Two boys in a snake den

Strange and scaley behaviour

Draco lay draped across his favourite velvet chaise longue, contemplating how rich his family was as well as the strange behaviour his parents had been exhibiting as of late.

But mostly he was thinking about how rich he was.

Alongside this comforting knowledge was the creeping sensation that he should be paying more attention. The summer had started off fairly normal: his mother had taken to her gardening and crochet while his father attended quidditch matches, ministry meetings and his annual strip poker nights. All seemed well enough.

And yet during the moments his back was almost turned, strange things occurred. Like his mother, for example, telling Dobby that she wanted his thick, buttery syrup drizzled all over her pancakes. This would have been fairly normal, except for the fact that they hadn't been eating pancakes at the time. And it wasn't even breakfast hours. 

Another of these absurd happenings was his fathers late night mutterings. Draco could scarcely make out any words, but among the few he did there were standouts such as: "you aren't the only thick snake around here.." and "plunge me with your scaley wand!" 

At the time Draco had merely assumed his mother and father were engaging in some late night frolicking, yet when he left his room to investigate the scene the only person, or creature, he came across was Nagini, slithering out of his father's bedroom wearing a satisfied smirk. 

He simply couldn't decipher the clues in front of him, so took to his diary to express his confusion:

'Dear diary,

apologies, it's been a while but I have been busy training to become an actual death-eater, and you are an inanimate object anyway, so no hard feelings. The summer has lacked excitement generally, mother and I took to the streets of Paris for a quick shopping trip and I purchased some brand new silk pyjamas in my favourite shade of green, so there's a plus. But besides that, I'm afraid the only topic of interest is my mother and father's strange behaviours.

You see, diary, my mother has been spending an awful lot of time down in the kitchens. Which is perplexing considering she can't actually cook. (She once made me tiramisu the colour of dehydrated piss. Tiramisu? More like Tirimayouneedcookinglessonsbitch, am I right?) But that's beside the point. 

Alongside her shady activities, my father has been sauntering about this house as though wearing a thong. (And by that I mean he's been hobbling, stressed and red in the face. Thank Merlin I broke my thong in two years ago, otherwise I'm sure the dark lord wouldn't appreciate me fishing it out of my asscrack during a death-eater conference!) Something is definitely going on, and instinct tells me that there's one unsavoury person, or creature, involved....

Lord Voldemort!

Apologies for the dramatics, but this summer has truly been a bore and I needed my fill.

Until anew, yours truly, Draco.'