Author's Note:
So I recently wrote a fic for Frank. Haven't posted yet. And then got this competition. And wow, it was a pleasure to write.
And the ideas were wild.
I didn't imagine it to turn out like this, but I am glad. :D
She had always loved reading.
Short stories, poems, novels, essays. Writing of any and every kind was her favorite.
Art and music weren't for her.
Art never caught her attention. She could never understand the appeal of the visual picture. Because the power of words were much greater than any Mona Lisa. Her parents had brought her to see the famous woman on her tenth birthday. But all she saw was just a woman smiling. She didn't see the reason behind her smile. She didn't see the beautiful descriptions of her smile. She yearned for them. The descriptors. The story behind her.. The story behind her mysterious smile. She needed to see the words. She needed to feel the words. And most important of all, she had to envision the beauty in her mind. The beauty that only words would bring justice to.
She didn't like music either. No matter how good a song sounded, it would all faded away eventually. Her parents owned records. They put it on, and danced sometimes. She loved watching them flow and dance. But she knew it would stop. It always did. And then her Dad would go back and put a new record on. But she didn't have to stop. She never had to stop. If she reached the end, all she did was turn back to the start or just bury herself in a new book. She would never sigh when the end came. She would never complain about it stopping just when they got to the good part, because it never ended until it was supposed to end. That was the beauty of a book.
Art and music would always lose to words.
Books had always been her companion. From the first time her mother read a nursery rhyme to her to the time she could read on her own.
All books were equal, but paperback books had a special place in her heart. They had a magical quality to them that just grabbed her attention. The soft cover, the light weight, the way she could bend it back, and how it would never ever break. It might have marks, but it would never break.
She wished she was a paperback book.
Her friends never understood her. And children could be mean. They sometimes said words that hurt, and then revelledin the hurt they caused. She didnt want to hurt anymore. And that was when she hurt them. She had never wanted to, never meant to. It had been an accident. So, she never went out for break times. She never sat by the trees to read her paperback books. She never talked to the rest.
The day she got a letter to Hogwarts was the best day of her life. It explained everything.
The train ride showed her that kids everywhere were the same. He said his name was Malfoy. She said her name was Black. Together, they destroyed her book. With one thin stick, they destroyed her everything. And she didn't say a word. She just knew that she needed to be stronger. That she couldn't be like a paperback book.
They were too weak.
Paperback books looked like they would never break, but almost anything could destroy them. Fire, water, strong winds, magic, people. Almost everything. Or that's what it seemed like anyway. They were actually fragile. Very fragile.
She stopped that day. She stopped reading her paperback books that day.
She was a Ravenclaw. Book lovers. She found so many book lovers. People like her. People who understood her love of books. They might not be as deeply obsessed with books as her, but they tried to understand her. And that was what mattered.
She read. A lot. But she would never touch a paperback book. They were weak. It was a good thing most of the texts for her classes were in hardcover format.
One day she saw him.
He was sitting near the Black Lake, reading. He was normal looking. Dark, curly hair, a round face, with eyes that were firmly fixed on the book in front of him. He never looked up as she approached him.
She had to say something. "They are weak." She could slap herself. She sounded like she was crazy. And even she could sense it.
"What?" He asked, turning clear eyes to her. "Paperback books are weak," she whispered.
He stared at her for a long time, then the confusion smoothed out. "No, they are not."
Before she could disagree, he continued, "They are just..Vulnerable."
"Hardcover books have the protection due to the hard cover. But paperback books don't have any such thing. They are vulnerable. They are brave enough to be vulnerable."
"All books are fragile. But paperback books are more fragile than hardcover books. You got it wrong. They are not weak. They are strong. They are brave."
She blinked at him. No one had ever understood what she meant when she talked about books. But he got it.
He understood.
She felt her gaze become watery.
"Hey, hey, don't cry. I'm sorry." He sounded so worried and panicked that she almost laughed. She didnt laugh, but at least her crying had stopped.
She hurriedly wiped her face with her palms, drying her wet hands on her robes.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"No problem," he smiled. That was when she realized they were face to face and he had been worried about her.
"I used to love paperback books. Until Malfoy and Black burnt it. Then I thought they were weak. They had no protection." She spoke through the congestion in her nose.
"I probably don't make a lot of sense. I just... Love books a lot." She said, letting out a short laugh.
He smiled warmly at her. "I understand. I feel the same way. We don't need anything. 'Cause we have books. And paperback books are strong. They dare to face the world without any protection. They are willing to put themselves out there." His gaze was serious, like he needed her to understand this.
She nodded. She understood. They loved books. Every book, and everything about a book.
"I am Frank by the way." He said, with a shy smile.
"Alice," she said, knowing he was someone special.