𝑆𝐴𝑉𝐼𝑁𝐺 𝐷𝑅𝐴𝐶𝑂 𝑀𝐴𝐿𝐹𝑂𝑌

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟒𝟏 - 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

╭────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────╮

The chapter can be read without having watched the film. Because I know most of you might not have, I have included some scenes that I recommend watching – just to have some context on what we are talking about and because they are going to give you chills even with zero context. (Also, the film is a masterpiece. Go watch it. I said go!)

⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼

Disclaimer: in this chapter, I draw a vague parallel between the Nazis and the Death Eaters on the basis that they both target a specific group based on their own supremacy. I do not in any way believe that Nazis and Death Eaters are exactly the same, nor do I think that the actions of the Death Eaters in the original books by JKR are nearly as horrifying or atrocious as the crimes against humanity that were committed by the Nazis.

The purpose of the parallel that will be drawn here will serve as an educational niche in Draco's story. While writing, I imagined what he might think and what conclusions he might draw by being exposed to muggle history. Personally, if I were him, I would see similarities between bloodism and anti-Semitism. That is the purpose of the chapter; not to equate the two.

As always, the comments are and will remain a safe space for everyone.

⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼⎼

𝐎

December 24th, 1996

Dear Margot,

Christmas Eves with you would have been taken over by the recital. The first time we both had solos, we got to the theatre early to warm up on stage. All the younger dancers arrived with their snowflake costumes at the recommended time and thought we were two ethereal prima ballerinas who had done this so many times and owned a hundred pairs of legwarmers. We did own a few, to be fair. It was the first time we had our own dressing room and we found a way to plug in the vanity mirror, so we could do our hair and makeup like we were in some sort of old film about legends of the stage. You were the best with high buns, Margot.

And then when it was all over, our parents were waiting for us with flowers and hugs, again, like we were in the Royals or the Bolshoi and we had just finished our premiere. We always went home tired, stretched and watched a silly, festive film with a bucket of popcorn and slept early.

Good times.

I came to see your shows every time I was back from Hogwarts. You were only beginning in the Academy, so you were still in the corps. I always wanted to surprise you backstage with white roses (your favourites) but they never let me in. And you stopped eating the popcorn while watching the film afterwards. And you were always overworked, so you never saw the ending, however predictable it might have always been.

So today, on this Christmas Eve, looking at the slowly darkening sky is especially depressing. It's the first Christmas Eve I will spend without you, Margot, and it feels like some sort of blasphemy, some sort of sin. I am wondering where you are, Margot, and how different things are going to be from now on that I have no one to admire on the stage or applaud or buy flowers for every Christmas Eve.

Thing is, Margot, I don't know why Dray was sad today, but I was too. So I needed a sad movie as well...

And although we were already halfway to Arsenal Station, Dray had stopped in his tracks in a bloodist tantrum and was demanding details.

"So, you're telling me it's like theatre but without actors actually playing in front of you? That is the worst idea I've heard in ages. It is like taking the essence off of theatre. It's taking its immediacy away. Do you still insist on going to this absurd two-dimensional muggle performance?"