Dramione stuff.
Okiedokie, I have, after several long weeks, finally been booted off dramione_ldws . It's disappointing, of course, but I got much further than i expected, and I'm pretty proud of my losing drabble. I post it on here right now, and I'd better post them all on dramione anddramionedrabble afterwards. It's all about getting noticed, really. I feel there's something about my writing style that, while i quite like, other people don't seem to agree with. I'd like to know who my main critics are so I can get some advice from them.
Anyway, here it be:
Title: The Luck of the Irish
Rating: PG
Warnings: Kissing, wagering... :P
Words: 492
The field is deathly quiet as the all-important player raises his fist in the air. The tiny golden wings of the snitch are just visible beneath the player’s fingers. A magically amplified whistle sounds and the winning team is announced.
The sound of thousands upon thousands of ecstatic fans cheering in victory assaults your ears. Their screams are deafening. You’re sure that you won’t be able to hear again after today.
And yet, the sound is nothing compared to the roar of victory inside your own head. The joy that is shared among the masses is absolutely nothing compared to the joy that you experience as you realise what this means.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Draco,” Hermione said, shakily tracing the rim of her coffee cup. “I don’t know if I can do this.”
“Of course you can,” Draco encouraged her, reaching out to take her hand. “It’s perfectly simple. I love you. You love me. We should be together.”
“That’s just it though.” Hermione slid her hand away from his, nervously avoiding his gaze. “I don’t know if I do love you.”
You could have knocked Draco over with a feather. He stared at her, unable to believe what he’d just heard. He’d been so sure. “You… you don’t know?”
Hermione shook her head. “I’m sorry, Draco.”
“So… so what do we do?” Draco asked. Was there any point in him asking that? If Hermione wasn’t sure if she loved him, was there any hope for him at all?
Hermione’s wandering gaze hit the window. Looking out, she noticed a group of young lads, dressed head to toe in green, marching down the street and hollering “Ireland! Ireland! Ireland!” This gave her an idea.
“Why don’t we let the game decide?”
“What?” Draco followed her gaze out the window. “The Quidditch final?”
Hermione nodded. “If Ireland wins, I love you. If Wales wins, I don’t.”
Draco’s jaw dropped in disbelief. “Are you telling me that I’m betting your love for me… on the Irish?”
Hermione shrugged. “Better them than the Welsh.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Wading your way through the sea of green, you barely notice the seven Irish players flying around the pitch, waving at the ecstatic crowds. You also couldn’t give a toss. You’re thinking only one thing: Where is she?
Suddenly you see a gap amongst the sea of green, and there she is, her head anxiously bobbing up and down as she tries to find you. She sees you and her face lights up. Her smile is wide, and her eyes are soft with relief. She’s just as happy about the outcome as you are.
You’re hardly aware of you reaching her, but you do. You embrace each other, your hands knotting themselves in her ridiculous hair, her heart beating wildly against your chest. You kiss, and you know now how it feels to be truly victorious.
You break apart, and she smiles shyly at you.
“The luck of the Irish,” she says.
Speaking of dramionedrabble somebody's nominated one of my drabbles there for an award. Unfortunately I haven't gotten a single vote yet. So, you know, go and put me out of my misery... i don't want to be a unanimous loser xdxd.
comments are always <3