We’ll, you’re a book and I’m s’posed to rite in you, but not sure what to rite. Oh, you’ve got a lock, so I could rite anyfink cos no one’ll see.
OH!! Draco won’t be able to read it. I can say whatever I want, and he won’t know.
That’s good. It would be a bad fing if he knew cos no one should know, and if he finds out then he won’t let me near him, and I’d hate that. If I couldn’t see him every day I fink I’d go mad. It was bad enough when he was snogging that Pansy. I hated the Yool Ball. It was horrible having to dress up, sit wiv Crabbe and watch Draco wiv her. They danced quite a bit that night, and I saw them snogging. Pansy was wearing this dress that made her look like a pink pudding – a moose or blamonj or whatever it’s called. And after they’d danced, she dragged him outside. I wanted to follow, but Crabbe said I wasn’t allowed, so I sat back down and fort about all the things she was doing to him, and how she was allowed to touch his hair, and all that, and I’m not allowed to cos we’re both boys.
Oh, Diary, I don’t know what to do. Like Pansy, she gets everyfing. Draco’s even paying some Ravenclaw creep to rite poems for him to send to her. And it works. Pansy’s always down here now in our room. Draco tells us to go out when she’s here.
It’s not fair.
I’ve been finking. What if I rote some poetry? Can’t be that hard.
is a really great boy.
Let me be your toy,
O Draco Malfoy.
I put my poem in Draco’s potions book, but when he saw it, he just screwed it up and said something about Potter being an idiot. Like, why would Potter be riting him poetry? Why would Draco fink he’d do that. He hates Potter and Potter hates him.
Do you fink, Diary, that my poetry was that bad?
I hope Draco like this one.
I always stop and stare
at your golden hair.
You’re like my teddy bear
I really wish you’d care.
Draco screwed up the poem. I’d put it in his bag after Care of Magical Creatures, and he found it when we was packing up. He looked at everyone, scowled at Potter, and then stomped back to the dungeons. For the rest of the day, Draco was in a really bad mood. I wanted to make it all better and asked if he wanted anyfing but he just told me to go away. He said something ruder actually, but I’m not sure I can spell it.
I fink I’ll stop trying to rite poetry. It’s making my hand hurt and my brain ache. I might get that Ravenclaw to rite me somefing. But what if he tells people?
I know, I’ll go to the library and nick a book.
I found a book and tore out a poem. Don’t fink anyone will notice. No one looks at these Muggle books. I don’t understand it, but I copied out two lines and I’m going to stick them in a card and get an owl to deliver it on Valentine’s Day.
I fink Draco will like the lines I rote, cos he likes the dark, and he likes sneaking about in shadows. I know cos I've seen him.
I stuck the lines in a card and was really careful not to stick them upside down. Then I went to the Owlery, grabbed an owl and told it to go to Draco. It didn’t want to and pecked my finger, but I freatened it, so it did.
Draco got my card at breakfast. He opened it, looked at the owl and then ran across the Hall to where Potter was sitting and started reading out the lines I'd copied.
"I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul."***
Then, in front of everyone, he snogged him.
And they left the Hall togevver.
The owl pecked my hand again. Bloody fing. I should never have used a white owl. I knew they was unlucky.