Mr. & Mrs. Smith blurb
Title: [Title Pending]
Rating: N/A
Genre: Action/Adventure, Humor
Characters: Draco/Ginny
Summary: “Since when had the Death Eaters become the wizarding mafia?," she demanded. At the mention of Death Eaters his eyes flashed with hatred. He pointed his wand at her. "Since when had the Order?" he spat.
Author's Note: Blurb
It was when she heard the pop! of one’s appration in the third study, followed by the thundering of feet sounding through the manor that she knew that he was home. While his footsteps were loud, crashing, and violent, she remained calm in a rather masochistic way. She hoped he would find her, sitting placidly in the library, a copy of Oliver Twist spread across her lap, sipping a hot mug of creamy hot chocolate. The only movement she made was of her turning the page in her book and glancing down to just double-check that her wand was sitting next to her in the seat.
He was menacingly calling out her name throughout the manor, demanding that she “make like a good wife and obey his orders.” She could just imagine his teeth gritting as it did while he slept. As he yelled and screamed, his booted feet crashing from room to room in the third and second floors of the manor, she inwardly sighed and wondered if he was actually going to tear her away from her book.
The thundering feet tramped down the main staircase and into the foyer, his shouts and curses louder than ever. This time, she actually did sigh out loud. Yes, he actually was going to tear her away from her book.
At a good part, no less.
“Do take the volume-charm from off your boots,” she said calmly, turning a page in her book, however she was not reading it anymore. She made a second double-check to make sure her wand was in her seat beside her, and continued as she heard his feet crashing into the library. “It’s loud enough to wake the neighbors, and you know how far away the next house is.”
“YOU!”
His voice echoed like the sound of a train wreck through the library. She glanced into a mirror on the wall in front of her, and saw him staring at her with a look of loathing that could have obliterated the many looks of loathing that he had given her when they were still schooling. If looks could kill, she would have died a thousand deaths. He was breathing heavily, the result of having screamed too much and stomped too hard, and his blonde hair was mussed and wild. It much reminded her of what it looked like after their first night together in Bocatoa. His pale face was a light pinkish color, however his features were still razor-sharp, as ever, his lips curled back into a snarl which showed off his sharp teeth.
“YOU!”
“Yes, I have a name,” she replied back. She pretended to be reading by flipping the page again, but kept a glance on the mirror in case he tried to do anything rash. “It’s Ginevra, in case you’ve forgotten. But I can also go by Ginny, Gin, Gin and Tonic, and sometimes Firepants, if I’m drunk enough.”
Instead of shouting “YOU!” for a third time, like she mused he would, she watched his reflection effortlessly grab a chair from the billiard table and he hurtled it at her. The few seconds it took to do this, however, was more than enough time for her to grab her wand, turn around in her chair, point it at him, and smile at him with that smug grin of hers that she usually reserved for one of her brothers when she caused one of their pranks to backfire on him
“Accio green chair!” She called, and the chair went from being hurtled at her, to being hurtled to her, stopping in front of her feet. She contemplated about propping her feet up on the chair, as it would certainly add to the smug grin she kept on her face, but knew if she turned around that she would miss the next chair thrown.
“Accio red chair!” She called again. This one landed placidly next to the green one. “Accio blue chair! Accio yellow chair!” When he ran out of chairs, she bent the corner of her page to remember of which one she was on, and sat it in the seat of the first green chair that he had attempted to throw.
She stood up and looked at the pile of chairs on her side of the room with a distasteful look, putting her hands on her hips.
“Oh no, dear,” she said casually, tisking, “Your rearrangement of the chairs completely throws off the feung shua of the room.”
"Wench!” he screeched, and began hurling the billiard balls at her. One by one, as they crossed the room, she gave her wand a swish, turning each ball as it hurled toward her into a bird. By the time he was done throwing them, there were a whole stack of multi-colored birds, which looked much like billiard balls that had grown wings, flitting around in the air.
“What are you going on about?” she snapped. He whipped out his wand and pointed it at her.
“You,” he growled. “Five million galleons. Million. That is how much you cost me tonight.”
She rolled her eyes at him. “Not like it isn’t a large chunk of your family fortune. Maybe a nice chip of it. Shard, perhaps. But it certainly isn’t putting you in debt of anything.”
This seemed to anger him even more, and this time he decided to hurl a billiard stick. He flung it like a spear, and as it approached her it spouted wings and began flitting in the air along with the balls. As it did so, it began punting the white ball-bird with its nose.
“That isn’t the point!” he cried as he hurled the billiard stick. “You cost me 5 million galleons, knowing full well that McCarthy was my man to… to…” he paused for a moment, and she assumed that he was trying to think of the right word. He found it quickly, and she immediately recognized it as a word from one of the muggle cinemas. “To whack!”
She scratched her head with the tip of her wand, turning a second billiard stick into an oddly-shaped bird. “Since when did the Death Eaters become a wizarding mafia?”
At the mention of Death Eaters, his face paled and his eyes flashed with even more (if it were possible) hatred.
“Since when had the Order?”
She froze, feeling the world spin. One of the billiard sticks was chasing the poor queue ball-bird in the air. How had he known?
“Excuse me?” She squeaked. Now it was his turn to smirk.
Rating: N/A
Genre: Action/Adventure, Humor
Characters: Draco/Ginny
Summary: “Since when had the Death Eaters become the wizarding mafia?," she demanded. At the mention of Death Eaters his eyes flashed with hatred. He pointed his wand at her. "Since when had the Order?" he spat.
Author's Note: Blurb
It was when she heard the pop! of one’s appration in the third study, followed by the thundering of feet sounding through the manor that she knew that he was home. While his footsteps were loud, crashing, and violent, she remained calm in a rather masochistic way. She hoped he would find her, sitting placidly in the library, a copy of Oliver Twist spread across her lap, sipping a hot mug of creamy hot chocolate. The only movement she made was of her turning the page in her book and glancing down to just double-check that her wand was sitting next to her in the seat.
He was menacingly calling out her name throughout the manor, demanding that she “make like a good wife and obey his orders.” She could just imagine his teeth gritting as it did while he slept. As he yelled and screamed, his booted feet crashing from room to room in the third and second floors of the manor, she inwardly sighed and wondered if he was actually going to tear her away from her book.
The thundering feet tramped down the main staircase and into the foyer, his shouts and curses louder than ever. This time, she actually did sigh out loud. Yes, he actually was going to tear her away from her book.
At a good part, no less.
“Do take the volume-charm from off your boots,” she said calmly, turning a page in her book, however she was not reading it anymore. She made a second double-check to make sure her wand was in her seat beside her, and continued as she heard his feet crashing into the library. “It’s loud enough to wake the neighbors, and you know how far away the next house is.”
“YOU!”
His voice echoed like the sound of a train wreck through the library. She glanced into a mirror on the wall in front of her, and saw him staring at her with a look of loathing that could have obliterated the many looks of loathing that he had given her when they were still schooling. If looks could kill, she would have died a thousand deaths. He was breathing heavily, the result of having screamed too much and stomped too hard, and his blonde hair was mussed and wild. It much reminded her of what it looked like after their first night together in Bocatoa. His pale face was a light pinkish color, however his features were still razor-sharp, as ever, his lips curled back into a snarl which showed off his sharp teeth.
“YOU!”
“Yes, I have a name,” she replied back. She pretended to be reading by flipping the page again, but kept a glance on the mirror in case he tried to do anything rash. “It’s Ginevra, in case you’ve forgotten. But I can also go by Ginny, Gin, Gin and Tonic, and sometimes Firepants, if I’m drunk enough.”
Instead of shouting “YOU!” for a third time, like she mused he would, she watched his reflection effortlessly grab a chair from the billiard table and he hurtled it at her. The few seconds it took to do this, however, was more than enough time for her to grab her wand, turn around in her chair, point it at him, and smile at him with that smug grin of hers that she usually reserved for one of her brothers when she caused one of their pranks to backfire on him
“Accio green chair!” She called, and the chair went from being hurtled at her, to being hurtled to her, stopping in front of her feet. She contemplated about propping her feet up on the chair, as it would certainly add to the smug grin she kept on her face, but knew if she turned around that she would miss the next chair thrown.
“Accio red chair!” She called again. This one landed placidly next to the green one. “Accio blue chair! Accio yellow chair!” When he ran out of chairs, she bent the corner of her page to remember of which one she was on, and sat it in the seat of the first green chair that he had attempted to throw.
She stood up and looked at the pile of chairs on her side of the room with a distasteful look, putting her hands on her hips.
“Oh no, dear,” she said casually, tisking, “Your rearrangement of the chairs completely throws off the feung shua of the room.”
"Wench!” he screeched, and began hurling the billiard balls at her. One by one, as they crossed the room, she gave her wand a swish, turning each ball as it hurled toward her into a bird. By the time he was done throwing them, there were a whole stack of multi-colored birds, which looked much like billiard balls that had grown wings, flitting around in the air.
“What are you going on about?” she snapped. He whipped out his wand and pointed it at her.
“You,” he growled. “Five million galleons. Million. That is how much you cost me tonight.”
She rolled her eyes at him. “Not like it isn’t a large chunk of your family fortune. Maybe a nice chip of it. Shard, perhaps. But it certainly isn’t putting you in debt of anything.”
This seemed to anger him even more, and this time he decided to hurl a billiard stick. He flung it like a spear, and as it approached her it spouted wings and began flitting in the air along with the balls. As it did so, it began punting the white ball-bird with its nose.
“That isn’t the point!” he cried as he hurled the billiard stick. “You cost me 5 million galleons, knowing full well that McCarthy was my man to… to…” he paused for a moment, and she assumed that he was trying to think of the right word. He found it quickly, and she immediately recognized it as a word from one of the muggle cinemas. “To whack!”
She scratched her head with the tip of her wand, turning a second billiard stick into an oddly-shaped bird. “Since when did the Death Eaters become a wizarding mafia?”
At the mention of Death Eaters, his face paled and his eyes flashed with even more (if it were possible) hatred.
“Since when had the Order?”
She froze, feeling the world spin. One of the billiard sticks was chasing the poor queue ball-bird in the air. How had he known?
“Excuse me?” She squeaked. Now it was his turn to smirk.