One poetry challenge, two ficlet challenges
Title: After the War
Summary: After the war the days are shot with grey. Poetry challenge #27 Mud, soggy soil, ruined boots, perpetual days without sunshine, grey skies.
Characters/Pairings: Not specific
Genre: Poetry/Angst
Rating/Warnings: PG
Word Count: 178 words
After the war the days are shot with grey
And though celebrations linger and children are cheery
Our boots are muddied with wet soil
Some days it feels as if we’ve dug our own graves
If this is living, where is our sun
Where is our joy to be alive
Dennis holds Colin’s camera but there’s no photos
There’s nothing to be shot
Taking the pictures of the dead can’t be healthy
He hasn’t done it yet, but there’s a bet going
When Dennis takes his first shot
It’s the last shot of his dead brother
Funny how few pictures there are of Colin
If Dennis doesn’t stop snapping, the dead will outweigh the living
Perhaps they already do
We were all born from war
We ended up living in war
We’ve never had an after and it feels wrong
The muck of nature knows it
The stinging rain, the cold air, the grey skies
We trudge to the celebrations, forcing smiles we can’t believe
Checking our still-beating hearts
After the war our souls are shot with grey
Title: Constant Vigilance
Summary: Moody has an order for Harry. Ficlet Challenge #25: Crack Pairings
Characters/Pairings: Harry/Moody
Genre: Romance/Crack
Rating/Warnings: PG
Word Count: 262 words
“You don’t trust me, that’s good,” Alastor “Mad-Eye” Moody said.
Harry nodded uncertainly, his wand still gripped in his hand. Honestly, he knew that this Moody was not the imposter, but still, it was rather hard to reconcile.
“So ask me something only I would know.”
Harry thought for a moment. “What’s your favorite thing to drink out of your flask?”
“Water. And that was a decent question. Do you know why it’s not a good question?”
Harry slowly shook his head.
“Because that could have been tortured out of me!” Moody yelled.
Harry jumped back. Right.
“So how do you know that it’s definitely me?”
“Er…”
“You don’t.”
Moody moved closer to Harry and put a hand on his shoulder. Harry relaxed into it.
“CONSTANT VIGILANCE!” Moody roared pointing his wand at Harry.
Harry’s wand was quickly out, a protego just forming on his lips.
“You can never be certain that anyone is who they say they are. Never.” His voice was dangerous and a fluttery feeling squirmed in Harry’s chest. Moody’s voice lowered. “No matter how close, they may be.”
Harry raised his eyes to Moody’s. Well, his non-magical one anyway. The other was swiveling away checking all around him. For a moment, he thought he might’ve liked to have Moody’s full attention on him, but then, that wouldn’t be like him at all. Not one bit.
“So,” Harry began breathily, “if I end up kissing someone who looks like you…” he trailed off.
“You better at least kiss with your eyes open if you feel you must.”
Harry grinned.
Title: Harry, the Toaster, the Wallet, and a Snape
Summary: Ficlet challenge #26: I can’t talk now, I have to get my wallet out of the toaster.
Characters/Pairings: Harry Potter, Severus Snape
Genre: Humor
Rating/Warnings: PG
Word Count: 500
“Look, I can’t talk now, I have to get my wallet out of the toaster.”
“That is the most absurd excuse I’ve ever heard coming out of your ignorant mouth.”
“You come back from the dead and the first thing you do is come here and insult me?” Harry asked incredulously. “And I really do have to get my wallet out of the toaster.” He winced at the acrid smoke coming from the kitchen.
“I’m not leaving until I talk to you. And I most certainly did not ‘come back from the dead’. That’s preposterous.”
“Fine, fine.” Harry waved a hand and allowed his former professor through the door. “You can wait on the couch if you wish while I get my wallet.”
“That better not be a new euphemism for sex.”
Even though the acrid smoke was getting stronger, Harry stopped dead in his tracks with his face flushing red. His ex-professor did not just say that. He was torn between the belief that Snape should never mention sex in his presence or he should say it a lot more often.
“Don’t you have a wallet to get to, Potter?”
Damn.
“Er, yeah,” Harry answered and he awkwardly walked to the kitchen.
“Eloquent as ever, I see. Vanquishing the Dark Lord did nothing for your vocabulary.”
Harry bit back a retort and unplugged the toaster. Smoke curled up from the inside and while his wallet was a bit charred, it wasn’t a real fire. That was the last time he let Mr. Weasley experiment unsupervised. He poked his fingers into the toaster and hastily drew them back after he burnt them. Sucking his fingers, Harry searched through his drawers until he found a knife. He carefully stuck the knife into the toaster and tried to pry out his wallet.
In the living room, Snape was pacing the floor and making his displeasure be known. “You know,” he drawled, “if you are having sex, you could hurry it up. In fact, I’m rather certain that hormonal teens your age have difficulties with lasting.”
The knife slipped from Harry’s hand and he accidentally jammed it through part of the metal wire of the toaster.
“You don’t have to be so loud about it, Potter.”
Harry stood still a moment, trying to focus all his attention on the task. With the knife now stuck in the toaster, and the wallet partially melted to the inside, the machine was lost. He picked the toaster up and slammed it on to the counter.
He heard “Merlin save me from foolish Gryffindors” from the sitting room and ignored it. He grabbed the only non-melted corner of the leather and charged into the sitting room. He chucked it at Snape who deftly caught it.
Snape looked at it in disgust. “Your wallet really was in the toaster?” he asked, shocked.
“No, it was in my back pocket and magically caught fire.”
“You are a wizard, Potter.”
Harry sighed. It was going to be a long day.
Yasona/Slytherin (11+14+22) 47 points for Slytherin
Summary: After the war the days are shot with grey. Poetry challenge #27 Mud, soggy soil, ruined boots, perpetual days without sunshine, grey skies.
Characters/Pairings: Not specific
Genre: Poetry/Angst
Rating/Warnings: PG
Word Count: 178 words
After the war the days are shot with grey
And though celebrations linger and children are cheery
Our boots are muddied with wet soil
Some days it feels as if we’ve dug our own graves
If this is living, where is our sun
Where is our joy to be alive
Dennis holds Colin’s camera but there’s no photos
There’s nothing to be shot
Taking the pictures of the dead can’t be healthy
He hasn’t done it yet, but there’s a bet going
When Dennis takes his first shot
It’s the last shot of his dead brother
Funny how few pictures there are of Colin
If Dennis doesn’t stop snapping, the dead will outweigh the living
Perhaps they already do
We were all born from war
We ended up living in war
We’ve never had an after and it feels wrong
The muck of nature knows it
The stinging rain, the cold air, the grey skies
We trudge to the celebrations, forcing smiles we can’t believe
Checking our still-beating hearts
After the war our souls are shot with grey
Title: Constant Vigilance
Summary: Moody has an order for Harry. Ficlet Challenge #25: Crack Pairings
Characters/Pairings: Harry/Moody
Genre: Romance/Crack
Rating/Warnings: PG
Word Count: 262 words
“You don’t trust me, that’s good,” Alastor “Mad-Eye” Moody said.
Harry nodded uncertainly, his wand still gripped in his hand. Honestly, he knew that this Moody was not the imposter, but still, it was rather hard to reconcile.
“So ask me something only I would know.”
Harry thought for a moment. “What’s your favorite thing to drink out of your flask?”
“Water. And that was a decent question. Do you know why it’s not a good question?”
Harry slowly shook his head.
“Because that could have been tortured out of me!” Moody yelled.
Harry jumped back. Right.
“So how do you know that it’s definitely me?”
“Er…”
“You don’t.”
Moody moved closer to Harry and put a hand on his shoulder. Harry relaxed into it.
“CONSTANT VIGILANCE!” Moody roared pointing his wand at Harry.
Harry’s wand was quickly out, a protego just forming on his lips.
“You can never be certain that anyone is who they say they are. Never.” His voice was dangerous and a fluttery feeling squirmed in Harry’s chest. Moody’s voice lowered. “No matter how close, they may be.”
Harry raised his eyes to Moody’s. Well, his non-magical one anyway. The other was swiveling away checking all around him. For a moment, he thought he might’ve liked to have Moody’s full attention on him, but then, that wouldn’t be like him at all. Not one bit.
“So,” Harry began breathily, “if I end up kissing someone who looks like you…” he trailed off.
“You better at least kiss with your eyes open if you feel you must.”
Harry grinned.
Title: Harry, the Toaster, the Wallet, and a Snape
Summary: Ficlet challenge #26: I can’t talk now, I have to get my wallet out of the toaster.
Characters/Pairings: Harry Potter, Severus Snape
Genre: Humor
Rating/Warnings: PG
Word Count: 500
“Look, I can’t talk now, I have to get my wallet out of the toaster.”
“That is the most absurd excuse I’ve ever heard coming out of your ignorant mouth.”
“You come back from the dead and the first thing you do is come here and insult me?” Harry asked incredulously. “And I really do have to get my wallet out of the toaster.” He winced at the acrid smoke coming from the kitchen.
“I’m not leaving until I talk to you. And I most certainly did not ‘come back from the dead’. That’s preposterous.”
“Fine, fine.” Harry waved a hand and allowed his former professor through the door. “You can wait on the couch if you wish while I get my wallet.”
“That better not be a new euphemism for sex.”
Even though the acrid smoke was getting stronger, Harry stopped dead in his tracks with his face flushing red. His ex-professor did not just say that. He was torn between the belief that Snape should never mention sex in his presence or he should say it a lot more often.
“Don’t you have a wallet to get to, Potter?”
Damn.
“Er, yeah,” Harry answered and he awkwardly walked to the kitchen.
“Eloquent as ever, I see. Vanquishing the Dark Lord did nothing for your vocabulary.”
Harry bit back a retort and unplugged the toaster. Smoke curled up from the inside and while his wallet was a bit charred, it wasn’t a real fire. That was the last time he let Mr. Weasley experiment unsupervised. He poked his fingers into the toaster and hastily drew them back after he burnt them. Sucking his fingers, Harry searched through his drawers until he found a knife. He carefully stuck the knife into the toaster and tried to pry out his wallet.
In the living room, Snape was pacing the floor and making his displeasure be known. “You know,” he drawled, “if you are having sex, you could hurry it up. In fact, I’m rather certain that hormonal teens your age have difficulties with lasting.”
The knife slipped from Harry’s hand and he accidentally jammed it through part of the metal wire of the toaster.
“You don’t have to be so loud about it, Potter.”
Harry stood still a moment, trying to focus all his attention on the task. With the knife now stuck in the toaster, and the wallet partially melted to the inside, the machine was lost. He picked the toaster up and slammed it on to the counter.
He heard “Merlin save me from foolish Gryffindors” from the sitting room and ignored it. He grabbed the only non-melted corner of the leather and charged into the sitting room. He chucked it at Snape who deftly caught it.
Snape looked at it in disgust. “Your wallet really was in the toaster?” he asked, shocked.
“No, it was in my back pocket and magically caught fire.”
“You are a wizard, Potter.”
Harry sighed. It was going to be a long day.
Yasona/Slytherin (11+14+22) 47 points for Slytherin