[hp drabbles] 100 words about...alternate universes
Alternate Universes
When James showed up on his doorstep that rainy March night, Sirius knew just what to do. He locked James in the bathroom and would not let him out until he’d warmed his freezing body up with a long, hot shower. After that, they sat on the carpet in in the living room, beside the fireplace, James in the velvet nightrobe he’d borrowed from Sirius, and drank.
Well, James drank. Sirius watched his friend.
James broke finally, around midnight, after his sixth pint.
“Thought we had it sorted,” he sobbed on Sirius’s shoulder. “Was so sure. Why’d she say no?”
When the fight in the Department of Mysteries was over, Remus approached the ancient archway. The tattered black veil rustled gentle in the non-existent wind. The black-shrouded man crumpled beside it moaned and lifted his head.
“Mother. Of. Merlin.”
“Shh,” said Remus, bending quickly and stopping Sirius from touching the back of his head, which was bleeding. “You hit those stones pretty hard. Don’t worry, though. Harry’s safe. Bellatrix got away, but the others were sent to Azkaban. You’re free. Easy, now. I’ll help you.”
He helped Sirius stand and, clinging tightly, they walked from the Chamber of Death together.
“/Next time there’s a ball, ask me before someone else does, and not as a last resort!/”
Ron stared at Hermione. Her face was livid, and she was trembling with fury. Coils of hair had finally escaped their clasp and sprung up around her head, making her look rather leonine.
Ron opened his mouth, but closed it over another retort. He strode forward instead, grasped her shoulders, pulled her close, and kissed her mouth.
“Next time, all right?” he whispered against her lips. “Are we sorted?”
For reply she kissed him back.
Neither noticed Harry, passed out on the floor.
When James showed up on his doorstep that rainy March night, Sirius knew just what to do. He locked James in the bathroom and would not let him out until he’d warmed his freezing body up with a long, hot shower. After that, they sat on the carpet in in the living room, beside the fireplace, James in the velvet nightrobe he’d borrowed from Sirius, and drank.
Well, James drank. Sirius watched his friend.
James broke finally, around midnight, after his sixth pint.
“Thought we had it sorted,” he sobbed on Sirius’s shoulder. “Was so sure. Why’d she say no?”
When the fight in the Department of Mysteries was over, Remus approached the ancient archway. The tattered black veil rustled gentle in the non-existent wind. The black-shrouded man crumpled beside it moaned and lifted his head.
“Mother. Of. Merlin.”
“Shh,” said Remus, bending quickly and stopping Sirius from touching the back of his head, which was bleeding. “You hit those stones pretty hard. Don’t worry, though. Harry’s safe. Bellatrix got away, but the others were sent to Azkaban. You’re free. Easy, now. I’ll help you.”
He helped Sirius stand and, clinging tightly, they walked from the Chamber of Death together.
“/Next time there’s a ball, ask me before someone else does, and not as a last resort!/”
Ron stared at Hermione. Her face was livid, and she was trembling with fury. Coils of hair had finally escaped their clasp and sprung up around her head, making her look rather leonine.
Ron opened his mouth, but closed it over another retort. He strode forward instead, grasped her shoulders, pulled her close, and kissed her mouth.
“Next time, all right?” he whispered against her lips. “Are we sorted?”
For reply she kissed him back.
Neither noticed Harry, passed out on the floor.