QP - oh man, drabbles!
Dec. 4th, 2005 10:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jateshiIt's been ages - utterly, simply AGES - since I've taken part in ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
queerditch_pub. So enjoy yourselves, luvs, because I actually wrote drabbles tonight.
Percy/Ron - Big Brother is Watching
He always felt like he was under a screen, whenever Percy came by to visit. Hermione once had gone on about a Muggle book - or maybe it was one of their moving pictures she'd talked about, since she'd mentioned that it was also a movie - where everything was under observation. It was done through screens of the tellies, and through microphones (whatever those were, the best he'd come up with was they were like Extendible Ears), and through people snitching on each other.
Rather like how the whole Wizarding World was now, with You-Know-Who back. People turned their parents in to get interrogated by Aurors for making a remark seven years ago about how some Pureblood nonsense was more understandable than the current political crap spouted about. But he had something worse than them - he had his brother, his big brother, sliding his glasses down the bridge of his nose and asking, in a snooty voice, some question or other.
He was always behind corners, a fake but oddly-pleasant and genial smile on his face. He carried a book, tucked under his arm, and a black briefcase to look more respectable. He looked down on papers not the Daily Prophet, he argued if the politics of the table weren't the ones he supported, and he backed the Ministry fervently. He thought it was wrong to speak out against the Ministry or their laws and he sometimes had ink stains on his fingers, when Ron saw him, and an owl would be winging off someplace, carrying a thick packet of papers.
Sirius/Regulus: Gothic novel
AU, set in Regency England
Sirius considered himself a learned man; he stayed up with the London Times, made sure he was constantly attired in the first stare of fashion, and attended all of the proper parties. He wore his family pride like a mantle, settled well on his shoulders, and took his little brother under his wing when he finally graduated from Cambridge. Like Sirius himself - and every male of the Black family for as long as the title of "Lord Black" had been part of the realm's most valued peers - Regulus had attended Eton and then proceeded to Cambridge.
Watching his brother out of the corner of his eye, Sirius found a pleased, altogether uncharacteristic smile on his lips. Regulus had done a wonderful job of starting his reputation, helped by their family looks of ebony hair and soft, silver eyes. Many women had thrown themselves at Sirius based on his features alone and if the letters from the Dean were to be believed, Regulus had lived up to his expectations and turned into the most debonair of rakes. He had copied Sirius' easy smirk, his grace with conversation, and the ability to manipulate women which seemed to be second nature - he had taken those skills and although not as refined as Sirius was, it would only be a matter of time before Regulus was embroiled in brawls and duels for some maid's honour or another.
Maybe even some maiden's precious virtue? Sirius, after all, had lived up to being "Lord Black" quite admirably, and he held the same lofty goals for his brother. His precious, seductive little brother. Sirius was well aware that Regulus was his own person, of course, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to be taught the proper way to uphold the family's honour.
It started on a black night in a setting more befitting a lady's French romance novel than a simple room, needed to instruct his brother one step further. He'd sent a note over to Regulus' lodgings and his messenger had replied that of course his brother would attend him this evening.
Regulus had looked only mildly unsettled when Sirius had locked the door behind his brother, tucking the key into his vest's breast pocket. When Sirius had ordered Regulus to sit, his tone commanding and allowing the younger Black no chance to voice his protests, he had begun to look more apprehensive. When Sirius had run a hand through Regulus' hair, his voice whispering softly against the skin of his younger brother's ear, Regulus had stiffened.
All of him had stiffened, in fact. Sirius smiled winningly then, stating softly that, after all, Regulus was living off of his graciousness. Sirius could, if Regulus wasn't prepared to obey the family's rules, cut him off entirely. And then Regulus had bit back a curse when his head had been wrenched around and tried to refuse the possessive kiss Sirius started. But, just as Sirius knew he would, he gave in.
Family loyalty and honour, after all, were the back-bones of a good Black's upbringing.
Lucius/Harry: "It's a classic novel."
Everything has a beginning, a middle, and an end. For Harry, his beginning came in a prophecy given by a witch during an interview with a school Headmaster. For Lucius, his beginning came when his father told him, a proud timbre in his voice, that he was destined for great things.
"If we're to enter into this arrangement, Mr Potter, you would have to agree to a few things."
Harry watched Lucius' mouth closely, his eyes reading the words far more effectively than his ears would interpret them. Not that he was, in any way, hearing impaired - it was more that Lucius Malfoy's cultured voice consistently knocked all thoughts from his mind, leaving him with a pulse in his groin and a hardness in his trousers.
A sharp rap as Lucius snapped the butt of his cane on the ground, Harry starting and looking up into the elder Malfoy's eyes with a light flush of shame colouring his cheeks. "I'm sorry Mr Malfoy, my mind wandered." He tried to convey the utmost contrition with his voice and manner, emulating the way he'd seen wizard carry themselves in society.
There was a flash, a movement which Harry started to react to, before a hand gripped his chin firmly, nails digging through the lambskin gloves Lucius wore to begin imprinting crescent moons onto his skin. He was forced to stare directly back at Lucius now, Harry feeling his body tensed and taunt as a wound-up spring as Lucius once more spoke.
"As I was saying, Mr Potter - if we are to enter into this arrangement, you would have to agree to a few things." Lucius' silver eyes narrowed, nails digging deeper into Harry's skin. "A new addendum would be that you will pay attention to me when I am speaking. You may have the power, but you have no training in how to control society, let alone yourself. While my estimation of you has risen with your contact," Lucius had released his firm grip on Harry's chin, the boy - no, man, since time had ushered him through the final adolescent years and into the first breaths of young manhood quite wonderfully - standing in place.
Everything has a middle, although Harry debated whether or not his middle was his years at Hogwarts or more simply the final battle. When he had watched the Dark Lord fall, he thought it was an end.
It took standing before the Wizengamont to realize it wasn't anything so simple as the end of his troubles. He was in charge now, and he trusted no one to be able to advise him without an motive. Lucius had watched, never expecting the owl which had carried the missive from the Hero of the Wizarding World to drop the non-descript envelope near his morning platter. And then he had come, meeting Harry to see just what, exactly, he wanted from him.
"I understand, Lucius," Harry replied firmly, his expression having remained a fixed mask since first setting eyes on the former Death Eater. And he did, Lucius thought to himself, as Harry had smoothly taken his cane away without him having even noticed, drawing out Lucius' wand.
This wasn't an ending either, Lucius decided as he took the boy under his wing. Now there was simply a new plot twist, just like a perfectly written classic novel contained.
Sirius/Regulus: Tell Tale Heart
Sirius loved staying at James' house. It was much better than his home - there weren't odd spots on the walls, smudges on the carpet which he'd ask Bellatrix about and she'd only smirk. And even worse was the last visit he'd taken back home, when he'd spent some time with his brother.
He'd have sworn there was a heartbeat coming from one of the loose floorboards they used to hide candy and treats in. He didn't want to open it, not even when Regulus had run off to chase 'Cissa out for levitating her headless doll into the room to start knocking his books over, and he didn't want to find out what exactly it was.
Then the years passed, and he found out Regulus was dead. Death Eaters died left and right, and then he was going to go insane in Azkaban, all because Peter was more loved than he had been. More trustworthy - and he was the rat, literally and figuratively. And then when he got out of Azkaban, and found his godson, and then began to work more for the Order after the Dark Lord returned, he started to hear it in Grimmauld Place again.
He passed Regulus' room again, paused on the threshold when he heard it as clearly as he had back when he was a schoolboy. A slow, steady heartbeat, resounding through the wood and his feet. He could feel the odd pulse beat sink into his very skin, calling something inside his soul and forcing his hand, turning the doorknob and stepping inside the room for the first time in more than a decade.
A week into July, long after Sirius had fallen through the Veil in the Ministry of Magic, the heartbeat picked up, a warm hand closing around it and lifting the fresh-looking human heart from it's place under the floorboards. Silver eyes stared at it, whispering an incantation that would have set off alarms at the Ministry of Magic had they not already been occupied by the string of constant Death Eater attacks.
queerditch_pub. So enjoy yourselves, luvs, because I actually wrote drabbles tonight.Percy/Ron - Big Brother is Watching
He always felt like he was under a screen, whenever Percy came by to visit. Hermione once had gone on about a Muggle book - or maybe it was one of their moving pictures she'd talked about, since she'd mentioned that it was also a movie - where everything was under observation. It was done through screens of the tellies, and through microphones (whatever those were, the best he'd come up with was they were like Extendible Ears), and through people snitching on each other.
Rather like how the whole Wizarding World was now, with You-Know-Who back. People turned their parents in to get interrogated by Aurors for making a remark seven years ago about how some Pureblood nonsense was more understandable than the current political crap spouted about. But he had something worse than them - he had his brother, his big brother, sliding his glasses down the bridge of his nose and asking, in a snooty voice, some question or other.
He was always behind corners, a fake but oddly-pleasant and genial smile on his face. He carried a book, tucked under his arm, and a black briefcase to look more respectable. He looked down on papers not the Daily Prophet, he argued if the politics of the table weren't the ones he supported, and he backed the Ministry fervently. He thought it was wrong to speak out against the Ministry or their laws and he sometimes had ink stains on his fingers, when Ron saw him, and an owl would be winging off someplace, carrying a thick packet of papers.
Sirius/Regulus: Gothic novel
AU, set in Regency England
Sirius considered himself a learned man; he stayed up with the London Times, made sure he was constantly attired in the first stare of fashion, and attended all of the proper parties. He wore his family pride like a mantle, settled well on his shoulders, and took his little brother under his wing when he finally graduated from Cambridge. Like Sirius himself - and every male of the Black family for as long as the title of "Lord Black" had been part of the realm's most valued peers - Regulus had attended Eton and then proceeded to Cambridge.
Watching his brother out of the corner of his eye, Sirius found a pleased, altogether uncharacteristic smile on his lips. Regulus had done a wonderful job of starting his reputation, helped by their family looks of ebony hair and soft, silver eyes. Many women had thrown themselves at Sirius based on his features alone and if the letters from the Dean were to be believed, Regulus had lived up to his expectations and turned into the most debonair of rakes. He had copied Sirius' easy smirk, his grace with conversation, and the ability to manipulate women which seemed to be second nature - he had taken those skills and although not as refined as Sirius was, it would only be a matter of time before Regulus was embroiled in brawls and duels for some maid's honour or another.
Maybe even some maiden's precious virtue? Sirius, after all, had lived up to being "Lord Black" quite admirably, and he held the same lofty goals for his brother. His precious, seductive little brother. Sirius was well aware that Regulus was his own person, of course, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to be taught the proper way to uphold the family's honour.
It started on a black night in a setting more befitting a lady's French romance novel than a simple room, needed to instruct his brother one step further. He'd sent a note over to Regulus' lodgings and his messenger had replied that of course his brother would attend him this evening.
Regulus had looked only mildly unsettled when Sirius had locked the door behind his brother, tucking the key into his vest's breast pocket. When Sirius had ordered Regulus to sit, his tone commanding and allowing the younger Black no chance to voice his protests, he had begun to look more apprehensive. When Sirius had run a hand through Regulus' hair, his voice whispering softly against the skin of his younger brother's ear, Regulus had stiffened.
All of him had stiffened, in fact. Sirius smiled winningly then, stating softly that, after all, Regulus was living off of his graciousness. Sirius could, if Regulus wasn't prepared to obey the family's rules, cut him off entirely. And then Regulus had bit back a curse when his head had been wrenched around and tried to refuse the possessive kiss Sirius started. But, just as Sirius knew he would, he gave in.
Family loyalty and honour, after all, were the back-bones of a good Black's upbringing.
Lucius/Harry: "It's a classic novel."
Everything has a beginning, a middle, and an end. For Harry, his beginning came in a prophecy given by a witch during an interview with a school Headmaster. For Lucius, his beginning came when his father told him, a proud timbre in his voice, that he was destined for great things.
"If we're to enter into this arrangement, Mr Potter, you would have to agree to a few things."
Harry watched Lucius' mouth closely, his eyes reading the words far more effectively than his ears would interpret them. Not that he was, in any way, hearing impaired - it was more that Lucius Malfoy's cultured voice consistently knocked all thoughts from his mind, leaving him with a pulse in his groin and a hardness in his trousers.
A sharp rap as Lucius snapped the butt of his cane on the ground, Harry starting and looking up into the elder Malfoy's eyes with a light flush of shame colouring his cheeks. "I'm sorry Mr Malfoy, my mind wandered." He tried to convey the utmost contrition with his voice and manner, emulating the way he'd seen wizard carry themselves in society.
There was a flash, a movement which Harry started to react to, before a hand gripped his chin firmly, nails digging through the lambskin gloves Lucius wore to begin imprinting crescent moons onto his skin. He was forced to stare directly back at Lucius now, Harry feeling his body tensed and taunt as a wound-up spring as Lucius once more spoke.
"As I was saying, Mr Potter - if we are to enter into this arrangement, you would have to agree to a few things." Lucius' silver eyes narrowed, nails digging deeper into Harry's skin. "A new addendum would be that you will pay attention to me when I am speaking. You may have the power, but you have no training in how to control society, let alone yourself. While my estimation of you has risen with your contact," Lucius had released his firm grip on Harry's chin, the boy - no, man, since time had ushered him through the final adolescent years and into the first breaths of young manhood quite wonderfully - standing in place.
Everything has a middle, although Harry debated whether or not his middle was his years at Hogwarts or more simply the final battle. When he had watched the Dark Lord fall, he thought it was an end.
It took standing before the Wizengamont to realize it wasn't anything so simple as the end of his troubles. He was in charge now, and he trusted no one to be able to advise him without an motive. Lucius had watched, never expecting the owl which had carried the missive from the Hero of the Wizarding World to drop the non-descript envelope near his morning platter. And then he had come, meeting Harry to see just what, exactly, he wanted from him.
"I understand, Lucius," Harry replied firmly, his expression having remained a fixed mask since first setting eyes on the former Death Eater. And he did, Lucius thought to himself, as Harry had smoothly taken his cane away without him having even noticed, drawing out Lucius' wand.
This wasn't an ending either, Lucius decided as he took the boy under his wing. Now there was simply a new plot twist, just like a perfectly written classic novel contained.
Sirius/Regulus: Tell Tale Heart
Sirius loved staying at James' house. It was much better than his home - there weren't odd spots on the walls, smudges on the carpet which he'd ask Bellatrix about and she'd only smirk. And even worse was the last visit he'd taken back home, when he'd spent some time with his brother.
He'd have sworn there was a heartbeat coming from one of the loose floorboards they used to hide candy and treats in. He didn't want to open it, not even when Regulus had run off to chase 'Cissa out for levitating her headless doll into the room to start knocking his books over, and he didn't want to find out what exactly it was.
Then the years passed, and he found out Regulus was dead. Death Eaters died left and right, and then he was going to go insane in Azkaban, all because Peter was more loved than he had been. More trustworthy - and he was the rat, literally and figuratively. And then when he got out of Azkaban, and found his godson, and then began to work more for the Order after the Dark Lord returned, he started to hear it in Grimmauld Place again.
He passed Regulus' room again, paused on the threshold when he heard it as clearly as he had back when he was a schoolboy. A slow, steady heartbeat, resounding through the wood and his feet. He could feel the odd pulse beat sink into his very skin, calling something inside his soul and forcing his hand, turning the doorknob and stepping inside the room for the first time in more than a decade.
A week into July, long after Sirius had fallen through the Veil in the Ministry of Magic, the heartbeat picked up, a warm hand closing around it and lifting the fresh-looking human heart from it's place under the floorboards. Silver eyes stared at it, whispering an incantation that would have set off alarms at the Ministry of Magic had they not already been occupied by the string of constant Death Eater attacks.
