confundus drarry ✘

xviii

Dear me,

Today, dreadfully, was Valentine's Day.

Last year was fine. A couple of older students were mushy and sappy, and some of the younger years were doing all that "love" stuff, but it wasn't pressed on us.

Not like, this year.

Because of stupid Lockhart, and his stupid Great Hall decorations, and stupid little, not-so-merry dwarves.

The girls were so excited and giggly when the dwarves would barge into the classrooms, but I just wanted to vomit all over myself.

I was going to my next class when I ran into the funniest thing—Potter had received a valentine. It was a singing one, too. Hilarious words that must've been written by a first year. And without that Creevey kid running around, I figured out who it was, easily: the Weaslette!

When I was about to humiliate her, I saw a book that fell from Potter's bag. A strange journal type, and I almost panicked: it was similar to the one I'm writing in right now. But I was rest assured when I saw that it was made from some assumably Muggle store in London. It had had to be Potter's!

But get this—I was about to read it, when Potter had used the same disarming charm Severus used on Lockhart! I was furious! So, instead of very well verbally abusing Potter, I successfully insulted the Weaslette, which is a victory in itself.

Happy Valentine's, though.

Honorably,
Draco Malfoy