[hp fics] Queerditch Drabbles + a bonus
For April 17, 2005 the theme was nature
There is a yew grove on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest, and it here that Pansy brings Luna one moonlit night.
“The yew tree,” Pansy explains while Luna looks around wonderingly at the tall, dark trees, “was sacred to Hecate, a witch-goddess from Ancient Greece.”
She unpins her black hair and lets it spill down her back like a silken shroud.
Luna turns to her, ghostly pale in the shadows and moonlight.
“Yew leaves are also used to make certain poisons,” Pansy continues, undoing the brooch that holds her cloak closed, and letting the garment fall to the cold, needle-covered ground. She’s naked now, though her hair hangs gently over her breasts. She senses, rather than hears Luna’s sharp intake of breath.
“’Slips of yew,’” Pansy quotes, walking slowly toward Luna, “’silvered in the moon’s eclipse.’”
Luna’s eyes widen, and her heart begins to throb like a swollen thing about to burst. Other than that, she does not move as Pansy draws close to her, and runs her sharp cool nails along her throat.
_____
At the first clash of thunder, Harry starts to wail. Sirius scoops him out of his crib and carries him to the window.
“There now,” he soothes, cuddling the baby against his chest and rocking him gently. “Just a bit of rain, is all. It’ll be over soon, and your Mummy and Daddy will be back.”
Rain lashes the window. Outside, tree branches weave crazily and get tangled up in the churning bruise-colored clouds. Sirius doesn’t know where James and Lily are, but hopes they’re not actually out in this.
Harry continues to howl, and Sirius finds it faintly amusing that he and his single shred of paternal instinct should be stuck here watching the baby while James and Lily are out on some mission for the Order. Amusing, but not entirely unwelcome. Sirius loves Harry as much as he supposes he could ever love any child.
_____
“I know you,” the voice slithers through the wintry air. “You’re the beast my wife’s cousin is buggering.”
Remus looks over his shoulder and sees in the lamplight a tall black-cloaked figure with a pale, pinched face, and a cascade of white-blond hair. Remus knows who this is, knows as well that he ought to be frightened, but he is not. Loving Sirius and living with him has made Remus a bit reckless.
“Bugger off,” he says casually, knowing that Sirius would have come up with something more stinging.
He turns his back on Malfoy, knowing it’s a mistake. Malfoy’s spell hits him squarely between the shoulders and sends him face-first into the dirty snow. Cold and smarting, Remus rolls over and pushes himself up, laughing - actually laughing - at Malfoy, who scowls and tucks his still sparking wand back into his sleeve.
“Animal,” Malfoy spits. “When the reckoning comes, I will see you face-down in the dirt, and you will not be laughing.”
If he says anything more, Remus does not hear. His laughter is chiming like broken bells in his own ears, and his heart is shuddering painfully against his ribs. By the time he picks himself up and wipes his dirty hands on his robe, Malfoy has gone.
_____
Sirius sits cross-legged on the roof, smoking an herbal cigarette and watching the burnished sunlight slide across the distant crags and hills of Edinburgh. Remus is stretched out beside him, his head on Sirius’ knee, a book pages-down on his chest. Remus’ eyes are closed, and his chest rises and falls evenly, but Sirius detects a spark of wakefulness and is glad because sunsets ought to be shared, even with a person who’s mostly oblivious.
In the east, the sky is already a dusty rose, and the wind is picking up. Sirius leans over Remus, sheltering him as best he can. As his shadow falls over Remus, the fair lashes flutter and rise slowly revealing eyes that are amber-flecked in the dying light.
“M’not asleep,” Remus mumbles.
“I know,” Sirius says, sifting the light brown hair between his fingers.
Remus smiles, and Sirius is hit with the sudden mad thought that Remus is soaking up the last of the day’s light and warmth, and that they will stay in him long after the sun has set.
He drops his cigarette and curls over Remus, sliding both of his hands into the fine hair and feeling the warmth of his cheeks against his wrists.
“What’re you doing?”
“I don’t know,” Sirius lies, fairly certain that Remus will laugh at him if he tries to explain.
“All right,” Remus says faintly, and Sirius thinks that he will try to explain, after the sun has set completely, and it’s cold, and he will need the spark of Remus’ laughter to keep him alight.
_____
Written for mctabby's drabble challenge:
For _hannelore
Harry rarely needs her, anymore. If he wants to send THAT OTHER BOY a love letter, all he need do is slip it under his pillow.
Hedwig perches in the owlery, missing Harry’s fingers smoothing her feathers, missing the sound of his voice as he tells her what a good bird she is. The other owls ignore her.
The only one who pays her any attention is the cat, who watches licks her whiskers delicately, and regards her with lamp-like eyes in a manner most peculiar.
To be loved or consumed? Hedwig doesn’t know. It’s hard to tell with cats.
There is a yew grove on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest, and it here that Pansy brings Luna one moonlit night.
“The yew tree,” Pansy explains while Luna looks around wonderingly at the tall, dark trees, “was sacred to Hecate, a witch-goddess from Ancient Greece.”
She unpins her black hair and lets it spill down her back like a silken shroud.
Luna turns to her, ghostly pale in the shadows and moonlight.
“Yew leaves are also used to make certain poisons,” Pansy continues, undoing the brooch that holds her cloak closed, and letting the garment fall to the cold, needle-covered ground. She’s naked now, though her hair hangs gently over her breasts. She senses, rather than hears Luna’s sharp intake of breath.
“’Slips of yew,’” Pansy quotes, walking slowly toward Luna, “’silvered in the moon’s eclipse.’”
Luna’s eyes widen, and her heart begins to throb like a swollen thing about to burst. Other than that, she does not move as Pansy draws close to her, and runs her sharp cool nails along her throat.
_____
At the first clash of thunder, Harry starts to wail. Sirius scoops him out of his crib and carries him to the window.
“There now,” he soothes, cuddling the baby against his chest and rocking him gently. “Just a bit of rain, is all. It’ll be over soon, and your Mummy and Daddy will be back.”
Rain lashes the window. Outside, tree branches weave crazily and get tangled up in the churning bruise-colored clouds. Sirius doesn’t know where James and Lily are, but hopes they’re not actually out in this.
Harry continues to howl, and Sirius finds it faintly amusing that he and his single shred of paternal instinct should be stuck here watching the baby while James and Lily are out on some mission for the Order. Amusing, but not entirely unwelcome. Sirius loves Harry as much as he supposes he could ever love any child.
_____
“I know you,” the voice slithers through the wintry air. “You’re the beast my wife’s cousin is buggering.”
Remus looks over his shoulder and sees in the lamplight a tall black-cloaked figure with a pale, pinched face, and a cascade of white-blond hair. Remus knows who this is, knows as well that he ought to be frightened, but he is not. Loving Sirius and living with him has made Remus a bit reckless.
“Bugger off,” he says casually, knowing that Sirius would have come up with something more stinging.
He turns his back on Malfoy, knowing it’s a mistake. Malfoy’s spell hits him squarely between the shoulders and sends him face-first into the dirty snow. Cold and smarting, Remus rolls over and pushes himself up, laughing - actually laughing - at Malfoy, who scowls and tucks his still sparking wand back into his sleeve.
“Animal,” Malfoy spits. “When the reckoning comes, I will see you face-down in the dirt, and you will not be laughing.”
If he says anything more, Remus does not hear. His laughter is chiming like broken bells in his own ears, and his heart is shuddering painfully against his ribs. By the time he picks himself up and wipes his dirty hands on his robe, Malfoy has gone.
_____
Sirius sits cross-legged on the roof, smoking an herbal cigarette and watching the burnished sunlight slide across the distant crags and hills of Edinburgh. Remus is stretched out beside him, his head on Sirius’ knee, a book pages-down on his chest. Remus’ eyes are closed, and his chest rises and falls evenly, but Sirius detects a spark of wakefulness and is glad because sunsets ought to be shared, even with a person who’s mostly oblivious.
In the east, the sky is already a dusty rose, and the wind is picking up. Sirius leans over Remus, sheltering him as best he can. As his shadow falls over Remus, the fair lashes flutter and rise slowly revealing eyes that are amber-flecked in the dying light.
“M’not asleep,” Remus mumbles.
“I know,” Sirius says, sifting the light brown hair between his fingers.
Remus smiles, and Sirius is hit with the sudden mad thought that Remus is soaking up the last of the day’s light and warmth, and that they will stay in him long after the sun has set.
He drops his cigarette and curls over Remus, sliding both of his hands into the fine hair and feeling the warmth of his cheeks against his wrists.
“What’re you doing?”
“I don’t know,” Sirius lies, fairly certain that Remus will laugh at him if he tries to explain.
“All right,” Remus says faintly, and Sirius thinks that he will try to explain, after the sun has set completely, and it’s cold, and he will need the spark of Remus’ laughter to keep him alight.
_____
Written for mctabby's drabble challenge:
For _hannelore
Harry rarely needs her, anymore. If he wants to send THAT OTHER BOY a love letter, all he need do is slip it under his pillow.
Hedwig perches in the owlery, missing Harry’s fingers smoothing her feathers, missing the sound of his voice as he tells her what a good bird she is. The other owls ignore her.
The only one who pays her any attention is the cat, who watches licks her whiskers delicately, and regards her with lamp-like eyes in a manner most peculiar.
To be loved or consumed? Hedwig doesn’t know. It’s hard to tell with cats.