they imagine what it would be like to kiss you, how’d you taste, would you be sweet or would the bitter taste of hops from golden ale linger on your tongue when they pulled you close? how would you feel in their arms? curving your waist towards them or sighing gently as they cling to you like a lifeline
From one to another (Sometimes one piece is all it takes) ~ Drarry Oneshot
Books have always saved Draco time and time again
HUGE THANKS TO @xx-thedarklord-xx for beta-ing <3<3<3<3
When Draco was younger, he used to read.
Mountains worth of books adorned the Malfoy family library, and Draco sat, reading them for hours and hours on end.
The house-elves would attempt to retrieve him for food and general health-related things, but he would whine, grabbing books to take with him, no matter how guilty he felt.
Draco never liked taking books out of the library. He supposed it must be a childish thing, feeling guilty over keeping books with him instead of letting them be with their ‘family’.
‘But what if they’re being bullied?’
It could just be the aura of the library. With its high ceilings that seemed reachable due to the bookshelves that ran from top to bottom. The windows that never caught the sun’s set or rise, because that would cast shadows and shine annoyingly in your eyes, but yet still managed to catch a warm glow that made the books seem enchanted. The chairs were the most comfortable in the manor, chosen by his mother herself when they had been refurbishing for the first time in generations.
Draco ran circles around his parents as they personalized the manor to their tastes, giggles filling the household. The kind only an innocent child who hadn’t been touched with the hardships of reality could share, the ones that made even the toughest of adults crack a fond smile. One with warmth.
Yes, the library was Draco’s favorite place in the world.
Draco read all the books he could—not including the boring music theory books that his private tutor tries to make him read, he hates those—soon he craved more.
All these books- about knowledge and history and theories- were fascinating, no lie! He loves each and every topic, never bored- unless it’s politics because those adults were frustrating! Just have a civil conversation for Merlin's sake, not a civil war!- and bloodlines or arithmetic, but honestly who does enjoy them?
One day, Draco had found a novel. It was his father’s, surprisingly, but he would never tell - or, at least, never tell and live. One about a—really really bad and sappy, ew—romance.
He didn’t like it, the plot was...weird. Why would the girl want a vampire? And there was a werewolf?
Muggles were odd.
But Draco was terrified that his father would find out, so he put the book back.
After that he weaned off muggle fictions, opting for wizard fantasy. Things like Lockhart, because everyone with more than half a brain cell would know those books were obviously fiction. Stories of sappy—and frankly disgusting—love, A.K.A really bad romance novels—emphasis on bad—and honestly terrible mystery novels.
He hated it.
Wizards are ironically not creative, not one bit. All the great potion masters and spell creators are ones with imagination, but for the average wizard why would they dream? They have magic, and all they want is money, want validation.
It wasn’t what Draco was looking for.
Draco yearned for a tale that would make him fall in love once more, having already done so twice (*cough* golden boy *cough*) before. Stories similar, not exactly like that other book, but similar.
Muggles have such an active imagination, and their writing reflects that with metaphors and extensive vocabulary. They brought their tale to life. Much different than the bland ink on parchment the wizarding world had to offer.
At least in the Britsh Wizarding World. Other countries are more imaginative, the East for one, with their magic carpets and extensive Divination. But he doubts Father would allow him imported books on ‘studies’, let alone novels.
Draco wanted something that would make him feel. Make him forget.
Stories similar to the folktales and legends, but beyond the Wizarding world. Tales to make him lost in them rather in his overactive imagination.
He wanted something that would break him, make him hurt in all the good ways. Make him cry out internally in frustration and pain for the characters. Ones that would leave wounds and shatter the pieces left, before sticking a flimsy little plaster on it, calling it a day.
Ones that took him to the far corners of the earth. That had him running and jumping, and diving with the fish in the deep deep sea. Chasing after criminals and crying over those lost as though they were his own.
And one day he found them.
~📚*📖*📚~
Honestly, it really hadn’t been his fault. He was so so very bored—he also couldn’t find that book of Father’s again, he suspected it had been burned, good riddance—waiting for mother and father to finish whatever business he pretended to care about and dragged him along for.
Truly, he hadn’t meant to. Deep down though, he had desired to be back in the library.
But that girl caught his eye.
Or, more specifically, the book did.
It was worn down, very obviously one that had been used for years.
Many might believe he would find that revolting. On the contrary, Draco found it rather endearing.
The girl had long white-blonde hair—rather similar to his actually—and an odd pair of—were those radishes?—earrings. But Draco only had eyes for the torn paperback in her hands.
“Pardon me, what book is that?”
She turned, large eyes as blue as the summer sky. They were soft and wise, even though she appeared to be younger than Draco himself.
“It’s a novel, about a demon and an angel.” Her voice sounded like distant jingle bells on a snowy winter’s night.
“Oh?” he asked, eager and intrigued.
15 minutes later, they left the business party, a list of muggle novels hastily written in curly letters of sparkly mint green ink for Dobby to fetch for him, keeping a bookmark where he last left off in the worn paperback novel hidden on his person.
~📚*📖*📚~
The leaves bled from green to red as the seasons changed. Leaving behind the warm summer breezes and long days, and replacing them with crisp autumn air and early sunsets. The years went by, times changed rapidly and as did the people.
Draco losing to everything, to school and everything else that happened in those somewhat hellish seven years.
But after the war, Draco lost himself, and he needed to ground himself, that little boy in a library crying out after being repressed for so long.
So, robotically, Draco dug through his closet. In a small box, among his niffler plush—that definitely didn’t have little handmade round glasses, what do you mean?—a handmade badge from fourth year—that made him scoff and shake his head fondly—and other nicknacks from the years, carrying memories new and old, lay his most prized possession—the book that had saved him time and time again.
Good Omens by Niel Gaiman and Terry Pratchett
But would it save him again? Only time would tell.
~📚*📖*📚~
Years after the war left him a criminal, Draco Malfoy-Potter is now one of the Wizarding World’s famous fantasy novelists.
Draco found love in the form of one raven haired boy, just a mere 6 months after his first book.
Not many knew how or why, at least not for a long time.
Their love could be a story all on its own—now there's an idea.
Eli slowly stepped out of the shower, eyes half lidding through the long fringe which dipped into them, gazing slowly from head to foot at her reflection. There was inner contempt as she reached her chest, turning from one side to the other. Why did she feel like this? Why...? She wished she had someone to talk with, someone who understood these confusing emotions that ran through her mind. Was she really a.. Freak? Was it... Wrong? Swallowing heavily, the Scout turned from the mirror again to finish drying off, pushing the will to ease into that binder, the soft restriction around her torso doing everything to take away that reminder. Max was a hateful man, maybe... He was just trying to make her doubt herself... As if there was any need for more.
First and foremost, the reader should be aware that every living, breathing being possesses some form of Manipulation. Some happen to be more advanced than others, however there is never a human without one.
Secondly, the reader should be aware that one cannot simply pinpoint a Manipulation. Manipulations vary in every human being and no two people have the same Manipulation. Similar, perhaps, but never the same. This case is an exception in cases such as Twins, who each are born with the Gemini Manipulation. (Please refer to page 237 for further information on Gemini Manipulation.)
——
So this is what one would find in the first page of one of the schoolbooks of my novel. Being the author and creator, I can specify a bit.
• First paragraph: EVERY SINGLE human being has a Manipulation.
Manipulations are gifts of God. Some people's Manipulations are just more apparent than others, however each person has one. For example, an athletic swimmer might have a Water Manipulation, specifically in Current Manipulation. They can manipulate the water around them to their will, increasing their speed and movement in the water. A gymnast: most likely a Body Manipulator, specifically Flexibility. A track star: Wind Manipulator, classification Speed.
Some are just more practiced with their Manipulation than others; but you are never without a Manipulation.
• Second Paragraph: One cannot pinpoint a Manipulation.
This is a half-truth actually. It is possible to IDENTIFY a Manipulation in a person. Clarifying, one cannot track all Manipulations.
I tried to at one point; but this falls back to that every single Manipulation is different. It's ranges can't be scaled, especially not physically, and the only way to really find out more about Manipulations and identify each type is to be AROUND more-professional Manipulators in their field.