sooo–i have plans for a YOI model AU zine! (๑´ㅂ`๑) The idea behind it is that Viktor is a retired model who’s gone on to pursue photography and focus on his new agency, Nikiforov Models. He also has his own successful fashion line in which Yuuri (Viktor’s latest protege) is the main face for. The above shots of Yuuri were taken during his time at Celestino Models.
That’s the gist of it, basically! i’ve never even made a zine before-!! /SWEATS/ it’s something I’ve always wanted to do, and i hope i’ll not drop it halfway ;w; If anyone is even remotely interested in getting a zine like this, feel free to let me know (i need a little motivation…just a little, LOL) (´๑•_•๑)
November third. It should have been a day like any other. Except it never was. Not for Draco Malfoy.
Muggles would call it a self-fulfilling prophecy. You anticipate something to happen so strongly that you end up seeking it out yourself, creating your own destiny and yet still calling it fate.
Some wizards had a different view. That the strength of a singular focus could work itself like an unconscious spell, creating magical power in a word, an idea, a date (for example), that you never intended.
Either way, the result ended up the same. Every November 3rd, the universe seemed to grant Draco Malfoy a chance with Harry Potter. A chance for what exactly, it wasn’t always clear. But something more than their rivalry. Something more than the empty words they shouted at each other across the schoolyard. Something that grew into a little bit more something every year.
The first November third after Draco Malfoy met Harry Potter was, of course, unexpected. The date had no significance yet. But by this time, within a few short months of meeting each other, Harry Potter had already become Draco Malfoy’s arch rival.
Draco found himself almost constantly thinking of ways to outsmart, and outmanoeuvre Potter, the golden child. Everyone loved Potter. Worshipped him, even. It wasn’t fair. Was Draco the only one who could see there wasn’t anything special about Potter apart from the scar on his head? And that had been the Dark Lord’s doing.
Of course, the thing that annoyed Draco the most about Potter, though, was the refusal of his friendship. It was as if Potter thought himself better than Draco. That Draco wasn’t worthy of Potter’s friendship. Like Potter was so great. He clearly didn’t understand or recognise Draco’s status in the Wizarding World or he would have jumped at the opportunity to be Draco’s friend. Draco took comfort in the knowledge that Potter would soon learn and regret ever turning a Malfoy away.
Still, there was a thrill in having an arch rival. Someone to scowl at across the breakfast table. Someone to try out new hexes on. Someone to compete with. And someone to fight.
There was always a crowd when they fought, whether it be with wands or words. Even when they had their wands out, it was mostly words anyway. Neither of them knew much magic yet. Although Potter’s knowledge was severely lacking, like he’d never picked up a wand before coming to Hogwarts.
And whether it was fated or a coincidence, come the first November third, Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter met without those jeering crowds, in a quiet corridor, completely alone.
Draco had been frustrated about not understanding his History of Magic homework and too embarrassed to ask anyone else for help. He found himself up late the night before it was due, pacing the common room, trying to work himself out of the mess his own pride had created. Eventually he’d grown tired with the Slytherin dorm and ventured out into the castle, despite it being after hours. He figured he could always drop his name if a teacher found him. He knew his father could be very influential when he wanted to be.
He’d wandered higher than he’d meant to. Well, in fact, he had been a little curious as to the location of the Gryffindor Common Room (for the purpose of pranks of course) and found his feet simply took him in that direction. He didn’t find it of course. Just a number of endless long hallways that all looked the same bar the tall portraits that hung on the walls. One of the portraits - a lady in a hideously pink dress - had even tried to tell him off for roaming after hours. He had only walked faster.
Draco had been turning into a walkway he knew he’d seen before when he spotted a familiar figure shuffling towards him, in an old grey sweatshirt at least four sizes too big, and flannel pants that trailed across the floor. Oddly enough, despite the lack of audience for once, Draco experienced a bit of what could only be described as stage fright, nerves he didn’t recognise settling in his gut. It was a moment before he could work up the strength to speak.
”And I thought you were ugly enough in the day,” Draco managed to whisper, his voice carrying the distance easily with only a slight tremor. “Are those really your pyjamas, Potter?”
“Hmmmm,” was all Potter said in reply, still shuffling forwards.
That unsettled Draco. Potter was supposed to bite back with something witty, something to fuel the fight. Not - do whatever the hell he was doing now. Still, Draco kept his cool.
“I’m not surprised. Living with muggles - they were sure to rub off on you.”
Potter’s voice was so quiet, Draco almost didn’t hear it in the silent corridor. “They didn’t let me have pyjamas.”
“They didn’t let you have pyjamas?” Draco repeated. “What are you talking about? You’re speaking nonsense.”
Potter stopped shuffling, and leant up against the corridor wall, but not at his back like you’d expect, but all slumped on his side, his face squished awkwardly. “Always Dudley’s,” the squished face said. “Never had my own.”
Draco kept walking closer. Potter was acting weird. “What’s a Dudley? And never had your own what? Pyjamas?”
Draco was sure he hadn’t heard properly. “What do you mean you’ve never had your own clothes? The muggles don’t buy you clothes?” He asked. It didn’t make sense. Potter was the boy who lived, the golden boy, the Wizarding World’s saviour. He got everything he wanted. How could he not have clothes?
“No,” Potter confirmed, stretching out the word. “I’m a waste of money.”
Draco blinked. “But you’re…Harry Potter.”
“I’m Harry Potter,” Potter repeated on one note, just as Draco came close enough to see his face properly in the dark corridor. His eyes were closed, and his face looked oddly relaxed, a vacant look that gave Draco the impression Potter’s mind was far from their conversation.
“Are you sleepwalking?”
“Mmmmm.” Potter’s reply wasn’t particularly descriptive but it gave Draco his answer all the same. All at once he realised the power he had.
“I could ask you anything.”
Draco didn’t hesitate. There was one question that sprung to his mind immediately. One that had been ricocheting around in his head since the start of the school year. “Why’d you turn my friendship down?”
Sleeping Potter shrugged against the wall. “You were mean to Ron.”
Draco almost rolled his eyes but he ended up not bothering since Potter couldn’t appreciate the gesture in his current state anyway. All this time, Draco had thought there had been something wrong with him, when it was just that bloody Weasley kid.
His next question came to mind just as easy. “What do you think of me, then?”
Potter’s face screwed up before he answered - so Draco already knew he wasn’t going to like it. “Mean. Cruel. Selfish. A bully.” The words came out slowly, each one hitting Draco as harshly as the first.
“That’s not - you’re the one always goading me! What am I supposed to do?” Draco half-whispered, half-shouted. “You know what? Wait here, Potter.” Draco had let his voice rise a little higher than he strictly should’ve, considering the time of night, but he had more important things to worry about than keeping his volume in check. He had something to prove now.
He left Potter slumped up against the wall and hurried back down to the Slytherin dorms. He never realised how far down the dungeons really were until he travelled from the seventh floor to said dorms and back on one single journey. Hogwarts was in dire need of a lift.
On his way back up to the seventh floor, a small vindictive part of Draco hoped Potter had been caught by a teacher and punished. But a bigger, more controlling part of him was holding onto the hope that Potter would be exactly where Draco left him - he couldn’t very well prove his point without Potter.
Luck was on Draco’s side it would seem - it was November third after all - as Potter hadn’t moved further than slumping to the floor of the corridor, his head still resting against the wall.
“Here, take these,” Draco said, dumping a pair of pyjamas into Potter’s lap - nothing flashy, just the silver, silk ones he’d been gifted last Christmas. “Just so you know I’m not selfish.
“Thanks,” Potter mumbled, clutching at the material loosely. He didn’t seem as aware as he had been earlier.
“Well go along then,” Draco whispered down at him. “Back to your bed.”
Potter didn’t move. Despite the uncomfortable looking position, Potter appeared quite content to remain as he was.
For a second, Draco considered waking him up, or taking him back to the Gryffindor Common Room - if he could find it - but then he remembered this was Harry Potter. And he was Draco Malfoy.
It was late anyway. By the time Draco returned to his dorm, it was almost midnight. He allowed himself a single thought to how Potter was faring on the floor before he fell asleep. The strange night with Potter was over. And that was that. Draco wasn’t one to dwell on possibilities. They were arch rivals - it had been decided as soon as Potter had rejected Draco’s friendship, maybe even earlier. That was their only story. Anything else was impossible.
This silly comic is for @starkscap! She taught me some swearwords in German and after our chat I had an idea bouncing in my head that led to this, so blame her lol
Anyway, ‘leck mich am Arsch’ literally means ‘lick my ass,’ but a more correct translation is ‘kiss my ass,’ and apparentely this sentence can’t be used in a sexual way (what a shame!). I decided to ignore this or maybe JARVIS is tired of all the sexual tension between these idiots, who knows.