Thank yous and drabbles
eruantale, I got your card! Thank you sosomuch! :) *hugs*
miladyhawke: your parcel arrived, and turned me into a mushy puddle of awww, which I will probably be for quite a while. The card is simply gorgeous, as is the music, and the rest has been put to good use, too ;). I’m again reminded of how lucky I am to have met so many wonderful, interesting and talented people online. Whatever they say, real friendships can be forged over the internet, and should be cherished when they do happen.
In real world, however, somebody snatched my life from me sometime last week and returned it fully booked. I’ve only had a chance to skim my flist a couple of times in the past five days, and I know there’s a bunch of fic and fanart I hope to catch up with later this week.
On New Year’s Eve I heard a most amusing and, it should be added, entirely fictional rumour about myself. Supposedly, I’m pregnant. I’m extremely tempted to put this back into circulation after spicing it up with some more untruthful information, possibly ‘insider knowledge’ that I’ve been converted to a mysterious cult and have no idea who the father of my imaginary spawn is. Or something along those lines. I'd love to see what shape that would take before coming back to me again.
Meanwhile, my holiday drabbles are late, for which I apologise. Here are the first three; the second batch should be up in a couple of days. Please feel free to point out mistakes if I’ve made any, as these are entirely unbetaed. And technically speaking they’re not drabbles, but two double drabbles and one 2 ¾ drabble. I fail at minimalism. Tame as they come, although one is rated PG for mild girl-on-girl action.
I hope you enjoy!
* * *
For kenazfiction:
Whimpering
(Remus Lupin, Severus Snape, G, 200 words. There may be slash, but only if you want to read it that way.)
Severus Snape doesn’t like Remus Lupin. Especially when Lupin is whimpering.
“Oh, cut the sad puppy routine,” he snaps as he enters Lupin’s chamber somewhere below Hogwarts and places a large metal pot on the floor. “You have it easy. What I wouldn’t give to have some peace and quiet on a day like this.”
Lupin growls and bares his teeth.
“Yes, I’m sure you’d be more than happy to give me a werewolf bite to spare me from future social situations,” Snape continues, “but one should draw the line somewhere, wouldn’t you agree?”
Snape lifts the lid of the pot. Lupin sniffs the air hopefully.
“I did indeed bring you food.” Snape picks three large chunks of meat from the pot and throws them to Lupin. “Very rare, just the way you like it.”
Lupin stares at him for a good while with his clear, cold wolf eyes and finally gives a series of short barking noises.
“Merry Christmas to you too, Lupin,” Snape says wearily. “Just don’t get any ideas. I still don’t like you any more than you like me.”
He isn’t sure what a smiling werewolf looks like, but he suspects he is looking at one.
* * *
For dynastessa:
Standing on the Brink
(Lord Asriel/Mrs. Coulter, G, 200 words)
The man is tall and dark as evening shadow, and the restless flickering of his eyes reveals he is not listening to the short, red-haired scientist who is talking to him.
The woman is beautiful and treacherous as morning mist, and the frozen smile on her lips reveals she is only pretending to pay attention to her husband’s long-winded explanation of the official relations between the church and the government.
The man and the woman are standing on the brink, on opposite sides of a room full of people. They have not seen each other yet, not exchanged their first formal greeting and read the undertones of mutual interest hidden in it. But while they will remain unaware of each other’s existence for a few more minutes, the forces that will tear the fabric of their world and many others apart are already on the move.
If anyone looked, they would see two daemons staring at each other, alert and bursting with intense fascination. They would see the golden monkey reach for the snow leopard and caress its white fur sensuously, eyes half-closed in pleasure.
And if they listened closely enough, they might hear the snow leopard purr in anticipation.
* * *
For kainoliero:
Hide and Seek
(Hermione/Fleur, PG, 275 words)
Hermione is hiding, or so she thinks, until Fleur bursts through the faint noises of the Yule Ball, through the rose bushes, and puts her hand over Hermione’s mouth. She is pale as silver and paper in the twilight.
Heavier steps - Roger’s, guesses Hermione - sweep by and disappear. Fleur’s hand drops to Hermione’s waist and she smiles, as if they’re best friends, as if they’re in this together.
“What are you doing?” Hermione asks breathlessly.
“Playing ‘ide and seek,” Fleur says. “What are you doing?”
Hermione shrugs. Fleur looks at her intently, her smile swallowed by sudden seriousness.
“Nobody should be ‘iding alone in the bushes on a night like zis.”
“There’s nobody I want to hide with.”
Fleur seems as if she is about to say something, but she doesn’t. Her fingers are soft and cold on Hermione’s cheek, her scent crisp and fresh as first snow on tree branches. Hermione feels her breath on her neck, the smoothness of her skin under the silver-grey dress robes.
Fleur’s eyes are dark, as she leans in closer, and her lips are warm, and her kiss is slow. Her breasts are heaving against Hermione’s. Hermione feels hair begin to escape from the knot at the back of her neck as Fleur’s fingers dig into it, and holds on to Fleur more tightly.
When Fleur withdraws, Hermione says,
“I don’t even like you.”
Fleur smiles.
“I know.” And she is gone, a luminous figure breaking free of the web of branches and leaves and shimmering fairy-light.
Hermione wonders if she should follow, but then she hears Roger’s footsteps, hears their shared laughter.
She stays in the shadow.
* * *
Next up: starbuckx, secant and dead_damien.
miladyhawke: your parcel arrived, and turned me into a mushy puddle of awww, which I will probably be for quite a while. The card is simply gorgeous, as is the music, and the rest has been put to good use, too ;). I’m again reminded of how lucky I am to have met so many wonderful, interesting and talented people online. Whatever they say, real friendships can be forged over the internet, and should be cherished when they do happen.
In real world, however, somebody snatched my life from me sometime last week and returned it fully booked. I’ve only had a chance to skim my flist a couple of times in the past five days, and I know there’s a bunch of fic and fanart I hope to catch up with later this week.
On New Year’s Eve I heard a most amusing and, it should be added, entirely fictional rumour about myself. Supposedly, I’m pregnant. I’m extremely tempted to put this back into circulation after spicing it up with some more untruthful information, possibly ‘insider knowledge’ that I’ve been converted to a mysterious cult and have no idea who the father of my imaginary spawn is. Or something along those lines. I'd love to see what shape that would take before coming back to me again.
Meanwhile, my holiday drabbles are late, for which I apologise. Here are the first three; the second batch should be up in a couple of days. Please feel free to point out mistakes if I’ve made any, as these are entirely unbetaed. And technically speaking they’re not drabbles, but two double drabbles and one 2 ¾ drabble. I fail at minimalism. Tame as they come, although one is rated PG for mild girl-on-girl action.
I hope you enjoy!
* * *
For kenazfiction:
Whimpering
(Remus Lupin, Severus Snape, G, 200 words. There may be slash, but only if you want to read it that way.)
Severus Snape doesn’t like Remus Lupin. Especially when Lupin is whimpering.
“Oh, cut the sad puppy routine,” he snaps as he enters Lupin’s chamber somewhere below Hogwarts and places a large metal pot on the floor. “You have it easy. What I wouldn’t give to have some peace and quiet on a day like this.”
Lupin growls and bares his teeth.
“Yes, I’m sure you’d be more than happy to give me a werewolf bite to spare me from future social situations,” Snape continues, “but one should draw the line somewhere, wouldn’t you agree?”
Snape lifts the lid of the pot. Lupin sniffs the air hopefully.
“I did indeed bring you food.” Snape picks three large chunks of meat from the pot and throws them to Lupin. “Very rare, just the way you like it.”
Lupin stares at him for a good while with his clear, cold wolf eyes and finally gives a series of short barking noises.
“Merry Christmas to you too, Lupin,” Snape says wearily. “Just don’t get any ideas. I still don’t like you any more than you like me.”
He isn’t sure what a smiling werewolf looks like, but he suspects he is looking at one.
* * *
For dynastessa:
Standing on the Brink
(Lord Asriel/Mrs. Coulter, G, 200 words)
The man is tall and dark as evening shadow, and the restless flickering of his eyes reveals he is not listening to the short, red-haired scientist who is talking to him.
The woman is beautiful and treacherous as morning mist, and the frozen smile on her lips reveals she is only pretending to pay attention to her husband’s long-winded explanation of the official relations between the church and the government.
The man and the woman are standing on the brink, on opposite sides of a room full of people. They have not seen each other yet, not exchanged their first formal greeting and read the undertones of mutual interest hidden in it. But while they will remain unaware of each other’s existence for a few more minutes, the forces that will tear the fabric of their world and many others apart are already on the move.
If anyone looked, they would see two daemons staring at each other, alert and bursting with intense fascination. They would see the golden monkey reach for the snow leopard and caress its white fur sensuously, eyes half-closed in pleasure.
And if they listened closely enough, they might hear the snow leopard purr in anticipation.
* * *
For kainoliero:
Hide and Seek
(Hermione/Fleur, PG, 275 words)
Hermione is hiding, or so she thinks, until Fleur bursts through the faint noises of the Yule Ball, through the rose bushes, and puts her hand over Hermione’s mouth. She is pale as silver and paper in the twilight.
Heavier steps - Roger’s, guesses Hermione - sweep by and disappear. Fleur’s hand drops to Hermione’s waist and she smiles, as if they’re best friends, as if they’re in this together.
“What are you doing?” Hermione asks breathlessly.
“Playing ‘ide and seek,” Fleur says. “What are you doing?”
Hermione shrugs. Fleur looks at her intently, her smile swallowed by sudden seriousness.
“Nobody should be ‘iding alone in the bushes on a night like zis.”
“There’s nobody I want to hide with.”
Fleur seems as if she is about to say something, but she doesn’t. Her fingers are soft and cold on Hermione’s cheek, her scent crisp and fresh as first snow on tree branches. Hermione feels her breath on her neck, the smoothness of her skin under the silver-grey dress robes.
Fleur’s eyes are dark, as she leans in closer, and her lips are warm, and her kiss is slow. Her breasts are heaving against Hermione’s. Hermione feels hair begin to escape from the knot at the back of her neck as Fleur’s fingers dig into it, and holds on to Fleur more tightly.
When Fleur withdraws, Hermione says,
“I don’t even like you.”
Fleur smiles.
“I know.” And she is gone, a luminous figure breaking free of the web of branches and leaves and shimmering fairy-light.
Hermione wonders if she should follow, but then she hears Roger’s footsteps, hears their shared laughter.
She stays in the shadow.
* * *
Next up: starbuckx, secant and dead_damien.