Quaint and Curious Volume II (La Onza)(4 December)
Title: A Quaint and Curious Volume II
Author: La Onza
House: Hufflepuff
Date/Challenge: 4 Dec - difficult to forget
Character/Pairing: Bertha Jorkins, Peter Pettigrew
Warning: Not sure how to warn on this one. Nastiness.
Rating: R
"You don't remember me, do you?" she asked. It fed her anger, that he had so entirely forgotten her, although it had made it easy for her to lure him away from the Inn to this desolate spot.
His eyes, half-hidden by pouches of sagging skin, flicked at her furtively. "You must be mistaken," he said.
"I'm certain that I'm not, Peter," she said, "Incarcerous." Glistening cords shot from her wand and bound him, hand to foot.
"Here's a clue for you," she said, "Florence. And another: Greenhouses."
"Hogwarts?" he gasped, "You were there?"
"Two years ahead of you," she said, "But I haven't forgotten you. I can't remember things that happened to me yesterday sometimes," she swallowed hard, forcing back tears, "But I can't forget what you did to me. All these years, I thought you were dead, and I'd never get the chance to ask you why. Why."
He was silent, waiting, at her mercy. She studied him. His once fine, light hair was now scanty and dull, the baby fat that he had never managed to lose hanging loose and shapeless around his middle. It gave her a savage satisfaction to see him so gone to seed.
Not that he had ever been much of a prize, she thought grimly. But his soft, sharp-nosed face had lost whatever charm it had once possessed.
"You put a hex on me," she said, "Just for teasing you a little about kissing Florence. It was the most awful, disgusting hex." She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to soothe herself with the comfortable familiar feel of her body.
He stared at her, then his faded watery eyes slid away. "For a bitch that walks on her hind legs," he muttered. "That was what it was called," he added quickly, as her wand came up. "Sirius had a book, that he had stolen from his father. It had all sorts of bizarre spells in it, perverted stuff. There was an illustration of that one which fascinated and horrified us."
"James Potter laughed," she recalled, her voice shaking with anger and remembered humiliation, "He said, 'If you're going to act like a bitch...'" She couldn't continue. She was gripped by the shame that she had never been able to forget, the popping and swelling in her abdomen, the six freakish breasts hanging pendulous below her own natural breasts, straining at her robes, the laughter and no place to hide.
"Well," he said, "It was like James, to see poetic justice in a cheap pun. He couldn't help what he was. None of us can."
"Is that all you can say?" her fury blazed up and blinded her for a moment...a crucial moment, as it turned out. His form collapsed in on itself and then the shimmering restraints were lying empty on the ground. Something small darted toward her and past her, and she screamed a little, involuntarily. Behind her, the fluid collapse reversed itself into a monstrous swelling, but before she could turn around, her vision went black.
When she woke, it was in a strange place, and she was the one who was bound, helpless, wandless. He sat near her, watching her with his tired, puffy eyes.
"For what it's worth," he said, not unkindly, "I do remember you. I knew who you were the instant I laid eyes on you. If you really want to know why, I'll tell you. It was because, for people to gossip about, say, the Hufflepuff Quidditch captain kissing the Ravenclaw seeker...perhaps getting a handful...people would talk about that because it was sexy. Titillating. But a fat boy kissing a fat girl? Is a joke. And that's why."
"It may not seem like a very good reason to you," he added, perhaps taking her numb stare for incredulity, "but it was my reason. That's all I can tell you. And now, I have to ask you to jog your memory a bit."
Author: La Onza
House: Hufflepuff
Date/Challenge: 4 Dec - difficult to forget
Character/Pairing: Bertha Jorkins, Peter Pettigrew
Warning: Not sure how to warn on this one. Nastiness.
Rating: R
"You don't remember me, do you?" she asked. It fed her anger, that he had so entirely forgotten her, although it had made it easy for her to lure him away from the Inn to this desolate spot.
His eyes, half-hidden by pouches of sagging skin, flicked at her furtively. "You must be mistaken," he said.
"I'm certain that I'm not, Peter," she said, "Incarcerous." Glistening cords shot from her wand and bound him, hand to foot.
"Here's a clue for you," she said, "Florence. And another: Greenhouses."
"Hogwarts?" he gasped, "You were there?"
"Two years ahead of you," she said, "But I haven't forgotten you. I can't remember things that happened to me yesterday sometimes," she swallowed hard, forcing back tears, "But I can't forget what you did to me. All these years, I thought you were dead, and I'd never get the chance to ask you why. Why."
He was silent, waiting, at her mercy. She studied him. His once fine, light hair was now scanty and dull, the baby fat that he had never managed to lose hanging loose and shapeless around his middle. It gave her a savage satisfaction to see him so gone to seed.
Not that he had ever been much of a prize, she thought grimly. But his soft, sharp-nosed face had lost whatever charm it had once possessed.
"You put a hex on me," she said, "Just for teasing you a little about kissing Florence. It was the most awful, disgusting hex." She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to soothe herself with the comfortable familiar feel of her body.
He stared at her, then his faded watery eyes slid away. "For a bitch that walks on her hind legs," he muttered. "That was what it was called," he added quickly, as her wand came up. "Sirius had a book, that he had stolen from his father. It had all sorts of bizarre spells in it, perverted stuff. There was an illustration of that one which fascinated and horrified us."
"James Potter laughed," she recalled, her voice shaking with anger and remembered humiliation, "He said, 'If you're going to act like a bitch...'" She couldn't continue. She was gripped by the shame that she had never been able to forget, the popping and swelling in her abdomen, the six freakish breasts hanging pendulous below her own natural breasts, straining at her robes, the laughter and no place to hide.
"Well," he said, "It was like James, to see poetic justice in a cheap pun. He couldn't help what he was. None of us can."
"Is that all you can say?" her fury blazed up and blinded her for a moment...a crucial moment, as it turned out. His form collapsed in on itself and then the shimmering restraints were lying empty on the ground. Something small darted toward her and past her, and she screamed a little, involuntarily. Behind her, the fluid collapse reversed itself into a monstrous swelling, but before she could turn around, her vision went black.
When she woke, it was in a strange place, and she was the one who was bound, helpless, wandless. He sat near her, watching her with his tired, puffy eyes.
"For what it's worth," he said, not unkindly, "I do remember you. I knew who you were the instant I laid eyes on you. If you really want to know why, I'll tell you. It was because, for people to gossip about, say, the Hufflepuff Quidditch captain kissing the Ravenclaw seeker...perhaps getting a handful...people would talk about that because it was sexy. Titillating. But a fat boy kissing a fat girl? Is a joke. And that's why."
"It may not seem like a very good reason to you," he added, perhaps taking her numb stare for incredulity, "but it was my reason. That's all I can tell you. And now, I have to ask you to jog your memory a bit."