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hpshortfics
Dec. 15th, 2005 09:49 pmicarusDoing holidays at ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
hpshortfics! I've been so impressed with the ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sga_flashfics I've been reading (not to mention the length and completeness accomplished in 38 minutes, wow) that my goal was to write as much as I could for each challenge. These all took a few minutes more than the approved (30 minutes) time.
3 - Goosey's challenge: Twins, Flitwick. Guy Fawkes Day.
Guy Fawkes Day
By Icarus
Flitwick blinked in confusion, his mouth open slightly. "I beg your pardon?" Students sifted around them on their way to their common rooms after dinner, passing to the left and right.
"You'll love it," Fred grinned.
"Guy Fawkes Day is every holiday wrapped up in one," George added.
"Only more dangerous!" There was nothing more terrifying than the utter glee on the Weasley Twins' faces. "We only need a -- a chaperone as it were."
"No work for you," Fred added.
"None at all."
They both nodded as if agreeing with each other had settled it. Which somehow it had, as Professor Flitwick found himself hustled towards the front door of Hogwarts castle.
"What is this holiday about?" he managed weakly, as the door groaned open and they stepped into the cool night air.
"Fire... something," Fred said, his hands spinning in a vague gesture.
"Yes, Muggles worship fire. It's a religious thing," George nodded.
Flitwick frowned. He hadn't heard anything like that in his Muggle studies class, but it had been a long time after all....
"Dad told us all about it," George continued.
Oh. Well, Arthur Weasley's fascination with all things Muggle was legendary, so possibly it was just an obscure sort of... Flitwick glanced up in astonishment as they approached Hagrid's home. In the back yard, tethered to a chain, was the frame of a wooden wheel about four broom-lengths high. "My word."
What on earth was Hagrid doing with a thing like that?
Hagrid emerged from the doorway and stood peering at the twins in what looked like grudging respect. "All right. I see yeh do have permission after all. I jes' was told by Dumbledore that there was to be no fires."
"Fires?" Flitwick asked, but George swept a cloak around his shoulders, saying loudly, "There you are Professor, don't want you to catch cold."
"Ah, yes, thank you," Flitwick said, and Hagrid unlocked the large wheel. Fred and George descended on it and began to roll it across the Hogwarts lawn.
"Thanks for keeping it for us, Hagrid!" they waved cheerily, and Hagrid gave them a doubtful look. "Give us a hand here, will you, Professor?"
"Hmm? Oh, okay," Flitwick said.
The three of them rolled the big wooden wheel to the Quidditch pitch, up the hill, until it came to a stop on the ridge alongside the lake. A wind had picked up, rocking the tall wooden frame lightly. George rubbed his hands together. "Whew! Okay, we have to have it by water in case it gets out of control."
Out of control? Flitwick smelled his hands. They smelled like... a resin of some kind.
Fred patted him companionably on the shoulder. "Just a safety precaution, you'll see. It'll be great!"
Flitwick glanced between them in sudden understanding. "No, wait, fires aren't allowed on--"
But the two boys had already drawn their wands, eyes gleaming up at their handiwork. "Incendio!"
They let out a whoop as the wheel began to turn, rolling backwards down the hill. They leapt out of the way as it passed them on the way to the Quidditch pitch.
High in his tower Dumbledore tipped his head in mild wonder at the sight below.
He'd seen the Weasley twins carrying sticks back and forth to the back of Hagrid's cabin for weeks, looking from here like two busy squirrels preparing for winter. He'd watched as Hagrid apprehended them, chaining up the wooden frame.
Then, apparently, Professor Flitwick wanted a look at it. There were some remarkable Charms woven into the framework, Dumbledore had to admit. The speed which the flaming wheel was now cartwheeling down the hill was quite beyond anything mere momentum could achieve. As Flitwick seemed to be discovering at this very moment, chasing with spells that fell considerably short. It was so difficult to hit a moving target.
Hagrid emerged from his doorway, buckets of water in hand. He ran after it with a startling burst of speed, flinging the water. Quite useless, unfortunately, given it was soaked in resin.
Perhaps he should lend them a hand? Dumbledore considered it a moment, as the glorious wheel began to circle Hogwarts, and students poked their heads out of the windows and pointed.
Oh, far be it from him to abuse his authority, he thought, watching it with a smile.
2 -titti's challenge: Bill/Draco. Christmas.
Armistice and Crystal
By Icarus
It was perfect.
The crystal was Dumarché, and the curtains damask. He had invited all the right sort of people who, although a tad uncertain about the propriety of showing up at Malfoy Manor so soon after Voldemort's sad (though hardly untimely) demise, couldn't resist the sheer curiosity over the first Malfoy Christmas ball since the beginning of the war. Draco had counted on that morbid curiosity shared by all wizards to make his re-entrance into wizarding society.
He watched through the eyes of the portrait in his sitting room, making them all wait. They would stay longer, drink more, feeling warmer and more responsive if he kept them eager for the main course. Which was, of course, himself. He had no illusions that gossip wasn't their primary motivation. But alliances would be made and broken tonight.
Draco strapped on the ceremonial dagger, house-elves tied back his long hair—wearing it like his father would frighten them, and make them forget the boy who couldn't kill Dumbledore. Then he sat in his chair with a view of the ballroom, waiting for their impatience to outweigh their enjoyment of the Manor's many charms. And tapped his fingers.
"More wine, Mr Malfoy?" a house-elf asked. Draco brushed it away in frustration.
The murmur of the crowd on the other side of the wall grew louder, and he wondered if it was time yet. Another peek through portrait gave him a clear view of the punchbowl underneath. Someone in an old-fashioned brown tunic was dipping out a glass. Draco frowned. The tail of red hair was pulled forward over his shoulder, and blue eyes stared knowingly, directly into Draco's. Bill Weasley had not been on the guestlist.
Bill stepped aside and leaned against the portrait. With his hand over the eyeholes.
"Weasley…" Draco hissed. He's already had time to regret sleeping with the man. It wasn't fair he came back to haunt him now. Not today.
"I couldn't miss your 'coming out' party," Bill murmured, voice pitched intimately to carry through the portrait. Though he must have looked like he was talking to himself. "Or is it your debutante ball?"
"Bill," Draco said in his most winning voice. "I'm surprised you could make it. How's your wife?"
He got a little satisfaction in watching Bill's fist curl.
"Quite fine, thank you." Draco heard him take a swallow of punch. "In fact, she and I were just discussing you this morning."
Draco watched his hopes for blackmail evaporate. He leaned his arm against the picture frame and said, "All right, Weasley. What do you want?"
As father always said, everyone has a price.
It was not a half-hour later that the host of the Annual Christmas Ball made his appearance. His robes were resplendent and wand tucked neatly into its sheath at his belt. If his smile seemed a little tight, it was only natural given this was his first ball. No doubt Draco Malfoy wanted it to go smoothly.
People leaned in his direction, whispering amongst themselves. He paused and spoke with a number of old Malfoy friends – and, not incidentally, creditors -- shaking hands, clapping shoulders, before making his way across the floor.
To a red-haired figure wearing unfashionable robes and a jaunty smile. Cameras flashed.
"Bill, how good to see you again!" Draco shook his hand warmly.
It wasn't the alliance Draco had intended, but these days he'd take what he could get.
1 -amanuensis1's challenge: Snape/Pettigrew, New Year's Eve
A New World
By Icarus
Severus Snape stared over the top of his cup of mulled cider, eyes focused on some unseen point beyond the fog of his breath on the darkened window. The chime of his family's grandfather clock struck twelve, filling the silent sitting room with noise, then fell still.
Muggles still had their Christmas lights up. Plastic reindeer and glowing fat Santa Clauses. The distant cheer of a party could be heard through the thin walls of his home. His 'ancestral hall.' Severus bitterly remembered Lucius Malfoy's first and only visit here, the sneer and slightly helpless glance around for the expected house-elf to take his coat.
Figures darker than the night staggered through the slush, laughing drunkenly. Muggles, he assured himself. That's what he thought of them now. Not his neighbors or anything related to him. Fat, useless creatures with no class or breeding, much like the cheap ornaments they stuck in their windows. Nothing to do with him. His windows were dark, hiding… secrets they could never imagine in their wildest dreams. He had… bigger plans after midnight. A slow smile crept across his face.
Shoes clicked down the steps behind him. "Severus?"
"Yes mother," Severus said, in a carefully cultivated accent his former friend's made fun of.
"What are doing sitting in the dark?" Her hand was on the banister, her hair tied up in a tight bun.
"Nothing," Severus said. Yet.
"Well, go to bed," she said, scowling. "It's past midnight already."
"Mam, it's New Year's!" Severus complained, turning towards her. She gave him a steady stare.
"What are you drinking?"
"Just cider," Severus said.
She sighed, and relented. "You can stay up for another hour, but then to bed with you." Severus nodded absently, already dismissing her from his mind as she climbed the stairs. She'd take a Muggle sleeping pill and be out for hours.
At half-past, the expected knock came. Twice on the window frame. Severus pulled the window-frame open for his new conspirators. They were going to rid the world of Muggles. And their stupid parties.
Or conspirator. Just one fat wizard sat outside his window, crouching fearfully.
"Hurry up, let me in!" he said in a stage whisper.
Peter fucking Pettigrew.
hpshortfics! I've been so impressed with the sga_flashfics I've been reading (not to mention the length and completeness accomplished in 38 minutes, wow) that my goal was to write as much as I could for each challenge. These all took a few minutes more than the approved (30 minutes) time.3 - Goosey's challenge: Twins, Flitwick. Guy Fawkes Day.
Guy Fawkes Day
By Icarus
Flitwick blinked in confusion, his mouth open slightly. "I beg your pardon?" Students sifted around them on their way to their common rooms after dinner, passing to the left and right.
"You'll love it," Fred grinned.
"Guy Fawkes Day is every holiday wrapped up in one," George added.
"Only more dangerous!" There was nothing more terrifying than the utter glee on the Weasley Twins' faces. "We only need a -- a chaperone as it were."
"No work for you," Fred added.
"None at all."
They both nodded as if agreeing with each other had settled it. Which somehow it had, as Professor Flitwick found himself hustled towards the front door of Hogwarts castle.
"What is this holiday about?" he managed weakly, as the door groaned open and they stepped into the cool night air.
"Fire... something," Fred said, his hands spinning in a vague gesture.
"Yes, Muggles worship fire. It's a religious thing," George nodded.
Flitwick frowned. He hadn't heard anything like that in his Muggle studies class, but it had been a long time after all....
"Dad told us all about it," George continued.
Oh. Well, Arthur Weasley's fascination with all things Muggle was legendary, so possibly it was just an obscure sort of... Flitwick glanced up in astonishment as they approached Hagrid's home. In the back yard, tethered to a chain, was the frame of a wooden wheel about four broom-lengths high. "My word."
What on earth was Hagrid doing with a thing like that?
Hagrid emerged from the doorway and stood peering at the twins in what looked like grudging respect. "All right. I see yeh do have permission after all. I jes' was told by Dumbledore that there was to be no fires."
"Fires?" Flitwick asked, but George swept a cloak around his shoulders, saying loudly, "There you are Professor, don't want you to catch cold."
"Ah, yes, thank you," Flitwick said, and Hagrid unlocked the large wheel. Fred and George descended on it and began to roll it across the Hogwarts lawn.
"Thanks for keeping it for us, Hagrid!" they waved cheerily, and Hagrid gave them a doubtful look. "Give us a hand here, will you, Professor?"
"Hmm? Oh, okay," Flitwick said.
The three of them rolled the big wooden wheel to the Quidditch pitch, up the hill, until it came to a stop on the ridge alongside the lake. A wind had picked up, rocking the tall wooden frame lightly. George rubbed his hands together. "Whew! Okay, we have to have it by water in case it gets out of control."
Out of control? Flitwick smelled his hands. They smelled like... a resin of some kind.
Fred patted him companionably on the shoulder. "Just a safety precaution, you'll see. It'll be great!"
Flitwick glanced between them in sudden understanding. "No, wait, fires aren't allowed on--"
But the two boys had already drawn their wands, eyes gleaming up at their handiwork. "Incendio!"
They let out a whoop as the wheel began to turn, rolling backwards down the hill. They leapt out of the way as it passed them on the way to the Quidditch pitch.
High in his tower Dumbledore tipped his head in mild wonder at the sight below.
He'd seen the Weasley twins carrying sticks back and forth to the back of Hagrid's cabin for weeks, looking from here like two busy squirrels preparing for winter. He'd watched as Hagrid apprehended them, chaining up the wooden frame.
Then, apparently, Professor Flitwick wanted a look at it. There were some remarkable Charms woven into the framework, Dumbledore had to admit. The speed which the flaming wheel was now cartwheeling down the hill was quite beyond anything mere momentum could achieve. As Flitwick seemed to be discovering at this very moment, chasing with spells that fell considerably short. It was so difficult to hit a moving target.
Hagrid emerged from his doorway, buckets of water in hand. He ran after it with a startling burst of speed, flinging the water. Quite useless, unfortunately, given it was soaked in resin.
Perhaps he should lend them a hand? Dumbledore considered it a moment, as the glorious wheel began to circle Hogwarts, and students poked their heads out of the windows and pointed.
Oh, far be it from him to abuse his authority, he thought, watching it with a smile.
2 -
titti's challenge: Bill/Draco. Christmas. Armistice and Crystal
By Icarus
It was perfect.
The crystal was Dumarché, and the curtains damask. He had invited all the right sort of people who, although a tad uncertain about the propriety of showing up at Malfoy Manor so soon after Voldemort's sad (though hardly untimely) demise, couldn't resist the sheer curiosity over the first Malfoy Christmas ball since the beginning of the war. Draco had counted on that morbid curiosity shared by all wizards to make his re-entrance into wizarding society.
He watched through the eyes of the portrait in his sitting room, making them all wait. They would stay longer, drink more, feeling warmer and more responsive if he kept them eager for the main course. Which was, of course, himself. He had no illusions that gossip wasn't their primary motivation. But alliances would be made and broken tonight.
Draco strapped on the ceremonial dagger, house-elves tied back his long hair—wearing it like his father would frighten them, and make them forget the boy who couldn't kill Dumbledore. Then he sat in his chair with a view of the ballroom, waiting for their impatience to outweigh their enjoyment of the Manor's many charms. And tapped his fingers.
"More wine, Mr Malfoy?" a house-elf asked. Draco brushed it away in frustration.
The murmur of the crowd on the other side of the wall grew louder, and he wondered if it was time yet. Another peek through portrait gave him a clear view of the punchbowl underneath. Someone in an old-fashioned brown tunic was dipping out a glass. Draco frowned. The tail of red hair was pulled forward over his shoulder, and blue eyes stared knowingly, directly into Draco's. Bill Weasley had not been on the guestlist.
Bill stepped aside and leaned against the portrait. With his hand over the eyeholes.
"Weasley…" Draco hissed. He's already had time to regret sleeping with the man. It wasn't fair he came back to haunt him now. Not today.
"I couldn't miss your 'coming out' party," Bill murmured, voice pitched intimately to carry through the portrait. Though he must have looked like he was talking to himself. "Or is it your debutante ball?"
"Bill," Draco said in his most winning voice. "I'm surprised you could make it. How's your wife?"
He got a little satisfaction in watching Bill's fist curl.
"Quite fine, thank you." Draco heard him take a swallow of punch. "In fact, she and I were just discussing you this morning."
Draco watched his hopes for blackmail evaporate. He leaned his arm against the picture frame and said, "All right, Weasley. What do you want?"
As father always said, everyone has a price.
It was not a half-hour later that the host of the Annual Christmas Ball made his appearance. His robes were resplendent and wand tucked neatly into its sheath at his belt. If his smile seemed a little tight, it was only natural given this was his first ball. No doubt Draco Malfoy wanted it to go smoothly.
People leaned in his direction, whispering amongst themselves. He paused and spoke with a number of old Malfoy friends – and, not incidentally, creditors -- shaking hands, clapping shoulders, before making his way across the floor.
To a red-haired figure wearing unfashionable robes and a jaunty smile. Cameras flashed.
"Bill, how good to see you again!" Draco shook his hand warmly.
It wasn't the alliance Draco had intended, but these days he'd take what he could get.
1 -
amanuensis1's challenge: Snape/Pettigrew, New Year's EveA New World
By Icarus
Severus Snape stared over the top of his cup of mulled cider, eyes focused on some unseen point beyond the fog of his breath on the darkened window. The chime of his family's grandfather clock struck twelve, filling the silent sitting room with noise, then fell still.
Muggles still had their Christmas lights up. Plastic reindeer and glowing fat Santa Clauses. The distant cheer of a party could be heard through the thin walls of his home. His 'ancestral hall.' Severus bitterly remembered Lucius Malfoy's first and only visit here, the sneer and slightly helpless glance around for the expected house-elf to take his coat.
Figures darker than the night staggered through the slush, laughing drunkenly. Muggles, he assured himself. That's what he thought of them now. Not his neighbors or anything related to him. Fat, useless creatures with no class or breeding, much like the cheap ornaments they stuck in their windows. Nothing to do with him. His windows were dark, hiding… secrets they could never imagine in their wildest dreams. He had… bigger plans after midnight. A slow smile crept across his face.
Shoes clicked down the steps behind him. "Severus?"
"Yes mother," Severus said, in a carefully cultivated accent his former friend's made fun of.
"What are doing sitting in the dark?" Her hand was on the banister, her hair tied up in a tight bun.
"Nothing," Severus said. Yet.
"Well, go to bed," she said, scowling. "It's past midnight already."
"Mam, it's New Year's!" Severus complained, turning towards her. She gave him a steady stare.
"What are you drinking?"
"Just cider," Severus said.
She sighed, and relented. "You can stay up for another hour, but then to bed with you." Severus nodded absently, already dismissing her from his mind as she climbed the stairs. She'd take a Muggle sleeping pill and be out for hours.
At half-past, the expected knock came. Twice on the window frame. Severus pulled the window-frame open for his new conspirators. They were going to rid the world of Muggles. And their stupid parties.
Or conspirator. Just one fat wizard sat outside his window, crouching fearfully.
"Hurry up, let me in!" he said in a stage whisper.
Peter fucking Pettigrew.
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no subject
Date: 2005-12-16 08:53 am (UTC)Guy Fawkes Day had me quivering with mirth. (It's late and I really can't laugh as loudly as I'd like.)
Nicely done, on all of them.
no subject
Date: 2005-12-16 08:16 pm (UTC)Icarus
no subject
Date: 2005-12-18 11:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-12-19 12:47 am (UTC)Icarus