Drabble Day: Prompt 1- BONUS ROUND!
Apr. 21st, 2012 02:30 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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no subject
Date: 2012-04-21 05:23 am (UTC)This is for you,
Have a good one!
"It's not funny!" Draco insisted for the seventh time that afternoon, but Harry just kept right on giggling. "Stop laughing, you ignoramus!"
"Who's the ignoramus?" said Harry. "I told you to stay out of the backyard."
Draco tried to look stern, but it was a hard look to pull off when one was hovering five feet above the ground and unable to renegotiate oneself around the room: just to keep from floating upside down he had to kick his feet as if he were swimming; to avoid bumping his head on the ceiling he had to keep one hand raised as if he were Granger hoping to get called on in class.
Harry was giggling and giggling.
"Well how was I supposed to know you're harboring those . . . those illegal vermin!" spat Draco.
"I'm not harboring anything," said Harry as he flipped through one of the books from the Malfoy Manor library. "They're an infestation. Just another of dozens that I'm working on getting rid of. I told you Grimmauld Place needs work."
"And I told you that we should just live in the manor."
"Draco," said Harry, "I love you, but I'll live with your father when pigs fly."
"Stick one in your backyard," pouted Draco. "It'll be flying within the hour."
Harry relapsed into another round of giggling. Draco sulked prettily.
At last, Harry found the passage he was looking for; he read it to himself, lips forming around the silent words.
"Well?" said Draco. "What does it say?"
"It says that you're likely going to turn mauve and start singing uncontrollably."
"Oh shut up. You don't even know what color mauve is."
"No, really. There's no solution. You'll just have to wait for the effects to wear off."
"Honestly!" sighed Draco.
Harry continued his perusal of the book.
"Draco . . ." he said. "Just how long did you stay out there?"
"In the backyard?" asked Draco. "Seconds. The instant I got stung I ran back inside."
"Are you sure?" There was a smile curling Harry's mouth that Draco really did not like. "Because it says here that only multiple stings can cause prolonged levitation."
Draco felt pale and hot. Was this another side-effect?
"That's . . . odd," he choked.
"Draco . . ." said Harry.
"Harry," he said back, hoping his expression was spiteful.
"How many times did you get stung?"
"Once?"
"Draco."
"Twice?"
"Tell me the truth or I'll never do that thing with my tongue again."
Draco blanched.
"Harry, come on. Be reasonable."
Harry tapped his foot.
"Alright!" cried Draco. "Seventeen. Okay? Seventeen stings. What can I say? It felt good. I was high on Billywigs!"
With a terribly uncouth snort that made him sound like a bull with a sinus infection, Harry dissolved into raucous laughter.
Draco hovered at the ceiling and distracted himself with thoughts of Harry's tongue.
no subject
Date: 2012-04-21 07:49 am (UTC)"Draco," said Harry, "I love you, but I'll live with your father when pigs fly."
"Stick one in your backyard," pouted Draco. "It'll be flying within the hour."
Just brilliant :D
no subject
Date: 2012-04-21 03:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-04-21 02:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-04-21 03:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-04-21 08:02 am (UTC)Leaning over as far as he could from the Slytherin table Albus threw another piece of his toast crust at his brother who sat opposite him at the Gryffindor table.
“Oi you bugger don’t ignore me!.”
Turning James glared at him holding a finger over his lips before pointing to where the headmaster was making the morning speech. Sighing Al turned back to his place and crossed his arms over the table.
“Do you think he has got them?”
Looking up at Scorpius he nodded trying not to grin.
“Look at Hugo, he’s high for sure.”
Glancing over his shoulder Scorpius looked at the young boy who was sitting next to James. On closer inspection it did look suspiciously like James was holding him down.
“He must have had loads to be floating like that!.
“Yeah Hugo never knows when to stop. Mum says he gets it off his dad.”
The headmaster had finished the speech and returned to his seat signalling the students could now leave. Spinning back around to face James Al smiled as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small vial filled with inch long, blue spines. Tossing it to Al he leaned over and whispered.
“Don’t you dare overdose again or I WILL tell dad this time. It’s bad enough knowing what Aunt Hermione is going to do to me over this idiot.”
no subject
Date: 2012-04-21 08:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-04-21 12:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-04-21 01:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-04-21 03:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-04-21 02:23 pm (UTC)Word Count: 322
Warning/Rating: This should probably be PG-13. Mentions of people being high on billywig stings....
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Hermione/Harry/Ron.
“How did you not realise that sending your parents to Australia would cause us to go there?” Ron asked annoyed.
“I sent them there, because I didn’t think I’d survive!” Hermione answered hysterically.
“Well, now that Harry’s high on Billywig stings, I’m not sure I want to survive!” Ron said, tugging on the rope he had in his hands. They’d tried to disguise Harry, who was tied to the other end of the rope, with magic, camouflaging him so the Muggles of Australia wouldn’t have a heart-attack.
“How was I supposed to know that he wouldn’t know not to go near Billywigs?” Hermione said, still sound hysterical. The only difference was that she seemed to have realised that shrieking was not a very good idea.
“Hermione, you’ve been dating him for almost a year now and you’ve been his friend for what.... eight years? You should know that he does not go seeking knowledge like that randomly. The only reason I knew was because I grew up with Fred and George.” Ron said.
Hermione only huffed and then looked up to where the rope disappeared. “Do you think he’s okay?” she asked, sounding worried.
“‘Mione, he’s high. He’s okay with everything.” Ron answered, tugging on the rope once again and picking up his pace. “I, on the other hand, need to get to the hotel room now.”
“How do we get him inside?” Hermione said suddenly.
“I was thinking that if we ever find a deserted enough place, we’ll just Apparate inside the room. We’ll just remember to Apparate out as well.”
Hermione nodded. After a few minutes, she spotted the perfect place for them to Apparate from, and tugged Ron in that direction. When they were out of sight, she moved even closer to Ron, standing on her toes to reach his mouth and kissed him. “I’m glad at least one of my boyfriends has some sense.”
no subject
Date: 2012-04-21 03:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-04-21 03:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-04-21 06:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-04-21 07:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-04-21 05:08 pm (UTC)Rating: PG
Word Count: 533
Pairing: Harry/Draco (friendship/preslash)
Notes: Written for
no subject
Date: 2012-04-21 10:17 pm (UTC)Rose/Lysander
Different kinds of fun (http://imera.livejournal.com/6667.html)
fill: Pants Parkinson and the Goblets, pg 1/2
Date: 2012-04-21 10:38 pm (UTC)Of course he would be, but there’s no telling what the manic sounds from downstairs have been and while she’s learned not to venture down to the shop when she knows he’s in his workroom unless she’s been summoned, she does still worry every now and again.
There’s been a lot of crashing and thumping and clanging going on down there, though she suspects the little blue things she’s seen flitting about might be responsible.
“You all right, Pants?” he asks as soon as the door’s shut, only a bit breathless when he does.
“Yeah, of course.” She toys with asking how his day’s been, decides he’ll tell her if he’s of a mind to share. “Hungry? I thought we’d start dinner at half-seven, if that’s good for you?”
He nods once, resolute, and makes his way across the flat, probably to change out of his grubby clothes. Few things wreck a decent set of robes the way time spent in his workroom can and Pansy’s learned not to be fussed much about how it looks. He’s always been safe, her Earless, and she can’t think why he’d take foolish risks with himself now.
Still, he lingers at the bedroom door, turns back to her and only just watches for a moment. He looks tired and rather less impressed with himself than she likes to see, but that’ll change quick enough now he’s home.
“You’re sure you’re fine?” he asks carefully. “Not, I don’t know, not seeing things or anything? Not feeling giddy?”
She lifts her eyebrows and taps her quill. “I’m doing our taxes, George. That’s hardly giddy-making.”
He blinks at her, stares blankly. “Taxes. Right. Course you are.” Then he makes a face, screws up his nose uncertainly. She wonders what he means to ask, how worried she should be that it’s taking him a bit to actually get to it.
He’s been doing so much better speaking just for himself lately, the past six months at least without a slip, but she knows there’s a world of memories down in that workroom, that each day’s its own challenge. “Yeah, taxes,” she murmurs. Straightens her shoulders and slants him a cocky smile. “Just getting to the good bit, actually.” She waggles her brows when she says, “Deductions,” just to see him smile back.
“Deductions,” he repeats. “And you’re smiling. You sure you haven’t run into anything? Maybe had a bit of an itch somewhere, like a bug bite?”
She hides her laughter in a blandish shrug. “Quite sure, yeah. Should I not be?” She waits for the flicker of uncertainty to pass over him before she says airily, “If you mean your blue bits, they’re just there.” She flicks her quill at the goblets. “Should I ask what they are or just assume it’s best I caught them as they started hovering?”
His mouth twitches after a moment, a blurt of laughter he’s considering and enough disbelief to flush his cheeks pink. It should look atrocious with his colouring, but it never does to her. She likes when he laughs.
Loves when she’s made him.
“You made goblets of them?” he asks, and she nods confirmation. “Do you know what they are?” She hikes a brow, resolves she’ll get back to the joys of tax deductions eventually, when he’s skipped off to change, and gives him all of her attention.
Though, to be honest, he’s had it since he walked in.
Re: fill: Pants Parkinson and the Goblets, pg 2/2
Date: 2012-04-21 10:39 pm (UTC)He bobs his head at her, grins crooked and faint in thought. “Escaped billywigs,” he says. “Ruddy supplier left the cap on without the proper sealing charm. Minute I opened the carton, off they went. Spent all of my day tracking them down —” he squints at her, mock-accusingly “—and caught nearly all of them. With a few obvious exceptions.”
“Should I change them back?”
“You know we can’t drink from them. Class B narcotic, those stings.”
“So what I’m hearing is, we should save them for a special occasion?” she teases. Mocks thought and the charm of discovery. “Maybe when we’ve family over?”
It’s harder than it should be to ask that one straight-faced, far too easy to picture the dour-faced Weasley eldest giggling himself silly, the prig-idiot Parkinson boy batting at nothing and prattling on. She wouldn’t ever really do it, because she has to live with them all and will forever, but she can dream.
“Might take you up on that.”
Which is when it occurs to her the next lot of relatives they’ll have to see is going to be her side. And actually, for all the gin pickling her mother, the billywig stings couldn’t hurt.
“So that’s a plan, then,” she murmurs, twisting her quill again as though she means to get back to taxes. “Do you want to get cleaned up and I’ll start on dinner?”
“Suppose I should, yeah.” He watches her a moment longer, makes her feel all warm and soft inside when he does. “Going to be much longer on the taxes, d’you think?”
“Steady on, my Earless. Be quick about it and I promise not to start dinner on my own.” She flicks a look over him, his broad, rangy body and his dear, smudged face. He’s delightful and he’s dusty and the only reason he hasn’t been summoned over for a kiss yet is that Merlin only knows what it is he’s got on him. “Least I can do after a day like you’ve had is keep it edible, don’t you think?”
He blurts a laugh then, scratches near his hairline and rubs a hand over his face. “Yeah, give me ten and I’ll get something started.”
And maybe they never do get around to using Pansy’s goblets as anything more than decoration, but some nights, the miserable and cold ones, the ones after long days, it’s enough to think they could.
no subject
Date: 2012-04-22 01:50 am (UTC)Draco was busy with his potion when Harry entered the lab. He loved watching his boyfriend at work; the look of concentration on his handsome face was captivating, not to mention that the sight of Draco's normally perfect hair mussed always did things to Harry. The only other time that happened was during sex. Harry lived to see it.
He watched as Draco finished stirring and began looking around on the table for something. Draco glanced up and, spotting Harry in the doorway, smirked.
"Watching me again, were you? You just can't keep your eyes off me, Potter," he said smugly. Harry smiled as he came closer.
"It's very true. I also can't seem to keep my hands to myself." He reached for Draco, who came into his arms without argument. Harry wove his arms around Draco and stroked his back and hair lovingly. Draco sighed.
"That's nice. I've been at this too long. Once I'm done with this potion I'll call it a day. Which reminds me..." he pulled back to look at Harry's face. "Can you fetch me the jar of Billywig stings from the shelf? I need to monitor the temperature on the cauldron."
It was Harry's turn to smirk. "Oh admit it! You just want to stare at my arse while I'm up there." Draco blushed and Harry smiled, leaning in to kiss a pink cheek. "Of course I'll get it, love."
Harry pulled away and Draco turned back to his potion, seemingly no longer paying attention to him. Harry crossed the room and climbed the small ladder needed to reach Draco's supply shelf. Harry thought he knew why Draco did not renovate the lab and store his ingredients somewhere more accessible, and as he turned back toward his boyfriend, his suspicions were confirmed.
"I knew it!" he chuckled as Draco quickly dropped his gaze and tried to look busy. "There's nothing to be ashamed of, Draco. I'd stare at my arse too if only I could. It's a thing of beauty."
Draco huffed and looked up, his blush more pronounced than before. "Stuff it, you insufferable prat. Just get me those stings."
Still chuckling, Harry went back to his task and quickly located the jar in question. Billywig stings in hand, he turned to look at Draco once more and lost his footing on the last rung of the ladder. He cried out in surprise and stumbled, grabbing onto a nearby table and managing to not hurt himself.
Unfortunately, the jar went flying out of his hand, crashing on the ground near Draco's feet. Harry watched in horror as a particularly nasty-looking sting shot out and stuck Draco in the leg. His boyfriend yelped, hopping up and down on one foot. The sight would have been hilarious if Draco wasn't in pain and it wasn't all Harry's fault.
no subject
Date: 2012-04-22 01:53 am (UTC)"Draco! Oh Merlin, I'm so sorry! Are you okay?" He rushed to Draco's side, not knowing what to do, but wanting to help. Draco had stopped hopping and looked at Harry with wide eyes. Suddenly a huge grin spread across his face.
"I'm wonderful, Harry," Draco said, in a voice rather like Luna's. Then he did something that Harry had never heard him do before: Draco Malfoy giggled.
"Draco? What's wrong? Are you in any pain?" Harry asked worriedly. Draco gazed up at him, still giggling.
"No, no pain! Just happy. I've never been so happy," Draco beamed.
"Are you sure you're alright? You seem almost...giddy or something."
Draco's giggling, which had not yet ceased, turned into full-on laughter. He bent over and clutched at his sides, tears streaming down his face. As if this was not enough to worry Harry, a few moments later Draco began to rise off of the floor.
"Draco!" Harry cried out in alarm, grabbing Draco's feet as they rose past his chest. "What's going on?"
"It's fine, Harry. It's just the...the...the stings!" Draco could barely talk for laughing. "Billywig stings cause levi-" He paused for a fit of giggles. "Levitation and...giddiness." At this he cracked up once more.
Harry shook his head at his lover's antics. "Alright, Mary Poppins, how do we get you down?"
More giggling met Harry's ears. "Mary Poppins...you're bloody funny, Harry!" Harry couldn't help a small smile at Draco's infectious laughter. "We just wait 'till...'till it wears off."
Harry huffed, glancing down at the broken glass and stings all over the floor. "Is it alright if I let you go? I'll clean this mess up." Draco nodded, still chuckling merrily. Harry raised his arms up and gently released Draco's feet so that he would not bump into the ceiling too hard.
He bent down to sweep the stings into a pile, while also trying to keep one eye on his floating boyfriend. He watched as Draco did flips in the air and laughed. His laughter turned to a gasp of surprise and pain a second later as a sting pierced his finger.
"Damn," he muttered, pulling his finger back and sucking on it. He glanced back up as Draco's chuckles grew louder.
"Looks like you'll be joining me up here," he said, smiling. "I do love your laugh."
Harry couldn't contain his grin. "Not as much as I love my arse." Draco snorted, and they both burst out laughing.
no subject
Date: 2012-04-22 02:02 am (UTC)