subplot prose makes me happy.
Tseep. Tseep tseep.
He was laying on his back, hands behind his head and one leg crossed over the other, curtains drawn on his four poster, a book hovering above him as he read silently from it. It was detailing some tragic yet hilarious events that have happened when wizards did not completely clean the cauldron before brewing a new potion in it. It was half comedy, half cautionary tale.
But this noise kept taking his attention from it, tseep tseep close by.
Finally the book snapped shut as he went for it with his hand, tossing it to the end of his bed and making quick work of the curtain. His head tilted towards the sound, which grew more urgent as he took a peak under his own bed.
His face was lit by the glow of small coloured lights that danced on his mildly surprised expression.
The fairy eggs he had collected had hatched early!
With two hands, he grabbed the small glass tank and sat with it on his bed. Carefully, he turned it round and round until he had counted them all: 6 pink, 6 green, 3 blue, and 2 yellow, a total of 17 fairy larvae. He did the quick math: that would give him a harvest of 34 fairy wings for potions!
They had already eaten through about all of the leaves he had put inside of the tank, so he shrunk the whole scene and pocketed it, making his way outside near the black lake.
He stood under that tree he had first collected them from, which was alive with that same tseep tseep sound, and near covered with other tiny, colourful, crawling caterpillars.
Now, Draco knew his shit when it came to potions. But he wasn't so good with caring for magical creatures.
He started collecting the leaves, putting them into his messenger bag. When it was full, he figured he may as well grab a few extra caterpillars while he was here.
As he went for one with two fingers, a large pink fairy came at him, shrieking loudly, using her simple brand of magic to sting him like a bee. He booked it for the castle, nearly tripping over himself, her small strikes of lightning hitting him in the back of the head as he bolted.
He was laying on his back, hands behind his head and one leg crossed over the other, curtains drawn on his four poster, a book hovering above him as he read silently from it. It was detailing some tragic yet hilarious events that have happened when wizards did not completely clean the cauldron before brewing a new potion in it. It was half comedy, half cautionary tale.
But this noise kept taking his attention from it, tseep tseep close by.
Finally the book snapped shut as he went for it with his hand, tossing it to the end of his bed and making quick work of the curtain. His head tilted towards the sound, which grew more urgent as he took a peak under his own bed.
His face was lit by the glow of small coloured lights that danced on his mildly surprised expression.
The fairy eggs he had collected had hatched early!
With two hands, he grabbed the small glass tank and sat with it on his bed. Carefully, he turned it round and round until he had counted them all: 6 pink, 6 green, 3 blue, and 2 yellow, a total of 17 fairy larvae. He did the quick math: that would give him a harvest of 34 fairy wings for potions!
They had already eaten through about all of the leaves he had put inside of the tank, so he shrunk the whole scene and pocketed it, making his way outside near the black lake.
He stood under that tree he had first collected them from, which was alive with that same tseep tseep sound, and near covered with other tiny, colourful, crawling caterpillars.
Now, Draco knew his shit when it came to potions. But he wasn't so good with caring for magical creatures.
He started collecting the leaves, putting them into his messenger bag. When it was full, he figured he may as well grab a few extra caterpillars while he was here.
As he went for one with two fingers, a large pink fairy came at him, shrieking loudly, using her simple brand of magic to sting him like a bee. He booked it for the castle, nearly tripping over himself, her small strikes of lightning hitting him in the back of the head as he bolted.