Pinch-hitting: Drabbles for Mandragora
Happy Holidays. :) They're all. Kind of dark, I think?
“I have the crappiest timing in the world, don’t I?” Remus asked, tired brown eyes apologetic, even sheepish.
“Don’t, you know this happens and you can hardly help it,” he replied instead, nudging a steaming cup into his chapped lips. “Drink.”
His lips parted the slightest bit and Severus tipped the cup carefully, hands steady with the practice of years.
“Your present’s under the tree,” Remus whispered. Severus sat outside the shack that night, bathed in hateful moonlight and listening to every whimper and howl from inside, wrapped in a large gray fur coat.
“Merry Christmas to you too, Moony.”
---
It was almost too late before they remembered, wrapped in each other’s arms under dirty too-thin sheets inside cramped quarters. Time always stopped for war. Her face was bloody and his chest heaved from where his rib had fractured his lungs.
“Hey, Hermione?” he asked, voice raspy.
“Yes?” She clung onto him, cradling him against her chest.
“Happy Christmas.”
“Oh, Harry,” she whispered. “Happy-Happy Christmas.”
“Sing to me?”
She choked with tears, and her voice shook but it was soothing, and when Harry closed his eyes he almost felt no pain.
Sleep in heavenly peace
Sleep in heavenly peace.
---
When her sisters giggled over who they’d kissed under the mistletoe, Bellatrix kept quiet, choosing vicious red dress robes and a delicate necklace, for she was to meet Rodolphus Lestrange at that night’s party.
“Hurry up, children,” she said. “And I’d be careful who I find myself with under it.”
But she hadn’t been careful. Before the Lestranges arrived, she looked up to where the mistletoe was and saw it directly above her.
“Fascinating, isn’t it?” a voice murmured from behind her. She turned to a handsome man with a charming grin. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Tom Riddle.”
“I have the crappiest timing in the world, don’t I?” Remus asked, tired brown eyes apologetic, even sheepish.
“Don’t, you know this happens and you can hardly help it,” he replied instead, nudging a steaming cup into his chapped lips. “Drink.”
His lips parted the slightest bit and Severus tipped the cup carefully, hands steady with the practice of years.
“Your present’s under the tree,” Remus whispered. Severus sat outside the shack that night, bathed in hateful moonlight and listening to every whimper and howl from inside, wrapped in a large gray fur coat.
“Merry Christmas to you too, Moony.”
---
It was almost too late before they remembered, wrapped in each other’s arms under dirty too-thin sheets inside cramped quarters. Time always stopped for war. Her face was bloody and his chest heaved from where his rib had fractured his lungs.
“Hey, Hermione?” he asked, voice raspy.
“Yes?” She clung onto him, cradling him against her chest.
“Happy Christmas.”
“Oh, Harry,” she whispered. “Happy-Happy Christmas.”
“Sing to me?”
She choked with tears, and her voice shook but it was soothing, and when Harry closed his eyes he almost felt no pain.
Sleep in heavenly peace
Sleep in heavenly peace.
---
When her sisters giggled over who they’d kissed under the mistletoe, Bellatrix kept quiet, choosing vicious red dress robes and a delicate necklace, for she was to meet Rodolphus Lestrange at that night’s party.
“Hurry up, children,” she said. “And I’d be careful who I find myself with under it.”
But she hadn’t been careful. Before the Lestranges arrived, she looked up to where the mistletoe was and saw it directly above her.
“Fascinating, isn’t it?” a voice murmured from behind her. She turned to a handsome man with a charming grin. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Tom Riddle.”