Valentine's Day third set
My paid account expired today - thank you, _bubbleforest! It was really fun just to see what it was like, and the 15 icons limit was love. Thank you so much! And I had some free time today at school, so I downloaded a few of Vienna Teng's songs. She's awesome. Although "Gravity" is my favorite (could be the Fitz/Fool relationship :D), her songs are really, really nice and lovely. Must remember to send them to you the next time I catch you online.
And I have a question - even though the paid account expired, I still have this Component layout - I know that I can't edit it anymore, but does anyone know if I switch layouts, can I still get back to using this one?
And onto the Valentine's Day drabbles/ficlets. I'm so not doing this in alphabetical order now. Anyway, I did _citanul and streetscribbles today, which was a novel experience - I've never written Fred/Hermione (and found I'm not so good at it) and Draco/Hermione - well, I've never been good at that ship either. And man - what the hell. My "Valentine's Day drabbles" are progressing into "post-Valentine's Days ficlets."
Recipient: _citanul
Message: You’re nice and friendly, and I like talking to you about your thoughts on HP fandom the few times we’ve talked through comments <3 I really appreciate your comments on my writing, and you totally encouraged my Fred/Hermione liking :) Have a great day!
Title: Secret Codes
Ship: Fred/Hermione
Rating: PG-13
Harry pushed out of the room just as Hermione lay her hand to the doorknob, and she leapt back in surprise.
“Sorry,” Harry snickered.
Hermione paused and gave him a suspicious glance. “What happened?”
“Nothing.” Harry shook his head, shoulders still shaking from laughter.
Hermione looked at him doubtfully, but informed him, “Ron’s looking for you. He’s finally using his broom service kit and he wants to know how to use this…” Hermione shrugged. “I don’t know, but he said he wanted your help. He’s in his room.”
“All right.” Harry hurried down the hall.
Hermione entered the living room cautiously, but Fred and George both seemed preoccupied. They hovered over a table. Instead of looking their usual laidback selves, Fred and George looked -
“Bamboozled,” announced George, not looking away from the paper that lay flat on the desk before them. “I’m perfectly bamboozled.”
Fred had looked up at Hermione’s entrance, and he flashed her a grin that lingered when she smiled back reflexively and looked away quickly from his attention. “We are bamboozled,” agreed Fred, smirking slightly.
“What is that?” Hermione asked, walking closer, her interest peaked.
George waved the sheet of paper at her. “It started when we wanted to create a new line of products, something new to the wizarding world - ”
“ - and we were uninspired, so our mate Harry suggested that we look at Muggle toys and joke shops,” spoke Fred, moving to seat himself comfortably on the table, swinging his legs off it. “We found that the Muggles really do have some good ideas, besides all the batteries - ”
“So we wrote the owner of this Muggle joke shop,” continued George, his brow furrowed. “Because we wanted them to be our supplier.”
“We may have fibbed a bit and told them we were old-timers in the business,” Fred confided. “Well, we might as well be. Didn’t think they’d trust us young ones.”
“We asked for an inventory, and he sent us this.” George thrust the sheet of paper in Hermione’s face, clearly exasperated. “It’s some sort of code, Hermione, but none of our spells could reveal the message. We understand the need for confidentiality, of course, in case the letter landed in the hands of their competitors, but honestly.” George suddenly brightened as the front door of the Burrow slammed. “That’s Bill; Mum made him promise to come over for dinner. I’ll ask him; this is what he’s good for.”
George dashed off, wheeling around the corner of the room. Fred huffed a loud sigh and flopped down onto the stuffed armchair, peering crossly at the letter.
Hermione peered over Fred’s shoulder.
“That’s not code,” she said after a moment, and Fred thought she looked lovely, trying to hide her amusement and not succeeding at all in the least. “That’s shorthand.” She grinned now. “Harry knew. He didn’t tell you?”
“No,” said Fred, aghast. “Wanker.”
“It’s all right,” Hermione said, still smiling - laughing at him, really - and patting his shoulder. “Harry probably knew what it was, but I bet he didn’t know how to read it either. It’s a way of Muggle writing that’s almost as fast as typing.”
“What’s typing?” Fred asked, not actually curious, but wanting her to keep speaking. He was watching her lips.
Hermione heaved a sigh. “You don’t really want to know, do you?”
“Yes, I do,” Fred insisted, abandoning her lips in favor of her eyes. He sank back further down in the armchair, enjoying his view.
Hermione folded her arms, which, Fred was sure, she did not mean to seem enticing. “Well, I came in to find Ginny. She wanted to go shopping this afternoon. By the way, didn’t Molly ask you to keep an eye on whatever she had on the stove?”
“Blimey,” Fred exclaimed, and jumped up, discovering two things.
The first was that Hermione was standing too close to the desk and armchair, and his momentum stood him right into her. The second was that Hermione had the most flattering blush Fred had ever seen before on a girl.
What Hermione needed, Fred decided fuzzily, was to be embarrassed more. She needed to be pranked. She was a girl who should always be blushing, and Fred had a talent for pranking.
Recipient: streetscribbles
Message: Betty, you’re crazy fun! You make me laugh, and you’ve become one of my closest friends. Thanks for all the songs and support <3 Draco and Hermione at last, and remember, this is the third D/Hr I’ve ever written, and I think it’s the best out of the three, and that’s not saying much, I’m sorry :\
Title: Backwards Arithmacy
Ship: Draco/Hermione
Rating: PG-13
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Hermione snapped. “The only feelings I have for Malfoy are ones of great irritation and dislike.”
“All right, all right,” said Ron, pacified.
Reassured, he and Harry launched into an enthusiastic discussion of Quidditch punctuated by wind-milling arms that threatened to knock someone unconscious.
They parted at the stairs; Ron and Harry hurried to Divination and Hermione turned down the hallway to Arithmacy.
Malfoy was early for once. He usually swaggered in at the last moment, taking in the room in one disdainful glance before he seated himself like a king ascending to his throne. It rankled Hermione.
Malfoy never deigned to volunteer an answer. Professor Vector called on him occasionally, and to Hermione’s childish disappointment, Malfoy had yet to be embarrassed for not knowing the correct answer.
After class, Hermione remained for a moment to ask Professor Vector additional questions. Deeply engrossed in the paper, she didn’t notice Malfoy until he spoke.
“Can’t stand me, can you, Granger?”
His voice was low and came from the shadowed doorway of an empty classroom. Hermione looked around warily for his tagalongs, but Malfoy was alone. The Slytherin Head Boy was usually snappily dressed, but today he wore a fuzzy jumper with a penguin stitched into it. It was somewhat less than intimidating. He still looked as aloof and standoffish as ever - Hermione supposed it was his pale good looks, which had matured since their early years - but in the ridiculous sweater, he seemed less unapproachable.
“What are you talking about?” Hermione frowned at him.
He gave her a black look, straightening up off the wall to his height. Hermione didn’t move back, and his frown seemed to deepen. “I heard you talking to the prats,” he said, and his voice had an accusing bite to it that Hermione didn’t understand.
“Spying on us now, Malfoy?” Hermione responded coolly, shifting her bag from one shoulder to the other. “Well, that’s nothing new.”
“You don’t know a thing about it,” he shot back. “I overheard you. You weren’t exactly trying to hide your feelings.”
“That’s right, I wasn’t.” Hermione glared back at him. “What do you want, Malfoy?”
“What do you think I want?” he exploded. “I’m going mad. I think about you when I don’t want to. I want it to stop.”
“I - don’t - pardon?” Hermione gaped at him.
“What don’t you understand? I’m speaking English. Want to hear it in French? Chinese?” Malfoy scowled at her darkly. “It’s not like I’m happy about it. Would you just - ” He floundered for the words. “ - stop being you? Be someone else. Anyone. Just not you.” Malfoy gave her a clear grey-eyed disgusted look. “I can’t get my mind off you,” he added weakly, and it was two parts concession and confession.
This was a strange world Hermione found herself thrust into. It was a world that seemed without lines and logic. It wasn’t all that unpleasant.
And I have a question - even though the paid account expired, I still have this Component layout - I know that I can't edit it anymore, but does anyone know if I switch layouts, can I still get back to using this one?
And onto the Valentine's Day drabbles/ficlets. I'm so not doing this in alphabetical order now. Anyway, I did _citanul and streetscribbles today, which was a novel experience - I've never written Fred/Hermione (and found I'm not so good at it) and Draco/Hermione - well, I've never been good at that ship either. And man - what the hell. My "Valentine's Day drabbles" are progressing into "post-Valentine's Days ficlets."
Recipient: _citanul
Message: You’re nice and friendly, and I like talking to you about your thoughts on HP fandom the few times we’ve talked through comments <3 I really appreciate your comments on my writing, and you totally encouraged my Fred/Hermione liking :) Have a great day!
Title: Secret Codes
Ship: Fred/Hermione
Rating: PG-13
Harry pushed out of the room just as Hermione lay her hand to the doorknob, and she leapt back in surprise.
“Sorry,” Harry snickered.
Hermione paused and gave him a suspicious glance. “What happened?”
“Nothing.” Harry shook his head, shoulders still shaking from laughter.
Hermione looked at him doubtfully, but informed him, “Ron’s looking for you. He’s finally using his broom service kit and he wants to know how to use this…” Hermione shrugged. “I don’t know, but he said he wanted your help. He’s in his room.”
“All right.” Harry hurried down the hall.
Hermione entered the living room cautiously, but Fred and George both seemed preoccupied. They hovered over a table. Instead of looking their usual laidback selves, Fred and George looked -
“Bamboozled,” announced George, not looking away from the paper that lay flat on the desk before them. “I’m perfectly bamboozled.”
Fred had looked up at Hermione’s entrance, and he flashed her a grin that lingered when she smiled back reflexively and looked away quickly from his attention. “We are bamboozled,” agreed Fred, smirking slightly.
“What is that?” Hermione asked, walking closer, her interest peaked.
George waved the sheet of paper at her. “It started when we wanted to create a new line of products, something new to the wizarding world - ”
“ - and we were uninspired, so our mate Harry suggested that we look at Muggle toys and joke shops,” spoke Fred, moving to seat himself comfortably on the table, swinging his legs off it. “We found that the Muggles really do have some good ideas, besides all the batteries - ”
“So we wrote the owner of this Muggle joke shop,” continued George, his brow furrowed. “Because we wanted them to be our supplier.”
“We may have fibbed a bit and told them we were old-timers in the business,” Fred confided. “Well, we might as well be. Didn’t think they’d trust us young ones.”
“We asked for an inventory, and he sent us this.” George thrust the sheet of paper in Hermione’s face, clearly exasperated. “It’s some sort of code, Hermione, but none of our spells could reveal the message. We understand the need for confidentiality, of course, in case the letter landed in the hands of their competitors, but honestly.” George suddenly brightened as the front door of the Burrow slammed. “That’s Bill; Mum made him promise to come over for dinner. I’ll ask him; this is what he’s good for.”
George dashed off, wheeling around the corner of the room. Fred huffed a loud sigh and flopped down onto the stuffed armchair, peering crossly at the letter.
Hermione peered over Fred’s shoulder.
“That’s not code,” she said after a moment, and Fred thought she looked lovely, trying to hide her amusement and not succeeding at all in the least. “That’s shorthand.” She grinned now. “Harry knew. He didn’t tell you?”
“No,” said Fred, aghast. “Wanker.”
“It’s all right,” Hermione said, still smiling - laughing at him, really - and patting his shoulder. “Harry probably knew what it was, but I bet he didn’t know how to read it either. It’s a way of Muggle writing that’s almost as fast as typing.”
“What’s typing?” Fred asked, not actually curious, but wanting her to keep speaking. He was watching her lips.
Hermione heaved a sigh. “You don’t really want to know, do you?”
“Yes, I do,” Fred insisted, abandoning her lips in favor of her eyes. He sank back further down in the armchair, enjoying his view.
Hermione folded her arms, which, Fred was sure, she did not mean to seem enticing. “Well, I came in to find Ginny. She wanted to go shopping this afternoon. By the way, didn’t Molly ask you to keep an eye on whatever she had on the stove?”
“Blimey,” Fred exclaimed, and jumped up, discovering two things.
The first was that Hermione was standing too close to the desk and armchair, and his momentum stood him right into her. The second was that Hermione had the most flattering blush Fred had ever seen before on a girl.
What Hermione needed, Fred decided fuzzily, was to be embarrassed more. She needed to be pranked. She was a girl who should always be blushing, and Fred had a talent for pranking.
Recipient: streetscribbles
Message: Betty, you’re crazy fun! You make me laugh, and you’ve become one of my closest friends. Thanks for all the songs and support <3 Draco and Hermione at last, and remember, this is the third D/Hr I’ve ever written, and I think it’s the best out of the three, and that’s not saying much, I’m sorry :\
Title: Backwards Arithmacy
Ship: Draco/Hermione
Rating: PG-13
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Hermione snapped. “The only feelings I have for Malfoy are ones of great irritation and dislike.”
“All right, all right,” said Ron, pacified.
Reassured, he and Harry launched into an enthusiastic discussion of Quidditch punctuated by wind-milling arms that threatened to knock someone unconscious.
They parted at the stairs; Ron and Harry hurried to Divination and Hermione turned down the hallway to Arithmacy.
Malfoy was early for once. He usually swaggered in at the last moment, taking in the room in one disdainful glance before he seated himself like a king ascending to his throne. It rankled Hermione.
Malfoy never deigned to volunteer an answer. Professor Vector called on him occasionally, and to Hermione’s childish disappointment, Malfoy had yet to be embarrassed for not knowing the correct answer.
After class, Hermione remained for a moment to ask Professor Vector additional questions. Deeply engrossed in the paper, she didn’t notice Malfoy until he spoke.
“Can’t stand me, can you, Granger?”
His voice was low and came from the shadowed doorway of an empty classroom. Hermione looked around warily for his tagalongs, but Malfoy was alone. The Slytherin Head Boy was usually snappily dressed, but today he wore a fuzzy jumper with a penguin stitched into it. It was somewhat less than intimidating. He still looked as aloof and standoffish as ever - Hermione supposed it was his pale good looks, which had matured since their early years - but in the ridiculous sweater, he seemed less unapproachable.
“What are you talking about?” Hermione frowned at him.
He gave her a black look, straightening up off the wall to his height. Hermione didn’t move back, and his frown seemed to deepen. “I heard you talking to the prats,” he said, and his voice had an accusing bite to it that Hermione didn’t understand.
“Spying on us now, Malfoy?” Hermione responded coolly, shifting her bag from one shoulder to the other. “Well, that’s nothing new.”
“You don’t know a thing about it,” he shot back. “I overheard you. You weren’t exactly trying to hide your feelings.”
“That’s right, I wasn’t.” Hermione glared back at him. “What do you want, Malfoy?”
“What do you think I want?” he exploded. “I’m going mad. I think about you when I don’t want to. I want it to stop.”
“I - don’t - pardon?” Hermione gaped at him.
“What don’t you understand? I’m speaking English. Want to hear it in French? Chinese?” Malfoy scowled at her darkly. “It’s not like I’m happy about it. Would you just - ” He floundered for the words. “ - stop being you? Be someone else. Anyone. Just not you.” Malfoy gave her a clear grey-eyed disgusted look. “I can’t get my mind off you,” he added weakly, and it was two parts concession and confession.
This was a strange world Hermione found herself thrust into. It was a world that seemed without lines and logic. It wasn’t all that unpleasant.