Victoria Francés Angel

Good Intentions

I know it's some years ago, but I just joined this comm after clicking on his journal in my friends list.

I have no story yet, but this made me remember a story, I started in '03/04 and which is inspired by Michael's veela story. I so loved his style and always remeber the scene with Harry and Draco on the quidditch pitch, where he described Dracos emotions and his sadness, which climaxed in his tears and the starting rain. When I read this, I had tears in my eyes, I remeber this very well... Michael had a beautyful style, but all of you know this ;)

Back then I icq'ed with him and told him about my story and that he inspired me, and he was eager to learn more about it, but sadly it was only in German and the promised translation never came...

So I'll take this as a kick to finish and translate my own veela story and post it - for him!
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I didn't know Michael personally like the rest of you did but I've read his fics and perhaps knew some of him through his writing. He has influenced my way of writing HPDM and I am very sorry to hear of his departure. At least he went away peacefully and left a very vivid and powerful memory of him. I am sure that he will live forever, in our hearts.

Dearest God, our beloved friend Michael has departed, only to enter the gates of Your Kingdom. Please bless Michael, wherever he is and we hope that all these messages will reach him eventually.


We'll miss you, Michael...

Art: Draco/Harry

Title: I'm all yours, but i know you're not mine
Artist: badgene
Pairing: Draco/Harry
Rating: NC-17 or R (i don't know)
Warning: slash, Sex
Note: Done for the_dark_garden, challenge#102:

What I love, I hang on to. With both hands, and my teeth, if I can get a good grip."

"Even if it doesn't love you?"

"Even then. Especially then. Anybody can love something that loves you back. The other way takes a certain amount of effort."

Peter S. Beagle (A Fine and Private Place)

see the picture

when we admit our true secrets

here i am sitting under the tree beside the lake watching the giant squid grab a swan for its dinner. I keep telling myself its not worth it, but this boy,this one certain boy keeps coming into my head like a serpheant sneaks upon its prey when it hunts for its food.

"Oh look its Potty boy! Where is the rest of ur golden trio Potter? Did they get wise too?" came a sneer from a distance.

I clinch my fist in anger trying to remain calm, but no use it would never go away.

"At least I came out Malfoy! What about you huh! Still in denial and still acting like a rich snob who thinks he can make everyone feel beneath you," I retaliate getting up on my feet.

Several students cackle over the remark towards Draco as I watch his face go from embarrassed to sheer anger in a matter of seconds.

"I challenge you to a duel Potter!" Draco shouted stalking to the quidditch pitch with me following behind.

We Dueled until we both feel to the ground exhausted catching our breaths and glaring at one another."You know it would go better if you admit something for once Malfoy," I made the suggestion.

He grimaced in disdain "like I'd admit to being gay Potter, I mean come on you expect me to just come out and say "Hey I'm soo gay!" and not worry about it?"

"never mind Malfoy," I told him getting up to leave the pitch feeling knots tightening in my stomache.

"Potter," I heard Draco barely blurt out turning around looking at him

"I'm gay alright! I'm gay, I am so fucking gay that you put a tutu on my and I wouldn't say a thing about it, Are you happy now Potter?"Draco questioned raising his nose up in the air from his comment.

I grinned at him for the first time walking up to him. He gives me a sly glance while i wrap my arms around him.....

Yeah that was the best day for me, actually for dra as well(I grin)
"potter really we're going to be late, come on" I hear my guy tell me now.
U have to admit i really am glad to be gay!
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Draco Malfoy sat at his desk, uncerimonously dropping into the red chair. He whispered a spell to turn his light on and pulled out a desk drawer. The drawer was crammed with neatly folded letters, each from the same sender, and each unresponded to.

He picked one up off of the stack. It read:


I never meant any of it. Please, I'll do whatever I can to make up to you. I was just mad. Okay? And a little scared. No, I was a LOT scared. You scared me. I scared me. What I felt, what I FEEL scared me. But I'm better, I'm not scared, I'm just sorry. Will you write me back?


Draco wiped at his eyes, as they had teared up. He chose another letter.


What can I do to make you happy? These letters, they'll stop, just say the word. Just send me a note. A blank piece of parchment, anything. For God's sake, Draco, send me bloody owl dung, just so I know you don't hate me completely, that you'll acknowledge my existence at least. I miss you. I miss talking to you and walking with you and just looking into your eyes without seeing hatred and coldness. Will you just tell me one thing? Do you think you could ever not hate me?


Why hadn't Draco responded? It's not like he had ever, could've ever hated Harry. Sure, they got in rows every now and then, but so did every other couple in the world. He was just so... There wasn't a word for it. Stubborn came close. At first, Harry wouldn't apoligise for going out with Ron for a day, so Draco gave him the cold shoulder. Then, Harry got the point, and sent him a letter. Draco ignored that as well. So Harry sent more letters, and Draco had dropped them in the Letter Drawer, as he had begun to think of it, without opening them. Draco shook his head free of the memories that threatened to overtake him and pulled out another letter.


Okay, I'm worried. You're not showing up for work, you don't answer my letters, and your mother says you don't respond to her at all, won't even let her in the house. You need to tell someone something or I'm going to do something about. Actually, come to think of it, you're probably not even going to read this. So why am I writing it? BECAUSE I LOVE YOU!!!!
Okay? Please, help yourself. Don't talk to me, right? I'm not worth it, you say. Well, talk to Hermione then! Or your mum!! Or that witch who sits and talks to the wall on the corner on Saturdays! Anyone, but please, don't do anyhting you'll regret. Alright?


Draco was now fully sobbing. Harry had come out and admitted his love for him, and what did he do? Stick the letter in a drawer with about twenty others. Sometimes Draco just hated himself. He picked up the letter from the floor he had recieved this morning.

I give up. You win. Whatever sick, twisted game you are playing, Draco, you win, okay? Just remember that I love, that I'll always and forever love you, no matter what. You can hate me and hurt me and call me names, throw darts at my picture, anything. I'll love you because I know who you used to be.


The letter was tear-stained and blotchy, but Draco could still read it. That's it, he thought. I'm not doing this anymore. He grabbed a small peice of parchment and a quill from his suitcase, which was sitting expectantly by the door, covered with dust. He plopped back down at his desk, inking up the quill and flatening out the parchment. He thought for a brief moment, stuck the quill tip in his mouth, then started to write:

Dearest, dear, lovely, amazing Harry,

I love you too. After all of it, everything I've put you through, you still love me, and that is why I love you. You are brave, loyal, and just generally a good person. Completely opposite of me. As they say, opposites attract, right?
I'm writing you this let you know that I can't do it anymore. Not our relationship, for that will continue as long as your heart beats, but life. It has become too hard for me to handle. I am tired, and I can't do it anymore.
Always know that I love you.


He put the quill down rolled up his letter. He clicked his tounge and his owl, Kenna, came to the desk obiediently, as though she knew she was delivering a very important letter. Draco tied the letter to her foot and told her, "This is for Harry, Kenna. He really, really needs to get this." Kenna nipped his finger lightly in response, and flew out the window. Draco sat as his desk again, but this time rolled to face the door. He lifted his wand to just above his right ear and said two words:

"Avada Kedavra."


A/N: I wrote this in memory of Michael. He is gone but will stay forever.
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For Michael Serpent

For Michael Serpent

Draco flopped unMalfoyishly into his bed, stretching languidly and yawning. Relaxed, he looked over at the aquarium, sitting in its own table by his bed.

The aquarium was four feet long, two feet deep, and two and a half feet tall. It held a green marble water bowl that filled the far left quarter of the tank, a few small trees that provided shade, and a shelter that covered on corner. A light was set up on one end, and Draco leaned over to check the temperature at each end of the aquarium, and the humidity in the middle.

A range of 19-24°C was acceptable for bedtime, and the humidity was perfect. Draco took the lid off the cage, the attached light coming off with it. He reached in and pulled the shelter away from the corner and taking out the snake that resided within.

He was a charcoal corn snake, almost four and a half feet long. He had been with Draco for the entire five years Draco had been at Hogwarts, and for his entire life, so he knew and trusted Draco’s scent. His name was Draeconis, and he caterpillared up Draco’s arm and around his neck and shoulders, flicking his tongue out over Draco’s neck.

“Hey, Draeco,” Draco whispered. Draeconis was silent, as expected, and Draco laid a hand on his smooth, cool scales. Corns were narrow, but long, as far as pet snakes went, and Draeconis was no exception. He wrapped once and a half around Draco’s shoulders, then slid down to fit himself around Draco’s waist twice.

“Ahh, no, Draeconis. It’s bedtime. We’re not going anywhere tonight. Come on.” Draco ran his hand along Draeconis’ underside, loosening the snake and holding him in both hands, lowering him slowly back into the cage. He stroked the snake’s cool back and fitted the lid back onto the cage, switching the light off and plunging the room into darkness.

He slipped between his satin sheets, cool like Draeconis’ scales, and spoke softly to the snake. “I don’t know, Draeconis. It’s… strange.” He sighed deeply, grey eyes glinting in the dim light. “He was always there, I guess. As long as you’ve been—and you know how I’d feel if I lost you.” He lightly brushed his knuckles against the glass of the aquarium. “But he was never close—in fact, I hated him.

“And then…” Draco swallowed hard. “And then he died. He died saving me—and not just me, either, everyone.” He pressed the back of his palm against the glass. “Just like that.

“The Dark Lord killed him, remember? He wasn’t aiming for him, though. He was aiming for me. A filthy blood traitor, he called me, and so did my—so did Lucius. He was going to kill me, and instead, he killed Potter.

“Because Potter got in the way. The last Horcrux, in his scar… it was gone after that, and he was just a normal man—albeit, a little more powerful than most.

“They call me a hero, Draeconis. They call me the Boy who Triumphed. I don’t want that title—for one thing, because it’s an obvious spoof off the fucking Boy who Lived, and for another, because…

“I killed Voldemort… because he killed Potter. I didn’t care about him before. He was just always there. You know. And then he was just gone—strange the way his body disintegrated. Gone, literally dust in the wind. And suddenly there was something to miss.”

Draco rolled onto his stomach and pressed his hand flat against the glass. “The word Satan is Hebrew, for opposition. And he was—we were each other’s Satan. And without opposition…” He sighed softly. “It was so strange. I always expected to see him with his two flunkies, but I never did. They were always together after that, crying, or whispering, but always together.”

Draco sighed. “I… miss him. I guess I really cared about him, in some weird, twisted way.” He glanced to the side, and saw that Draeconis was climbing the glass wall, directly across from his hand.

“He’s dead, Draeconis,” Draco whispered. “Harry Potter is dead. And I… I never even knew him.”

(no subject)

I have not written in a long time but it would be plain wrong of me not dedicate a fic to Michael Serpent. We first started e-mailing to each other when he had just published the first chapters of The Golden Snitch.

Michael, this is for you. Thank you for chatting with me on MSN, beta-ing for me and for encouraging me to write fan fiction.

Olet yksi parhaimmista kirjoittajista joihin olen törmännyt. Sääli ettei tavattu Turun turuilla. Jotenkin kummallista ajatella että muutaman kuukauden päästä tulen kulkemaan samoilla koulukäytävillä kuin sinä. Heh, fani ihkuttaa fan fiction-maailmansa idolia.


Draco's Locomotive.

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[This is kind of personal, and I know that it is stated that we are not to rant on about how sorry we are. However, I view this more of an essay/speech .. if this is wrong, please, by all means, take it off, and I'm sorry for the inconvenience.]

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