Old Drabbles
I'll try to cram all of these into one post. Maybe two or three.
11.11.02: Hermione focused, 307 words, PG
The girls' dormitory in the Gryffindor tower seemed terribly quiet when Hermione woke with a start that gray December morning. It was still a murky kind of dark when her eyes squinted around the room to find the other beds quite empty. She still had a flush to her cheeks, to which she quickly pressed the back of her hand. Warm. The realization hit her rather suddenly, she was late! Panic wriggled its way up from her stomach and clenched tightly to her throat. McGonagall would have her head for it, and at least 10 points from Gryffindor.
A difficult job it was to get dressed in the half-dark, fingers clutching for the parts of her uniform, throwing them on carelessly. Flying down the stairs and out the portal, Hermione didn't even have time to tie her tie properly. It hung disheveled around her neck, tucked hurriedly into her vest.
Upon entering into the classroom, McGonagall gave her a look that could freeze water, but didn't say anything as Hermione took her seat next to Ron and Harry. They both looked at her with a bit of a laugh.
"Good to know you're not entirely perfect, Hermio..." Ron's voice was a merry chiding, until it choked off in the middle of her name. His face had gone a paler shade, as had Harry's. The girl before them gave a frown.
"What?" It was nearly spit out. The last thing she needed was a lecture from Ron about being late. But the two boys weren't looking at her face, and Hermione followed their eyes downward to her own chest. Nestled in the fabric of her collar, sliding down beneath her vest was a tie, colored not in the Gryffindor fashion of red and gold, but in a much more sinister combination of green and silver.
Hermione went pink.
11.27.02: Lily focused, 75 words, G
He'd given up everything to see her again. The slow motion of her rocking back and forth, back and forth, lulled him into a deathly quiet. She was crying for him.
He'd given up everything to see her again. Her life to save him. His life to bring her back.
At that moment in time, it didn't seem too high a price to pay. Blackness followed on the heels of bliss. And still she cried.
11.24.02: R/D, 230 words, PG
Ron's face was pink, the color deepening by the moment, almost reaching the ruddy hue of his red hair. Loathing, that was the best word for the expression on the boy's face. Sheer loathing. Harry watched him intently, not quite knowing whether or not he should intervene.
"Nothing to say Weasley?" Draco Malfoy stood two inches from Ron, bearing down with a fierce sneer, wielding the expression on his face like a sharp weapon. If one of them felt the need to breathe, they?d be touching with the rising and falling of their chests. But neither did.
There was a silence, and it seemed for a moment that the Weasley boy was going to stand down. A group had begun to form around the two of them. Harry, playing nothing more than a spectator, could feel a collective anticipation from the group like a sharp intake of breath.
And then it happened, Ron flung himself onto Draco, toppling the blonde creature backwards onto the ground. The crowd, as a whole, took a step back as Ron?s fists made a thick sort of sound against Draco's chest. The paleness in Malfoy's cheeks melted into a flush, that didn't seem exactly the same sort of flush Ron had upon his furious cheeks. The red-head on top of him snarled, body mashed into his enemies', until Harry pulled him off, struggling immensely with the task. He drug Ron away, who was still swinging.
After a moment, a stillness had risen into the air. Harry and Ron sat in a heap, both breathless. Draco stayed lying on the ground, seemingly staring up at the sky, heaving air in and out of his lungs. The crowd dwindled, and still the three didn't move. Perhaps it was the impact of what just happened. The moment had them all trapped within themselves.
As the moment passed, Harry wondered if he was the only one who'd noticed that Draco hadn't fought back.
11.11.02: Hermione focused, 307 words, PG
The girls' dormitory in the Gryffindor tower seemed terribly quiet when Hermione woke with a start that gray December morning. It was still a murky kind of dark when her eyes squinted around the room to find the other beds quite empty. She still had a flush to her cheeks, to which she quickly pressed the back of her hand. Warm. The realization hit her rather suddenly, she was late! Panic wriggled its way up from her stomach and clenched tightly to her throat. McGonagall would have her head for it, and at least 10 points from Gryffindor.
A difficult job it was to get dressed in the half-dark, fingers clutching for the parts of her uniform, throwing them on carelessly. Flying down the stairs and out the portal, Hermione didn't even have time to tie her tie properly. It hung disheveled around her neck, tucked hurriedly into her vest.
Upon entering into the classroom, McGonagall gave her a look that could freeze water, but didn't say anything as Hermione took her seat next to Ron and Harry. They both looked at her with a bit of a laugh.
"Good to know you're not entirely perfect, Hermio..." Ron's voice was a merry chiding, until it choked off in the middle of her name. His face had gone a paler shade, as had Harry's. The girl before them gave a frown.
"What?" It was nearly spit out. The last thing she needed was a lecture from Ron about being late. But the two boys weren't looking at her face, and Hermione followed their eyes downward to her own chest. Nestled in the fabric of her collar, sliding down beneath her vest was a tie, colored not in the Gryffindor fashion of red and gold, but in a much more sinister combination of green and silver.
Hermione went pink.
11.27.02: Lily focused, 75 words, G
He'd given up everything to see her again. The slow motion of her rocking back and forth, back and forth, lulled him into a deathly quiet. She was crying for him.
He'd given up everything to see her again. Her life to save him. His life to bring her back.
At that moment in time, it didn't seem too high a price to pay. Blackness followed on the heels of bliss. And still she cried.
11.24.02: R/D, 230 words, PG
Ron's face was pink, the color deepening by the moment, almost reaching the ruddy hue of his red hair. Loathing, that was the best word for the expression on the boy's face. Sheer loathing. Harry watched him intently, not quite knowing whether or not he should intervene.
"Nothing to say Weasley?" Draco Malfoy stood two inches from Ron, bearing down with a fierce sneer, wielding the expression on his face like a sharp weapon. If one of them felt the need to breathe, they?d be touching with the rising and falling of their chests. But neither did.
There was a silence, and it seemed for a moment that the Weasley boy was going to stand down. A group had begun to form around the two of them. Harry, playing nothing more than a spectator, could feel a collective anticipation from the group like a sharp intake of breath.
And then it happened, Ron flung himself onto Draco, toppling the blonde creature backwards onto the ground. The crowd, as a whole, took a step back as Ron?s fists made a thick sort of sound against Draco's chest. The paleness in Malfoy's cheeks melted into a flush, that didn't seem exactly the same sort of flush Ron had upon his furious cheeks. The red-head on top of him snarled, body mashed into his enemies', until Harry pulled him off, struggling immensely with the task. He drug Ron away, who was still swinging.
After a moment, a stillness had risen into the air. Harry and Ron sat in a heap, both breathless. Draco stayed lying on the ground, seemingly staring up at the sky, heaving air in and out of his lungs. The crowd dwindled, and still the three didn't move. Perhaps it was the impact of what just happened. The moment had them all trapped within themselves.
As the moment passed, Harry wondered if he was the only one who'd noticed that Draco hadn't fought back.