FIC: In the Eye of the Beholder | Cho/Marietta | PG
Title: In the Eye of the Beholder
Characters: Cho Chang/Marietta Edgecombe
Rating: PG
Word Count: 337
Author’s Note: Written for gamma_x_orionis for rarepair_shorts' Summer Shorts Event. The prompt was beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Thanks to elle_blessing for the quickie beta!
Twice a day Cho contemplates smashing the mirrors in their house: once in the morning and once at night.
In the morning, they take turns at the vanity. Cho’s morning routine is simple: just some moisturizer that her mother won’t stop sending her and a couple spare cosmetics charms. It takes her five minutes and then she stumbles away to put the pot on to boil.
Then, she watches her lover from the doorway with a cup of tea in each hand.
Marietta begins each day with a soft, resigned sigh as she looks in the mirror. Between her and the glass lays a small army of Muggle cosmetics that she uses to wage war against the scars on her face, no longer red but the pale pearlescent white of old wounds.
SNEAK, the spots still faintly spell, five years later.
“You’re beautiful,” Cho says and sets the spare tea cup on the vanity.
Marietta’s mouth twists into a rueful smile as she picks up a bottle of concealer, the first layer of many. “I will be in thirty minutes.”
Now it’s Cho’s turn to sigh.
In the evening, after their shower, Marietta stands in front of the bathroom mirror, looking at herself now that the illusion of make-up has been washed away. Her lips press together in disappointment that the scars hadn’t swirled down the drain as well.
Sensing her thoughts, Cho wraps her arms around Marietta’s waist, plays with the elastic of her knickers. “It’s a pity you’re clean. I’m only going to get you dirty again.”
The red-head giggles but doesn’t move toward the door like Cho had hoped. Instead, she grabs a bottle of ointment. It’s something Muggle with words like Vitamin E and cocoa butter printed on it. Guaranteed to make scars fade, it says.
“You don’t need it,” she says between laying butterfly kisses on Marietta’s bare collarbone.
“I’ll be to bed in a moment,” Marietta replies, untwisting the cap of ointment and leaning in to the mirror.
Away from Cho.
Characters: Cho Chang/Marietta Edgecombe
Rating: PG
Word Count: 337
Author’s Note: Written for gamma_x_orionis for rarepair_shorts' Summer Shorts Event. The prompt was beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Thanks to elle_blessing for the quickie beta!
Twice a day Cho contemplates smashing the mirrors in their house: once in the morning and once at night.
In the morning, they take turns at the vanity. Cho’s morning routine is simple: just some moisturizer that her mother won’t stop sending her and a couple spare cosmetics charms. It takes her five minutes and then she stumbles away to put the pot on to boil.
Then, she watches her lover from the doorway with a cup of tea in each hand.
Marietta begins each day with a soft, resigned sigh as she looks in the mirror. Between her and the glass lays a small army of Muggle cosmetics that she uses to wage war against the scars on her face, no longer red but the pale pearlescent white of old wounds.
SNEAK, the spots still faintly spell, five years later.
“You’re beautiful,” Cho says and sets the spare tea cup on the vanity.
Marietta’s mouth twists into a rueful smile as she picks up a bottle of concealer, the first layer of many. “I will be in thirty minutes.”
Now it’s Cho’s turn to sigh.
In the evening, after their shower, Marietta stands in front of the bathroom mirror, looking at herself now that the illusion of make-up has been washed away. Her lips press together in disappointment that the scars hadn’t swirled down the drain as well.
Sensing her thoughts, Cho wraps her arms around Marietta’s waist, plays with the elastic of her knickers. “It’s a pity you’re clean. I’m only going to get you dirty again.”
The red-head giggles but doesn’t move toward the door like Cho had hoped. Instead, she grabs a bottle of ointment. It’s something Muggle with words like Vitamin E and cocoa butter printed on it. Guaranteed to make scars fade, it says.
“You don’t need it,” she says between laying butterfly kisses on Marietta’s bare collarbone.
“I’ll be to bed in a moment,” Marietta replies, untwisting the cap of ointment and leaning in to the mirror.
Away from Cho.