Drabble...
Well, it's not entirely unlike a drabble. I still don't know how people can limit themselves to a hundred words, or whatever...
For firewillow
Disclaimer: not mine
Poise
She had poise; there was no denying it. Grace, charm, refinement. Whatever you wanted to call it, Pansy Parkinson had it in abundance. Even in the most boring of classes, Pansy would be seated straight in her chair, feet crossed at the ankles, head facing forward. The idea of Pansy slouching was ridiculous.
He had noticed it in third year, in Binns' class. Everyone else in the room looked bored, although the Slytherins were better at hiding it, but Pansy looked perfectly composed and almost interested. It had fooled him for weeks, until he noticed she didn't actually take any notes. The look of concentration was perfect, her gaze never strayed to the window or even flickered around the room, but whatever it was she was thinking about, it certainly wasn't the dates of Grimbleblade the Goblin's life, numerous battles, and sudden death.
And so he'd started watching the girl. In History of Magic she was calm and composed, in Potions she was involved and interested, and clearly quite skilled for she never got so much as a stray splash on her robes. Similarly, walking through the halls after Herbology there wouldn't be a trace of dirt under her fingernails, nor a smudge anywhere on her.
And she didn't so much walk through the halls as glide. Around her there was always a space, an area through which no one else would walk, stumble, or shove. It wasn't that people would part to let them pass, rather she seemed to create a space through which she could move, which hadn't existed before she was there and vanished as soon as she moved on.
It went with out saying that she had impeccable table manners, and he wasn't surprised to discover the night that Harry Potter woke the castle with the terror that Sirius Black was lose in the castle that Pansy even looked put together when woken from dead sleep and hustled into the Great Hall with everyone else. She simply chatted briefly and quietly with her friends, then lay quite still on her sleeping mat, until it was impossible to tell if she was asleep or simply lying quietly.
He'd never seen her break her poise, but as the years went on he couldn't help but wonder what it would look like when she did. It wasn't really an obsession, yet, but as time passed he thought about it more and more. What would it take to distract her? What would it take for her to yell, to flinch, to fall? What would he have to do?
For firewillow
Disclaimer: not mine
Poise
She had poise; there was no denying it. Grace, charm, refinement. Whatever you wanted to call it, Pansy Parkinson had it in abundance. Even in the most boring of classes, Pansy would be seated straight in her chair, feet crossed at the ankles, head facing forward. The idea of Pansy slouching was ridiculous.
He had noticed it in third year, in Binns' class. Everyone else in the room looked bored, although the Slytherins were better at hiding it, but Pansy looked perfectly composed and almost interested. It had fooled him for weeks, until he noticed she didn't actually take any notes. The look of concentration was perfect, her gaze never strayed to the window or even flickered around the room, but whatever it was she was thinking about, it certainly wasn't the dates of Grimbleblade the Goblin's life, numerous battles, and sudden death.
And so he'd started watching the girl. In History of Magic she was calm and composed, in Potions she was involved and interested, and clearly quite skilled for she never got so much as a stray splash on her robes. Similarly, walking through the halls after Herbology there wouldn't be a trace of dirt under her fingernails, nor a smudge anywhere on her.
And she didn't so much walk through the halls as glide. Around her there was always a space, an area through which no one else would walk, stumble, or shove. It wasn't that people would part to let them pass, rather she seemed to create a space through which she could move, which hadn't existed before she was there and vanished as soon as she moved on.
It went with out saying that she had impeccable table manners, and he wasn't surprised to discover the night that Harry Potter woke the castle with the terror that Sirius Black was lose in the castle that Pansy even looked put together when woken from dead sleep and hustled into the Great Hall with everyone else. She simply chatted briefly and quietly with her friends, then lay quite still on her sleeping mat, until it was impossible to tell if she was asleep or simply lying quietly.
He'd never seen her break her poise, but as the years went on he couldn't help but wonder what it would look like when she did. It wasn't really an obsession, yet, but as time passed he thought about it more and more. What would it take to distract her? What would it take for her to yell, to flinch, to fall? What would he have to do?