Voting Post: Most Creative Flash Fiction
Most Creative Flash Fiction (101-500 words)
Complete rules and procedures can be found on the main voting page. To summarize:
1. To submit your votes for this category, copy and paste the code below into a comment to this post (will be screened), or send it in an email to dramioneawards[at]gmail[dot]com. No anonymous comments allowed!
2. You must vote for your top THREE favorite fics, and rank them with your top favorite fic in the #1 position.
3. When casting your vote, please use the number assigned to the fic, rather than writing out the whole title.
CODE (5b):
5b - Most Creative Flash Fiction:
1. (TOP CHOICE)
2.
3.
Return to Main Page
Nominees:
-1-
Childhood Games, by luvscharlie
The Ministry had a poltergeist wreaking havoc in the Department of International Cooperation, and Hermione had been given orders to "take care of it."
In the Department of Magical Law Enforcement they usually worked in pairs. She normally worked with Susan Bones, but there had been that incident last week-which was entirely not her fault, though Susan didn't believe it-quite the nasty scandal actually. Rumours of sabotage and-oh, if she thought about it much more, she'd only get angry all over again.
She took a deep breath as the lift door opened, then attempted to stifle a giggle at the sight before her. Draco Malfoy, Department Head, was covered in-was that bubotuber puss? No, couldn't be. He wasn't screaming in agony. She was a bit taken aback by the sight before her. Draco had always seemed a bit scrawny growing up. Or at least that had been Hermione's opinion. But grow up, he clearly had… and well. His hair was in his eyes and his soaked shirt clung to the sharp lines of the muscles beneath.
"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" Hermione asked, taking her time as she leisurely looked him up and down. She received little more than a snarl in reply. "Someone's covered in-well what exactly is it that you're covered in? It's not bubotuber puss, though I think the boils might be an improvement to that face of yours," she lied.
"For your information, Granger," he spat, "it's water. The poltergiest apparently watched some Muggle sprogs throwing water balloons at people yesterday and decided that he liked them. I've been dodging the bloody things all morning."
She hid a smile behind her hand. "Looks like your dodging skills could use some work." About that time, a large balloon splattered against her back, drenching her. Okay, this was less funny now.
There was large cackle, then the singsong sound of, "Run, run, as fast as you can. Can't catch me, I'm the gingerbread man."
"The little beasts apparently taught him that as well. Oh, and that run part, he rather means it. Move," Draco said, grabbing her hand and diving into the nearest office, as water balloons exploded all around them, thrown in rapid-fire succession. They huddled under a desk, where there was just room for the two of them to squeeze in together.
"That was pretty quick thinking on your part, Malfoy," she said, admittedly impressed that he hadn't left her to fend for herself against the poltergeist.
"Yes, well, I've had plenty of practice this morning."
"Come out, come out, wherever you are," sounded the voice of the poltergeist from somewhere above their hiding spot.
"I think he believes we're playing hide-n-seek with him," Hermione whispered. "How long did he spend with those Muggle children?"
Several water balloons smacked them in the face in an explosion of water. "Tag! You're it!" shouted the poltergeist.
"Entirely too long," Draco said.
"So it would appear," she agreed.
Fin.
-2-
Cosy and Cold, by spadul
The warm air of the library soothes the iciness atop her cheeks as she enters through the main doors. Inhaling deep the scent of old bindings and spilled ink, she smiles in acknowledgement to the librarian and rubs her hands together to create static friction. She steers herself in the direction of her favorite reading spot; the small hovel of space crammed with a glossy wooden table and a deep-seated armchair.
Turning around a corner she’s jostled by the shoulder of another, her tattered copy of Hogwarts: A History slipping out of her grasp. It lands by her feet, still covered in miniscule bits of snow, and by the feet of another. She sees the shoes and she instantly knows who it is, for she’s spent many a stray lesson watching those very shoes dance to the rhythm and tango of a boredom-inspired dance.
She’s busy looking at his feet when a bowed head along with an outstretched arm are added to the equation. She follows his hands as they delicately cradle her book, extending it out to her.
“Granger,” he drawls dully.
She accepts the book with a curt, “Malfoy,” and disappears past him and settles into the still-warm armchair and stares at his back as it retreats around the corner.
She’s lost in her own dreamy reprise with her books unopened in her lap when his voice breaks through her trance.
“Granger, have you spotted my gloves?”
She nonchalantly gazes about her surroundings, but her face betrays her. “Can’t say that I have, Malfoy,” she lies as color spills across the apple of her cheeks.
He raises an eyebrow at her. “You’re positive?”
“Quite sure, really,” she assures. He sighs noisily and narrows his eyes.
He’s out of sight when she pulls the two leather gloves out from underneath her tomes. She holds the impossibly soft garments to her nose and relishes in the sweet aroma of spice and toffee that solely belongs to Draco Malfoy.
-3-
From the Bookshelf, by dynonugget
'Hogwarts: A History' exhaled contentedly as he was placed upon a bookshelf once more. He was quite pleased to be out of that trunk, though even that had been better than some bag he'd been jostled about in for nearly a year.
He watched as his owner, Hermione Granger, unpacked a few other books. Hoping 'Ancient Runes' would be next to him (they always had the best discussions) and the book from Care of Magical Creatures that snarled would be on a different shelf entirely (you wouldn't like being growled at without cause, either), he noticed a gentle smile on her face.
She certainly had cause since the one year anniversary of the war was tomorrow. He suspected, though, that her pleasant mood had something to do with her new flat, one with her very own library. It was small, but had plenty of room for more friends to join him.
Tucking a stray curl behind her ear, Hermione ran her finger along his spine. He knew that he was her favorite; though 'Arithmancy - A Guide to Numerology' was a close second. But he was all the way on the bottom shelf, so-
There was the Floo again. That young man with the blond hair had been coming over quite frequently, and though many of the books had been initially skeptical, their impressions had been altered at their owners reception of him.
Hermione's smile lit up the entire room when he was there. 'Hogwarts' watched as they shared a soft kiss before the wizard she called 'Malfoy' magicked a box towards the kitchen, insisting he could figure out where the silverware went. He mumbled something or other when she laughed and walked away, and the rest of the day was spent unpacking all of the other boxes.
Most of the books had nearly fallen asleep when the 'Anthology of Eighteenth Century Charms' said, “I knew it,” causing 'Hogwarts' to jerk awake. In the middle of the library, Hermione and 'Draco', as she called him now, sat on the floor with a lunch of sandwiches and pumpkin juice.
“You knew they would have lunch?” 'Runes' said sarcastically.
“No, just watch,” 'Charms' replied.
Draco pulled out a small box and handed it to Hermione. She gasped, cried, shouted “Yes!” and threw her arms around him, all inside a minute.
“How did you know?” 'Arithmancy' called out from his bottom shelf.
“Haven't you been paying an attention?” 'Charms' snickered.
Draco dried Hermione's happy tears and shared a kiss that brought 'Hogwarts' to tears.
“ I'm telling you,” 'Charms' added, “we'll have another set of books next to us in a matter of months, if not weeks.”
The next morning, none of them were surprised to see Draco walk into the library, though 'Transfiguration' would have preferred a robe rather than those silky boxers.
Hermione was behind him a moment later, arms around his waist. And the books knew 'Charms' had been quite right when their owner said, “Draco, welcome home.”
-4-
Surviving, by ilkee
So this was you. Seventeen. Fresh. Invincible. Still smiling ten years later in a faded photograph with a bent corner.
You run your finger over your eager face and wonder if you’ll ever be ready to live again.
This little box of photographs was the only thing Malfoy insisted on rescuing from the Manor before it became a pile of broken walls and ash. You can’t help wondering what you’re doing in this stack and how long you’ve been there.
There are fires everywhere and the roar in your ears is constant. Survival now is hiding in sheds and abandoned muggle houses until they are burned to the ground like everything else. If you are lucky, you find a muggle town that’s already been hit.
Now it’s you, Malfoy, and someone else’s child. He has two bottom teeth and doesn’t speak, and most of the time you don’t either.
You think that because you’re the woman, you should hold the child, but you can tell it’s important to Malfoy that he does. The little boy is comfortable with him. They’re both quiet and serious, like they’re always concentrating. The baby feels safe with Malfoy, and you’re not surprised because you do too.
Somehow, you three have become a makeshift family and you try not to think about that. You try not to want it. But you know that everyday that this war continues cements your fantasy a little more.
For now, you survive. You make sure the baby is warm and you feed him. Sometimes you feed yourselves. Malfoy tries to pretend he’s split the rations down the middle, but you know he always gives you more. And you don’t say anything, because you know he needs to make that sacrifice. And because you do the same when it’s your turn.
In the dark places where you huddle on conjured blankets, you catch Malfoy staring at the sleeping baby between you, and you wonder if he imagines that the boy is his. You wonder if he imagines that the boy is yours and his.
----
The first thing you notice when you wake up is your hand, warm, between the baby and Malfoy’s palm. The second thing you notice is the silence. It’s the first silence in many months and it pulls you fully out of sleep, and onto your feet and to the door.
In the weak light of dawn, small explosions are quietly bursting in your chest as you begin to realize it’s over.
And you walk out onto the soft charred dirt, where the air is cold and damp on your face, and you can still smell the smoke, sour and stale and woven into everything.
Your eyes are wet and your breath is stuck in your throat. But then Malfoy is standing next to you, with the baby still sleeping on his chest and he laces his long, warm fingers with yours and squeezes.
And you think, yes, you’re ready now. ”
-5-
Tea for Two, by sarahyyy
If Weasley wasn't going to wipe that sadistic smile off his face in the next three seconds, Draco was very well going to do it himself. His fingers were practically twitching with restraint from taking his wand out.
One…
He could practically hear that smile taunting him to punch Weasley.
Two…
How many punches would it take for Weasley to fall? Or was it easier to just stupefy him? Or better yet, Draco was in the mood for an Avada. Oh yes…
Three…
"Would you like some tea, Malfoy?" If Weasley were anymore cheerful, his face would be covered with colourful icing.
"No! I don't want any goddamn tea! Now let me in my bloody room!"
"Hermione doesn't want to see you." Again with his stupid smile.
"So she sent you to guard my room from me?"
A nod. A cheerful "come-what-may" smile. "She said that I can let you in when you've learnt how to treat her friends, that is Harry and I, with courtesy." That stupid smile even wider now.
Draco gaped.
"I do believe, Draco, that you're lovelier this morning than you have ever been," the annoying Weasel said. Draco said nothing. "Now is your cue to thank me politely, Malfoy."
"Why, thank you very much, Ronald, though I still think that you look and smell like a skunk on drugs."
Undaunted, Weasley pulled out a list from his pocket.
"Insulting me takes off 20 points, Malfoy. Once you've had 100 points deducted, I can hex you once. Hermione said so."
What the…"So what, exactly, do I have to do to get back into my room?"
"Call me by my first name, which you have already done; compliment me sincerely; tell me that you're really grateful that Hermione has a friend like me; apologize for acting like a good-for-nothing Slytherin; smile, not smirk; and oh, tell Harry that he's a fantastic seeker." Cue Weasley's stupid smile. Again.
Draco really had no patience for his stupid antics. "Stupefy!"
Weasley fell onto the ground, stiff as a board.
Draco smirked in triumph. "Now, Weasley, would you like some tea?"
-6-
The Duel, by amethyst18
Draco’s slate colored eyes narrowed as he glared at Hermione’s laughing brown ones.
“Just surrender now, Draco. There’s no way you can win,” she taunted, her lips curling into a smirk.
“You underestimate me. I am a Malfoy, and I always get my way."
She laughed. “Just give up and admit defeat!"
“Never!”
With as much strength as he could muster, he twisted and turned, determined to reach the problematic green circle.
And just when he thought his balance would betray him…success!
“Ha!” he yelled in triumph, his chest rumbling with celebratory laughter.
“Your turn, love.” He challenged, “Right foot…Yellow!”
Return to Main Page
Complete rules and procedures can be found on the main voting page. To summarize:
1. To submit your votes for this category, copy and paste the code below into a comment to this post (will be screened), or send it in an email to dramioneawards[at]gmail[dot]com. No anonymous comments allowed!
2. You must vote for your top THREE favorite fics, and rank them with your top favorite fic in the #1 position.
3. When casting your vote, please use the number assigned to the fic, rather than writing out the whole title.
CODE (5b):
5b - Most Creative Flash Fiction:
1. (TOP CHOICE)
2.
3.
Return to Main Page
Nominees:
-1-
Childhood Games, by luvscharlie
The Ministry had a poltergeist wreaking havoc in the Department of International Cooperation, and Hermione had been given orders to "take care of it."
In the Department of Magical Law Enforcement they usually worked in pairs. She normally worked with Susan Bones, but there had been that incident last week-which was entirely not her fault, though Susan didn't believe it-quite the nasty scandal actually. Rumours of sabotage and-oh, if she thought about it much more, she'd only get angry all over again.
She took a deep breath as the lift door opened, then attempted to stifle a giggle at the sight before her. Draco Malfoy, Department Head, was covered in-was that bubotuber puss? No, couldn't be. He wasn't screaming in agony. She was a bit taken aback by the sight before her. Draco had always seemed a bit scrawny growing up. Or at least that had been Hermione's opinion. But grow up, he clearly had… and well. His hair was in his eyes and his soaked shirt clung to the sharp lines of the muscles beneath.
"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" Hermione asked, taking her time as she leisurely looked him up and down. She received little more than a snarl in reply. "Someone's covered in-well what exactly is it that you're covered in? It's not bubotuber puss, though I think the boils might be an improvement to that face of yours," she lied.
"For your information, Granger," he spat, "it's water. The poltergiest apparently watched some Muggle sprogs throwing water balloons at people yesterday and decided that he liked them. I've been dodging the bloody things all morning."
She hid a smile behind her hand. "Looks like your dodging skills could use some work." About that time, a large balloon splattered against her back, drenching her. Okay, this was less funny now.
There was large cackle, then the singsong sound of, "Run, run, as fast as you can. Can't catch me, I'm the gingerbread man."
"The little beasts apparently taught him that as well. Oh, and that run part, he rather means it. Move," Draco said, grabbing her hand and diving into the nearest office, as water balloons exploded all around them, thrown in rapid-fire succession. They huddled under a desk, where there was just room for the two of them to squeeze in together.
"That was pretty quick thinking on your part, Malfoy," she said, admittedly impressed that he hadn't left her to fend for herself against the poltergeist.
"Yes, well, I've had plenty of practice this morning."
"Come out, come out, wherever you are," sounded the voice of the poltergeist from somewhere above their hiding spot.
"I think he believes we're playing hide-n-seek with him," Hermione whispered. "How long did he spend with those Muggle children?"
Several water balloons smacked them in the face in an explosion of water. "Tag! You're it!" shouted the poltergeist.
"Entirely too long," Draco said.
"So it would appear," she agreed.
Fin.
-2-
Cosy and Cold, by spadul
The warm air of the library soothes the iciness atop her cheeks as she enters through the main doors. Inhaling deep the scent of old bindings and spilled ink, she smiles in acknowledgement to the librarian and rubs her hands together to create static friction. She steers herself in the direction of her favorite reading spot; the small hovel of space crammed with a glossy wooden table and a deep-seated armchair.
Turning around a corner she’s jostled by the shoulder of another, her tattered copy of Hogwarts: A History slipping out of her grasp. It lands by her feet, still covered in miniscule bits of snow, and by the feet of another. She sees the shoes and she instantly knows who it is, for she’s spent many a stray lesson watching those very shoes dance to the rhythm and tango of a boredom-inspired dance.
She’s busy looking at his feet when a bowed head along with an outstretched arm are added to the equation. She follows his hands as they delicately cradle her book, extending it out to her.
“Granger,” he drawls dully.
She accepts the book with a curt, “Malfoy,” and disappears past him and settles into the still-warm armchair and stares at his back as it retreats around the corner.
She’s lost in her own dreamy reprise with her books unopened in her lap when his voice breaks through her trance.
“Granger, have you spotted my gloves?”
She nonchalantly gazes about her surroundings, but her face betrays her. “Can’t say that I have, Malfoy,” she lies as color spills across the apple of her cheeks.
He raises an eyebrow at her. “You’re positive?”
“Quite sure, really,” she assures. He sighs noisily and narrows his eyes.
He’s out of sight when she pulls the two leather gloves out from underneath her tomes. She holds the impossibly soft garments to her nose and relishes in the sweet aroma of spice and toffee that solely belongs to Draco Malfoy.
-3-
From the Bookshelf, by dynonugget
'Hogwarts: A History' exhaled contentedly as he was placed upon a bookshelf once more. He was quite pleased to be out of that trunk, though even that had been better than some bag he'd been jostled about in for nearly a year.
He watched as his owner, Hermione Granger, unpacked a few other books. Hoping 'Ancient Runes' would be next to him (they always had the best discussions) and the book from Care of Magical Creatures that snarled would be on a different shelf entirely (you wouldn't like being growled at without cause, either), he noticed a gentle smile on her face.
She certainly had cause since the one year anniversary of the war was tomorrow. He suspected, though, that her pleasant mood had something to do with her new flat, one with her very own library. It was small, but had plenty of room for more friends to join him.
Tucking a stray curl behind her ear, Hermione ran her finger along his spine. He knew that he was her favorite; though 'Arithmancy - A Guide to Numerology' was a close second. But he was all the way on the bottom shelf, so-
There was the Floo again. That young man with the blond hair had been coming over quite frequently, and though many of the books had been initially skeptical, their impressions had been altered at their owners reception of him.
Hermione's smile lit up the entire room when he was there. 'Hogwarts' watched as they shared a soft kiss before the wizard she called 'Malfoy' magicked a box towards the kitchen, insisting he could figure out where the silverware went. He mumbled something or other when she laughed and walked away, and the rest of the day was spent unpacking all of the other boxes.
Most of the books had nearly fallen asleep when the 'Anthology of Eighteenth Century Charms' said, “I knew it,” causing 'Hogwarts' to jerk awake. In the middle of the library, Hermione and 'Draco', as she called him now, sat on the floor with a lunch of sandwiches and pumpkin juice.
“You knew they would have lunch?” 'Runes' said sarcastically.
“No, just watch,” 'Charms' replied.
Draco pulled out a small box and handed it to Hermione. She gasped, cried, shouted “Yes!” and threw her arms around him, all inside a minute.
“How did you know?” 'Arithmancy' called out from his bottom shelf.
“Haven't you been paying an attention?” 'Charms' snickered.
Draco dried Hermione's happy tears and shared a kiss that brought 'Hogwarts' to tears.
“ I'm telling you,” 'Charms' added, “we'll have another set of books next to us in a matter of months, if not weeks.”
The next morning, none of them were surprised to see Draco walk into the library, though 'Transfiguration' would have preferred a robe rather than those silky boxers.
Hermione was behind him a moment later, arms around his waist. And the books knew 'Charms' had been quite right when their owner said, “Draco, welcome home.”
-4-
Surviving, by ilkee
So this was you. Seventeen. Fresh. Invincible. Still smiling ten years later in a faded photograph with a bent corner.
You run your finger over your eager face and wonder if you’ll ever be ready to live again.
This little box of photographs was the only thing Malfoy insisted on rescuing from the Manor before it became a pile of broken walls and ash. You can’t help wondering what you’re doing in this stack and how long you’ve been there.
There are fires everywhere and the roar in your ears is constant. Survival now is hiding in sheds and abandoned muggle houses until they are burned to the ground like everything else. If you are lucky, you find a muggle town that’s already been hit.
Now it’s you, Malfoy, and someone else’s child. He has two bottom teeth and doesn’t speak, and most of the time you don’t either.
You think that because you’re the woman, you should hold the child, but you can tell it’s important to Malfoy that he does. The little boy is comfortable with him. They’re both quiet and serious, like they’re always concentrating. The baby feels safe with Malfoy, and you’re not surprised because you do too.
Somehow, you three have become a makeshift family and you try not to think about that. You try not to want it. But you know that everyday that this war continues cements your fantasy a little more.
For now, you survive. You make sure the baby is warm and you feed him. Sometimes you feed yourselves. Malfoy tries to pretend he’s split the rations down the middle, but you know he always gives you more. And you don’t say anything, because you know he needs to make that sacrifice. And because you do the same when it’s your turn.
In the dark places where you huddle on conjured blankets, you catch Malfoy staring at the sleeping baby between you, and you wonder if he imagines that the boy is his. You wonder if he imagines that the boy is yours and his.
----
The first thing you notice when you wake up is your hand, warm, between the baby and Malfoy’s palm. The second thing you notice is the silence. It’s the first silence in many months and it pulls you fully out of sleep, and onto your feet and to the door.
In the weak light of dawn, small explosions are quietly bursting in your chest as you begin to realize it’s over.
And you walk out onto the soft charred dirt, where the air is cold and damp on your face, and you can still smell the smoke, sour and stale and woven into everything.
Your eyes are wet and your breath is stuck in your throat. But then Malfoy is standing next to you, with the baby still sleeping on his chest and he laces his long, warm fingers with yours and squeezes.
And you think, yes, you’re ready now. ”
-5-
Tea for Two, by sarahyyy
If Weasley wasn't going to wipe that sadistic smile off his face in the next three seconds, Draco was very well going to do it himself. His fingers were practically twitching with restraint from taking his wand out.
One…
He could practically hear that smile taunting him to punch Weasley.
Two…
How many punches would it take for Weasley to fall? Or was it easier to just stupefy him? Or better yet, Draco was in the mood for an Avada. Oh yes…
Three…
"Would you like some tea, Malfoy?" If Weasley were anymore cheerful, his face would be covered with colourful icing.
"No! I don't want any goddamn tea! Now let me in my bloody room!"
"Hermione doesn't want to see you." Again with his stupid smile.
"So she sent you to guard my room from me?"
A nod. A cheerful "come-what-may" smile. "She said that I can let you in when you've learnt how to treat her friends, that is Harry and I, with courtesy." That stupid smile even wider now.
Draco gaped.
"I do believe, Draco, that you're lovelier this morning than you have ever been," the annoying Weasel said. Draco said nothing. "Now is your cue to thank me politely, Malfoy."
"Why, thank you very much, Ronald, though I still think that you look and smell like a skunk on drugs."
Undaunted, Weasley pulled out a list from his pocket.
"Insulting me takes off 20 points, Malfoy. Once you've had 100 points deducted, I can hex you once. Hermione said so."
What the…"So what, exactly, do I have to do to get back into my room?"
"Call me by my first name, which you have already done; compliment me sincerely; tell me that you're really grateful that Hermione has a friend like me; apologize for acting like a good-for-nothing Slytherin; smile, not smirk; and oh, tell Harry that he's a fantastic seeker." Cue Weasley's stupid smile. Again.
Draco really had no patience for his stupid antics. "Stupefy!"
Weasley fell onto the ground, stiff as a board.
Draco smirked in triumph. "Now, Weasley, would you like some tea?"
-6-
The Duel, by amethyst18
Draco’s slate colored eyes narrowed as he glared at Hermione’s laughing brown ones.
“Just surrender now, Draco. There’s no way you can win,” she taunted, her lips curling into a smirk.
“You underestimate me. I am a Malfoy, and I always get my way."
She laughed. “Just give up and admit defeat!"
“Never!”
With as much strength as he could muster, he twisted and turned, determined to reach the problematic green circle.
And just when he thought his balance would betray him…success!
“Ha!” he yelled in triumph, his chest rumbling with celebratory laughter.
“Your turn, love.” He challenged, “Right foot…Yellow!”
Return to Main Page