A Writer's Tale

If I were a painter
I would paint my reverie
If that's the only way for you to be with me
"Painter Song" Norah Jones

~~~~~

You wouldn't know it to look at him. In fact, very few of the people even in his own house had any idea. He would show his work to a very privileged few. And privileged they were, because Draco was an amazing writer. He had been making up stories since before he could write them down, and when he learned to do that, his talent grew along with his passion. Where he got his knack for the written word was anyone's guess, but one could assume that most of the influence and support came from Nana Grace.

Narcissa had never wanted any children. Naturally, this fact had mattered very little once Lucius had made up his mind about having a proper heir. Nine months later, Narcissa had fulfilled the only real motherly duty she took upon herself and gave birth to a beautiful baby boy. Just after Draco was born, Narcissa once again took up her post as entertainer extraordinaire. She hosted parties that the Queen would have honored an invite to. This was where she felt the most comfortable, where she belonged. Who would want to be stuck in a room somewhere in the middle of the night coddling a screaming infant when they could be dining on caviar with England's most elite?

It hardly surprised anyone to hear that Draco was not really raised by his parents. Most assume that house elves or servants were responsible for his up-bringing, hence his extreme emotional distance. It is this part of the story that people most often get mixed up. Draco was, in fact, raised by Grace Elder, a nanny who had already had 47 years' experience taking care of children when Lucius hired her, before Draco was even born.

Grace Elder--Nana Grace, as Draco called her ("that nanny" to the other occupants of Malfoy Manor)--had taken to Draco right away. Anyone who loved babies would have been absolutely defenseless against Draco when he was that young. He was a beautiful infant, with that legendary pale skin that seemed to absorb the pigment around it, barely-there white hair, and almost too big, too silver eyes. His coo was light and content, fully confident in his security. A very happy baby, Draco almost never cried, but when he did, no one but Nana Grace could calm him down, as he had very quickly attached himself to Nana Grace as well.

Every child in the wizarding world grew up with bedtime stories of the same boy. Harry Potter. Not only was he the savior of the entire world, but he was simply a favorite character in many fairy tales. He was not some journalist who was really an alien with superpowers. He was a boy, just like all the little boys in the world that asked their mommies and daddies to tell them another story about Harry Potter before they drifted off to dream about saving the world themselves.

No one knew who he was, where he was, or what he was like, so they could mold Harry Potter into whatever they wanted him to be at the time. A decent story-teller could paint quite a picture on a canvas that broad. Draco was very lucky to have just such an imagination in Nana Grace. He was entertained daily by tales of Harry fighting off pirates, protecting schoolmates from bullies, and once, even saving Christmas.

It only made sense that when, at the ripe ago of 9, Draco began to take his writing seriously, many of his tales featured Harry Potter in the roll he had been fulfilling his whole life already, the hero. With Draco at the helm, he could turn Harry into whatever he wanted. Draco wrote Harry just as he had always known him, as a savior, a protector, a superhero, only really indulging the character to add one key trait. He was, of course, Draco's best friend.

***

It was like any normal day. Harry and Draco were eating lunch in the dining hall at school when the mean Buster Bingsley came up to their table and tried to pick a fight with Draco.

"Hey, Malfoy. You and me, behind the main building, three o'clock. I'll wipe that smirk off your face," said Buster, massaging his fist.

"I'll be there, and so will my smirk," Draco answered bravely.

Harry stood up and looked at Buster threateningly. "Listen, Bingsley. When school gets out today, you are going to go right home, just like normal. Got me?"

Buster looked scared, but answered, "We'll see about that, Potter."

"Yeah, we will."

After school, Draco walked to the back of the building, where Buster had said to meet. Harry went with him.

"Are you ready, Malfoy?" Buster asked.

"Always," replied Malfoy.

Buster ran at Draco quickly, and Malfoy punched him. He was fighting well, and nearly won, when two of Buster's friends jumped in and started hitting and punching Draco. Just when things were looking really bad for Draco, Harry jumped in and pulled them all off of Draco. He knocked them all out.

"Thanks, Harry. I don't know what I'd have done. Lousy cheats."

"Yeah, well, that's what you get for fighting dirty."