(no subject)
Valentine's Day Challenge submission.
Disclaimer: J.K. owns all. Except gangsta!Harry. He’s Tam’s.
Note: Just a bit of fluff for Valentine’s. Not an actual serious fic, but I thought it wac ute when it popped into my head last night. This is for a challenge/collection belonging to Tamlane, and you can find the masterlist of fics here: http://tamlane.livejournal.com/105951.html
Challenge:
• Any pairing within the HP fandom. Het, slash, femmeslash, genderfuck, threesomes, moresomes... whatever your little heart desires. Yes, even Dennis Creevey/Giant Squid. (theirloveissopure!) :D
• Any rating. (But please indicate warnings where necessary!)
• At least 500 words. (Please?)
• New fic only, if you love me. (Because I'm such a h0r that I will probably already be reading anything you're writing for current challenges.)
• Please write something that is cracky, romantic, AND/OR smutty! (You can write angst if you absolutely must, but I probably won't read it. Sorry. ####, however, is encouraged perfectly OK.)
• If you love your readers, have your fic read by a beta. (And if you love your beta, thank him/her in your author's notes.)
• Please include the element of Valentine's Day in some form or fashion!
Here we go.
~Of Paper Cupids~
<3 <3 <3
Hermione drifted out of the lift amongst a bustling group of secretaries who were gossiping about the latest scandal in Witch Weekly. It was annoying the frizzy-haired witch to the point where she actually reached for her wand as one particularly blond, busty wench shoved her roughly into the corridor wall. It was disgraceful, and for Merlin’s sake, she was their superior!
But no, this week no one seemed to care if she was bloody Morgana herself! They would rather laze about the office, shoving paper hearts under doors and generally acting like love-struck moon calves. Hermione was tolerant at first, but when the first heart had found its way into her morning coffee cup, tolerance had quickly turned to blasting anything pink and fluttery into thousands of small, satisfyingly tiny pieces.
At least she could rejoice about Colin had leaving her alone this week; no stalking in the halls, or camera’s flashing in her face on the way to the loo. It was quite nice, and just the thought of not being followed about the Ministry by a skinny wizard who claimed to be in love with her was enough to cheer her up.
So with that new chipper outlook, she walked around the corner into her department. Even the mountainous, deplorable decorations only served to kill her mood a fraction of the norm, and she glared just the tiniest bit at the sloppily hung paper cupid floating at the top of her cubicle. Harry and Ron had put it up two days ago in a bout of childishness, telling her they had added the tiny little bow-and-arrowed man only out of ‘tradition’ and not because they wanted her ‘snogging anyone, ever -especially not on Valentine’s.’
She rather thought they were just sore that their currently unrequited love for certain individuals didn’t allow for them to be shagging anything that moved.
Settling down in her chair and shuffling papers about, she called over the flimsy plaster divider to her neighbor. “Anymore notes from the secret admirer, Zabini?”
A wad of paper flew over the wall, followed by some very agitated mumbling. Hermione fumbled and managed to snatch it out of the air, unfolding it and smoothing the wrinkles out of it carefully. Penned in a ridiculous flourish and smelling of heavy, choking rose perfume was a small poem.
“Roses are red
Violets are blue
You’re so gorgeous
I wanna shag you.”
Doubling over with laughter, she chucked it back to him, and choked out a reply. “At least they get down to the point, then. No foreplay, Zabini, just your type.”
The man had acquired several letters in the past week proclaiming this mystery-person's undying love to him, and each had been met with a quick toss to Hermione and then a resting place in his new Never-Filling paper basket he’d gotten for Christmas. So far, every single letter had held more or else the type of writing and declarations found in an eleven year-olds Potions journal, and not the advanced writings of a semi-intelligent person.
A dark and scowling face appeared at the top of the cubicle, and Blaise fairly growled at her through bared teeth. “You’ve no idea what my type is, Granger.”
He didn’t look half as appealing with that scowl, she thought blankly in a moment of incomprehension. Not that he'd ever looked appealing to her.
Startled, Hermione blinked and meekly started in on her towering stack of paperwork, reaching over to tick off a day on her calendar. It was the thirteenth, which meant tomorrow would be hell to get through. She sighed, and pointed her wand at the coffee machine setup between Zabini’s and her cubicles. As her mug zoomed over to her, half-empty, whatever remained of her good humor vanished at the sight of a pink paper heart floating in the sea of black.
“Creevey!”
<3
After her lunch hour, the boys both passed by on the way to the Department of Magical Mishaps. This, she thought wryly, was rather the routine with the two trainee Aurors.
She saw them coming as they rounded the corner into her department, Ron’s flaming head easily visible even through the steamer-dripping ceiling. He squeezed into the cubicle with a little effort, and grinned at her. “Wait till you see this one, Hermione. He’s outdone himself this time. Moody said it was the funniest thing he’d seen since he’d got the magical eye.” He jabbed a finger out the door, and rolled his blue eyes at her. “You’d think the savior of the world could manage a simple binding hex, but of course not. Not our Harry.”
Zabini, Lavender, Creevey, and Malfoy all poked out their heads over the surrounding cubicle-farm. This was the daily entertainment. Lavender, closest and obviously seeing whatever it was Harry had done, collapsed into giggles and Colin’s already posistioned camera started flashing like mad. The two Slytherins and Hermione shot each other looks, shrugged, and peered farther over their walls. Ron flushed as Draco used the Weasley's shoulders as leverage to lift his smaller frame higher.
Hermione smirked at him, and leaned forward a bit more.
Just as Hermione was about to tumble over the plaster from leaning so far, and Zabini and Ron quickly each grabbed a handful of her robes, Harry apparently decided to get it over with and stepped into view. Malfoy and Zabini gasped, and Blaise’s grip slipped on her back, sending her toppling over the wall into a heap on the floor. She glared at him through her hair, and then roughly shoved the curls out of her way to see what was going on.
Her eyes began to travel up her best friend’s form slowly in disbelief, taking in the baggy pants, huge white shirt, trainers, and hat currently adorning his scrawny body; her brown eyes settling back down on the blinding silver and diamond chain hanging from his pale neck and the large rings glittering on all over his short fingers.
Reaching down, he offered her a hand up with a brillant, metal encrusted smile. “Yo, Big H! How you like my new look? I dunno ‘ow I eva dressed before, but damn- I be pimpin’ now!”
His pants were hanging off his arse.
Hermione squeaked, and slowly backed into the coffee machine's table. Turning to Ron, careful to keep one eye on Harry, she blinked again. “What. Happened. Ronald.”
Malfoy’s hands quickly disappeared from Ron’s shoulders, and then the blonde was rushing out of the department and into the lifts. The red head swallowed, still choking on his laughter. “Well, see, we were practicing our binding this morning, and Harry accidentally pronounced ‘Tupacamo’ as ‘Tupacafro’. So instead of slamming me up against the wall like he was supposed to do, he blacked out. When he woke up, he started demanding jewelry and clothes. Dean says he’s possessed by a Muggle wrapper or something. Have no idea what that means, so I was hoping Goldstein and Puecy would help.”
Arching an eyebrow, she shared a skeptical Look with Zabini. Harry was fingering a picture of her parents now, and she thought she heard him muttering that her mum was a ‘damn fine sista’. Zabini thankfully snatched it away. Hermione thought she was going to be sick.
“Get going, Ron, before Colin uses the entire department's film supply.” Creevey was indeed on his fourth roll, and the Department of Magical Research was only allotted a limited amount per month.
As Ron started shoving Harry down the hall again, the black-haired man’s voice carried back to them for one more disturbing moment. It appeared he was talking to Madam Marchbanks, who was walking in the other direction with a tottering stack of parchment; the old woman blushed as he clearly called out, “Shake ‘dat Laffy Taffy!”
Still keeping up a serious face, Hermione turned to Zabini once more, thinking he was really rather charming when he smirked like that. The corners of his mouth were turned up, and his brown eyes glittered intensely against his chocolate-coloured face again. The earlier argument seemed to be a moot point after that display. “Where do you think Malfoy’s run off to?”
“Probably to alert Skeeter.”
They both collapsed back into their separate cubicles laughing, Zabini having to brush away the hanging cupid good-naturedly from where its arrow was just poking the top of his head.
<3
The next morning Hermione slipped from her bed and into her house shoes with painstaking effort. It wasn’t that she wasn’t a morning person, and it wasn’t that she felt particularly sick, but the second she had even entered REM state she’d known what day it was.
In her opinion, Valentine’s Day was just some soppy excuse for couples to display their adoration for one another, and a holiday invented by the candies stores.
Not to say that she didn’t buy herself a few boxes of chocolates every year.
Heading into her flat’s bathroom, she groggily peered into the mirror. A wild mass of hair floated on the top of her head, and she’d forgotten to charm her makeup off last night. Smudged dark circles resided under her eyes, and the pillow had left creases on her right cheek. She’d never look presentable at this rate, and today she oddly felt as if she would need to look more than that.
Not that there was a certain someone she wanted to look more than presentable for.
“Bloody hell.”
<3
Two hours later, she was once again squished into the lift with the secretaries and a tall wizard holding a small fuzzy rodent that wouldn’t stop coughing. Furiously, she jammed the fifth floor button three more times for good measure, only to be rewarded with the woman’s cool voice announcing over the speaker that patience was a virtue.
Hermione spitefully pushed the button again, lip curling when the voice retaliated by cheerfully wishing her a happy Valentine’s Day as the doors finally opened for her.
Damn omniscient bitch.
<3
Ripping stray streamers out of her way as she turned the corner, she slid again into her cubicle chair and tossed the standard greeting to her co-workers. Her hair, which had actually been manageable today, was now tangled again in one massive heap. Her make up was smeared on one side, and at this point Hermione didn’t give a flying fuck who saw her.
Speaking of Zabini…
The wad of paper flew onto her desk before she could ask -not that she was going to- and she quickly ripped the thing open and scanned the surprisingly sloppy scrawl that inked across the parchment today.
'Be my Valentine, Hermione?'
Not quite believing what she saw, especially because of who’s writing it was, she reread it four times before speaking again. “Blaise, what the…”
His head didn’t poke over the top of the cubicle, but she thought she could tell what he looked like just from the tone of his voice: forceful, handsome, quirky, stubborn as shit. “[i]You[/i] are my type, Granger.”
This was all news to her, but taking that as her cue, Hermione popped her head over the wall instead of waiting for him. “In that case, you better be getting me flowers, Zabini.”
He turned, winked, and then settled back into his book, that smirk flitting across his face once more. “Whateva you say, Big H. I migh’ even spring for yo lunch, woman.” She laughed, and then suddenly he was out of his chair too, and had captured her lips in his in a quick, searing kiss over the cubicle wall.
Just then, the cupid that had been hanging above them tipped and fell onto their heads, effectively ruining the moment. Blaise grinned, picked up the paper monstrosity, and slipped out of his cubicle. He started of down the hall. “I’m off to warn Creevey to stay away from you.” And then he was disappearing into Colin’s cubicle.
Shaking her head and trying to fight the silly grin threatening to take over her face, she leaned over to the next cubicle in front of hers. “Malfoy, did that just happen?”
He looked up from where he was staring confusedly at a narrow strip of parchment, and she was shocked to see a copy of the rude poem from yesterday, only this time with Ron’s signature flashing across the bottom. “Yes, Granger. Now excuse me, I have to go see a man about some flowers.” He was in the lift and waving goodbye before she could say another word.
Now, once again alone, she glared weakly at the still seemingly multiplying streamers, but sat back down and slipped the tiny ball of paper with Blaise’s note on it carefully into her briefcase. Maybe the holiday wasn’t such a waste after all.
And she wouldn't be buying her own chocolate this year either, if she had anything to say about it.
<3 <3 <3
A/N: Merp. Good, bad?
(Happy V-Day everyone!)
Disclaimer: J.K. owns all. Except gangsta!Harry. He’s Tam’s.
Note: Just a bit of fluff for Valentine’s. Not an actual serious fic, but I thought it wac ute when it popped into my head last night. This is for a challenge/collection belonging to Tamlane, and you can find the masterlist of fics here: http://tamlane.livejournal.com/105951.html
Challenge:
• Any pairing within the HP fandom. Het, slash, femmeslash, genderfuck, threesomes, moresomes... whatever your little heart desires. Yes, even Dennis Creevey/Giant Squid. (theirloveissopure!) :D
• Any rating. (But please indicate warnings where necessary!)
• At least 500 words. (Please?)
• New fic only, if you love me. (Because I'm such a h0r that I will probably already be reading anything you're writing for current challenges.)
• Please write something that is cracky, romantic, AND/OR smutty! (You can write angst if you absolutely must, but I probably won't read it. Sorry. ####, however, is encouraged perfectly OK.)
• If you love your readers, have your fic read by a beta. (And if you love your beta, thank him/her in your author's notes.)
• Please include the element of Valentine's Day in some form or fashion!
Here we go.
~Of Paper Cupids~
<3 <3 <3
Hermione drifted out of the lift amongst a bustling group of secretaries who were gossiping about the latest scandal in Witch Weekly. It was annoying the frizzy-haired witch to the point where she actually reached for her wand as one particularly blond, busty wench shoved her roughly into the corridor wall. It was disgraceful, and for Merlin’s sake, she was their superior!
But no, this week no one seemed to care if she was bloody Morgana herself! They would rather laze about the office, shoving paper hearts under doors and generally acting like love-struck moon calves. Hermione was tolerant at first, but when the first heart had found its way into her morning coffee cup, tolerance had quickly turned to blasting anything pink and fluttery into thousands of small, satisfyingly tiny pieces.
At least she could rejoice about Colin had leaving her alone this week; no stalking in the halls, or camera’s flashing in her face on the way to the loo. It was quite nice, and just the thought of not being followed about the Ministry by a skinny wizard who claimed to be in love with her was enough to cheer her up.
So with that new chipper outlook, she walked around the corner into her department. Even the mountainous, deplorable decorations only served to kill her mood a fraction of the norm, and she glared just the tiniest bit at the sloppily hung paper cupid floating at the top of her cubicle. Harry and Ron had put it up two days ago in a bout of childishness, telling her they had added the tiny little bow-and-arrowed man only out of ‘tradition’ and not because they wanted her ‘snogging anyone, ever -especially not on Valentine’s.’
She rather thought they were just sore that their currently unrequited love for certain individuals didn’t allow for them to be shagging anything that moved.
Settling down in her chair and shuffling papers about, she called over the flimsy plaster divider to her neighbor. “Anymore notes from the secret admirer, Zabini?”
A wad of paper flew over the wall, followed by some very agitated mumbling. Hermione fumbled and managed to snatch it out of the air, unfolding it and smoothing the wrinkles out of it carefully. Penned in a ridiculous flourish and smelling of heavy, choking rose perfume was a small poem.
“Roses are red
Violets are blue
You’re so gorgeous
I wanna shag you.”
Doubling over with laughter, she chucked it back to him, and choked out a reply. “At least they get down to the point, then. No foreplay, Zabini, just your type.”
The man had acquired several letters in the past week proclaiming this mystery-person's undying love to him, and each had been met with a quick toss to Hermione and then a resting place in his new Never-Filling paper basket he’d gotten for Christmas. So far, every single letter had held more or else the type of writing and declarations found in an eleven year-olds Potions journal, and not the advanced writings of a semi-intelligent person.
A dark and scowling face appeared at the top of the cubicle, and Blaise fairly growled at her through bared teeth. “You’ve no idea what my type is, Granger.”
He didn’t look half as appealing with that scowl, she thought blankly in a moment of incomprehension. Not that he'd ever looked appealing to her.
Startled, Hermione blinked and meekly started in on her towering stack of paperwork, reaching over to tick off a day on her calendar. It was the thirteenth, which meant tomorrow would be hell to get through. She sighed, and pointed her wand at the coffee machine setup between Zabini’s and her cubicles. As her mug zoomed over to her, half-empty, whatever remained of her good humor vanished at the sight of a pink paper heart floating in the sea of black.
“Creevey!”
<3
After her lunch hour, the boys both passed by on the way to the Department of Magical Mishaps. This, she thought wryly, was rather the routine with the two trainee Aurors.
She saw them coming as they rounded the corner into her department, Ron’s flaming head easily visible even through the steamer-dripping ceiling. He squeezed into the cubicle with a little effort, and grinned at her. “Wait till you see this one, Hermione. He’s outdone himself this time. Moody said it was the funniest thing he’d seen since he’d got the magical eye.” He jabbed a finger out the door, and rolled his blue eyes at her. “You’d think the savior of the world could manage a simple binding hex, but of course not. Not our Harry.”
Zabini, Lavender, Creevey, and Malfoy all poked out their heads over the surrounding cubicle-farm. This was the daily entertainment. Lavender, closest and obviously seeing whatever it was Harry had done, collapsed into giggles and Colin’s already posistioned camera started flashing like mad. The two Slytherins and Hermione shot each other looks, shrugged, and peered farther over their walls. Ron flushed as Draco used the Weasley's shoulders as leverage to lift his smaller frame higher.
Hermione smirked at him, and leaned forward a bit more.
Just as Hermione was about to tumble over the plaster from leaning so far, and Zabini and Ron quickly each grabbed a handful of her robes, Harry apparently decided to get it over with and stepped into view. Malfoy and Zabini gasped, and Blaise’s grip slipped on her back, sending her toppling over the wall into a heap on the floor. She glared at him through her hair, and then roughly shoved the curls out of her way to see what was going on.
Her eyes began to travel up her best friend’s form slowly in disbelief, taking in the baggy pants, huge white shirt, trainers, and hat currently adorning his scrawny body; her brown eyes settling back down on the blinding silver and diamond chain hanging from his pale neck and the large rings glittering on all over his short fingers.
Reaching down, he offered her a hand up with a brillant, metal encrusted smile. “Yo, Big H! How you like my new look? I dunno ‘ow I eva dressed before, but damn- I be pimpin’ now!”
His pants were hanging off his arse.
Hermione squeaked, and slowly backed into the coffee machine's table. Turning to Ron, careful to keep one eye on Harry, she blinked again. “What. Happened. Ronald.”
Malfoy’s hands quickly disappeared from Ron’s shoulders, and then the blonde was rushing out of the department and into the lifts. The red head swallowed, still choking on his laughter. “Well, see, we were practicing our binding this morning, and Harry accidentally pronounced ‘Tupacamo’ as ‘Tupacafro’. So instead of slamming me up against the wall like he was supposed to do, he blacked out. When he woke up, he started demanding jewelry and clothes. Dean says he’s possessed by a Muggle wrapper or something. Have no idea what that means, so I was hoping Goldstein and Puecy would help.”
Arching an eyebrow, she shared a skeptical Look with Zabini. Harry was fingering a picture of her parents now, and she thought she heard him muttering that her mum was a ‘damn fine sista’. Zabini thankfully snatched it away. Hermione thought she was going to be sick.
“Get going, Ron, before Colin uses the entire department's film supply.” Creevey was indeed on his fourth roll, and the Department of Magical Research was only allotted a limited amount per month.
As Ron started shoving Harry down the hall again, the black-haired man’s voice carried back to them for one more disturbing moment. It appeared he was talking to Madam Marchbanks, who was walking in the other direction with a tottering stack of parchment; the old woman blushed as he clearly called out, “Shake ‘dat Laffy Taffy!”
Still keeping up a serious face, Hermione turned to Zabini once more, thinking he was really rather charming when he smirked like that. The corners of his mouth were turned up, and his brown eyes glittered intensely against his chocolate-coloured face again. The earlier argument seemed to be a moot point after that display. “Where do you think Malfoy’s run off to?”
“Probably to alert Skeeter.”
They both collapsed back into their separate cubicles laughing, Zabini having to brush away the hanging cupid good-naturedly from where its arrow was just poking the top of his head.
<3
The next morning Hermione slipped from her bed and into her house shoes with painstaking effort. It wasn’t that she wasn’t a morning person, and it wasn’t that she felt particularly sick, but the second she had even entered REM state she’d known what day it was.
In her opinion, Valentine’s Day was just some soppy excuse for couples to display their adoration for one another, and a holiday invented by the candies stores.
Not to say that she didn’t buy herself a few boxes of chocolates every year.
Heading into her flat’s bathroom, she groggily peered into the mirror. A wild mass of hair floated on the top of her head, and she’d forgotten to charm her makeup off last night. Smudged dark circles resided under her eyes, and the pillow had left creases on her right cheek. She’d never look presentable at this rate, and today she oddly felt as if she would need to look more than that.
Not that there was a certain someone she wanted to look more than presentable for.
“Bloody hell.”
<3
Two hours later, she was once again squished into the lift with the secretaries and a tall wizard holding a small fuzzy rodent that wouldn’t stop coughing. Furiously, she jammed the fifth floor button three more times for good measure, only to be rewarded with the woman’s cool voice announcing over the speaker that patience was a virtue.
Hermione spitefully pushed the button again, lip curling when the voice retaliated by cheerfully wishing her a happy Valentine’s Day as the doors finally opened for her.
Damn omniscient bitch.
<3
Ripping stray streamers out of her way as she turned the corner, she slid again into her cubicle chair and tossed the standard greeting to her co-workers. Her hair, which had actually been manageable today, was now tangled again in one massive heap. Her make up was smeared on one side, and at this point Hermione didn’t give a flying fuck who saw her.
Speaking of Zabini…
The wad of paper flew onto her desk before she could ask -not that she was going to- and she quickly ripped the thing open and scanned the surprisingly sloppy scrawl that inked across the parchment today.
'Be my Valentine, Hermione?'
Not quite believing what she saw, especially because of who’s writing it was, she reread it four times before speaking again. “Blaise, what the…”
His head didn’t poke over the top of the cubicle, but she thought she could tell what he looked like just from the tone of his voice: forceful, handsome, quirky, stubborn as shit. “[i]You[/i] are my type, Granger.”
This was all news to her, but taking that as her cue, Hermione popped her head over the wall instead of waiting for him. “In that case, you better be getting me flowers, Zabini.”
He turned, winked, and then settled back into his book, that smirk flitting across his face once more. “Whateva you say, Big H. I migh’ even spring for yo lunch, woman.” She laughed, and then suddenly he was out of his chair too, and had captured her lips in his in a quick, searing kiss over the cubicle wall.
Just then, the cupid that had been hanging above them tipped and fell onto their heads, effectively ruining the moment. Blaise grinned, picked up the paper monstrosity, and slipped out of his cubicle. He started of down the hall. “I’m off to warn Creevey to stay away from you.” And then he was disappearing into Colin’s cubicle.
Shaking her head and trying to fight the silly grin threatening to take over her face, she leaned over to the next cubicle in front of hers. “Malfoy, did that just happen?”
He looked up from where he was staring confusedly at a narrow strip of parchment, and she was shocked to see a copy of the rude poem from yesterday, only this time with Ron’s signature flashing across the bottom. “Yes, Granger. Now excuse me, I have to go see a man about some flowers.” He was in the lift and waving goodbye before she could say another word.
Now, once again alone, she glared weakly at the still seemingly multiplying streamers, but sat back down and slipped the tiny ball of paper with Blaise’s note on it carefully into her briefcase. Maybe the holiday wasn’t such a waste after all.
And she wouldn't be buying her own chocolate this year either, if she had anything to say about it.
<3 <3 <3
A/N: Merp. Good, bad?
(Happy V-Day everyone!)