Round 2 Challenge #11: Voting
Welcome, welcome, one and all, to the final week of Round 2 of the Dramione version of Last Drabble Writer Standing. This Round has been incredible, and your mods thank you so much for all of your participation!
Participants, thank you for the consistently superb Dramione offerings every week!
Voters, thank YOU for coming back week after week and making this challenge possible. We couldn’t do it without you, and we can’t wait to see you next Round!
How this will work:
All three participants have submitted two drabbles each, one prompted, one a free choice. You, the voter, will choose a Most Favorite drabble from each category. When voting ends, we’ll add up each writer’s totals, and the participant with the most points, wins!
Voting will end Tuesday, November 18th at 11.59pm (EDT, New York). Due to the fact that we only have three participants left, said participants (ilkee, inadaze22, and greenschist) are exempt from voting.
PROMPTED DRABBLES
Drabbles must include a baby or child AND it must be written in the second person POV.
one
Title: Surviving
Author: ilkee
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Word Count: 495
So this was you. Seventeen. Fresh. Invincible. Still smiling ten years later in a faded photograph with a bent corner.
You run your finger over your eager face and wonder if you’ll ever be ready to live again.
This little box of photographs was the only thing Malfoy insisted on rescuing from the Manor before it became a pile of broken walls and ash. You can’t help wondering what you’re doing in this stack and how long you’ve been there.
There are fires everywhere and the roar in your ears is constant. Survival now is hiding in sheds and abandoned muggle houses until they are burned to the ground like everything else. If you are lucky, you find a muggle town that’s already been hit.
Now it’s you, Malfoy, and someone else’s child. He has two bottom teeth and doesn’t speak, and most of the time you don’t either.
You think that because you’re the woman, you should hold the child, but you can tell it’s important to Malfoy that he does. The little boy is comfortable with him. They’re both quiet and serious, like they’re always concentrating. The baby feels safe with Malfoy, and you’re not surprised because you do too.
Somehow, you three have become a makeshift family and you try not to think about that. You try not to want it. But you know that everyday that this war continues cements your fantasy a little more.
For now, you survive. You make sure the baby is warm and you feed him. Sometimes you feed yourselves. Malfoy tries to pretend he’s split the rations down the middle, but you know he always gives you more. And you don’t say anything, because you know he needs to make that sacrifice. And because you do the same when it’s your turn.
In the dark places where you huddle on conjured blankets, you catch Malfoy staring at the sleeping baby between you, and you wonder if he imagines that the boy is his. You wonder if he imagines that the boy is yours and his.
----
The first thing you notice when you wake up is your hand, warm, between the baby and Malfoy’s palm. The second thing you notice is the silence. It’s the first silence in many months and it pulls you fully out of sleep, and onto your feet and to the door.
In the weak light of dawn, small explosions are quietly bursting in your chest as you begin to realize it’s over.
And you walk out onto the soft charred dirt, where the air is cold and damp on your face, and you can still smell the smoke, sour and stale and woven into everything.
Your eyes are wet and your breath is stuck in your throat. But then Malfoy is standing next to you, with the baby still sleeping on his chest and he laces his long, warm fingers with yours and squeezes.
And you think, yes, you’re ready now.
two
Title: Enduring the Darkness to See the Light
Author: greenschist
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: recurrent pregnancy loss
Word Count: 497
You were doing all right until Pansy dropped by to show off her second daughter.
Despite his even voice and calm expression, you know your husband too well not to see how much holding the baby hurts him. Maybe if you were a better woman, you could lift the newest Montague in your own arms and spare Draco this, but you can't bring yourself to touch her, not when you're still bleeding out your latest hope, not when Pansy's eldest is younger than your first child would have been had that pregnancy not ended in loss as well. So, upright and still as a tombstone, you stand by the fireplace instead, controlling your breathing and wondering if the Malfoys are cursed.
Narcissa has been a surprising source of comfort, and, on the table in front of Draco, the flowers she sent you are still fresh and fragrant. She brings you yarn and seedlings and books about grief, and she encourages you to find some way to commemorate your losses. You think of Narcissa's garden and of trees growing for Draco's lost brothers and sisters. You are not willing to count them all, but you know Narcissa and Lucius tried for nine years before having Draco. The thought is unbearable. Could you endure it, you wonder, and you're afraid of the answer.
Each absent child is a hole in your heart. Like cracks in parched earth, they could fill with your life's blood but still be as barren as the rest of you. Maybe if Draco had married Pansy, he would be holding his own child now. Maybe if you had loved Ron, Harry, or anyone else but Draco, you wouldn't have to feel this way. Sometimes, in the early morning hours when you are half-asleep and your husband's arm lies over you, his hand protectively cradling nothing, you are convinced that each cycle of creation and death is robbing you of everything but sadness. Will the time come when you need to turn your back on the memory of all of this? Even if it means turning your back on Draco?
When Draco passes the baby back to Pansy, it's safe to join him. Draco is cold hands, warm eyes, and a sad smile just for you, and you can tune Pansy out when he's touching you. You cover his hands with both of yours to warm them and smile your bravest smile for his benefit. Draco has more hope than you that everything will be okay, that someday a child will live and grow and be yours forever. You love him so much for that faith, for the strength he would use to keep you both moving forward, and you kiss him, not caring that Pansy is watching. You realize-with a kind of despair and the intuitive knowledge that the worst is yet to come-that, although you are reaching a point when you will refuse to keep trying, you are not there yet.
three
Title: In This Moment
Author: inadaze22
Rating: G
Warning: cuteness abound
Word Count: 492
In this moment, rays of sunlight peek around slow-moving clouds. They momentarily obstruct your vision, but you move your head to the left. You refuse to tear your eyes away as your daughter takes the broom higher into the air, but not too high. You see the childish excitement in the eyes of the first-time flyer. Her grey eyes flutter, and her brown hair tangles in the wind.
Your wife stands next to you, gripping your hand so tight that her knuckles are white. You’re positive that your hand hurts, but you can’t feel it. You look at Hermione, but her eyes are locked on your daughter.
“Daddy! Is it time for lunch yet?”
That word never ceases to make your heart clench. Daddy.
Your wife answers when you don’t. “Yes, it is. Are you hungry, Madison?”
She nods excitedly, and soon enough, you have an armful of six-year-old. You pick her up effortlessly, lifting her as high into the air as you can before placing her carefully back on the ground. Her laughter and chatter is endless, but you know that your world would be quiet without it. Too quiet. You look at your wife. She’s smiling and glowing in the sunlight.
It’s moments like these that leave you feeling as if there’s never enough. Never enough time or laughter. Moments like this leave you feeling strong enough to stretch the moment out and spread it over an eternity.
You watch as Madison runs to the picnic blanket under the tree.
“She’s getting so independent,” your wife says, sadly. “Pretty soon, she’ll-”
You hush her with a quick kiss.
All that matters is this moment, but you don’t tell her that; you’re not sure how. Talking has never been your strength. It’s in your expressions, your actions, and Hermione knows that better than anyone. The small nod she gives tells you that she still understands your silent point. A strand of her unmanageable hair blows into her face. You tuck it behind her ear. She leans into your touch.
“Mummy, can I have an apple?”
Hermione tears her eyes from yours. “I don’t know, can you?”
You chuckle under your breath at the look on Madison’s face. “May I?”
“Yes, you may.”
Your wife takes your hand and leads you to the picnic blanket.
Lunch passes, and soon, Madison joins the other children on the magical playground. You rest your head on Hermione’s lap. Lying there gives you a new perspective of the same world. It’s still colourful and noisy, but you feel at peace.
Your wife is lost in her story, and it leaves you to think about your own. The story of you and Hermione is one of amazement and Armageddon, of stubbornness and pride, and ultimately, of love and forgiveness. Your story isn’t perfect, but these little moments are.
“Draco,” she still glows. “Do you need anything?”
In this moment, you’re content. You have everything you need.
FREE CHOICE
Drabbles must be 100 words
one
Title: Let's Do Lunch
Author: greenschist
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: none
Word Count: 100
Smiling, Hermione sits on her desk, pulling pins from her hair until it falls to her waist. Nudging her knees apart and standing between them, Draco inches her proper Ministry robes off her smooth shoulders and traces her collarbone with his tongue. He eases her onto her back, and the way she arches up to meet his mouth makes him as hard--
“Malfoy?” Hermione frowns at him from the front of the room.
Draco hides his lap under the color-coded summary she passed out at the beginning of the meeting.
“Sorry, Granger. I was just thinking about doing lunch.”
two
Title: Amid the Falling Snow
Author: inadaze22
Rating: G
Warning: None
Word Count: 100
The first snow fell as they walked.
Hermione stopped to peer up at the evening sky, smiling when Draco teased mercilessly for dancing in place to keep warm.
When watching the swirling snow began to make her dizzy, Hermione lowered her head and continued searching through the rows of Christmas trees for just the right one.
“How about this one?” she stopped beside a fat balsam fir.
“It’s perfect,” Draco smiled, loving that Hermione was completely unaware of the picture she made; coat buttoned to her throat, snow sparkling in her fluffy hair, rosy cheeks from the cold. “Just perfect.”
three
Title: Coming Back to Hermione
Author: ilkee
Rating: PG
Warnings:
Word Count: 100
I’m coming back from the far edges of the world to tell you that it wasn’t far enough.
I’m coming back to tell you that I am weary of pushing you into the dark spaces in my mind.
I’m coming back so I don’t have to wonder where, and when, and around what corner I will suddenly face you again.
If you’re going to be here, if your voice is the constant in my head, then I’m coming back to watch the words being born and shaped in your mouth, and to see your tongue pushing them from your lips.
Poll
Participants, thank you for the consistently superb Dramione offerings every week!
Voters, thank YOU for coming back week after week and making this challenge possible. We couldn’t do it without you, and we can’t wait to see you next Round!
How this will work:
All three participants have submitted two drabbles each, one prompted, one a free choice. You, the voter, will choose a Most Favorite drabble from each category. When voting ends, we’ll add up each writer’s totals, and the participant with the most points, wins!
Voting will end Tuesday, November 18th at 11.59pm (EDT, New York). Due to the fact that we only have three participants left, said participants (ilkee, inadaze22, and greenschist) are exempt from voting.
PROMPTED DRABBLES
Drabbles must include a baby or child AND it must be written in the second person POV.
one
Title: Surviving
Author: ilkee
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Word Count: 495
So this was you. Seventeen. Fresh. Invincible. Still smiling ten years later in a faded photograph with a bent corner.
You run your finger over your eager face and wonder if you’ll ever be ready to live again.
This little box of photographs was the only thing Malfoy insisted on rescuing from the Manor before it became a pile of broken walls and ash. You can’t help wondering what you’re doing in this stack and how long you’ve been there.
There are fires everywhere and the roar in your ears is constant. Survival now is hiding in sheds and abandoned muggle houses until they are burned to the ground like everything else. If you are lucky, you find a muggle town that’s already been hit.
Now it’s you, Malfoy, and someone else’s child. He has two bottom teeth and doesn’t speak, and most of the time you don’t either.
You think that because you’re the woman, you should hold the child, but you can tell it’s important to Malfoy that he does. The little boy is comfortable with him. They’re both quiet and serious, like they’re always concentrating. The baby feels safe with Malfoy, and you’re not surprised because you do too.
Somehow, you three have become a makeshift family and you try not to think about that. You try not to want it. But you know that everyday that this war continues cements your fantasy a little more.
For now, you survive. You make sure the baby is warm and you feed him. Sometimes you feed yourselves. Malfoy tries to pretend he’s split the rations down the middle, but you know he always gives you more. And you don’t say anything, because you know he needs to make that sacrifice. And because you do the same when it’s your turn.
In the dark places where you huddle on conjured blankets, you catch Malfoy staring at the sleeping baby between you, and you wonder if he imagines that the boy is his. You wonder if he imagines that the boy is yours and his.
----
The first thing you notice when you wake up is your hand, warm, between the baby and Malfoy’s palm. The second thing you notice is the silence. It’s the first silence in many months and it pulls you fully out of sleep, and onto your feet and to the door.
In the weak light of dawn, small explosions are quietly bursting in your chest as you begin to realize it’s over.
And you walk out onto the soft charred dirt, where the air is cold and damp on your face, and you can still smell the smoke, sour and stale and woven into everything.
Your eyes are wet and your breath is stuck in your throat. But then Malfoy is standing next to you, with the baby still sleeping on his chest and he laces his long, warm fingers with yours and squeezes.
And you think, yes, you’re ready now.
two
Title: Enduring the Darkness to See the Light
Author: greenschist
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: recurrent pregnancy loss
Word Count: 497
You were doing all right until Pansy dropped by to show off her second daughter.
Despite his even voice and calm expression, you know your husband too well not to see how much holding the baby hurts him. Maybe if you were a better woman, you could lift the newest Montague in your own arms and spare Draco this, but you can't bring yourself to touch her, not when you're still bleeding out your latest hope, not when Pansy's eldest is younger than your first child would have been had that pregnancy not ended in loss as well. So, upright and still as a tombstone, you stand by the fireplace instead, controlling your breathing and wondering if the Malfoys are cursed.
Narcissa has been a surprising source of comfort, and, on the table in front of Draco, the flowers she sent you are still fresh and fragrant. She brings you yarn and seedlings and books about grief, and she encourages you to find some way to commemorate your losses. You think of Narcissa's garden and of trees growing for Draco's lost brothers and sisters. You are not willing to count them all, but you know Narcissa and Lucius tried for nine years before having Draco. The thought is unbearable. Could you endure it, you wonder, and you're afraid of the answer.
Each absent child is a hole in your heart. Like cracks in parched earth, they could fill with your life's blood but still be as barren as the rest of you. Maybe if Draco had married Pansy, he would be holding his own child now. Maybe if you had loved Ron, Harry, or anyone else but Draco, you wouldn't have to feel this way. Sometimes, in the early morning hours when you are half-asleep and your husband's arm lies over you, his hand protectively cradling nothing, you are convinced that each cycle of creation and death is robbing you of everything but sadness. Will the time come when you need to turn your back on the memory of all of this? Even if it means turning your back on Draco?
When Draco passes the baby back to Pansy, it's safe to join him. Draco is cold hands, warm eyes, and a sad smile just for you, and you can tune Pansy out when he's touching you. You cover his hands with both of yours to warm them and smile your bravest smile for his benefit. Draco has more hope than you that everything will be okay, that someday a child will live and grow and be yours forever. You love him so much for that faith, for the strength he would use to keep you both moving forward, and you kiss him, not caring that Pansy is watching. You realize-with a kind of despair and the intuitive knowledge that the worst is yet to come-that, although you are reaching a point when you will refuse to keep trying, you are not there yet.
three
Title: In This Moment
Author: inadaze22
Rating: G
Warning: cuteness abound
Word Count: 492
In this moment, rays of sunlight peek around slow-moving clouds. They momentarily obstruct your vision, but you move your head to the left. You refuse to tear your eyes away as your daughter takes the broom higher into the air, but not too high. You see the childish excitement in the eyes of the first-time flyer. Her grey eyes flutter, and her brown hair tangles in the wind.
Your wife stands next to you, gripping your hand so tight that her knuckles are white. You’re positive that your hand hurts, but you can’t feel it. You look at Hermione, but her eyes are locked on your daughter.
“Daddy! Is it time for lunch yet?”
That word never ceases to make your heart clench. Daddy.
Your wife answers when you don’t. “Yes, it is. Are you hungry, Madison?”
She nods excitedly, and soon enough, you have an armful of six-year-old. You pick her up effortlessly, lifting her as high into the air as you can before placing her carefully back on the ground. Her laughter and chatter is endless, but you know that your world would be quiet without it. Too quiet. You look at your wife. She’s smiling and glowing in the sunlight.
It’s moments like these that leave you feeling as if there’s never enough. Never enough time or laughter. Moments like this leave you feeling strong enough to stretch the moment out and spread it over an eternity.
You watch as Madison runs to the picnic blanket under the tree.
“She’s getting so independent,” your wife says, sadly. “Pretty soon, she’ll-”
You hush her with a quick kiss.
All that matters is this moment, but you don’t tell her that; you’re not sure how. Talking has never been your strength. It’s in your expressions, your actions, and Hermione knows that better than anyone. The small nod she gives tells you that she still understands your silent point. A strand of her unmanageable hair blows into her face. You tuck it behind her ear. She leans into your touch.
“Mummy, can I have an apple?”
Hermione tears her eyes from yours. “I don’t know, can you?”
You chuckle under your breath at the look on Madison’s face. “May I?”
“Yes, you may.”
Your wife takes your hand and leads you to the picnic blanket.
Lunch passes, and soon, Madison joins the other children on the magical playground. You rest your head on Hermione’s lap. Lying there gives you a new perspective of the same world. It’s still colourful and noisy, but you feel at peace.
Your wife is lost in her story, and it leaves you to think about your own. The story of you and Hermione is one of amazement and Armageddon, of stubbornness and pride, and ultimately, of love and forgiveness. Your story isn’t perfect, but these little moments are.
“Draco,” she still glows. “Do you need anything?”
In this moment, you’re content. You have everything you need.
FREE CHOICE
Drabbles must be 100 words
one
Title: Let's Do Lunch
Author: greenschist
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: none
Word Count: 100
Smiling, Hermione sits on her desk, pulling pins from her hair until it falls to her waist. Nudging her knees apart and standing between them, Draco inches her proper Ministry robes off her smooth shoulders and traces her collarbone with his tongue. He eases her onto her back, and the way she arches up to meet his mouth makes him as hard--
“Malfoy?” Hermione frowns at him from the front of the room.
Draco hides his lap under the color-coded summary she passed out at the beginning of the meeting.
“Sorry, Granger. I was just thinking about doing lunch.”
two
Title: Amid the Falling Snow
Author: inadaze22
Rating: G
Warning: None
Word Count: 100
The first snow fell as they walked.
Hermione stopped to peer up at the evening sky, smiling when Draco teased mercilessly for dancing in place to keep warm.
When watching the swirling snow began to make her dizzy, Hermione lowered her head and continued searching through the rows of Christmas trees for just the right one.
“How about this one?” she stopped beside a fat balsam fir.
“It’s perfect,” Draco smiled, loving that Hermione was completely unaware of the picture she made; coat buttoned to her throat, snow sparkling in her fluffy hair, rosy cheeks from the cold. “Just perfect.”
three
Title: Coming Back to Hermione
Author: ilkee
Rating: PG
Warnings:
Word Count: 100
I’m coming back from the far edges of the world to tell you that it wasn’t far enough.
I’m coming back to tell you that I am weary of pushing you into the dark spaces in my mind.
I’m coming back so I don’t have to wonder where, and when, and around what corner I will suddenly face you again.
If you’re going to be here, if your voice is the constant in my head, then I’m coming back to watch the words being born and shaped in your mouth, and to see your tongue pushing them from your lips.
Poll