Voting - Week 11!
Read the voting rules, please!
1. Please don’t vote for yourself or ask/coerce/blackmail others into voting for you.
2. If you submitted a drabble, you are required to vote.
3. Please vote for a Most and Second Favorite drabble. If you do not vote for both, your vote will not be counted.
4. Vote for the NUMBER, not the name. For the ease of the mods, please!
5. Don’t forget the prompt: “The press is like the peculiar uncle you keep in the attic - just one of those unfortunate things.” - G. Gordon Liddy
Feel free to comment about a given drabble; we’ll be sending out feedback from now on.
1. Author:
Title: Rearranging Prejudices
Word Count: 466
Rating: PG
Warnings: None.
It isn’t like Draco doesn’t see Rodolphus Lestrange sitting in the high armchair in front of the fireplace, but it isn’t like he cares either. This is his home and he can walk in every room if he wants to. It’s just the slightest bit scaring that a crazy murderer sits in his favourite chair.
Draco walks into the sitting room. Rodolphus looks up and their eyes meet. There is nothing but emptiness in the dark orbs, not the dimmest glimpse of madness, not even pain or suffering. Compared to Aunt Bellatrix and Uncle Rabastan Rodolphus seems to be a strange source of calmness, despite all those years in Azkaban.
Draco sits down on the couch and reaches for the Daily Prophet. Rodolphus’ eyes never leave him, watching Draco taking in the sight of the article about his newly discovered family members.
The truth is that Draco has never heard about Rodolphus and Rabastan before the breakout. Bellatrix has been mentioned by his mother, but only briefly. Coming back from Hogwarts to find those strangers hiding in his home has been unexpected. Draco doesn’t know how to deal with it.
He reads all these awful stories about the Lestranges in the Prophet, and he’s sure that his parents have never mentioned them for a reason, but they can’t simply lock them up in the attic. Somehow, they have to deal with them.
Draco flips through the pages to read the sports section, something that hopefully bores a man, whose favourite hobby is torturing Muggles. But Rodolphus keeps staring at him.
Draco lifts the newspaper, trying to hide behind it. Rodolphus’ stare becomes even more intense, if that’s possible.
Putting the Daily Prophet down, Draco gave into another staring-contest with his uncle.
“What?” he snaps. “Plotting the most amusing way to kill, rape, or violate me?”
Rodolphus’ mouth twitches. “A mixture of all.”
Draco’s eyes widen to the size of a house-elf’s. His expression appears to be funny enough for Rodolphus to laugh. It’s the first time Draco hears him laughing. It’s not a particularly pleasant sound; dry, hoarse, and a bit rusty.
“Relax, little one,” Rodolphus says. Contrary to his laugh, his speaking voice has this oddly soothing facet, just like his appearance. “I’m not going to hurt you, if that’s what you think.”
“Sadly, you’re not exactly trustworthy,” Draco replies dryly. “Who knows what kind of needs you couldn’t satisfy in Azkaban.” He points at the Prophet. “Killing and torturing for the fun of it… this thing tells me everything about you.”
“Does it?” Rodolphus sighs. “I think that it depicts me a bit one-dimensional.”
“You think?”
Rodolphus nods. “I do.”
Draco scoots to the other side of the couch, curiosity pulling him closer to Rodolphus. He grabs the armrest and leans forward. “Prove it.”
2. Author:
Title: Necessary Nepotism
Word Count: 499
Rating: R (for use of the ‘c’ word)
Warnings: None, beyond the ‘c’ word
“Screw you, Rodolphus!”
Draco cringed, wanting to bite the words back into his mouth. Rodolphus always managed to bring out the crass in him, his uncle’s cocksure attitude grating under his skin with deft precision.
Scratch that last bit. Cocksure wasn’t any type of description for someone who willingly fucked Bellatrix. Cockcrazy, maybe…
“Dear, sweet, Draco,” Rodolphus said, his lecherous grin making obvious his already not-so-subtle undertones. “While I might find you pretty enough to entertain the notion, I don’t really go in for blokes.”
Draco’s temperature went up three degrees. Please. If anyone was going to get rejected here, it would be Rodol - wait - what the hell were they talking about again?
“Let me rephrase, then. Anyone whose family name actually benefited by a marriage to that crazy cunt wife of yours isn’t exactly in a position to understand the effects of negative publicity, thank you very much.” Draco folded his arms over his chest and allowed himself a quiet smile at coming up with such a zinger.
Rodolphus clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Did your daddy tell you that? Even you should know by now that Lucius is eminently fallible.”
Oh! That oily-tongued mother fu- “You,” Draco spat, pointing a long, manicured finger at his uncle’s broad chest, “aren’t fit to kiss Lucius’ feet.”
“But Lucius has been fit to kiss my feet on more than one occasion. What? You didn’t know about your father’s kinks. The foot thing is rather benign, actual-‘
Rodolphus’ sentence was cut off by Draco’s fist driving into his jaw, the force knocking the older wizard out of his chair and onto the floor. But instead of angry words and an answering blow, laughter drifted up from the floor, the hearty mirth siphoning a bit of steam from Draco’s rage. This nutter was as loopy as Bellatrix!
“Calm down, Nephew.” Rodolphus stood, brushing the dust off his robes. “And put those,” he said, pointing a finger between Draco’s balled-up hands, “away. Someone might get hurt.”
The quiet confidence in his uncle’s voice sent a thrill of fear down Draco’s spine that loosened his grip and propelled him back into his chair. Damn - what just happened here? Had he just been wooed? Fuck, I think I have …
“Now, I think this little,” Rodolphus said, pausing to dip two fingers inside his lower lip, “demonstration has shown that you can’t be trusted to keep your cool under pressure. And as much as you don’t want to hear it, neither can Lucius. Your family can only benefit by my expertise. P.R. is a finicky mistress, Draco. The press isn’t going to get any less annoying if you run around punching every reporter who asks an impertinent question.”
Draco sighed. There was too much truth in Rodolphus’ words for him to deny, and as much as it pained him to do it, Draco stuck out his hand.
“Fine,” he said, stifling a grimace when his uncle’s hand slid over his, “you’re hired.”
3. Author:
Title: The Heavy Rings
Word Count: 364
Rating: PG 13
Warnings: some violence. unbetaed. All mistakes are mine.
“The last thing I need right now is the stupid press. I mean, why bother if it's not going to bring you anything?” Draco snarled to no one at particular, after his father had left the dining chamber. “Who leaked that Father has no wand to the bleeding Quibbler, for Merlin's sake? I know it's a rag. No one will believe it anyways, but still...”
Draco tried to look confident but looked more crumpled. The other Death Eaters were in silence. Then Rodolphus Lestrange grasped the hand of his wife. “We have had much harsher experiences than you have had, boy. Right now it's caressing you. Wait until it catches its breath and bites. Press, Prophet, Tabloids. Bah!” Rodolphus spat. Bellatrix concurred with a haughty nod and scowl on her pouting lips. Draco though she looked like a vile vamp, a wretched slut. Unable to articulate, Draco sat frozen, as if he had run into the Full Body-Bind. Only his eyelids moved, and even that was an attempt to master himself and his surroundings.
He decided to pretend to read the article. Rodolphus, who had been hunched, straightened and raised his shaggy head into his hands, which cupped his chin. “Even a Malfoy has reason to deny the press, instead of financially backing it. You own nothing, your father does not even own a wand. An unspeakable truth, like the skeletons in the closet - unfortunate, but there you are.”
Draco's throat felt very tight, his collar stuck, his eyes were watery and his mood angry. “We all know you're second class, Rodolphus. Blood taint may not mar you, but your choice of mate? Just a tad below Mudblood.”
“My veins bleed purity! How dare you say this!” Bellatrix cried, her neck crimson and her face becoming more and more so. “You nasty little...just like your father. I don't take things lying down, ickle babykins who doesn't know what is expected of his position.”
“What kind of position?” Draco sneered. “Surely you know them all.”
It was then that Rodolphus Lestrange stood and knocked Draco's head sideways with a vicious uppercut, his fingers full of heavy rings.
Poll
1. Please don’t vote for yourself or ask/coerce/blackmail others into voting for you.
2. If you submitted a drabble, you are required to vote.
3. Please vote for a Most and Second Favorite drabble. If you do not vote for both, your vote will not be counted.
4. Vote for the NUMBER, not the name. For the ease of the mods, please!
5. Don’t forget the prompt: “The press is like the peculiar uncle you keep in the attic - just one of those unfortunate things.” - G. Gordon Liddy
Feel free to comment about a given drabble; we’ll be sending out feedback from now on.
1. Author:
Title: Rearranging Prejudices
Word Count: 466
Rating: PG
Warnings: None.
It isn’t like Draco doesn’t see Rodolphus Lestrange sitting in the high armchair in front of the fireplace, but it isn’t like he cares either. This is his home and he can walk in every room if he wants to. It’s just the slightest bit scaring that a crazy murderer sits in his favourite chair.
Draco walks into the sitting room. Rodolphus looks up and their eyes meet. There is nothing but emptiness in the dark orbs, not the dimmest glimpse of madness, not even pain or suffering. Compared to Aunt Bellatrix and Uncle Rabastan Rodolphus seems to be a strange source of calmness, despite all those years in Azkaban.
Draco sits down on the couch and reaches for the Daily Prophet. Rodolphus’ eyes never leave him, watching Draco taking in the sight of the article about his newly discovered family members.
The truth is that Draco has never heard about Rodolphus and Rabastan before the breakout. Bellatrix has been mentioned by his mother, but only briefly. Coming back from Hogwarts to find those strangers hiding in his home has been unexpected. Draco doesn’t know how to deal with it.
He reads all these awful stories about the Lestranges in the Prophet, and he’s sure that his parents have never mentioned them for a reason, but they can’t simply lock them up in the attic. Somehow, they have to deal with them.
Draco flips through the pages to read the sports section, something that hopefully bores a man, whose favourite hobby is torturing Muggles. But Rodolphus keeps staring at him.
Draco lifts the newspaper, trying to hide behind it. Rodolphus’ stare becomes even more intense, if that’s possible.
Putting the Daily Prophet down, Draco gave into another staring-contest with his uncle.
“What?” he snaps. “Plotting the most amusing way to kill, rape, or violate me?”
Rodolphus’ mouth twitches. “A mixture of all.”
Draco’s eyes widen to the size of a house-elf’s. His expression appears to be funny enough for Rodolphus to laugh. It’s the first time Draco hears him laughing. It’s not a particularly pleasant sound; dry, hoarse, and a bit rusty.
“Relax, little one,” Rodolphus says. Contrary to his laugh, his speaking voice has this oddly soothing facet, just like his appearance. “I’m not going to hurt you, if that’s what you think.”
“Sadly, you’re not exactly trustworthy,” Draco replies dryly. “Who knows what kind of needs you couldn’t satisfy in Azkaban.” He points at the Prophet. “Killing and torturing for the fun of it… this thing tells me everything about you.”
“Does it?” Rodolphus sighs. “I think that it depicts me a bit one-dimensional.”
“You think?”
Rodolphus nods. “I do.”
Draco scoots to the other side of the couch, curiosity pulling him closer to Rodolphus. He grabs the armrest and leans forward. “Prove it.”
2. Author:
Title: Necessary Nepotism
Word Count: 499
Rating: R (for use of the ‘c’ word)
Warnings: None, beyond the ‘c’ word
“Screw you, Rodolphus!”
Draco cringed, wanting to bite the words back into his mouth. Rodolphus always managed to bring out the crass in him, his uncle’s cocksure attitude grating under his skin with deft precision.
Scratch that last bit. Cocksure wasn’t any type of description for someone who willingly fucked Bellatrix. Cockcrazy, maybe…
“Dear, sweet, Draco,” Rodolphus said, his lecherous grin making obvious his already not-so-subtle undertones. “While I might find you pretty enough to entertain the notion, I don’t really go in for blokes.”
Draco’s temperature went up three degrees. Please. If anyone was going to get rejected here, it would be Rodol - wait - what the hell were they talking about again?
“Let me rephrase, then. Anyone whose family name actually benefited by a marriage to that crazy cunt wife of yours isn’t exactly in a position to understand the effects of negative publicity, thank you very much.” Draco folded his arms over his chest and allowed himself a quiet smile at coming up with such a zinger.
Rodolphus clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Did your daddy tell you that? Even you should know by now that Lucius is eminently fallible.”
Oh! That oily-tongued mother fu- “You,” Draco spat, pointing a long, manicured finger at his uncle’s broad chest, “aren’t fit to kiss Lucius’ feet.”
“But Lucius has been fit to kiss my feet on more than one occasion. What? You didn’t know about your father’s kinks. The foot thing is rather benign, actual-‘
Rodolphus’ sentence was cut off by Draco’s fist driving into his jaw, the force knocking the older wizard out of his chair and onto the floor. But instead of angry words and an answering blow, laughter drifted up from the floor, the hearty mirth siphoning a bit of steam from Draco’s rage. This nutter was as loopy as Bellatrix!
“Calm down, Nephew.” Rodolphus stood, brushing the dust off his robes. “And put those,” he said, pointing a finger between Draco’s balled-up hands, “away. Someone might get hurt.”
The quiet confidence in his uncle’s voice sent a thrill of fear down Draco’s spine that loosened his grip and propelled him back into his chair. Damn - what just happened here? Had he just been wooed? Fuck, I think I have …
“Now, I think this little,” Rodolphus said, pausing to dip two fingers inside his lower lip, “demonstration has shown that you can’t be trusted to keep your cool under pressure. And as much as you don’t want to hear it, neither can Lucius. Your family can only benefit by my expertise. P.R. is a finicky mistress, Draco. The press isn’t going to get any less annoying if you run around punching every reporter who asks an impertinent question.”
Draco sighed. There was too much truth in Rodolphus’ words for him to deny, and as much as it pained him to do it, Draco stuck out his hand.
“Fine,” he said, stifling a grimace when his uncle’s hand slid over his, “you’re hired.”
3. Author:
Title: The Heavy Rings
Word Count: 364
Rating: PG 13
Warnings: some violence. unbetaed. All mistakes are mine.
“The last thing I need right now is the stupid press. I mean, why bother if it's not going to bring you anything?” Draco snarled to no one at particular, after his father had left the dining chamber. “Who leaked that Father has no wand to the bleeding Quibbler, for Merlin's sake? I know it's a rag. No one will believe it anyways, but still...”
Draco tried to look confident but looked more crumpled. The other Death Eaters were in silence. Then Rodolphus Lestrange grasped the hand of his wife. “We have had much harsher experiences than you have had, boy. Right now it's caressing you. Wait until it catches its breath and bites. Press, Prophet, Tabloids. Bah!” Rodolphus spat. Bellatrix concurred with a haughty nod and scowl on her pouting lips. Draco though she looked like a vile vamp, a wretched slut. Unable to articulate, Draco sat frozen, as if he had run into the Full Body-Bind. Only his eyelids moved, and even that was an attempt to master himself and his surroundings.
He decided to pretend to read the article. Rodolphus, who had been hunched, straightened and raised his shaggy head into his hands, which cupped his chin. “Even a Malfoy has reason to deny the press, instead of financially backing it. You own nothing, your father does not even own a wand. An unspeakable truth, like the skeletons in the closet - unfortunate, but there you are.”
Draco's throat felt very tight, his collar stuck, his eyes were watery and his mood angry. “We all know you're second class, Rodolphus. Blood taint may not mar you, but your choice of mate? Just a tad below Mudblood.”
“My veins bleed purity! How dare you say this!” Bellatrix cried, her neck crimson and her face becoming more and more so. “You nasty little...just like your father. I don't take things lying down, ickle babykins who doesn't know what is expected of his position.”
“What kind of position?” Draco sneered. “Surely you know them all.”
It was then that Rodolphus Lestrange stood and knocked Draco's head sideways with a vicious uppercut, his fingers full of heavy rings.
Poll