DRABBLE: More Like Peaches (Michael&Terry)
Title: More Like Peaches
Prompt: "Hear the silence"
Characters: Michael & Terry (platonic), Lavender Brown
Rating: PG-13 - cursing, sexual content
Word Count: ~540
Prompt Table: Say what?
Summary: Lavender overhears a conversation definitely not intended for her ears.
Lavender Brown hated sitting in front of Michael Corner and Terry Boot during Charms. They always talked about the most idiotic things, and she couldn’t concentrate on the professor or her own thoughts. Sometimes they talked about Quidditch, other times they talked about their dumb bets or schemes. Sometimes they just really pissed her off, no matter what they talked about. This happened to be one of those times.
Normally she could find some way to drown out their incessant bleating, and if she couldn’t, she just shushed them until they got sick enough of her to shut up until the bell rang and released them all from misery. She’d been preparing to snap back in her seat, purse her lips at them, and let loose a low and angry sshhh when something Terry said actually caught her attention and caused her to hesitate and cock her head ever-so-slightly to the side.
“-Definitely not like oranges-too soft. More like peaches, maybe,” Terry had whispered-lower, much lower than usual-as in, not-for-her-ears low.
“They’re too round to be peaches,” Michael responded.
“Actually, they’re probably softer than even a peach. And much more supple.”
“How would you know?”
“I got a hold of one once and-”
“No way. You wouldn’t have the guts for that. And she’d never let you near them.”
Lavender’s cheeks changed from the red of flustered embarrassment to the red of unadulterated fury. She could feel the two boys staring at the back of her head as they spoke.
“I did! I swear!” Terry continued, unaware of the storm brewing in the seat in front of him, “And they were definitely softer than peaches. What’s softer than a peach but round like an orange?”
“Umm… a very round sponge?”
“Too soft.”
“A slightly saggy quaffle?”
“Not round enough.”
“A toasty meat pie, fresh from the oven?”
“That’s not soft. That’s crispy.”
“So you wouldn’t describe them as crispy, then? Huh. What did they taste like?”
Lavender couldn’t take it anymore. She spun around in her seat with enough violence to immediately end their conversation, as well as quiet the half of the class that sat behind them. Terry had opened his mouth in response to Michael’s question, but no words came out. They stared at her.
“You-you-” she spat, trembling in her seat, “-you wretched, filthy, lying little boys! How dare you talk about such vulgar things while I’m sitting right here! Terry, you think I can’t hear what you’re saying? Did you think you could get away with a lie like that? That I would let you touch-let you-” she shuddered at the unfinished thought. “Keep your hands and your minds to yourselves from now on!” She slapped both Michael and Terry hard on their cheeks. The sound resounded across the silent classroom for several seconds thereafter.
Tears were already wobbling in her eyes when she scraped her chair back dramatically and ran sniffling off to the bathroom.
Terry and Michael were left holding their raw and reddened cheeks in stunned silence. Terry had yet to close his mouth; Michael had yet to open his. All eyes were on the two boys, and the sound of Lavender's chair grating across the floor was the only noise that remained to quietly echo through the room.
“Erm, boys,” Flitwick squeaked after an agonizing pause, “Care to explain to the class what that was all about?”
“Uhm,” Terry gurgled helplessly.
“I… have no idea,” Michael finally said. “We were just talking about Terry’s grandmum’s cinnamon rolls.”
Prompt: "Hear the silence"
Characters: Michael & Terry (platonic), Lavender Brown
Rating: PG-13 - cursing, sexual content
Word Count: ~540
Prompt Table: Say what?
Summary: Lavender overhears a conversation definitely not intended for her ears.
Lavender Brown hated sitting in front of Michael Corner and Terry Boot during Charms. They always talked about the most idiotic things, and she couldn’t concentrate on the professor or her own thoughts. Sometimes they talked about Quidditch, other times they talked about their dumb bets or schemes. Sometimes they just really pissed her off, no matter what they talked about. This happened to be one of those times.
Normally she could find some way to drown out their incessant bleating, and if she couldn’t, she just shushed them until they got sick enough of her to shut up until the bell rang and released them all from misery. She’d been preparing to snap back in her seat, purse her lips at them, and let loose a low and angry sshhh when something Terry said actually caught her attention and caused her to hesitate and cock her head ever-so-slightly to the side.
“-Definitely not like oranges-too soft. More like peaches, maybe,” Terry had whispered-lower, much lower than usual-as in, not-for-her-ears low.
“They’re too round to be peaches,” Michael responded.
“Actually, they’re probably softer than even a peach. And much more supple.”
“How would you know?”
“I got a hold of one once and-”
“No way. You wouldn’t have the guts for that. And she’d never let you near them.”
Lavender’s cheeks changed from the red of flustered embarrassment to the red of unadulterated fury. She could feel the two boys staring at the back of her head as they spoke.
“I did! I swear!” Terry continued, unaware of the storm brewing in the seat in front of him, “And they were definitely softer than peaches. What’s softer than a peach but round like an orange?”
“Umm… a very round sponge?”
“Too soft.”
“A slightly saggy quaffle?”
“Not round enough.”
“A toasty meat pie, fresh from the oven?”
“That’s not soft. That’s crispy.”
“So you wouldn’t describe them as crispy, then? Huh. What did they taste like?”
Lavender couldn’t take it anymore. She spun around in her seat with enough violence to immediately end their conversation, as well as quiet the half of the class that sat behind them. Terry had opened his mouth in response to Michael’s question, but no words came out. They stared at her.
“You-you-” she spat, trembling in her seat, “-you wretched, filthy, lying little boys! How dare you talk about such vulgar things while I’m sitting right here! Terry, you think I can’t hear what you’re saying? Did you think you could get away with a lie like that? That I would let you touch-let you-” she shuddered at the unfinished thought. “Keep your hands and your minds to yourselves from now on!” She slapped both Michael and Terry hard on their cheeks. The sound resounded across the silent classroom for several seconds thereafter.
Tears were already wobbling in her eyes when she scraped her chair back dramatically and ran sniffling off to the bathroom.
Terry and Michael were left holding their raw and reddened cheeks in stunned silence. Terry had yet to close his mouth; Michael had yet to open his. All eyes were on the two boys, and the sound of Lavender's chair grating across the floor was the only noise that remained to quietly echo through the room.
“Erm, boys,” Flitwick squeaked after an agonizing pause, “Care to explain to the class what that was all about?”
“Uhm,” Terry gurgled helplessly.
“I… have no idea,” Michael finally said. “We were just talking about Terry’s grandmum’s cinnamon rolls.”