drabbles!
Here are the drabbles requested on my earlier post... I'll still take requests, if anyone else wants a ficlet.
For sazzlette:
Pilgrimage
Harry Potter threw himself through the Veil out of despair, anger and fear. His hatred of fame had crystalized in the long, terrible years after Voldemort’s death at his hands, and try as he might he couldn’t seem to grasp the optimistic outlook that had kept him sane through his tormented childhood, hunted adolescence and violent coming of age.
The final moments of his life were filled with exuberant joy, creeping through darkened corridors of the Ministry of Magic under his father’s Invisibility Cloak, reliving first happy moments of his life.
He didn’t hesitate before running full force at the veil, throwing his cloak aside and leaping into the unknown and the uncertain confidently. If he paused, if he looked back for even a second the thought of all the people who relied on him and all the people who loved him and all the people he loved in return would overwhelm him, and he wouldn’t be able to go through with it.
As soon as he hit the Veil, a cold feeling overtook his limbs, and despite the running start he’d taken he fell down immediately, limp.
He didn’t know how long he lay there, staring at blackness that began to attain depth and shape and form the longer he stared into it.
He didn’t know how long it had been before he could move. Maybe seconds, minutes or years after he leapt through the Veil, he managed to stand and move deeper in the darkness. He couldn’t quite see, not in the way he used to be able to, but somehow he knew which paths through the darkness were safe and which were perilous.
So he walked. He walked through the blackness until it became familiar, and it became hard to remember anything before the blackness.
Time had lost all meaning, so when he stumbled across someone else traveling through the blackness. They stood before each other, equally wrought in shadows and light, bold against the static darkness of the world they explored.
He’d forgotten how to communicate, and simply reached out through the space to touch the man before him as a greeting, to affirm that the other man existed.
The other man had been here longer, it seemed, and shyed away from his touch at first, but he was persistent and finally touched the white light of face that stood before him. He couldn’t remember what solid flesh felt like, and could no longer tell if what he touched now was normal or bizarre. He just knew it felt like home.
“S-sirius,” said the other man, touching his hand reverently. A single word that encapsulated who and what the man was, a single word that he had clung to in this expressionless world.
“Harry,” he replied, not realizing he’d forgotten his own name until it sprang unbidden from his lips.
They walked together through the blackness now, each knowing what paths the other had already traversed and each wanting to explore the same trails. They gripped each other’s hands, both afraid of losing the one bit of companionship they could remember in the dark infinity.
“I knew you,” Harry said once. “I loved you.”
Sirius stopped, staring away from Harry into the darkness that loomed closer today.
“I know you,” Sirius replied. “I love you.”
It wasn’t the same thing at all, and Harry clung to it desperately. The words echoed deeply in the empty world they were in. He wrapped his arms around Sirius, and clung to him desperately.
Sirius had been his lifeline before, in the world of color and brightness. Now Sirius was his life, and Harry had become Sirius’s life.
When he thought, he didn’t wonder how he had found his godfather in the immensity of the world beyond the Veil. He didn’t boggle at the change between them, didn’t mourn his lost past. He simply enjoyed the feeling of Sirius’s hand grasped within his own, and prayed that he would never have to travel through the darkness alone again.
***
*
For rainpuddle13:
Espionage
Order meetings had taken on a startling new dynamic after Pansy Parkinson sashayed into the room after Professor McGonagall. Pansy was a lot quicker to inform the Order that some - or all - of their plans were utter rubbish than anyone else, and Ron couldn’t help his jealousy that he had been forced to wait for ages before being allowed to participate in the Order while that sneaky little Slytherin had been allowed to walk right in and be a member with no questions asked.
Well, questions had been asked, but Ron couldn’t be bothered to believe that there had been enough inquiries before she had been allowed to enter. She had been Draco Malfoy’s girlfriend, the perfect Slytherin girl and suddenly, everyone was believing that she had changed her tune.
People didn’t change like that, Ron knew. There was no way the loudmouthed, stubborn girl could possibly be anything but a spy. But when he tried to share his fears with others, they sighed or laughed or told him to go bother someone else, or that he was being silly.
Ron wasn’t going to allow Pansy to spy on the order so blatantly, though. He decided that it was up to him to stop her.
He was on his third day of observing her (he’d asked Tonks and Mad-Eye about the proper way to gather information) when she whirled around, shoved him into the closest room and shut the door, snapping, “What the hell are you doing, Weasley?”
“I know what you’re up to!” Ron snapped back. “Death Eater spy!”
Pansy’s jaw dropped, and she said in a stiff voice, “I knew you were dumb, Weasley, but I didn’t realize just how much.”
Ron sputtered.
“I am not a Death Eater spy!” Pansy continued, voice rising in pitch to an annoyed tone Ron knew well. “You really think that everyone in Slytherin is a Death Eater, don’t you? Like one fourth of the witches and wizards at school are devoted to the Dark Lord. Do you really think that would even be allowed?”
“Well,” Ron said without thinking, then paused.
“You stupid lug,” Pansy said.
“I still don’t trust you,” Ron said, glaring at the brunette warily. She smirked, stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. Ron responded, pulling her close, before realizing what he was doing and let her go abruptly.
Pansy rocked back on her heels, glared at him, and said, “Stop following me around.”
“Fine,” Ron said.
They both stomped out of the room, and Ron pretended to not see the wide grins on Fred and George’s faces as they passed.
***
*
For sarea_okelani:
Two Peas in a Pod
“What the hell are you doing?” Ginny demanded, hands on her hips.
“Nothing,” Draco replied, watching the peanut oil boil.
“You’re doing something, Draco, I’m looking right at you!” Ginny said. She walked across the yard. This morning, to her utter dismay, her favorite cutoffs wouldn’t button. She hadn’t caved, though, and wore them proudly, even if the unbuttoned fly was a mite trashy in her eyes.
“You were so sad this morning I thought I’d fix supper,” Draco said. He held up a turkey. “We’re having deep-fried turkey!”
“Oh, baby!” Ginny exclaimed, staring at the raw turkey in rapture. “You know that’s my favorite kind!”
Draco dunked the turkey into the deep fryer. “I invited a few friends over, since the two of us couldn’t possibly eat this entire turkey.”
Ginny froze. “By friends, whose do you mean?”
“Ours,” Draco replied.
“But we don’t have friends,” Ginny said. “I have friends and you have friends.”
“I thought what’s mine is yours,” Draco said. “I vowed it and everything.”
“Who did you invite?” Ginny asked again, as she heard a slight rumble from the road. She turned to see a large white El Dorado cruising up the driveway, followed by a rust colored Pinto that was practically bouncing off the ground from the speakers stacked in the hatchback. “Please tell me it isn’t them, Draco. Not them.”
“They’re my friends!” Draco protested as the El Dorado rolled to a stop and Gregory Goyle climbed out, wearing a camo shirt with the sleeves ripped off and overalls. Vincent Crabbe hopped out of the other side, wearing a Phat Farm shirt and blue camo pants. There was some struggle, then Theodore Nott managed to climb out of the Pinto, shoving his cast covered leg, and pulled his crutches out of the backseat.
The next thing Ginny knew, Crabbe, Goyle and Nott were crowded around the deep fryer, watching the turkey cook with rapt expressions.
“Deep-fry the corn, too,” Crabbe suggested.
Ginny sighed, went into the house and got her favorite pink nail file and settled on the picnic table. She set about filing her nails into perfection while listening to the whoops and hollars of the boys as they tried to set various things around the yard on fire.
She didn’t notice Pansy until the girl sat down on the table next to her and plucked the file out of her hands. “Stop it, sugar, or you’re not gonna have any nails left.”
“What are you doing here?” Ginny snapped.
“Ya’ll are having a party. I thought I’d join in,” Pansy replied. She cast an eye at Ginny’s shorts. “Having trouble buttoning your britches?”
Ginny scowled.
“You know what it is yet?” Pansy asked, in a gentler voice this time.
“Not yet,” Ginny replied, hand straying to her burgeoning belly. Then suspiciously, she asked, “Why do you even care?”
“Well, I didn’t like you much,” Pansy said. “I guess I figured Draco would come to his senses and come back to me.” A wry grin. “Since he was mine first and all.”
Ginny grinned. “Well, he’s mine last.”
“Does he still do that thing, with the look and that hilarious little shimmy that he thinks is so sexy?” Pansy asked, leaning over with delight sparkling in her eyes.
Ginny burst out laughing, and said, “Where the hell did he get the idea that was anywhere near sexy?”
Pansy joined in her laughter. Across the yard, Draco watched nervously as he took the deep fried turkey out of the vat.
“Look at him,” Ginny said, delighted. “He’s terrified of what we’re laughing at.”
Pansy giggled, and said, “Well, probably with good cause.”
“True,” Ginny snickered.
***
*
For lielabell:
Trust Issues
Blaise didn’t trust beautiful women.
His mother was a beautiful woman. His mother had a new husband every time he turned around as a child, and then he would have to attend another funeral, dressed in his best clothes and staring vacantly at a gilded coffin. His mother loved him, as much as she could love anyone, and he loved her for that, but deep in his gut he couldn’t trust her.
So when he cast his eyes on his classmates, saw the pretty schoolgirls and the gorgeous vixens who stalked the halls of Hogwarts, he hadn’t trusted his heart with any of them. He might flirt, he might kiss and pet them in darkened corners, but Blaise held the beautiful in contempt. Everything came to easily for them. They thought themselves better than he.
They strode away from him, skirts swinging enticingly over rounded hips. And while the view was good, the feel of silky skin taunt over muscular bodies unforgettable, he felt hollow.
The pretty girls flocked to him because he was beautiful too, but the more he had the more he realized he just didn’t care about them. It was like the same girl in different hues appeared before him around every corner, and none of them felt real to him.
Millicent Bulstrode wasn’t beautiful or thin or charming, and Blaise found himself loving her fiercely for it.
They were in their final year of Hogwarts, and everything had begun to feel even more empty as students he hadn’t realized he cared were around hadn’t chosen to return to Hogwarts. He had been friends with Draco Malfoy, so that explained missing the snobby, conceited boy, but he hadn’t even payed the Gryffindors any mind. But somehow the few students who were missing had held the spirit of Hogwarts.
The Slytherin common room had been uncomfortable and foreign since they had returned. Pansy looked lost without Draco to cling to, and Crabbe and Goyle sometimes talked in low tones, but most often just stared off into the distance.
Millicent hadn’t succumbed to the doldrums that had infected the rest of the school. Blaise had never really realized how alive she was, eyes shining brightly as she scribbled her Astronomy essay or read a particularly interesting book. She would snap at anyone who dared interrupt her, snarling and not fearing to twist her features.
Blaise had grown up watching his mother carefully modulate every expression so that her features remained pristine, holding in any reaction or expression that might make her appear human .
To him, Millicent’s rawness was beauty.
When he spoke to her, she didn’t bother to change her tone or smile flirtatiously. She knew her place and accepted that he wasn’t even a possibility for her. He was too beautiful, too rich and too cultured to want an ugly, fat girl who had never traveled further away from home than her school.
And one day, alone in the common room sitting beside her as she talked excitedly about a History of Magic paper she was working on, Blaise realized that he trusted Millicent.
He trusted her because of who she was, not because of her looks or charm or flirtatious looks. He loved her because of who she was, and suddenly, he was afraid to let her know.
“You’re looking at me funny,” Millicent said, giving him a half-smile.
Blaise shook his head.
“Blaise?” she asked, touching his arm lightly.
“What?” he asked, feeling foolishly nervous. He was never nervous around girls.
“I’m here for you,” she said. “Always. Remember that.”
“I’m here for you, too,” Blaise said, smiling at her. To his surprise, she gave him a full smile back, and for a moment she was beautiful.
And he still trusted her.
*
Hope you all enjoyed them, I had a blast writing!
For sazzlette:
Pilgrimage
Harry Potter threw himself through the Veil out of despair, anger and fear. His hatred of fame had crystalized in the long, terrible years after Voldemort’s death at his hands, and try as he might he couldn’t seem to grasp the optimistic outlook that had kept him sane through his tormented childhood, hunted adolescence and violent coming of age.
The final moments of his life were filled with exuberant joy, creeping through darkened corridors of the Ministry of Magic under his father’s Invisibility Cloak, reliving first happy moments of his life.
He didn’t hesitate before running full force at the veil, throwing his cloak aside and leaping into the unknown and the uncertain confidently. If he paused, if he looked back for even a second the thought of all the people who relied on him and all the people who loved him and all the people he loved in return would overwhelm him, and he wouldn’t be able to go through with it.
As soon as he hit the Veil, a cold feeling overtook his limbs, and despite the running start he’d taken he fell down immediately, limp.
He didn’t know how long he lay there, staring at blackness that began to attain depth and shape and form the longer he stared into it.
He didn’t know how long it had been before he could move. Maybe seconds, minutes or years after he leapt through the Veil, he managed to stand and move deeper in the darkness. He couldn’t quite see, not in the way he used to be able to, but somehow he knew which paths through the darkness were safe and which were perilous.
So he walked. He walked through the blackness until it became familiar, and it became hard to remember anything before the blackness.
Time had lost all meaning, so when he stumbled across someone else traveling through the blackness. They stood before each other, equally wrought in shadows and light, bold against the static darkness of the world they explored.
He’d forgotten how to communicate, and simply reached out through the space to touch the man before him as a greeting, to affirm that the other man existed.
The other man had been here longer, it seemed, and shyed away from his touch at first, but he was persistent and finally touched the white light of face that stood before him. He couldn’t remember what solid flesh felt like, and could no longer tell if what he touched now was normal or bizarre. He just knew it felt like home.
“S-sirius,” said the other man, touching his hand reverently. A single word that encapsulated who and what the man was, a single word that he had clung to in this expressionless world.
“Harry,” he replied, not realizing he’d forgotten his own name until it sprang unbidden from his lips.
They walked together through the blackness now, each knowing what paths the other had already traversed and each wanting to explore the same trails. They gripped each other’s hands, both afraid of losing the one bit of companionship they could remember in the dark infinity.
“I knew you,” Harry said once. “I loved you.”
Sirius stopped, staring away from Harry into the darkness that loomed closer today.
“I know you,” Sirius replied. “I love you.”
It wasn’t the same thing at all, and Harry clung to it desperately. The words echoed deeply in the empty world they were in. He wrapped his arms around Sirius, and clung to him desperately.
Sirius had been his lifeline before, in the world of color and brightness. Now Sirius was his life, and Harry had become Sirius’s life.
When he thought, he didn’t wonder how he had found his godfather in the immensity of the world beyond the Veil. He didn’t boggle at the change between them, didn’t mourn his lost past. He simply enjoyed the feeling of Sirius’s hand grasped within his own, and prayed that he would never have to travel through the darkness alone again.
***
*
For rainpuddle13:
Espionage
Order meetings had taken on a startling new dynamic after Pansy Parkinson sashayed into the room after Professor McGonagall. Pansy was a lot quicker to inform the Order that some - or all - of their plans were utter rubbish than anyone else, and Ron couldn’t help his jealousy that he had been forced to wait for ages before being allowed to participate in the Order while that sneaky little Slytherin had been allowed to walk right in and be a member with no questions asked.
Well, questions had been asked, but Ron couldn’t be bothered to believe that there had been enough inquiries before she had been allowed to enter. She had been Draco Malfoy’s girlfriend, the perfect Slytherin girl and suddenly, everyone was believing that she had changed her tune.
People didn’t change like that, Ron knew. There was no way the loudmouthed, stubborn girl could possibly be anything but a spy. But when he tried to share his fears with others, they sighed or laughed or told him to go bother someone else, or that he was being silly.
Ron wasn’t going to allow Pansy to spy on the order so blatantly, though. He decided that it was up to him to stop her.
He was on his third day of observing her (he’d asked Tonks and Mad-Eye about the proper way to gather information) when she whirled around, shoved him into the closest room and shut the door, snapping, “What the hell are you doing, Weasley?”
“I know what you’re up to!” Ron snapped back. “Death Eater spy!”
Pansy’s jaw dropped, and she said in a stiff voice, “I knew you were dumb, Weasley, but I didn’t realize just how much.”
Ron sputtered.
“I am not a Death Eater spy!” Pansy continued, voice rising in pitch to an annoyed tone Ron knew well. “You really think that everyone in Slytherin is a Death Eater, don’t you? Like one fourth of the witches and wizards at school are devoted to the Dark Lord. Do you really think that would even be allowed?”
“Well,” Ron said without thinking, then paused.
“You stupid lug,” Pansy said.
“I still don’t trust you,” Ron said, glaring at the brunette warily. She smirked, stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. Ron responded, pulling her close, before realizing what he was doing and let her go abruptly.
Pansy rocked back on her heels, glared at him, and said, “Stop following me around.”
“Fine,” Ron said.
They both stomped out of the room, and Ron pretended to not see the wide grins on Fred and George’s faces as they passed.
***
*
For sarea_okelani:
Two Peas in a Pod
“What the hell are you doing?” Ginny demanded, hands on her hips.
“Nothing,” Draco replied, watching the peanut oil boil.
“You’re doing something, Draco, I’m looking right at you!” Ginny said. She walked across the yard. This morning, to her utter dismay, her favorite cutoffs wouldn’t button. She hadn’t caved, though, and wore them proudly, even if the unbuttoned fly was a mite trashy in her eyes.
“You were so sad this morning I thought I’d fix supper,” Draco said. He held up a turkey. “We’re having deep-fried turkey!”
“Oh, baby!” Ginny exclaimed, staring at the raw turkey in rapture. “You know that’s my favorite kind!”
Draco dunked the turkey into the deep fryer. “I invited a few friends over, since the two of us couldn’t possibly eat this entire turkey.”
Ginny froze. “By friends, whose do you mean?”
“Ours,” Draco replied.
“But we don’t have friends,” Ginny said. “I have friends and you have friends.”
“I thought what’s mine is yours,” Draco said. “I vowed it and everything.”
“Who did you invite?” Ginny asked again, as she heard a slight rumble from the road. She turned to see a large white El Dorado cruising up the driveway, followed by a rust colored Pinto that was practically bouncing off the ground from the speakers stacked in the hatchback. “Please tell me it isn’t them, Draco. Not them.”
“They’re my friends!” Draco protested as the El Dorado rolled to a stop and Gregory Goyle climbed out, wearing a camo shirt with the sleeves ripped off and overalls. Vincent Crabbe hopped out of the other side, wearing a Phat Farm shirt and blue camo pants. There was some struggle, then Theodore Nott managed to climb out of the Pinto, shoving his cast covered leg, and pulled his crutches out of the backseat.
The next thing Ginny knew, Crabbe, Goyle and Nott were crowded around the deep fryer, watching the turkey cook with rapt expressions.
“Deep-fry the corn, too,” Crabbe suggested.
Ginny sighed, went into the house and got her favorite pink nail file and settled on the picnic table. She set about filing her nails into perfection while listening to the whoops and hollars of the boys as they tried to set various things around the yard on fire.
She didn’t notice Pansy until the girl sat down on the table next to her and plucked the file out of her hands. “Stop it, sugar, or you’re not gonna have any nails left.”
“What are you doing here?” Ginny snapped.
“Ya’ll are having a party. I thought I’d join in,” Pansy replied. She cast an eye at Ginny’s shorts. “Having trouble buttoning your britches?”
Ginny scowled.
“You know what it is yet?” Pansy asked, in a gentler voice this time.
“Not yet,” Ginny replied, hand straying to her burgeoning belly. Then suspiciously, she asked, “Why do you even care?”
“Well, I didn’t like you much,” Pansy said. “I guess I figured Draco would come to his senses and come back to me.” A wry grin. “Since he was mine first and all.”
Ginny grinned. “Well, he’s mine last.”
“Does he still do that thing, with the look and that hilarious little shimmy that he thinks is so sexy?” Pansy asked, leaning over with delight sparkling in her eyes.
Ginny burst out laughing, and said, “Where the hell did he get the idea that was anywhere near sexy?”
Pansy joined in her laughter. Across the yard, Draco watched nervously as he took the deep fried turkey out of the vat.
“Look at him,” Ginny said, delighted. “He’s terrified of what we’re laughing at.”
Pansy giggled, and said, “Well, probably with good cause.”
“True,” Ginny snickered.
***
*
For lielabell:
Trust Issues
Blaise didn’t trust beautiful women.
His mother was a beautiful woman. His mother had a new husband every time he turned around as a child, and then he would have to attend another funeral, dressed in his best clothes and staring vacantly at a gilded coffin. His mother loved him, as much as she could love anyone, and he loved her for that, but deep in his gut he couldn’t trust her.
So when he cast his eyes on his classmates, saw the pretty schoolgirls and the gorgeous vixens who stalked the halls of Hogwarts, he hadn’t trusted his heart with any of them. He might flirt, he might kiss and pet them in darkened corners, but Blaise held the beautiful in contempt. Everything came to easily for them. They thought themselves better than he.
They strode away from him, skirts swinging enticingly over rounded hips. And while the view was good, the feel of silky skin taunt over muscular bodies unforgettable, he felt hollow.
The pretty girls flocked to him because he was beautiful too, but the more he had the more he realized he just didn’t care about them. It was like the same girl in different hues appeared before him around every corner, and none of them felt real to him.
Millicent Bulstrode wasn’t beautiful or thin or charming, and Blaise found himself loving her fiercely for it.
They were in their final year of Hogwarts, and everything had begun to feel even more empty as students he hadn’t realized he cared were around hadn’t chosen to return to Hogwarts. He had been friends with Draco Malfoy, so that explained missing the snobby, conceited boy, but he hadn’t even payed the Gryffindors any mind. But somehow the few students who were missing had held the spirit of Hogwarts.
The Slytherin common room had been uncomfortable and foreign since they had returned. Pansy looked lost without Draco to cling to, and Crabbe and Goyle sometimes talked in low tones, but most often just stared off into the distance.
Millicent hadn’t succumbed to the doldrums that had infected the rest of the school. Blaise had never really realized how alive she was, eyes shining brightly as she scribbled her Astronomy essay or read a particularly interesting book. She would snap at anyone who dared interrupt her, snarling and not fearing to twist her features.
Blaise had grown up watching his mother carefully modulate every expression so that her features remained pristine, holding in any reaction or expression that might make her appear human .
To him, Millicent’s rawness was beauty.
When he spoke to her, she didn’t bother to change her tone or smile flirtatiously. She knew her place and accepted that he wasn’t even a possibility for her. He was too beautiful, too rich and too cultured to want an ugly, fat girl who had never traveled further away from home than her school.
And one day, alone in the common room sitting beside her as she talked excitedly about a History of Magic paper she was working on, Blaise realized that he trusted Millicent.
He trusted her because of who she was, not because of her looks or charm or flirtatious looks. He loved her because of who she was, and suddenly, he was afraid to let her know.
“You’re looking at me funny,” Millicent said, giving him a half-smile.
Blaise shook his head.
“Blaise?” she asked, touching his arm lightly.
“What?” he asked, feeling foolishly nervous. He was never nervous around girls.
“I’m here for you,” she said. “Always. Remember that.”
“I’m here for you, too,” Blaise said, smiling at her. To his surprise, she gave him a full smile back, and for a moment she was beautiful.
And he still trusted her.
*
Hope you all enjoyed them, I had a blast writing!