Drabble Day Prompt 1
Sep. 17th, 2011 09:33 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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hd_writersThat's right! It's time for Drabble Day!!!
A little reminder of the rules...
Rule #1 of Drabble Day - There are no rules in Drabble Day! That's right - this is a free-for-all of creativity and imagination.
Every hour, on the hour, myself or some wonderful other mod who'll be letting me nap, will post a word, photo, phrase or writing exercise. Your job, oh wonderful participant, is to let that inspire you and write something about it. Post your response here, or a link to it if you'd prefer to post in your journal, and let others be inspired by your fertile artistry.
We'll take haikus, limericks, four-page essays, chibis (I'm looking at you,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
brinimc), short drabbles, novel-length pieces.
We'll take Harry/Draco, Albus/Ginny, Pansy/Luna, original fiction, ghost/werewolf or anything in between. This is about letting your imagination run wild.
If you have fests your working on, we'd urge you to take a break for a couple of hours to let your brain rest, otherwise please feel free to use our prompts as a starting point when you hit writer's block with the fests.
And so, with no more rambling from me, here is your first prompt:
Love Letters
ETA: Because I forgot even afterkitty_fic told me not to - chatzy and srs!chatzy will be open and full of people also getting their creativity on :D
A little reminder of the rules...
Rule #1 of Drabble Day - There are no rules in Drabble Day! That's right - this is a free-for-all of creativity and imagination.
Every hour, on the hour, myself or some wonderful other mod who'll be letting me nap, will post a word, photo, phrase or writing exercise. Your job, oh wonderful participant, is to let that inspire you and write something about it. Post your response here, or a link to it if you'd prefer to post in your journal, and let others be inspired by your fertile artistry.
We'll take haikus, limericks, four-page essays, chibis (I'm looking at you,
brinimc), short drabbles, novel-length pieces.We'll take Harry/Draco, Albus/Ginny, Pansy/Luna, original fiction, ghost/werewolf or anything in between. This is about letting your imagination run wild.
If you have fests your working on, we'd urge you to take a break for a couple of hours to let your brain rest, otherwise please feel free to use our prompts as a starting point when you hit writer's block with the fests.
And so, with no more rambling from me, here is your first prompt:
ETA: Because I forgot even after
kitty_fic told me not to - chatzy and srs!chatzy will be open and full of people also getting their creativity on :D
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2011-09-17 12:54 am (UTC)As their song sends me to my memories I try to imagine you are lying next to me, your hands in my hair and your thigh pressed between mine, never minding that I wake you as I move against it.
Have I told you how much I love your hands? My friends tell me that herbology gives you strong muscles and a tan. I know what they don't. Your time in the garden has given you strong hands with scars and calluses that can hold me gently or send me soaring. I want them to meld with me until we become one, a joined creature that will one day turn up in some magical journal. Or the Quibbler maybe.
I know you're doing Great Things over there in the Amazon. Finding new plants that will change the way we create potions, but I miss you.
Come home to me soon.
no subject
Date: 2011-09-17 01:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-17 01:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-17 02:15 am (UTC)In which Lord Byron is quite incorrect.
Date: 2011-09-17 02:25 am (UTC)~
It was a near thing, finding it.
But then, so were many of the moments that had led here, those near misses, those almost-didn'ts. Those thank-Salazar-we-dids. He almost hadn't grabbed Harry's sleeve that distant night in the dim hall, held the fabric for a short moment, held his gaze for an uncomfortable eternity. When The Boy Who Paused stepped into his path a week later and leaned in, he almost didn't lean back, which is to say forward. Which is to say, into the wet heat of his mouth. Into his fierce arms, clutching, his hard hips shoving. Thank Salazar he did.
It was a near thing, finding the box; another inch, and he likely never would have. There had never been occasion to dip into Harry's armoire - and all the better, for even the sight of the hopeless tangle of chaos set his teeth on edge - but Kingsley's had Harry off on some interminable assignment for weeks and he's just- He's merely using the opportunity to tidy things up a little, bring some much-needed order to the tumult of clothes and incomprehensible Muggle paraphernalia huddling together in heaps inside the polished wood cabinet. He's certainly not looking for the jumper that smells like Harry, the soft one, usually shoved half-crumpled on the high shelf. Something shifts in the pile as he reaches, and his fingertip bumps unexpected hardness.
Feeling the edge cautiously, he tugs, freeing it from the unseemly nest of trainers and "jeans", and wonders for a brief moment just what he's doing. Should he be? It's not as if they have any secrets anymore, and then he is and should he be is quickly forgotten. The hinges creak smally in the hush of the bedroom, and when he sees it, he hears his breath, the dropped stitch of it, loudly.
He doesn't have to touch it, doesn't need to see more than the little corner of it that's showing under something else, to recognize it. It's lived on in his hands all these years, his fingers remember every fold, every crease. He tries not to remember Harry's eyes when he'd looked up from the charmed missive, tries not the remember the taste of the bile in his throat, swallowed back under the haughty mask. Tries not to remember the regret that sat fat and cold like a stone in his stomach for months, tries and fails. But why in Merlin's name would Harry have saved it? From the look of the other contents, it's a keepsake box, little treasured things, something- Oh. Of his mother's. And this, this ugly piece of paper keeping company with such-
It's a near thing. He almost doesn't reach for it, almost decides to close the lid, close the memory, tuck it back away into the darkness. A near-miss, an almost - and one more that isn't, because instead he leaps: Handfirst into the box, headfirst into his future.
He'll make and spell the others later, hundreds, thousands perhaps; for now, the one that will sit at the center of the white flock greeting Harry when he returns. With a tiny wave, the old message is gone, and he trades wand for quill. When his hand trembles, he convinces himself it's merely fatigue. Almost.
Dear Scarhead,
Marry me.
Love,
D.
no subject
Date: 2011-09-17 02:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-17 02:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-17 02:44 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-17 02:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-17 02:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-17 02:57 am (UTC)Re: In which Lord Byron is quite incorrect.
Date: 2011-09-17 03:00 am (UTC)Re: In which Lord Byron is quite incorrect.
Date: 2011-09-17 03:08 am (UTC)Re: In which Lord Byron is quite incorrect.
Date: 2011-09-17 03:42 am (UTC)Match of the Day (H/D)
Date: 2011-09-17 04:53 am (UTC)Authors: Co-written by
Potter,
What the hell was that out there today? And you call yourself the best Seeker in the league? Why did you let Krum catch the Snitch?
DM
Malfoy,
Sod off with the Match of the Day commentary. I came closer to the Snitch than you would have.
HP
Potter,
I just call it like I see it. I'll show you how a real Seeker does it next Thursday when the Falcons beat the Cannons.
DM
Malfoy,
As if. Don't forget which of us wins at Seeker's tag every game.
HP
Potter,
Well, we can't all be Merlin's gift to the wizarding world, can we? As you know, I'm plenty good at other things. Do you need another demonstration?
DM
Malfoy,
Don't be such a bloody wanker.
H
Harry,
Don't you recognize a pick-up line when you see one, you berk? When will you be home so I can soothe your hurt pride?
D
Draco,
You'll never get results with a line like that. Luckily you've no need to be on the pull anymore.
Coach wants to run through some drills. Be home by 8, hopefully.
H
Harry,
I'll have dinner ready. You really played a great game today. It was bloody unfair how it ended. Don't let your coach tell you different.
Love,
D
D-
When I get home, I'll prove I haven't lost my touch.
-H
H-
I'm looking forward to it. You know I always love your touch.
-D
D -
Bugger the drills. I'll be home in 5.
♥
H
no subject
Date: 2011-09-17 04:55 am (UTC)Re: In which Lord Byron is quite incorrect.
Date: 2011-09-17 05:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-17 06:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-17 06:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-17 06:24 am (UTC)Re: Match of the Day (H/D)
Date: 2011-09-17 06:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-17 06:46 am (UTC)A Surprising Find
Date: 2011-09-17 06:59 am (UTC)She'd been cleaning out Uncle Harry's old room at Grimmauld Place, trying to make it habitable since she'd be living there while attending university. The vase was wedged under the bottom shelf of the bookcase, hidden by a stack of text books.
At first glance she had dismissed the small stack. Reading Aunt Ginny's old love letters to Uncle Harry was not high on her list of things to do. She tossed them on the desk to return to her aunt and put the ugly vase in the box of give-aways.
Two hours later the room was clean and Al was shouting up to her that their parents would be around in an hour for dinner. Rose sat down at the desk to jot down a few notes for the shopping trip they had planned for the next day. She glanced at the bundle on the corner of the desk and something about the handwriting caught her attention.
Rose pulled the ribbon loose and studied the envelope. Someone other than Aunt Ginny had written these letters to Uncle Harry. And he had saved them. Their edges were worn and the paper soft, it was obvious they had been handled over and over again. Who or what could have been so important to him that he'd been unable to part with the letters? There had to be over fifty envelopes. It really wasn't any of her business. How many times had she ended up regretting her nosy ways? More than she could count.
Her curiosity won out in the end. She pulled the letter from the envelope and read the last two lines on the page.
Yours,
DM
Rose looked at the date at the top of the page. June 25, 1998. The summer after the Battle of Hogwarts. Uncle Harry would have been back with Aunt Ginny. So who was DM? There was only one person she could think of and the implications were staggering. Was it possible that Draco Malfoy wrote these letters?
Two minutes later there was no doubt in her mind. Uncle Harry and Draco Malfoy had been involved in a secret relationship. What did this mean?
Her door rattled, presumably from Al beating on it, as he yelled at her to get downstairs and help him cook. She sighed and locked the letters in the bottom drawer of the desk. Whatever information was in them would have to wait until later.
tbc??
no subject
Date: 2011-09-17 07:18 am (UTC)Re: A Surprising Find
Date: 2011-09-17 07:20 am (UTC)