Drabbles For May: 31 Awkward Situations
Title: 31 Awkward Situations
Author: stupidmuse_hatesme
Prompt: 31 drabbles for the month of May. Any fandom allowed, one chapter per day (no posting ahead!), gayness required :) 100-1000 words per drabble.
Drabble #1: Close Call
Summary: Harry has no idea how he always gets himself into these sorts of things...
Warnings: Absolutely none. Well, yeah. maybe cursing. And possibly sexual type activities. Who knows :D
Rating: For now? PG-13 for cursing.
Length: 598
AUTHORS NOTE: This was a challenge by my good friend Airknitter on FFNET and so far she's keeping to the chapter a day better than I am...But since It's doing all right I decided to post it here. Enjoy!
It's 3 o'clock in the morning and Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, suddenly has absolutely no idea where he is.
He draws his invisibility cloak closer to him, shivering, and checks to make sure that his shoes are not showing. There isn't a lit torch on the wall for eons, so he hurries forward to the nearest dim glow. He's in the dungeons. And Harry realizes that it's probably a very bad sign that he doesn't recognize this particular section.
Patting down his pockets he curses under his breath when he doesn't feel the tell-tale lump of the Marauders map. Can he really be that stupid?
"Why the hell did I leave that back in the tower?"
He leans against the stone wall before he can think better of he, he dreads to see the slime he's sure to have smeared all over his cloak in the morning, and slides to the floor miserably. Water drips and echoes through the corridors and the lonesome torch on the opposite wall sputters and flickers.
"Oh quiet, you."
Knees pulled up to his chest he pulls his arms out of his cloak's sleeves and to his body to wrap himself in them and shiver miserably.
"Harry Potter," He mutters. "Lost in the dungeon. Poor lad. We didn't find him for weeks! What a terrible way to die..."
Several minutes later the echoing emptiness of the dungeon has grown on him, so it takes him a moment to discern the difference between the rhythmic patter patters of dripping water and distant footsteps.
He tenses.
The steps are loud. They collide with the stone like miniature claps of thunder. And they are accompanied by irate mutterings.
"I'll show them...pranks...me....my quarters...sanctuary"
Harry's eye open wide when the voice clicks in his memory. Professor Snape!
He looks to his left, and then his right, and stifles a groan when he spots the portrait frame just above and beyond his right shoulder. "I'm doomed." He announces softly. "I've tripped his personal wards!"
"What are you doing?" Snape call out as he rounds the corner.
Then he stops, staring at the empty corridor.
"I could have sworn I could feel someone pressing against my rooms..." He mutters.
Harry does not allow himself to sigh in relief. He cannot allow himself to sigh in relief. He will not sigh in relief. But he does slide on his butt to his left, away from both the portrait and Professor Snape, until the wall drops back into an alcove. He wriggles into it and holds his breath, concentrating only on hiding his trainers and not making a single sound. He hopes he's moved far enough that he's not against Snape's wards any longer, and that Snape doesn't think to look for Harry in his cloak nearby.
Snape stands and seems to...concentrate. "The wards are fine. No one is there." He looks down the corridor and then behind him. "I passed no one, so it could not have been one of my snakes knocking, could it have?"
He strides towards Harry and then continues on. "Foolish students! Everyone knows that this area is dangerous and off limits....when I get a hold of them...." His voices fades off before his thunderous footsteps do and still Harry does not sigh. But he does relax each and every tense muscle in his body one by one.
"Good going, Potter. Good going."
Now that he knows which way is the way out, he scampers to it, his rubber soles squeaking, and hurriedly leaves the lower levels of Hogwarts.
Phew!
Author: stupidmuse_hatesme
Prompt: 31 drabbles for the month of May. Any fandom allowed, one chapter per day (no posting ahead!), gayness required :) 100-1000 words per drabble.
Drabble #1: Close Call
Summary: Harry has no idea how he always gets himself into these sorts of things...
Warnings: Absolutely none. Well, yeah. maybe cursing. And possibly sexual type activities. Who knows :D
Rating: For now? PG-13 for cursing.
Length: 598
AUTHORS NOTE: This was a challenge by my good friend Airknitter on FFNET and so far she's keeping to the chapter a day better than I am...But since It's doing all right I decided to post it here. Enjoy!
It's 3 o'clock in the morning and Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, suddenly has absolutely no idea where he is.
He draws his invisibility cloak closer to him, shivering, and checks to make sure that his shoes are not showing. There isn't a lit torch on the wall for eons, so he hurries forward to the nearest dim glow. He's in the dungeons. And Harry realizes that it's probably a very bad sign that he doesn't recognize this particular section.
Patting down his pockets he curses under his breath when he doesn't feel the tell-tale lump of the Marauders map. Can he really be that stupid?
"Why the hell did I leave that back in the tower?"
He leans against the stone wall before he can think better of he, he dreads to see the slime he's sure to have smeared all over his cloak in the morning, and slides to the floor miserably. Water drips and echoes through the corridors and the lonesome torch on the opposite wall sputters and flickers.
"Oh quiet, you."
Knees pulled up to his chest he pulls his arms out of his cloak's sleeves and to his body to wrap himself in them and shiver miserably.
"Harry Potter," He mutters. "Lost in the dungeon. Poor lad. We didn't find him for weeks! What a terrible way to die..."
Several minutes later the echoing emptiness of the dungeon has grown on him, so it takes him a moment to discern the difference between the rhythmic patter patters of dripping water and distant footsteps.
He tenses.
The steps are loud. They collide with the stone like miniature claps of thunder. And they are accompanied by irate mutterings.
"I'll show them...pranks...me....my quarters...sanctuary"
Harry's eye open wide when the voice clicks in his memory. Professor Snape!
He looks to his left, and then his right, and stifles a groan when he spots the portrait frame just above and beyond his right shoulder. "I'm doomed." He announces softly. "I've tripped his personal wards!"
"What are you doing?" Snape call out as he rounds the corner.
Then he stops, staring at the empty corridor.
"I could have sworn I could feel someone pressing against my rooms..." He mutters.
Harry does not allow himself to sigh in relief. He cannot allow himself to sigh in relief. He will not sigh in relief. But he does slide on his butt to his left, away from both the portrait and Professor Snape, until the wall drops back into an alcove. He wriggles into it and holds his breath, concentrating only on hiding his trainers and not making a single sound. He hopes he's moved far enough that he's not against Snape's wards any longer, and that Snape doesn't think to look for Harry in his cloak nearby.
Snape stands and seems to...concentrate. "The wards are fine. No one is there." He looks down the corridor and then behind him. "I passed no one, so it could not have been one of my snakes knocking, could it have?"
He strides towards Harry and then continues on. "Foolish students! Everyone knows that this area is dangerous and off limits....when I get a hold of them...." His voices fades off before his thunderous footsteps do and still Harry does not sigh. But he does relax each and every tense muscle in his body one by one.
"Good going, Potter. Good going."
Now that he knows which way is the way out, he scampers to it, his rubber soles squeaking, and hurriedly leaves the lower levels of Hogwarts.
Phew!