Helpish meme!
Neville whimpered in the silence of the room.
“He’ll get it,” Seamus tried to reassure his dorm mate. “Harry’s the best you know.”
“And he has his Invisibility Cloak,” Dean piped up. “There’s no way he’d be caught.”
“But if he is!” Neville practically wailed. “D’you know how mad she’ll be?!”
Ron waived his hand dismissively from where he stood watch at the door. “She’s a push over.”
“That’s not what you said yesterday,” Neville moaned.
Seamus and Dean snorted a laugh from where they lounged on Harry’s trunk.
“Yes well, that was yesterday,” Ron blustered. “She was right scary yesterday. The woman intimidates me more than Hermione.”
Seamus whispered something to Dean who laughed and nodded enthusiastically.
The room fell into a tense silence broken only by Neville’s nervous shifting and the occasional whisper by Dean and Seamus. Ron stood as still as stone at the door, his eye never leaving the corridor beyond.
Minutes passed before Ron tensed. “Shh!”
A breeze blew past Ron and Harry materialized out of thin air. “Close the door,” he whispered. “Quick."
Ron shut the door quickly but silently. Harry threw his cloak onto his bed and the boys gathered around.
“Did you get it?” Neville asked excitedly, his earlier trepidation and concern suddenly forgotten in the face of success.
“Yeah. It was right where she left it,” Harry replied sitting cross legged on the floor next to his trunk. Seamus and Dean slid off the trunk and the boys sat in a circle. “Now let me warn you. We only have a night with this. I have to return it before tomorrow morning otherwise Lavender will put up a stink and it’ll be harder to return.”
Seamus, Dean, Ron and Neville nodded solemnly.
*~*~*~*~*~*~
This one I began as a prompt for someone, but I forgot which one and even if I did remember, I don't have any idea where this could go. Remember, I suck at angst. Does anyone have any ideas? Please?
~~~~~~~~~~~
It all started out innocently enough, as most stories do. Boy meets girl, boy falls in love with girl, girl falls in love with boy who happens NOT to be the boy who met the girl, boy finds out, fights ensue, wars break out, plates are shattered, Crookshank’s tail is stepped on, and girl kicks boy out of his own flat. In January. With no shoes or wand.
“C’mon Hermione!” Ron wheedled from outside. “I’m freezing my bloody bollocks off and you kicked me out of my own home! In my boxers!”
“Oi, mate! Blue does not suit you.”
“Piss off, Harry,” Ron growled, his eyes narrowing at his best friend walking up the steps leading to the flat they shared. “I’m out here because of you.”
“No, mate, I think you’re out here because of you,” Harry replied unrepentantly, leaning against the railing and looking oh so smart and smug in his charmed coat. Well, smug anyway, it was still debatable to Ron how smart Harry actually was.
Harry sighed but opened the door with east and stepped inside. Ron stood there gaping in shock and righteous indignation for a moment before he realized the door was closing and he was still standing outside in his boxers. In January.
*~*~*~*~*~*
And this one was supposed to be the beginning of the sequel to Sink or Swim or a smutty one shot related to that series, but again, I suck at smut so it went a big fat nowhere.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Harry groaned as he flopped face first onto the bed. He lay sprawled out on the king sized bed, one leg dangling off the side, his arms thrown over his head. “Remind me to never drink again yeah?” he muttered into the fluffy duvet.
Hermione grinned wickedly behind him, crawling up the bed and laying down perpendicular to him. “Harry, you’ve been awake for a total of four hours and you’re already ready for bed? How . . . disappointing.”
Staving off the instinct to jerk his head up at the seductive tone in her voice, Harry shifted up on his elbows, lifting his head to look at her with dark green eyes. “Oh? And why is that?”
She grinned and lifted her hand. Dangled between her forefinger and thumb was an individual dose of hangover potion in a small vial.
“Dear sweet Hermione, have I told you lately that I love you?” he smiled hopefully, his eyes never leaving the vial in her hand.
“You did last night, remember?”
“Vaguely. I do remember a horrid nightmare where Draco and I danced and he passed out on top of me,” he replied crawling on the bed and up her body. “So is this because you feel guilty that I’m suffering from a wicked hang over or is this because you and I were both too exhausted last night to consummate our marriage?”
“He’ll get it,” Seamus tried to reassure his dorm mate. “Harry’s the best you know.”
“And he has his Invisibility Cloak,” Dean piped up. “There’s no way he’d be caught.”
“But if he is!” Neville practically wailed. “D’you know how mad she’ll be?!”
Ron waived his hand dismissively from where he stood watch at the door. “She’s a push over.”
“That’s not what you said yesterday,” Neville moaned.
Seamus and Dean snorted a laugh from where they lounged on Harry’s trunk.
“Yes well, that was yesterday,” Ron blustered. “She was right scary yesterday. The woman intimidates me more than Hermione.”
Seamus whispered something to Dean who laughed and nodded enthusiastically.
The room fell into a tense silence broken only by Neville’s nervous shifting and the occasional whisper by Dean and Seamus. Ron stood as still as stone at the door, his eye never leaving the corridor beyond.
Minutes passed before Ron tensed. “Shh!”
A breeze blew past Ron and Harry materialized out of thin air. “Close the door,” he whispered. “Quick."
Ron shut the door quickly but silently. Harry threw his cloak onto his bed and the boys gathered around.
“Did you get it?” Neville asked excitedly, his earlier trepidation and concern suddenly forgotten in the face of success.
“Yeah. It was right where she left it,” Harry replied sitting cross legged on the floor next to his trunk. Seamus and Dean slid off the trunk and the boys sat in a circle. “Now let me warn you. We only have a night with this. I have to return it before tomorrow morning otherwise Lavender will put up a stink and it’ll be harder to return.”
Seamus, Dean, Ron and Neville nodded solemnly.
*~*~*~*~*~*~
This one I began as a prompt for someone, but I forgot which one and even if I did remember, I don't have any idea where this could go. Remember, I suck at angst. Does anyone have any ideas? Please?
~~~~~~~~~~~
It all started out innocently enough, as most stories do. Boy meets girl, boy falls in love with girl, girl falls in love with boy who happens NOT to be the boy who met the girl, boy finds out, fights ensue, wars break out, plates are shattered, Crookshank’s tail is stepped on, and girl kicks boy out of his own flat. In January. With no shoes or wand.
“C’mon Hermione!” Ron wheedled from outside. “I’m freezing my bloody bollocks off and you kicked me out of my own home! In my boxers!”
“Oi, mate! Blue does not suit you.”
“Piss off, Harry,” Ron growled, his eyes narrowing at his best friend walking up the steps leading to the flat they shared. “I’m out here because of you.”
“No, mate, I think you’re out here because of you,” Harry replied unrepentantly, leaning against the railing and looking oh so smart and smug in his charmed coat. Well, smug anyway, it was still debatable to Ron how smart Harry actually was.
Harry sighed but opened the door with east and stepped inside. Ron stood there gaping in shock and righteous indignation for a moment before he realized the door was closing and he was still standing outside in his boxers. In January.
*~*~*~*~*~*
And this one was supposed to be the beginning of the sequel to Sink or Swim or a smutty one shot related to that series, but again, I suck at smut so it went a big fat nowhere.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Harry groaned as he flopped face first onto the bed. He lay sprawled out on the king sized bed, one leg dangling off the side, his arms thrown over his head. “Remind me to never drink again yeah?” he muttered into the fluffy duvet.
Hermione grinned wickedly behind him, crawling up the bed and laying down perpendicular to him. “Harry, you’ve been awake for a total of four hours and you’re already ready for bed? How . . . disappointing.”
Staving off the instinct to jerk his head up at the seductive tone in her voice, Harry shifted up on his elbows, lifting his head to look at her with dark green eyes. “Oh? And why is that?”
She grinned and lifted her hand. Dangled between her forefinger and thumb was an individual dose of hangover potion in a small vial.
“Dear sweet Hermione, have I told you lately that I love you?” he smiled hopefully, his eyes never leaving the vial in her hand.
“You did last night, remember?”
“Vaguely. I do remember a horrid nightmare where Draco and I danced and he passed out on top of me,” he replied crawling on the bed and up her body. “So is this because you feel guilty that I’m suffering from a wicked hang over or is this because you and I were both too exhausted last night to consummate our marriage?”