Slythindor Early Bird Challenge #2/DracoHarry100 Christmas Challenge # 1
Title: The Perfect Snowball
Author: dracogotgame
Word Count: 450 (approx.)
Rating: PG
Warning: Non Slash
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. This was written for fun, not profit
Summary: Draco muses on the makings of a perfect snowball.
Author's Notes: Written for slythindor100's Early Bird Prompt #15: Making a snowball. Also written for dracoharry100's Christmas Challenge Prompt #2: Woolly Mittens
Draco hummed a Christmas carol to himself as he walked through the frozen winter wonderland that was the Hogwarts gardens. The snow crunched under his boots and he rubbed his hands together, feeling pleasantly content. Even with mittens on, his fingers were cold and he wondered if he should go in and sit by the fire after all. Then he caught sight of a clump of snow and a blond brow rose in apparent interest.
He had always been good at making snowballs. As a child, his near lethal projectiles were the stuff of nightmares for the Manor house elves. On a lark, Draco bent down, scooped up some snow and set to work.
Meticulously, he palmed the frozen snow in his left hand, patting and shaping and perfecting it, marvelling as it all came together. It was so round and smooth and perfect. A white, round thing of wonder sitting in the palm of his hand. As he indulged his inner artist, Draco couldn’t help but wonder what really went into making the perfect snowball. His were fantastic, of course. But surely there was room for improvement.
Did one coat the snowball with a dash of powdered snow for texture? Was it shaped so as to be perfectly spherical? Perhaps the perfect snowball wasn’t made of ‘snow’ at all. Maybe one needed a bit of frost or ice to hold it all together. Or maybe it was all in the projectile.
The sound of boots crunching the snow behind him made Draco stop his inner musings. He turned and watched with interest as a familiar figure ambled by, maroon and gold Gryffindor scarf around the neck and a dreadful mop for hair. Potter whistled blithely and shucked some snow with his boot before resuming his walk, seemingly oblivious to Draco standing right behind him.
Oh, it was just too good. Draco’s lips stretched in an instinctive evil grin and without a second thought, he lobbed the snowball.
Much like everything else about Draco, his aim was was immaculate as well. Potter looked around wildly, sputtering and rubbing the back of his head. Green eyes settled on Draco and immediately narrowed. Draco snickered happily and then Potter snarled in outrage and took a menacing step towards him.
With a gleeful cackle, Draco took off at once, prompting Potter to give chase. As he ran for his life, he realised that he had answered his own question. The perfect snowball wasn’t about shape or size or texture after all.
The perfect snowball was the one that got Potter right in his stupid, fat head.
That, children, is what Christmas is all about.
Author: dracogotgame
Word Count: 450 (approx.)
Rating: PG
Warning: Non Slash
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. This was written for fun, not profit
Summary: Draco muses on the makings of a perfect snowball.
Author's Notes: Written for slythindor100's Early Bird Prompt #15: Making a snowball. Also written for dracoharry100's Christmas Challenge Prompt #2: Woolly Mittens
Draco hummed a Christmas carol to himself as he walked through the frozen winter wonderland that was the Hogwarts gardens. The snow crunched under his boots and he rubbed his hands together, feeling pleasantly content. Even with mittens on, his fingers were cold and he wondered if he should go in and sit by the fire after all. Then he caught sight of a clump of snow and a blond brow rose in apparent interest.
He had always been good at making snowballs. As a child, his near lethal projectiles were the stuff of nightmares for the Manor house elves. On a lark, Draco bent down, scooped up some snow and set to work.
Meticulously, he palmed the frozen snow in his left hand, patting and shaping and perfecting it, marvelling as it all came together. It was so round and smooth and perfect. A white, round thing of wonder sitting in the palm of his hand. As he indulged his inner artist, Draco couldn’t help but wonder what really went into making the perfect snowball. His were fantastic, of course. But surely there was room for improvement.
Did one coat the snowball with a dash of powdered snow for texture? Was it shaped so as to be perfectly spherical? Perhaps the perfect snowball wasn’t made of ‘snow’ at all. Maybe one needed a bit of frost or ice to hold it all together. Or maybe it was all in the projectile.
The sound of boots crunching the snow behind him made Draco stop his inner musings. He turned and watched with interest as a familiar figure ambled by, maroon and gold Gryffindor scarf around the neck and a dreadful mop for hair. Potter whistled blithely and shucked some snow with his boot before resuming his walk, seemingly oblivious to Draco standing right behind him.
Oh, it was just too good. Draco’s lips stretched in an instinctive evil grin and without a second thought, he lobbed the snowball.
Much like everything else about Draco, his aim was was immaculate as well. Potter looked around wildly, sputtering and rubbing the back of his head. Green eyes settled on Draco and immediately narrowed. Draco snickered happily and then Potter snarled in outrage and took a menacing step towards him.
With a gleeful cackle, Draco took off at once, prompting Potter to give chase. As he ran for his life, he realised that he had answered his own question. The perfect snowball wasn’t about shape or size or texture after all.
The perfect snowball was the one that got Potter right in his stupid, fat head.
That, children, is what Christmas is all about.