Smile and maybe tomorrow
lazysundaydrabs is a Harry Potter drabble community that posts on Sundays only. We hope to provide a capstone to your weekend by serving up a dish of fluffy, humorous, and just generally feel good drabbles that are centered around the Harry Potter fandom.
Today's Prompts:
★ Giggle
★ Nat King Cole’s Smile (lyrics here)
★ “Nothing to me feels as good as laughing incredibly hard.” ~ Steve Carell
Next Week's Prompts: (use one, some, or all!)
★ Slytherins
★ Big & Rich’s Save a Horse (Rise a Cowboy) (lyrics here)
★ “The greatest pleasure in life is doing what people say you cannot do.” ~ Walter Bagehot
Angelina Johnson, George Weasley (G) by loonynamelass
Bill Weasley, Ginny Weasley (G) by pyrobear
Angelina Johnson, George Weasley (G) by loonynamelass
Word Count: 500
George glanced warily at the clear shotglasses assembled in the flat he shared… used to share. Fred was the drinker- though he’d shared and allowed the secret. After all, the main perk of moving out was indulgence.
Not a drop was missing from this bottle of Firewhiskey, having been designated for peacetime. Well, war’s over. What now?
“We toast,” Fred answered, or was it George? Impossible to tell.
Obediently, George poured, grasped it in shaking fingers, thanked Merlin he was of age, and-
It slipped and shattered. Reparo, all is mended- though the red liquid spread unhindered, seeking to stain. Returning the bottle to the cupboard with a bang only brought more memories, painful, Fred-ful…
“Blimey, Forge, what the hell is this?” Fred punched his shoulder playfully. “What you beating yourself up for?”
“Stop,” George cried, grabbing the fist that accosted him. It took a split second to realize he struggled against himself, and both fell limp. The self-arm wrestling was so ridiculous that instead of crying as his face screwed up to, he burst into laughter, and kept at it. “Beating myself up”- an irresistible pun- and it felt too good to laugh, the evening after Fred’s demise.
~?~
After the war’s end, the store was first to reopen in Diagon Alley. Children flocked to the store for the famous founder’s speech, while shyer teenagers milled about in the back, and his family’s support stood in front.
Plopping down onto the spinning chair, he leaped up with an unrehearsed shriek and curse. The tension popped, giggles bursting from every corner of audience.
George lifted the pin with a piqued air before it soundlessly vanished. The audience ahhed this display, and he took it in stride, as though it’d been a pre-orchestrated performance. His eyes caught a darkly dressed adult, dark fingers deftly twisting the offending ornament.
“S’pose I’ll stand,” he remarked good-naturedly to general amusement, rubbing his sore bum. Some started practicing his swear.
“Don’t tell your parents,” he added conspiratorially, “though I’d have liked to see more of them. Grown-ups oughta laugh, too. They think they’re above it, but laughter is above war, too…
“So what’s their excuse? Perhaps they think the jokes have died, or lost half o’ their soul. George Weasley, the twin with no twin. Joke without a punchline…
“But thing is- with every peal rolling off a tongue, Fred Weasley’s there. With every appreciation of irony, he approves. So why grieve? Just bring him back; bring them all back!
“Because laughs, not any dark “Lord’s” notions, are the makings of immortality. They last forever on your mouth. Laughter lifts sorrow, giggles heal wounds, smiles ferry beauty.
“Thus, with no further ado…” Doors swung and impatient floods rushed over magically-protected floors.
He glided over to the remaining spectator.
“The other adults missed out. I like your version of mourning.”
“Well, yours makes a pretty picture nonetheless,” gesturing gallantly to her black robes and bonnet.
Angelina smiled through tears. He was right; Fred was still here.
Bill Weasley, Ginny Weasley (G) by pyrobear
Word Count: 254
The September air was still warm enough that Mummy would let her out to play in the garden without a jumper. Except, of course, there was no one, not a single person, to play with. They were all at Hogwarts or beyond. Huffing, Ginny threw herself onto the swing. At least this was one thing she could do by herself.
"What's that look for, Gingerbread?"
The ten year old looked up to see her very biggest brother crossing through the orchard. "Bill!" She leapt off of the old wooden swing and into the man's arms. "You have very many more freckles than I remember."
The long haired man laughed as he caught his sister mid-leap. "The sun'll do that to you, Gingerbread, but you didn't answer my question. What's that look for?"
"You've all gone away." Despite not wanting to cry, Ginny could feel tears welling in the corners of her eyes. That was alright though. Bill would never make fun of her for crying like a girl.
A calloused thumb reached up to brush away a tear that threatened to fall. "Don't cry, Ginny. What's the point? Just think of all the good points with everyone gone. You never have to wait for the loo or fight with Ron for the last piece of roast or be forced to listen to Percy recite Hogwarts, a History. Give me a smile, yeah? I promise you'll feel better."
Ginny tilted her face up to give Bill a watery smile. And he was right; she did.
★ Prompt suggestions like blankets, should be shared! If you’ve got an inspirational idea you want to toss our way, we accept carrier pigeons and emails to lazysundaydrabs@gmail.com You’re also welcome comment to any post with suggestions, logged in or anonymously.
Today's Prompts:
★ Giggle
★ Nat King Cole’s Smile (lyrics here)
★ “Nothing to me feels as good as laughing incredibly hard.” ~ Steve Carell
Next Week's Prompts: (use one, some, or all!)
★ Slytherins
★ Big & Rich’s Save a Horse (Rise a Cowboy) (lyrics here)
★ “The greatest pleasure in life is doing what people say you cannot do.” ~ Walter Bagehot
Angelina Johnson, George Weasley (G) by loonynamelass
Bill Weasley, Ginny Weasley (G) by pyrobear
Angelina Johnson, George Weasley (G) by loonynamelass
Word Count: 500
George glanced warily at the clear shotglasses assembled in the flat he shared… used to share. Fred was the drinker- though he’d shared and allowed the secret. After all, the main perk of moving out was indulgence.
Not a drop was missing from this bottle of Firewhiskey, having been designated for peacetime. Well, war’s over. What now?
“We toast,” Fred answered, or was it George? Impossible to tell.
Obediently, George poured, grasped it in shaking fingers, thanked Merlin he was of age, and-
It slipped and shattered. Reparo, all is mended- though the red liquid spread unhindered, seeking to stain. Returning the bottle to the cupboard with a bang only brought more memories, painful, Fred-ful…
“Blimey, Forge, what the hell is this?” Fred punched his shoulder playfully. “What you beating yourself up for?”
“Stop,” George cried, grabbing the fist that accosted him. It took a split second to realize he struggled against himself, and both fell limp. The self-arm wrestling was so ridiculous that instead of crying as his face screwed up to, he burst into laughter, and kept at it. “Beating myself up”- an irresistible pun- and it felt too good to laugh, the evening after Fred’s demise.
~?~
After the war’s end, the store was first to reopen in Diagon Alley. Children flocked to the store for the famous founder’s speech, while shyer teenagers milled about in the back, and his family’s support stood in front.
Plopping down onto the spinning chair, he leaped up with an unrehearsed shriek and curse. The tension popped, giggles bursting from every corner of audience.
George lifted the pin with a piqued air before it soundlessly vanished. The audience ahhed this display, and he took it in stride, as though it’d been a pre-orchestrated performance. His eyes caught a darkly dressed adult, dark fingers deftly twisting the offending ornament.
“S’pose I’ll stand,” he remarked good-naturedly to general amusement, rubbing his sore bum. Some started practicing his swear.
“Don’t tell your parents,” he added conspiratorially, “though I’d have liked to see more of them. Grown-ups oughta laugh, too. They think they’re above it, but laughter is above war, too…
“So what’s their excuse? Perhaps they think the jokes have died, or lost half o’ their soul. George Weasley, the twin with no twin. Joke without a punchline…
“But thing is- with every peal rolling off a tongue, Fred Weasley’s there. With every appreciation of irony, he approves. So why grieve? Just bring him back; bring them all back!
“Because laughs, not any dark “Lord’s” notions, are the makings of immortality. They last forever on your mouth. Laughter lifts sorrow, giggles heal wounds, smiles ferry beauty.
“Thus, with no further ado…” Doors swung and impatient floods rushed over magically-protected floors.
He glided over to the remaining spectator.
“The other adults missed out. I like your version of mourning.”
“Well, yours makes a pretty picture nonetheless,” gesturing gallantly to her black robes and bonnet.
Angelina smiled through tears. He was right; Fred was still here.
Bill Weasley, Ginny Weasley (G) by pyrobear
Word Count: 254
The September air was still warm enough that Mummy would let her out to play in the garden without a jumper. Except, of course, there was no one, not a single person, to play with. They were all at Hogwarts or beyond. Huffing, Ginny threw herself onto the swing. At least this was one thing she could do by herself.
"What's that look for, Gingerbread?"
The ten year old looked up to see her very biggest brother crossing through the orchard. "Bill!" She leapt off of the old wooden swing and into the man's arms. "You have very many more freckles than I remember."
The long haired man laughed as he caught his sister mid-leap. "The sun'll do that to you, Gingerbread, but you didn't answer my question. What's that look for?"
"You've all gone away." Despite not wanting to cry, Ginny could feel tears welling in the corners of her eyes. That was alright though. Bill would never make fun of her for crying like a girl.
A calloused thumb reached up to brush away a tear that threatened to fall. "Don't cry, Ginny. What's the point? Just think of all the good points with everyone gone. You never have to wait for the loo or fight with Ron for the last piece of roast or be forced to listen to Percy recite Hogwarts, a History. Give me a smile, yeah? I promise you'll feel better."
Ginny tilted her face up to give Bill a watery smile. And he was right; she did.
★ Prompt suggestions like blankets, should be shared! If you’ve got an inspirational idea you want to toss our way, we accept carrier pigeons and emails to lazysundaydrabs@gmail.com You’re also welcome comment to any post with suggestions, logged in or anonymously.