Ahaha I’m so embarrassed. After an hour of fiddling, here is a thing I made with my set of 12 pencils and my set of 0 skills.
( @bootsssss and @goddamnshinyrock thank you very much for your colored pencil advice and input! I will probably do some more fiddling before deciding to buy a bigger set, but blending these things sure was relaxing! :D )
A Start (Which will probably never become a middle, or an end)
Draco had always been good at potions. He loved the undivided attention it required. Perhaps it was how easily everything could be lost. Simply chopping a bunch of lacewings at the wrong angle of elevation could destroy a perfectly good Polyjuice potion. Stirring Armortentia in the opposite direction could cause the adverse effect of a putrid scent, sending people running instead of inviting them in.
Horace Slughorn was evidently a perfectly qualified professor, and liked by most students, but he could never be as good of a potions teacher as Snape. Severus had understood Draco. He understood why Draco invested so much time and energy in potions, even though his Father remained unimpressed, and uninterested. Snape would indulge the young Malfoy in lengthy conversations about experimenting with tarantacular venom. Snape would treat Draco like an adult.
Draco’s drive to do well in potions had only been fuelled onwards by Snape’s death. The War had broken most aspects of his life. His Father was sentenced to 50 years in Askaban, his mother was a quivering, frightened wreck who could barely rouse herself long enough to hold a short conversation with her son. With Voldemort gone, Draco finally had the chance to rebuild himself into the man he always wanted to be. However, he was, and would always remain, a Death Eater.
He had escaped a prison sentence because Harry Potter, of all people, had spoken at his trial in defence of Draco’s actions. Granger, a very talented lawyer, had managed to convince the Wizengamot that Draco had only performed his war crimes, and taken the Dark Mark, in order to save his mother. Fear for his own life had spurred him into action. He was just a boy.
No, Draco wouldn’t rot in Askaban like his father. But he would remain a traitor, outcast from society for the rest of his days. As a subject of his release, Draco had to attended his ‘eighth year’ at Hogwarts - had to complete his NEWTs. Draco guessed it was supposed to give him a start for the rest of his life, but that would be nullified by his name. His fellow students welcomed him back with bracing enthusiasm. They ignored him for the most part.
And so, that is why Draco ended up back in his old potions classroom. Listening to old Slughorn recite the uses of Swooping Evil Poison for Obliviation.
Despite being able to get a job pretty much anywhere, Potter had returned to Hogwarts too. Along with Weasley. Granger had gone off to some wizarding law school in Wales, something Draco hadn’t even known existed. Neville and Finnigan had also returned, but Thomas was off playing muggle football.
The only friend Draco had was Luna Lovegood.
One evening, during dinner, she had approached Draco. He usually sat alone, at the end of the Slytherin table. Most people gave him a wide birth. He didn’t eat much, except for toast. Luna’s eerie voice had jolted Draco from his thoughts as she slid onto the bench beside him. Initially, Draco’s ‘Malfoy reaction’ was to sneer and push her away. But he stopped himself.
It turned out that Luna is actually a wonderful example of restored faith in humanity. Sweet, amusing and extremely perceptive, she quickly squirmed her way into the pale boy’s heart. One day, Luna had thanked him for his kindness while she was held prisoner in his dungeons. Draco had sobbed.
Unfortunately, Luna wasn’t studying potions. Draco had taken to sitting alone, at the back of the room. It was easier to escape that way, and he wouldn’t have to deal with the prickling sensation of someone staring at the back of his neck.
Potter sat in his usual seat. Halfway down the room, on the left, with Weasley beside him. He still struggled to brew a simple potion, and Draco didn’t know why he continued to study potions. Weasley was actually okay, now that he wasn’t constantly arguing with his girlfriend. He was constantly pining instead. Or comparing ‘love stories’ with Finnigan.
Today was no different. Weasley was nattering away. Neville was frowning. Draco was patiently waiting for the orange liquid in his cauldron to boil. His jet-black quill twirled between his fingers as he stared at a textbook. He hadn’t noticed anyone walking over. At least until a scruffy bag landed on the floor beside him, accompanied by a copy of Advanced, Advanced Potion Making slamming onto the desk. Draco jerked upright and stared at his unexpected guest.
“Potter.” His name had slipped over his lips, just like it always did. The Saviour had pulled off his robes, and was rolling up his shirt sleeves. His dark hair was in it’s usual disarray, gold and red tie hanging loosely around his neck, and his eyes were still impossibly green.
Got fingerprinted for my federal background check thing.
Printed forms for my federal background check thing.
Talked to the bank about an issue on my account. They want me to show up in person.
Together with my landlady, tried and failed to solve the mystery of the Seattle Seahawks jersey that UPS delivered to me this weekend. (Weirdly, I am wearing a Seattle t-shirt right now…)
Took a Lyft out to the bank to solve all my problems.
Veered off to the mall and bought a bunch of semi-grown-up work clothes so I’m not always frantically trying to find the least scruffy of my jeans-and-t-shirt combos. I mean, it’s still a sciencey place in a town that’s over 90F in September, so people are pretty chill about dress codes, but hey. Good impressions.
Stopped to grab nachos at the mall and the server came up to me and said, “Would you like to add a margarita to your order for $2.99?” to which the only possible answer was “…oh no.”
A good day! But now tired (and slightly tipsy) eponymous_rose has taken over, which means I am doing things I may regret in a few hours, including a Facebook post about the academic reviewing process and maybe possibly maybe maybe messaging back that cute girl on the dating app shush I don’t know what I’m doing.
02.06.2015 // Having a day dedicated to writing. Haven’t been able to get any decent writing done for so long but finally feeling motivated. I’ve mapped out the various scenes of my novel and marked how much I’ve done of each (p. is planned out fully and a tick is drafted in some way). I intend to have at least a hideous scruffy draft of every scene done by the start of July. I can make it sound all pretty and literary later.
ok but if fitz is in a coma for any length of time then I’m pretty sure that means we should get bearded!fitz or at least scruffy!fitz b/c I mean who has time to shave him and let me tell you leopold fitz with facial hair is something I would pay to see