April's Challenge Submission: Fairy Tales
Title: "D is for Draco"
Author: lilian_cho
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: PG for blood
Genre: Draco-centric gen
Pairing(s): Draco/Pansy but not really, H/D if you squint
Warning(s): Spoilers for Half-Blood Prince. Probably makes no sense to non-Harry Potter fans.
Betas: gelsey, ruien, rea_saint
Word Count: 920 words
Disclaimer/claimer This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Raincoast Books and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
This is the background for my Draco Malfoy in Blood of the Mind, Tears of the World at fire_jasmine.
ETA 02/06/2007: Read the companion piece: "C is for Castles" (823 words, Draco and Hermione, mentions of Snape and Harry)
Type of Feedback: I shall love you forever if you leave me some con-crit.
Summary: Ten snapshots of Draco Malfoy, age 8 to 17.
**********
The first magic in Draco’s memory was the ever-changing ceiling of his nursery.
Each night without fail his mother would point out the souls of Blacks past, immortalized as constellations on his ceiling. Then her voice would drop into a soft whisper as she pointed at his stars-his place in the sky.
When Draco turned eight-practically a grown-up-he woke up crying, because among the Pollux Arcturus Cassiopeia Cygnus Orion Bellatrix Regulus Sirius Black, there was no Narcissa.
**********
Draco stole glances at the patch of sunlit grass outside the window as his tutor droned on about goblins and Gringotts. He smothered a giggle as the billowing drapes grazed his cheek.
A strong gust of wind made the gauzy drapes flare, blocking his tutor’s view. The wind settled, and there was no Draco.
The young tutor only dared breathe again when the House-elves found the boy blinking away his afternoon under green velvet drapes in his mother’s room upstairs.
**********
Draco sat rigid in pressed dress robes, biting his lip in a gargantuan effort not to squirm. Ants were running up and down his back-the slightest movement added another patch of skin to the torture.
By the time pudding was served, even his scalp had started to itch. He stuck out his lip and refused to lift his arm and reach for the spoon. There was hardly a crease in his stiff white robes.
Later, Draco hexed his third cousin for the itching powder in his robes.
It had been chocolate pudding-Draco’s favorite.
**********
One House-elf trailed Draco discreetly everywhere he went. Draco inadvertently dropped things; it was efficient housekeeping to dedicate one House-elf to pick up his things for safe-keeping. This way they avoided his tantrums when he realized his favorite things were missing.
The trip to Diagon Alley was Draco’s first House-elf-free excursion. He dropped his books in Madam Malkin’s; Father made him go back and fetch them.
On the Hogwarts Express, he dropped his favorite quill and Harry Potter’s good will.
**********
Five glasses of wine were all it took for Lucius to lose his son’s absolute worship.
It vaguely occurred to Lucius that ranting about Arthur Weasley was beneath a Malfoy, but his dignity was lost back in the bookstore anyway.
His son probably did not need to hear about the day he botched his Transfiguration O.W.L. because Narcissa smirked at him. The guilty woman now laughed charmingly and took his wineglass away from him.
“And this, Draco,” warm eyes glittered, “is why you may not have more than one sip.”
**********
Draco stared at the pearly sheen of the brewing potion. Professor Snape’s permission had secured him the set of instructions from the Restricted Section.
Not questioning Draco’s motives, he merely stated that infertility was a known side effect of the potion’s prolonged use. When Draco simply set his lips in determination, he gave Draco ingredients from his private stores. “I’ve found that six instead of seven Snidget feathers maximizes the potion’s potency.” Draco flashed him a grateful smile and immediately set to work.
He drank the dregs of the weight-lightening potion in time for the first Quidditch match against Gryffindor.
**********
Draco saw his mother as a calm oasis. Whenever Father came back frustrated from dealing with “idiots at the Ministry,” she would touch cool fingers to his arm, and he would smile at her.
Which was why Draco watched in consternation when a House-elf brought a vial of what he knew was the Draught of Peace into his mother’s bedroom. She had pleaded a headache and retired to her room after portkeying back from the Quidditch World Cup.
She came down for breakfast the next day with a serene smile for him, and Draco breathed.
**********
Pansy complained about the rotten smell congregating in the common room. Blaise opened heavy-lidded eyes and smirked at her. Lazy smoke circles wafted from the “cansur stick” between his wet lips. Draco flicked tiny Quaffles through smoke hoops with his wand.
When Pansy huffed that no self-respecting Slytherin would smoke an inferior Muggle fag, Blaise strolled over and blew a lungful of smoke into Pansy’s gaping mouth. She was starting to splutter when Draco rose from the sofa and kissed her.
Blaise snorted, and Pansy blinked. And spluttered some more. Draco released her chin.
“I wanted to have a taste.”
**********
Leaky pipes went drip drip dripping in the background. The soundtrack of my life. Draco’s face felt hot as tears ran tracks down his cheeks. He absently felt grateful that none of the Slytherins could see him now.
He gripped the sink as he contemplated pouring his secrets to the murdered girl. Shuddering, he shook off temporary insanity and lifted his eyes to meet his reflection’s-only to gaze into Killing Curse eyes.
As he laid there bleeding listening to the girl screaming bloody murder, he could’ve sworn he could hear his red red blood dripping down Harry Potter’s wand.
**********
If Harry Potter always gets snitches socks for Christmas, Draco Malfoy always gets dragons. Puffy stuffed dragons, dragon coloring books, dragon’s teeth charm, dragon engraved snitch and that pair of dragon leather trousers from Blaise.
He therefore treasured the whimsical dragonfly brooch that his cousin bought in Muggle London. She had sported green and silver hair when she tossed it to him. He bit back a grin and pinned it to his threadbare robes.
The silver is unadulterated, and the wings bend with the slightest touch. This was inconsequential because Mother was no longer around to straighten up his robes.
**********
Author: lilian_cho
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: PG for blood
Genre: Draco-centric gen
Pairing(s): Draco/Pansy but not really, H/D if you squint
Warning(s): Spoilers for Half-Blood Prince. Probably makes no sense to non-Harry Potter fans.
Betas: gelsey, ruien, rea_saint
Word Count: 920 words
Disclaimer/claimer This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Raincoast Books and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
This is the background for my Draco Malfoy in Blood of the Mind, Tears of the World at fire_jasmine.
ETA 02/06/2007: Read the companion piece: "C is for Castles" (823 words, Draco and Hermione, mentions of Snape and Harry)
Type of Feedback: I shall love you forever if you leave me some con-crit.
Summary: Ten snapshots of Draco Malfoy, age 8 to 17.
**********
The first magic in Draco’s memory was the ever-changing ceiling of his nursery.
Each night without fail his mother would point out the souls of Blacks past, immortalized as constellations on his ceiling. Then her voice would drop into a soft whisper as she pointed at his stars-his place in the sky.
When Draco turned eight-practically a grown-up-he woke up crying, because among the Pollux Arcturus Cassiopeia Cygnus Orion Bellatrix Regulus Sirius Black, there was no Narcissa.
**********
Draco stole glances at the patch of sunlit grass outside the window as his tutor droned on about goblins and Gringotts. He smothered a giggle as the billowing drapes grazed his cheek.
A strong gust of wind made the gauzy drapes flare, blocking his tutor’s view. The wind settled, and there was no Draco.
The young tutor only dared breathe again when the House-elves found the boy blinking away his afternoon under green velvet drapes in his mother’s room upstairs.
**********
Draco sat rigid in pressed dress robes, biting his lip in a gargantuan effort not to squirm. Ants were running up and down his back-the slightest movement added another patch of skin to the torture.
By the time pudding was served, even his scalp had started to itch. He stuck out his lip and refused to lift his arm and reach for the spoon. There was hardly a crease in his stiff white robes.
Later, Draco hexed his third cousin for the itching powder in his robes.
It had been chocolate pudding-Draco’s favorite.
**********
One House-elf trailed Draco discreetly everywhere he went. Draco inadvertently dropped things; it was efficient housekeeping to dedicate one House-elf to pick up his things for safe-keeping. This way they avoided his tantrums when he realized his favorite things were missing.
The trip to Diagon Alley was Draco’s first House-elf-free excursion. He dropped his books in Madam Malkin’s; Father made him go back and fetch them.
On the Hogwarts Express, he dropped his favorite quill and Harry Potter’s good will.
**********
Five glasses of wine were all it took for Lucius to lose his son’s absolute worship.
It vaguely occurred to Lucius that ranting about Arthur Weasley was beneath a Malfoy, but his dignity was lost back in the bookstore anyway.
His son probably did not need to hear about the day he botched his Transfiguration O.W.L. because Narcissa smirked at him. The guilty woman now laughed charmingly and took his wineglass away from him.
“And this, Draco,” warm eyes glittered, “is why you may not have more than one sip.”
**********
Draco stared at the pearly sheen of the brewing potion. Professor Snape’s permission had secured him the set of instructions from the Restricted Section.
Not questioning Draco’s motives, he merely stated that infertility was a known side effect of the potion’s prolonged use. When Draco simply set his lips in determination, he gave Draco ingredients from his private stores. “I’ve found that six instead of seven Snidget feathers maximizes the potion’s potency.” Draco flashed him a grateful smile and immediately set to work.
He drank the dregs of the weight-lightening potion in time for the first Quidditch match against Gryffindor.
**********
Draco saw his mother as a calm oasis. Whenever Father came back frustrated from dealing with “idiots at the Ministry,” she would touch cool fingers to his arm, and he would smile at her.
Which was why Draco watched in consternation when a House-elf brought a vial of what he knew was the Draught of Peace into his mother’s bedroom. She had pleaded a headache and retired to her room after portkeying back from the Quidditch World Cup.
She came down for breakfast the next day with a serene smile for him, and Draco breathed.
**********
Pansy complained about the rotten smell congregating in the common room. Blaise opened heavy-lidded eyes and smirked at her. Lazy smoke circles wafted from the “cansur stick” between his wet lips. Draco flicked tiny Quaffles through smoke hoops with his wand.
When Pansy huffed that no self-respecting Slytherin would smoke an inferior Muggle fag, Blaise strolled over and blew a lungful of smoke into Pansy’s gaping mouth. She was starting to splutter when Draco rose from the sofa and kissed her.
Blaise snorted, and Pansy blinked. And spluttered some more. Draco released her chin.
“I wanted to have a taste.”
**********
Leaky pipes went drip drip dripping in the background. The soundtrack of my life. Draco’s face felt hot as tears ran tracks down his cheeks. He absently felt grateful that none of the Slytherins could see him now.
He gripped the sink as he contemplated pouring his secrets to the murdered girl. Shuddering, he shook off temporary insanity and lifted his eyes to meet his reflection’s-only to gaze into Killing Curse eyes.
As he laid there bleeding listening to the girl screaming bloody murder, he could’ve sworn he could hear his red red blood dripping down Harry Potter’s wand.
**********
If Harry Potter always gets snitches socks for Christmas, Draco Malfoy always gets dragons. Puffy stuffed dragons, dragon coloring books, dragon’s teeth charm, dragon engraved snitch and that pair of dragon leather trousers from Blaise.
He therefore treasured the whimsical dragonfly brooch that his cousin bought in Muggle London. She had sported green and silver hair when she tossed it to him. He bit back a grin and pinned it to his threadbare robes.
The silver is unadulterated, and the wings bend with the slightest touch. This was inconsequential because Mother was no longer around to straighten up his robes.
**********