Last of the Ficlets
As xellas corrected me.
I do love these, particularly the last one which is dedicated to fleshdress. Though the "Ted and Cheesecake" fic I posted a few days ago still makes me grin.
Prompt: "Minerva and Tea Time"
Rating: PG-13
Length: 339 words
Warnings/Kinks: Tom/Minerva
Summary: Minerva waits, tea and chess laid out.
Everything was in place. The china set carefully on the tea tray, spoons beside the cups, cups carefully placed on their saucers. She had ordered up the right kind of biscuits from the small shop in Edinburgh that her Grandmother used to frequent. With a nervous hand she adjusted them into a more pleasing arrangement on the small plate, edged in her family tartan. It wasn't ostentatious, merely a comfort to her to see the familiar red and green curving around delicate ivory. The silverware too was family heirlooms, the strong curving M set amidst the twist of thistles. No roses here. The rose wasn't her. Wasn't them. Normally she might have graced the setting with a fresh spring of heather, gathered on one of her many walks around the grounds. But that wasn't a concession she could afford today.
Her hand twitched nervous along her hip and she glanced to the clock. Punctuality was something she valued, it kept her life in control. A steady tick tick of the clock to mark out each minute, progression, practicality, punctuality. He would be late. She knew. And even in that she could find some comfort. So she set a warming charm on the teapot, glanced over at the chess set to ensure that the knights had their horses at the ready and the pawns were geared for action. Silver against gold, slightly less overt in their standards but obvious none the less. And she waited.
Her stomach twisted when the polite knock came at the door and she looked up from the fabric she was wringing in her hands. "Come in... Tom."
Minerva caught her lower lip between her teeth as the door swung open and the small redheaded girl, dressed in Gryffindor robes, slipped through.
"Good evening, Minerva." she said, but in His voice.
And she knew there would be no end. She was his. Then and now. School time, war time, and tea time. Not even the innocence of an eleven year old girl could save her now.
Prompt: "Anthony and Still Life"
Rating: G
Length: 290 words
Warnings/Kinks: Snow and the Giant Squid
Summary: Anthony waits for life to change.
He sat there in the window sill, watching the snow fall. He loved the winter, provided he could see it from behind charmed windows, in the warmth of his room. The white blanketed the grounds, glistening beyond the frosted glass. Others may call this dreary, the long winters in Scotland. The heavy clouds or the freezing cold. But he could enjoy the quiet layers of ice that covered the earth. He liked to watch the changing shades of white as the snow landed and shifted, morphing to the shape of the hidden land beneath it. It darkened as it landed along the edge of the lake, brown mud frozen under a layer of ice that had spider web cracks in it from the stones the other students would invariably throw.
But here, in the early morning, as the sun rose behind the tall white hills... the world was silent, still. Occasionally he would see a flicker of movement as a bird rose up from the line of trees of the Forest or the Giant Squid complained at cold by flicking mud coated rocks from the lake's floor at the ice. But on the whole it was soothing to exist in the quiet. Part of the world outside without risking the sharp stabbing pain of cold to his delicate hands or the jibing of Michael and Terry for the thick, uncharmed gloves he wore. This was a peace he could find, outside of war and death and lessons. Because he would watch the change of colour until the first streaks of green broke through the frozen land, the resilient buds of life made their presence known. There was hope beyond the ice... and perhaps beyond the frozen clocks in his dreams.
Prompt: "Draco and Sunset"
Rating: PG
Length: 348 words
Warnings/Kinks: Draco/Blaise
Summary: Draco's last night at Hogwarts...
Draco stood on the Tower, looking out over the expanse of hill and glen and the dark shimmer of lake as the sun began to sink. This was it. The owl sat waiting next to him; the note was crushed in his hand. Everything would change now. He had spent the year working to this point, hours spent learning and applying spells better suited to the hands of a magical carpenter than his frail Malfoy hands. But this was his destiny. Whether he like it or not, he had to complete it. He held his father in his hands, the life of his mother a fragile slip of parchment. And Blaise... No. He couldn't think of Blaise now. He had left him in the dungeons, a promise to remain there. And there he would remain. He must. He promised. And promises were... were chains wrapped around him, a noose about his neck.
Perhaps he would be wrong and the completion of his task would be freedom and not another mark on his body. He scowled at his arm, seeing the black form even beyond his robes. Certainly not elegant or desired, but he was owned nevertheless. The light began to fade, long streaks of red bleeding their way across the lake, staining his hands as he tied the message to the offered foot of the owl. His hands trembled for a moment before he clenched them.
What if he didn't release the bird? What if he flew instead? Would his flight from the Tower be message enough to the Dark Lord, to Potter, to Blaise? He looked over the edge, and the ground seemed to swirl up to him. He breathed out a few ragged breaths, hand still clasped to the leg of the owl, holding it and his fate in check. But the mark on his arm abruptly scalded into life and he cried out, crumbling as waves of fire shot up his arm. But he grew suddenly cold again as the released bird took flight toward the evening star and he knew the night had begun.
Feedback brings life to the muse.
I do love these, particularly the last one which is dedicated to fleshdress. Though the "Ted and Cheesecake" fic I posted a few days ago still makes me grin.
Prompt: "Minerva and Tea Time"
Rating: PG-13
Length: 339 words
Warnings/Kinks: Tom/Minerva
Summary: Minerva waits, tea and chess laid out.
Everything was in place. The china set carefully on the tea tray, spoons beside the cups, cups carefully placed on their saucers. She had ordered up the right kind of biscuits from the small shop in Edinburgh that her Grandmother used to frequent. With a nervous hand she adjusted them into a more pleasing arrangement on the small plate, edged in her family tartan. It wasn't ostentatious, merely a comfort to her to see the familiar red and green curving around delicate ivory. The silverware too was family heirlooms, the strong curving M set amidst the twist of thistles. No roses here. The rose wasn't her. Wasn't them. Normally she might have graced the setting with a fresh spring of heather, gathered on one of her many walks around the grounds. But that wasn't a concession she could afford today.
Her hand twitched nervous along her hip and she glanced to the clock. Punctuality was something she valued, it kept her life in control. A steady tick tick of the clock to mark out each minute, progression, practicality, punctuality. He would be late. She knew. And even in that she could find some comfort. So she set a warming charm on the teapot, glanced over at the chess set to ensure that the knights had their horses at the ready and the pawns were geared for action. Silver against gold, slightly less overt in their standards but obvious none the less. And she waited.
Her stomach twisted when the polite knock came at the door and she looked up from the fabric she was wringing in her hands. "Come in... Tom."
Minerva caught her lower lip between her teeth as the door swung open and the small redheaded girl, dressed in Gryffindor robes, slipped through.
"Good evening, Minerva." she said, but in His voice.
And she knew there would be no end. She was his. Then and now. School time, war time, and tea time. Not even the innocence of an eleven year old girl could save her now.
Prompt: "Anthony and Still Life"
Rating: G
Length: 290 words
Warnings/Kinks: Snow and the Giant Squid
Summary: Anthony waits for life to change.
He sat there in the window sill, watching the snow fall. He loved the winter, provided he could see it from behind charmed windows, in the warmth of his room. The white blanketed the grounds, glistening beyond the frosted glass. Others may call this dreary, the long winters in Scotland. The heavy clouds or the freezing cold. But he could enjoy the quiet layers of ice that covered the earth. He liked to watch the changing shades of white as the snow landed and shifted, morphing to the shape of the hidden land beneath it. It darkened as it landed along the edge of the lake, brown mud frozen under a layer of ice that had spider web cracks in it from the stones the other students would invariably throw.
But here, in the early morning, as the sun rose behind the tall white hills... the world was silent, still. Occasionally he would see a flicker of movement as a bird rose up from the line of trees of the Forest or the Giant Squid complained at cold by flicking mud coated rocks from the lake's floor at the ice. But on the whole it was soothing to exist in the quiet. Part of the world outside without risking the sharp stabbing pain of cold to his delicate hands or the jibing of Michael and Terry for the thick, uncharmed gloves he wore. This was a peace he could find, outside of war and death and lessons. Because he would watch the change of colour until the first streaks of green broke through the frozen land, the resilient buds of life made their presence known. There was hope beyond the ice... and perhaps beyond the frozen clocks in his dreams.
Prompt: "Draco and Sunset"
Rating: PG
Length: 348 words
Warnings/Kinks: Draco/Blaise
Summary: Draco's last night at Hogwarts...
Draco stood on the Tower, looking out over the expanse of hill and glen and the dark shimmer of lake as the sun began to sink. This was it. The owl sat waiting next to him; the note was crushed in his hand. Everything would change now. He had spent the year working to this point, hours spent learning and applying spells better suited to the hands of a magical carpenter than his frail Malfoy hands. But this was his destiny. Whether he like it or not, he had to complete it. He held his father in his hands, the life of his mother a fragile slip of parchment. And Blaise... No. He couldn't think of Blaise now. He had left him in the dungeons, a promise to remain there. And there he would remain. He must. He promised. And promises were... were chains wrapped around him, a noose about his neck.
Perhaps he would be wrong and the completion of his task would be freedom and not another mark on his body. He scowled at his arm, seeing the black form even beyond his robes. Certainly not elegant or desired, but he was owned nevertheless. The light began to fade, long streaks of red bleeding their way across the lake, staining his hands as he tied the message to the offered foot of the owl. His hands trembled for a moment before he clenched them.
What if he didn't release the bird? What if he flew instead? Would his flight from the Tower be message enough to the Dark Lord, to Potter, to Blaise? He looked over the edge, and the ground seemed to swirl up to him. He breathed out a few ragged breaths, hand still clasped to the leg of the owl, holding it and his fate in check. But the mark on his arm abruptly scalded into life and he cried out, crumbling as waves of fire shot up his arm. But he grew suddenly cold again as the released bird took flight toward the evening star and he knew the night had begun.
Feedback brings life to the muse.