drabbles, the first...
So, asking for ideas seems to have helped, at least a little. Still free to ask for as many (and as strange) drabbles as you like, but here's the first batch. (Looking at them, they're a very strange bunch... No wonder I'm having trouble writing these days. My style has actually changed kind of a lot, and I haven't been allowing for it or taking it into account. Hmmm.)
For the hell of it, a Seamus/Dean drabble: (183 words)
It really wasn’t at all surprising that Seamus could act, Dean decided. Really, it ought to be illegal how much stage presence the boy had. It was quite alarming, when he sat down to think about it.
Seamus could throw himself into any role, drawing you into the action and convincing you absolutely of its truth - when he told you to beware the coming storm you looked outside to see if the rain had started, when he choked up describing the death of his child you reached for your handkerchief, and when he professed his love for the blushing, young blonde acting opposite, Dean wanted to strangle the bint. That’s when Dean knew he had a problem.
“How do I know you’re not just acting when you tell me you love me?” he asked one day, leaning idly against the wall opposite the mirror where Seamus was getting ready to go on.
Raising an eyebrow at Dean’s reflection, Seamus didn’t even pause in applying the make-up charms. “There’s no script in real life, Dean,” he said, and Dean had to accept that.
For ladylisse, trio!drabble: (144 words)
It wasn’t that confusing when you got down to it, really. Hermione had said that ‘a three legged stool is the most stable and balance form known to man’, but Ron hadn’t understood what she meant, at least not at first. It was Harry who finally explained in a way that Ron could get.
“I need you, Ron. I need you, and I need Hermione. Not like I need air, and not like I need food. I need you like I need myself, because you’re a part of me.”
And, Ron realized, Hermione probably was right. Three must be stable, he thought, because he couldn’t imagine his life with out the two of them in it, balancing him out.
“You complete me,” he said one night, and Hermione had just laughed.
“Took you long enough to figure it out,” Harry said with a smile.
For firewillow, Pansy!drabble: (156 words)
Her hands moving smoothly down her sides, Pansy pressed the soft silk flat, letting it fall in clean lines to the floor. Sweeping her hair up off her shoulders, she twisted it around behind her and muttered a charm, fixing it in place. A small, silver charm was plucked off her dresser and set in place, crowning the perfectly set locks.
Eying her reflection in the mirror, she allowed herself a small smile. Perfection was set in the lines of her dress, tied up in the soft curls of hair, followed the soft curves of her cheeks down the length of her neck. Perfection and poise and elegance were gathered around her like trinkets.
From behind her, with barely a sound to announce his presence, Marcus moved to fasten a small diamond necklace on her, and as he moved she was caught by the sparkling fire in its facets.
“Perfect,” Marcus whispered, and Pansy simply smiled.
Also for FW, Alison!drabble - from X_project: (216 words)
There was nothing evil about the cookies, and that was probably the redeeming factor. All of the kids knew they’d have to face her and her cookies at some point - it was practically a right of passage these days - and it was just a question of what would bring it about. Have a fight in the corridor? Blow up at someone on the journal system? Fuck up with your powers, or bomb a particularly important test? Sooner or later (and always when you were least expecting it), you’ll stumble upon her - the Devil Woman.
Armed with a bright grin, an iron will, and an apparently inexhaustible supply of cookies (those with clever minds and a basic knowledge of the school’s socio-political situation realized that with Lorna for a roommate the cookie supply actually was inexhaustible,) the Devil Woman was a formidable foe. Ostensibly she’d laid down her mantle as school counselor, but the children knew better. She might hold no title, but the Devil Woman was one of the most feared and respected opponent in the battle against the adults, and none who knew what they were about would ever underestimate her.
But it is very hard to not trust that bright, winning smile and a plate of the best cookies this side of the Hudson.
For ely709, Robin Hood: (193 words)
He was infuriating in his smugness. ‘Savior of the Kingdom’, ‘Defender of the Crown’, ‘Friend of the King’, ‘Beloved of the Lady Marian’… Hah!
The problem, Marian reflected, was that Robin was just too good. And he knew it. Unbested at archery, a formidable foe with a sword, quick of wit and glib of tongue, none could match his woodsmanship, nor out hunt him with knife or even stone. The man could even mend his own clothing, although of course he no longer bothered once he’d been pardoned and had reclaimed his lands and title. Marian was seriously overmatched, and it just wasn’t fair.
Because, of course, she did love him, very much. She simply couldn’t stand him, not now that he’d regained his title and left the woods behind him.
“You were much more tolerable when you were still an outlaw,” she told him over breakfast one morning, and Robin simply smiled that smug smile of his.
“That,” he said, “is because you want me to have some flaw, and being hunted and hated seemed better than being insufferable.”
“You weren’t insufferable before.”
“You weren’t paying attention.”
And it was probably true.
For chapstickmess, Boromir slash drabble - because you didn't say _who_ had to hurt, or why: (244 words)
He was dying. This man he come to trust and respect, to rely on and even to love in his own way; this man was dying, and there was nothing he could do. There was nothing he could do to save Boromir, nothing to save Frodo and Sam. Sometimes Aragorn thought there was nothing he could do to save even himself.
“I tried to take the ring from Frodo,” Boromir said, every word obviously costing him greatly. “I am sorry. I have paid.”
Aragorn simply stared, not understanding as Boromir continued.
“... the Haflings: the Orcs have taken them.”
It was a shock. He’d thought he’d known Boromir, thought he’d understood. He’d seen that Boromir was tempted - he himself was tempted. They both fought against the temptation. But no, apparently Boromir had... had...
“... save my people! I have failed.”
Even as he denied it, Aragorn wondered in his heart if Boromir’s words might not be portentous. If this man, so strong and valiant a companion and fighter, had fallen what chance would any of them have.
“No!” said Aragorn, taking his hand and kissing his brow. “You have conquered...”
Aragorn could no save Boromir, could not save Frodo, might not be able to save Merry and Pippin. Aragorn could do nothing except soothe the worries of a dying man and plan to search out and seek his lost companions, lost because he had not been here. Never before had he felt so helpless.
For evil_erato, Snarry, (282 words)
The problem in Harry’s mind wasn’t that Severus was his teacher, it wasn’t that Severus was so much older than him, it wasn’t even that his father and Severus had hated each other with a burning passion.
The problem, as Harry saw it, was that Severus was a stubborn git.
“No, I will no put my shirt back on.”
“Mr Potter, this is highly improper.”
“Mmm, yes.”
“Get dressed.”
It was that commanding tone that really got to Harry. But then, maybe he just had a thing for being ordered around. Aloud, he idly wondered, “You like to tell me what to do, force me to behave. You know, it would be much easier if you just tied me up somewhere so I couldn’t get in your way.”
Oh yes, that had definitely gotten to him. The pause was short; the catch in his breath almost imperceptible, but it had been there, no question.
“Don’t be absurd Potter.”
“But just think, Severus...”
“Professor Snape,” Severus interrupted, but Harry ignored him.
“Just think, Severus, if you tied me up I’d be safe, so you wouldn’t have to wonder if I was getting myself killed or something, and I’d be very little trouble at all. I could even provide a valuable service.”
“And what would that be? Wall decoration, perhaps?”
“Well, I was thinking more along the lines of the occasional - or even really frequent - blow job.”
Severus just sighed, burying his head in his hands. “Harry,” he said at last, “are you trying to drive me insane?”
“Yep.”
“You little... for Merlin’s sake, why?”
Harry half shrugged. “Hadn’t anything better to do, really.”
“Your mother should have drowned you as a baby.”
And also for Erato, Lavender/Hermione: (195 words)
Everyone thought she was stupid, but Lavender Brown was far from stupid. On the contrary, she was clever enough to realize that people expected less from you if you were beautiful. They looked at her perfectly done hair, her neatly manicured nails, her well matched outfits, and simply wrote her off.
It was very elegantly done, Hermione thought, once she caught on to the girl’s plan. Hell, Hermione knew what sort of grades the girl got (consistently middle of the class), and she’d still thought her dorm mate was little more than an airhead.
When she was being honest, she admitted that it was the girl’s stunning looks that attracted her. It was not possible to see those cherry red lips and not want to kiss them, to admire the long blonde tresses and not want to run your hands through them. Certainly it wasn’t possible for Hermione.
When she’d realized that Lavender was more than simply stunning she’d been more than stunned. Lavender had laughed at her, running her hands up and down Hermione’s sides.
“Honestly, Hermione. For someone so very clever you can be very, very slow sometimes.”
And Hermione couldn’t really argue.
For ennia, Justin Finch-Fletchley at his finest: (227 words)
Everyone thought he was insufferable and full of himself, but that was Ernie. Or they thought he was angry, and always ready for a fight, but that was Zach. Some of them even thought he was quiet and soft spoken, and that was Susan. Aggravating didn’t even begin to describe it.
“Finch-Fletchley? Do I know a Finch... Oh right, you’re the gay Hufflepuff.”
“I’m not gay.”
“No? Are you sure?”
Surely he’d be the one to know, right?
“Finch-Fletchley? Oh, you’re in my Herbology class, right?”
“No, I’m in sixth year, you’re in fourth. I’m not in any of your classes.”
“Hmm... Well, I’d swear I’ve seen you in class.”
“Well, you’re wrong.”
The only person in the entire school who wasn’t a Hufflepuff and could reliably remember his name was Weasley.
“Finch-Fletchley, you know that Harry’s still not the Heir of Slytherin, right?”
If Weasley said it one more time, Justin would not be held responsible for his actions.
“Ernie,” he said one day, as they sat in their usual place in the library (he’d caught Weasley looking at him funny again, and just knew he was in for some more torment sooner or later.) “Will you support my bid for world domination?”
Ernie didn’t even bat an eyelash. “Of course.”
“Planning on being the next dark lord, Justin?” Hannah asked.
“Yes. Are you in?”
“Certainly.”
Want more? Just ask!