I started this when I was 16, with a keen interest to reblog everything I saw. Now I'm in my twenties and am not really sure why I'm still here. Oddly enough, despite my inconsistencies with all other social media, here I stand. Maybe it's a hard habit to break. Maybe I've made friends I don't want to lose. Maybe I'm still looking for inspiration. Somewhere along the way, I have gone from looking at inspirational quotes and aesthetics, to taking an interest in music (Hilary Duff, Jesse McCartney), to enjoying Kpop and Kdrama (Big Bang, Taeyang, Cassiopeia, Jaejoong, Yunjae, DBSK, OT5, JYJ, Yunho, BoA, Girl's Day, APink, Lee Jong Suk), to pining about real life people. Every once in awhile, I throw in a little personal touch of life and poetry. Where am I now? I've gone back and rediscovered my childhood and am all about Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy and Drarry and the sweetheart that lives in a body named Tom Felton.
Over the 8 years, I have switched favorite colors from PINK to Sky Blue to Cassiopeia Fandom Red to the current Slytherin Green.
I'm a Ravenclaw, who wishes she was a Gryffindor, whose heart goes out to the Slytherins, and who longs for a friend in a Hufflepuff.
12.07.11 J.N. I am not certain about a lot of things, but my love for you always will be.
Catching Elephant is a theme by Andy Taylor
you know what’s wild is that all these crazy standards we hold ourselves to are things that we don’t even value in another person? like i’ve never been like “wow I love that this friend of mine is too proud to ask for help and never complains about their feelings” or “my favorite quality about this friend is that they get straight A’s and never get overwhelmed and has never told me about a problem” or “i love that this friend has never been wrong about anything or slipped up and said something embarrassing once in their life” and yet here we are, pushing ourselves past our limits for and beating ourselves up over slipups of things that our friends probably wouldn’t even rank in the top 50 reasons they like us
I can really imagine Draco being the kind of person who skips meals a lot. At first it’s because at the manor when he was a kid there were always set meal times and at Hogwarts that’s no longer the case so sometimes he just… Forgets.
And then during the war he just spends as much time as he can hauled up in his room to avoid any of the visitors at Hogwarts or Malfoy manor, which makes finding a decent meal quite difficult.
After the war he’s completely lost his eating routine and even when he does remember that he should eat there’s often this little voice inside his head whispering but do you deserve to eat? Is the pain of being hungry not the perfect punishment for an evil death eater like yourself who slipped through the mazes of the law?
And even when his self hatred lessens a bit he still…. doesn’t eat. He eats with friends, with colleagues at work, with the kind lady next door when she knocks on his door to borrow some sugar (which is just her excuse for a chat). But when he’s alone it just doesn’t happen.
So when, after three days of living on tea and biscuits he emerges from his potions research to pick something up in Diagon Alley, he’s just walking across the street and then suddenly… He isn’t. He’s on the floor, a god awful stinging pain in his stomach, shoulder, the side of his head and the arm he used to catch himself is quite clearly broken.
Not many people care though. Passer by’s are never much inclined to help in the first place, and when they see it’s a Malfoy sprawled out on the street they simply step around him and move on with their day. A couple of youthful fellas don’t even bother to go round, they step on him, which is when…
“Hey! How dare you treat a fellow human being like that!” The fury in Mrs Weasley’s voice is of a kind Draco hasn’t heard since the battle of Hogwarts. He tries to roll over and get a good look at the woman, but his muscles don’t agree with that idea and he faints again.
When he comes to, he’s in a place that is both familiar and completely unknown to him. He’s never been there before, but he knows some of its occupants and the house reflects their spirit brilliantly.
“Ah, I see you’re awake my love.” Mrs Weasley is at his side in an instant, helping him sit up and drink a cup of strong, sweetened tea. “What on earth got into to go without eating for this long? I often say to my guests that they look famished, but in your case you actually are skinny to the bloody bone.”
Mrs. Weasley pushed him back into the couch pillows with a kind yet firm hand. To his surprise it didn’t hurt. The Weasley matriarch must have healed him while he was out cold.
“I’m sorry ma’am, I didn’t mean to bother you.” Draco apologised, feeling incredibly stupid laying there on the Weasley’s couch. “I’ll pay attention to that next time I go out.”
“Next time you, next time you go out?” Mrs Weasley sputtered. “Okay that’s it you’re staying here until you’ve properly learned how to take care of yourself young man. I won’t have you leaving this house until you look like you’re living on good meals and love instead of desperation and thin air.”
“But-, but ma’am,” it was Draco’s turn to sputter now. “Don’t you know who I am?”
“I know exactly who you are. Namely a child who’s half starved with no one to properly look after him.” Mrs Weasley said sharply, though something in her eyes told Draco that she knew his last name damn well. He was mildly offended by being called a child though. He was twenty seven, not four. “So, don’t move as I go into the kitchen to make you some decent soup. Try to sleep a bit while I’m gone.”
Then Mrs Weasley left, leaving a baffled Draco. But also a very tired Draco, who was starting to feel the toll of not eating and barely sleeping for three days. Damned potions research for being so interesting. Though he couldn’t make himself think about that now, he was too busy falling asleep again.
“Mum! You didn’t say anything about adopting our best potion freelancer!” Draco was startled awake as the Weasley twins fell out of the heart. “Though I must say I-”
“Fred! Stop disturbing our guest right this instance!” Mrs Weasley came out of the kitchen with a ladle swinging threateningly above her head. “Yes I adopted him because I literally found him passed out in the middle of Diagon alley since he doesn’t eat. And if I find out you two knew about that but didn’t say anything you can both sleep in the garden for the rest of your pitiful existence. Now come into the kitchen and help me peel the potatoes.”
“Wow, passed out in the middle of…” George half whispered as he shot one last look at Draco. “That’s not good.”
No it isn’t. Now come over here and help me feed the young man.”Mrs Weasley ordered. “Both of you.”
Draco, who’d been pretending to sleep the entire time, actually fell asleep again as the twins left the living room. He didn’t wake again until soft fingers and a dreamy voice coaxed him out of dreamland.
“Dracoooo.” Luna whispered, poking his cheek. “It’s time for dinner. You have to eat.”
“Hmpf.” Draco muttered, feeling entirely unprepared for that task. He felt like shit in the middle of a lion’s den and it wasn’t a place where he wanted to be. “Don’t want to. Leave me alone.”
“Luna will do no such thing.” Mrs Weasley had returned, and she clearly wasn’t having his nonsense. “You’ll feel better once you have a good meal in you, Draco dear. That’s a Weasley promise.”
Reluctantly, Draco opened his eyes at that and let the two women help him off the couch. He felt pathetic and dumb and completely unfit for a meal in a way that had nothing to do with his stomach.
“Nice hair, Malfoy.” Fred joked as he started piling way too many things on Draco’s plate after a warning glare from his mother. “Goes brilliantly with the mud stains on your sweater.”
“Thanks.” Draco muttered, feeling way too out of it for a snarky comment. He only just managed to sit down without assistance. “And thanks for all this, Mrs Weasley. You really didn’t have to.”
“Bullshit. If she hadn’t done it I would have.” Draco was startled by the voice of Potter and turned his head just a bit too fast as he watched the man enter. Lucky for him, Potter chose to sit next to him and disguised his unsteadiness by pulling him into a big hug. “Dammit Malfoy, I knew you were skinny but I thought that was a family thing. Turns out you just don’t bloody eat at all.”
Potter sounded almost angry as he spoke, which Draco found quite confusing. He had no time to question it though as Mrs Weasley ordered them all to tuck in, which he did. He only stopped eating when his stomach was filled to burst. Only then did he notice all the other people around the table. Neville, Luna, Potter, Mrs and Mr Weasley, Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, Dean, Seamus, even always busy Holyhead Harpies chaser Ginny was there.
It looked like a true family.
“It’s a nice thing to be part of, isn’t it?” Potter asked with the biggest happy grin on his face. Draco opened his mouth to utter some sort of protest, but Potter wouldn’t let him. “Shut it Malfoy. You are part of it. And you deserve it too, otherwise you wouldn’t be here. Not that it matters if you agree with that or not, Molly is still going to bring you breakfast lunch and dinner until she trusts you to eat properly on your own.”
“You’re damn right I will.” Mrs Weasley confirmed. “Walking half starved through Diagon Alley… That a level of idiocy that I haven’t seen in many moons. Though I’m glad you did love, who known what would have happened if you’d passed out somewhere where no one would find you?”
“I would have died, probably.” Draco noted, realising for the first time how big an issue this eating thing was for him. If he’d passed out in his potions lab, the fumes would have done him in, and in his own flat… It wasn’t odd for him to be alone for a week. Passing out there wouldn’t be the brightest plan either.
“Well then fucking eat like a normal person.” Potter said angrily as he trapped Draco in a bone crushing hug. “You’re not allowed to die, Draco.”
“I’m not?”
“No.” Potter shook his head. “I forbid it. And I’m the saviour so you have to listen to me. It’s the law.”
“I’m quite sure that’s not a law, Potter.” Draco chuckled, but he still enjoyed the sentiment. “But alright, I’ll try.”
“You’ll try when you go back to your own place. Which won’t be for at least two months, Draco.” Mrs Weasley shot him a warning glare. “I’m nourishing you back to health and good habits before you can walk out the door, understood?”
Draco nodded, slightly baffled by how fierce everyone was. He was quite sure they cared more about his health than he did. But as he stayed at the Burrow, quickly integrating into the strange family, he slowly started to care for his own health a little bit.
And it slowly became clear that he wasn’t going home at all. Or rather, not his old home. He had a new home now. First the Burrow, and after a few weeks, Harry’s own flat. Because he was Harry to him now. That, and his boyfriend. A boyfriend who bothered him just as much about food as Mrs. Weasley did.
And for the first time in his life, Draco was glad for it.
So loving and cozy, great comfort read!
Thank you!
Beautiful. And Fred’s alive!
The Weasleys. The comfort. Family. I love this.
My sister said I shouldn’t have done that. Why did I do that? Like she’s one to judge. She cried too. If even she was affected, can anyone else even begin to fathom what it’s like?
my sister had a tab open that’s title was ‘removing dark marks’ and my genuine first thought was ‘she’s a death eater’ rather than ‘acne scars’
My heart used to flutter when my teachers said I did good. That’s what I did it for. I tried so hard. But now, when they said I did good, nothing. No reaction. Is it because I don’t believe it? Or because Nothing Matters?
I can’t stop crying. Why can’t I stop crying? It’s not school. School’s over. I graduate for good in a semester. School doesn’t even faze me now. I’ve gotten used to it. I think I’m invincible. I can survive school. No, school’s not the cause of my tears. I think this has been awhile coming. I’ve pushed it back, until I couldn’t push anymore. They say these things catch up to you, don’t they? I don’t care. I don’t care about anything. Nothing touches me. If I don’t care, then why am I crying? It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters.
On the eve of James and Lily’s wedding reception, Remus found himself alone on their roof, spinning smoke into the air with his wand.
Remember this, he thought as he watched the purple dusk swallow the sky.
Remember James, glasses skewed, lipstick smudged on his cheek.
Remember Peter, bright-eyed and laughing and surrounded by his friends.
Remember Lily, wand twisted in her hair, trailing bubbles as she danced.
And remember Sirius, looking happier in a tie than he ever had before.
Remus tapped his wand once, and the smoke turned to white ash in the air, drifting away in the wind.
Remember this.
ref.
☕ko-fi ☕
(Source: mirayama)
