100% slytherin: harry potter drabbles
in order of writing - newest at the top
Characters: Sorting Hat
Notes: hp100 Challenge #57: Alternate Sorting
*Hmmm, not particularly brave, except where it comes to your own self-interest, are you? Definitely not Gryffindor.
Too impulsive and temperamental to be subtle. And a surprising – some might say disappointing - lack of ambition towards anything, young man. So not Slytherin.
You are quite clever, but you aren’t particularly interested in learning for the joy of it. An unacceptable attitude for Ravenclaw, I’m afraid.
Ahhh, but you are intensely – even, one could say, blindly – loyal. And you so desperately want to please your family.*
The Sorting Hat’s
judgement was merely confirmed in everyone’s minds when little Draco Malfoy
Characters: Pansy, Dumbledore
Rating: PG-13 - character death.
Notes: hp100 Challenge #53: Dumbledore's Last Words
Walking away from the battlefield wasn't so much a matter of actually walking, as it was wavering on unsteady legs. Of course the two-inch spike-heels didn't help, but Pansy had decided if she was going out, she was going out in style.
A loud moan had
her whipping round, wand pointed. It was the old fool; bloody and singed and
obviously at death’s door. He was mumbling something, something about
riddles and Potter. Pansy knew her duty, but she was just too damn exhausted.
So she stood there debating whether or not the Blahniks were irreversibly ruined
until Dumbledore finally - thank Merlin! - stopped breathing.
Notes: hp100 Challenge #42: WIP cookies. Unused snippet from my story Aconite
There was no contact
during daytime - their liaison was a secret strung together by threads of silence,
and limned by the waxing or waning moon. In the darkness Draco shone pale and
cold until touched. Then he burned. White heat, white flame. Remus was driven
to restrain that fire with his mouth and hands, until the body he impaled writhed
frantically, the mouth he devoured cried incoherently. And Draco was his. Shadows
on the skin, on those slender hips, marked by him. Red stains suckled upon the
bowed nape. His. In darkness, Draco belonged to Remus. At least until dawn.
Notes: hp100 Challenge #42: WIP cookies. Another unused snippet from my story Aconite
There were words spoken the first time he returned to his quarters and found Draco waiting for him. Heated words, words of rejection and protest and denial.
To no avail.
Denial was something Draco neither practised himself nor cared to indulge Remus’s taste for. Protest was something Draco nonchalantly dismissed as idiotic Gryffindor ethics. But rejection; rejection was something Remus quickly realized Draco would never forgive.
So denial was quelled,
protest muffled, and rejection forestalled. And perhaps sometime, far or near,
Draco would discard him, or he Draco, or the two of them secede; but that was
for another day.
know how this goes...
Pairing: Draco/Harry [rated PG-13]
hp100 Challenge #41: Birthdays
Sunday morning was too loud, too bright and all together too hungover.
In essence, a normal Sunday morning.
Something was different about this one though. Unfortunately it appeared his memory had disapparated off to parts unknown, probably in company with his dignity and a large quantity of Fire Whiskey.
It filtered into his consciousness that the lurid red he was seeing wasn’t the inside of his eyelids, but a bed canopy.
A dark head popped up beside him.
“Good morning!” chirped Potter like a manic budgerigar. “How’s the birthday boy feeling today?”
A horrified moan
had to suffice instead of Avada Kedavra.
On a Winter’s
hp100 Challenge #40: War
Nott’s letter (or rather, peremptory summons, he thought sourly) lay atop the blaring headlines of the Daily Prophet; both read, discarded.
He looked up from the porridge he was listlessly prodding around his bowl, catching The-Boy-who-Lived-to-be-a-Pain-in-the-Arse eying him with cold judgement, the Weasel glaring in best ‘First Target for Avada Kedavra’ fashion.
He glanced over to the teacher’s table. Dumbledore smiled at him, oozing warm concern, the promise of acceptance radiating from his face. Snape just stared, blankly opaque.
He weighed his options, made his decision.
Fuck them all. I hear California’s nice this time of year.
hp100 Challenge #38: War
Undeclared war had already deprived her of a husband, a home, and a fortune. Outright war was not going to deprive her of one of her few remaining possessions.
So she set the wards, brewed the potion, and cast the spell; imbued them all with an old, deep magic - one more subtle and powerful than any Unforgivable thought up by man.
And she did not regret, not even at the look of shocked betrayal in closing silver eyes as he turned slowly towards her, red apple falling from a pale hand,
Sleep, my little prince,” was all she said.
hp100 Challenge #38: War
Alleviation of torment registered slowly in his mind. The fact they came less often to the cell where he crouched, shuddering.
The corridors sang like a choir of the damned; sobs of despair, screams of madness echoing down clammy stone passages. Returning lucidity told him what this meant. The Dark Lord was warring and soon he would come to claim what was his. And he would bring with him freedom.
And blood and pain and a night sky illuminated by hellish green.
The Dementors flocked back, attracted by his happiness.
Characters: Malfoys, Weasleys
For circe_tigana's 'Pirates of the Caribbean' Quest to return each one of the 882 plundered pieces of Aztec Gold to the Cave at Isla de Muerta, in 100 word drabbles.
Her mother swooned and took to her bed in a fit of the vapours.
Her father suggested, in his coldest tones, that she reconsider her choice. He would rather see her dead than married to a Weasley.
But once a Malfoy set their mind upon a course, there was no dissuading them from it.
So she cajoled and sulked, and she charmed and manipulated in her most sweetly devious manner, until eventually her parents relented. And on her wedding day her father bestowed upon her a magnificent dower of coins, most unique amongst them a piece of charmed Aztec gold.
Merry Christmas Potter
Characters: Draco, Harry
hp100 Challenge #36: Magical Beasts. Info here.
Draco shrank into the darkness of the alcove, away from the circle of light cast by Filch’s lantern. The caretaker lingered momentarily, then his footsteps echoed away, conversation drifting backwards,
“Come on Mrs. Norris, there’s Christmas cake to be eaten, and nasty children to… ”
Damn, that had been close. Sneaking around would be so much easier with an Invisibility Cloak. Rumour had it Scarhead owned one. He smiled, thinking of the gift of a cloak he’d just left in the sleeping Potter’s bedroom.
Though it wouldn’t so much be Harry Potter wearing the cloak, as the Lethifold wearing Harry Potter.
Characters: Draco, Hermione, Ron, Harry, Greg
hp100 Challenge #6: When Pigs Fly and also challenge #11 New Spell. Whoohoo! Two for the price of one.
“Hermione, my beloved flower of witchly womanhood, let me hold that door for you.”
Draco opened said fixture with a flourish and courteously bowed the astonished Hermione through. As Ron passed he punched him chummily on the shoulder,
“Hey pal, meet you at The Three Broomsticks tomorrow for a butterbeer and yarn about the Cannon’s latest brilliant game?”
Ron scurried through, alarmed. Harry warily approached the exit. The class’s sniggers silenced as Draco plastered Harry to the door, pashing him fervently.
Goyle winced. Malfoy was going to absolutely kill him when the effects of Greg’s miscast Psyche Reversus wore off.
Character: Draco POV
hp100 Challenge #5: Patronus
Author's Notes: “'The Patronus is a kind of positive force, a projection of the very things that the Dementor feeds upon - hope, happiness, the desire to survive.” quote from PoA
Happy thought. Happy thought. Happy fucking thought.
It just isn’t bloodywell working. My mind’s as empty as Longbottom’s.
Father. Father in one of his good moods, listening indulgently.
Not something that’s likely to happen again, with him in Azkab…
OK, not a happy thought.
Flying. Flying makes me happy. Speed and height and danger and control. King of the World.
Except for constantly losing at Quidditch and…
Thanks Potter, just kill my happy thought.
No. I’m damned if I’ll succumb to this petty leech. I will survive. I will. No bargain-basement horror is going to… oh.
Characters: Draco, Hermione
hp100 Challenge #4: Dead Letter
Apparently I get to write one letter before passing on to 'Greater Things' and I've chosen you as my lucky recipient. No, this isn't an apology,
Dumbledork wouldn't be that deluded, merely a friendly notice you should
get your snub nose out of those books and wonder what your
husband (though I shudder to think of the Weasel married, even to you,
and breeding yet more redheaded blights on society) and Scarhead
Potter really get up to on their 'boys nights' out. Or perhaps I should
have chosen Pott yer as my 'corespondent'.
Draco Malfoy [deceased]
Characters: Draco, Lucius
hp100 Challenge #3: Expelled
The last view he had of Hogwarts before the Portkey swirled them away was of Dumbledore’s disappointed face. Then the forest green of his father’s study replaced it. Lucius looked sternly at him,
“Well, Draco... ”
The temptation to spout excuses was almost overwhelming, but self-preservation reduced him to a single meek query,
Lucius grinned, a blaze of predatory delight,
“Congratulations! I don’t think a Malfoy’s ever been expelled for doing that to an entire school before! Though how many times must I tell you – ‘don’t get caught’? Now, about Durmstrang…”
Whew. It was going to be all right after all.
hp100 Challenge #2: Mirror of Erised
He knew what it was as soon as he read the inscription, and despite all the childhood warnings he’d been given about enchanted mirrors and suchlike, couldn’t resist looking in.
Just a quick peek, he told himself. Just to see.
And Erised showed him nothing startling - his father; free, untroubled, smiling and resplendent in his finest robes, with an arm around Draco’s shoulders, saying,
“I’m proud of you, son.”
His heart’s desire was little surprise to him, no matter how improbable achieving it now seemed. No, what caught him unawares was the disquiet thought that perhaps it always had been.
hp100 Challenge #1: First Times
Draco stumbled, white and shaking, to the bench, descending with more urgency than grace.
“That was revenge, wasn’t it? For our school years. And all the horrible things I did.”
“I just thought you’d like to...” Harry’s explanation evaporated under Draco’s venomous glare, which promised future repercussions. When he was able, that was.
“Oh Merlin, I think I’m going to be sick.”
Words wafted up from between jean-clad knees as Draco attempted to quell his stomach’s rebellion,
“Trusting that mechanical monstrosity. Muggles are insane.”
Damn. Harry sighed. Looked like rollercoaster rides could definitely be crossed off their ‘Romantic Outings’ list.
hp100 Challenge #2: The Mirror of Erised
In his sixteenth year he discovered the mirror hidden in one of the school’s myriad forgotten chambers. The dark surface offered back his pale reflection and what should be. What would be.
He found it once more amidst smouldering embers and charred stones; bright, metallic, unbroken. It revealed only himself, and he claimed it as part of the victor’s spoils.
He looked into the mirror the day after his father’s state funeral - a grim, paranoid affair - and it showed him the world the way it had been. But that was lost, all lost. He covered the glass and never looked again.
Characters: Goyle, Crabbe
hp100 'Off-duty Deatheaters' Challenge
"Goyle, look! Look! Isn't that?... "
Goyle squinted skyward and immediately located Crabbe’s target. He sucked in an anticipatory breath. Both men stared intently at the figure flying rather erratically towards the landing-platform, eyes raking eagerly down the broom as the ancient wizard landed with several bumpy hops.
"It is. It really is."
Fingers trembled as he pressed quill to parchment, and Goyle's voice held a note of quivering awe it rarely exhibited outside the Dark Lord’s presence. An awe apparently not shared by the broom's passenger, who sniffed in disdain as he passed them by.
"Bloody broom-spotters," he mumbled.