Round 6, Challenge #8: Grand Finale
Confused about which fork to use? Generally speaking, you start with the outermost one, and work your way in. Don’t forget to put your napkin in your lap … It’s time for the week eight Feast of Love!
Welcome all to the sumptuous 4 course meal of the "Grand Finale"
A couple of things to remember when deciding which drabbles to vote for (most and least favorite):
Guidelines:
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
Please remember writers, that you may not vote for yourselves.
Here we go for week Eight!
Choose your favorite and least favorite drabbles. Favorites will receive +1 point per vote, and least favorites -1 point per vote.
Voting ends at 11:59pm, Friday, April 16th.
DRABBLE ONE
Anybody who believes that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach flunked geography. ~Robert Byrne
1
Title:Special Delivery
Author:bookishwench
Rating:G
Warning(s):none
Word Count:499
“I hate this holiday,” Hermione said to Ginny as they sat by the Gryffindor fire. “It’s stupid, inane, banal, Medieval…”
“Sour grapes much?” Ginny said, grinning.
“You do realize St. Valentine, if he ever existed, was a celibate virgin who was stoned to death,” Hermione said, throwing a half empty box of Ice Mice into the flames and listening to it chatter in protest.
Ginny laughed, which infuriated Hermione more, and stowed her books back in her bag.
“Sorry to miss the rest of the explanation of why Valentine’s Day is a misogynistic, anachronistic nightmare, but I have a date with Blaise,” she said, “and if you tell Ron, I’ll hex you into next month. Ta!”
“A Slytherin?” Hermione mumbled in shock as Ginny climbed through the portrait hole. “Is she mad?”
Sighing, she headed up to bed, intent on getting a decent night’s sleep instead of pining away like some saccharine heroine in a Victorian novel. The fifth year girls’ dormitory was empty. Hermione was quite pleased to have the room to herself as privacy was extremely hard to come by at Hogwarts.
Suddenly, there was a tap on her window. Grunting angrily, she stomped to the window and threw it open to reveal a package on the ledge. The owl who delivered it had gone. Curious, Hermione unwrapped the parcel and found a heart-shaped biscuit and a note in elegant handwriting that said, “From your secret admirer.”
Hermione took a careful bite and began to smile.
The next night when she was alone in the dormitory again, another tap came, and another biscuit and identical note arrived. The scene repeated itself until Valentine’s Day, and each time she arrived too late to see the owl. Finally, determined to discover the identity of her admirer, she camped out by the window, barely daring to blink in case she might miss the mysterious owl again.
She was not prepared to see Malfoy’s eagle owl land gracefully on the sill and stare at her, head cocked to one side, the familiar bundle held in its talons.
“Malfoy?” Hermione said, shocked. “It can’t be!”
The owl gave her a withering look and left the parcel behind, winging off into the night. She opened it and read the note. This one was different.
“Yes, it’s me. You wouldn’t have seen the owl if I didn’t want you to. Tomorrow you can pretend none of this ever happened, or you can take a hell of a risk… that is if your oft-touted Gryffindor courage is up to it.”
Hermione read it several times, considering the situation as she nibbled the biscuit.
The next morning in Potions, she took a deep breath and walked towards the tables where the Slytherins usually sat.
“Is this spot taken?” she asked Draco evenly, nodding at the empty seat next to him.
He gave her a surprisingly warm smile, one that made her heart flutter in a completely ridiculous and wonderful way, and then said, “It is now.”
2
Title: Of Truths and Serums
Author:terrayn
Rating: PG
Warning(s): none
Word Count: 599
The truth was often unpleasant.
In the case of underpaid, overworked Ministry employees poisoned at a holiday party with Veritaserum-spiked flour, ‘unpleasant’ was more like someone sneezing in your face, and while you’re wiping your cheek, picking up the nearest sharp edge and slugging you. They’re lumpy heart-shaped cookies, Draco thought, a dead giveaway someone’s trying too hard to make them look harmless.
To his left:
“-don’t even try to deny it! Everyone knows you fudged those budget numbers to get me sacked,” screeched Romilda Vane of Pest Advisory.
Katrina Keener of Goblin Liaison fired back, “After you drugged my boyfriend! Love potion chocolates? Really? What are you-a third year?”
To his right:
Lenny Tinks said to Michael Wormwood, best friend and adjacent cubicle-occupier, “Listen, mate, it was just the once! Was thinking about you the whole time, and I daresay, so was your wife-” whereupon his former best friend picked up the eggnog ladle and clubbed him.
Draco pondered his options. He could, one: mine his co-workers for blackmail material or two: get out while the getting was still good.
“Oh fudge,” someone murmured behind him.
He turned to find Granger glaring at their brawling colleagues who had, up until five minutes ago, resembled civilized, if rather allergic to intelligence or any semblance of wit, people. He chose option three: blackmail Granger. “This prissy, killyjoy front really isn’t an act, is it?” he said. “You can’t curse even with your inhibitions magicked away.”
“Malfoy,” she jabbed a finger at him, “if I find out you’re responsible, I will slap you black and blue, see if I won’t-”
“Don’t hold back,” said Draco sarcastically. “Tell me what you really think of me.”
It took him a long second to process that statement. Her eyes widening in dismay, Granger gritted her teeth and fought furiously not to answer. “No, it’s not an act!” burst out of her. “I really am as dowdy and uptight as you think. And everything’s horrid and mad and I think I’ve got a brain tumor because I have this ridiculous idea that the most exciting part of my day is trading pithy insults with you after morning meetings-”
She clamped a hand over her mouth, mortified. Draco tried not to gape. “Come again?”
She mumbled incoherently until he jerked her hand away. Then she blurted, “You heard me the first time, you tosser! Every time you nod off during my presentations with that sleepy, condescending smile I want to grab you and shake you into a concussion or-or kiss you into paying attention to me. And then there’s your hair!”
“What?”
“It’s shiny. And soft. Makes me delusional and think you’re good-looking!”
He wondered if someone had put hallucinogens in the eggnog. “Granger, you…like me?”
She swallowed hard. “No! I don’t know. Yes,” she said, horrified. “I get a swooping feeling in my stomach every time I look at you because I’m this hopelessly romantic girl who thinks you only pick on me because you might like me, too. Oh God, I’ll have to Obliviate myself after this. Or you-no, definitely you!”
Draco laughed. “What, and make me have to spike cookies all over again?”
“So it was you!” she breathed and moved to throttle him with murder in her narrowed eyes.
He evaded behind the refreshment table and snatched a cookie. He bit into it, smiling crookedly. “And now we’re even. Ask away. But just for the record,” he said, “you are a hopelessly romantic girl and I was only picking on you because I like you, too.”
DRABBLE TWO
Freestyle: must include your favourite meal AND must be 350 words EXACTLY
A
Title: Something True
Author:terrayn
Rating: PG
Warning(s): none
Word Count: 350
Listen. Just listen, Hermione.
You said, Tell
I don’t believe in the fatalistic bullshit gauzy-cloaked women are always peddling. I believe in rhythm. People who can have everything only want comfort. I get up and balance numbers in ledgers, then lunch, and more ledgers, then dinner from that takeaway place with to-die-for Mongolian beef, my only concession to Muggle living, and maybe a scotch or two, then sleep, and waking up, rinse and repeat. That’s rhythm, same and safe and always.
me
Then there’s you, and you don’t fit. You’re this pinpoint of pain in my side, the way bone aches in the cold (when you’re gone) and suffocation flares in the chest (when you’re here), tight and breathless burns I want to make a wound that bleeds in instead of out, all heated edges and sharp anticipation, until I’m lightheaded for you. Sometimes, after the third or fourth scotch, I think I want to be something for you.
something
You’re this maddeningly hopeful girl, wrapped in your upward glances and motivational speeches. Yes, you’ve warped me. But don’t get me wrong. I’m not waxing rhapsodic about a good girl saving a bad guy-you can’t and you didn’t-but if I have to snatch some words out of the air and name the difference when I’m with you, it’s that…I laugh more.
true.
Don’t put that four-lettered box around us. This can’t be love. Love’s when a woman waits up every night and her husband returns with diamond bribes to forget, and she accepts. Love’s when a boy carves ink into his wrist for a father’s approving nod and after it gets real, barely manages not to splash his shoes with sick. Love’s when a man finds everyone else unworthy so the only people left, pure of blood, are the only ones he can love.
Tell me something true.
This is true: Everything about you breaks rhythm.
This is also true: You make the past feel past. What do you say to scraping off the residue from those other definitions of love and making a new one someday?
Yes.
B
Title:Time Change
Author:bookishwench
Rating:PG
Warning(s):mild innuendo
Word Count:350
The dinner had been wonderful. The Chicken Toscana looked like an illustration from a cookbook, right down to the garnish of parsley. Gourmet ice cream sat in the freezer while its topping, a puddle of fudgy ecstasy, waited in a chafing dish.
It was still waiting six hours later, now reduced to an indeterminate sludge of questionable parentage. The untouched food remained on the table, cold as snow, but nowhere near as cold as the look Hermione gave Draco when she was startled awake as he Flooed into the dining room.
Draco stared at the now ruined repast and then at his wife, who was threatening to murder him with the sparks crackling in her eyes.
“Hi?” he said, smiling with trepidation.
She sat perfectly still for a count of three, then exploded.
“Where were you! I took those ridiculous lessons with Molly, who kept clucking disapprovingly every other minute, I made all this, waited up for you for hours, and you’re late and smell of Ogden’s!” she shrieked.
“Settle down, pet,” he said, taking her gently by the shoulders. “Tonight was Blaise’s bachelor party, remember? They moved the date from the seventh back to the fourth because of the Quidditch finals.”
“But today’s the fifth, and more specifically, it’s your birthday!” she said, still furious.
“Well, now it is, what with it being three in the morning,” Draco said, then groaned in realization. “You were using the calendar in Father’s old study, weren’t you.”
“Yes,” Hermione said. “Why?”
“It runs a day fast unless the person looking at it is pureblood. You haven’t had a day off work in a month, so it’s no wonder you didn’t notice,” Draco said, but he couldn’t help chuckling.
“I’ve been running a day fast for the last month.”
“Apparently.”
“I really loathe your father,” she said, rubbing her forehead. “I’m sorry.”
“As it’s my birthday, I think a more thorough apology is in order. Perhaps upstairs?” he suggested, waggling his eyebrows.
Her overwrought expression changed to unabashed lust, and in a moment the uneaten dinner was the only occupant of the room.
ooo
REMEMBER: Vote for the NUMBER and LETTER of the drabble, NOT THE NAME. It just makes it easier on the mods!
Please leave both a MOST favorite and a LEAST favorite vote. We must have both in order for your votes to count. There are TWO submit poll buttons. Pleas vote in BOTH polls. THANK YOU!
Poll Round 6 Challenge 8-1
Poll Round 6 Challenge 8-2
For readers, supporters, lovers of everything dramione -
Copy & Paste from the Box
http://community.livejournal.com/dramione_ldws/74374.html" target="_blank">
http://i138.photobucket.com/albums/q243/pokeystar/comms/ldwsvotingbannercopy.jpg">
Eat, Drink and Be Merry at the Feast of Love!
Click the Ticket to Read & Vote!
This Week: GRAND FINALE!
Voting ends 11:59 EST (GMT -4) April 16th
To Get this Pretty for your Journal - Spread the Drabble Love!
Eat, Drink and Be Merry at the Feast of Love!
Click the Ticket to Read & Vote!
This Week: GRAND FINALE!
Voting ends 11:59 EST (GMT -4) April 16th
Please spread the word and thanks for dropping by!
Welcome all to the sumptuous 4 course meal of the "Grand Finale"
A couple of things to remember when deciding which drabbles to vote for (most and least favorite):
Guidelines:
- Which drabble best incorporates the prompt?
- Is the drabble clever, different, fresh? Does it evoke an emotional response (good or bad)?
- Does the drabble contain grammar, canon or spelling errors?
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
Please remember writers, that you may not vote for yourselves.
Here we go for week Eight!
Choose your favorite and least favorite drabbles. Favorites will receive +1 point per vote, and least favorites -1 point per vote.
Voting ends at 11:59pm, Friday, April 16th.
DRABBLE ONE
Anybody who believes that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach flunked geography. ~Robert Byrne
1
Title:Special Delivery
Author:bookishwench
Rating:G
Warning(s):none
Word Count:499
“I hate this holiday,” Hermione said to Ginny as they sat by the Gryffindor fire. “It’s stupid, inane, banal, Medieval…”
“Sour grapes much?” Ginny said, grinning.
“You do realize St. Valentine, if he ever existed, was a celibate virgin who was stoned to death,” Hermione said, throwing a half empty box of Ice Mice into the flames and listening to it chatter in protest.
Ginny laughed, which infuriated Hermione more, and stowed her books back in her bag.
“Sorry to miss the rest of the explanation of why Valentine’s Day is a misogynistic, anachronistic nightmare, but I have a date with Blaise,” she said, “and if you tell Ron, I’ll hex you into next month. Ta!”
“A Slytherin?” Hermione mumbled in shock as Ginny climbed through the portrait hole. “Is she mad?”
Sighing, she headed up to bed, intent on getting a decent night’s sleep instead of pining away like some saccharine heroine in a Victorian novel. The fifth year girls’ dormitory was empty. Hermione was quite pleased to have the room to herself as privacy was extremely hard to come by at Hogwarts.
Suddenly, there was a tap on her window. Grunting angrily, she stomped to the window and threw it open to reveal a package on the ledge. The owl who delivered it had gone. Curious, Hermione unwrapped the parcel and found a heart-shaped biscuit and a note in elegant handwriting that said, “From your secret admirer.”
Hermione took a careful bite and began to smile.
The next night when she was alone in the dormitory again, another tap came, and another biscuit and identical note arrived. The scene repeated itself until Valentine’s Day, and each time she arrived too late to see the owl. Finally, determined to discover the identity of her admirer, she camped out by the window, barely daring to blink in case she might miss the mysterious owl again.
She was not prepared to see Malfoy’s eagle owl land gracefully on the sill and stare at her, head cocked to one side, the familiar bundle held in its talons.
“Malfoy?” Hermione said, shocked. “It can’t be!”
The owl gave her a withering look and left the parcel behind, winging off into the night. She opened it and read the note. This one was different.
“Yes, it’s me. You wouldn’t have seen the owl if I didn’t want you to. Tomorrow you can pretend none of this ever happened, or you can take a hell of a risk… that is if your oft-touted Gryffindor courage is up to it.”
Hermione read it several times, considering the situation as she nibbled the biscuit.
The next morning in Potions, she took a deep breath and walked towards the tables where the Slytherins usually sat.
“Is this spot taken?” she asked Draco evenly, nodding at the empty seat next to him.
He gave her a surprisingly warm smile, one that made her heart flutter in a completely ridiculous and wonderful way, and then said, “It is now.”
2
Title: Of Truths and Serums
Author:terrayn
Rating: PG
Warning(s): none
Word Count: 599
The truth was often unpleasant.
In the case of underpaid, overworked Ministry employees poisoned at a holiday party with Veritaserum-spiked flour, ‘unpleasant’ was more like someone sneezing in your face, and while you’re wiping your cheek, picking up the nearest sharp edge and slugging you. They’re lumpy heart-shaped cookies, Draco thought, a dead giveaway someone’s trying too hard to make them look harmless.
To his left:
“-don’t even try to deny it! Everyone knows you fudged those budget numbers to get me sacked,” screeched Romilda Vane of Pest Advisory.
Katrina Keener of Goblin Liaison fired back, “After you drugged my boyfriend! Love potion chocolates? Really? What are you-a third year?”
To his right:
Lenny Tinks said to Michael Wormwood, best friend and adjacent cubicle-occupier, “Listen, mate, it was just the once! Was thinking about you the whole time, and I daresay, so was your wife-” whereupon his former best friend picked up the eggnog ladle and clubbed him.
Draco pondered his options. He could, one: mine his co-workers for blackmail material or two: get out while the getting was still good.
“Oh fudge,” someone murmured behind him.
He turned to find Granger glaring at their brawling colleagues who had, up until five minutes ago, resembled civilized, if rather allergic to intelligence or any semblance of wit, people. He chose option three: blackmail Granger. “This prissy, killyjoy front really isn’t an act, is it?” he said. “You can’t curse even with your inhibitions magicked away.”
“Malfoy,” she jabbed a finger at him, “if I find out you’re responsible, I will slap you black and blue, see if I won’t-”
“Don’t hold back,” said Draco sarcastically. “Tell me what you really think of me.”
It took him a long second to process that statement. Her eyes widening in dismay, Granger gritted her teeth and fought furiously not to answer. “No, it’s not an act!” burst out of her. “I really am as dowdy and uptight as you think. And everything’s horrid and mad and I think I’ve got a brain tumor because I have this ridiculous idea that the most exciting part of my day is trading pithy insults with you after morning meetings-”
She clamped a hand over her mouth, mortified. Draco tried not to gape. “Come again?”
She mumbled incoherently until he jerked her hand away. Then she blurted, “You heard me the first time, you tosser! Every time you nod off during my presentations with that sleepy, condescending smile I want to grab you and shake you into a concussion or-or kiss you into paying attention to me. And then there’s your hair!”
“What?”
“It’s shiny. And soft. Makes me delusional and think you’re good-looking!”
He wondered if someone had put hallucinogens in the eggnog. “Granger, you…like me?”
She swallowed hard. “No! I don’t know. Yes,” she said, horrified. “I get a swooping feeling in my stomach every time I look at you because I’m this hopelessly romantic girl who thinks you only pick on me because you might like me, too. Oh God, I’ll have to Obliviate myself after this. Or you-no, definitely you!”
Draco laughed. “What, and make me have to spike cookies all over again?”
“So it was you!” she breathed and moved to throttle him with murder in her narrowed eyes.
He evaded behind the refreshment table and snatched a cookie. He bit into it, smiling crookedly. “And now we’re even. Ask away. But just for the record,” he said, “you are a hopelessly romantic girl and I was only picking on you because I like you, too.”
DRABBLE TWO
Freestyle: must include your favourite meal AND must be 350 words EXACTLY
A
Title: Something True
Author:terrayn
Rating: PG
Warning(s): none
Word Count: 350
Listen. Just listen, Hermione.
You said, Tell
I don’t believe in the fatalistic bullshit gauzy-cloaked women are always peddling. I believe in rhythm. People who can have everything only want comfort. I get up and balance numbers in ledgers, then lunch, and more ledgers, then dinner from that takeaway place with to-die-for Mongolian beef, my only concession to Muggle living, and maybe a scotch or two, then sleep, and waking up, rinse and repeat. That’s rhythm, same and safe and always.
me
Then there’s you, and you don’t fit. You’re this pinpoint of pain in my side, the way bone aches in the cold (when you’re gone) and suffocation flares in the chest (when you’re here), tight and breathless burns I want to make a wound that bleeds in instead of out, all heated edges and sharp anticipation, until I’m lightheaded for you. Sometimes, after the third or fourth scotch, I think I want to be something for you.
something
You’re this maddeningly hopeful girl, wrapped in your upward glances and motivational speeches. Yes, you’ve warped me. But don’t get me wrong. I’m not waxing rhapsodic about a good girl saving a bad guy-you can’t and you didn’t-but if I have to snatch some words out of the air and name the difference when I’m with you, it’s that…I laugh more.
true.
Don’t put that four-lettered box around us. This can’t be love. Love’s when a woman waits up every night and her husband returns with diamond bribes to forget, and she accepts. Love’s when a boy carves ink into his wrist for a father’s approving nod and after it gets real, barely manages not to splash his shoes with sick. Love’s when a man finds everyone else unworthy so the only people left, pure of blood, are the only ones he can love.
Tell me something true.
This is true: Everything about you breaks rhythm.
This is also true: You make the past feel past. What do you say to scraping off the residue from those other definitions of love and making a new one someday?
Yes.
B
Title:Time Change
Author:bookishwench
Rating:PG
Warning(s):mild innuendo
Word Count:350
The dinner had been wonderful. The Chicken Toscana looked like an illustration from a cookbook, right down to the garnish of parsley. Gourmet ice cream sat in the freezer while its topping, a puddle of fudgy ecstasy, waited in a chafing dish.
It was still waiting six hours later, now reduced to an indeterminate sludge of questionable parentage. The untouched food remained on the table, cold as snow, but nowhere near as cold as the look Hermione gave Draco when she was startled awake as he Flooed into the dining room.
Draco stared at the now ruined repast and then at his wife, who was threatening to murder him with the sparks crackling in her eyes.
“Hi?” he said, smiling with trepidation.
She sat perfectly still for a count of three, then exploded.
“Where were you! I took those ridiculous lessons with Molly, who kept clucking disapprovingly every other minute, I made all this, waited up for you for hours, and you’re late and smell of Ogden’s!” she shrieked.
“Settle down, pet,” he said, taking her gently by the shoulders. “Tonight was Blaise’s bachelor party, remember? They moved the date from the seventh back to the fourth because of the Quidditch finals.”
“But today’s the fifth, and more specifically, it’s your birthday!” she said, still furious.
“Well, now it is, what with it being three in the morning,” Draco said, then groaned in realization. “You were using the calendar in Father’s old study, weren’t you.”
“Yes,” Hermione said. “Why?”
“It runs a day fast unless the person looking at it is pureblood. You haven’t had a day off work in a month, so it’s no wonder you didn’t notice,” Draco said, but he couldn’t help chuckling.
“I’ve been running a day fast for the last month.”
“Apparently.”
“I really loathe your father,” she said, rubbing her forehead. “I’m sorry.”
“As it’s my birthday, I think a more thorough apology is in order. Perhaps upstairs?” he suggested, waggling his eyebrows.
Her overwrought expression changed to unabashed lust, and in a moment the uneaten dinner was the only occupant of the room.
ooo
REMEMBER: Vote for the NUMBER and LETTER of the drabble, NOT THE NAME. It just makes it easier on the mods!
Please leave both a MOST favorite and a LEAST favorite vote. We must have both in order for your votes to count. There are TWO submit poll buttons. Pleas vote in BOTH polls. THANK YOU!
Poll Round 6 Challenge 8-1
Poll Round 6 Challenge 8-2
For readers, supporters, lovers of everything dramione -
Copy & Paste from the Box
Eat, Drink and Be Merry at the Feast of Love!
Click the Ticket to Read & Vote!
This Week: GRAND FINALE!
Voting ends 11:59 EST (GMT -4) April 16th
To Get this Pretty for your Journal - Spread the Drabble Love!
Eat, Drink and Be Merry at the Feast of Love!
Click the Ticket to Read & Vote!
This Week: GRAND FINALE!
Voting ends 11:59 EST (GMT -4) April 16th
Please spread the word and thanks for dropping by!