25 Days- Day 2
Dec. 2nd, 2018 10:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
smirkingcatTitle:
Author:smirkingcat
Word Count: 564
Rating: PG
Prompt:
Warning: alternating POV, no beta
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Notes:i kinda sorta may have a plan, but honestly who knows... my mind is so sleep deprived it is not for certain
start with part one, chapter one here: : @dw | @lj
Draco is amazed at the difference a few hours make. Last night when the sleigh carried Harry and him through the grounds, and the Manor was covered in soft light- it all had been such a tranquillising atmosphere. He will even admit that there was a soft spark in the air as well, but he simply cannot act on it, can’t allow Harry to act on it. Things are not like they have been in the past, like this snowy landscape now in the light of the day looks harsh and brutal without any softness around its edges.
And unlike in Ireland here there is no wild magic to play games with him. All the wild magic here is bound towards the wards, keeping the estate save and hidden.
Abandonment.
It is what is happening to the estate. There is the magic which tries to repair and to help, but nobody here to notice, to coax it into doing so.
He takes a deep breath of the cold air and lets his eyes rake over the grand house and the lands as far as he can see them.
Once he had been happy here. He had called this place his home, his safe heaven. He had loved coming home... had loved his parents. But then everything changed and now he would like to burn it all to the ground as much as he would like to curse his own father. But he can’t. Being a reader he has seen the truth. Truth is that he is a weak wizard, he will never match his father in magical power.
He knows it doesn’t mean that he is weak overall, given the right source he could be the most powerful of them all – and that was the problem. Harry could be such a source.
He still feels the tingle of magic as he controlled the all the magic of Harry with his own. So, yes the first time Harry had to help him, but if they do this more often- and with Harry’s ability to carry so, so much magic in him besides his own. It would by akin as to dangling a glass of water in front of someone dying of thirst. He will never be able to resist, and given enough time he will wear Harry down.
He wants to trust Mereille because otherwise there is nobody left, but he simply can’t believe that he truly should be here. His family as well as he himself always were power hungry and it got his family and him in all kinds of troubles... and fighting temptation his whole life? The mere thought of it is exhausting.
He turns around and apparatus away to the small town up north where as a child he was allowed to roam free while his parents did their business. He remembers that there by the bridge used to be a small stall selling roasted chestnuts. And though he most likely could have bought the whole stall there had always been a small bunch of children thronging there money together to buy one paper cone filled with the roasted nuts. Since he never was allowed to eat roasted chestnuts, he always made sure to chip in and snack at least three nuts before he had to go again.
He has little hope now but maybe the stall would still be there.
Author:
smirkingcatWord Count: 564
Rating: PG
Prompt:
Warning: alternating POV, no beta
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Notes:i kinda sorta may have a plan, but honestly who knows... my mind is so sleep deprived it is not for certain
start with part one, chapter one here: : @dw | @lj
Draco is amazed at the difference a few hours make. Last night when the sleigh carried Harry and him through the grounds, and the Manor was covered in soft light- it all had been such a tranquillising atmosphere. He will even admit that there was a soft spark in the air as well, but he simply cannot act on it, can’t allow Harry to act on it. Things are not like they have been in the past, like this snowy landscape now in the light of the day looks harsh and brutal without any softness around its edges.
And unlike in Ireland here there is no wild magic to play games with him. All the wild magic here is bound towards the wards, keeping the estate save and hidden.
Abandonment.
It is what is happening to the estate. There is the magic which tries to repair and to help, but nobody here to notice, to coax it into doing so.
He takes a deep breath of the cold air and lets his eyes rake over the grand house and the lands as far as he can see them.
Once he had been happy here. He had called this place his home, his safe heaven. He had loved coming home... had loved his parents. But then everything changed and now he would like to burn it all to the ground as much as he would like to curse his own father. But he can’t. Being a reader he has seen the truth. Truth is that he is a weak wizard, he will never match his father in magical power.
He knows it doesn’t mean that he is weak overall, given the right source he could be the most powerful of them all – and that was the problem. Harry could be such a source.
He still feels the tingle of magic as he controlled the all the magic of Harry with his own. So, yes the first time Harry had to help him, but if they do this more often- and with Harry’s ability to carry so, so much magic in him besides his own. It would by akin as to dangling a glass of water in front of someone dying of thirst. He will never be able to resist, and given enough time he will wear Harry down.
He wants to trust Mereille because otherwise there is nobody left, but he simply can’t believe that he truly should be here. His family as well as he himself always were power hungry and it got his family and him in all kinds of troubles... and fighting temptation his whole life? The mere thought of it is exhausting.
He turns around and apparatus away to the small town up north where as a child he was allowed to roam free while his parents did their business. He remembers that there by the bridge used to be a small stall selling roasted chestnuts. And though he most likely could have bought the whole stall there had always been a small bunch of children thronging there money together to buy one paper cone filled with the roasted nuts. Since he never was allowed to eat roasted chestnuts, he always made sure to chip in and snack at least three nuts before he had to go again.
He has little hope now but maybe the stall would still be there.
