Drabbly Delights for a Dear One
In honor of one of my loveliest f-listers, who is always there with an encouraging word and good cheer and silly gifs and general awesome, happiest of birthdays to my dear bendleshnitz1! I know it was yesterday, but I was pokey and only just finished this, so here's to you, bb. I tried my hand at a few pairings I thought you'd like. There's even *GASP* canon pairings! WOAH! It's all unbetated and just for fun. I hope you enjoy this!
B
First birthdays as a couple are hard, but Ginny is determined that this will be the best one Harry's ever had. The last few weeks of July are spent in a buzz of preparations, browbeating her brothers and friends into helping her host the best party ever. Molly cheerfully cooks up more than a dozen of Harry's favourite dishes. Arthur creates a statue out of his collection of whosits and whatsits galore. George selects a nice variety of fireworks, including a few that write dirty jokes in the sky and won't vanish until the laughter is loud enough. Ron and Hermione are heading up decorations. Rather, Hermione is decorating and Ron is making a mess while making great googly love eyes at Hermione whenever he thinks no one's watching. (It's the Burrow; someone's always watching!
Harry is stunned Ginny is thrilled at his grin when he walks into the garden. He eats four plates of food plus two servings of treacle tart, leaving Molly beaming. The oohs and ahhs at the fireworks give way to snickering at the naughty jokes and Molly's faux outrage at the at dirty fireworks display.
Ginny leads him aside later to give him her gift.
"For you, Harry. A poem. I know how you've always admired my skill." She smirks, clears her throat, and reads,
His hair is black as a beetle's shell
And his eyes glow green as slime
He flies a broomstick awfully well
And back off you harpies, he's mine!
Harry bites back a laugh, "You are truly the worst poet I've ever known." She gives a fake huff of indignation but lets him continue. "It's a good thing you're pretty," he says.
"Hey!" she shouts, trying to achieve a look of genuine outrage but unable to keep the laughter from flittering over her face. "And clever and funny and kind and sneaky and brilliant and lovely and ... "
She interrupts his list with a kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him close. He smells like firecracker smoke and tastes like treacle. She sighs into his mouth as the kiss deepens, warm and sweet and perfect ...
"Oy! Snoggy lovebirds!" They break apart to glare at George, who is smirking at them.
It's the Burrow; someone's always watching.
I
It was quite difficult having a best friend who had his head in the clouds and never noticed a darn thing. It was even worse when you were in love with him. Rose Weasley could attest to that. Lorcan was clever, bright, kind, and warm-hearted. He laughed at her jokes (at least when he was paying attention). He was a competent lab partner in Potions, and he was brilliant at patiently explaining the more complex Arithmancy equations with which she often struggled. He could make her day better with one tiny smile and he didn't even realise that she was a woman. Well, almost a woman at any rate. She wondered if he cared about her at all or if she was just a decent Potions partner and an acceptable library mate.
The insecurities were only fed by her boorish cousin James, who was too observant for his own good. He loved to tease her about her hair, her teeth, her gangly body that she was nowhere near growing into yet, and especially about her infatuation with the daydreaming blond Adonis of Ravenclaw Tower.
One day, determined to make him notice once and for all, Rose spent three hours taming her ridiculous bushy hair and putting on her prettiest outfit-the blue shirt her Mum had brought back from Paris and jeans that were actually long enough for her legs. Her cousin Lily loaned her some eye make up and Rose thought she'd managed rather well for her first go at it.
As she walked down to meet Lorcan in the Common Room, her heart skipped, hopped, and jumped in anticipation. Lorcan turned, saw her, paused, blinked, and said, "Was it twelve inches for Charms or fourteen?"
Rose's leaping heart plummeted and she collapsed into the chair across from him, slamming her books down with slightly more force than necessary. Blinking back tears, she whispered, "twelve." Then she opened her Charms text.
Lorcan apparently didn't notice her distress and they worked silently for more than twenty minutes before Rose reached her breaking point.
"Do you notice anything?" she hissed, grief, frustration, and confusion drowning out her reason.
"What do you mean," he asked carefully.
"I mean ... me! Do you even notice me."
"You're sitting right here. Of course I noticed you. Is this about your hair? I thought James had pulled a prank on you and messed it up again. You get so upset about that sort of thing so I didn't want to bring it up."
"My hair? No! I spent more than an hour on this!"
Eyebrows lost in his blond fringe, Lorcan mumbled, "Oh, um, it's ... nice."
"I just don't understand how we can sit here together and in classes every day and talk about so many things and be such good friends and you don't even know the first thing about me!" Rose's voice was becoming shrill and she tried to keep from shrieking or bursting into tears-she really wasn't sure which was more likely.
"You think I don't notice you? That I know nothing about you?" Lorcan's eyebrows were now squished together as his forehead crumpled with a baffled, sad look. "Rose, there's no one I notice more than you. I know when James has been tormenting you again, I know that you pretend not to smile every time you see your little brother finally making friends in Gryffindor. I know that you hate crying in public and that I shouldn't point it out when it happens, which is more than you'd like. I know that you love milk chocolate but find dark too bitter. I know you hate coffee and tea, but you insist on drinking them anyway both in an effort to stunt your own growth and not to upset your tea-crazy grandmothers.
"I know that you secretly read romance novels but keep them hidden. I know you have a soft spot for animals and wish desperately that your Mum would let you get a cat, even though you're horribly allergic. I know that you have completely different laughs depending on the situation-if something caught you by surprise, if you're only being polite, if it's family or someone you love, and if you're really tired and start giggling hysterically at nothing. I know you get really cranky when you don't eat, which is why I make sure to schedule our homework around meals and bribe the kitchens into letting me keep snacks on hand for emergencies.
"I know that you think your hair is pure chaos and that you're too tall and all awkward or something, but I don't think you're able to see the big picture. You're beautiful. Always were, even as a bucktoothed little girl with more hair than head. You trip and stumble and it's all quite endearing, because I know you and I see what your dull-witted cousin and those horrid girls in the year above us don't see: that you're going to be more gorgeous than all of them combined."
"Are you saying I'm the ugly duckling?" Rose smiled weakly, amazed at what he'd said, unsure what exactly it meant, and trying desperately not to get her hopes up.
"That would mean you were ugly now, and we both know that's not true. Besides, I'm certainly not in love with you because you're pretty. I fell in love with the way you light up with the most enormous smile at the little things, and the way you kick my butt at Wizards' Chess. Your complete inability to lie convincingly and your open heart and how you comfort the homesick little ones and then pretend it never happened. And how you do ridiculous dances when you get excited and how seriously you take your studies, even the completely pointless lessons. I fell in love with you before I even noticed how beautiful you are. Like you said, maybe I'm just not that observant."
"You ... but ... why didn't you say anything?"
"I just did."
"Prat," she said softly, feeling the flush rise up on her pale cheeks.
"Possibly," he agreed, reaching out to squeeze her hand and sending tiny shocks of electricity through her arm at the contact. Then he pulled back and went back to his notes. She gaped for a moment, wondering what had just gone wrong.
"Hey!" she said, poking him.
"What?" His huge light blue eyes seared into her, rendering her momentarily incoherent.
"I just ... you said all those things and then went back to your homework like it was nothing or something."
"Well, you didn't say anything back, so I figured that was its own answer. I'm absolutely capable of staying friends like this, Rose. I've managed just fine for years. You needn't worry."
"But I just assumed you knew! Everyone knows that I'm in love with you. They tease me constantly because I'm always mooning after you and you just keep going on, all perfect and beautiful and brilliant and oblivious. I mean, you've heard James teasing me-sometimes right in front of you!"
"James would say anything to rile you up. I take everything he says with a grain of salt. More like a tablespoon. And you never said anything yourself, so I just figured you were embarrassed by the accusations."
"Well, I was embarrassed! Because they were true! I was sitting there pining over my best friend and ... it turns out he was pining after me too. I don't mean you were pining exactly, I just ..." Rose tried to back track, worried that he'd take her words the wrong way.
"Nah, it's true."
"So, um, really?" Rose looked up at him, all her hopes and dreams resting on this one breathtaking precipice of a moment.
"Absolutely true. I love you, Rose." Then he smiled that slow, easy, lazy-looking smile that made her stomach flip and her heart race.
"I love you too, Lorcan," she whispered.
"Good."
R
The sky was too dark for mid-afternoon and the rain pounded onto the pavement in huge drops that seemed to explode on impact. Lavender pulled her purple scarf more tightly around her and hustled down the street, almost glad that the rain was drenching her face, washing away the tears, and helping her hide her pain.
Being in love was awful. Being in love with your best friend was by far worse. And worst of all? Being in love with your best friend who does not love you back and is horrified by the very thought. Yes, that was definitely the worst one.
Her thick blond hair darkened as the rain soaked through it and it hung in clumps over her shoulders. Her favourite blouse-chosen so that she'd look as fetching as possible during her ill-fated declaration of love-was rapidly deteriorating in the wet conditions and becoming quite transparent. Lavender gave a short laugh at the idea. Here she was flashing her nipples at every idiot on the London street while the one person she wished would appreciate them was comfortably warm in her bloody flat. Stupid, stupid girl. Lavender continued to berate her own stupidity as she splashed through puddles, ruining her favourite boots and staining the bottoms of her pretty turquoise trousers.
"Lavender!" The voice came from behind her, breathless and irritated. Lavender spun around to glare at her pursuer, but stopped short when she saw Parvati hurrying after her, sky high heels wobbling as she rushed over the cobblestone.
Parvati's red silk dress was ruined. The fabric was water stained and the damp material clung to her, leaving almost nothing to the imagination. Despite her humiliation and anger, Lavender couldn't help but appreciate the sight. Parvati, who was always perfectly coiffed and dressed, was drenched, breathless, and looking thoroughly dishevelled. Somehow she'd never looked more beautiful, even with the annoyed glare on her face.
"Look, you made yourself quite clear before. I won't be bothering you again," Lavender said waspishly, lashing out in her hurt state.
"You stupid cow! You can't just drop a bomb like that and expect someone to process it in two seconds. You might have given me a bloody second!"
"Yes, because waiting for you to find semi-polite words to rip out my heart sounded like a smashing good time. So sorry to have missed that." Lavender thrust her chin up proudly, unwilling to appear weak even in her pathetic-looking state.
"Or you could have kept your sodding pride in check for a minute, let it sink in, and not made me run through the street in the rain where it's damn cold out and ruin my expensive dress and almost break my ankle on that stupid kerb back there."
"You didn't have to chase me down. I got the message, Parvati. It's fine. Go back home and I'll send you a cheque to cover the dress."
"It's not about the dress! Well, it is a little because it really did look amazing on me and I got it on sale, but..."
"It still looks amazing on you," Lavender admitted quietly, averting her eyes from the darkened red fabric that clung to Parvati's thighs and displayed her impossibly perfect breasts.
"You're so stupid, you know," Parvati hissed, chest heaving and eyes flashing. She shoved her usually perfect hair out of her face and rubbed fruitlessly at her smeared eye make up.
"I'm stupid?! You are ..."
"Get over here and kiss me already, would you?" Parvati demanded, muttering under her breath, "hysterical harpy."
"I'm the harpy? That's ... wait, what?" Lavender's eyes flew back to her best friend, who was standing in her typical annoyed posture, one hand on her tilted hip, lips pursed, eyebrows raised. "Seriously?"
"Yes, and a little urgency would be nice. I'm fucking freezing here, you know."
"Well, that's what you get for being so slow," Lavender shot back, her eyes warming as she inched forward, still not quite believing that this was happening. "I always was faster than you."
"Well, at least I'm not a ..." Parvati's comeback was cut off as Lavender rushed forward and kissed her, long and deep and full of a year's worth of pent up passion. Hands slid over wet clothing, feeling the hot flesh under the thin, chilled fabric. Parvati whimpered into Lavender's mouth and wrapped one bare leg around Lavender's thigh.
Lavender heard a gasp as a passerby caught a rather scandalous glimpse of Parvati's upper leg. A fiery burst of jealousy made her pull back and twist them, Apparating into Parvati's cosy flat. Their wet clothes vanished quickly and they lost themselves in each other, affectionate insults, wet kisses, and peaks of pleasure, all while the rain continued to fall outside, a staccato soundtrack to their passion.
T
This is a little drawing I did of Lucy's wedding dress from her beach wedding to Teddy in my Teddy/Lucy fic that Bendleshnitz liked so much.
H
The spring turned to summer much more quickly in the south of France than in England. Draco shrugged off his shirt and sighed with pleasure as the sun toasted his skin. It had definitely been a good idea to take a holiday; it had been a long year. He rambled leisurely through the vast gardens of the hotel, enjoying the smell of wet earth and sun-warmed flowers. The temperature crept higher and higher as the sun rose in the sky and the sweat soaked his skin.
Spying a small pond, he briskly changed direction, hoping for a quick dip to cool off. As he cleared the trees surrounding the water, his eyes widened at the sight. On the pale sand around the water stood a tall, blond, beautiful woman ... wearing absolutely nothing.
She turned at the sound of rustling footsteps to stare at him and he was shocked to see that she didn't even bother to cover herself. Her long legs, smoothly curved hips, and small breasts in full view, she gave him a dazzling smile.
"Hi. Are you here for a swim too? It's quite hot today."
"Hot," Draco repeated foolishly.
She sauntered over, brushing her long hair behind her ear and cocking her head. "Do you want to join me?"
Draco just stared wordlessly, quite sure his mouth was gaping wide open. He'd never seen a real fully naked woman before and she had to be the most beautiful naked woman on the planet. Suddenly the dirty lads' magazines that he'd looked at with Crabbe and Goyle seemed pitiful.
"I'm Astoria," she said, laughing lightly at his bug-eyed expression. "Astoria Greengrass."
"Draco," he choked out, offering his hand in what he hoped was a jaunty sort of way. "A swim sounds brilliant."
D
Percy met the love of his life on August third at precisely nine in the morning. She was the new assistant to the Minister of Internal Affairs and had a desk right next to Percy, who was the assistant to the Minister of Magic.
Reduced to the social competence of a smitten fourth year, Percy mumbled an introduction, felt his face turn a horrifying shade of maroon, and awkwardly held out the wrong hand for her to shake, forcing her to juggle her cup of tea and stack of paperwork to respond. Mentally berating himself, Percy promised silently to do better next time.
The next day he brought her a small, pleasant-looking, non-poisonous, non-allergenic, non-shedding plant as an "office warming" gift. She smiled politely but he noticed how she conscientiously watered it and rotated it so that it got equal amounts of sun on all sides. (He wasn't sure if the fake sun of the weather charms was actually of any use to a plant but thought it was sweet all the same.)
Audrey Archer was just about Percy's age with a posh accent, a clipped tone, and an unflappable demeanour. Her long, curly hair was always wrestled back into a pretty but serviceable plait or bun, but tiny wisps sprung free by midmorning and Percy's heart beat just a bit faster each time she reached up to brush them away. Her serious brown eyes and calm expression said all business but every so often Percy would catch a little twinkle in her eyes and a twitch of amusement flirting around the her lips. She was fascinating-complex, brilliant, capable, tidy, and glorious.
For the first time ever Percy handed Minister Shacklebolt the incorrect folder with his post-lunch paperwork. The Minister began to make a comment on Percy's rare error and flustered demeanour, but he bit back his words with a knowing smirk when he noticed Percy's uncharacteristic flush and nervous glances at the new Internal Affairs Assistant, who was obliviously organising the Minister's inbox.
"Why don't you take a break and get a cup of tea, Weasley. Perhaps Miss Archer would like one as well," he suggested. She glanced up briefly and gave a distracted nod before turning back to a folder that was crawling away and hitting it with a sticking charm.
Percy came back twenty minutes later with an armful of cups. Audrey looked up as he shuffled in, moving slowly as not to upset his precarious load.
"My goodness, Percy. How many people did you get tea for?"
"Oh, erm, just you, me, and Minister Shacklebolt." She gave the pile of cups a questioning glance. Percy set down the Minister's extra strong English Breakfast, three sugars, and his own Earl Grey with a splash of milk.
"How many cups of tea did you get me?" she asked, staring at the eight remaining cups.
"Well I wasn't sure what you liked so I got English Breakfast, Earl Grey, and Peppermint, because I don't usually see you with caffeine after your midmorning cuppa. And I brought milk and some of this semi skimmed milk and a little soy milk in case you aren't able to have dairy, and some honey, some regular sugar, some calorie-free sweetener- - there are so many different colours of it these days, so I just brought a couple of each, because I didn't know what the difference was. Oh, and a bit of lemon. What would you like?" He glanced up hopefully, eager to impress her with his thoroughness.
"Just the English Breakfast would be lovely. I actually drink it plain ..." She looked almost apologetic at his supply of add-ins. At the sight of his disappointed shoulder droop she hurried to add, "Thank you-it was so sweet of you to put in such effort. I really appreciate it."
Percy handed her the plain cup of tea and nodded briskly. "It was nothing." Dropping the rest of his armload into the rubbish bin, he went back to his desk, cursing himself for appearing so stupidly overeager.
"Percy?" His head shot up at the sound of her tentative voice.
"Yes," he squeaked, then cleared his throat and tried again. "Yes?"
"I'd be happy to try this tea thing again if you wanted. Even somewhere else, you know, if you'd like."
"You mean a date?" Percy asked disbelievingly, mentally kicking himself at his shocked tone and the horrified, embarrassed expression it brought to her face.
"Never mind," she said quickly. "I just thought ..."
"No!" he shouted, glancing guilty at Shacklebolt who had looked up from his desk at the racket. "I mean, no, yes, I would want, if you want. I eat dinner. I mean, do you eat dinner? Of course you eat, I just mean ..."
She interrupted his rambling. "Are you asking me if I want to have dinner with you, Percy?"
He took in at her encouraging expression, amazed that someone so lovely and bright was even talking to him. "Yes. Yes, I am. And clearly doing a bang up job of it."
"Well, I think it's a lovely idea."
"Yeah?"
"Yes, I do. It's a date."
Percy grinned and accidentally shredded a rather important document. It was a date.
A
Dean Thomas brushed the mess of curls off of his new bride's sleeping face. Penelope's cheek was creased where it had been smushed against the pillow and her face was flushed with sleep, her mouth slightly open; she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever laid eyes on. Her eyelashes fluttered and slowly opened, her huge brown eyes blinking up at him.
"Good morning, my beautiful wife," he said, loving how she grinned and her cheeks flushed even redder.
"Good morning," she mumbled, giving him the most adorable shy and sultry gaze he'd ever seen. Groaning, he yanked her towards him, nuzzling his face in her warm neck and nibbling on her jawline.
"So, have you given any thought to where you want to go for a honeymoon?" he asked, willing to go anywhere as long as it included a private room with a big bed and good food to keep his strength up. He intended to burn a lot of calories in the bedroom on this trip.
She sighed as his mouth continued to wander and answered in a slightly distracted tone, "I was actually thinking Argentina. I've heard amazing things about it-friendly people, good food, interesting culture. Plus there are some great villas we could rent for a week, ensconce ourselves inside..."
"I'm convinced," Dean muttered, unable to let his hands stop caressing every inch of his new wife. "When's the next Portkey to Buenos Aires?"
"This afternoon, three o'clock," she said, letting out a giggle as he tickled her hip and traced silly patterns on her shoulder with his tongue.
"Done. Good bye busy, interfering real world. Hello Honeymoon in Argentina!" With that, Dean flipped her over, eliciting a delighted shriek, and began making love to his wife in earnest.
Y
Hermione Granger-Weasley returned home from a long day at work to find her house in utter shambles.
"Ron!" she shouted, pulling off her scarf and hat and setting her winter boots on the mat. "Ron! What on earth happened here? Where are you? Kids?"
When there was no answer, concern overtook her irritation. She slipped on her house shoes and began hurrying around looking for them. There was a mess of cereal and snacks all over the kitchen table but not a soul in sight. The living room was a complete mess, toys strewn everywhere and a table overturned, the lamp that had been sitting on it now in pieces in the corner. She rushed upstairs, glancing into their bedroom, Hugo's nursery, and finally arriving outside of Rose's room. The door was shut and the pink flowers she'd hung up were askew.
Hermione opened the door slowly and gasped. "What on earth happened here?" Sitting cross-legged on the floor were six guilty looking small children. Four-year-old Rose was holding her toddler brother Hugo protectively. James and Albus stared at their Aunt Hermione with wide eyes. The other two little boys were ...
"What happened here?!" She repeated, trying not to shriek and scare her children. The pair of three-year-olds who were huddled together and giving her guilty looks with very adult-looking eyes were extremely familiar looking. Her lips narrowed as she crouched down to stare her husband and her best friend in the eye.
"I know I said you two act like children, but this is rather much, don't you think, Ron? And Harry? What do you two have to say for yourselves?"
"Ginny was extra ornery today-you know how she gets when she's pregnant. And the kids were noisy and I wasn't quick enough to quiet them. Then I left the breakfast dishes out and she said I was worse than the little ones. So I took them over here to play with their cousins," Harry began.
Ron picked up where he left off, "but this afternoon Ginny Flooed over in a strop and she screamed at us and said we were children and then spun around and left without looking back. You know how wonky her magic got when she was pregnant with James and how she accidentally shrunk the house?"
"Oh, dear." Hermione stood up and smiled brightly at her fearful looking children and nephews. "All right then! Let's make a spot of dinner and see if Aunt Ginny can come by for a bit of dessert and spell reversal, shall we?"
Somehow her husband's blue eyes looked even more puppy-dog like when in the face of a three-year-old and she rather thought Harry's pitiful green-eyed pout might rip her heart in half.
"All right, all right, I'll make spaghetti." A cheer went up from all six as Hermione broke her firm No Spaghetti Because You Lot Make a Horrid Mess With It rule for the first time in over a year. She would make Ginny clean up; her sister-in-law owed them that much!
B
First birthdays as a couple are hard, but Ginny is determined that this will be the best one Harry's ever had. The last few weeks of July are spent in a buzz of preparations, browbeating her brothers and friends into helping her host the best party ever. Molly cheerfully cooks up more than a dozen of Harry's favourite dishes. Arthur creates a statue out of his collection of whosits and whatsits galore. George selects a nice variety of fireworks, including a few that write dirty jokes in the sky and won't vanish until the laughter is loud enough. Ron and Hermione are heading up decorations. Rather, Hermione is decorating and Ron is making a mess while making great googly love eyes at Hermione whenever he thinks no one's watching. (It's the Burrow; someone's always watching!
Harry is stunned Ginny is thrilled at his grin when he walks into the garden. He eats four plates of food plus two servings of treacle tart, leaving Molly beaming. The oohs and ahhs at the fireworks give way to snickering at the naughty jokes and Molly's faux outrage at the at dirty fireworks display.
Ginny leads him aside later to give him her gift.
"For you, Harry. A poem. I know how you've always admired my skill." She smirks, clears her throat, and reads,
His hair is black as a beetle's shell
And his eyes glow green as slime
He flies a broomstick awfully well
And back off you harpies, he's mine!
Harry bites back a laugh, "You are truly the worst poet I've ever known." She gives a fake huff of indignation but lets him continue. "It's a good thing you're pretty," he says.
"Hey!" she shouts, trying to achieve a look of genuine outrage but unable to keep the laughter from flittering over her face. "And clever and funny and kind and sneaky and brilliant and lovely and ... "
She interrupts his list with a kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him close. He smells like firecracker smoke and tastes like treacle. She sighs into his mouth as the kiss deepens, warm and sweet and perfect ...
"Oy! Snoggy lovebirds!" They break apart to glare at George, who is smirking at them.
It's the Burrow; someone's always watching.
I
It was quite difficult having a best friend who had his head in the clouds and never noticed a darn thing. It was even worse when you were in love with him. Rose Weasley could attest to that. Lorcan was clever, bright, kind, and warm-hearted. He laughed at her jokes (at least when he was paying attention). He was a competent lab partner in Potions, and he was brilliant at patiently explaining the more complex Arithmancy equations with which she often struggled. He could make her day better with one tiny smile and he didn't even realise that she was a woman. Well, almost a woman at any rate. She wondered if he cared about her at all or if she was just a decent Potions partner and an acceptable library mate.
The insecurities were only fed by her boorish cousin James, who was too observant for his own good. He loved to tease her about her hair, her teeth, her gangly body that she was nowhere near growing into yet, and especially about her infatuation with the daydreaming blond Adonis of Ravenclaw Tower.
One day, determined to make him notice once and for all, Rose spent three hours taming her ridiculous bushy hair and putting on her prettiest outfit-the blue shirt her Mum had brought back from Paris and jeans that were actually long enough for her legs. Her cousin Lily loaned her some eye make up and Rose thought she'd managed rather well for her first go at it.
As she walked down to meet Lorcan in the Common Room, her heart skipped, hopped, and jumped in anticipation. Lorcan turned, saw her, paused, blinked, and said, "Was it twelve inches for Charms or fourteen?"
Rose's leaping heart plummeted and she collapsed into the chair across from him, slamming her books down with slightly more force than necessary. Blinking back tears, she whispered, "twelve." Then she opened her Charms text.
Lorcan apparently didn't notice her distress and they worked silently for more than twenty minutes before Rose reached her breaking point.
"Do you notice anything?" she hissed, grief, frustration, and confusion drowning out her reason.
"What do you mean," he asked carefully.
"I mean ... me! Do you even notice me."
"You're sitting right here. Of course I noticed you. Is this about your hair? I thought James had pulled a prank on you and messed it up again. You get so upset about that sort of thing so I didn't want to bring it up."
"My hair? No! I spent more than an hour on this!"
Eyebrows lost in his blond fringe, Lorcan mumbled, "Oh, um, it's ... nice."
"I just don't understand how we can sit here together and in classes every day and talk about so many things and be such good friends and you don't even know the first thing about me!" Rose's voice was becoming shrill and she tried to keep from shrieking or bursting into tears-she really wasn't sure which was more likely.
"You think I don't notice you? That I know nothing about you?" Lorcan's eyebrows were now squished together as his forehead crumpled with a baffled, sad look. "Rose, there's no one I notice more than you. I know when James has been tormenting you again, I know that you pretend not to smile every time you see your little brother finally making friends in Gryffindor. I know that you hate crying in public and that I shouldn't point it out when it happens, which is more than you'd like. I know that you love milk chocolate but find dark too bitter. I know you hate coffee and tea, but you insist on drinking them anyway both in an effort to stunt your own growth and not to upset your tea-crazy grandmothers.
"I know that you secretly read romance novels but keep them hidden. I know you have a soft spot for animals and wish desperately that your Mum would let you get a cat, even though you're horribly allergic. I know that you have completely different laughs depending on the situation-if something caught you by surprise, if you're only being polite, if it's family or someone you love, and if you're really tired and start giggling hysterically at nothing. I know you get really cranky when you don't eat, which is why I make sure to schedule our homework around meals and bribe the kitchens into letting me keep snacks on hand for emergencies.
"I know that you think your hair is pure chaos and that you're too tall and all awkward or something, but I don't think you're able to see the big picture. You're beautiful. Always were, even as a bucktoothed little girl with more hair than head. You trip and stumble and it's all quite endearing, because I know you and I see what your dull-witted cousin and those horrid girls in the year above us don't see: that you're going to be more gorgeous than all of them combined."
"Are you saying I'm the ugly duckling?" Rose smiled weakly, amazed at what he'd said, unsure what exactly it meant, and trying desperately not to get her hopes up.
"That would mean you were ugly now, and we both know that's not true. Besides, I'm certainly not in love with you because you're pretty. I fell in love with the way you light up with the most enormous smile at the little things, and the way you kick my butt at Wizards' Chess. Your complete inability to lie convincingly and your open heart and how you comfort the homesick little ones and then pretend it never happened. And how you do ridiculous dances when you get excited and how seriously you take your studies, even the completely pointless lessons. I fell in love with you before I even noticed how beautiful you are. Like you said, maybe I'm just not that observant."
"You ... but ... why didn't you say anything?"
"I just did."
"Prat," she said softly, feeling the flush rise up on her pale cheeks.
"Possibly," he agreed, reaching out to squeeze her hand and sending tiny shocks of electricity through her arm at the contact. Then he pulled back and went back to his notes. She gaped for a moment, wondering what had just gone wrong.
"Hey!" she said, poking him.
"What?" His huge light blue eyes seared into her, rendering her momentarily incoherent.
"I just ... you said all those things and then went back to your homework like it was nothing or something."
"Well, you didn't say anything back, so I figured that was its own answer. I'm absolutely capable of staying friends like this, Rose. I've managed just fine for years. You needn't worry."
"But I just assumed you knew! Everyone knows that I'm in love with you. They tease me constantly because I'm always mooning after you and you just keep going on, all perfect and beautiful and brilliant and oblivious. I mean, you've heard James teasing me-sometimes right in front of you!"
"James would say anything to rile you up. I take everything he says with a grain of salt. More like a tablespoon. And you never said anything yourself, so I just figured you were embarrassed by the accusations."
"Well, I was embarrassed! Because they were true! I was sitting there pining over my best friend and ... it turns out he was pining after me too. I don't mean you were pining exactly, I just ..." Rose tried to back track, worried that he'd take her words the wrong way.
"Nah, it's true."
"So, um, really?" Rose looked up at him, all her hopes and dreams resting on this one breathtaking precipice of a moment.
"Absolutely true. I love you, Rose." Then he smiled that slow, easy, lazy-looking smile that made her stomach flip and her heart race.
"I love you too, Lorcan," she whispered.
"Good."
R
The sky was too dark for mid-afternoon and the rain pounded onto the pavement in huge drops that seemed to explode on impact. Lavender pulled her purple scarf more tightly around her and hustled down the street, almost glad that the rain was drenching her face, washing away the tears, and helping her hide her pain.
Being in love was awful. Being in love with your best friend was by far worse. And worst of all? Being in love with your best friend who does not love you back and is horrified by the very thought. Yes, that was definitely the worst one.
Her thick blond hair darkened as the rain soaked through it and it hung in clumps over her shoulders. Her favourite blouse-chosen so that she'd look as fetching as possible during her ill-fated declaration of love-was rapidly deteriorating in the wet conditions and becoming quite transparent. Lavender gave a short laugh at the idea. Here she was flashing her nipples at every idiot on the London street while the one person she wished would appreciate them was comfortably warm in her bloody flat. Stupid, stupid girl. Lavender continued to berate her own stupidity as she splashed through puddles, ruining her favourite boots and staining the bottoms of her pretty turquoise trousers.
"Lavender!" The voice came from behind her, breathless and irritated. Lavender spun around to glare at her pursuer, but stopped short when she saw Parvati hurrying after her, sky high heels wobbling as she rushed over the cobblestone.
Parvati's red silk dress was ruined. The fabric was water stained and the damp material clung to her, leaving almost nothing to the imagination. Despite her humiliation and anger, Lavender couldn't help but appreciate the sight. Parvati, who was always perfectly coiffed and dressed, was drenched, breathless, and looking thoroughly dishevelled. Somehow she'd never looked more beautiful, even with the annoyed glare on her face.
"Look, you made yourself quite clear before. I won't be bothering you again," Lavender said waspishly, lashing out in her hurt state.
"You stupid cow! You can't just drop a bomb like that and expect someone to process it in two seconds. You might have given me a bloody second!"
"Yes, because waiting for you to find semi-polite words to rip out my heart sounded like a smashing good time. So sorry to have missed that." Lavender thrust her chin up proudly, unwilling to appear weak even in her pathetic-looking state.
"Or you could have kept your sodding pride in check for a minute, let it sink in, and not made me run through the street in the rain where it's damn cold out and ruin my expensive dress and almost break my ankle on that stupid kerb back there."
"You didn't have to chase me down. I got the message, Parvati. It's fine. Go back home and I'll send you a cheque to cover the dress."
"It's not about the dress! Well, it is a little because it really did look amazing on me and I got it on sale, but..."
"It still looks amazing on you," Lavender admitted quietly, averting her eyes from the darkened red fabric that clung to Parvati's thighs and displayed her impossibly perfect breasts.
"You're so stupid, you know," Parvati hissed, chest heaving and eyes flashing. She shoved her usually perfect hair out of her face and rubbed fruitlessly at her smeared eye make up.
"I'm stupid?! You are ..."
"Get over here and kiss me already, would you?" Parvati demanded, muttering under her breath, "hysterical harpy."
"I'm the harpy? That's ... wait, what?" Lavender's eyes flew back to her best friend, who was standing in her typical annoyed posture, one hand on her tilted hip, lips pursed, eyebrows raised. "Seriously?"
"Yes, and a little urgency would be nice. I'm fucking freezing here, you know."
"Well, that's what you get for being so slow," Lavender shot back, her eyes warming as she inched forward, still not quite believing that this was happening. "I always was faster than you."
"Well, at least I'm not a ..." Parvati's comeback was cut off as Lavender rushed forward and kissed her, long and deep and full of a year's worth of pent up passion. Hands slid over wet clothing, feeling the hot flesh under the thin, chilled fabric. Parvati whimpered into Lavender's mouth and wrapped one bare leg around Lavender's thigh.
Lavender heard a gasp as a passerby caught a rather scandalous glimpse of Parvati's upper leg. A fiery burst of jealousy made her pull back and twist them, Apparating into Parvati's cosy flat. Their wet clothes vanished quickly and they lost themselves in each other, affectionate insults, wet kisses, and peaks of pleasure, all while the rain continued to fall outside, a staccato soundtrack to their passion.
T
This is a little drawing I did of Lucy's wedding dress from her beach wedding to Teddy in my Teddy/Lucy fic that Bendleshnitz liked so much.
H
The spring turned to summer much more quickly in the south of France than in England. Draco shrugged off his shirt and sighed with pleasure as the sun toasted his skin. It had definitely been a good idea to take a holiday; it had been a long year. He rambled leisurely through the vast gardens of the hotel, enjoying the smell of wet earth and sun-warmed flowers. The temperature crept higher and higher as the sun rose in the sky and the sweat soaked his skin.
Spying a small pond, he briskly changed direction, hoping for a quick dip to cool off. As he cleared the trees surrounding the water, his eyes widened at the sight. On the pale sand around the water stood a tall, blond, beautiful woman ... wearing absolutely nothing.
She turned at the sound of rustling footsteps to stare at him and he was shocked to see that she didn't even bother to cover herself. Her long legs, smoothly curved hips, and small breasts in full view, she gave him a dazzling smile.
"Hi. Are you here for a swim too? It's quite hot today."
"Hot," Draco repeated foolishly.
She sauntered over, brushing her long hair behind her ear and cocking her head. "Do you want to join me?"
Draco just stared wordlessly, quite sure his mouth was gaping wide open. He'd never seen a real fully naked woman before and she had to be the most beautiful naked woman on the planet. Suddenly the dirty lads' magazines that he'd looked at with Crabbe and Goyle seemed pitiful.
"I'm Astoria," she said, laughing lightly at his bug-eyed expression. "Astoria Greengrass."
"Draco," he choked out, offering his hand in what he hoped was a jaunty sort of way. "A swim sounds brilliant."
D
Percy met the love of his life on August third at precisely nine in the morning. She was the new assistant to the Minister of Internal Affairs and had a desk right next to Percy, who was the assistant to the Minister of Magic.
Reduced to the social competence of a smitten fourth year, Percy mumbled an introduction, felt his face turn a horrifying shade of maroon, and awkwardly held out the wrong hand for her to shake, forcing her to juggle her cup of tea and stack of paperwork to respond. Mentally berating himself, Percy promised silently to do better next time.
The next day he brought her a small, pleasant-looking, non-poisonous, non-allergenic, non-shedding plant as an "office warming" gift. She smiled politely but he noticed how she conscientiously watered it and rotated it so that it got equal amounts of sun on all sides. (He wasn't sure if the fake sun of the weather charms was actually of any use to a plant but thought it was sweet all the same.)
Audrey Archer was just about Percy's age with a posh accent, a clipped tone, and an unflappable demeanour. Her long, curly hair was always wrestled back into a pretty but serviceable plait or bun, but tiny wisps sprung free by midmorning and Percy's heart beat just a bit faster each time she reached up to brush them away. Her serious brown eyes and calm expression said all business but every so often Percy would catch a little twinkle in her eyes and a twitch of amusement flirting around the her lips. She was fascinating-complex, brilliant, capable, tidy, and glorious.
For the first time ever Percy handed Minister Shacklebolt the incorrect folder with his post-lunch paperwork. The Minister began to make a comment on Percy's rare error and flustered demeanour, but he bit back his words with a knowing smirk when he noticed Percy's uncharacteristic flush and nervous glances at the new Internal Affairs Assistant, who was obliviously organising the Minister's inbox.
"Why don't you take a break and get a cup of tea, Weasley. Perhaps Miss Archer would like one as well," he suggested. She glanced up briefly and gave a distracted nod before turning back to a folder that was crawling away and hitting it with a sticking charm.
Percy came back twenty minutes later with an armful of cups. Audrey looked up as he shuffled in, moving slowly as not to upset his precarious load.
"My goodness, Percy. How many people did you get tea for?"
"Oh, erm, just you, me, and Minister Shacklebolt." She gave the pile of cups a questioning glance. Percy set down the Minister's extra strong English Breakfast, three sugars, and his own Earl Grey with a splash of milk.
"How many cups of tea did you get me?" she asked, staring at the eight remaining cups.
"Well I wasn't sure what you liked so I got English Breakfast, Earl Grey, and Peppermint, because I don't usually see you with caffeine after your midmorning cuppa. And I brought milk and some of this semi skimmed milk and a little soy milk in case you aren't able to have dairy, and some honey, some regular sugar, some calorie-free sweetener- - there are so many different colours of it these days, so I just brought a couple of each, because I didn't know what the difference was. Oh, and a bit of lemon. What would you like?" He glanced up hopefully, eager to impress her with his thoroughness.
"Just the English Breakfast would be lovely. I actually drink it plain ..." She looked almost apologetic at his supply of add-ins. At the sight of his disappointed shoulder droop she hurried to add, "Thank you-it was so sweet of you to put in such effort. I really appreciate it."
Percy handed her the plain cup of tea and nodded briskly. "It was nothing." Dropping the rest of his armload into the rubbish bin, he went back to his desk, cursing himself for appearing so stupidly overeager.
"Percy?" His head shot up at the sound of her tentative voice.
"Yes," he squeaked, then cleared his throat and tried again. "Yes?"
"I'd be happy to try this tea thing again if you wanted. Even somewhere else, you know, if you'd like."
"You mean a date?" Percy asked disbelievingly, mentally kicking himself at his shocked tone and the horrified, embarrassed expression it brought to her face.
"Never mind," she said quickly. "I just thought ..."
"No!" he shouted, glancing guilty at Shacklebolt who had looked up from his desk at the racket. "I mean, no, yes, I would want, if you want. I eat dinner. I mean, do you eat dinner? Of course you eat, I just mean ..."
She interrupted his rambling. "Are you asking me if I want to have dinner with you, Percy?"
He took in at her encouraging expression, amazed that someone so lovely and bright was even talking to him. "Yes. Yes, I am. And clearly doing a bang up job of it."
"Well, I think it's a lovely idea."
"Yeah?"
"Yes, I do. It's a date."
Percy grinned and accidentally shredded a rather important document. It was a date.
A
Dean Thomas brushed the mess of curls off of his new bride's sleeping face. Penelope's cheek was creased where it had been smushed against the pillow and her face was flushed with sleep, her mouth slightly open; she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever laid eyes on. Her eyelashes fluttered and slowly opened, her huge brown eyes blinking up at him.
"Good morning, my beautiful wife," he said, loving how she grinned and her cheeks flushed even redder.
"Good morning," she mumbled, giving him the most adorable shy and sultry gaze he'd ever seen. Groaning, he yanked her towards him, nuzzling his face in her warm neck and nibbling on her jawline.
"So, have you given any thought to where you want to go for a honeymoon?" he asked, willing to go anywhere as long as it included a private room with a big bed and good food to keep his strength up. He intended to burn a lot of calories in the bedroom on this trip.
She sighed as his mouth continued to wander and answered in a slightly distracted tone, "I was actually thinking Argentina. I've heard amazing things about it-friendly people, good food, interesting culture. Plus there are some great villas we could rent for a week, ensconce ourselves inside..."
"I'm convinced," Dean muttered, unable to let his hands stop caressing every inch of his new wife. "When's the next Portkey to Buenos Aires?"
"This afternoon, three o'clock," she said, letting out a giggle as he tickled her hip and traced silly patterns on her shoulder with his tongue.
"Done. Good bye busy, interfering real world. Hello Honeymoon in Argentina!" With that, Dean flipped her over, eliciting a delighted shriek, and began making love to his wife in earnest.
Y
Hermione Granger-Weasley returned home from a long day at work to find her house in utter shambles.
"Ron!" she shouted, pulling off her scarf and hat and setting her winter boots on the mat. "Ron! What on earth happened here? Where are you? Kids?"
When there was no answer, concern overtook her irritation. She slipped on her house shoes and began hurrying around looking for them. There was a mess of cereal and snacks all over the kitchen table but not a soul in sight. The living room was a complete mess, toys strewn everywhere and a table overturned, the lamp that had been sitting on it now in pieces in the corner. She rushed upstairs, glancing into their bedroom, Hugo's nursery, and finally arriving outside of Rose's room. The door was shut and the pink flowers she'd hung up were askew.
Hermione opened the door slowly and gasped. "What on earth happened here?" Sitting cross-legged on the floor were six guilty looking small children. Four-year-old Rose was holding her toddler brother Hugo protectively. James and Albus stared at their Aunt Hermione with wide eyes. The other two little boys were ...
"What happened here?!" She repeated, trying not to shriek and scare her children. The pair of three-year-olds who were huddled together and giving her guilty looks with very adult-looking eyes were extremely familiar looking. Her lips narrowed as she crouched down to stare her husband and her best friend in the eye.
"I know I said you two act like children, but this is rather much, don't you think, Ron? And Harry? What do you two have to say for yourselves?"
"Ginny was extra ornery today-you know how she gets when she's pregnant. And the kids were noisy and I wasn't quick enough to quiet them. Then I left the breakfast dishes out and she said I was worse than the little ones. So I took them over here to play with their cousins," Harry began.
Ron picked up where he left off, "but this afternoon Ginny Flooed over in a strop and she screamed at us and said we were children and then spun around and left without looking back. You know how wonky her magic got when she was pregnant with James and how she accidentally shrunk the house?"
"Oh, dear." Hermione stood up and smiled brightly at her fearful looking children and nephews. "All right then! Let's make a spot of dinner and see if Aunt Ginny can come by for a bit of dessert and spell reversal, shall we?"
Somehow her husband's blue eyes looked even more puppy-dog like when in the face of a three-year-old and she rather thought Harry's pitiful green-eyed pout might rip her heart in half.
"All right, all right, I'll make spaghetti." A cheer went up from all six as Hermione broke her firm No Spaghetti Because You Lot Make a Horrid Mess With It rule for the first time in over a year. She would make Ginny clean up; her sister-in-law owed them that much!