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     Prompted Drabbles of Ellei (30)

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    PostSubject: Prompted Drabbles of Ellei (30)   Sun Mar 14, 2010 9:06 am

    Draco - Surrender (list 6, number 68)

    Wand shaking in hand, Draco felt his world tighten and focus to the night air growing still and thick around him. The only movement is his trembling body as he wills himself to act. He wishes the old man would die on the spot, or kill him. Anything that would break the tension in the night would bring relief against the struggle inside him. On one hand, his death and the death of his parents. On the other, a murderer’s body, a killer’s mind. Dumbledore doesn’t fight, but Draco is old enough to know that inaction is not a surrender.

    Remus - Thousand (list 3, number 26)

    He blinked. A thousand days passed. He sighed. A thousand more. When Remus tried to remember the twelve years he’d spent trying to hate Sirius, this was all that he saw. He didn’t recall the days when there was no food or the nights when he had slept in the cold, alone. The full moons blurred together almost apologetically, as if they knew they reminded him of something they shouldn’t. Four times he blinked away days and still they came, like lashings across his already burdened back. Another stripe for his love – for his guilt. A thousand was not enough.

    Remus - Sensual (list 3, number 35)

    The chocolate slid against his tongue in a melting trail of bliss and he moaned appreciatively. “Oh, it’s like starlight and dreams and warm baths. It’s downright sensual, it is.” He licked his lips carefully, gathering crumbs.

    “Oh, don’t be so dramatic, Moony, that’s not sensual. This is sensual.” Sirius was on his feet in a bound that seemed more canine than human and then he was writhing against the bedpole, leering at Remus through half-lidded eyes. “See the difference, Moony? Chocolate, tasty. Pole-dancing, sexy.”

    A bubble of laughter traveled up Remus’s throat and popped there, like a small hiccup.

    Remus - Stray (list 3, number 85)


    The scratching at the door that was faint before began to drown out the sounds of errant dishes crashing in the kitchen. “Remus, could you please see what that is?”

    With a sigh of contempt, Remus put down his newspaper. “Yes, Nymphadora, dear.” He barely heard her protests at the name over the clawing at the door.

    The black dog staring up at him pulled its lips into a snarl, or perhaps a grin. It panted up at him as if laughing, and Remus leaned down to stroke its greying fur.

    “What is it, sweetheart?”

    “Nothing....just an old stray.”




    Remus - Bias (list 3, number 83)

    “There’s never been a more wonderful child in all of England. In all the world. And to think, I was worried that he might be an abomination. He’s perfect.”

    “Remus.”

    “Hmm?”

    Tonks looked at him, the corners of her lips threatening to twitch into a joker’s grin. “His hair is the most awful shade of turquoise I’ve ever seen. Even I wouldn’t try that.”

    “And?”

    “And his eyes are two different colors. For Merlin’s sake, the left one is kelly green!” She wrinkled her nose and tilted her head sideways at her son.

    “Well...I suppose I’m a bit biased.”

    Remus - Glimpse (list 3, number 42)

    Remus’s days at Grimmauld Place should have been some of the best in his life, despite the turmoil in the world. They had Sirius back (well, for the most part) and sometimes he even felt hope. He should have been joyous, and he was, for most of the summer. But then came the day when he’d gone to rescue the savior of the wizarding world, the golden boy he had taught for one year but had known forever. He could never find Harry’s face, his voice, his laugh. The boy was just a poor imitation of James....a fleeting glimpse.

    Snape - Chocolate (list 7, number 47)

    Veritaserum bubbled quietly in a tiny bronzed cauldron in the corner as Severus sat at his desk, marking through paper after dismal paper. He didn’t think he’d ever given so many Ds and Ts in his whole life, and he was still going strong at 34 years old. He dashed off an A on the Granger girl’s paper, shaking his head. He would love to fail her straight through, but the frustrating girl actually seemed to be competent. Hurriedly scanning through the next paper, he nearly choked on his tea as his eyes fell over the glaring errors. The Longbottom boy would truly be the death of him. Sighing, he glanced toward the cabinet that held an old bottle of Ogden’s, but turned and began to dig in his desk drawer. Sure, firewhiskey could soothe away the idiocy of the likes of Weasley or Potter, but Longbottom? This required chocolate.

    Slytherins - Nocturnal (list 2, number 87)


    Around the fireplace, chilled by the soaking cold of the lake above them, the sixth years sat, mostly silent. It was that odd shade of night that lingers just before dawn, giving the sky an eerie tint of madness, but this they knew only by instinct. Another long night had passed in stretches of talk, first punctuated by laughter and the passing around of the forbidden bottles; later, separated by the long silences of thought that came between the subjects that weighed on their minds like lead. They were creatures of the night, and the sun never rose for Slytherin.

    Minor Characters - Fire (list 1, number 52)

    Vincent Crabbe wasn’t what most would call intelligent. He had a hard time with his classes, he was always a step behind in the conversation, and he wasn’t always sure what he was laughing at when he was with the other boys, especially Nott. Yet he knew above all one thing: how to do what he was told. He wasn’t worried about himself that night, or the fighting, or the shouts of his friends. All he knew was what the Dark Lord had ordered. It was the last thing that lingered in his mind as the roaring fire consumed him

    Remus - Jump (list 3, number 56)

    For once in his life, Remus Lupin had had enough. He’d seen the dark looks down the end of the boy’s long, crooked nose and the whispers to his friends behind the curtain of his hair. He’d tried so hard not to hate him, for so long, but it was all in vain. The more he tried to return love, or at least pity, for hate, the more he knew that he couldn’t now and couldn’t ever. He heard his own laughter, cold and distant, as he levitated the heavily annotated potions book into the air above Snape’s head.

    “Jump.”


    The Trio - Sacred (list 5, number 43)

    It wasn’t something mundane, what they’d found on Halloween night. That would seem to be obvious, when they told the story to their children years later, never needing to exaggerate when the tale involved a giant troll in a girls’ bathroom. But that wasn’t what had been so important about that night. Each of them knew that together, they were more than the sum of their parts. Alone, they were already different, plucked out from the crowd for their own reasons and excuses. But together they had something special, a bond that surpassed magic itself. What they had was sacred.

    The Trio - Spin (list 5, number 78)

    The noise and the lights overwhelmed Hermione, so used to the dull, drab world of Hogwarts. The band seemed to play endlessly as she was twirled, hand tiny and fragile in Viktor’s. Her gaze, however, seemed to wander repeatedly to her friends, staring dejectedly into the crowds, long abandoned by their dates. She felt a lump grow in her throat as she remembered her dashed hopes of being asked to the ball by Ron. Determined, she looked up into Viktor’s face and locked her eyes there, smiling as widely as she could. She forgot the world and began to spin.

    Snape - Hers (list 7, number27)

    It wasn’t often that Severus lay awake. He had been nursing bottles of Dreamless Sleep for so long that nighttime was now like a short sojourn into death, to be terminated before sunrise. It was only when he was haunted that he sprawled across his bed, face turned to the wall in an attempt to forget his thoughts. And tonight, more than ever, he could feel her closer than his own skin, bright enough to set sparks before his eyes. Everyone said that Severus Snape was his own man. He knew better. Had he ever been anything other than hers?

    Trio - Sand (list 5, number 43)

    Ron didn’t want to be jealous. He really didn’t. It wasn’t his fault that it was the first feeling he’d ever learned beyond hunger. Growing up with five brothers, he’d spent his whole life being not quite as good, and school only worsened it. And now, every time he looked at Harry, it was like sand between his teeth, tiny but ever-present, and possibly the most annoying thing he’d known. Every time that Hermione’s eyes lit up when he came in through the flap of the tent, yawning – Ron bit down against the sand and vowed to live with it.

    _________________



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    PostSubject: Re: Prompted Drabbles of Ellei (30)   Mon Mar 15, 2010 12:01 am

    Scorpius - Sorrow (list 10, number 11)

    There are too many blonde people in this room, he thinks, as he sits in the back of the rows. He didn’t know that there were this many of them; a whole army of blonde heads spread across the nations. He imagines he’s going a bit mad, but isn’t that what grief is supposed to do? His father is at home, drowning in his sea of brandy, or of scotch, depending on how choppy the waves are today. Scorpius has never been much of a sailor, and he sips his water to replace his tears. Rest in peace, Narcissa Malfoy.


    Remus - Sleepwalk (list 3, number 41)

    Don’t knock. Remus isn’t here. Haven’t you seen the sky tonight? Pale, bloated moon hanging overhead like a bad omen. It’s not a pretty sight, not to us. That’s why we leave these notes, for you. Go back to bed. Lock your door. Be safe.

    The Patron Saints of Sleepwalkers


    Snape - Child (list 7, number 18)

    Severus wasn’t proud of many things, but he smiled every time he counted past ten. He counted the bruises scattered across his body until he reached fifteen, poking at each ugly little mark that daddy said he deserved. He had to count them quick, before mommy came and kissed them away, her own bruises blooming beneath her eyes. Mommy tried to tell him that the marks meant daddy loved them...that he knew what was best for them. He learned to push her back when she came to vanish them away. On his third birthday, he counted twenty and grinned.


    Bellatrix - Temptation (list 9, number 16)

    The madness dancing through her veins twisted her vision until she saw only the outlines of the world; there was her Lord, back straight and proud, movements regal; there was Rodolphus, running amok like the incompetent man he was. The vermin strewn across the path were no more than blurs of begging flesh, their screams the symphony of night. One, though, smaller than the others, playing a note that pierced the skies, was a sharp outline in her sight. Need rolled deliciously in her and she turned, questioning, to her Master. Never was anything so tempting as a screeching child.

    Trio - Blue (list 5, number 60)

    “That’s just silly, Ronald. There’s no way to have blue-brown eyes.”

    “Well, then, they’ll just be blue, won’t they? No son of mine is going to have those roomy eyes.”

    “Son? When did we suddenly decide this baby was a boy?”

    “Well, of course it’s a boy! And he’ll look just like his father.”

    “That’s scientifically improbable, dear.”

    “Babies aren’t SCIENCE, they’re MAGIC!”

    The room fell silent before erupting in raucous laughter. The argument carried on for months over the dinner table and right up until St. Mungo’s presented Rose Weasley -- brown-haired, and with the bluest eyes they’d ever seen.


    Scorpius - Unforgivable

    The flutter of fingertips across his spine was a distant reminder that he was alive and breathing, still inhabiting his physical body. That body of which every inch screamed “Malfoy” at whoever saw it. He is trying his best, within his mind, to feel defiled. The boy lying next to him, boneless and lazily pleased, seems unaware of what he’s done. There is, somewhere in Wiltshire, a man disgusted with the world who would have both their heads on a platter. Scorpius shrugs to himself and rolls over, kissing each expanse of tanned skin with purpose. Their sin is unforgivable.


    Remus - Corruption

    “I am not going to put itching powder in Snape’s trousers, Sirius. That’s infantile.” Remus Lupin refuses to look up from his three and a half feet of parchment, already mostly filled with an essay on the effects of long-term Dreamless Sleep abuse.

    Sirius snorts. “Of course it is. That’s the point, Moony! You act eighty-four all the time, you need to be childish once in a while. You’re my friend, not my grandfather.”

    Remus glances up from his tight, rambling scrawl long enough to give his most incredulous look. “Fine. I’ll buy a lollipop, next time we go to Hogsmeade. Happy?” Without waiting for an answer, he dashes his signature at the bottom of the page, finally giving Sirius his full attention. “There’s nothing you can say to talk me into this, Padfoot.”

    “Well, if words won’t do it...” Sirius trails, before crossing the distance between them in a single sweeping moment of pureblood grace. His lips are not so eloquent, smashing awkwardly at angles with Remus’s which are rather soft and not quite so chapped as they might look. He parts them, briefly, before he pulls away. “Now?”

    “Mmm,” Remus says. Thus the corruption of Moony began.

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    PostSubject: Re: Prompted Drabbles of Ellei (30)   Wed Mar 17, 2010 11:34 am

    Minor Characters - Lies

    Draco Malfoy had never said, implicitly, that he and Pansy would be married. It had never come up during class, when he snubbed her for her ignorance; in the common room, where he chattered about earning the favor of the Dark Lord; even in his bed, although it had been the only place he’d say he loved her. Silly girl, she believed him. In her mind, each time she stroked his hair was a promise; each time he led her to his room, a vow, even if he wouldn’t look at her afterward. Pansy never learned to see the lies.


    Snape - Hero

    The cold, impersonal white of the infirmary didn’t keep Severus Snape from seeing red. There was nothing wrong with him, which would have been obvious to someone that was at least competent. As it was, he’d spent the last twelve hours pushing away the nurse’s potions and tinctures. If he took the medicine, he would forget. He would forget the eyes of the beast that wanted nothing more than to tear him to bloody rags. He’d forget the headlong tackle from that stupid bloody James Potter, who probably thought he was a hero. Severus wouldn’t, no, couldn’t, let that happen.


    Bellatrix - Jewel

    No one ever wonders what blooms before madness, in the same way that no one asks a beggar if he was once a millionaire. It is improbable and, beyond that, irrelevant. People never wondered if Bellatrix Lestrange’s wild eyes had ever looked on a parent with adoration; no one stopped to think of her days as a child, soft and pale with her teeth like pearls between pink lips that had never uttered a curse. Their minds were poisoned with the vision of her tatters and curls, mangy and desolate from Azkaban, a beautiful jewel worn down to jagged stone.


    Snape - Who?

    Severus collapsed to the ground, feeling as if everything that was stable in the world had vanished, leaving nothing but his grief, falling through space. Even the earth beneath him didn’t feel real and he tried his best to grip it, to know that something was still real. Lily Evans was gone. Not just gone in the way that she’d been gone – distant and cold, a hollow idol in the past. No, she was dead, and Severus wondered how his universe would spin with no center. For who could take her place but her own pale ghost in his mind?


    Bellatrix - Mask

    The metal on her skin thrilled her senses, tactile pleasures and pains that surrounded her. A voice, rich and filled with laughter that expressed a joy she never imagined, was carried on the wind and back to her before she realized it was her own. The truth washed over her like the sparks of a fire and she ran, cloak streaming, mad with the thought of her own perfection. Everything in her led to this night, this moment in which she raised her arms to the moon and was whole, with the mask that made her not anonymous, but almighty.


    Dumbledore - Soft


    Albus sat alone in the room that he shared with his brother, Aberforth, who was Merlin only knew where right now, working off steam. The jumble of emotions in his chest wasn’t pleasant; he was an intellectual being and meant to think things, not feel them. He was angry, hurt, grieving....and guilty, guilty because beneath it all he missed Gellert as if he were an amputated limb forever lost but always present, a phantom. The pair of socks in his hand was soft, slipping over his fingers in an unconscious urge to be touched – to be held and told everything was alright. But Albus had no parents to paint the pretty picture of the future that he needed. All he had was the pin through the woolen socks, holding the letter that he no longer needed to see to read.

    “Albus, you fool, I will be gone when you read this. You are more blind than the Muggles who will not see me coming when I obtain the Hallows, and more naive than the girl you lowered into the ground. I balk now at the fact that my heart was deceived, but all is as it should be. Gellert.”


    Dumbledore - Foreign

    The knock was unexpected and mildly unwelcome. Writing letters to Elphias had become something of a ritual lately, a way of having something constant in his life, and to be interrupted simply made him angry. He swung the barrier open and stared, unimpressed, at the boy in his doorway. “Yes?”

    “My aunt has sent me to borrow sugar?” the young blonde announced, half question and half answer. His accent was not thick but it was there, reminding Albus of all that he was missing in mainland Europe.

    “Fine.” Albus turned away, glad that the distraction could be quickly disposed of.


    Trio - Brown

    Hermione’s mouth, set in a perfect and frozen grin for keeping up appearances, slowly slipped into the frown that she had been wanting to wear all day. It was frosty in the tent and somehow, even reading seemed to bore one after long enough. Harry was outside now, silent and stone-faced, although in a few more minutes he would likely be dozing lightly. Ron had been gone for weeks and even the leaves on the trees seemed to echo his disappearance, the brilliant red fading to late autumn’s brown. Hermione shut her eyes and wished it away into uneasy slumber.

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    PostSubject: Re: Prompted Drabbles of Ellei (30)   Sat Mar 24, 2012 12:54 am

    James Potter the Elder - Inferiority
    James Potter had to admit that, yes, he was generally an arrogant toerag. He wasn't just good at the things he loved to do; he was the greatest, whether it was Quidditch, Defence, or marauding. It came naturally to him like breathing or, even more innately, losing his breath at the sight of Lily Evans. There wasn't a single tick of time in the Potter legacy that felt like defeat, like someone had bested him. His string of wins, unmarred by losses or draws, brought itself to an abrupt stop in the moment that he fell for her. It was silly, at first, a pretty skirt to chase who happend to be just out of reach, a game for his folly. Much later, in the soft, quiet hours when she let him touch her with unworthy hands, James learned what it was to fall short and to be rewarded anyway.

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