100 Moments
folder
Harry Potter › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
100
Views:
11,654
Reviews:
52
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
100
Views:
11,654
Reviews:
52
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Quest
Title: Quest
Author: ianthe_waiting
Rating: T
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter books and their characters are the property of JK Rowling. This is a work of fan-fiction. No infringement is intended, and no money is being made from this story. I am just borrowing the puppets, but this is my stage.
Genre: Drabble
Warnings: None
Summary: #93 – Quest. He wanted to destroy me.
Word Count: 1,053 words.
Author's Notes: Drabble: a slice of fic in less than 1500 words. An aside to WGWD.
Prompt 93 – Quest
The man was out to destroy me.
He sat across the table, smugly smirking as my solicitor read over the suit in his hand, muttering angrily. All the while, my publisher was speaking softly.
“I can see how it might offend some people in the Wizarding community, Mr. Malfoy. However, there are no mentions of Death Eaters, Pure-blooded families by name, let alone recent events…”
I could only roll my eyes as Lucius Malfoy gazed at me.
“It is a children’s book, nothing more.”
“I beg to differ,” he drawled. “It is a well disguised manifesto that promotes certain ideals that discriminate against an ancient tradition well known in the Wizarding world, Mr. Lewis. While Ms. Granger advocates for equal rights for Muggle-borns, she discriminates against Pure-bloods, painting them as inbred sycophants to those who would threaten our collective lifestyle.”
Again, I rolled my eyes.
I had to get up early to come to Diagon Alley for a meeting with Philip Lewis, my publisher, Bennigan Fanley, my solicitor, and Lucius Malfoy, the man who threatened to sue the publisher over my books.
Mimsy the Mouse was a popular character in children’s books. Dean Thomas did the illustrations that moved across the pages, in time with the words on the page. I was surprised Malfoy did not summon Dean to the meeting as well.
“Simply because you have this notion that Octavian the Owl and Craggy the Cat somehow represent Voldemort and a Death Eater does not mean that is so, Mr. Malfoy,” my solicitor grumbled setting the several page suit on the table. “They are archetypes only, characters who, if you would like to read the drafts for Miss Granger’s next installment, are redeemed and eventually become friends with the main character.”
At Fanley’s words, I noticed Malfoy’s brow rise slightly, but still he smirked, sitting like a king at the head of the end of the table while I sat at the other end.
“It is a commentary to all children not to discriminate over something as passé as blood purity, among other things. We have come far in this society that such a notion is no longer important,” Fanley finished.
I had done well in choosing him as my solicitor. He was Pure-blooded, but liberal, forward thinking.
“So you see, Mr. Malfoy, there is no grounds to your suit that Miss Granger should somehow redact her work. If there were such grounds, I would not have contracted Miss Granger in the first place,” Lewis said stiffly. “All the same, I am happy that you have voiced your concerns with us directly, instead of writing another letter to the Prophet…”
I sighed. Malfoy had only succeeded in wasting my time, and I supposed that was part of the point.
Approximately ten minutes later, I was walking to the lobby of the publishing house; ready to start walking back to my hotel room in Whitehall.
“Miss Granger?”
I paused, stopping just short of the doors, my eyes closing for a moment. I turned slowly, Lucius Malfoy just before me in his dark finery, complete with cane. He stood much taller than I did, and it made me feel like I was Second Year again, meeting him in the bookshop.
“Come to aggravate me further, Mr. Malfoy?” I sighed.
“I’ve told you before, call me Lucius.”
The smug twisting of his lips was still in place, but as he gazed down into my face, there was a strange glint in his silver eyes.
He had insisted that I call him by his first name, though I did not know why. As far as I knew, the man could not stand the fact I existed. However, he did somehow arrange situations where we would meet in public, a little too often.
“Well then, Lucius, I am quite aggravated, a bit tired, and need to be on my way to make arrangements for a Portkey to the States, now if you’ll excuse me…”
I started to turn. I had not lied my way out of this confrontation; I was due to meet with a contact in New York that night.
However, before I could turn, he grasped my arm, none too gentlely, preventing me from moving away. I glanced to his hand, gloved, and followed his black clad arm to his pale, shrewd face. Slowly, he released me, the smugness turning dangerous.
“This is not over, Miss Granger…”
I frowned. I was not sure what he meant, exactly.
“If you mean me writing informative and uplifting books for children, you are wrong. Or if you mean dragging me out into a public setting to annoy and deride me to the point to ridiculousness, I’m sure that it will continue…”
He said nothing, even as I took a step back, realizing how close he stood to me.
“One might think there is something more to this than your quest to keep a Muggle-born from succeeding, or keeping your idea of proper society confined to interbreeding with first cousins, Lucius. Or is this the best you can do to place yourself near me for whatever twisted reason?”
It was spoken ala Malfoy, in a seductive drawl that made him blink at me, uncharacteristically. Finally, he seemed to regain some sense of self, his eyes harder, his smirk returning.
“I simply wonder at your sanity, Miss Granger. I question whether you are fit to write for children, filling their heads with nonsense and propaganda.”
I snorted. “You simply refuse to see the true motivation of my work, Lucius. If I can spare one child from being called Mudblood, or enable a Muggle-born child to feel that they do belong in this world, then my quest, my mission is complete.
Distribution extends to the Muggle populace later this month, and there is nothing you can do about it.
Excuse me.”
I turned on my heel, and strode to the door and out into the street. Malfoy did not follow.
I knew very well that he would continue to try to bring me low. Whether it was in written word or in person, Lucius Malfoy wanted to squash me under his expensive boot. I knew why, for the most part, but there had to be more to it than simply intimidating another Mudblood for fun.
His eyes made my insides squirm.
Author: ianthe_waiting
Rating: T
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter books and their characters are the property of JK Rowling. This is a work of fan-fiction. No infringement is intended, and no money is being made from this story. I am just borrowing the puppets, but this is my stage.
Genre: Drabble
Warnings: None
Summary: #93 – Quest. He wanted to destroy me.
Word Count: 1,053 words.
Author's Notes: Drabble: a slice of fic in less than 1500 words. An aside to WGWD.
Prompt 93 – Quest
The man was out to destroy me.
He sat across the table, smugly smirking as my solicitor read over the suit in his hand, muttering angrily. All the while, my publisher was speaking softly.
“I can see how it might offend some people in the Wizarding community, Mr. Malfoy. However, there are no mentions of Death Eaters, Pure-blooded families by name, let alone recent events…”
I could only roll my eyes as Lucius Malfoy gazed at me.
“It is a children’s book, nothing more.”
“I beg to differ,” he drawled. “It is a well disguised manifesto that promotes certain ideals that discriminate against an ancient tradition well known in the Wizarding world, Mr. Lewis. While Ms. Granger advocates for equal rights for Muggle-borns, she discriminates against Pure-bloods, painting them as inbred sycophants to those who would threaten our collective lifestyle.”
Again, I rolled my eyes.
I had to get up early to come to Diagon Alley for a meeting with Philip Lewis, my publisher, Bennigan Fanley, my solicitor, and Lucius Malfoy, the man who threatened to sue the publisher over my books.
Mimsy the Mouse was a popular character in children’s books. Dean Thomas did the illustrations that moved across the pages, in time with the words on the page. I was surprised Malfoy did not summon Dean to the meeting as well.
“Simply because you have this notion that Octavian the Owl and Craggy the Cat somehow represent Voldemort and a Death Eater does not mean that is so, Mr. Malfoy,” my solicitor grumbled setting the several page suit on the table. “They are archetypes only, characters who, if you would like to read the drafts for Miss Granger’s next installment, are redeemed and eventually become friends with the main character.”
At Fanley’s words, I noticed Malfoy’s brow rise slightly, but still he smirked, sitting like a king at the head of the end of the table while I sat at the other end.
“It is a commentary to all children not to discriminate over something as passé as blood purity, among other things. We have come far in this society that such a notion is no longer important,” Fanley finished.
I had done well in choosing him as my solicitor. He was Pure-blooded, but liberal, forward thinking.
“So you see, Mr. Malfoy, there is no grounds to your suit that Miss Granger should somehow redact her work. If there were such grounds, I would not have contracted Miss Granger in the first place,” Lewis said stiffly. “All the same, I am happy that you have voiced your concerns with us directly, instead of writing another letter to the Prophet…”
I sighed. Malfoy had only succeeded in wasting my time, and I supposed that was part of the point.
Approximately ten minutes later, I was walking to the lobby of the publishing house; ready to start walking back to my hotel room in Whitehall.
“Miss Granger?”
I paused, stopping just short of the doors, my eyes closing for a moment. I turned slowly, Lucius Malfoy just before me in his dark finery, complete with cane. He stood much taller than I did, and it made me feel like I was Second Year again, meeting him in the bookshop.
“Come to aggravate me further, Mr. Malfoy?” I sighed.
“I’ve told you before, call me Lucius.”
The smug twisting of his lips was still in place, but as he gazed down into my face, there was a strange glint in his silver eyes.
He had insisted that I call him by his first name, though I did not know why. As far as I knew, the man could not stand the fact I existed. However, he did somehow arrange situations where we would meet in public, a little too often.
“Well then, Lucius, I am quite aggravated, a bit tired, and need to be on my way to make arrangements for a Portkey to the States, now if you’ll excuse me…”
I started to turn. I had not lied my way out of this confrontation; I was due to meet with a contact in New York that night.
However, before I could turn, he grasped my arm, none too gentlely, preventing me from moving away. I glanced to his hand, gloved, and followed his black clad arm to his pale, shrewd face. Slowly, he released me, the smugness turning dangerous.
“This is not over, Miss Granger…”
I frowned. I was not sure what he meant, exactly.
“If you mean me writing informative and uplifting books for children, you are wrong. Or if you mean dragging me out into a public setting to annoy and deride me to the point to ridiculousness, I’m sure that it will continue…”
He said nothing, even as I took a step back, realizing how close he stood to me.
“One might think there is something more to this than your quest to keep a Muggle-born from succeeding, or keeping your idea of proper society confined to interbreeding with first cousins, Lucius. Or is this the best you can do to place yourself near me for whatever twisted reason?”
It was spoken ala Malfoy, in a seductive drawl that made him blink at me, uncharacteristically. Finally, he seemed to regain some sense of self, his eyes harder, his smirk returning.
“I simply wonder at your sanity, Miss Granger. I question whether you are fit to write for children, filling their heads with nonsense and propaganda.”
I snorted. “You simply refuse to see the true motivation of my work, Lucius. If I can spare one child from being called Mudblood, or enable a Muggle-born child to feel that they do belong in this world, then my quest, my mission is complete.
Distribution extends to the Muggle populace later this month, and there is nothing you can do about it.
Excuse me.”
I turned on my heel, and strode to the door and out into the street. Malfoy did not follow.
I knew very well that he would continue to try to bring me low. Whether it was in written word or in person, Lucius Malfoy wanted to squash me under his expensive boot. I knew why, for the most part, but there had to be more to it than simply intimidating another Mudblood for fun.
His eyes made my insides squirm.