I like rains.
That Tea Place
Joined February 2019
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Professional vibe enjoyer retweeted
“Decided who you’re going to the ball with, Draconia?” asked Goyle.
Draconia Malfoid sighed, lying back in the grass with her arms crossed behind her head.
“No, not yet. Too many boys to choose from.”
“Didn’t you say a Durmstrang boy asked you?”
“As if I’d ever go to the ball with one of those troll-brained idiots.”
“Well you’d better pick soon, time is running out.”
Draconia looked up at the sky, fiddling with her wand. The truth is, no one had asked her. Even Crabbe and Goyle, fat as they are, had several prospects.
“Did you hear Harry Potter got rejected?” said Goyle, chewing on some candy.
Draconia shot up.
“What?”
“He asked Cho Chang, and she laughed at him or something.”
“He asked… Cho?”
Draconia suddenly felt very hot.
“The other day, yeah. But she’s going with Cedric, I heard.”
“Might’ve been a tactic to get into Cedric’s head, try to steal his girl y’know?” chimed in Crabbe.
Draconia slowly unclenched her fists.
“I’m sorry, I just realized I’m late for studying.”
“Since when do you study?” snorted Goyle, stuffing more candies into her mouth.
Draconia smacked the box out of her hands.
“Since when do you ever stop eating?”
Draconia walked away in a huff from the courtyard, in no direction in particular. Honestly, the nerve of that Goyle. The nerve of the boys in this stupid school. She walked past a couple sitting on a bench, kissing. Gross.
“Everything alright Miss Malfoid?” asked Nearly Headless Nick, poking his head up from beneath the floor.
“Fine. Thanks.” she replied through gritted teeth, stepping through his ghost head as she walked.
She found herself in the entrance hall, alone with the Goblet of Fire. The cup was empty and lifeless, having served its purpose of spitting out the names of the Triwizard champions. The room was dimly lit by enchanted blue torches along the walls. She sighed, sitting on a bench in front of it. Mother and father would be so ashamed if she went to the ball herself. Especially after all of those letters telling her to make herself known to Cedric Diggory. “A girl of your stature needs to go with a Triwizard champion.” she repeated, sarcastically.
The door creaked open, and Draconia eyed it suspiciously as a figure with messy black hair, round glasses, and Gryffindor robes entered the room.
“What do *you* want?” Draconia sneered.
“Nothing with you, that’s for sure.” Harry Potter taunted back.
Draconia scoffed.
“Come to tamper with the goblet again, Mr. Boy-Who-Cheated?”
“I came to be alone, actually. To think. You ever try that?”
“Didn’t think you had it in you to ever want a break from the attention.”
“It’s hard sometimes, being the greatest wizard who ever lived. I slayed a dragon, you know. Not sure if you saw.”
Draconia rolled her eyes so hard she thought they’d flip into the back of her head.
“Well I’m not leaving. Got to look after the goblet, you know.” she said, gesturing to the cup, “So you may as well join me, so I can keep an eye on you.”
Harry opened his mouth like he had something to say, but closed it, and sat next to her. They both sat in silence for several moments, listening to the crackle of the blue torches along the walls.
“I heard you asked Cho Chang to the ball,” Draconia said softly.
“Yeah. I got turned down.”
Draconia started giggling, and Harry’s eyes narrowed.
“Well who are you going with then?” he said.
Draconia’s eye twitched.
“Oh, I haven’t decided yet. Too many suitors to choose from. Thinking of going with a Durmstrang boy, an older one.” Draconia said innocently, eyeing Harry as she said it.
“Durmstrang?” Harry laughed, “The Malfoid I know wouldn’t go to the ball with one of those troll-brained idiots.”
“Well perhaps you don’t know me as well as you think, Potter,” she said, stubbornly.
“Perhaps I don’t.” Harry chuckled.
She didn’t reply, continuing to stare at the Goblet of Fire. He really didn’t. She’d attempted to use the spell that killed his parents. Avada kedavra. Moody was right. If Harry really did know her, he would hate her. Maybe he already does.
“Did you really cheat? You know, to get your name into the cup?”
“You think I’d choose to fight a dragon of my own accord?”
“Don’t play stupid Potter, you wouldn’t have known there’d be a dragon.”
“No, I didn’t put my name in the cup.”
“Honestly?”
“Honestly. I don’t know who did. I thought it was you, for a while.”
“Me?” Draconia laughed, “Why would I do that?”
“I dunno. To humiliate me?” Harry smirked as he said it.
“If I wanted to humiliate you I’d make sure you ended up alone at the Yule Ball,” Draconia giggled, “but I wouldn’t kill you.”
“Yeah well, it seems you’ll get your way then.”
“Since Cho turned you down?”
“I don’t care about Cho. She was my second choice anyway,” he said, defensively.
“Is that so.”
“Yeah.”
“So you’ve been rejected twice? How embarrassing.” Draconia said flatly, not even looking at him.
“I haven’t, you twit. Only once. I never asked the other girl.”
“Oh?”
Harry looked down at his shoes, and Draconia felt her pulse quicken.
“It’s just… how do you ask someone to the ball that you know will say no?”
“After slaying a dragon is there seriously any vapid, easily impressed girl in this school who would turn you down, Potter?”
“You would.”
“I’m not vapid, or easily impressed.”
Annoyingly, Harry looked like he was stifling a laugh.
“The girl I’m talking about is… well, it’s complicated.”
“Complicated.” she repeated.
“I mean, she’s beautiful. Intelligent, too. Rough around the edges, but… I dunno. I think she hates me, honestly.”
“Well if it makes you feel better, no one could hate you more than me.”
“Exactly.”
Draconia frowned. What did that mean?
“Do whatever you want, Potter. Why are you telling me this?”
“Well, you’re a girl. How would you feel?”
She sighed.
“If someone, somewhere, out there felt that way about me, I would want them to tell me, yes.”
“Even if you hated them?”
“Sure, Potter,” she said, rolling her eyes, “Even if I hated them.”
Harry rolled his wand between his fingertips, nervously.
“Then Draconia… would you like to go to the ball with me?”
Draconia blinked, suddenly feeling very hot again.
“A galleon on the dragon.” Crabbe leaned over, smugly.
“Shut up Crabbe,” Draconia Malfoid replied, clasping her hands together.
A cannon erupted, and Potter appeared, with his messy black hair and his perpetually-cracked glasses, waving to the crowd. The dragon didn’t give him a beat, slamming its tail in his direction. He rolled out of the way, and Draconia yelped involuntarily. Goyle was laughing like an idiot beside her. Didn’t she know this was real?
“Accio Firebolt!” Potter shouted, and nothing happened. The dragon roared, blowing fire in all directions, straining against the chain that held it to the ground. Even from here, in the stands, the heat was almost unbearable. Potter leapt behind a rock, hiding himself from the flame. The dragon pressed harder, blowing more flame in his direction, its spines standing on end.
Suddenly, a broom shot into the arena, and Potter jumped onto it. The crowd erupted, chanting his name. Draconia had to bite back the urge to chant alongside them. Harry was showboating again, flying circles around the dragon. She rolled her eyes, smiling to herself.
“Typical Potter, cheating again.” said Goyle, with a mouthful of popcorn.
“Shut up Goyle.”
The chain snapped. Harry nearly fell off his broom in surprise as the dragon leapt up to bite at him. He zipped around the arena, the dragon hot on his tail, blasts of fire in every direction. The dragon swooped near the crowd, and hundreds ducked. Draconia frantically looked around for Dumbledore. Why isn’t anyone doing anything? Potter and the dragon continued to race, each bite and breath of flame just barely missing him. He flew over the stands, headed away from the crowd and towards Hogwarts. The crowd was completely silent, and all she could hear were flaps of dragon wings, fading into the distance.
Without thinking, she started pushing through the people beside her to exit the stands. Running down the stairs, her mind racing faster than her feet, bumping into people on her way out of the arena. Her legs carried her as fast as she could go, the cold wind biting at her face as she ran through the grass toward the front gate of Hogwarts. Harry and the dragon outpaced her, and she lost track of them as they continued their pursuit in between the high towers of Hogwarts.
Draconia reached the front gate, panting. She looked up and gasped. Harry had been knocked from his broom, scrambling on an outcropping with his broom out of reach. The dragon landed with a massive thud, and began slithering up the tower, its claws digging into the brick as it sniffed out its prey.
Draconia pulled out her wand, aiming it at the dragon. Her hands were shaking. She knew the words, her father had taught them to her. It’s not unforgivable to save a life, is it?
“AVADA KEDA-“
“EXPELLIARMUS!”
Her wand snapped out of her hand, landing in the grass. She spun around in a rage to see Professor Moody, pointing his wand at her.
“Don’t interfere, girl.”
“How dare you!” she shrieked, jumping towards her wand. Moody was faster, wrapping his arms around her, holding her in place.
“Let me GO!” she shouted, struggling against his hold, kicking her feet and screaming.
“Watch, girl.”
Harry was on his broom again, outrunning the dragon. But he wasn’t as fast as he was before. The dragon was getting closer, nipping at the back of his broomstick with each flap of its wings. They were headed towards the bridge.
Draconia squirmed out of Moody’s grasp, and leapt towards her wand, landing in the mud. She snatched it, rolled over, and aimed at the dragon hundreds of yards away.
“STUPEFY!”
Harry threaded the needle between the arches of the bridge, and the dragon stumbled in its attempt to follow, knocking itself against the hard stone. It shrieked in pain, slamming its head into the arches before spiraling into the chasm below.
“YES!” Draconia squealed, feeling relief wash over her. Moody gave her a contemptuous glare with that freakish false-eye of his.
“Come with me," Professor Moody growled, yanking her by the arm. She was so relieved she didn’t even care. From behind, she could hear the entire arena erupt in cheers.
They walked through the empty halls of Hogwarts in silence. Draconia couldn’t stop smiling to herself. Everyone else was away, watching the first task. Filch and his mangy cat were probably the only ones here, she thought. Moody took a drink of his flask. He was always doing that, drinking on the job. Another thing she’d have to tell her father about, how far Hogwarts has fallen to allow drunks to teach. Moody’s steps were belabored and uneven, and his false eye darted around in seeming paranoia. Eventually, they reached his office.
“Sit down.” he said, gruffly.
She did, choosing not to say anything.
Moody looked down at her ‘Potter stinks’ badge.
“Made those yourself, did you?”
“I most certainly did not.“
“Happy to wear something with his name on it. Hm? Is that it?”
“Excuse m-“
“Quiet. Dumbledore asked me to look after Potter. And the last thing he needs is some lovesick harpy meddling in the tournament, understand?”
“I tried to save him!” she shouted incredulously, standing as she did. How dare this brutish, ugly, vulgar, piece of-
Moody flicked his wand, and she was thrust back into her chair.
“You just as easily could’ve killed him. Then what, hm? You think of that? If that spell went a wee bit to the left and struck Mr. Potter?”
“I-“
“Think you can aim a spell with any accuracy from 500 yards, do you?”
She opened her mouth to respond, but couldn’t find the words.
“The killing curse as a first resort. You’re just like your father,” he continued.
She stayed silent. She really could’ve killed him. It would’ve been all her fault.
“I didn’t mean to.” she said, meekly.
“How do you think Mr. Potter would feel if he were to find out about this? Think he’d approve of you attempting to use the spell that killed his parents?”
“I was only trying to-“
“It doesn’t matter. Stay away from Potter.”
“What?!”
“You heard me. Whether you want to kiss him or curse him, he’s better off without you.”
Draconia’s jaw dropped in shock. The sheer audacity of this cretin to speak to her this way. She inhaled and exhaled slowly, composing herself as she stood.
“If that’s all, Professor, I will be going now,” she said, with ice in her voice.
Moody took another swig of his flask.
“Tell your father Professor Moody sends his regards.”
She bit her tongue and stood, storming out of the office. Moody only stared at her with that freakish eye of his as she did. Anger bubbled inside her. How dare he. This ugly creature thinks he can tell her what to do. This freak thinks he can lord his meager school authority over her? Her father would hear about this. Her father would take care of him. Her shoes clicked against the marble floor as she strode down the hallway. She entered the girl’s bathroom, brushing the dried mud on her robes onto the floor.
Draconia approached the sink, standing before a broken mirror, and bent down to wash the dirt from her face.
“Stay away from Potter?” she muttered, looking up to glare at herself in the cracked glass.
Never.
Professional vibe enjoyer retweeted
Of course she's trouble, she's a woman. Thats what they do. They are difficult, contrary, inconsistent and mess up our plans. Always disrupting our little ideas of order. Thats why we need and love them Harry! We would all be nerdy dullards if we didn't have that Yearning.
Professional vibe enjoyer retweeted
I love the whole "Malfoid" thing, I really do. And i'm not even the target audience. I've enjoyed writing it, and its totally unleashed my muse.
I've been thinking about why the whole Malfoid fanfiction phenomenon is doing so ridiculously well, and I think I've figured something out.
Men are absolutely STARVING for good romance. Plenty of women, too, I guess.
Not pornography. Not harems. Not some elaborate sexual power fantasy. Romance.
Two people who who are confused by their feelings, who make mistakes, who struggle to understand one another, and who slowly, awkwardly, sometimes painfully fall in love.
You know. That thing human beings have been doing to each other for thousands of years. In story form.
Somewhere along the way, the publishing industry decided that men don't like romance. (xitter.cf/ShamashAran/status/210…) The alternatives everyone's been offered for the past couple of decades have been, to put it delicately, a radioactive dumpster fire.
On one side, you've got male-oriented harem fantasies where every woman within a fifty-mile radius is aching for a sexual encounter, in graphicly written detail.
On the other, you've got the darker corners of romantasy, where the height of romantic fulfillment involves being kidnapped, abused (physically, mentally, or both) or literally raped by a seven-foot-tall monster with the emotional maturity of a malfunctioning garbage disposal.
I'm sitting here thinking: CAN TWO PEOPLE JUST FALL IN LOVE WITHOUT SOMEBODY GETTING RAPED OR DEVELOPING A HAREM?
Apparently that's too much to ask.
This brings me back to Malfoid. Here's a huge set of stories written by many different folks, about two fundamentally decent people, raised in very different worlds, struggling with their feelings, their prejudices, their loyalties, and their expectations. Neither is perfect. Neither always knows what they're doing. Sometimes they're absolute idiots.
They have something, and we get to watch it develop in story form.
The romance isn't about sexual conquest or domination. It's about vulnerability, trust, affection, and the terrifying realization that another human being has become extraordinarily important to you.
And people are eating it up. Which brings me to my theory.
Malfoid has caused a false vacuum decay in the quantum field of romantic literature.
For decades, we've been trapped in a metastable state where the publishing industry insists that men don't want romance, and male readers have been conditioned to believe there isn't any romance worth reading. Now, comes along comes a wholesome little love story about two emotionally constipated school-age British wizards, and suddenly the entire field collapses into a new, lower-energy vacuum state.
The resulting energy release is absolutely catastrophic. Instead of gamma radiation annihilating the universe, we're getting seventeen metric gigatons of YEARNING.
Turns out men didn't hate romance.
They just wanted something worth falling in love with.
Professional vibe enjoyer retweeted
The Bible is full of stories where God restores what people thought was lost, rebuilds what was broken, and gives purpose to what seems wasted. Never let a painful chapter convince you the story is over. God can still turn your situation around. He is not done writing your story.
Professional vibe enjoyer retweeted
Any romance story between Harry and Malfoid that cannot overcome Sectumsempra, that cannot overcome the point at which Harry sees her as an enemy, is not a romance story worth aspiring to.
You're conflating and purposely miscommunicating elements of traditional story telling with Deconstruction.
You even use nonsense word pairings "Deconstruction of Idealism" as if Dragging things to the mundane (Literally what deconstruction is) is reflective of any sort of Ideal.
Deconstruction is when elements of the real world intrude to bring down the suppositions and expectations of a story into a modern sensibility... it is when, after a happily ever after, someone introduces complications to the lives that are mired in the modern age worries and apprehensions, in order to proximate it to their audience rather than allow the story to elevate the urges and expectations of the audience.
Pain, suffering and overcoming difficulty in a relationship... is a VIRTUOUS CYCLE, that when integrated into a story, teach the audience that these things need not be the end... and they need not be mired within them, that they can overcome such things and become stronger, better and more virtuous through that effort and difficulty.
Classic Romance was *NEVER* about a perfect, ideal arc where no trials or tribulations were overcome; that is you twisting the original meaning of such stories to fit your narrative to justify the ugly portions of story darkness being removed.
Professional vibe enjoyer retweeted
Despite it all, remember that Samwise Gamgee still carried Frodo all the way to mount doom instead of giving up knowing a journey back was not possible
Much like sensitive young men still believing in romance despite knowing it's dead. Much to learn
Professional vibe enjoyer retweeted
Her hands were shaking… so was the core of her. Tenderly she held the porcelain of the sink in both hands, leaning her weight on it as she focused on breathing. She could hear her heart in her head.
Her eyes found her reflection in the mirror, the face of a pretty blond girl with cold, judgmental eyes… the face that looked back was a frightened girl.
A weak girl.
“You will do what we ask… or your parents will be the price you pay, Draconia.”
She closed her eyes, hands coming up as she pursed her lips, breathing carefully, finding purchase against her ears as she shook her head, strands of wet blond hair bobbing as she did.
The restroom was quiet this time of the night. The voice had come from her memory; cold, sleek and without pity. His voice.
She put her hands on either side of the sink again, bracing against it as if it were her anchor. She looked again at her reflection in the mirror, trying to fix her face so that the fear wasn’t on it.
She was a Malfoy, she shouldn’t be afraid. The old man had opened up the Wizarding world to subversives… commoners. It threatened everything. Its what her Father always said, by diluting magic, you diminished the world. That’s what the Dark Lord would fix.
That’s what he’d said.
So why couldn’t she believe him now?
“Come on… you coward.” She muttered under her breath, angry at the girl in the mirror. Angry at her weakness, her lack of resolve. “Time to grow up.”
She heard the tremble in the sound of her voice, and clumsily grasped one of the faucet knobs, turning until she heard the water run. She cupped her hands and let the water pool before she splashed her face for the third time that night.
When was the last time she’d slept? It had gotten difficult counting the hours. She felt spread thin, her body ached.
There was no time, between her own secret meetings mandated by Him, managing Inquisitorial duties and her own classes, along with trying to figure out what Harry had been up to in the Room of Requirement…
Harry.
Her chin dripped as she felt her shoulders sag, suddenly the weight of sleepness nights pressing in around her. She saw his face in the mirror, and recalled the complicated nature of their relationship.
Her chest hurt from summoning up the image through the keyhole of Cho and him… kissing. She let out a growl that turned into a scream, then her eyes were burning as the tears began and wouldn’t cease.
She’d thought it had meant something to him. Their dance, the talk on the balcony. Thought that they were something, before it all went to hell.
Before He returned. Before her father went to prison… before Sirius black died. She had thought there was something there before the Tri-Wizard Tournament, something between them beyond bickering, snide comments and mutual disdain.
She tried to close her eyes but the sobbing continued as she imagined the scent of painted pinewood on a train, candy wrappers on the floor and her hand held out in an offer of friendship. His look then tore through her. Is that what you think of me?
It had rankled her, every moment he would look at her as if she were some lowborn slag. After her witty repartee or incisive notation of situational ridiculousness.
It had gotten to a point she’d do it on purpose just to… see that look. The look nobody else gave her out of fear of her status.
She felt real when he looked at her like that. It was twisted, she knew… she wasn’t some silly girl. She knew he’d disliked her. But there were… moments. Alone, between them, when he’d looked at her a different way.
When she’d been her better self. When she might have perhaps deserved reconsideration.
Through blurry vision, she looked out and again at the image in the mirror. Did she deserve it now? No… not after all she’d done. She could see him standing there-
“Malfoy,” suddenly rang out, filling the actual space of the restroom. Every nerve of hers fired.
That wasn’t her imagining it.
His voice was angry. She’d heard him angry often enough to know, but there was an edge to it she was unfamiliar with… something different this time.
“I know what you did, Malfoy. You hexed her, didn’t you?” He held his wand in his hands, his jaw set in a determined fashion.
She spun suddenly, eyes still wet as her crying had stopped suddenly on his appearance.
His face wore disgust… no, this was worse. He looked both hurt and disgusted with her. She felt the floor dropping out from her stomach, felt like she was falling as all the mean, rotten, dirty things she’d done over the years all piled on top.
Those eyes reminded her of how he saw her. Maybe how she deserved to be seen. She raised her wand and flicked her wrist, Harry dodged out of the way as a lamp exploded.
She couldn’t bear those eyes, or the thought she deserved them.
Suddenly he was back, ducking low as she cast a deflecting blow, parrying his Levicorpus spell as she dove next to the stalls.
“STOP! STOP FIGHTING!” Myrtle called out as she materialized out of the stall, “You’ll hurt each other!”
Draconia ignored the ghost as she scrambled, Harry’s spell blowing one of the stall doors off as she crawled back into the open tiled area near the sinks. She pulled herself up and moved to the side as another flick of his wrist caused one of the sinks to shatter and water to begin spraying everywhere.
She found her footing, facing him and those eyes. He held his wand pointed at her, she at him…
She recalled his eyes at the Yule ball and seeing warmth and kindness there she hadn't expected.
He had held her so delicately, as if he was afraid she’d break. She, Draconia Malfoy.
The tears came again as everything blurred.
She saw him through the distortion relax, lower his wand and step forward, “Malfoy… please, let me help you,”
Help her? Help her what? Kill the headmaster? Help her murder her parents for failing? She wished there was another way, another path through this byzantine maze He had put her in.
Another moment where she could see that kindness in his eyes.
He was almost close enough to reach out and touch. She’d reach for him, maybe- maybe this time…
No. She couldn’t let him do this, not after the mark, not after what she’d done. He was always trying to be so helpful.
“STAY AWAY!” She slapped his hand away, bringing her own to bear, “CRUCI-" She paused, her wand shaking as it pointed at him. She knew her heart wasn’t in it.
Aunt Bellatrix had said she’d need to really mean it… and she couldn’t. Not against Harry.
The next words echoed in her ears as he yelled,
“SECTUM SEMPRA!” and for a moment the world seemed to bleed of all color, fading to a slow sepia as she felt criss cross tingles of magic alighting in vertical and horizontal lines all across her body… and then she felt the force of the spell land and send her through the air, crashing into the mirror she’d been staring at for the better part of an hour, shattering it on impact.
Her head was reeling as she was on the floor, her senses wrung out like a wash towel as the ceiling was spinning. She brought her arm up and looked, seeing bloody gashes welling with red rivulets down her arm. She let it fall to the wet bathroom tile with a splash.
“H..arry…” she choked out, feeling the weight of all her mistakes weighing on her, dragging her down into a cold darkness somewhere. “you...hate me this much…”
“DRACONIA!” She felt something pulling at her, a warmth against her wet clothes.
She tried to smile, a smile she really meant, rasping out “...don’t be so sad…”
It’s what she had deserved for all the years of pain and torment. For his parents… for Sirius, for the Hex and all the rest.
Soon, there’d be no more Draconia to worry over. And wouldn’t that be best?
#Malfoid
#HarryPotter
Professional vibe enjoyer retweeted
Lucius: Vernon, you verminous fat bastard!
Vernon: Lucius, you snake-faced ferret bastard!
Lucius: HAHAHAHAHA! Still hating everyone today, I see!
Vernon: Of course! Can't trust anyone these days, especially those damn idiots who think they're better than us!
Lucius: Hear, hear! Finally, a man with some sense!
Vernon: That's why you're my best mate, Lucius! Two respectable gentlemen surrounded by absolute degenerates!
Lucius: Precisely! Now, tell me, Vernon, how's the wife?
Vernon: Wonderful! Still complaining about my drinking, though.
Lucius: Women, eh? Always something to complain about!
Vernon: HAHAHAHA! Exactly! And how's your wife?
Lucius: Narcissa? Perfectly lovely. She only threatens to hex me when I deserve it.
Vernon: HAHAHAHA! A woman who knows her place!
Lucius: Indeed! Speaking of which, have you heard about that Potter boy?
Vernon: Don't remind me! That little freak has caused me nothing but trouble!
Lucius: HA! And he's been nothing but trouble for my family as well!
Vernon: Finally, something we agree on!
Lucius: Vernon, my friend, I propose a toast!
Vernon: To what?
Lucius: To good drinks, good company, traditional values, and keeping idiots out of our business!
Vernon: NOW THAT'S WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT!
They clink their glasses together.
Lucius: To us, you fat bastard.
Vernon: To us, you ugly ferret.
Lucius and Vernon: HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
Two miserable old bastards, united by their shared arrogance, mutual prejudices, and the absolute certainty that they are the only sensible men left in Britain.
Vernon: those damn muggles are ruining everything. can't build anything properly, can't dress properly, can't even raise their children properly.
Lucius: fascinating. you have just described yourself, vernon.
Vernon: shut up, lucius. i'm talking about the other muggles.
Lucius: ah, yes. the other muggles. naturally, you are the exception.
Vernon: exactly! finally, someone with a functioning brain.
Lucius: splendid. i despise them too.
Vernon: knew i liked you, lucius. you're a man of culture.
Lucius: and you, vernon, are a man of remarkably selective self-awareness.
Vernon: what does that mean?
Lucius: nothing. i wouldn't want to strain your muggle brain.
Vernon: HA! now that's the sort of joke i like!
Lucius: and i suppose you hate wizards as well?
Vernon: absolutely disgusting creatures.
Lucius: vernon, my dear friend, i am a wizard.
Vernon: ...
Lucius: ...
Vernon: well, you're one of the good ones.
Lucius: YOU ABSOLUTE HYPOCRITE.
Vernon: LOOK WHO'S TALKING, YOU FERRET-HEADED BASTARD!
Lucius: at least my ferrets have better manners than your entire family!
Vernon: your hair looks like it was styled by a dying swan!
Lucius: and your moustache looks like a caterpillar died on your upper lip!
Vernon: ...
Lucius: ...
Vernon: same time next week?
Lucius: naturally. i'll bring the wine.
Vernon: i'll bring the biscuits.
Lucius: excellent. we can spend another evening hating everyone except ourselves.
Vernon: NOW THAT'S WHAT I CALL FRIENDSHIP!
Professional vibe enjoyer retweeted
Here are my own thoughts on this matter, since I've posted it in pieces elsewhere:
Harry doesn't get to make mistakes very often. Sure, he wrongly accuses Snape in the first book, because Snape is a dick. He blames Malfoy for the events of the second, for similar reasons. But it all works out in the end, because dead ends are just part of the mystery.
Maybe that's just the nature of being the titular hero, or of the type of story that JK wrote early on, but he's never really punished for leaping before he looks. Everything is just brushed aside with a light detention at worst, and another 50 points to Gryffindor if he managed to save the school this year.
Sectum Sempra is his first real fuck-up with consequences. For whatever reason, Harry never thought to take his textbook out behind Hagrid's hut and fire off a few test spells. He just reached straight for the killing curse, not realizing that it was on the level of Avada Kedavra. It's the equivalent of a teenaged boy finding a loaded gun and using it to play laser tag because he'd only ever seen Cowboys and Indians fall over after being shot. 𝑂ℎ 𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑡 doesn't begin to cover it.
So we rewrite it, yeah? Easy enough, we're already rewriting everything from Goblet of Fire onward to fit Malfoid neatly into the narrative. We can have our story as fluffy and romantical as we want, and nobody can say otherwise.
It's fine.
Just 2 things.
Number 1, you're removing the deepest plunge of the roller coaster. You've been to the summit, at the Yule Ball, and during whatever romantic shenanigans you want to come up with during the following ~4-6 months leading up to the graveyard and Cedric's death. But a proper enemy/rivals-to-lovers story needs a plunge. You can't just started at the bottom in their first year and work your way up, that's -- forgive me -- dreadfully boring. That's a checklist, not a story. Dracaena deserves better, which means she deserves her own character growth. The Sectum Sempara scene gives it to the both of them, and gives them a good point to rebuild from before the end of the story so that it's not just a rushed mess in the final 2 chapters.
Number 2, and nearly just as important; you're not just changing that one scene. You'd also be changing the context of a later scene, after Dumbledore falls, and Harry again attempts to use the curse on Snape. Canonically this is his second time attempting it, and now he knows exactly what it does. Harry is ready to 𝑒𝑣𝑖𝑠𝑐𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑒 a Hogwarts teacher for what he sees as the ultimate betrayal, and for the first time in his life he's shooting with the intent to kill.
There's nothing wrong with wanting a more light-hearted approach to the story. The "Lumos/Lumos" animation I reposted earlier is a wonderful example of this. But if you do remove it from the bathroom scene, just be aware that you're changing far more than a simple lover's quarrel in the girl's toilets. You're taking away a very strong point of agency and growth from two characters that could really use a kick in the teeth to get them back on the right track.
Professional vibe enjoyer retweeted
noelle probably hates halloween
#deltarune #animation
Professional vibe enjoyer retweeted
I saw someone essentially say that pornographic/lewd Malfoid fanart is good because sex is the point of romance. THIS, I fear, is another example of the way pornography has damaged people. 🧵
That idea misses the entire point of the Malfoid trend at large. To be fair, Malfoid has gotten so big it broke containment and now means a lot of different things to a lot of different people. That being said, I think the vast majority of those who enjoy this trend agree that Malfoid isn’t about sex, it’s about yearning.
To yearn for something, to long for it, is to deeply and often melancholically desire it. That sense of melancholy often stems from the understanding that whatever the object of your desire is will be difficult to obtain. Men are yearning for Malfoid because finding a woman like her is incredibly difficult, but she’s worth it. People are writing stories, making art, and changing themselves for the better in an effort to even get close to the feeling of achievement - to get close to her.
Making pornographic art in this movement cheapens all of this. The object of desire becomes not the woman, but her body. The way to express this desire becomes not hard work and effort, but masturbation. Looking at images on a screen and allowing yourself to be titillated will poison your soul against improvement, and you will seek to get your jollies off however you can rather than by becoming the kind of man worthy of a Malfoid, or the kind of woman worthy of a Harry.
Certainly, it is true that Harry and Malfoid are sexually attracted to each other. It’s also true that the vast swaths of wonderful illustrators in this movement depict Malfoid as sexually attractive. But Malfoid being sexually attractive doesn’t innately reduce her to the point of objectification.
Beauty exists, and Malfoid is beautiful. This aspect of her character is a virtue - it’s something that men often find lacking in modern women. To be fair, it’s also a quality that women find lacking in modern men, so there’s blame to go around. But that’s why people have started going to the gym over this trend, in pursuit of beauty.
Beauty may also easily be corrupted. Because beauty is a virtue, it goes hand in hand with other virtues - love, self-control, modesty, etc. - and if any of these other virtues are lacking in a person, so too does their beauty. Portraying Malfoid as a loose woman, exposing herself and engaging in all kinds of indecency, makes her less beautiful. It may make her “hot” or otherwise “sexy”, but this is a pornographic debasing of her. Those depictions are not worth your desire.
Malfoid is modest, in both dress and in mannerism; of course she is, as the heiress to the Malfoy name. And the people who get the trend don’t portray her as a ditz or an airhead, but as a confident, even prideful woman (it’s worth noting that such depictions have her putting down her supremacist pride in her bloodline and accepting her love for Harry, humbling herself, which is a virtue).
Keep Malfoid modest. Yearn for something greater.
Professional vibe enjoyer retweeted
I told you what things are. Definitionally. You have a problem with definitions as apparently many are accounting to me now...
You think yourself an expert in Chivalric retellings, but deny redemptive arcs specifically because in this particular instance it's lovers physically hurting one another in a mutual misunderstanding and you find that appalling.
You insist upon that it must not be in the story, because the story cannot resolve properly, and that people who feel it makes the story better are perverse despite the thousands of years of storytelling where terrible, horrifying and traumatic things happen to all the heroes... and it is their obstacle and duty to overcome those terrible things.
You miss the point when someone mentions Hercules trials due to the Orphic origins of his penance, when Penance is the bread and butter of storytelling.
Heroes with untarnished armor have never taken a blow, and never made a hard choice. It is in the choices presented to the characters that their VIRTUE is demonstrated, and it is the path of the pursuit of their own redemption that the personal arc of completion is fulfilled.
In a love story, worthiness is not simply an element of the divine, but in how we treat the pains and sufferings of the other. In order for their love to be true, they must overcome something unforgiveable to them both that is INTIMATE to the both of them... because it puts to question and doubt their WORTHINESS to love and be loved.
It is in the proving that they must overcome the irreperable mistake that they introduced into their relationship that sent them spiraling in different directions, and it is in that culmination and fulfillment that their love is shown as true, as having survived the worst of each of them; their own personal failings and hubris.
This journey can be removed and redacted, but it removes something greater than the parts it contains and it diminishes the story by removing something that gives the reader themselves pause as to whether it SHOULD be forgiven.
That impulse? That's intentional. It is storytelling tension writ large and underscored. You can omit it, and the story can still work, but it is LESSER for it.
Because the impact of redemption for the act is lessened.
That you don't seem to understand this and instead seek to attack people who *DO* understand it is why I question your faith. It is not mine to decide what you are, but as I said, I won't stand by while you wholesale INSULT half the people in the Malfoid tag for having a preference for real redemptive storytelling with actual hard stakes that unsettle the audience.
#Malfoid
#HarryPotter
Oh dear. I absolute am not doing that, and I made it perfectly clear that if I see a post that I don't like, I will take Chaucer's advice and turn the leaf.
YOU, however, have come into my space and told me how it is that I ought to think and what I ought say, and I am simply telling you that I will not do that.
You will not change my mind on the matter, and attacks on me based on my faith are not something that I will bite. You've done that multiple times now, and are perfectly content to stand from the precipice of the Temple Mount to shout your denouncements at me. You simply don't enjoy it when the mirror is turned back on you.
Once again, I will point out that this entire conversation began because you responded to a post that I made, and made the utter asinine assertion that the removal of Harry using the Lashing curse against Malfoid "removes all trial and tribulation between the two."
If you still hold to that very, then not only is your view exceedingly shallow, it also suggest something of a gore-fetish to believe that such a thing is absolutely required for a relationship between 16 year olds.
If you can't grasp that, then I'm sorry, but there is nothing more than I can do but dust my shoes off and wash my hands of you.
