Writers Block: 32.7: Fear Voting
Banner by renrenren3
Challenge: Fear
Points: 1st/2nd/3rd/Participation Only: 50/40/30/10 points & 20/15/10/5 knuts, respectively. 2pts for voting.
Deadline: Voting until Sunday, August 15 11:59PM UTC.
Details: Use the word "fear" for your inspiration.
There are 11 stories this week! Please vote for your favorites.
Entry #1
Title: Destiny
Drip ... Drip … Drip ... Chastity put her hands over her ears. She couldn't bear listening to it anymore; it sounded like the water dripped every second-one more second she was trapped here-one more second of her life lost. Would the dripping stop when they killed her?
The door swung open startling her. Oh, Merlin, it was McNair, the one who used a giant ax. "One of your friends has come to save you. I'll wager that you want to see him," he said, smiling in a creepy way that made her stomach flip.
Chastity scrabbled back, gripping the slick mortar of the brick wall behind her and suddenly, wanting to continue listening to the dripping water of her cell very much. "I don't have any friends that would be here," she whispered, her voice rough from screaming before she'd given up on being rescued.
McNair cackled, and it was a horrible, hollow sound. "Oh, I do hope you're wrong. He's risking everything to help you escape, but to keep up appearances, you may have to beg."
"I'll stay here. I'm fine, really."
McNair smirked and pointed his wand at her. "If you won't come willingly then it's a good thing I know about Levitating beasts."
Chastity struggled to hold to the wall, breaking her nails as she was pulled toward the doorway. She grabbed the door as she passed, scrapping long lines in the wood while McNair's spell continued to pull her further and further away. There was nothing she could do but float to her destiny. No wand … No friends … No dripping …
Entry #2
Title: You have nothing to fear, if you have nothing to hide
"You have nothing to fear, if you have nothing to hide"
Oh, but Severus Snape had a lot to fear. Because he held many secrets, and all of them would cause instant death should anyone - namely the Dark Lord - find out about them. Aside from the fact that he had been secretly working for Dumbledore and was an active member of the Order of the Phoenix - which alone would carry a sentence of no less than an hour with Bellatrix and her array of torture skills - but he was also helping Harry Potter.
Severus chuckled, now that was a secret he himself had a hard time believing. But that was the truth of it wasn't it? He had taken the sword of Gryffindor - the real sword not the replica he'd asked dear Bellatrix to keep in her vault for him - and left it where Harry would certainly find it. Well - he certainly found it after his patronus led him to it.
With a heavy sigh, Severus rubbed his nose between his eyes trying to alleviate some of the stress he felt there. After all - as long as no one ever found out his secrets - then he really had nothing to fear. Right?
Entry #3
Title: Do not fear the future
There were so many things Draco had to fear. Failure was one of them. He already knew he was a failure in the eyes of his Father, no matter what he had never been good enough. He already knew the other Death Eaters looked down on him. They sneered when they spoke his name, and he knew they all secretly hoped he would fail his task. They wanted him dead. They wanted to see more disgrace befall the once noble house of Malfoy.
But what Draco was really afraid of? Was his future.
He had no doubt that he would succeed in his task. After all Dumbledore was just an old man, and a trusting one at that. Surely it would not be hard to do away with him. But then what? What would become of him then when he was no longer a boy, no longer an innocent, but a killer? Would his family regain some of their lost prestige? Would his soul be irrevocably destroyed? And what of his future? How could he hope to have children of his own one day knowing what he had done? What had been done to him.
Resting his head against the cool glass of the mirror, Draco allowed a single tear to roll down his cheek. He would not lose his composure. He would hold his head up high. And he would do what he had to do. After all, what was the point in fearing for the future when he might not live beyond next week anyway?
Taking a deep breath, he turned, and went out to face his fears.
Entry #4
Title: Pansy's Fear
She huddled in the corner of the hallway where the Room of Requirement was. She knew that was where they were hiding. She knew that there was no way that they would let her in. She was so afraid.
She heard the bell signalling the call to the Great Hall. She started to stand up, but waiting. The door opened up and a group came out quickly, led by Harry Potter. She sucked in her breath. This was her chance. She could talk to him. He could save her.
“Harry, come on. We need to go find it. Watch out for the Slytherins. They will go straight to Snape or the Carrows.”
He nodded his head as they stopped just a few feet from her hiding spot. She scooted back into the wall. “Aren’t there any that won’t fight?”
The female weasel shook her head. “No. They have been extremely joyous in their torture. Come on, we can sneak you into the Great Hall.”
Harry clasped her hand and walked down the hallway.
Pansy stood up slowly. She wrapped her arms around her body. “He won’t believe me even if I do come to him,” she whispered softly. “Maybe if we turn him in, the Dark Lord will be more forgiving?”
She followed behind the group of students. She wiped a tear from her face. “I guess it’s too late now.”
Entry #5
Title: The First Cut is the Deepest
Mummy and Daddy are yelling again. I hate it when they do that. This is usually the time when I hide under my blanket, pretending to be asleep, but that just gives me time to think...
And I can't really remember a time in my life when I wasn't afraid. Sometimes I can hear things breaking when they yell at each other. Those times are scary. The scariest times, though, are the times when the door slams and then things get quiet. Because those are always the times when I find Mummy crying on the floor, trying to hide the fact that he's given her more bruises for her to hide. She thinks I don't really understand what's going on, but... I may be only six years old, but I know enough. Maybe I don't understand all of the things they fight about, or why they fight, but I know that he hates us.
(Calls us... 'heethings'? Witches, monsters and... heethings. I think.)
I don't know what we did to deserve any of this, but lately, I can see when Daddy looks at me that he's thinking of hurting me the way he hurts Mummy. And I don't know what to do.
Entry #6
Title: Fear the One You Love
Blaise watched as his mother laid one of her slender hands across her wand. She moved it teasingly from side to side before placing it openly upon her lap.
Husband number…four? Five, perhaps? Blaise often forgot where this man fell along the string of his mother’s victims, but present spouse was overcoming his welcome quickly and it would be pointless to remember anyhow.
This husband wasn’t as dumb as those that preceded him and he took note of Blaise’s mother’s subtle actions.
Blaise recognized the look of fear that swept across the man’s face; small hints at first and then a single bead of sweat dripped from his brow and landed on his neatly pressed collar. He took several small steps backwards out of the room before turning on his heels and moving quicker down the hall.
Blaise’s mother didn’t squander him a glance. She simply sighed, picked her wand off her lap delicately and stood up straight, tall and elegant. Then she followed.
Entry #7
Title: Subtle Differences
He was just as beautiful as I remembered, just as wild-eyed and charismatic despite the decades. Ah, Gellert. Why did it have to be this way? I could have reached out and touched him, we were so close.
"So, Albus," his voice was soft and suggestive, causing my chest to tighten in memory, "you're sufficiently afraid of me at last."
I swallowed heavily, my throat dry with regret. "No, Gellert, I am at last sufficiently afraid for you."
He shook his head. "Albus, Albus...." He rolled my name through his mouth as if to savor it, and then leaned forward, catching my eyes in his. "We were great together. We could be again."
I shut my eyes tight, trying to draw a breath. "No, Gellert."
"Albus," the word was a caress, the heat of his presence curling against me, "what happened to Ariana need never happen again. Never again. What happened to your father, to your mother...never again, Albus."
"Not like this." My voice nearly strangled me coming out. "Not like this."
"Then what? You know their destruction was all caused by the same thing and we can change that. We will change that." His voice slid across my skin like silk. "As you once convinced me, my dear friend, it's for the greater good."
A cold worm of fear and temptation squirmed through me. I remembered that thought pattern all too well. “But the means we have to use, Gellert…”
His breath was coming faster now, a staccato in my ear. "Look what happens when we leave things in the hands of the incompetent." His hand touched mine, just as warm as I remembered. "And we, Albus, are anything but that. We must do what is best for the wizarding world."
His words rang through me like a bell. I opened my eyes, pressing his hand once with mine before withdrawing it. "Gellert, my friend, there is a difference between what may be best and what is right."
Darkness slammed across his face like a fortress gate. "This is your choice, then?"
"I'm afraid so."
He lifted his chin and stepped back from me, bowing once. "Then so be it. Goodbye, Albus."
I bowed back, desperate longing warring with the resolve running rampant through me. "Goodbye, Gellert."
Entry #8
Title: It's such a big scary monster (and you are such a little scared boy)
The sanctity of home falls part with the noise of quick footsteps and the yelling of foreign voices. Draco watches them and tries to keep his eyes open and emotionless. Draco hears them and tries not to cover his ears and let silence devour every word, every sound.
The Ministry men walk the corridors where he walked for the first time, they open drawers he himself has never been allowed to even peek. They raid their Manor, their house, their shelter. They had known, of course, they had been expecting this. Draco had spent sleepless nights seeing non-existing figures move in the shadows, hearing echoes of accusation resonate in the silence. Now the nightmares have caught on them, and the figures have clear faces and the echoes loud voices.
They take his father away and his mother remains firm and marvelous because the name of the family relies in how much pose and proper she acts. Draco stands near her, tempted to hold on her because she’s steady and strong and everything feels like an earthquake. Soon, he thinks, eyeing the elegant floor his father has stepped perhaps for the last time, the ground will open and swallow him, throwing him to an endless fall, a complete darkness. But when the doors shut and it’s his mother and him alone, the lights of the house stay as bright as ever.
“Draco,” her mother calls, voice forcedly calm, “I believe it’s best if you go to bed early,”
Draco says nothing and thinks of all the things that they should talk about, of what has just happened, of what could happen next. But he nods and accepts his mother’s word because there are words he can’t say and answers he doesn’t want to here. He kisses her in cheek, her tears always reaching his lips, and walks away feeling that somethings is creeping on his back. Something is clinging to him weighing him down but Draco doesn’t dare to look.
That’s his father’s legacy, the tinge of fear his icy eyes couldn’t conceal, the one part of Lucius Malfoy that’s not entirely gone from the Manor.
It follows Draco upstairs, it engulfs him and takes advantage of every crack. It creeps inside him, settles within his bones, boils in his blood and makes a home out of his mind.
And Draco feels that it’ll never go away. When the Dark Lord’s tells him his mission, fear is there, within him, roaring and whispering in between words. When he points at the necklace, fear traces its thread around his fingers and makes them tremble.
It grows fast and giant, devouring everything that Draco once was, finding new cracks, conquering more regions. Draco watches the map of the invasion spread on the mirror, and knows that he’s losing himself. With every desperate action, with every failure, it takes over him, dimming his eyes, tensing his lips and until the day he’ll be nothing but fear.
Entry #9
Title: Her Personal Nightmare
They advanced on her slowly but inexorably, claws glistening with a thick red substance that she preferred not to think about. Her heart pounded as she backed away. "Just leave me alone," she pleaded. "I haven't been bothering you."
"It's for your own good," the one on the left crooned, crimson-stained mouth stretched into a broad tooth-baring rictus.
The one on the right reached out and grabbed her arm, claws catching on the fabric of her school robes. "You'll thank us when this is over." She tried to yank her arm free, but the grip was too tight.
Suddenly, the first one grabbed her chin, claws digging in perilously close to the jugular vein. "Such pretty skin you have. Oh, yes. The things I could do with your skin..."
Hermione Granger woke up with a start and screamed, "Please don't give me a makeover!" at her roommates.
Entry #10
Title: The Smartest Witch of Her Year
The fear was real. Most people would think she was being silly, but Hermione knew better. She had a reputation to uphold and so many commitments. Even with the time turner she had given herself a ton of work to do. Hermione loved school work, but with the sheer amount of it and trying to keep up with her friends things were getting exhausting. Shutting down was not an option and neither was failing. All this work had to be done and she had to force the fear of failing to the back of her mind. She was Hermione Granger the smartest witch of her year. She just had to keep reminding herself of that.
Entry #11
Title: To Be Afraid
For as long as he could remember, Neville Longbottom had been afraid of all sorts of things. He wasn’t sure where the fears came from, but once he got older, he wondered if his grandmother had unintentionally been the cause of some of them. After all, spending his childhood hearing about how his parents had never feared anyone or anything ever hadn’t made him braver. It had just made him feel more guilty and more ashamed that he wasn’t that way too.
When Neville was small, he was afraid of the dark and all the monsters he thought were hiding in the shadows. Not the monsters that other little children feared, but the monsters that had attacked his parents and changed his life. He always thought they would come in the middle of the night and get him, too.
When he grew older, he feared his grandmother - the look in her eyes when she was disappointed in him, the bitterness in her voice when she told him how his parents had done it better. He also feared the day when he would no longer have her.
There were other things he feared at different times in his life, too - the dog that lived in the house on the corner that always growled at him and only him, the pond that was near the country home he and his gran always liked to visit because he had heard the neighborhood children saying that the water had been known to spring up and pull people in, the seven years he was going to spend at Hogwarts because he was sure he wasn’t going to make any friends and he was just going to be alone.
But one thing he never feared, or thought to fear, was facing down the darkest wizard the world had ever seen and the gigantic snake he carried with him. And when the time came, he didn’t fear it then either.
For the first time in his life, the knowledge of who he was and what he could do was greater than any possible fear. This wizard had been the reason his parents were what they were. He was the reason Dumbledore was dead, the reason Harry had just died, the reason people were standing behind Neville crying and clinging to each other.
So Neville didn’t think. He stepped up, he swung the sword and he took his chance. For once, fear did not win. And in that moment, neither did Voldemort.
~~~~~
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