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Chapter 1 (Part I)
Inspired by @Dariel_Lusi I also created another AI-assisted comic adaptation, which has slower pace, of "Draconia Malfoy and the Boy Who Said No", a fanfic by @nightowl_trades
https://t.co/nlHGqjrUlc
Please enjoy！
#Malfoid #HarryPotter #Malfoy
Chapter 1 (Part II)
Chapter 1 (Part IV)
Chapter 1 (Part III)
@miharuya 额，现在X上不是到处都有这样的同人
@tradaesthetic1 @Dariel_Lusi @nightowl_trades The images are generated together. I use Codex to manage this project, with novels and pictures as input.
Inspired by @Dariel_Lusi I also created another AI-assisted comic adaptation, which has slower pace, of "Draconia Malfoy and the Boy Who Said No", a fanfic by @nightowl_trades
https://t.co/nlHGqjrUlc
Please enjoy！
#Malfoid #HarryPotter #Malfoy
@Dariel_Lusi @nightowl_trades Just a small suggestion—rather than having continuous horizontal frames, it might look better to alternate between horizontal and vertical ones of different sizes. Also, considering the current page size, keeping it under four panels per page would really improve clarity
@ShamashAran Not exactly the same？Snape became spy after Lily died, but Harry still alive. Dracena more difficult
@nightowl_trades Hi! I love your story! ❤️ May I have your permission to translate it into Chinese and share it on a Chinese reading platform? I'll clearly credit you as the original author and link to your Wattpad story. I won't publish anything without your permission. Thank you!
@ShamashAran https://t.co/6WMzoK2LaH
Part III (The end)
The three of them were laughing. That, by itself, would have been unimaginable months earlier. Hermione was sprawled sideways in one of the armchairs near the fire, an enormous book forgotten open across her lap. Harry sat on the rug with his back against the sofa. Dracena occupied the sofa itself in a position she would have described as dignified, despite having one foot tucked beneath her and tears streaming down her face.
“I did not say that.”
“You absolutely did.” Hermione said.
“I said they were aesthetically offensive.”
“You said automobiles were ‘hideous little Muggle carriages that smell of explosions.’”
“They do!”
Potter was laughing too hard to speak. Dracena pointed accusingly at him.
“And you agreed with me!”
“I said some of them are ugly.”
“You showed me the one with the wood stuck to the sides!”
“The station wagon?”
“Yes!”
Hermione dissolved into laughter again. Dracena tried to maintain her outrage for perhaps three seconds before losing the battle and laughing with them.
“I hate both of you.”
“No, you don’t.” Harry said.
“I am reconsidering.”
She wiped the tears from beneath her eyes. Hermione stopped laughing. Harry noticed Hermione first. He followed her gaze.
The laughter died in his throat. Dracena was still smiling.
“What?”
Dracena’s smile faded.
“What?”
Hermione slowly closed the book.
“Dracena.”
Something in her voice made Dracena sit straighter.
“What?”
“How did you get that bruise?”
Dracena’s hand rose automatically toward her face. Her fingers found the place where she’d wiped away the makeup. She froze. Harry could see it now, a dark purple mark beneath her left eye, extending across the top of her cheek.
Dracena stood abruptly. “It’s nothing.”
Hermione’s expression hardened. “That isn’t nothing.”
“I walked into something.”
“Dracena.”
“I said it’s nothing.”
She reached for her bag.
Harry stood.
“Dracena.”
“I’m tired. I’m going to bed.”
“Who hit you?” Harry blurted out.
Nobody moved. Dracena’s face became utterly blank. Harry had seen that expression before. It was the “Malfoid face.” The one she wore when she wanted the entire world locked outside.
Hermione rose. “Dracena...”
“Hermione.” Dracena said, coldly.
Harry looked at her. Hermione looked back.
“Could you give us a minute?”
“Harry, this...”
“Please.” Harry said, desperately.
Hermione’s eyes went to Dracena. Dracena was staring at the floor. Hermione hesitated, then she walked over to her. “You know where I’ll be.”
Dracena nodded once. Hermione squeezed her arm. Dracena didn’t respond. Hermione collected her books and left.
The door closed.
Harry didn’t move toward Dracena. He desperately wanted to. Instead he waited. Dracena remained standing beside the sofa.
“Father hit me.”
Harry felt something hot and violent ignite behind his ribs. Quashed it as best he could. He knew anger wasn’t what Dracena needed. He desperately worked to display the calm he didn’t feel.
“Why?”
She gave a tiny, bitter laugh.
“Muggles.”
Harry waited, and listened, desperately working his anger into his feet.
“I was telling him what Hermione taught me.”
“About what?”
“Airplanes.”
Harry blinked. “You didn’t know about airplanes?”
Dracena closed her eyes. “Harry, please.”
“Sorry.”
She sat. Harry sat beside her, leaving space between them.
“I was telling him about them. And computers. And that Muggles went to the Moon.” Her mouth twitched. “I still think Granger may be lying about that.”
“She’s not.”
“Yeah, I know.”
The smile vanished. “I told Father I’d been wrong about them.”
Harry’s stomach tightened.
“He asked where I’d learned all this.” She swallowed. “I told him.”
Harry knew what came next, but stayed silent.
“He became angry.” Dracena touched her cheek. “He said hanging around with Mudbloods was beneath a Malfoid.”
Potter’s fists clenched, and Dracena noticed.
“Don’t.”
“I’m not doing anything.”
“You’re thinking very loudly.”
Potter forced his hands open. “Then he hit you.” Harry said, with a neutrality he didn’t feel.
“Yes.”
“Has he done it before?”
“No. No. Never. He was furious though.” Dracena said. “I’ve never seen him like that.”
Harry stared into the fire, working overtime to maintain the calm composure he didn’t feel. There were perhaps a hundred things he wanted to say. Most of them were terrible.
Your father’s a bastard.
No.
You can’t go home.
Absolutely not.
You have to tell someone.
Maybe. Eventually.
He remembered a washroom and a girl crying because everyone seemed to think Harry required her to hate everything she’d ever loved before him. He remembered Hermione and Dracena sitting together for hours afterward, alternately arguing and explaining things to one another. He remembered Dracena trying to explain that family wasn’t simply a collection of people she happened to share blood with.
It was her history.
Her culture.
Her place in the world.
And her father was part of that.
Harry chose his words carefully. “There’s a Muggle term for this.”
Dracena looked at him. “Of course there is.”
“Domestic violence.”
Her brow furrowed. “What does that mean?”
“Someone hurting someone in their family. A husband hitting his wife. A parent hurting a child. Things like that.”
Dracena’s expression changed. “I’m not a child.”
“You’re sixteen.”
“That’s old enough to...”
“Dracena.”
She stopped. “In the Muggle world, what your father did can be a crime.”
Her eyes widened. “A crime?“
“Yes.”
“For striking his own daughter?”
“Especially his own daughter.”
Dracena looked genuinely bewildered. “It’s not... acceptable for us either.”
Potter waited. “But?”
She looked uncomfortable. “It’s private.”
“No.”
Her eyes flashed.
“Harry...”
“No.”
“Don’t tell me...”
“I’m not.”
His voice remained quiet. “I’m telling you what I believe.”
Dracena looked away. “In old families, these things are handled within the family.”
“And what happens if the person hurting you is the head of the family?” Harry asked, his anger slowly seeping into his voice.
She didn’t answer. Harry immediately wished he’d phrased it differently. Dracena’s eyes filled again.
“I never thought he’d hit me.”
Harry’s anger disappeared beneath something much sadder. “That’s unfortunately how it works sometimes.”
She looked at him. “How do you know?”
Harry hesitated.
“Did your Aunt and Uncle...?”
“No.”
“Then how...”
“Uncle Vernon’s sister.”
Dracena frowned.
“Her husband hit her. Repeatedly”
“Oh.”
“She stayed with us for a while.” Harry remembered suitcases in the hall. A woman trying desperately to pretend everything was ordinary. Aunt Petunia making tea at two in the morning. “Until the divorce was finalized. Then she found a job and got a place of her own.”
Dracena looked frightened.
“Divorce.”
“Yeah.”
“You think I should leave my family.”
Harry didn’t know what to say. Exactly the place Potter had desperately hoped not to end up.
“No.”
She looked at him sharply.
“No?”
“I think you’re sixteen.”
“But you just said...”
“I know what I said.”
Potter rubbed his forehead.
“I’m making a mess of this.”
“You’re doing better than I did with Hermione.” Dracena said, bitterly.
That almost made him laugh. Almost.
Dracena’s voice broke.
“But Harry, I’m only sixteen.”
“I know.”
“What am I supposed to do? Get a job? Find a house? ‘Divorce’ my own father?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“I don’t know.”
She stared at him. Harry hated those words, but they were true. “I don’t know yet.”
Dracena looked down. Potter stared into the fire.
“I know your family is important to you.”
She didn’t answer.
“Your heritage is important to you.”
Dracena remained silent.
“And I’ve been trying to understand that.”
“I know.”
“I really am.”
“I know.”
“But...”
He stopped.
Every version of the sentence sounded wrong.
But your father...
But your traditions...
But your family...
All of them turned this into a choice. Harry didn’t want to make her choose. Then he looked at the bruise again. He realized there was one thing he could say.
“But you’re important to me.”
Dracena looked up. Harry swallowed. “Merlin knows why.” he muttered.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“I heard you.”
“Of course you did.”
Despite herself, her mouth twitched.
Then Harry became serious again.
“I want to understand your family. Your traditions. All of it. I want you to teach me.”
Dracena stared at him.
“And there are things I’m probably never going to understand.” He took a breath. “But some things aren’t complicated for me.”
Her eyes flicked toward him.
“A father hurting his daughter because he’s angry is one of them.”
“Harry...”
“Dracena, please. Let me finish first.” His voice wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be. “I can’t let that go.”
Dracena’s expression hardened defensively.
“He’s still my father.”
“I know.”
“I love him.”
“I know.”
“He has been good to me my entire life.”
“I believe you.”
“You don’t sound like you do.”
“I do.”
Harry turned toward her.
“And he hit you.”
Dracena flinched. Harry immediately softened.
“I’m sorry.”
She wiped her eyes.
“He made a mistake.”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
“Maybe it was one terrible mistake he’ll regret for the rest of his life.” Harry hoped so.
“Then what do you want?”
“I want to make sure it never happens again.”
“How?” Dracena pleaded.
“I don’t know.”
Again. Those horrible, honest words. Dracena began crying.
“I don’t know either.”
Harry moved closer, almost touching her. “I care about you, Dracena.” he spat out, unexpectedly. He immediately regretted it. Almost. She looked at him.
“I wouldn’t want this to happen to anyone. Hermione. Ron. Neville. Someone I’ve never met.”
His voice caught. “But you?”
Dracena’s lower lip trembled.
“Especially you.”
That did it. Whatever remained of Malfoid’s dignity simply disintegrated. She made an awful little choking noise and threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around him as she wept. Harry barely caught her.
Dracena buried her face against his chest and sobbed. Not the picturesque single tear she would have tolerated in public. She ugly-cried. Her shoulders shook. Her breathing came in ragged gasps. She grabbed fistfuls of Potter’s jumper and held on as though someone might pull her away. Harry wrapped both arms around her and held her.
“It’s all right.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“No” Harry corrected himself. “No, it isn’t.”
She cried harder.
Harry rested his cheek against her hair. After a while, Dracena whispered:
“Why do you care so much?”
Harry closed his eyes. There were moments when a person could still retreat. This was one of them.
He could make a joke.
He could say because we’re friends.
He could tell her this was what anyone would do.
All technically true.
All cowardly.
“Because I’m in love with you.”
Dracena stopped crying. Completely. Harry immediately wished for death.
She slowly pulled away.
“What?”
“I said...”
“I heard you.”
“Oh.”
“You love me.”
“Apparently.”
“Apparently?”
“I’m having a difficult evening.”
Dracena stared at him.
“How long?” she said, simply.
“What?”
“How long have you known?”
Harry considered it. “I don’t know.”
“Those words are helpful.”
“I think I’ve been doing it for longer than I’ve known I was doing it.”
Dracena’s eyes filled again.
“Oh, don’t cry again.”
“I’m not!”
“You are.”
“Shut up.”
Harry smiled a bit, and Dracena punched him weakly in the shoulder. Then she grabbed the front of his jumper again. “I love you too.”
Potter forgot every intelligent thought he’d ever had.
“What?”
“Oh, don’t make me say it again.”
“I think you should.”
“Harry.”
“Just to make sure.”
She glared at him through smeared mascara.
“I love you.”
Harry smiled at her. Dracena’s face crumpled again.
“Oh, damn you.”
She kissed him. It wasn’t elegant. It was messy and awkward. Their noses bumped. Potter’s hand went somewhere completely useless before he figured out where to put it.
Dracena was still crying. Then Harry was laughing. Then she was laughing and crying simultaneously. When they separated, their foreheads remained together.
“This is an absolute disaster.” Dracena whispered.
“Yeah.”
“My father is going to hate this.”
Potter’s smile disappeared. Dracena saw it. Reality came flooding back.
Her family.
His friends.
The things she believed.
The things he couldn’t accept.
The war everyone could feel somewhere beyond the castle walls, still distant but getting closer.
Dracena looked frightened again.
“And if we can’t make this work?”
“Dracena, don’t.”
“Seriously. If we can’t?” Her voice was smaller now. “I don’t want to lose you.”
Harry opened his mouth. He desperately wanted to say, “You won’t.”
The words were right there. Easy. Two words, and the fear would leave her face. He’d said things like that before. He meant them, too. As if wanting something badly enough made it a promise. But it never worked.
He closed his mouth. Dracena noticed.
“You can’t say it.”
“I want to.”
Somehow that seemed to hurt her more.
“That’s not what I asked.”
“I know.”
She looked away. Potter wanted to take it back. He wanted to say the easy thing and deal with whether it was true later.
“I don’t know.”
She looked at him again.
“I don’t know what’s going to happen. I don’t know what you’re going to do. I don’t know what I’m going to have to do.”
Her jaw tightened.
“You mean my father. You mean…”
Harry didn’t answer.
“Say it.”
“Your father.”
For a moment she looked furious, then her face dropped. The fear was evident
“I love him.”
“I know.”
“He’s wrong.”
“I know.”
“Those can both be true, Potter.”
“I know.”
“Stop saying that.”
“Then stop saying things I know.”
A tiny, furious laugh escaped her before she could stop it. Then it was gone.
“I don’t know what I’ll do.”
Potter swallowed.
“Neither do I.”
“That’s a bloody awful foundation for a relationship.”
“It could be worse.”
That almost got another laugh. Almost.
“So that’s it?” she asked. “We don’t know?”
Harry shook his head.
“No.”
“No?”
“We don’t lie about not knowing.”
Dracena stared at him. Harry took her hand. “I can’t promise you that everything will work out.” She looked down at their fingers.
“I can’t promise your father will accept me. Or Hermione. Or that you’ll agree with me about everything someday.”
“God forbid.”
“Exactly.”
That earned him the faintest smile.
“And I can’t promise I’m never going to ask something from you that you can’t give me.”
Her smile disappeared.
“Neither can I.”
“I know.”
She squeezed his hand.
Potter looked at the bruise on her face.
“But I can promise you something else.”
“What?”
“If I don’t know, I’ll tell you I don’t know.”
Dracena’s eyes filled.
“If I’m frightened, I’ll tell you I’m frightened. If I’m angry, I’ll try to tell you why before I do something stupid.”
“Try?”
“I’m Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, not a miracle worker.”
She snorted.
“And if something you believe matters to you, I’ll listen before I decide it’s stupid.”
“That’s an improvement.”
“And if I think it’s wrong, I’ll tell you.”
“I would expect nothing less.”
Harry nodded.
“And I need the same from you.”
Dracena was quiet for a moment.
“You have it.”
He touched her cheek very gently, careful to stay far away from the bruise.
“And this?”
Dracena went still.
“This is one of the things I can’t compromise about.”
She looked at him.
“I am not asking you to stop loving your father.”
Her eyes widened slightly.
“I’m not asking you to stop being a Malfoid.”
That one hit harder. Potter could tell.
“I’m asking you to let me help make sure nobody gets to hurt you because they love you.”
Dracena closed her eyes. Another tear escaped. “Even him?”
Harry hesitated. “Especially him.”
She opened her eyes.
“Why especially?”
“Because if some stranger hit you, you’d know exactly what to do.”
Dracena stared at him. Harry saw that she understood.
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
She leaned against him again, resting her head against his shoulder. Harry put his arm around her.
“Hermione is waiting outside, isn’t she?”
“Probably.”
“Listening at the door?”
“Definitely.”
From the other side of the door came an indignant:
“I AM NOT.”
Dracena stared at it. Potter stared at it.
Then Dracena laughed. A real laugh. Harry joined her.
“Come in, Granger.” Dracena called.
The door opened almost immediately.
Hermione stood there holding her enormous book.
“I couldn’t hear much anyway. Besides, I was reading.”
“In the corridor?”
“The lighting is excellent.”
Dracena rolled her eyes.
Then Hermione saw their hands and stopped.
She looked at Dracena. She Looked at Harry, staring at their hands clasped together.
“Oh.”
Dracena immediately became defensive. “Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Your face did.”
Harry started laughing. Hermione sat beside Dracena. For a moment, none of them spoke. Then Dracena leaned against her too. Hermione stiffened in surprise, then put an arm around her.
Her father was still her father. Her family was still her family. Harry was still Harry. Hermione was still an insufferable Muggle-born know-it-all who had somehow become one of the people Dracena trusted most in the world. Nothing had been solved.
Tomorrow there would be professors to tell, decisions to make, arguments to have, and consequences none of them could predict.
But tonight Dracena sat between two people who loved her. For the moment, that was enough.
Harry Potter What If - Malfoy
This video was created using Seedance 2.0 from @Artlist_io website.
The characters and original story belong to @jk_rowling; this is simply a work made by fans for fans.
#HarryPotter #Malfoy #Malfoid #DraconiaMalfoy #Anime #PleaseJKRowling #PleaseHBO
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