Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in sic transit gloria mundi's LiveJournal:

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Sunday, February 18th, 2007
10:53 am [_furorbelli_]	134 Harry, Thank you for the postcards. They were pretty, but then you have reasonably good taste in travel destinations, albeit of the cold and wet variety. I've never been to Oslo myself, or Helsinki. York, according to Father, was too "dark and dirty" so we never went there again. The Cotswolds were the Cotswolds: not exactly Malfoy material. We did travel places, of course; Father insisted. It was what families did. Mostly he let Mother pick the destinations (and spend the money), but she knew not to press too hard or push too far. So we went places: Cairo, Istanbul, Rome, Seville - anywhere, as long as it had markets and museums. Mother loved old things; even Muggle old things, and she coped very well with the heat. Neither Father nor I did. Even now, the summers here in Australia are sweltering. I keep thinking I'll adjust, but every year I don't. I don't look good when I'm this sweaty. I just all flushed and uncomfortable, and the weather continues to be absolutely ghastly. But it's the beginning of a new semester, a new year - and no, I hadn't forgotten you. I even fed your owl when it arrived bearing mail. It's just I sit here and I melt and I don't exactly feel up to correspondence. Why did you visit all those places, anyway? Was it some sort of official tour? You're the only thing the wizarding world has for a hero, now - I suppose they drag you out of that apartment of yours and send you packing so as to inspire the unwashed masses with an appearance and the occasional wave. Good policy; half of wizardry probably shits itself at the sight of you, so it's a way of reminding everyone that dissent and rebellion are bad, because the Great Harry Potter is still around and he can take you down, as well. Of course, it also stirs up discontent - half a dozen hotheads see you and hope that they can be the one to be The Boy Who Lived - To Kill The Boy Who Lived. But you know that, don't you? You have to be strong for all the people who believe in you, and for all the people who want you dead. So you get around and wave when you have to, and sign autographs and award medals, and be a hero - because that's what heroes do after the war's been done. So you don't let them see you tremble, and you don't let them see you cry, and you don't hold anyone's hand for too long or hold anyone too close in case they become a target, and you probably don't even mention your dog just to make sure someone tries to gut the poor thing. But then the Cotswolds don't exactly seem like the destination the Ministry would use for a Grand Tour of Potter's Greatest Hits, so I can only assume you were running from the people and the crowds and the medals, the honours, the responsibilities - and most of all, yourself. We both ran from who we were, didn't we? But I still remember Mother, and I still remember Father, so I guess it's not gone completely. As for my rather stunning social life, I did not bugger anyone. I got incredibly drunk and as I said, we did no more than kiss. He was, I thought, rather more stable than his sister, and I was drunk, and sometimes people do stupid things when they are drunk. My initial reckoning of him proved to be utterly false - he was just as unstable as Helen, if not more so. Helen at least has the honesty to reveal her instability during the relationship - Michael kisses you, and then spends the next four nights over at your place saying he 'understands' and he 'wants to help me locate my true self' and that I can 'stop living a lie' and if I 'just let him in' everything will be fine. He wanted me to go to counselling. He wanted me to go to some gay group. He accused me of being in denial. I have never been completely beyond denial in my life. It was kissing; stupid, drunken kissing. He turns it into some psychological revelation and that he'll be happy to ask me out once I work out my issues. Suffice to say, I clobbered him and told him to take his bloody alternative lifestyle and move to Fitzroy. He looked hurt, you know? Torn and disappointed. He's scarred me for months and he has the gall to look hurt. These Muggles. Honestly. So please, tell me about your date - it can't have gotten any worse than what's happened to me. Draco. PS. I have nothing against gay people, as long as they make no assumptions about me and don't think I want to date them. PPS. Absolutely nothing; I am not a bigot. My prejudices are all eminently sensible. PPPS. I miss Cairo in the winter and Rome in the autumn, and Istanbul in the spring. (I don't however miss Seville at all because the weather is ghastly and I simply melt. )I shall always be, I think, "a whinging Pom", forever condemned to being teased about warm beer and cricket. I miss my Mother. PPPPS. I miss my Mother.
Tuesday, February 6th, 2007
12:43 pm [decerto]	133 Draco, You should have got a packet of postcards earlier today. Hedwig had some trouble locating you once you moved house, apparently, and I was moving around rather a lot. I was beginning to wonder if you'd simply given up, as unlikely as it seemed, but then I came home to a stack of returned post and sent it all over again. Which means some of it is months old, but I think there's nothing to be done about that. I'm still curious to hear what happened, but I acknowledge that four months after the fact it may no longer be entirely relevant. On the other hand, that may put enough distance between you and the original event that you can actually talk about it without throwing a tantrum, but who knows? Hope springs eternal. Perhaps if you manage it, I'll even tell you about how I went on a date. It was a disaster, but that just means you ought to enjoy it that much more. Harry Potter
12:25 pm [decerto]	132. Postcard 1: The Cotswolds. 20 Oct 06 D- What are you talking about being a potplant? And Muggles aren't lemmings, they don't throw themselves off cliffs, or whatever it is lemmings do. Will catch you up properly later. Harry Postcard 2: Jorvik Viking Museum, York. 30 Oct 06 D-, Sorry about the last, I didn't say much. Still have your letter. It is of course another anniversary, and I will probably spend it exactly as you anticipate, you may as well make fun all you like. What's this about your ex-girlfriend coming by at 2 am? DID you bu--do what she asked? (Postcards, right.) It's not a savage insinuation, it's curiosity. H.P. Postcard 3: Oslo. 6 Dec 06 D-- Hope you're well and everything is all right. Woke up with sweets in my shoes this morning. Have a happy Christmas. Harry Postcard 4: Helsinki. 24 Jan 07 You're still alive down there, aren't you? Shouldn't it be summer? H.
Thursday, October 12th, 2006
4:50 pm [_furorbelli_]	131 Potter, No, let's start with Harry. I can call you that now, see if I can't, and see if you can stop me. Besides, it's a perk, as ignominous as a perk can be, and never let it be said that my Father didn't teach me to use every perk I ever received. It makes us sound so much cozier, don't you think? The sort of chums who'd sip eggnog at Christmas, all bundled up. I can't quite picture myself spending time with Weasley and Granger, but at least I'd be close enough to kick them. It's been a while, hasn't it? I'm upset you never tried to contact me. Still, I'm certain you exchanged lots of intelligent repartee with the dog - it must have been a change to discuss things with someone on your own level. At any rate, Harry it is, and Harry-it-was, and Harry-it-shall-be, the weather here is beastly, now I finally have some time to complain about it. The heat hits you like a wall, and the wind drains what precious little moisture you can sweat out. Everything's dusty, everything's dry: even the colours seem leeched, all dusky and faded except for the brilliant blue of the sky. I had thought I'd get used to it, perhaps, but it seems that I am perpetually a foreigner, an outcast even here. Still, there's a kind of beauty in it; a harsher beauty than England, but a beauty none the less. I can almost respect them for the sheer guts and determination it takes to survive in a place like this: and more, to make it your home. There's something quite noble about Muggles I think at times: they are so helpless, and so weak, and so stupid, but they just keep on trying. Like lemmings, really. I mean, this heat is getting worse from year to year. 'Global warming' they call it, as if 'we're being a bunch of shortsighted fuckwits' needs a name, and forget they share this planet with all sorts of other creatures (let alone us.) Some people have called me selfish (and usually lived to regret it), but this lot only ever think about themselves. They have their own type of magic, this science, and they use it without thought, like a first year trying a spell with no regard for the consequences. And thanks to that sheer idiocy, I end up all ruddy and wilting like some poor pot plant. I was never meant to be a potplant. A few years ago I probably wouldn't have been able to appreciate this, but there you go: little Draco Malfoy all grown up and away from home. Mother would be proud of me, though, for that. And for being an absolutely brilliant law student - she always wanted me to join the Wizengamot, so it's roughly equivalent. Don't you go telling me how smart Granger is and how she could have beaten me. I would have beaten Granger soundly and made her damn well cry like the girl she is: law deals fundamentally with the use and abuse of power and people, and you lot never understood both. You did, however, understand winning, so credit where credit is due. A lot has happened since I last wrote; sorry if I seem so frenetic. I've had to move house, and university has kept me busy, to say nothing of social entanglements. (And I do mean 'entanglements.') You try having your ex-girlfriend coming around to your flat at 2am in the morning and yelling herself hoarse while she accuses you of half a dozen things in full earshot of the neighbours. She even suggested I buggered her brother! The looks I was getting from the people next door in number 42, you have no idea. I simply had to move to escape the gossip. Then Helen managed to track me down again and wanted her things back. So I opened up the window and chucked them on her head. Sadly, this is apparently called 'assault'; fortunately, the constabulary here is as amenable to bribery as any Auror back home - and you wonder how the Malfoys always got away with it, eh, Potter? The Malfoys always get away with it. You should remember that. Draco. PS. Please write me back at the new address. I think Helen's been trying to read my mail. PPS. I did not bugger her brother. We were both drunk; there was some kissing, at most. PPPS. He also is insane, like his sister. I shall detail why in my next letter, if you ask politely and don't make savage insinuations like last time. PPPPS. Hope you're not dead. The dog needs company, if nothing else.
Sunday, July 30th, 2006
12:38 pm [decerto]	130. Draco, What are you on about? I never said you wasted paper, I said you were tearing your letters up and you're the one who made a great fuss from there. I hardly see as I have anything to apologise for over it. Right now I'm having enough trouble imagining you guzzling beer with a lot of environmentalists--which no, of course it's not bad, I just remember you doing enough damage to the surrounding environs that it's a bit of a changeup for you to be suddenly considering it. As you said, you're changing. This does not make me sorry. If you don't want to tell me what you've done, you don't have to. I expect all your new university friends who understand you so much better will be more than happy to help you with whatever it was instead. What are you still writing me for, then? Harry
Saturday, July 8th, 2006
7:29 pm [_furorbelli_]	129. You know, I've thought about it, and thought about it, and thought about it, and I don't think I will. Tell you, I mean. Shan't at all, actually. At least not until you apologise for the crack about me tearing letters and wasting paper. I am not some kind of indulgently thoughtless pampered brat who thinks anything should just appear out of thin air. I've lived my life harder than you know, and probably better than you realise, and I'm also a fully paid up member of the university's green party, but no, you probably never thought to even consider that. Admittedly, there was free beer at the stand they had at orientation day, so that might have something to do with, and God knows I needed it after meeting Helen - for a girl so decidedly odd, it's curious she has such a stable family. I mean, you'd have simply no notion her brother was related to such a malcontent. Anyway. Back to me. Apologise, Potter. I'm not the man you wanted me to be; I never was. Draco.
Monday, July 3rd, 2006
9:32 pm [decerto]	128. Draco, Death is an unfortunately permanent condition, much more than a hangover. What did you do? Harry
5:14 pm [_furorbelli_]	127. Harry, I beg and beseech you to put all previous animosity aside, and please tell someone where I am, so they can kill and extinguish me like the rampant stupidity that I have proved to be. I did something very stupid while I was drunk. Draco. PS. It's my paper and I can do whatever the hell I want with it. Besides, tearing one piece into several pieces saves trees. You have something against trees, do you? PPS. I think I'm going to be sick. Again. Still. One of them.
Friday, June 30th, 2006
1:57 pm [decerto]	126. Draco, I'm sorry about the breakup with Helen. If it's any consolation, you didn't actually appear to like her very much. And I am sure your friends mean well. This is of course not a great help, since well-meaning people are among the most frustrating you will ever have to deal with. Still, I can't imagine but that they're right about some of it--do you trust anyone? Other than me, that is, which is probably a kind of disorder all by itself. And you do have very distinct issues with your father, they're just not what your circle of friends likely expects. (Nor should you probably tell them.) I am glad you cannot send me Howlers, as I think one would upset my dog. I have a stack of letters here and I rather thought I had already replied. Apparently that's not the case, or if it was, the letter got lost somewhere (actually, that's a rather disturbing prospect, isn't it? Don't worry, I'll find out if something like that did happen, and get it back.) To answer some older questions, then--the Order wasn't all hugs and puppies. Well, a very few puppies, but hugs between us were sad desperate things, where you tried to remind yourself that you were still alive underneath the dirt and dried blood. I hardly remember any of the specifics, sometimes, because the battle had become so all-consuming that there was nothing left of me that did not contain it. The parts I've forgotten I still dream about, so I know they're there. The story of Africa, I think, will have to wait for another time. I hope your courses are going well, and that when you've finished getting drunk, the aftereffects are not too miserable. One last thing. Stop tearing up your letters before I get to read them. Yours, Harry
Saturday, July 1st, 2006
12:37 am [_furorbelli_]	125. [On a Post-It note.] I'm going to get very, very drunk now.
12:26 am [_furorbelli_]	124. [another slip of paper torn from the last one] GOD, POTTER, THAT DOG OF YOURS CAN'T BE SPENDING ALL IT'S TIME IN THE BACKYARD. I AM GOING THROUGH A CRISIS AND YOU ARE ABSOLUTELY NO HELP AT ALL. IF I REMEMBERED HOW TO SEND A HOWLER YOU WOULD SO BE GETTING ONE. Instead I will write in capitals at you. I suppose that's how Muggles express literary rage. See what I've been reduced to?
Friday, June 30th, 2006
11:55 pm [_furorbelli_]	123. [scrawled on another piece of paper, the upper tear of which happens to match up with the bottom jagged edge of the last letter.] And for the record, my father was not 'distant'. He was sanctimonious and insufferable, and nothing I ever did was any good, but most importantly, he was far too visible to be 'distant'. And my mother was not overbearing. She was beautiful and witty and she made my father look good, which should have been impossible, and I miss her very much.
11:44 pm [_furorbelli_]	122. [scrawled hurriedly on a scrap of paper] And the worse thing is she's told all our mutual friends, and they've all come to me and told me how they understand that it must be hard for me to adjust because I clearly come from a priviliged culture that's not used to expressing emotions, so they're all here for me if I need them, or something. They seem to think that just because my family was hideously wealthy and English that I have to be some sort of emotional cripple. I left that particular cliche to Finch-Fletchley. And then some of them even ask me about my parents, and if I had a distant father or overbearing mother and difficulty relating to women. I think I should return to Britain. I might be imprisoned for the rest of my life, but at least my guards wouldn't make me suffer through this special hell.
9:34 pm [_furorbelli_]	121. Potter. Sorry it's been a while; you must have been so busy not replying to me. I notice the world's still here, so possibly you had something to do with it. Don't expect congratulations: I would have saved the world too, you know. It is my world as much as it is yours. At any rate, I saw Helen on the Thursday, June the First. I tried very delicately to break up with her, while maintaining a certain, you know, firm gravitas. She told me I couldn't. She told me I was making a mistake, and acting out, and although we clearly needed some time to think, we weren't breaking up. The following day she rang me up and told me she'd thought and come to recognise I was severely unable to trust another person or let them inside, whatever that means, and she hated to do it, but she couldn't keep doing this to herself and so she wished me well and broke up with me, before she hung up. Did I accidently get cursed by some God and no-one told me about it? What is it with women? Draco.
Wednesday, May 31st, 2006
12:46 pm [_furorbelli_]	120. Harry. I am not, mind, asking you for advice, support, consolation or succour. I am simply giving you an update; I am not 'at sea', lost, bewildered, or clutching at straws. Nor am I avoidant or unable to emotionally commit. (I say all these things from the brunch I just had with Helen, a date that started early and yet couldn't be over quickly enough.) If I asked you for advice, you'd probably tell me to buy a cat and name it Theodore or something. I honestly think I'm going to have to break up with her. I won't be talked to like that. Draco. PS. What does she mean, emotionally unavailible or unable to take advice from women?
9:41 am [_furorbelli_]	119. Harry, I rather wish I could communicate to Helen via letter only. She seems rather annoyed that I haven't taken time off to relax with her. I thought we were fine, but apparently this is 'symptomatic of my tendency to avoid or postpone important emotional landmarks in our relationship.' I don't even understand what that means. Pansy was never like this. Draco. PS. Is there something about women that I'm missing?
Sunday, May 28th, 2006
4:32 pm [_furorbelli_]	118. Harry, I am sorry Africa didn't work out. But it's good to see you can take my advice. Frantically attempting to study, Draco.
Saturday, May 27th, 2006
7:28 pm [_furorbelli_]	117. Harry, You can reply now, you know. I don't spend all my time mooning over a girl. However, don't write back just now because I have papers due. (Helen's barred from distracting me as well, so don't take it personally. If you take anything personally these days.) Draco.
Wednesday, May 24th, 2006
12:17 pm [_furorbelli_]	116. Harry, At some point I'll let you reply, but this is not that time. Helen's been very busy, and as a result, I'm looking at all this time I have now and wondering what I used to do with it. I still don't exactly go out much. Muggles might be people, but God, people or cockroaches, I'm quite within my rights to find most of them perfectly beastly. I almost prefer the teenagers I used to work with; at least then they wore their hearts on their sleeves. The politics of the university debating and Gilbert and Sullivan society is a topic I'd rather not go into, except to say it makes Death Eater meetings look like a picnic. Which makes me wonder now in retrospect how you lot got on. The Order, I mean. The heroes. I always assumed it was hugs and puppies all the way; that the good guys simply cannot bicker, argue, debate, discuss or disagree. Logically, I know you did - I remember you and Weasley the younger male having a sulk in fourth year - but it all seems so surreal, the idea of you talking back to someone you didn't actually think wasn't worth your respect (myself and Snape, as I seem to recall.) And even after Dumbledore was killed, you somehow managed to be coherent and win. You managed to win. You managed to win; I'm sure you'll cope with being dragged out to the pub and walking your dog and listening to Hermione harass you. For the record, my girlfriend's nothing like Hermione. Are you suggesting I'd fancy Granger? Because I do not, and never would, and never will. She's never stamped or stormed off like Granger does; she's got a certain temper, definitely, a certain unwillingness to yield, and I like that. She's willing to fight me and brook no quarter and push me into being something better, or bolder. I like that. It sounds like you need someone who might actually make you react. Draco. PS. I'm not saying you should try to date Granger.
Monday, May 22nd, 2006
12:14 pm [_furorbelli_]	115. Harry, I was making fun of you. That was a joke. Ha ha, and all that. You remember those, or are you too busy taking care of the Cedric you could rescue? Draco. PS. I am better. I'm rather miffed you can't be better too. If I'd saved the world, I'd expect some sort of reward, really. Maybe a statue. I'd demand the resources of the wizarding world put at my disposal to heal my blood leg. Least you can do, considering all you did. I'd like a statue.