One Fic, No Challenge
Title: In the Library
Summary: Draco finds his peace in the library, even when it is invaded by a beautiful stranger. The first part of a series.
Characters/Pairings: Draco + Astoria (implied future relationship)
Genre: Gen
Beta: None
Rating/Warnings: PG
Medium: Fic
Word Count: 1536
Can the Order post to Tumblr?: No
If yes, your Tumblr username: N/A
The library was peace. In the books he felt safe, surrounded by the smell of dust and paper, the stacks closing in on him like an embrace. Books never tortured or lied; books were a comfort. Books were hard and firm with sharp corners, but books never let him down. The library was always there, waiting for him, with the warm shaft of sunlight cast down upon his little table, where he could sit and read and be alone in the silence, the never-ending peace.
No one ever came looking for him anymore; he had free roam over the manor. And yet he would always be there, in the library, slipping through the door as though it were a secret, a forbidden thrill that belonged to him, and him alone. The solid wood of the door was so familiar to his fingertips that it gave his nerves a thrill just to touch it, even with his eyes closed.
It was a normal summer's afternoon, the sun slowly dwindling towards twilight, shadows rippling over the floorboards. He stepped through that holy entry, inhaling the scent of his own private universe, his heart racing in his chest as he pondered which book to select from the masses, which tome he would crawl into on this particular day, which secrets he might unlock of the world around him and the magic rushing through his veins.
He made his way through the stacks, running his fingers along the spines of his companions, the books sitting in their neat rows, lying under the dust of disuse, organized by their authors and subjects. Turning corners, darting across aisles, he wandered, until he came upon his nook, where the table had been placed beneath the open window, under the waning sun.
Freezing in his tracks, breath caught in his throat, he stumbled, the books forgotten as his eyes took in the scene, widening until they hurt. His table, his sanctum, his place of peace and silence, had been violated in a way that he absolutely could not understand, could never have predicted. There was a strange girl sitting in his seat, reading a book that surely belonged to him, and looking as though she had been sitting there forever. His library, his solitude, his peace, had been taken from him.
"Who are you?" he asked, or attempted to, though it was difficult to speak when he could no longer draw breath into his lungs. He felt as though he'd been stunned, knocked backwards by some invisible spell that had no name, something far more potent than any bright light created by wand could ever hope to be.
The girl looked up at him and let out a gasp, though he couldn't imagine why she should be more startled than he. This was his home, after all, his manor and his library and his table and his seat. She was the intruder, the invasion, the alien being. She was beautiful. He saw it slowly, as though it were coming towards him through a very dark tunnel, the gleam of her hair and the ocean in her eyes. Her skin was porcelean. Her lips in their little surprise o were cherry red and kissable. He felt his entire body twitch as he drank in the sight of her, the angel in the oasis of his life.
"Who are you?" she demanded, her voice unnaturally loud, and he startled at the sudden burst of it, as though an explosion had gone off in the room.
"This is my manor," he replied, firmly, planting his feet in a wide stance, staking his claim. He still had some of the old vestiges of that old life within him, stubbornness and family pride. Blood no longer had anything to do with it, if it ever had. "You're in my seat."
She lifted her body from said seat, looking down at it as though she did not know what it looked like, as though she did not know that it was there. "I'm sorry," she said, and her voice was quieter, soft like a warm summer's breeze against his skin. "But I believe you're mistaken."
A dull pounding ache began at the edges of his vision, knocking gently on his temples, the beginnings of confusion and irritation and doubt. Why should he question this beautiful creature, shimmering like the surface of the sea, with such calm certainty in her gaze and such ownership in her fingers, the way they turned his pages, read his words as though she owned them, as though she always had owned them? Still, how could he not, how could he let her have his library, his manor, his life? They had tried to take his life before, the multitudes of marching enemy lines barricading him from all that he had once held dear. He could not allow them to take his book room, too.
"This is my room," he said, feeling the burning edge of hysteria rising in his throat. "This is my home, this is my life, and I demand to know who you are right this instant."
She stared at him for a moment, contemplating, curiosity flickering in her deep blue eyes. "My name is Astoria," she said to him slowly. "Astoria Greengrass. And I've been here for a while now."
He stared. Greengrass was a familiar name to him but this girl was a stranger, this beauty in his midst so suddenly. "It's not possible," he told her, stuttering, feeling lost and foolish. "I've lived here my entire life. You can't have been here at all."
"I assure you that I have," she replied. Astoria placed her hands on his book, smoothing down his pages as she peered up at him from his seat. "You must be rather confused."
"I am not," he said defiantly. "I am Draco Malfoy, and this is my library. I demand you tell me how you got in immediately."
Astoria smiled at him, and it hurt his chest, made his face feel hot. "This is Malfoy Manor," she told him, "but my family lives here now. We paid for it and it's ours. I was feeling quite bored one afternoon and happened to stumble my way in here. I'm very fond of libraries so I kept coming back. Your family has some fascinating books."
Draco made a noise of disbelief, felt a wave of nausea rolling up his stomach into his throat. They had won; they had taken his home, his family away from him. He had fought so hard for freedom and to keep what he owned, and it was gone, stolen away under his feet and handed off to this new woman, this Astoria. He had slept right through it. "You can't stay here," he said. "Please. This is my library. Where will I go?" He suddenly felt very small; he was frightened.
She gave him such a sweet smile of kindness that he already felt connected to her, as though he had known her for ages, as though they were the dearest of friends. As though he already loved her. "You can stay if you like," she said softly, nodding her head, with shining dark ringlets of hair rippling down her cheeks. "I don't mind. I wouldn't force you to go unless you wanted to."
Draco reached his hand out to her and placed it on her shoulder; she was cold to the touch. He shivered. "I will stay," he said. "And I suppose you can sit here as well, since you're so dead set against leaving yourself. Even if this is still my home and my books. I don't truly mind sharing, if it's with the right sort of person."
She gave the slightest hint of laughter then, a burst of quiet delight, and then she was smiling up at him again, and turning the pages of his book. "We'll stay together, then," she told him, and gestured to the seat across the table. "Have a seat, if you can. I could read to you?"
He sat. "I would like that, I suppose," he said stiffly, still uncertain in how to proceed, how to deal with this disturbance in his peace. However, that perfect world still did exist around him; he was in his library, surrounded by the shifting slant of sunlight and the comforting smell of the books. And a beautiful young woman was reading to him, her voice as its own magic as it floated through the words printed into those ancient pages. Astoria read aloud and Draco listened, drinking in every syllable, and admiring the fair angel who had taken his seat. Perhaps this was a blessing from some higher power, a reward for the goodness Draco sought in his new life here in the library. He would bring no more harm to others, and he would follow darkness no more. He would sit in the sunlight and listen to stories, and he would have his peace.
They sat together in their secret space, in the dusty old shelves of the library, as the world turned around them where they could not see. And they each found their safety there, their peace away from the different troubles of their hearts.
1536 words = 51 points for Hufflepuff!
Summary: Draco finds his peace in the library, even when it is invaded by a beautiful stranger. The first part of a series.
Characters/Pairings: Draco + Astoria (implied future relationship)
Genre: Gen
Beta: None
Rating/Warnings: PG
Medium: Fic
Word Count: 1536
Can the Order post to Tumblr?: No
If yes, your Tumblr username: N/A
The library was peace. In the books he felt safe, surrounded by the smell of dust and paper, the stacks closing in on him like an embrace. Books never tortured or lied; books were a comfort. Books were hard and firm with sharp corners, but books never let him down. The library was always there, waiting for him, with the warm shaft of sunlight cast down upon his little table, where he could sit and read and be alone in the silence, the never-ending peace.
No one ever came looking for him anymore; he had free roam over the manor. And yet he would always be there, in the library, slipping through the door as though it were a secret, a forbidden thrill that belonged to him, and him alone. The solid wood of the door was so familiar to his fingertips that it gave his nerves a thrill just to touch it, even with his eyes closed.
It was a normal summer's afternoon, the sun slowly dwindling towards twilight, shadows rippling over the floorboards. He stepped through that holy entry, inhaling the scent of his own private universe, his heart racing in his chest as he pondered which book to select from the masses, which tome he would crawl into on this particular day, which secrets he might unlock of the world around him and the magic rushing through his veins.
He made his way through the stacks, running his fingers along the spines of his companions, the books sitting in their neat rows, lying under the dust of disuse, organized by their authors and subjects. Turning corners, darting across aisles, he wandered, until he came upon his nook, where the table had been placed beneath the open window, under the waning sun.
Freezing in his tracks, breath caught in his throat, he stumbled, the books forgotten as his eyes took in the scene, widening until they hurt. His table, his sanctum, his place of peace and silence, had been violated in a way that he absolutely could not understand, could never have predicted. There was a strange girl sitting in his seat, reading a book that surely belonged to him, and looking as though she had been sitting there forever. His library, his solitude, his peace, had been taken from him.
"Who are you?" he asked, or attempted to, though it was difficult to speak when he could no longer draw breath into his lungs. He felt as though he'd been stunned, knocked backwards by some invisible spell that had no name, something far more potent than any bright light created by wand could ever hope to be.
The girl looked up at him and let out a gasp, though he couldn't imagine why she should be more startled than he. This was his home, after all, his manor and his library and his table and his seat. She was the intruder, the invasion, the alien being. She was beautiful. He saw it slowly, as though it were coming towards him through a very dark tunnel, the gleam of her hair and the ocean in her eyes. Her skin was porcelean. Her lips in their little surprise o were cherry red and kissable. He felt his entire body twitch as he drank in the sight of her, the angel in the oasis of his life.
"Who are you?" she demanded, her voice unnaturally loud, and he startled at the sudden burst of it, as though an explosion had gone off in the room.
"This is my manor," he replied, firmly, planting his feet in a wide stance, staking his claim. He still had some of the old vestiges of that old life within him, stubbornness and family pride. Blood no longer had anything to do with it, if it ever had. "You're in my seat."
She lifted her body from said seat, looking down at it as though she did not know what it looked like, as though she did not know that it was there. "I'm sorry," she said, and her voice was quieter, soft like a warm summer's breeze against his skin. "But I believe you're mistaken."
A dull pounding ache began at the edges of his vision, knocking gently on his temples, the beginnings of confusion and irritation and doubt. Why should he question this beautiful creature, shimmering like the surface of the sea, with such calm certainty in her gaze and such ownership in her fingers, the way they turned his pages, read his words as though she owned them, as though she always had owned them? Still, how could he not, how could he let her have his library, his manor, his life? They had tried to take his life before, the multitudes of marching enemy lines barricading him from all that he had once held dear. He could not allow them to take his book room, too.
"This is my room," he said, feeling the burning edge of hysteria rising in his throat. "This is my home, this is my life, and I demand to know who you are right this instant."
She stared at him for a moment, contemplating, curiosity flickering in her deep blue eyes. "My name is Astoria," she said to him slowly. "Astoria Greengrass. And I've been here for a while now."
He stared. Greengrass was a familiar name to him but this girl was a stranger, this beauty in his midst so suddenly. "It's not possible," he told her, stuttering, feeling lost and foolish. "I've lived here my entire life. You can't have been here at all."
"I assure you that I have," she replied. Astoria placed her hands on his book, smoothing down his pages as she peered up at him from his seat. "You must be rather confused."
"I am not," he said defiantly. "I am Draco Malfoy, and this is my library. I demand you tell me how you got in immediately."
Astoria smiled at him, and it hurt his chest, made his face feel hot. "This is Malfoy Manor," she told him, "but my family lives here now. We paid for it and it's ours. I was feeling quite bored one afternoon and happened to stumble my way in here. I'm very fond of libraries so I kept coming back. Your family has some fascinating books."
Draco made a noise of disbelief, felt a wave of nausea rolling up his stomach into his throat. They had won; they had taken his home, his family away from him. He had fought so hard for freedom and to keep what he owned, and it was gone, stolen away under his feet and handed off to this new woman, this Astoria. He had slept right through it. "You can't stay here," he said. "Please. This is my library. Where will I go?" He suddenly felt very small; he was frightened.
She gave him such a sweet smile of kindness that he already felt connected to her, as though he had known her for ages, as though they were the dearest of friends. As though he already loved her. "You can stay if you like," she said softly, nodding her head, with shining dark ringlets of hair rippling down her cheeks. "I don't mind. I wouldn't force you to go unless you wanted to."
Draco reached his hand out to her and placed it on her shoulder; she was cold to the touch. He shivered. "I will stay," he said. "And I suppose you can sit here as well, since you're so dead set against leaving yourself. Even if this is still my home and my books. I don't truly mind sharing, if it's with the right sort of person."
She gave the slightest hint of laughter then, a burst of quiet delight, and then she was smiling up at him again, and turning the pages of his book. "We'll stay together, then," she told him, and gestured to the seat across the table. "Have a seat, if you can. I could read to you?"
He sat. "I would like that, I suppose," he said stiffly, still uncertain in how to proceed, how to deal with this disturbance in his peace. However, that perfect world still did exist around him; he was in his library, surrounded by the shifting slant of sunlight and the comforting smell of the books. And a beautiful young woman was reading to him, her voice as its own magic as it floated through the words printed into those ancient pages. Astoria read aloud and Draco listened, drinking in every syllable, and admiring the fair angel who had taken his seat. Perhaps this was a blessing from some higher power, a reward for the goodness Draco sought in his new life here in the library. He would bring no more harm to others, and he would follow darkness no more. He would sit in the sunlight and listen to stories, and he would have his peace.
They sat together in their secret space, in the dusty old shelves of the library, as the world turned around them where they could not see. And they each found their safety there, their peace away from the different troubles of their hearts.
1536 words = 51 points for Hufflepuff!