Huge Drabble Dump of Doom!
I wrote quite a few drabbles lately, posted them all over the place. Reposting them here so they are all in one place.
There are more to come as I am still in process of writing the drabble request I received from the flist and my fellow snakes in the Dungeons. So be warned: there will be more.
Title: I know ...
Rating/Warnings: PG-13, mentions of drug abuse
Characters/Pairing: Draco Malfoy, Ron Weasley
Summary: When we least expect it, we find a person - the unlikeliest one of all - who knows what it's like.
Word Count: 806
Author's Notes: Written for hh_writersblock, challenge: Addiction.
There was no way out; he had tried every possible escape route, exerting himself until he had slumped down against the door, panting heavily - only to be shoved out of the way by one of the stupid Mediwitches who were checking up on him every five minutes. Gloating at him and enjoying every minute of it, no doubt! Draco had crawled over to the mattress on the floor in as dignified a manner as his aching and uncooperative body allowed, where he now lay shivering and feeling more miserable than he ever had in his whole cursed life.
He had tried to to talk to the Mediwitch ... Mediwitches? He really wasn't sure how many of them there were. They came in, they left, ignoring him for the most part when they'd made sure he was still alive. One looked like the next, and they all looked different.
Rational at first. There is no reason for you to keep me here, I'm just a bit out of sorts, nothing a couple of days of rest won't cure. I'll be better so much sooner if you just let me go home. Familiar surroundings and all that. All he received in answer was silence and a hint of pity in her eyes as the Mediwitch felt his forehead to see if he was running a fever.
Demanding next. Do you know who I am? No one keeps Draco Malfoy locked up in a room against his will. This will have repercussions! I know people at the Ministry, important people! More silence and a cold glare.
Merlin knew he wouldn't normally do this, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Draco Malfoy begged. Please let me go, please. I promise I'll be back, I just need to take care of a couple of things. I'll be back and you can do whatever it is you need to do. Or if you'd just give me just one sip, just a few drops. I can't even think straight. Just a few drops, please. Please! He was sobbing now, blinking unseeingly through the tears. The blur that was the Mediwitch left. The click of the lock was too loud and almost hurt physically.
He must have dozed off because the next thing he knew, or rather felt, was a warm weight on his shoulders. Someone was draping a blanket around him, carefully tucking it around Draco's thin body. With great effort, Draco opened his eyes and found himself staring at Ron Weasley.
This is no longer funny, he thought desperately. He was clearly starting to hallucinate. Draco groaned, prompting the hallucination to bring up a cup of water to his lips. A very real cup of water. Draco drank greedily until Ron pulled the cup away.
"Don't, you'll make yourself sick." And true enough, as soon as Ron'd said it, Draco felt his stomach protest. He double over, breathing shallowly to will the nausea away.
"Just try to breathe normally. It'll go away in a bit."
Not only did he have to hallucinate about Ron Weasley of all people, no, it had to be a Weasley who was telling him what to do. "You're not real," Draco gasped as he remained curl up in as tiny a ball as possible.
"Oh, I'm real, make no mistake there. Thought I'd bring you a blanket. I remember I was freezing the whole time I was here."
"Huh?" This didn't make any sense.
I know what you're going through, Malfoy."
What? "You know nothing about me. You've seen what you wanted to see. You can now go and tell your friends all about Draco Malfoy's downfall, but stop taking the piss, okay?"
"I'm not going anywhere, Malfoy, and I'm not taking the piss. I work here, and I wasn't lying: I know exactly what you're going through, every single miserable second of it.
Draco stared at him, unsure of where this strange conversation was leading. He still wasn't sure the Weasel was really there. He closed his eyes, opened them again, but no, the freckled face did not disappear out of his field of vision.
"I know how you feel right now. Confused. And you're hurting all over. You think it's too much, that it's not going to work anyway. But above all, you're thinking about the potion. Constantly."
Draco heard Ron's voice, it was too bright to keep his eyes open, felt it echoing through his mind long after the other man had left the room. He still wasn't sure whether this hadn't just been some fucked-up joke his mind was playing on him.
"I can't tell you that you're going to be okay. I don't know if you will be, but what I do know is that this is a chance, and you better use it, Malfoy, 'cause you mightn't get another."
Title: Empty
Rating/Warnings: PG
Characters/Pairing: Remus Lupin/Ronald Weasley
Summary: The wolf left a hole in his soul, desperately wanting to be filled, but there was nothing.
Word Count: 494
Author's Notes: This drabble was inspired my birthday present from kath_ballantyne, which can be found here.
Written for hh_writersblock, challenge: hurt/comfort
The last couple of minutes were a fierce battle. The wolf didn't want to leave, but couldn't do anything against the ever increasing humanity that was pushing it back, further back, until it was nothing but a painful memory - until the next full moon. The wolf never left without a fight. The physical pain of a body changing, shifting, rearranging itself was nothing compared to the mental pain of trying to desperately cling to his humanity at the beginning of the night. And both these pains were nothing compared to the violence with which the wolf fought at the end of the night. The worst injuries weren't due to the wolf being locked up and without prey; they were always caused by its desperate fight to stay in control.
Remus slowly and reluctantly woke up. He was cold, as he lay naked on the threadbare carpet in the old shed. For a few moments, he just lay still, listening for the wolf, always scared that it might return, that this time it had succeeded in its attempts to stay. But no, it was gone, for another month he was Remus again, just Remus. Remus carefully assessed his body, just feeling for pains and discomfort, not yet moving. His head felt heavy and his right leg was on fire, but apart from that, he seemed okay.
Remus carefully sat up, his bones stiff and aching. He winced as he drew his injured leg up to his chest. It was this precise moment every month, when he started to move again in his human body, that Remus searched for his will to carry on, for his will to fight. The wolf left a hole in his soul, desperately wanting to be filled, but there was nothing. Alone and empty, Remus wanted to just let go. Ever since he'd been bitten, since he was a child, he had found himself wishing he wouldn't wake up again after the moon. A single tear slowly slid down Remus's cheek, making him gasp as it trailed along the cut in his cheek.
Remus knew that the shed was empty, that there was no point in looking for a knife, a rope, anything that would help him end this. He looked around nevertheless, hoping against hope that someone, he himself, had forgotten to remove everything that was potentially dangerous. Something orange caught his eyes. He frowned and crawled toward it.
A blanket. Ron had left a blanket for him, knowing that he'd be cold when he woke up in the morning. Remus wrapped himself in it, warmth flooding his body and soul.
As he sat there, huddled in his blanket and getting used to being human again, he felt another warmth behind him. Ron didn't say anything. He crouched down next to Remus, an arm around Remus's shoulder. As Remus felt his exhaustion taking over, he knew that when he woke up next he would be glad to be back.
Title: Azkaban
Rating/Warnings: PG, maybe PG-13 because it hints at Bellatrix' preferences
Characters/Pairing: Bellatrix Lestrange/Augustus Rookwood
Summary: "They don't need walls and water to keep the prisoners in, not when they're trapped inside their own heads, incapable of a single cheerful thought. Most go mad within weeks."
Most do,yes. Some however find themselves in paradise.
Word Count: 336
Author's Notes: Written for silveredaccents who requested Bellatrix/Augustus. I hope you like my first attempt at writing both characters. Also written in response to hh_writersblock's challenge "What's that sound?".
Bellatrix delighted in the moans and cries of despair all around her. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back a bit. The anguish around her was music in her ears, and she started to giggle in sheer ecstasy at finding herself in this place that couldn't be more perfect if she tried.
She could feel the Dementors being momentarily interested in her, until they realised that she wasn't experiencing happiness so much as obsession, an obsession stemming from her deepest, darkest core. Bellatrix had discovered long ago that the Dementors didn't appreciate dark obsession as much as pure, naïve happiness. They left her alone.
Bellatrix particularly liked hearing the sobs when her follow prisoners realised that they'd been unsuccessful in clinging to their last happy memory. She smirked as she sat on the cold stone floor, listening to the sounds around her.
A deep, booming laugh disturbed Bellatrix' musings. Who dared disturb her? More importantly, who dared laugh, no one laughed in Azkaban! Bellatrix looked around until her eyes found the offender. Augustus! Of course.
The Dementors seemed to be equally uninterested in Augustus's laugh as they were in her giggles. That fact alone was enough to send a thrill of excitement through Bellatrix. But it was nothing compared to what she felt when Augustus caught her eye and they simply looked at each other.
Bellatrix had always been the odd one out, not that she had minded much. It made pursuing her perverse pleasures so much easier. Even with like-minded people she had never encountered anyone who understood her fully, who appreciated her obsession for what it was. Oh, her husband enjoyed pain, especially the kind that his wife inflicted on him, but he didn't understand.
Now, she felt as if she was looking in a mirror, everything she was was there as well. He understood. For the first time in her life, Bellatrix felt true happiness, happiness that lasted but a second as the Dementors glided over and took it from her.
Title: Keeping up appearances
Rating/Warnings: PG/none
Characters/Pairing: Lucius/Narcissa, baby Draco
Summary: The love she felt for her son diminished the hate she had for her husband.
Word Count: 350
Author's Notes: Written for valkyrie_lisa who requested Lucius/Narcissa. I am not sure this is what you had in mind, dear, but it is what came to my mind. Also written in response to hh_writersblock's challenge "Oh, how I loathe thee, most of the time".
Keeping up appearances
"When a wizard goes over ter the Dark Side, there's nothin' and no one that matters to 'em anymore..."
-- Rubeus Hagrid
"Lucius," Narcissa pleaded. Draco was resting in her arms, having cried himself to sleep. "Please don't leave, not tonight. Please!"
"Don't be stupid, Narcissa, you know I can't miss the meeting. What would people think if the Malfoy family wasn't present at such an important gathering."
"But what about your son, what about us?"
"Oh, Narcissa darling, this is about us, about our son! Don't you want him to succeed in life? Don't you want to try everything you can so that he will one day be respected and powerful? He's a Malfoy, for goodness' sake!"
Narcissa looked at her husband, tears shining in her eyes. "I want him to be happy, I want him to be loved …" she murmured.
"Ah, nonsense. I knew it was a bad idea to let you nurse the child. It is messing with your head, Narcissa."
Narcissa glared at her husband's retreating back. Hatred was coursing through her, white-hot and dangerous. How could he be so cold, so heartless toward his son? She looked down at Draco, who was still asleep, Malfoy arguments never being loud, but rather delivered in vicious whispers. Narcissa gently stroke the light-blond hair on Draco's head.
The love she felt for her son diminished the hate she had for her husband. If it wasn't for Draco, she didn't think she'd still be here. It was true that she should be grateful that Lucius Malfoy had agreed to marry her; having a bloodtraitor as a sister seriously hindered pureblood matchmaking. She had been thrilled when Lucius had first courted her, showering her with attention and gifts. It was only after she was pregnant with Draco, that she noticed his increasing distance and coldness toward her. She had done her job, she had given him an heir.
Narcissa knew that Lucius wouldn't care if she left. She could never leave without her son though, and Lucius would never allow his heir to taken out of his sphere of influence.
Narcissa sighed and began to sing a lullaby, quiet and haltingly, singing through the tears that were now freely flowing.
Title: You Raise Me Up
Rating/Warnings: PG/post-war, mention of war injuries (nothing graphic though).
Characters/Pairing: Harry/Luna
Words: 209
Author's Notes: Written for sortinghatdrabs
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I stare across the lake. Nothing to see, but everything is better than what lies behind me: a castle in ruins, death, silence. Hogwarts has been many things, but never silent. I sigh, trying to keep my hands still. They haven't stopped shaking since the Battle.
Out-of-tune singing shakes me out of my thoughts. I catch a glimpse of blonde hair. Luna. Luna can almost make you believe that none of the war ever happened, if it wasn't for her frank comments that make people cringe and feel awkward, while she smiles dreamily, seemingly unaffected.
Luna reaches me, and she smiles radiantly. "I brought you something. Billywig wings." She looks at me expectantly.
"Billywig?"
"They're not going to help with your tremors," she continues matter-of-factly. I hide my hands in my robe pockets; no one ever mentions my hands! "But look!" She holds one of the wings up against the sky where the meagre light catches and reflects in a million rainbow colours. "Pretty, isn't it?"
"Yes," I say, and I smile, feeling happier than I have in a long time.
"Daddy says too few people care about Billywig wings; they're usually interested in their stingers. They make you feel lighter, the wings."
"They do." And you do, Luna.
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Title: To Be Seen
Rating/Warnings: G/none
Characters/Pairings: Pansy/Ginny, Draco
Words: 199
Author's Notes: Written for sortinghatdrabs
Pansy checked herself in the mirror one last time. Perfect! She and Draco would be a stunning couple.
After all, that was what the whole evening was about: to be seen in the right clothes with the right people. Pansy smiled with satisfaction; she felt as if she'd reached the evening's goal before even leaving her dormitory.
**+*+*+**
They were slowly waltzing round the dance floor, Pansy making sure that Draco was at the right spot at the right time. Draco lowered his head and whispered into her ear, "Look at the oaf Longbottom. He keeps stepping on the Weasel girl's toes. Serves her right!" he sneered.
Pansy schooled her face into an expression neutral enough to not openly offend, mean enough to hurt those it was aimed at. Longbottom and Weasley, what a perfectly disastrous match, she thought.
Ready to shoot her patented glare at the couple, she looked up - and found that she was looking into brilliant brown eyes - piercing, intense, beautiful eyes looking directly at her.
Pansy tore her gaze away from Ginny's face and looked down, blushing. Maybe the evening wasn't about being seen after all; maybe it was about seeing the right person.
Title: Bugger!
Rating/Warnings: PG/None really, Ron swears a bit.
Characters/Pairings: Ron/Pansy
Words: 384
Author's Notes: Written for sortinghatdrabs
She's annoying. No, strike that, she's a complete bitch! I glare at the back of Pansy Parkinson's head. She's sitting next to Malfoy and fawning over him, it's sickening!
I feel Hermione elbow me and hear her urgent "Snape!" but can't tear my eyes away from Ferret and Pug-face.
"Mr Weasley, while I am sure that a young lady like Miss Parkinson is fascinating to you, I would appreciate if you could concentrate on my class. Judging by your performance, this is not only advisable but strictly necessary. Detention, Mr Weasley, tomorrow night at seven, here."
I can't stiffle a groan. Shit! I look past Snape to glare at Parkinson and Malfoy, who predictably sneers, highly amused. Pug-face surprises me by winking. Winking! I gape at her.
;-;-;-;
I enter the dungeon classroom. Pansy is already there, scrubbing furiously at a dirty cauldron. No magic. 'Bugger,' I think, remembering the bedpans that Snape had made me clean. I shudder.
Pansy turns around and smiles at me. Pleasantly. Which makes her look almost pretty.
"Hello Ron."
"Um, hello, pu- Parkinson," I reply. Almost called her pug-face, and why's she calling me Ron? I frown.
"I didn't know you had a stutter, Ron. Is that why you're always so quiet?" She sounds sincere, but I am sure she's just taking the mickey.
"I don't stutter!"
"Oh, all the better." She smiles again; she really does look pretty when she does that.
I return her smile, still wary of her sudden friendliness, but deciding that I might as well play along. I pick up a cloth and start helping Parkinson with her cauldron.
We look at each other. She has really pretty eyes, too. I move towards her, towards her lips. My eyes flutter close.
I receive a nasty blow in the ribs. Should have known! Incredulous, I am about to yell at her, but my "Pansy!" dies on my lips when I look into Hermione's eyes. I blink at her.
"You were asleep and moaning," she reprimands me, "even Professor Binns noticed." She shakes her head in disgust.
'Bugger,' I think, Pansy's face imprinted in front of my inner eye. Bugger!
Title: Dangerous Minds
Rating/Warnings: PG/none
Characters/Pairings: Tom Riddle/Moaning Myrtle
Words: 517
Author's Notes: Written for sortinghatdrabs.
Tom Riddle walked into the library and purposefully strode over to the librarian's desk. Madam Pince looked up. Her stern look softened considerably when she realised the person who dared disturb her was Tom, and she gave him a small nod. Tom inclined his head to thank her and made his way over to the Restricted Section.
They had had this arrangement since Tom's first year at Hogwarts: Tom was allowed to view and take out books from the Restricted Section. In return, he was nice to Madam Pince, smiled at her, sometimes paid her a compliment.
Tom sneered; she was so easy to manipulate. Most people were.
He was about to push open the small door that partitioned off the more dangerous books when he realised someone was looking at him. That Ravenclaw girl again! Her eyes were unnaturally large behind her glasses as she stared at him intently.
There was something in her gaze that made him stop. He walked over to the table she occupied, hidden behind enormous piles of books.
He knew she wasn't a very popular girl. She would stutter and blush when the great Tom Riddle started talking to her. "Hello," he greeted.
"Why do you keep sneaking into the Restricted Section?" No stutter, no blush. Instead, she held his gaze firmly. Intriguing!
"I'm not sneaking. I research. Why are you spying on me?"
"I'm not. I notice things. And I think you're up to something. I should report you!" She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him.
"I told you: I use the Restricted Section for my research. I have permission to enter." Why was he even talking to the insolent girl?
"It is easy to manipulate Madam Pince." She said it casually, in her know-it-all Ravenclaw manner, but to Tom the utterance held a threat. No one dared challenge him! And no one would endanger his plans; he'd see to that. Who would have thought that a spotty, bespectacled loser could possibly become a threat to him?
"I don't know what you mean," Tom answered innocently.
He gave her a piercing look, her eyes practically inviting him into her mind. Tom expected something neat and well-ordered; instead he found chaos: thoughts, emotions, snippets of information were flying past him in a whirlwind, too fast, too random, too much.
... crying - hiding in a bathroom - bored - reading a book - watching Tom - arguing with a fellow Ravenclaw - standing in front of the Restricted Section - playing with her food in the Great Hall - lonely - holding back the tears as some girls teased her - excited - misunderstood - biting her lips - running her fingers along an Ancient Runes text - following Tom out of the Great Hall - looking at herself in a mirror ...
Tom pulled back out of her mind, staggering slightly. Well hidden in the jumble of her thoughts was a clear message: She was dangerous. He had to get rid of her.
Title: Ghosts ... Dreams
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: implied character death, (a bit more than) implied Ron/unspecified character.
Characters/Parings: (past) Harry/Ron, Ron/unspecified character
Word count: 357
Author's Notes: Inspired by Alfred Douglas's poem "Wine in Summer". Written for the harry_and_ron drabble challenge.
Ron closed his eyes, breathing in the heady midsummer air. Around him, the forest was alive. Insects were buzzing, birds singing a lazy song. The heat was enveloping him in a cocoon of sleepiness and memories.
They aren't speaking to each other.
In fact, they avoid even the slightest eye contact.
Ron's arms are crossed over his chest and he pouts.
He feels a hand on his shoulder, which he shrugs off angrily.
He is turned around harshly and finds himself looking into brilliantly green eyes.
"Stop ignoring me, you git!" Harry yells,
then presses his lips to Ron's in a bruising kiss.
Harry's hand cups Ron's cheek. They hug each other,
Ron bending down slightly, Harry standing on his toes.
Harry sighs. "I missed you!"
Ron kisses Harry's scar ever so lightly. Harry said it tickles, but still sighs in contentment every time Ron's lips touch his forehead.
Ron gets back late from work; summers are always busy,
especially shortly before the new school year.
Harry is already asleep. Ron quietly climbs into bed.
He moves closer and spoons around Harry's back. It never fails to amaze him
how very perfectly they fit together.
Ron felt the sun set, heard the increasing silence. He also felt the familiar weight settle on his soul. After all those years, it still hurt. The emptiness Harry left behind was always more pronounced when Ron returned back to reality. Gods, how he missed him!
Ron concentrated on the soothing tranquility of the forest. He heard the rustle of leaves, very quiet. The person who was approaching was clearly familiar with the hidden path, but still disturbed the neutral peace into which the forest had settled.
All too sudden, the last of the sun rays were blocked out by a silhouette.
"Come back home, Ron. It's getting cold." The quiet, friendly tones masked the hurt Ron caused by withdrawing time and again.
"Was about ready to come back anyway," Ron mumbled.
He grabbed the extended hand and held it firmly as they made their way back to Hogsmeade.
The ghosts and dreams stayed behind. They would be waiting for him.
Title: In the Autumn of his Years
Rating/Warnings: PG, AU
Characters/Pairing: Remus Lupin
Summary: It's time to let go ...
Word Count: 117 (not counting Shakespeare quote)
Author's Notes: Written for hh_writersblock, challenge: seasons.
That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
Remus was content. Sirius had left him Grimmauld Place. Even if he felt lonely sometimes, he could have done a lot worse. He was alive, he was relatively healthy, but what he appreciated most of all was the stability that, for once, was present in his life. There was no fear of eviction, a steady supply of Wolfsbane Potion thanks to Severus and an abundance of food thanks to Molly's kindness.
He felt calmer than he had in years. Almost happy. Sometimes Remus wondered whether he had just stopped asking for more, whether he had started to be satisfied with what he had. Which wasn't much, but enough for one man to live ... and die ... in comfort.
Title: Relived Reality
Rating/Warnings: PG/character death
Characters/Pairing: Harry, implied Harry/Cedric
Words: 250
Author's Notes: Written for sortinghatdrabs
Harry knew he was reaching his breaking point. He tried to stay awake, afraid of the nightmares, but he didn't know how much longer he'd be able to continue like that. Things had been okay while he was still at Hogwarts, with Ron and Hermione around. They'd been able to take his mind off the things that were best not dwelt upon. Now, though, they weren't there distract him. Harry'd never felt more alone than he did now. Ron and Hermione wrote letters, yes, but their cryptic messages only made him feel more isolated.
Happy birthday! Well, screw that! As if a bit of chocolate was going to do any good. Frustrated and angry, Harry threw away the Honeydukes chocolates Ron and Hermione had sent him.
Harry just wanted to forget, just for a while. He wanted to be able to close his eyes and not look into blank grey ones. He wanted to sleep and not find himself in a graveyard. The nightmares were worse than any he'd had before; they were relived reality. And they were worse when they were preceded by another reality. When Cedric laughed with him instead of lying spread-eagled on the ground. When grey eyes looked at him with trust and love before losing their expression entirely. When he kissed lips that were warm and alive, only to feel them turn cold and unresponsive, knowing that, in his dream, he would open his eyes and look into a dead boy's face. Cedric's face.
There are more to come as I am still in process of writing the drabble request I received from the flist and my fellow snakes in the Dungeons. So be warned: there will be more.
Title: I know ...
Rating/Warnings: PG-13, mentions of drug abuse
Characters/Pairing: Draco Malfoy, Ron Weasley
Summary: When we least expect it, we find a person - the unlikeliest one of all - who knows what it's like.
Word Count: 806
Author's Notes: Written for hh_writersblock, challenge: Addiction.
There was no way out; he had tried every possible escape route, exerting himself until he had slumped down against the door, panting heavily - only to be shoved out of the way by one of the stupid Mediwitches who were checking up on him every five minutes. Gloating at him and enjoying every minute of it, no doubt! Draco had crawled over to the mattress on the floor in as dignified a manner as his aching and uncooperative body allowed, where he now lay shivering and feeling more miserable than he ever had in his whole cursed life.
He had tried to to talk to the Mediwitch ... Mediwitches? He really wasn't sure how many of them there were. They came in, they left, ignoring him for the most part when they'd made sure he was still alive. One looked like the next, and they all looked different.
Rational at first. There is no reason for you to keep me here, I'm just a bit out of sorts, nothing a couple of days of rest won't cure. I'll be better so much sooner if you just let me go home. Familiar surroundings and all that. All he received in answer was silence and a hint of pity in her eyes as the Mediwitch felt his forehead to see if he was running a fever.
Demanding next. Do you know who I am? No one keeps Draco Malfoy locked up in a room against his will. This will have repercussions! I know people at the Ministry, important people! More silence and a cold glare.
Merlin knew he wouldn't normally do this, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Draco Malfoy begged. Please let me go, please. I promise I'll be back, I just need to take care of a couple of things. I'll be back and you can do whatever it is you need to do. Or if you'd just give me just one sip, just a few drops. I can't even think straight. Just a few drops, please. Please! He was sobbing now, blinking unseeingly through the tears. The blur that was the Mediwitch left. The click of the lock was too loud and almost hurt physically.
He must have dozed off because the next thing he knew, or rather felt, was a warm weight on his shoulders. Someone was draping a blanket around him, carefully tucking it around Draco's thin body. With great effort, Draco opened his eyes and found himself staring at Ron Weasley.
This is no longer funny, he thought desperately. He was clearly starting to hallucinate. Draco groaned, prompting the hallucination to bring up a cup of water to his lips. A very real cup of water. Draco drank greedily until Ron pulled the cup away.
"Don't, you'll make yourself sick." And true enough, as soon as Ron'd said it, Draco felt his stomach protest. He double over, breathing shallowly to will the nausea away.
"Just try to breathe normally. It'll go away in a bit."
Not only did he have to hallucinate about Ron Weasley of all people, no, it had to be a Weasley who was telling him what to do. "You're not real," Draco gasped as he remained curl up in as tiny a ball as possible.
"Oh, I'm real, make no mistake there. Thought I'd bring you a blanket. I remember I was freezing the whole time I was here."
"Huh?" This didn't make any sense.
I know what you're going through, Malfoy."
What? "You know nothing about me. You've seen what you wanted to see. You can now go and tell your friends all about Draco Malfoy's downfall, but stop taking the piss, okay?"
"I'm not going anywhere, Malfoy, and I'm not taking the piss. I work here, and I wasn't lying: I know exactly what you're going through, every single miserable second of it.
Draco stared at him, unsure of where this strange conversation was leading. He still wasn't sure the Weasel was really there. He closed his eyes, opened them again, but no, the freckled face did not disappear out of his field of vision.
"I know how you feel right now. Confused. And you're hurting all over. You think it's too much, that it's not going to work anyway. But above all, you're thinking about the potion. Constantly."
Draco heard Ron's voice, it was too bright to keep his eyes open, felt it echoing through his mind long after the other man had left the room. He still wasn't sure whether this hadn't just been some fucked-up joke his mind was playing on him.
"I can't tell you that you're going to be okay. I don't know if you will be, but what I do know is that this is a chance, and you better use it, Malfoy, 'cause you mightn't get another."
Title: Empty
Rating/Warnings: PG
Characters/Pairing: Remus Lupin/Ronald Weasley
Summary: The wolf left a hole in his soul, desperately wanting to be filled, but there was nothing.
Word Count: 494
Author's Notes: This drabble was inspired my birthday present from kath_ballantyne, which can be found here.
Written for hh_writersblock, challenge: hurt/comfort
The last couple of minutes were a fierce battle. The wolf didn't want to leave, but couldn't do anything against the ever increasing humanity that was pushing it back, further back, until it was nothing but a painful memory - until the next full moon. The wolf never left without a fight. The physical pain of a body changing, shifting, rearranging itself was nothing compared to the mental pain of trying to desperately cling to his humanity at the beginning of the night. And both these pains were nothing compared to the violence with which the wolf fought at the end of the night. The worst injuries weren't due to the wolf being locked up and without prey; they were always caused by its desperate fight to stay in control.
Remus slowly and reluctantly woke up. He was cold, as he lay naked on the threadbare carpet in the old shed. For a few moments, he just lay still, listening for the wolf, always scared that it might return, that this time it had succeeded in its attempts to stay. But no, it was gone, for another month he was Remus again, just Remus. Remus carefully assessed his body, just feeling for pains and discomfort, not yet moving. His head felt heavy and his right leg was on fire, but apart from that, he seemed okay.
Remus carefully sat up, his bones stiff and aching. He winced as he drew his injured leg up to his chest. It was this precise moment every month, when he started to move again in his human body, that Remus searched for his will to carry on, for his will to fight. The wolf left a hole in his soul, desperately wanting to be filled, but there was nothing. Alone and empty, Remus wanted to just let go. Ever since he'd been bitten, since he was a child, he had found himself wishing he wouldn't wake up again after the moon. A single tear slowly slid down Remus's cheek, making him gasp as it trailed along the cut in his cheek.
Remus knew that the shed was empty, that there was no point in looking for a knife, a rope, anything that would help him end this. He looked around nevertheless, hoping against hope that someone, he himself, had forgotten to remove everything that was potentially dangerous. Something orange caught his eyes. He frowned and crawled toward it.
A blanket. Ron had left a blanket for him, knowing that he'd be cold when he woke up in the morning. Remus wrapped himself in it, warmth flooding his body and soul.
As he sat there, huddled in his blanket and getting used to being human again, he felt another warmth behind him. Ron didn't say anything. He crouched down next to Remus, an arm around Remus's shoulder. As Remus felt his exhaustion taking over, he knew that when he woke up next he would be glad to be back.
Title: Azkaban
Rating/Warnings: PG, maybe PG-13 because it hints at Bellatrix' preferences
Characters/Pairing: Bellatrix Lestrange/Augustus Rookwood
Summary: "They don't need walls and water to keep the prisoners in, not when they're trapped inside their own heads, incapable of a single cheerful thought. Most go mad within weeks."
Most do,yes. Some however find themselves in paradise.
Word Count: 336
Author's Notes: Written for silveredaccents who requested Bellatrix/Augustus. I hope you like my first attempt at writing both characters. Also written in response to hh_writersblock's challenge "What's that sound?".
Bellatrix delighted in the moans and cries of despair all around her. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back a bit. The anguish around her was music in her ears, and she started to giggle in sheer ecstasy at finding herself in this place that couldn't be more perfect if she tried.
She could feel the Dementors being momentarily interested in her, until they realised that she wasn't experiencing happiness so much as obsession, an obsession stemming from her deepest, darkest core. Bellatrix had discovered long ago that the Dementors didn't appreciate dark obsession as much as pure, naïve happiness. They left her alone.
Bellatrix particularly liked hearing the sobs when her follow prisoners realised that they'd been unsuccessful in clinging to their last happy memory. She smirked as she sat on the cold stone floor, listening to the sounds around her.
A deep, booming laugh disturbed Bellatrix' musings. Who dared disturb her? More importantly, who dared laugh, no one laughed in Azkaban! Bellatrix looked around until her eyes found the offender. Augustus! Of course.
The Dementors seemed to be equally uninterested in Augustus's laugh as they were in her giggles. That fact alone was enough to send a thrill of excitement through Bellatrix. But it was nothing compared to what she felt when Augustus caught her eye and they simply looked at each other.
Bellatrix had always been the odd one out, not that she had minded much. It made pursuing her perverse pleasures so much easier. Even with like-minded people she had never encountered anyone who understood her fully, who appreciated her obsession for what it was. Oh, her husband enjoyed pain, especially the kind that his wife inflicted on him, but he didn't understand.
Now, she felt as if she was looking in a mirror, everything she was was there as well. He understood. For the first time in her life, Bellatrix felt true happiness, happiness that lasted but a second as the Dementors glided over and took it from her.
Title: Keeping up appearances
Rating/Warnings: PG/none
Characters/Pairing: Lucius/Narcissa, baby Draco
Summary: The love she felt for her son diminished the hate she had for her husband.
Word Count: 350
Author's Notes: Written for valkyrie_lisa who requested Lucius/Narcissa. I am not sure this is what you had in mind, dear, but it is what came to my mind. Also written in response to hh_writersblock's challenge "Oh, how I loathe thee, most of the time".
Keeping up appearances
"When a wizard goes over ter the Dark Side, there's nothin' and no one that matters to 'em anymore..."
-- Rubeus Hagrid
"Lucius," Narcissa pleaded. Draco was resting in her arms, having cried himself to sleep. "Please don't leave, not tonight. Please!"
"Don't be stupid, Narcissa, you know I can't miss the meeting. What would people think if the Malfoy family wasn't present at such an important gathering."
"But what about your son, what about us?"
"Oh, Narcissa darling, this is about us, about our son! Don't you want him to succeed in life? Don't you want to try everything you can so that he will one day be respected and powerful? He's a Malfoy, for goodness' sake!"
Narcissa looked at her husband, tears shining in her eyes. "I want him to be happy, I want him to be loved …" she murmured.
"Ah, nonsense. I knew it was a bad idea to let you nurse the child. It is messing with your head, Narcissa."
Narcissa glared at her husband's retreating back. Hatred was coursing through her, white-hot and dangerous. How could he be so cold, so heartless toward his son? She looked down at Draco, who was still asleep, Malfoy arguments never being loud, but rather delivered in vicious whispers. Narcissa gently stroke the light-blond hair on Draco's head.
The love she felt for her son diminished the hate she had for her husband. If it wasn't for Draco, she didn't think she'd still be here. It was true that she should be grateful that Lucius Malfoy had agreed to marry her; having a bloodtraitor as a sister seriously hindered pureblood matchmaking. She had been thrilled when Lucius had first courted her, showering her with attention and gifts. It was only after she was pregnant with Draco, that she noticed his increasing distance and coldness toward her. She had done her job, she had given him an heir.
Narcissa knew that Lucius wouldn't care if she left. She could never leave without her son though, and Lucius would never allow his heir to taken out of his sphere of influence.
Narcissa sighed and began to sing a lullaby, quiet and haltingly, singing through the tears that were now freely flowing.
Title: You Raise Me Up
Rating/Warnings: PG/post-war, mention of war injuries (nothing graphic though).
Characters/Pairing: Harry/Luna
Words: 209
Author's Notes: Written for sortinghatdrabs
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I stare across the lake. Nothing to see, but everything is better than what lies behind me: a castle in ruins, death, silence. Hogwarts has been many things, but never silent. I sigh, trying to keep my hands still. They haven't stopped shaking since the Battle.
Out-of-tune singing shakes me out of my thoughts. I catch a glimpse of blonde hair. Luna. Luna can almost make you believe that none of the war ever happened, if it wasn't for her frank comments that make people cringe and feel awkward, while she smiles dreamily, seemingly unaffected.
Luna reaches me, and she smiles radiantly. "I brought you something. Billywig wings." She looks at me expectantly.
"Billywig?"
"They're not going to help with your tremors," she continues matter-of-factly. I hide my hands in my robe pockets; no one ever mentions my hands! "But look!" She holds one of the wings up against the sky where the meagre light catches and reflects in a million rainbow colours. "Pretty, isn't it?"
"Yes," I say, and I smile, feeling happier than I have in a long time.
"Daddy says too few people care about Billywig wings; they're usually interested in their stingers. They make you feel lighter, the wings."
"They do." And you do, Luna.
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Title: To Be Seen
Rating/Warnings: G/none
Characters/Pairings: Pansy/Ginny, Draco
Words: 199
Author's Notes: Written for sortinghatdrabs
Pansy checked herself in the mirror one last time. Perfect! She and Draco would be a stunning couple.
After all, that was what the whole evening was about: to be seen in the right clothes with the right people. Pansy smiled with satisfaction; she felt as if she'd reached the evening's goal before even leaving her dormitory.
**+*+*+**
They were slowly waltzing round the dance floor, Pansy making sure that Draco was at the right spot at the right time. Draco lowered his head and whispered into her ear, "Look at the oaf Longbottom. He keeps stepping on the Weasel girl's toes. Serves her right!" he sneered.
Pansy schooled her face into an expression neutral enough to not openly offend, mean enough to hurt those it was aimed at. Longbottom and Weasley, what a perfectly disastrous match, she thought.
Ready to shoot her patented glare at the couple, she looked up - and found that she was looking into brilliant brown eyes - piercing, intense, beautiful eyes looking directly at her.
Pansy tore her gaze away from Ginny's face and looked down, blushing. Maybe the evening wasn't about being seen after all; maybe it was about seeing the right person.
Title: Bugger!
Rating/Warnings: PG/None really, Ron swears a bit.
Characters/Pairings: Ron/Pansy
Words: 384
Author's Notes: Written for sortinghatdrabs
She's annoying. No, strike that, she's a complete bitch! I glare at the back of Pansy Parkinson's head. She's sitting next to Malfoy and fawning over him, it's sickening!
I feel Hermione elbow me and hear her urgent "Snape!" but can't tear my eyes away from Ferret and Pug-face.
"Mr Weasley, while I am sure that a young lady like Miss Parkinson is fascinating to you, I would appreciate if you could concentrate on my class. Judging by your performance, this is not only advisable but strictly necessary. Detention, Mr Weasley, tomorrow night at seven, here."
I can't stiffle a groan. Shit! I look past Snape to glare at Parkinson and Malfoy, who predictably sneers, highly amused. Pug-face surprises me by winking. Winking! I gape at her.
;-;-;-;
I enter the dungeon classroom. Pansy is already there, scrubbing furiously at a dirty cauldron. No magic. 'Bugger,' I think, remembering the bedpans that Snape had made me clean. I shudder.
Pansy turns around and smiles at me. Pleasantly. Which makes her look almost pretty.
"Hello Ron."
"Um, hello, pu- Parkinson," I reply. Almost called her pug-face, and why's she calling me Ron? I frown.
"I didn't know you had a stutter, Ron. Is that why you're always so quiet?" She sounds sincere, but I am sure she's just taking the mickey.
"I don't stutter!"
"Oh, all the better." She smiles again; she really does look pretty when she does that.
I return her smile, still wary of her sudden friendliness, but deciding that I might as well play along. I pick up a cloth and start helping Parkinson with her cauldron.
We look at each other. She has really pretty eyes, too. I move towards her, towards her lips. My eyes flutter close.
I receive a nasty blow in the ribs. Should have known! Incredulous, I am about to yell at her, but my "Pansy!" dies on my lips when I look into Hermione's eyes. I blink at her.
"You were asleep and moaning," she reprimands me, "even Professor Binns noticed." She shakes her head in disgust.
'Bugger,' I think, Pansy's face imprinted in front of my inner eye. Bugger!
Title: Dangerous Minds
Rating/Warnings: PG/none
Characters/Pairings: Tom Riddle/Moaning Myrtle
Words: 517
Author's Notes: Written for sortinghatdrabs.
Tom Riddle walked into the library and purposefully strode over to the librarian's desk. Madam Pince looked up. Her stern look softened considerably when she realised the person who dared disturb her was Tom, and she gave him a small nod. Tom inclined his head to thank her and made his way over to the Restricted Section.
They had had this arrangement since Tom's first year at Hogwarts: Tom was allowed to view and take out books from the Restricted Section. In return, he was nice to Madam Pince, smiled at her, sometimes paid her a compliment.
Tom sneered; she was so easy to manipulate. Most people were.
He was about to push open the small door that partitioned off the more dangerous books when he realised someone was looking at him. That Ravenclaw girl again! Her eyes were unnaturally large behind her glasses as she stared at him intently.
There was something in her gaze that made him stop. He walked over to the table she occupied, hidden behind enormous piles of books.
He knew she wasn't a very popular girl. She would stutter and blush when the great Tom Riddle started talking to her. "Hello," he greeted.
"Why do you keep sneaking into the Restricted Section?" No stutter, no blush. Instead, she held his gaze firmly. Intriguing!
"I'm not sneaking. I research. Why are you spying on me?"
"I'm not. I notice things. And I think you're up to something. I should report you!" She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him.
"I told you: I use the Restricted Section for my research. I have permission to enter." Why was he even talking to the insolent girl?
"It is easy to manipulate Madam Pince." She said it casually, in her know-it-all Ravenclaw manner, but to Tom the utterance held a threat. No one dared challenge him! And no one would endanger his plans; he'd see to that. Who would have thought that a spotty, bespectacled loser could possibly become a threat to him?
"I don't know what you mean," Tom answered innocently.
He gave her a piercing look, her eyes practically inviting him into her mind. Tom expected something neat and well-ordered; instead he found chaos: thoughts, emotions, snippets of information were flying past him in a whirlwind, too fast, too random, too much.
... crying - hiding in a bathroom - bored - reading a book - watching Tom - arguing with a fellow Ravenclaw - standing in front of the Restricted Section - playing with her food in the Great Hall - lonely - holding back the tears as some girls teased her - excited - misunderstood - biting her lips - running her fingers along an Ancient Runes text - following Tom out of the Great Hall - looking at herself in a mirror ...
Tom pulled back out of her mind, staggering slightly. Well hidden in the jumble of her thoughts was a clear message: She was dangerous. He had to get rid of her.
Title: Ghosts ... Dreams
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: implied character death, (a bit more than) implied Ron/unspecified character.
Characters/Parings: (past) Harry/Ron, Ron/unspecified character
Word count: 357
Author's Notes: Inspired by Alfred Douglas's poem "Wine in Summer". Written for the harry_and_ron drabble challenge.
Ron closed his eyes, breathing in the heady midsummer air. Around him, the forest was alive. Insects were buzzing, birds singing a lazy song. The heat was enveloping him in a cocoon of sleepiness and memories.
They aren't speaking to each other.
In fact, they avoid even the slightest eye contact.
Ron's arms are crossed over his chest and he pouts.
He feels a hand on his shoulder, which he shrugs off angrily.
He is turned around harshly and finds himself looking into brilliantly green eyes.
"Stop ignoring me, you git!" Harry yells,
then presses his lips to Ron's in a bruising kiss.
Harry's hand cups Ron's cheek. They hug each other,
Ron bending down slightly, Harry standing on his toes.
Harry sighs. "I missed you!"
Ron kisses Harry's scar ever so lightly. Harry said it tickles, but still sighs in contentment every time Ron's lips touch his forehead.
Ron gets back late from work; summers are always busy,
especially shortly before the new school year.
Harry is already asleep. Ron quietly climbs into bed.
He moves closer and spoons around Harry's back. It never fails to amaze him
how very perfectly they fit together.
Ron felt the sun set, heard the increasing silence. He also felt the familiar weight settle on his soul. After all those years, it still hurt. The emptiness Harry left behind was always more pronounced when Ron returned back to reality. Gods, how he missed him!
Ron concentrated on the soothing tranquility of the forest. He heard the rustle of leaves, very quiet. The person who was approaching was clearly familiar with the hidden path, but still disturbed the neutral peace into which the forest had settled.
All too sudden, the last of the sun rays were blocked out by a silhouette.
"Come back home, Ron. It's getting cold." The quiet, friendly tones masked the hurt Ron caused by withdrawing time and again.
"Was about ready to come back anyway," Ron mumbled.
He grabbed the extended hand and held it firmly as they made their way back to Hogsmeade.
The ghosts and dreams stayed behind. They would be waiting for him.
Title: In the Autumn of his Years
Rating/Warnings: PG, AU
Characters/Pairing: Remus Lupin
Summary: It's time to let go ...
Word Count: 117 (not counting Shakespeare quote)
Author's Notes: Written for hh_writersblock, challenge: seasons.
That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
Remus was content. Sirius had left him Grimmauld Place. Even if he felt lonely sometimes, he could have done a lot worse. He was alive, he was relatively healthy, but what he appreciated most of all was the stability that, for once, was present in his life. There was no fear of eviction, a steady supply of Wolfsbane Potion thanks to Severus and an abundance of food thanks to Molly's kindness.
He felt calmer than he had in years. Almost happy. Sometimes Remus wondered whether he had just stopped asking for more, whether he had started to be satisfied with what he had. Which wasn't much, but enough for one man to live ... and die ... in comfort.
Title: Relived Reality
Rating/Warnings: PG/character death
Characters/Pairing: Harry, implied Harry/Cedric
Words: 250
Author's Notes: Written for sortinghatdrabs
Harry knew he was reaching his breaking point. He tried to stay awake, afraid of the nightmares, but he didn't know how much longer he'd be able to continue like that. Things had been okay while he was still at Hogwarts, with Ron and Hermione around. They'd been able to take his mind off the things that were best not dwelt upon. Now, though, they weren't there distract him. Harry'd never felt more alone than he did now. Ron and Hermione wrote letters, yes, but their cryptic messages only made him feel more isolated.
Happy birthday! Well, screw that! As if a bit of chocolate was going to do any good. Frustrated and angry, Harry threw away the Honeydukes chocolates Ron and Hermione had sent him.
Harry just wanted to forget, just for a while. He wanted to be able to close his eyes and not look into blank grey ones. He wanted to sleep and not find himself in a graveyard. The nightmares were worse than any he'd had before; they were relived reality. And they were worse when they were preceded by another reality. When Cedric laughed with him instead of lying spread-eagled on the ground. When grey eyes looked at him with trust and love before losing their expression entirely. When he kissed lips that were warm and alive, only to feel them turn cold and unresponsive, knowing that, in his dream, he would open his eyes and look into a dead boy's face. Cedric's face.