Olivia
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Victor
@VictorQ70537
UGA ‘24
Joined February 2017
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What are the actual odds that, in the same month we have the Malfoid movement, scientists just so happen to discover:
1. A heart shaped nebula in Cassiopeia (M-shaped constellation near Draco), &
2. The first ever instance of a green star in the universe in Draco itself??
Georgia and Alabama going from the 2 best teams in the country to 2 cheeks from the same butt
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🌀 Rear cooling fan sticking out of the bodywork!
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📱 Ditches central touchscreen displays for a minimalist, retractable MagSafe phone mount setup!
Can the Mission S really rival the legendary Carrera GT and 918 as the best Porsche ever? 🏎️👑
From one race weekend to the next. Malaysia to Singapore on two wheels 🤯
I think this is a is a mass yearning for a normal high school social experience collectively missed out on.
Now that I've dabbled in this trend a bit, and played around with what's possible, I'm going to put on my *other* Serious Professional Author Hat, and explain why you like her so much.
Draecena, or Draconia, or Drakenia, Malfoy — the "Mal-foid" — is NOT a gender-swapped version of Draco Malfoy. That's why her eyes are green and not grey.
She's a completely different character.
She fits into the socket that Draco fills in the story, but for an author, characters are defined by their wants. Because their wants determine their choices, and their actions, and these determine the ultimate outcome of the story.
Draecina is a different person from Draco, because she wants different things.
Draco, as written, is a simple creature, created for a simple utilitarian role in the story. He wants power and attention. He wants to advance his family's political agenda. He wants to defeat Potter. Rowling may have put a little spin on the ball in the later books, but he never strays too far from this.
Draecina is completely different. She not only wants more things, she wants conflicting things, and she is torn between them.
She is split between duty, love, and pride.
She wants to advance her family's cause and political agenda, to help them, to earn their love and make them proud. And for this, like Draco, she must defeat Harry Potter and everything he represents.
But she is also a teenage girl. And she wants to kiss the most popular boy in the school. The hero, the sports star, the celebrity.
No, she takes that back, she doesn't just want to kiss him. She wants him to kiss her. And more fundamentally, she wants him to yearn for her, as she yearns for him. Look at me, Harry Potter, her soul cries. See me. Do you think I'm beautiful? Please think I'm beautiful. Please want me.
But she cannot say a word of this. Because she also has pride. She cannot, she will not face the humiliation of anyone else knowing how she worships her mortal enemy. No one must ever see the stolen scarf she presses to her face, in the darkness of her bedroom.
But if she is to say nothing, how will he ever know? How will he ever look at her?
This is the rack she is stretched upon, torturing herself inside her head late at night, tossing and turning when she should sleep.
Conflicting wants make the best, deepest, most living characters, and drive the best stories.
Through the alternate set of books (that exist now only as a shared idea in scattered heads) these drive her actions towards Potter himself... not simply opposition and aggression, but a dance of approach and avoidance, of fights and arguments and timid, plausibly deniable bids for something more.
Until, as in the originals, the two are driven to crisis point, a violent confrontation, each desperate not to hurt the other, but also driven to violence by the fear that this other holds no goal but lethal hate.
And Harry, seeking only to defend himself, strikes her down with a magic that does not merely disable but *cuts* with lethal force, tearing into her body, almost killing her, and leaving her with a terrible scar across the smooth, soft, perfect white skin that his eyes used to devour the merest glimpse of.
This is the worst point, the pit, the long dark night of the soul that every author must eventually walk a character into.
Draecina curses herself for a fool. None of it meant anything. He never cared for her. He hates her with every fiber of his being, and why would he feel otherwise? But try as she might, she cannot actually blame him. He overheard her plotting his death. They fought. Is it any wonder that he struck at her with whatever weapon he had to hand? She cannot stop loving him, even though she knows now that it is utterly hopeless.
In her hospital bed, left unable by her injuries even to toss and turn, she stares at the ceiling and weeps in despair.
Harry feels... sick. He fought for the right cause, he knows that. But this doesn't feel like goodness, and it doesn't feel like winning. It feels wrong, like he has destroyed something beautiful. He has left her with terrible scars, and terrible memories, that she will carry for the rest of her life.
More than anything he wants to go to her, to kneel beside her hospital bed and beg her forgiveness. But that is foolish. She hates him. He is the last person she would ever want to see, and she would never, ever forgive him. It's hopeless.
This is the greatest task of the author, to create this terrible moment, and then, somehow, perform some magic to walk these characters to the ending the story demands, where the day, the hero, and the world are all saved by the very thing that started the story to begin with... the love of a woman who would give her life to save his.
Except this time, that love is not an inheritance, for Harry is no longer a child. He is a man now, facing a dark and terrible enemy, and that love is not simply given, nor can it even be earned.
It must be inspired.
And the two lovers must defeat their enemy together... not through a cheap magic trick, nor through a vague and sappy appeal to ill-explained abstraction like "the power of love", but for the very real and concrete reason that heroes have friends and allies, families and lovers, while tyrants have only reluctant and fearful slaves.
And from that first inflection point, the pit of despair, it is difficult to see the second, the moment of triumph.
In all the best stories, the ones that really matter, there is a moment so dark that sometimes we don't want to go on, because how could the ending ever be happy?
But we must go on, because that is the third moment the story demands, the moment we must reach. And it is not Harry, but Draecina, who must give it to us, that happy ending.
Look at me, Harry Potter, she must say. Look at my scars. I will not hide them from you, not anymore, though they make you flinch with guilt and turn away. Look at me. I forgive you, my love, not merely because I love you, but I because I understand in my very soul the impossible trap you were caught in, the conflicting forces that tore you apart inside.
But you must look at me, all of me, and see me as I am, flawed and scarred and imperfect, for I must know if I am still beautiful in your eyes, if you can accept my love and forgiveness as I have accepted yours.
We must bury the anger and bitterness that passed between, and pass on only good to the next generation. Because I have just learned that the next generation is coming very soon now, and I hope we are ready.
It takes a wise character to say this, so she must grow throughout the story from a scared and lonely little girl to a woman who can face the future, even though she is afraid.
This is why you love this character. Because she makes a beloved story into something that is even more about the things that matter, the universal experience of what it feels like to be a human.
And it's why I'm not ashamed, nor embarrassed, to "fix" a billion-dollar success story. Because humans are a pack animal. We hunt together, and build on each other's work. Everything we have achieved as a species, from great stories to great civilizations to rockets to the stars, was built on foundations laid down by others, and will be the foundation for others to build on.
Frodo carries the ring across Middle-Earth, through Mordor, and halfway up the mountain.
And then it's your turn to carry him the rest of the way.
i knew inters were the right tyre when i saw mclaren and ferrari weren’t on them
Draceana frowned. “Distracted by something, Potter?”
“Yes, the way you styled your hair.” His voice dripped with sarcasm.
She scoffed. “Like you would notice such things. Now, follow me three steps to your right.”
He followed her instructions, and saw that Dumbledore was waltzing with Madame Maxine, so dwarfed by her that the top of his pointed hat barely tickled her chin. Despite that, she moved with a grace unbecoming of a woman so large, even more than Fleur, who is in the middle of a waltz with a slack jawed Roger.
Draceana swayed with him. “Do you think Hagrid is jealous?”
Harry looked back at her. “Of Dumbledore?”
“He is dancing with who he fancies, after all.”
“I hardly think he could ever think such things of the headmaster.”
“You would be surprised at what infatuation does to people.”
“Speaking from experience?”
Draceana clicked her teeth and looked away.
“Just an observation, is all. Take two steps back.”
The movement brought him near Mad-Eye Moody, who was in the middle of an ungainly two-step with Professor Sinistra. She was doing everything she could to avoid his wooden leg, but somehow keeping the semblance of a dance going.
“Nice socks, Potter.” Moody’s voice was a growl as he passed, his magical eye focused on Harry’s legs through his robes.
“Oh - yeah, Dobby knitted them for me.” Harry flashed a grin at that.
Draceana’s grip tightened over his hand. “How is the house-elf?”
Harry looked at her, confused, but her tone was too soft to feel biting. “He… is alright, working in the kitchens. He frequents Gryffindor quite a bit.”
“I see… even with freedom he chooses to be a servant, does he?”
“For a galleon a week, and one day off each month.”
“That’s hardly that much.”
“It’s better than whatever your family gave him.” A harsh venom had creeped into Harry’s tone.
“...I suppose so.”
The admission left him speechless.
“One step to the left.”
He followed her next few steps in silence, unsure of what to think anymore. Once the final, quavering note from the bagpipe sounded, his chest fell in relief. Applause for The Weird Sisters filled the Hall, and Harry moved to leave the dance floor.
Draceana’s grip on his hand remained. “The dance isn’t over.”
He could hear the first few notes of the next song start to play, something energetic, spry. At the edge of the dance floor, he could see Ron and Padma sitting. His friend was glaring at Hermione and Krum, who had started a new stance. His partner had her arms and legs crossed, one foot jiggling to the music.
He looked back at Draceana. “Let’s sit-”
“Let me tell you what is going to happen” She nodded between Hermione and Ron. “That muggle girl is going to approach Weasley after having a nice dance with Krum. She is going to be all smiles, but he will be lashing out, no doubt talking about some nonsense rather than what he really feels. There will be a toss up, and it is going to be extremely awkward. You could sit front row to that, which I admit has a certain amusing appeal to it, or you could suffer another dance with me.” She still held onto his hand.
He looked at her, then at Ron. He could feel the anger radiating off of his friend. They’d just returned to speaking terms, and there was a high chance that anything he said to calm him could break that. He wasn’t even sure if his presence would help, either. Yet, to dance with Draceana… why was he even considering that option at all?
“Time’s up, Potter.”
She tugged him deeper into the dance floor with a grip that was surprisingly strong.
“What are you-”
She placed his other hand on her waist again and started to move. So fast was she that he had no choice but to follow her.
Draceana giggled. “Oh? You certainly fell into step quickly.”
“I would trip otherwise!”
“Perhaps you would, but I am a very good leader.”
Despite his irritation, he knew that to be true. They weaved and danced across the floor completely to her rhythm, and so focused was he on his feet that he had no time to object. She giggled the entire time, the sound different now. It was lighter, softer, and had he not known who it was coming from, Harry might have guessed it was someone else entirely. In the face of everything, he felt his own smile start to form.
Then he saw Cedric and Cho.
They danced close together, their eyes closed and completely lost in the music, in their own little world, with no room for him to ever be by her side. Helplessness crept into his chest, and he felt his jaw start to clench.
“...does it hurt, Potter, to see the one you adore infatuated with someone else? I could give you a solution.” Draceana’s voice was barely above a whisper.
“What?” Harry couldn’t pull his eyes away from them.
“Look at me.”
“What are you-”
“Look. At. Me.” Her hand, firm yet gentle like her tone, pressed against his cheek and turned it towards her.
He didn’t know what he expected. Anger at being ignored? Amusement at his suffering? What he would have never guessed was the look she held in that moment. It was completely serious, without the edge of her pride, the mockery that always sat behind her eyes, and those remained absent in the small smile that followed.
“There, now you’re not looking at her, are you?”
For what may have been only a second, Harry’s heart stopped for an eternity. Words formed behind his lips, but crumbled even quicker, he could feel the warmth of her hands more than ever before, and the face that looked up at him continue to rob him of all thought. The music stopped for just a moment to let those who were tired leave the dance floor, but he stayed, unable to move a muscle.
The music started again, and they began to dance.
She still guided him, their movements smoother through this song than the others. Maybe it was just because it was slower, something for swaying rather than stepping, but his hand never left hers, just as his words refused to leave his tongue.
Draceana smirked up at him. “What’s this? You’ve become mightily obedient, Potter.”
“I…”
“Do you see how easy it is when you just listen to me? You could consider this a lesson.”
The teasing edge to her voice brought attention creeping back. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Hermione and Ron in an argument at the edge of the dance floor, with Padma nowhere to be seen. He felt the need to intervene, but from the expressions that they had on their faces, he knew deep down it wouldn’t make any difference. He should dance inst… was he really thinking of that now?
Draceana pressed her lips into a pout. “Well, it’s no fun if you’re going to be a plank of wood.”
He looked down at her, a spike of irritation finding him as he saw the triumphant and smug air return to her eyes. Even with that, he had to admit that this dance floor was her domain, and that there was no way to get one over on her while they remained.
So he chose to take her from it.
His hand wrapped around her wrist and he began to walk towards the entrance hall.
“P-Potter? What are you doing?”
He ignored her words for the moment and continued on his way. Out of the corner of his vision, he saw Hermione storm away from Ron, only for Krum to show up behind him a moment later. Dumbledore was dancing with Professor Sprout, Ludo Bagman was in the middle of speaking with Fred and George, the three laughing before parting ways, only for Percy to greet Bagman afterways, wringing his hands with a sheepish look on his face. Karkaroff was nowhere to be seen, and perhaps in another time that would have been important to Harry, along with all the other dynamics he glanced over, but in this moment, none of that really mattered. If Draceana was going to play games with him, then he would do the same to her.
Her protests continued in whispers that only he could hear, but he ignored them as they made their way through the entrance hall and out of the front door. Despite her words, Draceana never pulled at her hand and continued to follow him. The fluttering fairy lights in the rose garden continued to wink and twinkle during their descent down the front steps, and soon they found themselves surrounded by bushes that wrapped around in winding, ornamental paths, punctuated by stone statues.
The sound of splashing water trailed into Harry’s ears, perhaps from a distant fountain that he couldn’t see, but what he noticed was that there were still people around, sitting upon carved benches. He pulled Draceana along one of the winding paths, deeper and deeper into the maze in search of a spot with no one around. Her words had gone silent, but her wrist felt hotter for some reason. Eventually, he found another fountain, this one without anyone else nearby, and he guided her to right in front of the structure before spinning around, which nearly made her jump.
“S-so, what is it, Potter? Embarrassed at how bad you were at dancing?”
“No, I’m merely doing what you suggested.” He switched from holding her wrist to her hand and grabbed her waist.
That made her jump. “W-w-w-what?!”
“I’m looking at you.”
He moved, not in a sudden, jerking way to make her trip, but in the same way that she did to stop him from talking.
“P-Potter! T-this is u-unacceptable!”
“You are welcome to stop at any time.” He stepped back twice, and she followed. “But it looks like you can’t.”
“N-nonsense! T-this is pity! You’d look like a fool dancing by yourself like this!”
He smirked. “So why don’t you take control?” He swayed to the side. She stepped closer. “Or was it all the people around before that made you so smug? If only they could see your face now.”
Red had filled her cheeks, clear against pale skin illuminated by the moonlight. The color of anger… it was anger, right?
He moved faster to escape that thought.
“H-hold on Potter, you’re moving too fas-”
His feet tipped over each other as he stepped back. It wasn’t enough to make him fall, but he did stumble, Draceana still in his grip. He pulled her against his chest out of reflex, holding her tight until the world felt steady around him. He relaxed his arms when he did, a small flash of guilt coursing through him.
“Sorry, that wasn’t part of-” His words cut off when he looked down at her face.
It was an expression he’d never seen before, from anyone, let alone Draceana. A distant, yet close look beyond the eyes that met hers. It felt deeper, a connection that made them look at a part of each other neither one knew the other possessed. A trance came over him, but not one fueled magic. She started to move closer, and he didn’t back away.
“Harry?”
Draceana was the first to snap back to normal. She stepped away from him and looked away just as Cedric Diggory rounded the corner of a path. Cho was with him, but stayed behind as he approached Harry.
“What are you doing out here?”
Harry shook his head to bring back his senses. “Just getting some fresh air is all.”
“Ah, we’re of like minds there.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Draceana and Cho acknowledge each other with a nod.
“This is actually perfect.” Cedric pulled Harry off to the side and leaned in, keeping his voice low. “I owe you one for telling me about the dragons. You know the golden egg? Does yours wail when you open it?”
Harry rubbed his face and blinked.
“You alright?”
“Y-yeah, sorry this tournament is getting to me a bit, but yes, it does wail.”
“Well… take a bath, okay?”
“...what?”
“Take a bath and -er- take the egg with you, and -er- just mull things over in the hot water. It’ll help you think… Trust me.”
Harry stared at him.
“Tell you what.” Cedric wrapped his arm around his shoulder. “Use the prefects’ bathroom. Fourth door to the left of that stature of Boris the Bewildered on the fifth floor. Password’s ‘pine fresh.’ Gotta go…” He looked back at Cho and grinned. “Want to say good night.” He patted Harry on the back and hurried back to Cho.
Harry's eyes followed the two of them as they disappeared, his eyes fixed on where they left for a while. He eventually looked away, seeing Draceana near the fountain, looking away from him.
“Malfoy, I should-”
“He told you something related to the tournament, didn’t he?”
“Yes, he did.”
“Then you better hop to it, Potter.” She placed her hands on her hips. “I will not be having the champion who took me to the ball lose in the next match.”
He stared at her for a moment, the feeling in his chest settling when he was sure that the Draceana he always knew was back. “Do you need me to walk you back?”
“As if I need an escort. Go on.” She shooed him away. “I wish to take a moment here anyways.”
Harry moved towards the exit, but stopped just before Draceana was out of sight. “Malfoy.”
“What?”
“You… were right, it was better to stay with you tonight.”
She crossed her arms and held her head high. “Of course I was, now go.”
He shook his head with a small laugh, and left.
***
Draceana waited a good, long while after Harry left before moving. She drifted over to a nearby bench in a daze, the heat that she barely kept contained before burning her face a bright scarlet. She buried herself into her hands, head spinning at what had just occurred. Her heart beat so loudly that the sound of the fountain was lost under its drumming, and no matter how hard she tried to settle her breathing, it left her bated, the fog slipping through her fingers. She wanted to squeal, to shout, to do something to let all these feelings go, yet at the same time wished they would never leave.
She had seen it.
It was only for the briefest form of a second, a flash that was so quickly taken away by that blasted Cedric, but she knew that she was not hallucinating. So often had she seen that light in his eyes when he stared at Cho, at that Weasley girl, so often had she wondered what she could do to see that same radiance when he looked at her, and tonight, she had seen it. It may have only been a glimmer, one that lasted for less than a breath, but in that small moment, the light of Harry Potter’s eyes was hers.
And the smile on her face was the purest it had ever been.
2/2
Big shout out to @spookyh8r for inspiring me to write this, give his version a read too! And of course @hayes_gens for the art to spring off of.
This was a doozy, I know, but I hope all of you enjoyed!
bro even the weather channel is hyped
Bro I am witnessing methods of torture I didn’t know existed from the artists in the quotes
>whips Obsidian back to work
>whips Bethesda back to work
>kills Ninja Theory
>kills 343
>makes Mojang FINALLY add new things to Minecraft
I'm officially a Asha Sharma loyalist
The wave of hate art is genuinely the most fanart I've seen this character ever get in the 11+ years of it's existence
i Don’t feel so good
50 civil wars within 3 minutes
#NintendoSwitchOnline members! From Sept 24 at 10am PT to Sept 30 at 11:59pm PT, you can download and try the full Prince of Persia The Lost Crown game at no additional cost.
Learn more: https://t.co/XirfXXul1m
The fast and the... car which won Le Mans 🔥
@ToyotaRacingWEC are bringing their race-winning TR010 Hybrid home to Fuji, and you can see it in all its glory this weekend.
Quarter mile? We do six hours... 👀 Be there!
#WEC #6HFuji #Toyota
THE ATLANTA BRAVES ARE 2026 NL EAST CHAMPIONS!
#BravesCountry
After a decade of No Man's Sky, players have explored less than 1% of the planets. https://t.co/jym0WhEswX
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