banners, by whoyouinvent
Title: banners
Author: whoyouinvent
Rating: G-PG
Disclaimer: not mine, just borrowed without asking
Word Count: 393
A/N: this could be considered a prequel to my previous flashfic, spark, although you certainly don't have to read them together. comments are always appreciated! also, not betaed, so tense issues and bad punctuation are all my fault - point them out if you see them.
Granger took to calling them warriors, eventually. She blamed her sense of history, but Draco couldn't really argue with her. He knew that most of the cannon fodder (to be honest) was scared shitless about facing actual combat; giving them a proud, strong name could hardly hurt. So they were warriors, knights under a banner fighting for freedom and justice. Draco fought because he couldn't let a maniac half-blood kill off the pureblood families like the Weasleys and Longbottoms just because they didn't agree with him. Because since his father lost his sanity to Azkaban and his mother her life to her own hand, Draco was the last of a line that stretched beyond memory. He fought to protect the remnants of that line, and because the Dark Lord would as soon kill him as anything else. These are the reasons he fought, these are well-known and documented.
There is more, he considered, watching the battle rage on, far below him. He caught sight of a golden banner, a black lightening bolt harsh against its sheen, amongst the other banners in battle. Although he thought the blatant show of location was foolish, he recognised the need for some to rally behind a leader, that a show of strength was often as effective as the presence of it. He watched the golden banner and knew his real reason for fighting, that without Potter, life wouldn't be worth living - not just the consequences of his failure, but the lack of Potter himself. The tormenting and bickering and personal slurs had continued over the past months of strategy, but they had shifted for Draco. They had become, and he hated to admit this, more a pulling of pigtails and desire for attention than based in real menace. He had yet to do anything about this shift of emotion, hesitant to create any distractions from the battle preparations. But maybe afterward...
The heat of nearby curses brought Draco back to himself and he hoisted his own banner in his left hand, securing it in the holster next to his leg. The silk snapped in the wind, a platinum dragon on a deep green background. Slytherin colours, through and through, despite the medley of houses at his side. Flanked by Charlie Weasley and his comrades, he let out a cry and guided his Norwegian Ridgeback down into battle.
Author: whoyouinvent
Rating: G-PG
Disclaimer: not mine, just borrowed without asking
Word Count: 393
A/N: this could be considered a prequel to my previous flashfic, spark, although you certainly don't have to read them together. comments are always appreciated! also, not betaed, so tense issues and bad punctuation are all my fault - point them out if you see them.
Granger took to calling them warriors, eventually. She blamed her sense of history, but Draco couldn't really argue with her. He knew that most of the cannon fodder (to be honest) was scared shitless about facing actual combat; giving them a proud, strong name could hardly hurt. So they were warriors, knights under a banner fighting for freedom and justice. Draco fought because he couldn't let a maniac half-blood kill off the pureblood families like the Weasleys and Longbottoms just because they didn't agree with him. Because since his father lost his sanity to Azkaban and his mother her life to her own hand, Draco was the last of a line that stretched beyond memory. He fought to protect the remnants of that line, and because the Dark Lord would as soon kill him as anything else. These are the reasons he fought, these are well-known and documented.
There is more, he considered, watching the battle rage on, far below him. He caught sight of a golden banner, a black lightening bolt harsh against its sheen, amongst the other banners in battle. Although he thought the blatant show of location was foolish, he recognised the need for some to rally behind a leader, that a show of strength was often as effective as the presence of it. He watched the golden banner and knew his real reason for fighting, that without Potter, life wouldn't be worth living - not just the consequences of his failure, but the lack of Potter himself. The tormenting and bickering and personal slurs had continued over the past months of strategy, but they had shifted for Draco. They had become, and he hated to admit this, more a pulling of pigtails and desire for attention than based in real menace. He had yet to do anything about this shift of emotion, hesitant to create any distractions from the battle preparations. But maybe afterward...
The heat of nearby curses brought Draco back to himself and he hoisted his own banner in his left hand, securing it in the holster next to his leg. The silk snapped in the wind, a platinum dragon on a deep green background. Slytherin colours, through and through, despite the medley of houses at his side. Flanked by Charlie Weasley and his comrades, he let out a cry and guided his Norwegian Ridgeback down into battle.