Round 4 Challenge #8: Voting
Welcome to week 8 of voting for Round 4 of Dramione LDWS!!
I apologize for the lateness of this post. But here it is! I’ll be going out of town Tuesday, so the voting period will have to be shortened as a result. So PLEASE, get the word out! Post on your journals! Tell people to come over and VOTE!!
A couple of things to remember when deciding which drabbles to vote for (most and least favorite):
Guidelines:
1. Which drabble best incorporates the prompt?
2. Is the drabble clever, different, fresh? Does it evoke an emotional response (good or bad)?
3. Does the drabble contain grammar, canon or spelling errors?
The “feedback” option.
As a voter, you have the option of leaving a brief statement about why you voted the way you did, for both most and least favorite. Your feedback will then be given to the drabble writer (if they want the feedback) ANONYMOUSLY.
Example: Most - #40: the ending was brilliant - OR - Least - #57: the ending fell flat
Now that all of that is done… We present the drabbles for week 7!!
RULES
[1] Choose your most favorite and least favorite drabbles. Favorites will receive +1 point per vote, and least favorites -1 point per vote. Each drabble’s MF and LF scores will be added together. Drabble with most points wins, drabbles with least TWO points are voted off.
[2] You may NOT vote for yourself.
Voting ends at 11:59pm, MONDAY, AUGUST 10, 2009.
PROMPT:
“A life without love is like a year without summer.” ~ Swedish Proverb ~
1
Title: Seeking Redemption in the Rain
Author: __vintagebomb
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Word Count: 324
It was now ten straight days that rain was falling in England, eleven days since Draco had a proper night's rest, and twelve days since he had regretted saying those words.
Rain was falling in torrents, plastering his hair to his face. He continued walking aimlessly, unaware of his whereabouts.
It would have been a lot easier if he meant those nasty things he said, if he could have just walked away without a second glance, and if he could not have given a damn that she was pleading for him to stay.
Life was already complicated enough as it was. He already had more than enough on his mind that day to leave him reeling for days. He did not need her news on top of it all. It was too much.
The rain slowed to a drizzle just as Draco realised where he was standing. He walked up to the front door, his fist poised to knock.
As much as he didn't want to, he knew that he cared with every ounce of his being. But loving someone other than himself was a novel idea. It had caught him off-guard and he had become a jumbled mess. To top it off, Hermione's announcement had sent him into a panic and he said things he completely regretted.
He knew he was a coward; he always was and always will be. But now was not the time to take the easy way out.
He wanted to be a better man.
But most of all, he wanted to be a better father than his ever was.
Hermione opened the door with her hand placed protectively over her stomach. His stomach clenched as he saw her pained expression. He hated himself for hurting her. He was stupid for pushing her away. He was insane for almost ruining his chance to be part of a family after yearning for one his entire childhood.
"I'm sorry," he croaked.
2
Title: Dance
Author: little_dollface
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: swearing
Word Count: 499
“Let’s dance!” Hermione grabbed his hand and dragged Draco to the dance floor, ignoring his grunting attempt at a protest.
“Granger, what are you playing at?”
She shushed him. Worrying her lip, and looking every bit like a schoolgirl about to give the wrong answer, she whispered, “Is he looking?”
Rolling his eyes, he craned his neck to try and spot the moronic occupant of her thoughts. “Yes.” Smiling affably at the glint of hatred in Weasley’s eye, he added, “He doesn’t seem too pleased.”
“Good,” she said, as she shifted in Draco’s arms, rearranging him to a comfortable position. He felt a twinge of annoyance that he was being treated like a cloak. “He deserves to be miserable. Treating me badly just so < i >I’ll< /i > be the one to break it off. What? So he can limp about being the jilted one? ‘Oh, poor Ron’, I can hear his mother now. Makes me want to just … ” she trailed off, seeming startled to find him listening.
“I shouldn’t have asked,” Draco replied, feigning disinterest.
“Right, I forgot. You’re a cold hearted wanker who doesn’t give a shit about things like love,” she spat back.
He looked at her; she wasn’t completely wrong about that. After the war, the notion of marrying for love had seemed foolish, a laughable luxury. The Malfoy name needed to be restored. Who he chose as a bride affected the future of his family.
“I think I’m the one doing you a favor, Granger. Try not to be too much of a bitch.”
She glared at him. “Shut up and do your job.”
“Job? You’re paying me for this?” he said, chuckling.
She sighed, ignoring his jibe.
The song was slow, a peaceful melody meant for lovers. He watched her face as they danced. She seemed weary.
“You’re making a big fuss about nothing,” he stated.
She looked up at him briefly. He thought he saw her eyes glisten but then it was gone and there was only pity left. “You know what makes the rest-all of this-bearable?” she said softly. “Things are just things without it. That’s what makes the pain worth it. Because everything important really means nothing without it.”
Her openness made him uneasy. He wanted to laugh at her but the sincerity in her voice stopped him. “What? Love?”
She rested her head on his chest. “Yes, love,” she murmured. “I thought that Ron was the one but I must’ve been wrong.” When the music slowed nearing the end of the song, she asked, with a tremulous smile, “One more? I can’t go back yet.”
“Fine,” he said, pulling her closer.
Strands of her hair stuck to his skin, tickling his neck. Her warmth made their small corner of the room blaze. The feeling was pleasantly familiar.
Unconsciously caressing her back, he tried to recall when he’d felt this way before. Her warm breath cascaded over his skin, and then he realized that she reminded him of summer.
3
Title: Meeting Halfway
Author: nightfalltwen
Rating: PG
Warning: Use of poetic devices. A fiasco is a typical Italian style of bottle.
Word Count: 450
She sits. She sits alone at a table. She sits alone at a table with a red checkered table cloth and a stubby candle wedged into an empty Chianti fiasco, the woven basket that encases it is coated in old wax from past dinner services. Hermione reads a menu she cannot understand, shivering because the nights in Venice have been unusually cold and the window beside her is open. The candlelight flickers and she is alone.
In England the skies are grey and it is raining again. Draco's brought it upon himself, he thinks. She left for Italy. She left for Italy because he said there was nothing between them. She left for Italy because he pushed her away before she had the chance to leave him first and damage his pride and make him the fool and let the world know that she was the air that he breathed. Now her desk is empty and he does his paperwork and tries not to think about how she always kept on his case to make sure everything was filled out properly and to the Ministry's standards.
He misses her.
She misses him.
So between them it's all rain and empty tables and cold summers and misery. Both are just stubborn enough to stick fast to their choices. Rigid English oaks instead of supple willows that sway in the wind and bend back and forth and compromise.
Then one day, weeks later, he's waiting in the Portkey Office. Ticket in hand. Now serving number seventeen then eighteen then nineteen. He's number twenty. The man behind the counter is rotund and heavily moustached causing Draco to think of Slughorn and grimace at the memories that flitter to the surface. He thinks about how she forgave him for all that. She was always forgiving him for his past sins. He hopes she will do the same this time. Draco holds out his ticket and his application form.
"Wait," she says breathlessly from behind.
He turns, blinking in surprise.
"I was just coming to find you," they say together.
"I'm not letting you go without a fight," they say together.
"I love you," they say together.
In Venice, the wind shifts and warm breezes dance across the city, rippling the canals and warming the residents enough that they shed their layers. In England, the rain stops and the clouds break and the sun sparkles on the wet pavement. In the Portkey office, Draco kisses Hermione. In front of everyone and with everything he has. She kisses back with the same enthusiasm. There are smiles. Relief fills both of them. They're not as stubborn as they'd thought, meeting halfway and admitting things on equal terms.
4
Title: It Would Always Be.
Author: midnight_birth
Rating: PG
Warnings: EWE
Word Count: 476
He watched them out of his study window, as he often did. He was too busy to keep doing that, to keep taking time off to stare for hours (and oh, he could do it forever), but there was no stopping him once he started. Not until it got too hot, or cold, or wet, or they got too tired and went inside.
He watched as the woman laughed, sweeping her hair out of the way, and jumped into a pile of dry, brightly-coloured leaves. He watched as the child squealed at her mother’s delightful laughter and followed suit. He watched as the mother and child embraced, red and laughing and out of breath, and the child’s star-shaped hand came to stroke the thick hair as he so loved to do too.
Hermione’s eyes met his and he considered jumping out of the way, but she had seen him, and the smile she gave him made him want to Evanesco all the documents on his desk and climb right out of the window and join them. Hermione leaned down and whispered something to their daughter, and the child whipped around, grinning, and waved enthusiastically at him. Nodding, he waved back and then, with a sigh, stepped out of view. Out of view but not away.
He couldn’t help the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him every time he stopped and really thought about how fortunate he was. After the war, he had nothing. He remembered sitting alone in the cold, empty Manor and considering whether there was anything to go on for. He remembered not even attempting to do anything useful as winter slowly bled into spring and then into summer, and then, without notice, it was autumn, and another winter was just around the corner. He remembered vividly that he didn’t notice the seasons changing; he was convinced that it would always be winter for him.
Then, suddenly, his life snapped out of limbo and started spiraling with a young woman who walked purposefully into his study and into his life and forcefully, gently, caringly ripped him out of his despair and gave him more than he had ever had, more than he ever thought he deserved.
As he watched his wife and daughter play in the leaves, he felt happy. He didn’t think about the war or the past days as much anymore, and the Dark Mark had faded. They could remove it now but he wouldn’t let them. He didn’t attempt to discard or forget where he’d come from. But he didn’t have to focus on it, either. The two laughing outside was all he needed in his life. They showed how far he’d come, how wonderful things could happen to everyone, not only the good and the noble and the deserving.
Summer was over, but it would always be summer for him.
5
Title: Unseasonable Weather
Author: bookishwench
Rating: PG
Warnings: vague allusions to abuse
Word Count: 499
It was cold, the sort of chill that wrapped around his bones like a serpent and made it feel like the life was being squeezed out of him. Draco couldn’t become used to it no matter how long it stayed near him. It was the perpetual warning of the presence of Dementors, now a staple at Malfoy Manor since the Dark Lord had taken up residence.
From what the Carrows were saying, the Muggles had noted it was the coldest summer in decades, and the Death Eaters had laughed at their stupidity. Draco joined in, but like most of them, there was no heart in the sound. The cold and depression were the same for Muggle or wizard, and the unceasingly repressive weather was taking a toll on them all, save the Dark Lord. Draco was now utterly convinced that thing that had once been human had no heart left at all or else even he would have been unsettled by the ever present cold.
Draco was never sure if the Dementors made it cold and bleak or if the debilitating unhappiness they brought was so strong that people were actually to blame for changing the skies to grey even in the middle of July. It didn’t matter, though, not really. The effect was the same.
Draco wouldn’t be going back to Hogwarts in September. It should have been his seventh year, the one every student looked forward to with the dizzying prospect of being at the top of the school’s hierarchy. Just last year at this time he’d been bragging to Pansy and Blaise that he hoped he wouldn’t be back at all, but the words had been empty, and even then he hadn’t meant them. Now Hogwarts sounded like heaven. Anywhere that wasn’t surrounded by the Dark Lord’s infernal, constant, red-eyed presence seemed like paradise, but his parents had been told Draco was to perform certain “duties” that would prevent his attending school full time. Those tasks made the cold seep deeper into him, but it never quite numbed him. He could still feel pain.
But being away from Hogwarts would spare him one thing. He wouldn’t have to see her empty seat in class and wonder where Hermione was, if she was alive or dead in a ditch somewhere, if somehow she and St. Potter and the Weasel had succeeded in whatever mad scheme they were trying or if the last hope for ever seeing true summer again was gone for good. He didn’t have to be in class for those thoughts to press against his mind, but at least her absence wasn’t quite so keen if he wasn’t surrounded by the places where she should be. Malfoy Manor had never known her face, and with things as they were, he hoped it never would.
In spite of it all, though, when he thought of her, a secret summer warmed his heart even in the midst of the coldness and despair of a thousand shattering hopes.
ooo.&&&.ooo
REMEMBER: Vote for the NUMBER of the drabble, NOT THE NAME. It just makes it easier on the mods!
Poll
I apologize for the lateness of this post. But here it is! I’ll be going out of town Tuesday, so the voting period will have to be shortened as a result. So PLEASE, get the word out! Post on your journals! Tell people to come over and VOTE!!
A couple of things to remember when deciding which drabbles to vote for (most and least favorite):
Guidelines:
The “feedback” option.
As a voter, you have the option of leaving a brief statement about why you voted the way you did, for both most and least favorite. Your feedback will then be given to the drabble writer (if they want the feedback) ANONYMOUSLY.
Example: Most - #40: the ending was brilliant - OR - Least - #57: the ending fell flat
Now that all of that is done… We present the drabbles for week 7!!
RULES
[1] Choose your most favorite and least favorite drabbles. Favorites will receive +1 point per vote, and least favorites -1 point per vote. Each drabble’s MF and LF scores will be added together. Drabble with most points wins, drabbles with least TWO points are voted off.
[2] You may NOT vote for yourself.
Voting ends at 11:59pm, MONDAY, AUGUST 10, 2009.
PROMPT:
“A life without love is like a year without summer.” ~ Swedish Proverb ~
1
Title: Seeking Redemption in the Rain
Author: __vintagebomb
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Word Count: 324
It was now ten straight days that rain was falling in England, eleven days since Draco had a proper night's rest, and twelve days since he had regretted saying those words.
Rain was falling in torrents, plastering his hair to his face. He continued walking aimlessly, unaware of his whereabouts.
It would have been a lot easier if he meant those nasty things he said, if he could have just walked away without a second glance, and if he could not have given a damn that she was pleading for him to stay.
Life was already complicated enough as it was. He already had more than enough on his mind that day to leave him reeling for days. He did not need her news on top of it all. It was too much.
The rain slowed to a drizzle just as Draco realised where he was standing. He walked up to the front door, his fist poised to knock.
As much as he didn't want to, he knew that he cared with every ounce of his being. But loving someone other than himself was a novel idea. It had caught him off-guard and he had become a jumbled mess. To top it off, Hermione's announcement had sent him into a panic and he said things he completely regretted.
He knew he was a coward; he always was and always will be. But now was not the time to take the easy way out.
He wanted to be a better man.
But most of all, he wanted to be a better father than his ever was.
Hermione opened the door with her hand placed protectively over her stomach. His stomach clenched as he saw her pained expression. He hated himself for hurting her. He was stupid for pushing her away. He was insane for almost ruining his chance to be part of a family after yearning for one his entire childhood.
"I'm sorry," he croaked.
2
Title: Dance
Author: little_dollface
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: swearing
Word Count: 499
“Let’s dance!” Hermione grabbed his hand and dragged Draco to the dance floor, ignoring his grunting attempt at a protest.
“Granger, what are you playing at?”
She shushed him. Worrying her lip, and looking every bit like a schoolgirl about to give the wrong answer, she whispered, “Is he looking?”
Rolling his eyes, he craned his neck to try and spot the moronic occupant of her thoughts. “Yes.” Smiling affably at the glint of hatred in Weasley’s eye, he added, “He doesn’t seem too pleased.”
“Good,” she said, as she shifted in Draco’s arms, rearranging him to a comfortable position. He felt a twinge of annoyance that he was being treated like a cloak. “He deserves to be miserable. Treating me badly just so < i >I’ll< /i > be the one to break it off. What? So he can limp about being the jilted one? ‘Oh, poor Ron’, I can hear his mother now. Makes me want to just … ” she trailed off, seeming startled to find him listening.
“I shouldn’t have asked,” Draco replied, feigning disinterest.
“Right, I forgot. You’re a cold hearted wanker who doesn’t give a shit about things like love,” she spat back.
He looked at her; she wasn’t completely wrong about that. After the war, the notion of marrying for love had seemed foolish, a laughable luxury. The Malfoy name needed to be restored. Who he chose as a bride affected the future of his family.
“I think I’m the one doing you a favor, Granger. Try not to be too much of a bitch.”
She glared at him. “Shut up and do your job.”
“Job? You’re paying me for this?” he said, chuckling.
She sighed, ignoring his jibe.
The song was slow, a peaceful melody meant for lovers. He watched her face as they danced. She seemed weary.
“You’re making a big fuss about nothing,” he stated.
She looked up at him briefly. He thought he saw her eyes glisten but then it was gone and there was only pity left. “You know what makes the rest-all of this-bearable?” she said softly. “Things are just things without it. That’s what makes the pain worth it. Because everything important really means nothing without it.”
Her openness made him uneasy. He wanted to laugh at her but the sincerity in her voice stopped him. “What? Love?”
She rested her head on his chest. “Yes, love,” she murmured. “I thought that Ron was the one but I must’ve been wrong.” When the music slowed nearing the end of the song, she asked, with a tremulous smile, “One more? I can’t go back yet.”
“Fine,” he said, pulling her closer.
Strands of her hair stuck to his skin, tickling his neck. Her warmth made their small corner of the room blaze. The feeling was pleasantly familiar.
Unconsciously caressing her back, he tried to recall when he’d felt this way before. Her warm breath cascaded over his skin, and then he realized that she reminded him of summer.
3
Title: Meeting Halfway
Author: nightfalltwen
Rating: PG
Warning: Use of poetic devices. A fiasco is a typical Italian style of bottle.
Word Count: 450
She sits. She sits alone at a table. She sits alone at a table with a red checkered table cloth and a stubby candle wedged into an empty Chianti fiasco, the woven basket that encases it is coated in old wax from past dinner services. Hermione reads a menu she cannot understand, shivering because the nights in Venice have been unusually cold and the window beside her is open. The candlelight flickers and she is alone.
In England the skies are grey and it is raining again. Draco's brought it upon himself, he thinks. She left for Italy. She left for Italy because he said there was nothing between them. She left for Italy because he pushed her away before she had the chance to leave him first and damage his pride and make him the fool and let the world know that she was the air that he breathed. Now her desk is empty and he does his paperwork and tries not to think about how she always kept on his case to make sure everything was filled out properly and to the Ministry's standards.
He misses her.
She misses him.
So between them it's all rain and empty tables and cold summers and misery. Both are just stubborn enough to stick fast to their choices. Rigid English oaks instead of supple willows that sway in the wind and bend back and forth and compromise.
Then one day, weeks later, he's waiting in the Portkey Office. Ticket in hand. Now serving number seventeen then eighteen then nineteen. He's number twenty. The man behind the counter is rotund and heavily moustached causing Draco to think of Slughorn and grimace at the memories that flitter to the surface. He thinks about how she forgave him for all that. She was always forgiving him for his past sins. He hopes she will do the same this time. Draco holds out his ticket and his application form.
"Wait," she says breathlessly from behind.
He turns, blinking in surprise.
"I was just coming to find you," they say together.
"I'm not letting you go without a fight," they say together.
"I love you," they say together.
In Venice, the wind shifts and warm breezes dance across the city, rippling the canals and warming the residents enough that they shed their layers. In England, the rain stops and the clouds break and the sun sparkles on the wet pavement. In the Portkey office, Draco kisses Hermione. In front of everyone and with everything he has. She kisses back with the same enthusiasm. There are smiles. Relief fills both of them. They're not as stubborn as they'd thought, meeting halfway and admitting things on equal terms.
4
Title: It Would Always Be.
Author: midnight_birth
Rating: PG
Warnings: EWE
Word Count: 476
He watched them out of his study window, as he often did. He was too busy to keep doing that, to keep taking time off to stare for hours (and oh, he could do it forever), but there was no stopping him once he started. Not until it got too hot, or cold, or wet, or they got too tired and went inside.
He watched as the woman laughed, sweeping her hair out of the way, and jumped into a pile of dry, brightly-coloured leaves. He watched as the child squealed at her mother’s delightful laughter and followed suit. He watched as the mother and child embraced, red and laughing and out of breath, and the child’s star-shaped hand came to stroke the thick hair as he so loved to do too.
Hermione’s eyes met his and he considered jumping out of the way, but she had seen him, and the smile she gave him made him want to Evanesco all the documents on his desk and climb right out of the window and join them. Hermione leaned down and whispered something to their daughter, and the child whipped around, grinning, and waved enthusiastically at him. Nodding, he waved back and then, with a sigh, stepped out of view. Out of view but not away.
He couldn’t help the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him every time he stopped and really thought about how fortunate he was. After the war, he had nothing. He remembered sitting alone in the cold, empty Manor and considering whether there was anything to go on for. He remembered not even attempting to do anything useful as winter slowly bled into spring and then into summer, and then, without notice, it was autumn, and another winter was just around the corner. He remembered vividly that he didn’t notice the seasons changing; he was convinced that it would always be winter for him.
Then, suddenly, his life snapped out of limbo and started spiraling with a young woman who walked purposefully into his study and into his life and forcefully, gently, caringly ripped him out of his despair and gave him more than he had ever had, more than he ever thought he deserved.
As he watched his wife and daughter play in the leaves, he felt happy. He didn’t think about the war or the past days as much anymore, and the Dark Mark had faded. They could remove it now but he wouldn’t let them. He didn’t attempt to discard or forget where he’d come from. But he didn’t have to focus on it, either. The two laughing outside was all he needed in his life. They showed how far he’d come, how wonderful things could happen to everyone, not only the good and the noble and the deserving.
Summer was over, but it would always be summer for him.
5
Title: Unseasonable Weather
Author: bookishwench
Rating: PG
Warnings: vague allusions to abuse
Word Count: 499
It was cold, the sort of chill that wrapped around his bones like a serpent and made it feel like the life was being squeezed out of him. Draco couldn’t become used to it no matter how long it stayed near him. It was the perpetual warning of the presence of Dementors, now a staple at Malfoy Manor since the Dark Lord had taken up residence.
From what the Carrows were saying, the Muggles had noted it was the coldest summer in decades, and the Death Eaters had laughed at their stupidity. Draco joined in, but like most of them, there was no heart in the sound. The cold and depression were the same for Muggle or wizard, and the unceasingly repressive weather was taking a toll on them all, save the Dark Lord. Draco was now utterly convinced that thing that had once been human had no heart left at all or else even he would have been unsettled by the ever present cold.
Draco was never sure if the Dementors made it cold and bleak or if the debilitating unhappiness they brought was so strong that people were actually to blame for changing the skies to grey even in the middle of July. It didn’t matter, though, not really. The effect was the same.
Draco wouldn’t be going back to Hogwarts in September. It should have been his seventh year, the one every student looked forward to with the dizzying prospect of being at the top of the school’s hierarchy. Just last year at this time he’d been bragging to Pansy and Blaise that he hoped he wouldn’t be back at all, but the words had been empty, and even then he hadn’t meant them. Now Hogwarts sounded like heaven. Anywhere that wasn’t surrounded by the Dark Lord’s infernal, constant, red-eyed presence seemed like paradise, but his parents had been told Draco was to perform certain “duties” that would prevent his attending school full time. Those tasks made the cold seep deeper into him, but it never quite numbed him. He could still feel pain.
But being away from Hogwarts would spare him one thing. He wouldn’t have to see her empty seat in class and wonder where Hermione was, if she was alive or dead in a ditch somewhere, if somehow she and St. Potter and the Weasel had succeeded in whatever mad scheme they were trying or if the last hope for ever seeing true summer again was gone for good. He didn’t have to be in class for those thoughts to press against his mind, but at least her absence wasn’t quite so keen if he wasn’t surrounded by the places where she should be. Malfoy Manor had never known her face, and with things as they were, he hoped it never would.
In spite of it all, though, when he thought of her, a secret summer warmed his heart even in the midst of the coldness and despair of a thousand shattering hopes.
ooo.&&&.ooo
REMEMBER: Vote for the NUMBER of the drabble, NOT THE NAME. It just makes it easier on the mods!
Poll