Velvet and other stories

[Sphi]

It's not uncommon for me to sit down and start writing a new fanfic or short story with absolutely no intention of finishing. Except this time I did finish one. I kept coming back and editing it and adding to it for some reason. I'm still not sure if I'm completely happy with what I have. But here's the result. It's a very short, rather pointless HP fanfic with the usual main character. I'd appreciate any comments, positive or negative.

To be honest, I don't know if there are going to be "other stories." I just put it there in case I ever find some sort of motivation to keep writing (and finishing).

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Velvet

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Draco sat down on the couch--oh, dear Lord, is that velvet?--maroon in colour. He wasn't quite sure what he was getting himself into, but he knew it was too late to turn back. He had crossed the Rubicon and was finding out just how cold the water could get.

Turning his head just slightly, as if moving too much would set off some nonexistent alarm, he scanned the large room. It was very much empty; even the regal tapestries on the walls were vacant. Every so often, he had to push the hood of his cloak back, just so that his eyes weren't completely covered. Although he knew there were advantages to hiding his eyes at times, he didn't like the feeling of not being in control of his surroundings.

These surroundings, in particular, were especially foreign. The maroon tapestries were great voids into a fantastic world he'd rather avoid. There were also long candlesticks grasping onto the stone walls, and in Draco's unique perspective, each one looked like a thin, boney finger with a golden flame at the end. He narrowed his eyes at each one in succession. If it hadn't been for the quiet footsteps that started to pad their way down the spiral stairway behind him, Draco would have whipped out his wand and waged war on the cursed candles.

The footsteps distracted him just in the nick of time. Draco didn't turn around to face the source of the slowly approaching footsteps. He didn't need to. He knew perfectly well who the new arrival was.

A voice trailed over to Draco, filled with unwelcomed words.

"I figured you'd choose that seat."

There was no immediate response as Draco pushed the hood of his cloak back again. He still didn't turn around, but he had a violent urge to. What was that supposed to mean anyways? As the thought ran through his mind, he wasn't aware of the curvy path his hand was tracing on the velvet seat.

There was no delayed response either. The air was teeming of prickly needles, and they both felt it. Yet the voice from behind decided to continue, for whatever reason.

"You know, velvet is a symbol of luxury and beauty to most people..." The string of words trailed off into oblivion, lost somewhere in between sarcasm and anxiety.

After another odd moment, he spoke, still lingering somewhere in his own world. "I haven't got anything, you know. It's not my manor. None of it's mine. ...And I don't want it. Tell them they can rot away their lives in that cavernous wasteland if they'd like, but I won't be with them. I'll make something of myself on my own."

A blink. Words could've been spoken, but they remained silent. There was no need for them to come out into the light.

He didn't say a word. He didn't move in the slightest. There was only a soft rustle at that moment, for the stranger was stepping closer towards the velvet couch upon which sat a motionless young man. A young man who simply let the cloak drop over his eyes.[/color]

[Will]

Though I’m not completely positive on what’s going on, I’d have to say that I like this piece. I can picture the large room he’s in, the decor and the brilliant maroon, gold colors. Oh I love the words your chose to describe everything, it was great. And although could pick out quite a few quotes I likes, somehow this one sentence stuck out. ‘"You know, velvet is a symbol of luxury and beauty to most people..." The string of words trailed off into oblivion, lost somewhere in between sarcasm and anxiety.’ I’m not sure why I like it so much.

[Sphi]

Eh, that's okay. I sorta wrote it that way on purpose; no one really knows what's going on. Thanks for reading it anyways, Willow dear. I've been told that several times about my writing: my rhetoric's good but my message/process isn't clear. Do you think it would be better for me to actually create a story behind it, or is there merit when each reader must create his own story? And just curious...did any story form in your head?

[Will]

Now why wouldn’t I read it?

Let’s see here. When I first started reading it I pictured the room you described, debating whether or not it was a fancy restaurant… Which I have come to believe that it’s not? I don’t know; I saw Draco picking the velvet seat and then someone startling him? Apparently they know each other. The rest is a bit vague to me.

No, I don’t think you should write another story just so this becomes understandable. I see why you wrote it this way. Or at least I think I know why. In a way, it sets the mood of the story. It would be nice if you could explain it though.

Hmmm... Wait a minute. Something about the Malfoy Manor not being his? I'm guessing this is an older Draco. "...make something of myself on my own." Does it have anything to do with Draco not wanting to be a Death Eater?

Cold? Warm? Right on the dot? ((Which I doubt.))

[Sphi]

Oh, really? I thought the setting was pretty clear, but of course I already know what it is. I never intended the setting to be a problem, but rather the identity of the "stranger." To be honest, there really is no answer to who it is, or what's going on, so I can't really explain anything. At first, I did have a more clear-cut story in mind, but then I changed it on purpose. I didn't like the original story.

I did have a few things set in my mind, which I guess aren't as apparent as I thought. Like I said, the setting is a definite place, or at least it was supposed to be. I was hoping the maroon and gold would hint towards it. Therefore, you'd know Draco's approximate age. You basically got the meaning behind Draco's words, though. It's not stated explicitely that he doens't want to be a Death Eater, but it's obviously something like that. He's a rebellious little thing.

[Will]

Maroon and gold... obviously my brain isn’t functioning as well as I’d like. I’m drawing a blank here. I have just survived a math test and I'm drained.

Anyway the only time that light bulb turned on for me was when the words "Rubicon" and "water" appeared in the beginning. I figured he was somewhere in Italy or at least he had gone past Italy…

Heehee. Rebellious little thing.

[Sphi]

Okay, I'll just tell you. I guess my intentions weren't as clear as I thought. The setting is supposed to be the Gryffindor Common Room. Red and gold...get it? That would mean Draco is still at Hogwarts. The Rubicon thing wasn't supposed to be hinting towards Italy; I was using it as an expression.

I get the feeling that this isn't a very effective piece.

[Will]

-slaps forehead-

The Gryffindor common room? I was picturing some sort of extravagant ballroom or restaurant, luxurious and screaming with wealth. I guess my imagination went a bit too far? Draco just seemed so mature and therefore lead me to believe he’s all grown up…

Ah yes, an expression… I get it.

So I've read it over a second time with the info you've just provided and it makes more sense.... I can play the images in my head and see what's going on.

[Sphi]

Okay, I guess that's good. But I don't know how effective a story can be if it requires so much explanation. And it's not even like this story has a huge message behind it or anything.

[En]

Hm-m. I definitely got the Gryffindor thing, but I wasn't sure whether this was like -- Dumbledore's residence, or Harry's future home, or something like that. I like that he got freaked out at the candles, though I wonder if that part could do with a bit of expansion? Maybe you could use them as an excuse to expose where Draco is -- he could think something about how it was ridiculous to feel threatened by mere candles in such an innocuous place as the Gryff Commons, but they reminded him of other uses not so pleasant? I mean, obviously not that blatant, but... you know.

Er-m- the pushing back the hood thing -- I don't know if that was intentionally feminine-erotic, but it could be taken that way with very little effort. Was that deliberate?

The rhetoric is good, and the images very strong. But I'm kind of lost about what's happening, too. While I generally believe, as a devout Reader Response type critic, that everyone has different readings of a text, I'm not sure that it helps to leave some things unclear. The identity of the speaker could be left unclear for a while, but we need enough clues to spark debate about who it is. Not saying you didn't give us enough, just as a point of storytelling.

From the colours, I presume it is a Gryffindor, and from the "curvy path" I would surmise it is a female, and then we have the discussion about luxury, which makes me think it would be amusing if it were Ginny... wouldn't it be ironic if Draco were disinherited and left even poorer than a Weasley?

It is a good short character piece, though it might do with a bit more exposition if you feel like revising it or adding to it. Soo... when do we get to read more?

[Sphi]

I almost forgot that I wrote this.

I know if this had been for some school assignment or something, I would've done horribly. It's pretty clear that I didn't develop anything in the story; even Draco's character isn't developed very well. But while I was writing it, it didn't really matter who the other person was. In fact, I intentionally made sure I gave no hints as to who s/he might be, although for some reason, I had the feeling that most people would assume it's Ginny. It doesn't really even matter where the setting is. I was just trying to concentrate on Draco's character and show how he's rather paranoid and shielding himself from everything around him (so that makes it a character piece?). That's why I sorta put an emphasis on the cloak motif, although I think I didn't do it as effectively as I could have. By the end, Draco allows himself to be vulnerable to this one person. The rest, in effect, I leave to the readers' imaginations.

Feminine erotic? I definitely didn't intend to put any of that in...considering I don't even know what you mean by that. What do you mean?

(The curvy path is actually what Draco is drawing with his own hand. It has nothing to do with the second person. ...When I think about it, I'm not sure why I put that in there.)

Where should I go from here? I could try to add/change this one to make it a real story, with actual characters and plots. Or I could just leave this one alone and try something different.

[En]

Hm. I am definitely a supporter of the Rube Goldberg theory of writing -- it may look like it's too weird to reuse, but you can always work it into something.

The scene has power, tone and descriptive material; therefore keep it, and you may find yourself cannibalising bits of it later, or even working up to it unconsciously in a later fic. Or develop it. Either would be interesting; but I guess I'm curious what else you'd write about. This thread can be woven back in

See, the thing with the cloak... that was really vivid for me. Not too subtle at all. I was very aware of the cloak, and I wanted very badly to understand why he let it drop. That was at the heart of the mystery for me. Nevermind about the eroticness then. We can talk about it later

The curvy path thing: watch those unintentional bits then It very definitely added a feminine detail to the story for me, and while I'm weird, I don't think that one is that weird Maybe it's because of the title. I walked into the piece thinking a lot about Draco and the velvet and why the velvet would be a focal point.

Have you done any more scenes like this? Draco's obviously a character you enjoy working with -- who else appears in your fics?

Mostly just -- please write more

[Sphi]

I did try to make the cloak thing clear at the beginning, but I didn't expect people to pay attention to it until the end. I guess I just can't put anything past you. This was basically my explanation within the story:

"Every so often, he had to push the hood of his cloak back, just so that his eyes weren't completely covered. Although he knew there were advantages to hiding his eyes at times, he didn't like the feeling of not being in control of his surroundings."

So when Draco lets the cloak fall over his eyes at the end, he's letting himself be vulnerable to his surroundings, but more importantly, to that one person...whoever s/he is in the reader's mind. Is that too obvious or boring? It probably could've stood for something more, and pretty sure you were hoping for something more, but that's all I've got.

Eh, I guess I added all those "unintentional" feminine bits because I was hoping some people would construe this into a slash piece, even though it doesn't necessarily have to be. I like to write semi-slash pieces like that, where it could be slash, but there's never any explicit proof either way. I've written another piece like that, and the one person I've showed it to thought it was slash. I tried to deny it.

I haven't written many fanfics lately. My full-blown OotP fanfic failed a long time ago, obviously, but that would've included, like, all the character possible, plus some original ones. My shorter fics have included Quidditch peoples (Oliver Wood, Weasleys, Katie Bell, etc.), Harry, Ron, Draco, Dumbledore...I think that's it. I don't particularly like any of shorter fics, though. At first I'll like what I have down, but when I read them now, I don't like them anymore.

[Sphi]

*glances around* Okay, I'm going to post this, but I honestly don't think it's very good. I wrote almost all of it today in about two hours for a contest. Totally different style from Velvet, just so you know. And the basis of the story is really obvious, which makes it lame, in my opinion. Read it if you'd like, but don't expect too much.

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The Judgment in Paris

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The trees rustled pleasantly, and the sunny rays bathed the verdant, Parisian grass in golden delight. Birds of all sorts chirped harmoniously, much like a cheerful chorus at a wedding ceremony.

If asked, anyone nearby would have nodded his head and murmured in agreement: it was the perfect day for a dog show.

But this wasn’t just any dog show. This highly-anticipated competition—sponsored by Peter and Theresa, a dog-loving, newly-wed couple—would soon attract thousands of proud trainers and their faithful canine companions. The winners would go home smiling and proud. The losers—or ever worse, those who were never invited to attend the event to begin with—would feel nothing short of worthlessness and a burning desire for revenge.

This was just the case with a young, fiery woman named Erin. Because of her Pit Bull’s apparent inability to control himself, Erin was banned from attending Peter and Theresa’s dog show. But without a doubt, everyone who did hold a good reputation in the world of dog training was there in the largest, most luxurious park in Paris, France, that sunny afternoon. The best duos of master and best friend gathered, flourishing golden collars, trimmed claws, and polka-dot bows.

If Peter and Theresa’s occasion had been less publicized, less anticipated, maybe Erin wouldn’t have been so angered. Instead, Erin felt a fury burning inside of her and decided to sneak into the competition anyways, opting to leave her irrepressible canine friend at home so that she would go unnoticed. What she did bring was most peculiar, though: a single dog treat, aptly shaped like a bone, on which the words “To the fairest dog” were carved. If I cannot leave my mark in this competition respectably, thought Erin sinisterly, I will do so notoriously.

As angry as ever for being excluded from the excitement, Erin snuck into the Parisian park right in the middle of the competition. At that moment, three dogs in particular stood out from the crowd. One was a King Charles Spaniel named June; she seemed to be an intelligent dog with a regal touch as she held her head up high and, with her stunning green eyes, observed the other dogs with the slightest hint of suspicion. The second was a German Shepard by the name of Di; she was a keen hunter and guard dog, and at one time she had been trained to courageously to sniff out landmines in battle zones. Last but not least was a gorgeous Collie called Love. Love’s hair, although high-maintenance, was long and shiny, and her face was chiseled and sleek. Everyone gazed admiringly at Love, but the audience was equally amazed by June’s regality and by Di’s hunting skills.

Nevertheless, Erin didn’t let the remarkable gifts of these three dogs distract her from the task at hand. With a cold smile on her face, she tossed the engraved bone into the throng of dogs that were awaiting another examination for this competition. The unexpected surprise stole the attention of the three dogs in the lead. Immediately, June, Di, and Love dashed out, eyes fixed passionately on the enticing treat; their demure, obedient natures had disappeared as quickly as an apple falls from a tree.

As this was a great disturbance in the order of the dog show, the masters of June, Di, and Love had to rush out to stop their tempted canine friends. Nonetheless, the three dogs had already been infected by a yearning; they all desired the bone. Their owners simply thought the three dogs were hungry and eager for a treat, but it was deeper than that. The dogs could sense the honor hidden in the bone. Each of the dogs had a personal mission to prove that she was the finest dog in Paris.

Sitting in front on two adjacent seats, Peter and Theresa shifted nervously, watching the dogs chase the prize and, in turn, the masters chasing their dogs. The couple had hoped this dog show would run smoothly, but Fate seemed to be turning her head away from their cares. In fact, their concern was so great that they, like everyone else in the park, never even stopped to wonder who threw the bone; Erin, who was very much enjoying the troubles she had aroused, simply hid behind a nearby tree, snickering.

To settle this matter, the loving couple scanned the surroundings of the park and simultaneously spotted a young gentleman in a nice suit sitting under a tree while plucking idly at the grass and watching the animals nearby. They resolved to let this gentleman decide which of these three dogs most deserved the bone, since they themselves didn’t want to be held accountable should the other two dogs and their respective owners felt cheated or disappointed.

The young man, who called himself Pierre and was the son of an important businessman in the distant town of Très, did not hesitate to lend a hand, as he was doing nothing particularly important in the first place. He casually walked up to the three outstanding dogs and each one, in turn, trotted up to him.

June approached first, still holding her head up high. The King Charles Spaniel did a few proud, powerful tricks, causing Pierre to applaud happily. Then it was Di’s chance to prove herself. She first dashed out into the forest across the busy street and in just a moment’s time, she returned, unharmed and with a rabbit in her mouth. Pierre was astonished and applauded the German Shepard as well, a little more enthusiastically.

Finally, Love the Collie promenaded gracefully over to the young Frenchman and sat down at his feet. She then flashed her pearly, photographic grin and wagged her tail. When Pierre took one look at the beautiful dog, he declared, loud and clear, “I choose this dog! I choose Love, for she has amazed me with her promises of beauty and elegance!”

The crowd was in an uproar. Some were cheering for the stunning dog, while others shouted and demanded another opinion. Love simply continued her gait over to the inscribed bone and gobbled it up before returning to Pierre to thank him by licking his hand. Di watched enviously as Love licked Pierre’s hand in gratitude.

But more intense were June’s green eyes, which suddenly blazed brighter than before. As her master, a little despondent, joined her canine companion and began to lead her away, June continued to stare backwards toward the unjust scene. June would not soon forget Pierre’s judgment.

Smirking, Erin fled the tumultuous scene—teeming with resentment, suspicion, and jealousy—unaware of the extent of damage her vengeful plot would soon bring.
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