(no subject)
Yes. Am weird. Go me.
Because of this strange condition, I seem to be writing drabbles for tabellae. Most of these are based on speaks_no_evil and his ilk. Because I'm weird. Which is quite normal.
These are in no particular order, and am somehow missing the first drabble, which was Axian/Severus, so bah.
~~~
After she'd gone and done that, well, what was he supposed to do? They'd said not to run with scissors, but running with- and from- a broken heart was, it turned out, more dangerous.
And it wasn't Flint he blamed- could ever blame, in fact- but himself. He didn't know what he'd done but it was bad, whatever it was. So he'd moved from snogging Ix (who'd slapped him), to Anconia (who just looked pale and frightened whenever she was in the same room now), to Snape (who'd laughed when he said he wasn't gay), to- to bloody Malfoy (who expected, and got, more than snogging), to getting the Mark. The Mark! He'd never wanted- never dreamed it would come to that, but always known, somehow, that being Muggle-born was bad and everything was the Muggles' faults anyway.
And all it had caused him was pain, great waves of pain, whole worlds of pain left unexplored. He'd showed Meg when she'd asked, and she had only started crying. She'd stopped speaking to him then, seeing him with bitter eyes.
And the worst of it, he decided to himself, grinding his teeth against the pain, was the horrible clichedness of it.
~~~
Shrieking, the dragon fell from the sky. He could see the great flash of light as it landed on the Grindelwaldians' camp and burst into flame. It was suicide, to kill a dragon from below, but suicide as well to let it live.
He had been a fine beast as well; Newt had seen him as a hatchling, and now he remembered the dragon emerging from his egg with a squeal of hunger that few found endearing.
"Send another one out!" ordered the general, but Newt had had enough.
"Don't listen to him."
"Scamander, you may be keeping the dragons fed, but-"
"Stebbins, under no circumstances will you bring another one out. That was my Balthazar," he added, silently cursing Grindelwald's suicide hit wizards.
"He's the army's property now," said the general.
"He's nobody's property now," said Newt, "unless that battlefield is private property. And he's served his purpose. There's nobody left alive in that camp and you know it."
The general glared, muttered "Coward," under his breath, and bellowed at Stebbins for some coffee, but Newt stayed at the window.
"Coward I may be," he whispered, "but you're not the dragon."
It was the day he foreswore politics.
~~~
There is a door, one with the most powerful force in the universe behind it. And, Axian wonders, is it the most powerful force in the universe? Or does it, perhaps, have an equal force countering it, somewhere, somehow? It must, he decides, and besides, somebody's told him already that the doors are made of it.
There are rumors about that door, rumors that Rookwood swallowed a piece of it gnawing at the door, desperate for what was inside, and that was what turned him bad. Rookwood has been hauled away for repeating secrets to You-Know-Who, and the Department is hardly welcoming to his prot
Because of this strange condition, I seem to be writing drabbles for tabellae. Most of these are based on speaks_no_evil and his ilk. Because I'm weird. Which is quite normal.
These are in no particular order, and am somehow missing the first drabble, which was Axian/Severus, so bah.
~~~
After she'd gone and done that, well, what was he supposed to do? They'd said not to run with scissors, but running with- and from- a broken heart was, it turned out, more dangerous.
And it wasn't Flint he blamed- could ever blame, in fact- but himself. He didn't know what he'd done but it was bad, whatever it was. So he'd moved from snogging Ix (who'd slapped him), to Anconia (who just looked pale and frightened whenever she was in the same room now), to Snape (who'd laughed when he said he wasn't gay), to- to bloody Malfoy (who expected, and got, more than snogging), to getting the Mark. The Mark! He'd never wanted- never dreamed it would come to that, but always known, somehow, that being Muggle-born was bad and everything was the Muggles' faults anyway.
And all it had caused him was pain, great waves of pain, whole worlds of pain left unexplored. He'd showed Meg when she'd asked, and she had only started crying. She'd stopped speaking to him then, seeing him with bitter eyes.
And the worst of it, he decided to himself, grinding his teeth against the pain, was the horrible clichedness of it.
~~~
Shrieking, the dragon fell from the sky. He could see the great flash of light as it landed on the Grindelwaldians' camp and burst into flame. It was suicide, to kill a dragon from below, but suicide as well to let it live.
He had been a fine beast as well; Newt had seen him as a hatchling, and now he remembered the dragon emerging from his egg with a squeal of hunger that few found endearing.
"Send another one out!" ordered the general, but Newt had had enough.
"Don't listen to him."
"Scamander, you may be keeping the dragons fed, but-"
"Stebbins, under no circumstances will you bring another one out. That was my Balthazar," he added, silently cursing Grindelwald's suicide hit wizards.
"He's the army's property now," said the general.
"He's nobody's property now," said Newt, "unless that battlefield is private property. And he's served his purpose. There's nobody left alive in that camp and you know it."
The general glared, muttered "Coward," under his breath, and bellowed at Stebbins for some coffee, but Newt stayed at the window.
"Coward I may be," he whispered, "but you're not the dragon."
It was the day he foreswore politics.
~~~
There is a door, one with the most powerful force in the universe behind it. And, Axian wonders, is it the most powerful force in the universe? Or does it, perhaps, have an equal force countering it, somewhere, somehow? It must, he decides, and besides, somebody's told him already that the doors are made of it.
There are rumors about that door, rumors that Rookwood swallowed a piece of it gnawing at the door, desperate for what was inside, and that was what turned him bad. Rookwood has been hauled away for repeating secrets to You-Know-Who, and the Department is hardly welcoming to his prot