And the other discontinued fics...
Here are the other ones.
Spiked Eggnog
Rating: I barely wrote anything, so K+
Reason of Abandonment: Never wrote more. Good reason.
Note: This was going to be for the Christmas Challenge at Granger Enchanted. It was going to be quite strange, too. Everyone was going to sing to their secret admirers due to, er, spiked eggnog. I wish I had gotten around to Ron's song. He was going to sing "Lavender Blue" to Lavender Brown, and she was going to sing all of the girl parts while on her tiptoes, being extremely dramatic and operatic. lol
Spiked Eggnog
On the night of December 23rd, it was snowing. Actually, there was a blizzard. But no one seemed to notice the least bit because who cares about a blizzard when you have magic to protect you?
Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley sidled out of the fireplace, arm-in-arm, feeling pretty good about the fact that they both had dates to the party, that is, they were with one another. Harry was with Ginny, earning several second glances because, well, Harry was Harry.
“Friends and countrymen, lend me your ears,” George Weasley said in a big, booming voice, earning a groan here and a nervous laugh there. “Oh, come on! You can’t tell me the ear humor is getting old already, can you?” He sighed. “Anyway, I’ve invited you all here for a night of fun and merriment ‘cause let’s face it, it’s about time! Now, for your listening pleasure, whether you have one ear or two, I present…” He mumbled something unintelligible between a cough and a laugh.
“What did he say?” Ginny asked, her arm linked with Harry’s.
“I have no idea…”
“Please, help yourselves to some refreshment while we wait for the entertainment to begin,” George added, the faintest glimmer of mischief on his features.
“Well, if that doesn’t scare you, I don’t know what will,” Ron stated, staring at his brother with skepticism etched thoroughly across his brow.
“Oh, I know what will,” Hermione said in an undertone.
“What?” In reply, she merely pointed in the direction of the fireplace. Draco Malfoy stood looking ill-at-ease, hand being tugged at by Pansy Parkinson, who was wearing pepto bismal pink robes. “What the bloody-” Ron began before Hermione stomped on his foot.
“Language, Ron. Honestly,” she said, shaking her curly head in disdain.
“Bandage,” Ron finished lamely, “is he doing here?”
“Or her, for that matter,” Hermione said, leveling an evil gaze at the squashed-faced girl.
The Day Pigs Fly
Rating: K+
Reason of Abandonment: I originally just had the first two lines stuck in my head for... three years or something, and decided I might as well type it out. Then I didn't really know what else to write.
The Day Pigs Fly
By Marmalade Fever
A.N.: This is post DH, but does not go along with the events of the epilogue.
Disclaimer: I do not own nor claim Harry Potter and any/all related insignia, the property of J.K. Rowling. No profit is being made.
The day Draco Malfoy proposed to Hermione Granger was the same day Bud McMurphy’s prize-winning sow, Chopsy, spontaneously sprouted a pair of wings after eating a mysterious piece of candy in a Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes wrapper. And, although no one had actually said that he would propose “the day pigs fly,” it certainly turned out to be true.
It started like this:
Hermione Granger had been feeling extremely depressed ever since her relationship with Ron Weasley came to a crashing halt after they had been going out for one year, five months, three days, nine hours and twenty-two minutes. It was Ron’s fault entirely. He’d been doing an excellent job playing the caring boyfriend, but, as is the problem with Ron, he ended up pulling a Ron. Pulling a Ron here means that he did something quite idiotic, much like his wonderful idea to go out with Lavender rather than with Hermione in the first place.
Ron had actually responded to the question, “Does this dress make me look fat?”
Those of you who are familiar with Hermione Granger may at this moment be wondering why she would ask this question. It is not in her nature at all. Hermione is not the type to stress over her appearance, although she does appreciate the occasional compliment.
But Hermione was not the one who had asked this question. That honor goes to Lavender Brown. And Ron’s response had been a very positive negative, that is, he’d said she looked, “Smoking hot, not at all fat!” While Lavender appreciated the answer, Hermione did not, as you can probably guess why. While Hermione stared at Ron with an intense heat in her gaze, it took him twenty seconds to realize the error of his ways, and an additional thirty seconds to mumble, “Of course, you look pretty darn hot too, Hermione.”
Had Ron said this of his own volition, and not due to his extreme fear of his girlfriend’s anger, Hermione might have let the slightly degrading use of the word “hot” slide, but in this instance she suddenly found her inner feminist and unleashed her.
And so Hermione became single.
The Headmistress's Office
Rating: mild T
Reason of Abandonment: Dunno. I guess I wasn't sure what should happen next. Or where I was headed with it. The first scene was written later, in an attempt to free Hermione up.
The Headmistress’ Office
By Marmalade Fever
Disclaimer: I do not own nor claim the Harry Potter series by J.K. Rowling. No profit is being made.
Hermione’s throat was constricting, making it difficult to ask him the question she’d wanted, needed to ask for so long. “Is it… is it over, then?”
Ron wasn’t looking directly at her, instead choosing to stare at a spot just over her shoulder. He nodded.
A single tear, long, glittering and salty as it caught at the corner of her mouth, was the only visible evidence of her heartbreak. “Okay,” she said. “Okay.”
…
“Mr. Malfoy, Miss Weasley, you just wait until your parents get here!” Headmistress Underwood said, scowling.
“My dear Eunice, please calm yourself.”
“Shush,” she said. She was shaking. She hated being headmistress. Correction, she hated teenagers. They were so… so… aggravating.
“Eunice…” Dumbledore tried again.
“I said, shush!”
“Professor Underwood,” Rosie Weasley began. “I’m very sorry if we broke any rules; however…”
“Please be quiet!” she stressed. She had conjured a cup of tea, but even that didn’t seem to be helping matters.
“For pity’s sake…”
“Shut it, Severus!” she yelped. The portrait of Snape merely rolled its eyes.
“Professor, my father…”
“Your father will be most disappointed in you, Mr. Malfoy!”
“…Has been donating funds to the school…”
“I’m warning you, Mr. Malfoy!”
“And so has my Grandfather, Lucius Malfoy.”
“Who is rotting in Azkaban!” she huffed. There was a knock at the door, and she shakily stood to allow her guests to enter.
“Mr. Malfoy, Mrs. Weasley,” she said, nodding to each of them.
Hermione flinched ever-so-slightly. “Professor Underwood,” she replied, extending her hand to shake. The Headmistress fumbled to return the gesture. “May I inquire what it is the children have done?” She sent a quick glance to her daughter, who blushed and looked down to her shoelaces.
“Your children…”
“Yes?” Draco Malfoy prompted. He stood behind his son, one hand on his shoulder.
“Your children have been caught… kissing in the corridor!” Underwood fumed.
Rosie’s blush traveled all the way into her ears. Scorpius frowned slightly but showed no signs of remorse. Hermione bent her head to the side, a little surprised. And Draco, after a short pause, laughed. “What?” he asked. “You called us here because of that?” Behind Underwood, the portraits of Dumbledore and Snape looked amused.
“Why, yes…” Underwood stumbled.
“But that’s hardly reason to involve us?” Hermione asked, looking a little amused herself.
“According to Chapter 2, Article 3 of the School’s charter…”
“Was it a repeat offense?” Draco asked.
“No, that’s what I’ve been trying to tell her!” Rosie cried out, her blush receding slightly.
“The way… the way you two were… ‘going at it,’ it could hardly have been your first kiss!” the enraged Professor gargled.
Draco snorted, his attempt at looking stoic quickly failing.
“I do not see what is so amusing!” Underwood intoned.
“Well that’s frightfully clear,” Scorpius muttered under his breath.
“Mr. Malfoy, you are very close to earning your seventh detention in these two weeks!”
“Seventh?” Draco repeated, only serving to look even more highly amused.
“Honestly, I was a better headmaster than this woman,” Snape mumbled.
“Severus!” Underwood shouted.
“Oh, Mum,” Rosie said, looking to her mother. “I really feel horrid about all this…” Hermione nodded and patted her hand.
“Listen,” Draco said, “this just seems like one big misunderstanding. I’m sure the children know not to repeat their… offense.” He was still having difficulty keeping a straight face, and for a moment it looked as if Underwood would shout something at him as well, but instead she took a deep, trembling breath and released it shakily.
“I trust, Mr. Malfoy, that you will see to it that there will not be a repeat of your son’s behavior,” she replied snippily. “Mrs. Weasley, I trust you will do the same?”
Hermione winced but nodded. “Of course.”
“Very well,” Underwood announced, turning to Scorpius and Rosie. “You will each be serving a detention with Professor Wingbat.”
And I think that's all I've got as far as discontinued fics go. I do have a couple other things started, but I haven't made a decision about them yet.
Spiked Eggnog
Rating: I barely wrote anything, so K+
Reason of Abandonment: Never wrote more. Good reason.
Note: This was going to be for the Christmas Challenge at Granger Enchanted. It was going to be quite strange, too. Everyone was going to sing to their secret admirers due to, er, spiked eggnog. I wish I had gotten around to Ron's song. He was going to sing "Lavender Blue" to Lavender Brown, and she was going to sing all of the girl parts while on her tiptoes, being extremely dramatic and operatic. lol
Spiked Eggnog
On the night of December 23rd, it was snowing. Actually, there was a blizzard. But no one seemed to notice the least bit because who cares about a blizzard when you have magic to protect you?
Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley sidled out of the fireplace, arm-in-arm, feeling pretty good about the fact that they both had dates to the party, that is, they were with one another. Harry was with Ginny, earning several second glances because, well, Harry was Harry.
“Friends and countrymen, lend me your ears,” George Weasley said in a big, booming voice, earning a groan here and a nervous laugh there. “Oh, come on! You can’t tell me the ear humor is getting old already, can you?” He sighed. “Anyway, I’ve invited you all here for a night of fun and merriment ‘cause let’s face it, it’s about time! Now, for your listening pleasure, whether you have one ear or two, I present…” He mumbled something unintelligible between a cough and a laugh.
“What did he say?” Ginny asked, her arm linked with Harry’s.
“I have no idea…”
“Please, help yourselves to some refreshment while we wait for the entertainment to begin,” George added, the faintest glimmer of mischief on his features.
“Well, if that doesn’t scare you, I don’t know what will,” Ron stated, staring at his brother with skepticism etched thoroughly across his brow.
“Oh, I know what will,” Hermione said in an undertone.
“What?” In reply, she merely pointed in the direction of the fireplace. Draco Malfoy stood looking ill-at-ease, hand being tugged at by Pansy Parkinson, who was wearing pepto bismal pink robes. “What the bloody-” Ron began before Hermione stomped on his foot.
“Language, Ron. Honestly,” she said, shaking her curly head in disdain.
“Bandage,” Ron finished lamely, “is he doing here?”
“Or her, for that matter,” Hermione said, leveling an evil gaze at the squashed-faced girl.
The Day Pigs Fly
Rating: K+
Reason of Abandonment: I originally just had the first two lines stuck in my head for... three years or something, and decided I might as well type it out. Then I didn't really know what else to write.
The Day Pigs Fly
By Marmalade Fever
A.N.: This is post DH, but does not go along with the events of the epilogue.
Disclaimer: I do not own nor claim Harry Potter and any/all related insignia, the property of J.K. Rowling. No profit is being made.
The day Draco Malfoy proposed to Hermione Granger was the same day Bud McMurphy’s prize-winning sow, Chopsy, spontaneously sprouted a pair of wings after eating a mysterious piece of candy in a Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes wrapper. And, although no one had actually said that he would propose “the day pigs fly,” it certainly turned out to be true.
It started like this:
Hermione Granger had been feeling extremely depressed ever since her relationship with Ron Weasley came to a crashing halt after they had been going out for one year, five months, three days, nine hours and twenty-two minutes. It was Ron’s fault entirely. He’d been doing an excellent job playing the caring boyfriend, but, as is the problem with Ron, he ended up pulling a Ron. Pulling a Ron here means that he did something quite idiotic, much like his wonderful idea to go out with Lavender rather than with Hermione in the first place.
Ron had actually responded to the question, “Does this dress make me look fat?”
Those of you who are familiar with Hermione Granger may at this moment be wondering why she would ask this question. It is not in her nature at all. Hermione is not the type to stress over her appearance, although she does appreciate the occasional compliment.
But Hermione was not the one who had asked this question. That honor goes to Lavender Brown. And Ron’s response had been a very positive negative, that is, he’d said she looked, “Smoking hot, not at all fat!” While Lavender appreciated the answer, Hermione did not, as you can probably guess why. While Hermione stared at Ron with an intense heat in her gaze, it took him twenty seconds to realize the error of his ways, and an additional thirty seconds to mumble, “Of course, you look pretty darn hot too, Hermione.”
Had Ron said this of his own volition, and not due to his extreme fear of his girlfriend’s anger, Hermione might have let the slightly degrading use of the word “hot” slide, but in this instance she suddenly found her inner feminist and unleashed her.
And so Hermione became single.
The Headmistress's Office
Rating: mild T
Reason of Abandonment: Dunno. I guess I wasn't sure what should happen next. Or where I was headed with it. The first scene was written later, in an attempt to free Hermione up.
The Headmistress’ Office
By Marmalade Fever
Disclaimer: I do not own nor claim the Harry Potter series by J.K. Rowling. No profit is being made.
Hermione’s throat was constricting, making it difficult to ask him the question she’d wanted, needed to ask for so long. “Is it… is it over, then?”
Ron wasn’t looking directly at her, instead choosing to stare at a spot just over her shoulder. He nodded.
A single tear, long, glittering and salty as it caught at the corner of her mouth, was the only visible evidence of her heartbreak. “Okay,” she said. “Okay.”
…
“Mr. Malfoy, Miss Weasley, you just wait until your parents get here!” Headmistress Underwood said, scowling.
“My dear Eunice, please calm yourself.”
“Shush,” she said. She was shaking. She hated being headmistress. Correction, she hated teenagers. They were so… so… aggravating.
“Eunice…” Dumbledore tried again.
“I said, shush!”
“Professor Underwood,” Rosie Weasley began. “I’m very sorry if we broke any rules; however…”
“Please be quiet!” she stressed. She had conjured a cup of tea, but even that didn’t seem to be helping matters.
“For pity’s sake…”
“Shut it, Severus!” she yelped. The portrait of Snape merely rolled its eyes.
“Professor, my father…”
“Your father will be most disappointed in you, Mr. Malfoy!”
“…Has been donating funds to the school…”
“I’m warning you, Mr. Malfoy!”
“And so has my Grandfather, Lucius Malfoy.”
“Who is rotting in Azkaban!” she huffed. There was a knock at the door, and she shakily stood to allow her guests to enter.
“Mr. Malfoy, Mrs. Weasley,” she said, nodding to each of them.
Hermione flinched ever-so-slightly. “Professor Underwood,” she replied, extending her hand to shake. The Headmistress fumbled to return the gesture. “May I inquire what it is the children have done?” She sent a quick glance to her daughter, who blushed and looked down to her shoelaces.
“Your children…”
“Yes?” Draco Malfoy prompted. He stood behind his son, one hand on his shoulder.
“Your children have been caught… kissing in the corridor!” Underwood fumed.
Rosie’s blush traveled all the way into her ears. Scorpius frowned slightly but showed no signs of remorse. Hermione bent her head to the side, a little surprised. And Draco, after a short pause, laughed. “What?” he asked. “You called us here because of that?” Behind Underwood, the portraits of Dumbledore and Snape looked amused.
“Why, yes…” Underwood stumbled.
“But that’s hardly reason to involve us?” Hermione asked, looking a little amused herself.
“According to Chapter 2, Article 3 of the School’s charter…”
“Was it a repeat offense?” Draco asked.
“No, that’s what I’ve been trying to tell her!” Rosie cried out, her blush receding slightly.
“The way… the way you two were… ‘going at it,’ it could hardly have been your first kiss!” the enraged Professor gargled.
Draco snorted, his attempt at looking stoic quickly failing.
“I do not see what is so amusing!” Underwood intoned.
“Well that’s frightfully clear,” Scorpius muttered under his breath.
“Mr. Malfoy, you are very close to earning your seventh detention in these two weeks!”
“Seventh?” Draco repeated, only serving to look even more highly amused.
“Honestly, I was a better headmaster than this woman,” Snape mumbled.
“Severus!” Underwood shouted.
“Oh, Mum,” Rosie said, looking to her mother. “I really feel horrid about all this…” Hermione nodded and patted her hand.
“Listen,” Draco said, “this just seems like one big misunderstanding. I’m sure the children know not to repeat their… offense.” He was still having difficulty keeping a straight face, and for a moment it looked as if Underwood would shout something at him as well, but instead she took a deep, trembling breath and released it shakily.
“I trust, Mr. Malfoy, that you will see to it that there will not be a repeat of your son’s behavior,” she replied snippily. “Mrs. Weasley, I trust you will do the same?”
Hermione winced but nodded. “Of course.”
“Very well,” Underwood announced, turning to Scorpius and Rosie. “You will each be serving a detention with Professor Wingbat.”
And I think that's all I've got as far as discontinued fics go. I do have a couple other things started, but I haven't made a decision about them yet.