DRABBLE for cjmarlowe
cjmarlowe: somehow draco's now working as a bookbinder
cjmarlowe: which is better than digging turnips
cjmarlowe: to him, at least
rosesanguina: i have a friend who picked watermelons for a living for awhile.
rosesanguina: /random anj trivia
cjmarlowe: hahahaha
cjmarlowe: hmm, draco picking watermelons...
rosesanguina: ahaha!
rosesanguina: all covered in pink and green
cjmarlowe: hahahaha
cjmarlowe: totally does not fit the story and i love the image anyway :)
rosesanguina: hee!
rosesanguina: i want to write that now.
rosesanguina: can i make it mpreg too? harry pregnant and craving watermelons and draco picking them because they HAVE to be FRESH DAMMIT?
cjmarlowe: HAHAHAHA
cjmarlowe: yes, YOU write it
rosesanguina: ahhahahahaha
rosesanguina: i wonder if i can.
rosesanguina: think i can drabble it?
cjmarlowe: doooo iiiiitttttt
rosesanguina: *rolls up sleeves and plunges in*
Draco scowled as he picked his way through the tangled, clinging vines, raising a hand to wipe the drops of sweat beading on his forehead, care of the afternoon sun.
"Honestly," he grumbled to himself as he walked. "Of all the...I'm a Malfoy. Well, was a Malfoy. Malfoys do not...tromp through fields in search of produce. Malfoys do not tromp, full stop." He paused, realising that Malfoys don't talk to themselves either, and pressed his lips together, glaring down at his feet, where one of the vines was attempting to be...friendly. In a very inappropriate manner.
"Excuse me," he said sharply, disentangling himself from the groping flora, which was attempting to molest his calf.
He let out a long-suffering sigh, and then glared at the sun for good measure, until it started to hurt his eyes and he had to stop. "Damned sun," he growled. "Going to violate my precious pores and sully my precious complexion. I HATE YOU!" he yelled, resisting the urge to shake his fist at the sky because that was just déclassé.
"Everything all right?" came a voice from the edge of the field, and Draco whirled around, having forgotten he was not alone. Unfortunately, the vine had decided to be saucy again, twisting itself around his ankle, and the sharp movement sent him tumbling straight to the ground despite his best flaily-armed attempt to remain upright and the copious cursing all the way down until he faceplanted in the dirt, muffling his colourful monologue.
He lay there for a moment, contemplating the best way to do away with a body, specifically one that was roughly the size of a small killer whale, and then slowly pressed one palm against the dirt, then the other, and pushed himself upright. As expected, Harry was laughing hysterically, clutching his swollen belly and kicking his propped-up feet wildly in the air.
Draco scowled darkly, blowing a clump of grass from the hair dangling down over his face, and then assumed an attentive look, batting his lashes. "Perhaps if you are so very entertained by my mishaps, dearest," he said sweetly, "then the baby is as well and is no longer in need of--"
"No," Harry called back, still laughing. "Fresh watermelon, Daddy Potter, and be quick about it! His -- or Her -- Majesty commands it!"
Draco was glad he was no longer a Malfoy. He didn't want to subject his unborn child to these mutterings. It might grow up to have the mouth of a Weasley.
Next time, he thought, kicking viciously at the offending watermelon vine and grumbling as it simply waved innocently at him, he would carry the baby and Harry could pick the watermelons. Nothing could possibly be more unpleasant than this.
cjmarlowe: which is better than digging turnips
cjmarlowe: to him, at least
rosesanguina: i have a friend who picked watermelons for a living for awhile.
rosesanguina: /random anj trivia
cjmarlowe: hahahaha
cjmarlowe: hmm, draco picking watermelons...
rosesanguina: ahaha!
rosesanguina: all covered in pink and green
cjmarlowe: hahahaha
cjmarlowe: totally does not fit the story and i love the image anyway :)
rosesanguina: hee!
rosesanguina: i want to write that now.
rosesanguina: can i make it mpreg too? harry pregnant and craving watermelons and draco picking them because they HAVE to be FRESH DAMMIT?
cjmarlowe: HAHAHAHA
cjmarlowe: yes, YOU write it
rosesanguina: ahhahahahaha
rosesanguina: i wonder if i can.
rosesanguina: think i can drabble it?
cjmarlowe: doooo iiiiitttttt
rosesanguina: *rolls up sleeves and plunges in*
Draco scowled as he picked his way through the tangled, clinging vines, raising a hand to wipe the drops of sweat beading on his forehead, care of the afternoon sun.
"Honestly," he grumbled to himself as he walked. "Of all the...I'm a Malfoy. Well, was a Malfoy. Malfoys do not...tromp through fields in search of produce. Malfoys do not tromp, full stop." He paused, realising that Malfoys don't talk to themselves either, and pressed his lips together, glaring down at his feet, where one of the vines was attempting to be...friendly. In a very inappropriate manner.
"Excuse me," he said sharply, disentangling himself from the groping flora, which was attempting to molest his calf.
He let out a long-suffering sigh, and then glared at the sun for good measure, until it started to hurt his eyes and he had to stop. "Damned sun," he growled. "Going to violate my precious pores and sully my precious complexion. I HATE YOU!" he yelled, resisting the urge to shake his fist at the sky because that was just déclassé.
"Everything all right?" came a voice from the edge of the field, and Draco whirled around, having forgotten he was not alone. Unfortunately, the vine had decided to be saucy again, twisting itself around his ankle, and the sharp movement sent him tumbling straight to the ground despite his best flaily-armed attempt to remain upright and the copious cursing all the way down until he faceplanted in the dirt, muffling his colourful monologue.
He lay there for a moment, contemplating the best way to do away with a body, specifically one that was roughly the size of a small killer whale, and then slowly pressed one palm against the dirt, then the other, and pushed himself upright. As expected, Harry was laughing hysterically, clutching his swollen belly and kicking his propped-up feet wildly in the air.
Draco scowled darkly, blowing a clump of grass from the hair dangling down over his face, and then assumed an attentive look, batting his lashes. "Perhaps if you are so very entertained by my mishaps, dearest," he said sweetly, "then the baby is as well and is no longer in need of--"
"No," Harry called back, still laughing. "Fresh watermelon, Daddy Potter, and be quick about it! His -- or Her -- Majesty commands it!"
Draco was glad he was no longer a Malfoy. He didn't want to subject his unborn child to these mutterings. It might grow up to have the mouth of a Weasley.
Next time, he thought, kicking viciously at the offending watermelon vine and grumbling as it simply waved innocently at him, he would carry the baby and Harry could pick the watermelons. Nothing could possibly be more unpleasant than this.