Eggcorn Challenge @ perposterice
Yeah, I've got NO idea why these things happened in perfect 75-word steps like this, but they did.
WARNING: Dark. Refers obliquely to torture; destruction of a mind.
#45 - Malice of forethought - 150 words - Trio Gen, PG-13
"Ron? Have you got my - what are you doing?" Harry yelped, spotting Ron on his knees next to the sofa.
Ron held up a sheet of parchment. "Planned, all of it. Planned. He knew she was going to be there, found the man and gave him the potion… it wasn't random," he gurgled, and Harry saw that his best mate of almost fifteen years had been crying. And from the smell he'd just noticed, throwing up.
"What? What is it? She, who? He, who?" Harry snatched the parchment and scanned what it contained, then threw it on the floor, away from himself, taking a step back.
From the shadowed curl of heavy, smudged, printed material, Hermione stared glassy-eyed and barely moving from a Daily Prophet photograph, the famous one that had been everywhere for a month after the attack.
Beneath it, in neat, hideously familiar script: A gift - Cheers, DM.
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WARNING: Bodily functions, non-explicit.
#36 - It doesn't pass mustard - 225 words - Draco/Luna, PG
Draco's scream brought his mother running.
"Darling, what is it? Oh, stop having hysterics, you'll frighten my granddaughter."
Draco flapped his hands frantically at the child in question, secured to the changing table with a charm. "That is not a normal baby! It can't be!"
Narcissa sniffed at her son's antics. "You're a father now, and it's time you got past your delicate sensibilities, Draco. Babies soil themselves. Yes, even Malfoy babies. I am this child's grandmother, and I am not required to do the dirty parts any longer. I am only required to spoil Malia and then give her back to you after I have fed her enough chocolate to sustain a small city for a year."
"Mummy, you don't understand. Malia has somehow managed to pass mustard. It's… it smells like it!"
Narcissa sighed. "Your daughter, Draco, though certainly destined to be a most remarkable witch, does not excrete mustard. Now get over there and clean her up. Don't forget the powder when you put the clean nappy on." She paused, and added darkly, "Do not tell your wife the baby passed mustard, Draco. I will not humor her if she hears of this."
Draco steeled himself and approached the baby cautiously. It was difficult, being the son of Narcissa Malfoy and the man who'd managed to get Luna Lovegood to settle down.
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WARNING: Fluff.
#31 - To have an idea down packed - 300 words - Harry/Severus, PG
"Drink deeply of memory, that you may never thirst again."
Harry looked up sharply at Snape, scowling. "Are you still on about your bloody Pensieve? I apologised for that years ago."
Snape rolled his eyes. "Leave it to you to assume everything is about you, Potter. It's a line from a poem that I once read. Muggle author."
Harry snorted. "Since when do you read Muggle literature?"
Snape ignored the question, and bent over Harry's Pensieve. "It seems rather full. Are you sure you haven't removed too much? You don't want to lose track of the hours you've spent memorising Quidditch statistics."
"Belt up, will you? I'm looking for something specific, but it seems to be down deep. I'm having trouble finding it." He dipped his wand and dragged a memory out, placing it in a phial for safekeeping. "I've got plenty of memories to spare, thanks, and you of all people should understand why I'd put some in here."
"What are you looking for, then?"
Harry mumbled something indistinct, and blushed.
"I'm terribly sorry, but you'll have to be clearer than that."
Casting an irritated glare over his shoulder, Harry ground out, "Our first kiss, all right? I'm looking for my memory of our first kiss, you annoying old fart."
Snape chuckled. "Well, you're looking in the wrong place." He bent and removed an old leather-covered box from a low shelf. "I've had that put away along with the other important memories for years."
"The other… like what?" Harry demanded, his mood immediately improving.
Now it was Snape's turn to flush. Slightly. "We must not allow our memories to fade away. Posterity demands a record of the great moments in Harry Potter's astounding life, does it not?"
"Like what, Severus?"
"My memory of our first kiss, you insufferable brat."
WARNING: Dark. Refers obliquely to torture; destruction of a mind.
#45 - Malice of forethought - 150 words - Trio Gen, PG-13
"Ron? Have you got my - what are you doing?" Harry yelped, spotting Ron on his knees next to the sofa.
Ron held up a sheet of parchment. "Planned, all of it. Planned. He knew she was going to be there, found the man and gave him the potion… it wasn't random," he gurgled, and Harry saw that his best mate of almost fifteen years had been crying. And from the smell he'd just noticed, throwing up.
"What? What is it? She, who? He, who?" Harry snatched the parchment and scanned what it contained, then threw it on the floor, away from himself, taking a step back.
From the shadowed curl of heavy, smudged, printed material, Hermione stared glassy-eyed and barely moving from a Daily Prophet photograph, the famous one that had been everywhere for a month after the attack.
Beneath it, in neat, hideously familiar script: A gift - Cheers, DM.
-----------
WARNING: Bodily functions, non-explicit.
#36 - It doesn't pass mustard - 225 words - Draco/Luna, PG
Draco's scream brought his mother running.
"Darling, what is it? Oh, stop having hysterics, you'll frighten my granddaughter."
Draco flapped his hands frantically at the child in question, secured to the changing table with a charm. "That is not a normal baby! It can't be!"
Narcissa sniffed at her son's antics. "You're a father now, and it's time you got past your delicate sensibilities, Draco. Babies soil themselves. Yes, even Malfoy babies. I am this child's grandmother, and I am not required to do the dirty parts any longer. I am only required to spoil Malia and then give her back to you after I have fed her enough chocolate to sustain a small city for a year."
"Mummy, you don't understand. Malia has somehow managed to pass mustard. It's… it smells like it!"
Narcissa sighed. "Your daughter, Draco, though certainly destined to be a most remarkable witch, does not excrete mustard. Now get over there and clean her up. Don't forget the powder when you put the clean nappy on." She paused, and added darkly, "Do not tell your wife the baby passed mustard, Draco. I will not humor her if she hears of this."
Draco steeled himself and approached the baby cautiously. It was difficult, being the son of Narcissa Malfoy and the man who'd managed to get Luna Lovegood to settle down.
-----------
WARNING: Fluff.
#31 - To have an idea down packed - 300 words - Harry/Severus, PG
"Drink deeply of memory, that you may never thirst again."
Harry looked up sharply at Snape, scowling. "Are you still on about your bloody Pensieve? I apologised for that years ago."
Snape rolled his eyes. "Leave it to you to assume everything is about you, Potter. It's a line from a poem that I once read. Muggle author."
Harry snorted. "Since when do you read Muggle literature?"
Snape ignored the question, and bent over Harry's Pensieve. "It seems rather full. Are you sure you haven't removed too much? You don't want to lose track of the hours you've spent memorising Quidditch statistics."
"Belt up, will you? I'm looking for something specific, but it seems to be down deep. I'm having trouble finding it." He dipped his wand and dragged a memory out, placing it in a phial for safekeeping. "I've got plenty of memories to spare, thanks, and you of all people should understand why I'd put some in here."
"What are you looking for, then?"
Harry mumbled something indistinct, and blushed.
"I'm terribly sorry, but you'll have to be clearer than that."
Casting an irritated glare over his shoulder, Harry ground out, "Our first kiss, all right? I'm looking for my memory of our first kiss, you annoying old fart."
Snape chuckled. "Well, you're looking in the wrong place." He bent and removed an old leather-covered box from a low shelf. "I've had that put away along with the other important memories for years."
"The other… like what?" Harry demanded, his mood immediately improving.
Now it was Snape's turn to flush. Slightly. "We must not allow our memories to fade away. Posterity demands a record of the great moments in Harry Potter's astounding life, does it not?"
"Like what, Severus?"
"My memory of our first kiss, you insufferable brat."