[Harry Potter] Drabbles: Fairy Tales & Asking For Help
'Cause I have nothing new to share, I'll be fixing up my drabbles for the drabble tag and such and posting them up for easier listing in the fic list. Will not be spamming, though, no worries. Just a two-in-one type deal once a day, promise.
Title: Fairy Tales
Prompt: Narcissa, book - suggested by dexstarr
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 238
This was the best part of the book, the part where the prince finds the princess and they live happily ever after. Boring. Narcissa tossed it aside. She really needed new books. Was this Andromeda's idea of a joke, to ply her with Muggle fairy tales for Christmas?
"Darling, have you seen my shoes?" Lucius stepped out of the adjoining bedroom and into the sitting room, looking handsome in his full-suit ensemble. The first few buttons of the silk white shirt were undone and her eyes were drawn to the pale, milky flesh underneath. His tie hung loosely around his neck, yet to be tied, and she smirked.
Getting to her feet slowly, she made her way over just as slowly, swinging her hips just a little bit for emphasis in her silvery blue cocktail dress. He must have liked what he saw because his eyes traveled over her as much as she had him moments ago. She stopped in front of him, walking her fingers up his chest. "No, I haven't seen your shoes, love. But how about we forget about the Christmas party this evening?"
Lucius was quick to nod, his own smirk taking shape. "If you insist."
"Oh, I do." That would teach Andromeda to send her Muggle books. See if she went to any parties hosted by Muggle-loving fools. Fairy tales were disgustingly non-accurate. The wicked witch could live just as happily ever after.
Title: Asking For Help
Prompt: Horace Slughorn/Fleur, pictures - drabble tag with scarysnapey
Rating: PG
Warnings: My horrible first attempt at Fleur’s accent. ;;
Word Count: 287
“And ‘ere we ‘ave my favourite!” Fleur grinned widely as she pointed to her husband in the photo album. “Zat is our little girl, Victoire.” She tapped the bundle of pink in the photo being held by Bill, one pudgy little fist waving at the camera. “You will soon have her at ‘Ogwarts, of course.”
“Of course,” guffawed Horace Slughorn before taking another sip of his wine. “Now I imagine you didn’t call me over for a lesson in your family history, mademoiselle. What is it I can help you with?”
Fleur shut the photo album and sighed, looking away and towards the window. “She is out with Bill at the moment, but I would like you to examine Victoire. She ‘as … she ‘as been ill.” Her blue eyes were fierce when she turned back to face her guest. “I am afraid she may ‘ave been poisoned. Zeir are still zee Death Eaters who were nevair found, no?”
Horace swallowed more wine and grimaced. “True, but what would you have me do?”
Flipping the photo album back open, she slammed it front of Horace, hand on the page. “You will ‘elp ‘er, of course!” She removed her hand, glaring, and a picture of her ten-year-old daughter was revealed, a tired look in the young girl’s brown eyes, her blond hair flowing out behind her much like her mother’s.
There was a moment’s pause from Horace and then he nodded, sitting his empty glass down. “Of course. I will return later.” He stood, ready to depart. “I must collect a few things.”
“If you ‘skip out’ on me, Monsieur Slughorn, you will be vairy sorry.”
For a second, Horace could have sworn her eyes were spitting fire.
Title: Fairy Tales
Prompt: Narcissa, book - suggested by dexstarr
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 238
This was the best part of the book, the part where the prince finds the princess and they live happily ever after. Boring. Narcissa tossed it aside. She really needed new books. Was this Andromeda's idea of a joke, to ply her with Muggle fairy tales for Christmas?
"Darling, have you seen my shoes?" Lucius stepped out of the adjoining bedroom and into the sitting room, looking handsome in his full-suit ensemble. The first few buttons of the silk white shirt were undone and her eyes were drawn to the pale, milky flesh underneath. His tie hung loosely around his neck, yet to be tied, and she smirked.
Getting to her feet slowly, she made her way over just as slowly, swinging her hips just a little bit for emphasis in her silvery blue cocktail dress. He must have liked what he saw because his eyes traveled over her as much as she had him moments ago. She stopped in front of him, walking her fingers up his chest. "No, I haven't seen your shoes, love. But how about we forget about the Christmas party this evening?"
Lucius was quick to nod, his own smirk taking shape. "If you insist."
"Oh, I do." That would teach Andromeda to send her Muggle books. See if she went to any parties hosted by Muggle-loving fools. Fairy tales were disgustingly non-accurate. The wicked witch could live just as happily ever after.
Title: Asking For Help
Prompt: Horace Slughorn/Fleur, pictures - drabble tag with scarysnapey
Rating: PG
Warnings: My horrible first attempt at Fleur’s accent. ;;
Word Count: 287
“And ‘ere we ‘ave my favourite!” Fleur grinned widely as she pointed to her husband in the photo album. “Zat is our little girl, Victoire.” She tapped the bundle of pink in the photo being held by Bill, one pudgy little fist waving at the camera. “You will soon have her at ‘Ogwarts, of course.”
“Of course,” guffawed Horace Slughorn before taking another sip of his wine. “Now I imagine you didn’t call me over for a lesson in your family history, mademoiselle. What is it I can help you with?”
Fleur shut the photo album and sighed, looking away and towards the window. “She is out with Bill at the moment, but I would like you to examine Victoire. She ‘as … she ‘as been ill.” Her blue eyes were fierce when she turned back to face her guest. “I am afraid she may ‘ave been poisoned. Zeir are still zee Death Eaters who were nevair found, no?”
Horace swallowed more wine and grimaced. “True, but what would you have me do?”
Flipping the photo album back open, she slammed it front of Horace, hand on the page. “You will ‘elp ‘er, of course!” She removed her hand, glaring, and a picture of her ten-year-old daughter was revealed, a tired look in the young girl’s brown eyes, her blond hair flowing out behind her much like her mother’s.
There was a moment’s pause from Horace and then he nodded, sitting his empty glass down. “Of course. I will return later.” He stood, ready to depart. “I must collect a few things.”
“If you ‘skip out’ on me, Monsieur Slughorn, you will be vairy sorry.”
For a second, Horace could have sworn her eyes were spitting fire.