Round 4 Challenge #9: Voting
Welcome to week 9 of voting for Round 4 of Dramione LDWS!!
A thousand thank-yous to pokeystar for stepping in, literally last minute, to post the prompt for this week!! It was most appreciated!
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 9!!
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, Tuesday, August 18, 2009.
PROMPT:
“Love is to the heart what the summer is to the farmer's year - it brings to harvest all the loveliest flowers of the soul.” ~Author Unknown~
1
Title: The Gift.
Author: midnight_birth
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Mild angst and ambiguity.
Word Count: 498
Jerk. Git. Monster.
Draco remembered taking pride in those names when he was young and at Hogwarts. It made him sound elite somehow, and proved Lucius’s theory that all people who were lower than the Malfoys hated them and were scared of them.
There was one person, however, whose hate he found he couldn’t stand. He wanted to hurt her, bring her down where he’d be able to stamp out her pride, make her curse and hit him, at least, like she had done in their third year. But she did none of those things. She raised her head a little higher, turned her nose away and walked by, making him feel like he was nothing. Pathetic. Unworthy.
By his sixth year, he knew only she could make him feel like something he actually was. Jerk. Git. Monster. To add salt to a wound, she was also the only person he found himself desperately wanting to understand him, to think differently, to see beyond all that. Was there anything beyond? He didn’t know anymore; he doubted it.
He bumped into her among the screaming, bleeding, fear. Her eyes widened and she jumped back. Jerk. Git. Monster. She didn’t need to say it. It was forever emblazoned in her eyes when she turned them on him.
It looked as if she didn’t even realize that he had kissed her, pushed her against the wall and stole a forbidden fruit. When he leaned away, her eyes no longer signalled the hatred or the contempt.
“You’re safe,” he whispered.
“You... care?” Her voice was quiet. The question awkward, unclear. There was so much riding on it, he realized. So much that perhaps up until then had been stifled, pushed to the very back of her consciousness. You’re not like them. You couldn’t kill him. You’re not who I thought you were.
He walked away then, to future, to consequences. He didn’t turn.
~*~
“This is not the right time.” He hadn’t expected to see her, of course. Not ever again, if he was going to be honest. He had already gotten awkward visits from friends and enemies alike, acknowledging the good he’d done, silently berating the bad.
“I have something for you.”
He steeled himself. “You should go. What would everyone think, seeing you here with me?”
He looked up to find her eyes close, and then to feel pressure on his lips, taste of lemons and a hint of Firewhiskey.
“Here.” Her voice was clear now, not afraid. Her eyes made him want to crumble to the floor.
Jerk. Git. Monster.
I forgive you.
I love you.
He let her leave. For now. There was something beyond. She had seen it, she had found it, she was the only one who ever could. He smiled and pressed his fingers to his lips. She had given him the greatest gift of all - some warmth - and he was a gentleman to say the least. He wouldn’t let a gift go unanswered.
2
Title: Floral Shorthand
Author: bookishwench
Rating: G
Warnings: none
Word Count: 499
On the first day of summer Hermione wanted to skive off work, but she was grateful she didn’t because she would have missed the first day of the mystery. Sitting on her desk was a purple hyacinth. She frowned, wondering who had left it, but plopped the flower into a mug. The next day, another hyacinth rested on her blotter. Hermione was still confused but put it in water too. Each morning an identical flower awaited her. Her Ministry colleagues made exasperating suggestions about a secret admirer, but only Draco offered a suggestion.
“Know anything about the language of flowers, Granger?” he asked.
“Not really.”
“You might try researching it,” he said, leaving abruptly.
That weekend, Hermione read purple hyacinths meant “I’m sorry” or “please forgive me.” It seemed an odd message to give via flowers, but it was intriguing.
On Monday, an iris awaited her. That night she found out irises mean “your friendship is dear to me” or “wisdom and valor.” The flower appeared again next morning, and Hermione added it to a vase charmed with an anti-wilting spell. Four irises stood there when Draco visited her next. He glanced at them, then her.
“Pretty, don’t you think?” she asked, gauging his reaction.
“If you like that sort of thing,” he said, not meeting her eyes.
“I do,” she said, smiling.
Next week, yellow tulips arrived, and Hermione learned they meant “There’s sunshine in your smile,” but Draco didn’t appear until Friday to discuss a Mermish cultural exchange. As he was about to leave, Hermione rested a hand on his arm.
“Is it you?” she asked tentatively.
He blushed but left without another word.
A gladiola arrived next. Hermione was amused to find it said “Give me a break, I’m really sincere!” She wondered why Draco was being so subtle, but if he was playing this game, she wanted a turn. Early next morning, Hermione stole into Draco’s office and laid a rose leaf on his desk, meaning “you may hope.” He was in her office before noon.
“Join me for dinner this evening?” he asked.
“Should I hand you a carnation or just say yes?” she teased.
As their relationship deepened, more flowers arrived: magenta zinnias declared lasting affection, orchids called her beautiful, and a bouquet of red roses needed no interpreter. One autumn morning she found him standing in her office, nervously holding a spider flower. He’d never given them to her himself before, always letting them speak for him.
“What does it mean?” she asked. “And don’t tell me to look it up! If you’ve got something to say, say it!”
“Elope with me,” he said, sounding almost shy. “I couldn’t say anything at first with half the wizarding world still thinking of me as a Death Eater, and later this was just easier, but if you don’t want to or it’s too quick,” he said until she put a finger to his lips.
The flowers from her vase made a lovely wedding bouquet.
3
Title: Taking Root
Author: nightfalltwen
Rating: G
Warnings: None. EWE.
Word Count: 499
"You need me," Hermione said, hands on hips.
"I do not!" Draco protested, pretending the backroom desk was not piled with bills and requests for payments and that his shop, his shop, was in danger of closing.
His father had called him a fool. His friends had already taken bets on how fast this endeavour was going to tank. He couldn't be a businessman. He couldn't be a potion shop keep. He couldn't be brave. He couldn't break free of the Dark Lord. He couldn't be a friend. He couldn't. He couldn't. He couldn't.
"Look. I get that this is a pride thing, Malfoy. But you need me. I have some ideas and I think we could save this potions shop." She looked far too eager and she pulled a thick, brown folder out of her shoulder bag. "Are you game?"
He was certain he would regret it, but he finally nodded.
&&&
Damn, damn, damn and double damn. Hermione'd been right. Draco scowled whenever he looked at the plus signs in his ledger. Her ideas. Her rather brilliant ideas had brought him up slightly. Growing his own ingredients instead of relying on what could very well be substandard, developing his own potions, working late nights with her as they tweaked old recipes to produce something new.
Something new.
She made him smile sometimes.
"Oh Draco," she brought in an armful of roots and plants. There was a smudge on her nose. When she started calling him by his first name, he didn't know. He didn't really care either. "You should see the greenhouse today. I think those are the fattest mandrakes I have ever seen."
"I'm not surprised," he sniffed, trying to be his old self, yet really having trouble connecting with it. She'd brought out something in him that he didn't even realise he had. "You've been coddling them like a hen for months. Sometimes I fear they won't be as potent because they won't be as grumpy."
"That," she dumped the produce on his prep counter. A bell tinkled when someone entered the shop. She rubbed her face and the smudge got bigger. "That is a common misconception. I'll bring some of the new research in for you to read."
"I haven't even finished the three studies you dropped off on Monday. I swear, you're worse than McGonagall," he teased then brought out his handkerchief and, without thinking, reached over to wipe the dirt from her face.
Slowly her gaze lifted to meet his. The way she looked at him was completely different. Startled and somewhat embarrassed, Draco pushed the handkerchief into her hand and excused himself. There were customers to serve. There was profit to be made. He didn't want to take the time to address that things were changing and blooming between them.
He was full of something unfamiliar. And frightening.
And more than completely welcome.
It just needed time to root itself in his heart. So he could be sure that it would flourish.
4
Title: Desperate Need
Author: __vintagebomb
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Word Count: 497
He hated that she was right, but he hated even more that he was now alone without a home or any money.
Draco contemplated his other options. The cold hard truth was finally sinking into him: no one would ever hire him because of the Mark on his forearm. Prejudice was a cruel little thing.
If only he'd been able to swallow his pride, he'd still have it all.
"Weasley? Granger, you can't be serious." He knew it had been a bad idea to let her help in the first place. It was his problem to fix, and Hermione shouldn't have been meddling in his business.
"What's wrong with working with Ron?" Hermione asked, taken aback by his tone.
"Don't you mean working under him? I refuse to work as Weasley's secretary for Merlin's sake! Do you know how degrading that is?"
"Draco, a job is a job! I thought that you were so desperate for one that you'd jump at this opportunity. Ron was nice enough to - "
"And you don't think that he's with Potter right now having a laugh at me? 'Poor ickle Malfoy. His girlfriend had to get a job for him because he can't get one himself,'" he mocked angrily.
"Of course not! Now you're being overdramatic."
"Overdramatic? You know what? Forget it, Granger. I don't want the sodding job."
"Okay! I get it. I was just trying to help you."
"Don't you ever think that maybe I don't want your help? I don't need you, Granger."
Draco winced as he recalled the last words he spoke to her. Why did he let the argument get so out of hand? Why couldn't he just be more thankful that she had been there to help him? Why did it have to take six failed job interviews and eighteen returned and unwanted resumes for him to realise that he’d committed a big mistake?
He wondered if she was still angry. He wondered if she was worried that he hadn’t returned to their flat since the night before. He wondered if she cried for hours after the fight, or if she cried at all. He wondered if she missed him. He wondered if she cared that he had even left.
For someone who claimed he didn't need Hermione, Draco thought awfully a lot about her. He was so muddled in his thoughts that he didn’t realise that someone had occupied the seat next to him until a hand rested on his.
"You might not need me, but I need you," she confessed.
He shook his head and embraced her. "I didn't mean that." Burying his face into her hair, he mumbled apologies repeatedly. “I need you, too.”
He was tainted and he had nothing to his name. For once, Draco was not at the top of the world. While Hermione claimed she needed him, it did not compare to how much he needed her to help him through the difficult path ahead of him.
ooo.&&&.ooo
REMEMBER: Vote for the NUMBER of the drabble, NOT THE NAME. It just makes it easier on the mods!
Poll
A thousand thank-yous to pokeystar for stepping in, literally last minute, to post the prompt for this week!! It was most appreciated!
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 9!!
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, Tuesday, August 18, 2009.
PROMPT:
“Love is to the heart what the summer is to the farmer's year - it brings to harvest all the loveliest flowers of the soul.” ~Author Unknown~
1
Title: The Gift.
Author: midnight_birth
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Mild angst and ambiguity.
Word Count: 498
Jerk. Git. Monster.
Draco remembered taking pride in those names when he was young and at Hogwarts. It made him sound elite somehow, and proved Lucius’s theory that all people who were lower than the Malfoys hated them and were scared of them.
There was one person, however, whose hate he found he couldn’t stand. He wanted to hurt her, bring her down where he’d be able to stamp out her pride, make her curse and hit him, at least, like she had done in their third year. But she did none of those things. She raised her head a little higher, turned her nose away and walked by, making him feel like he was nothing. Pathetic. Unworthy.
By his sixth year, he knew only she could make him feel like something he actually was. Jerk. Git. Monster. To add salt to a wound, she was also the only person he found himself desperately wanting to understand him, to think differently, to see beyond all that. Was there anything beyond? He didn’t know anymore; he doubted it.
He bumped into her among the screaming, bleeding, fear. Her eyes widened and she jumped back. Jerk. Git. Monster. She didn’t need to say it. It was forever emblazoned in her eyes when she turned them on him.
It looked as if she didn’t even realize that he had kissed her, pushed her against the wall and stole a forbidden fruit. When he leaned away, her eyes no longer signalled the hatred or the contempt.
“You’re safe,” he whispered.
“You... care?” Her voice was quiet. The question awkward, unclear. There was so much riding on it, he realized. So much that perhaps up until then had been stifled, pushed to the very back of her consciousness. You’re not like them. You couldn’t kill him. You’re not who I thought you were.
He walked away then, to future, to consequences. He didn’t turn.
~*~
“This is not the right time.” He hadn’t expected to see her, of course. Not ever again, if he was going to be honest. He had already gotten awkward visits from friends and enemies alike, acknowledging the good he’d done, silently berating the bad.
“I have something for you.”
He steeled himself. “You should go. What would everyone think, seeing you here with me?”
He looked up to find her eyes close, and then to feel pressure on his lips, taste of lemons and a hint of Firewhiskey.
“Here.” Her voice was clear now, not afraid. Her eyes made him want to crumble to the floor.
Jerk. Git. Monster.
I forgive you.
I love you.
He let her leave. For now. There was something beyond. She had seen it, she had found it, she was the only one who ever could. He smiled and pressed his fingers to his lips. She had given him the greatest gift of all - some warmth - and he was a gentleman to say the least. He wouldn’t let a gift go unanswered.
2
Title: Floral Shorthand
Author: bookishwench
Rating: G
Warnings: none
Word Count: 499
On the first day of summer Hermione wanted to skive off work, but she was grateful she didn’t because she would have missed the first day of the mystery. Sitting on her desk was a purple hyacinth. She frowned, wondering who had left it, but plopped the flower into a mug. The next day, another hyacinth rested on her blotter. Hermione was still confused but put it in water too. Each morning an identical flower awaited her. Her Ministry colleagues made exasperating suggestions about a secret admirer, but only Draco offered a suggestion.
“Know anything about the language of flowers, Granger?” he asked.
“Not really.”
“You might try researching it,” he said, leaving abruptly.
That weekend, Hermione read purple hyacinths meant “I’m sorry” or “please forgive me.” It seemed an odd message to give via flowers, but it was intriguing.
On Monday, an iris awaited her. That night she found out irises mean “your friendship is dear to me” or “wisdom and valor.” The flower appeared again next morning, and Hermione added it to a vase charmed with an anti-wilting spell. Four irises stood there when Draco visited her next. He glanced at them, then her.
“Pretty, don’t you think?” she asked, gauging his reaction.
“If you like that sort of thing,” he said, not meeting her eyes.
“I do,” she said, smiling.
Next week, yellow tulips arrived, and Hermione learned they meant “There’s sunshine in your smile,” but Draco didn’t appear until Friday to discuss a Mermish cultural exchange. As he was about to leave, Hermione rested a hand on his arm.
“Is it you?” she asked tentatively.
He blushed but left without another word.
A gladiola arrived next. Hermione was amused to find it said “Give me a break, I’m really sincere!” She wondered why Draco was being so subtle, but if he was playing this game, she wanted a turn. Early next morning, Hermione stole into Draco’s office and laid a rose leaf on his desk, meaning “you may hope.” He was in her office before noon.
“Join me for dinner this evening?” he asked.
“Should I hand you a carnation or just say yes?” she teased.
As their relationship deepened, more flowers arrived: magenta zinnias declared lasting affection, orchids called her beautiful, and a bouquet of red roses needed no interpreter. One autumn morning she found him standing in her office, nervously holding a spider flower. He’d never given them to her himself before, always letting them speak for him.
“What does it mean?” she asked. “And don’t tell me to look it up! If you’ve got something to say, say it!”
“Elope with me,” he said, sounding almost shy. “I couldn’t say anything at first with half the wizarding world still thinking of me as a Death Eater, and later this was just easier, but if you don’t want to or it’s too quick,” he said until she put a finger to his lips.
The flowers from her vase made a lovely wedding bouquet.
3
Title: Taking Root
Author: nightfalltwen
Rating: G
Warnings: None. EWE.
Word Count: 499
"You need me," Hermione said, hands on hips.
"I do not!" Draco protested, pretending the backroom desk was not piled with bills and requests for payments and that his shop, his shop, was in danger of closing.
His father had called him a fool. His friends had already taken bets on how fast this endeavour was going to tank. He couldn't be a businessman. He couldn't be a potion shop keep. He couldn't be brave. He couldn't break free of the Dark Lord. He couldn't be a friend. He couldn't. He couldn't. He couldn't.
"Look. I get that this is a pride thing, Malfoy. But you need me. I have some ideas and I think we could save this potions shop." She looked far too eager and she pulled a thick, brown folder out of her shoulder bag. "Are you game?"
He was certain he would regret it, but he finally nodded.
&&&
Damn, damn, damn and double damn. Hermione'd been right. Draco scowled whenever he looked at the plus signs in his ledger. Her ideas. Her rather brilliant ideas had brought him up slightly. Growing his own ingredients instead of relying on what could very well be substandard, developing his own potions, working late nights with her as they tweaked old recipes to produce something new.
Something new.
She made him smile sometimes.
"Oh Draco," she brought in an armful of roots and plants. There was a smudge on her nose. When she started calling him by his first name, he didn't know. He didn't really care either. "You should see the greenhouse today. I think those are the fattest mandrakes I have ever seen."
"I'm not surprised," he sniffed, trying to be his old self, yet really having trouble connecting with it. She'd brought out something in him that he didn't even realise he had. "You've been coddling them like a hen for months. Sometimes I fear they won't be as potent because they won't be as grumpy."
"That," she dumped the produce on his prep counter. A bell tinkled when someone entered the shop. She rubbed her face and the smudge got bigger. "That is a common misconception. I'll bring some of the new research in for you to read."
"I haven't even finished the three studies you dropped off on Monday. I swear, you're worse than McGonagall," he teased then brought out his handkerchief and, without thinking, reached over to wipe the dirt from her face.
Slowly her gaze lifted to meet his. The way she looked at him was completely different. Startled and somewhat embarrassed, Draco pushed the handkerchief into her hand and excused himself. There were customers to serve. There was profit to be made. He didn't want to take the time to address that things were changing and blooming between them.
He was full of something unfamiliar. And frightening.
And more than completely welcome.
It just needed time to root itself in his heart. So he could be sure that it would flourish.
4
Title: Desperate Need
Author: __vintagebomb
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Word Count: 497
He hated that she was right, but he hated even more that he was now alone without a home or any money.
Draco contemplated his other options. The cold hard truth was finally sinking into him: no one would ever hire him because of the Mark on his forearm. Prejudice was a cruel little thing.
If only he'd been able to swallow his pride, he'd still have it all.
"Weasley? Granger, you can't be serious." He knew it had been a bad idea to let her help in the first place. It was his problem to fix, and Hermione shouldn't have been meddling in his business.
"What's wrong with working with Ron?" Hermione asked, taken aback by his tone.
"Don't you mean working under him? I refuse to work as Weasley's secretary for Merlin's sake! Do you know how degrading that is?"
"Draco, a job is a job! I thought that you were so desperate for one that you'd jump at this opportunity. Ron was nice enough to - "
"And you don't think that he's with Potter right now having a laugh at me? 'Poor ickle Malfoy. His girlfriend had to get a job for him because he can't get one himself,'" he mocked angrily.
"Of course not! Now you're being overdramatic."
"Overdramatic? You know what? Forget it, Granger. I don't want the sodding job."
"Okay! I get it. I was just trying to help you."
"Don't you ever think that maybe I don't want your help? I don't need you, Granger."
Draco winced as he recalled the last words he spoke to her. Why did he let the argument get so out of hand? Why couldn't he just be more thankful that she had been there to help him? Why did it have to take six failed job interviews and eighteen returned and unwanted resumes for him to realise that he’d committed a big mistake?
He wondered if she was still angry. He wondered if she was worried that he hadn’t returned to their flat since the night before. He wondered if she cried for hours after the fight, or if she cried at all. He wondered if she missed him. He wondered if she cared that he had even left.
For someone who claimed he didn't need Hermione, Draco thought awfully a lot about her. He was so muddled in his thoughts that he didn’t realise that someone had occupied the seat next to him until a hand rested on his.
"You might not need me, but I need you," she confessed.
He shook his head and embraced her. "I didn't mean that." Burying his face into her hair, he mumbled apologies repeatedly. “I need you, too.”
He was tainted and he had nothing to his name. For once, Draco was not at the top of the world. While Hermione claimed she needed him, it did not compare to how much he needed her to help him through the difficult path ahead of him.
ooo.&&&.ooo
REMEMBER: Vote for the NUMBER of the drabble, NOT THE NAME. It just makes it easier on the mods!
Poll