

So, I heard this creaking noise, lifted my head and saw a horrific sight: the Whomping Willow was about to squash us.

Thus, I did the heroic thing.

I got out of the way and left Hermione there to get hit.

No, I'm totally kidding.

I wouldn't do that. Us Slytherins aren't that cruel. Unless you count the time when Blaise lit Mrs. Norris on fire. But that was an accident; he was trying to burn down the portrait of Sir-what's-his-face.

Actually, I shoved Hermione aside and braced myself for pain.

Talk about courage.

You may take a moment and applaud my selflessness; I'll wait.

Sigh.

Now, where were we again? God, I suck at telling stories.

So anyway, I braced my self for pain… (insert dramatic music here)

It came.

You can imagine a large tree about to fall down on me in slow motion. Now, add a few moves from the Matrix and that's pretty much what it looked like.

I attempted to dodge the branches, but they all came at me at once, and no Matrix moves could save me.

Hermione must have been looking on in horror. Or perhaps eating popcorn. That's what I would have done. Hey, good entertainment is hard to find these days!

But, instead of slamming into me, the branches of the Whomping Willow hit my head and grabbed (yes, branches can grab stuff)… my hair.

NO.

Not the hair.

Anything but the hair.

Well, anything except my… err…

Let's continue.

It hurt like the time I tried to see if I could jump onto my desk while McGonagall wasn't looking. I didn't make it, and ended up crashing into Crabbe. I got detention for two weeks. The old hag. She's on my Hate List. Along with you, oh dear diary… I mean, journal.

So, basically what happened was I got pulled upward by my hair (feel free to feel sorry for me). Hermione, being the valiant Gryffindor, tried to pull me down by my feet. That only caused more pain.

And, what's worse, my pants… err… began to slip.

You can only imagine what came next.

Ahem.

Let's fast forward, shall we?

Ahh! I can hear you in my head telling me to describe what happened!

Sigh.

Oh, alright, fine. Just stop haunting me. I like to keep my head to myself.

So, basically, my pants fell down…

Well, no, Hermione sort of helped pull them down when she tried to "save" me.

Hermione fell, still clutching my pants, while the Whomping Willow was still clutching my hair.

But the worst part is, I was wearing boxers with ferrets on them. (I swear I did not buy them; they were a gift from Mum!)

I'm sure Granger has had a good laugh about it. Half the school knows by now, mind you.

But finally, Hermione did this clever thing.

Pulling out her wand, she severed the branches from the Whomping Willow. Smart girl.

I fell to the ground but didn't get my hair ripped out the Whomping Willow, thank goodness. My hair is the basis of my good looks; I can't afford to lose it.

Now, that only left the small matter of me having branches in my hair.

I could have kissed Granger right then.

I know, I know, you are most likely making another tally mark in the "Draco Likes Granger" column. Fine then. See if I care.

Okay, I totally care.

I DON'T LIKE HER.

Hmph.

I "HMPH" YOU, OH DIARY!

I mean, journal.

So Granger and I managed to recover from the attack of the Whomping Willow.

Then there was dialogue, blah-blah-blah, ya-di-ya-di-ya… Let's not get into that.

Yes, I am cutting out parts of my own story.

Deal with it.

I'm getting hand cramps. Damn quills.

So then we had this, um, moment, you know. We looked into each others eyes and all that crap.

Perfect moment for making out, I know, right?

But of course, we didn't.

We waited until we got out of range of the Whomping Willow.

Snicker, snicker.

What?

What you looking at me for?

She's a good kisser.

No, we did not spontaneously discover some sort of newfound passion for each other; I don't write cheesy love stories!

And this is NOT a cheesy love story!

It isn't!

I swear!

There is no cheese involved! (Except for last night's dinner, but that is a completely different story.)

It may be a chocolaty love story, but never a cheesy one.

Ever.

So, we kissed. I admit it. But, there are no witnesses, and if you asked me about it, I'd deny the whole thing.

I mean, it wasn't like one minute we hated each other, and the next we're suddenly in love.

It happened over the course of, oh, say twenty minutes?

But somehow, it occurred to me that Granger was rather pretty and that I somehow liked her.

The end.

Fine, I'm kidding.

So basically, after we were safe from the Whomping Willow, we walked back to the castle, talking and perhaps thinking thoughts about each other. I shall not delve into detail because even some very personal aspects of my life shall not be revealed, even to my diary.

I mean, my journal.

Okay, yes, I am admitting it: I like her. Like I said, deal with it, punk.

Oh my God, I just called my diary, I mean, journal, a punk.

I'm going insane.

But back to the story…

So, what happened afterward is private. And I do mean private. However, I will tell you that it eventually involved dates at Hogsmeade, kissing, and, of course, naughty thoughts. Oh, and there was also a hotel bedroom with some lovely pink sheets. Sigh. What a shame.

But you know, I won't be writing down any of that. After all, that information is private.

It's for my eyes only. Not yours.

…Okay, I admit it.

Maybe it was a cheesy love story.

So sue me.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX