D.M. (cravenly) wrote in winterdale, @ 2021-12-05 21:55:00 |
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Entry tags: | character: draco malfoy, fandom: harry potter |
Who: Draco Malfoy (Age 11)
What: Home for the Holidays during his first year
When: Not quite Christmas
Where: The Tonks Residence
Rating: G
Status: Narrative backstory (or open to exchanging letters with Harry)
“This was your mother’s wand.” Draco reached for it before Aunt Andromeda had even finished speaking. She pulled back, giving him a look, and Draco tried to appear slightly less grabby the second time he reached out to inspect it. The wand wasn’t much like his. The wood was near black, and there was some ornamental texture winding around the handle. If he were to describe it, he might have said it was elegant. His mother must have put so much love and pride into its appearance as there wasn’t even a scratch on it. Draco’s own wand was fairly well-kept, but it was new, and it still had some scuff marks on it. “I can have it now?” Draco asked. “You can,” Aunt Andromeda agreed. “Unless you’d like me to look after it for you.” “I’ll look after it,” Draco said. He quickly put the wand back into its case, resting it atop a cushion of silk before the lid closed around it. It felt safer in there, out of sight so Draco could resist the urge to wave it around and cast a spell outside of school. He wasn’t about to be expelled right after receiving one of the few items he had of his mother’s. “She was very tidy with it,” Aunt Andromeda admitted with a slight smile. “You get your pickiness from her.” There was a moment when Draco might have scowled, but he stood up straighter and returned the look his aunt had given him moments earlier. The one that said Careful. Aunt Andromeda laughed and reached out to pat his hand that was still clutching the wand case. “I think you’d do well with it, too. Not as well as your own wand of course, but I can’t imagine anything of your mother’s not recognizing her love for you.” It was hard to look at his aunt for a moment, so Draco stared down at the case instead. He hadn’t noticed it earlier, but there was a monogram on it: N.B. Draco furrowed his brow for a moment, then remembered her surname had of course not always been Malfoy. “I don’t want Dora to know,” Draco murmured, turning the case around as if there were clues somewhere he had missed about who this woman had been. “She’d just take it and drop it.” Aunt Andromeda let out a noise she rarely made, but one Dora made frequently when she laughed out of surprise. “She’s not one of your classmates, sweetheart. Dora’s an adult now, and she’s not going to go rummaging through your things.” Draco personally found only one third of that statement to be true, especially when she’d been responsible for eating half of the chocolates he’s brought home from school. But he understood that this was different. Maybe. His aunt still offered him a smile all the same. “You can tell her whenever, if ever, you would like.” “All right,” said Draco. He may have had his reservations about his cousin, but he did want to tell Harry. His friend wouldn’t do anything careless with it. And it was so much nicer than any other wand Draco had seen. The other Slytherins in his class were always going on about status and wealth and this wand represented both, but… he didn’t want to show them either. He’d wanted to write Harry over Christmas holiday, too. Now would as good of a time as any. Draco threw an arm around his aunt in a hug before rushing off to his bedroom, barely catching the “Slow down, young man!” from his bemused uncle. As soon as he pulled out a piece of parchment from his desk and dipped his quill into the inkwell, the words came tumbling out.
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