Drabbles
So both drabbles are per persephone33 's request, but since seegrim wanted one too, and didn't spesify, i thought I'd do one happy one sad. Sad one's first, and happy is second, just to make you giggle after bringing you down. Both are rated Not naughty.
Blowing Kisses
I can see her, face down as she runs through the rain, her hair plastered to the back of her t-shirt. I know she’s been crying again, but she’d never tell anyone. They’re all so proud of her for the way she keeps her chin up and goes about her life, impressed even, that she decided to take up something like running to calm her self down. But only I know the truth. She runs because she scared; she feels trapped.
The muscles of her legs entrance me as she pushes through the pain and the rushed breathing, caused by tears instead of the run. She truly is the most beautiful creature I have ever seen, even with the make-up she put on this morning sliding down her face, and her hair tangled in a ponytail by the wind and the rain.
She keeps running until she reaches the gates, crawling with vines. Once she’s passed the wrought iron, she slows to a jog, and eventually a walk. Rain or shine, its here she runs, every single day. When she reaches her destination, she drops to her knees, one fist pounding the muddy ground beneath her.
“You blood prick,” she screams. It pains me to know she’s angry today. “How could you leave me? How could you?” she demands.
And, just as I do everyday, I allow myself to slide down to the ground beside her, completely unseen. I’ve given up trying to explain myself, I know she can’t hear me, but for as long as she stays I try to reassure her.
“I love you,” I whisper. “I always will.”
Almost as if she’d heard me, her eyes slowly raise from the ground to rest on the stone in front of her. She reaches her fingers out as if to caress the name engraved there. They continue until they slide over the dates, the last one only a month and four days ago. With one last sigh, she stands, ignoring the mud that’s now caked onto her skin.
“I know you did it for me,” she whispers, “I know you gave yourself up so they wouldn’t find me. But it doesn’t make me miss you any less.”
I watch as she turns to go, with her face up this time, a small smile on her lips as she turns to blow one last kiss good-bye, just like she always does. And even though she can’t see me, I send one back for her.
Silly boy, he doesn’t know I’m watching. Draco Malfoy likes to pretend that he’s so tough, but I know the truth. Every time I drag him to one of these family events, he tries to stand indifferently off to the side with his arm a cross his chest. But they always get to him. After about fifteen minutes, one of the many children will run up to him, tugging on his arm until he comes down to their eye level (which is always done with a dramatic sigh). Then, they’ll whisper something in his ear, eyes wide. Eventually, he’ll nod, and the child will scamper off, giggling.
After that, Draco will wait until he thinks no one’s looking before disappearing off in the direction of the giggling gaggle of children that make up the broods of my brothers. It doesn’t take long until he’s running around with them, allowing himself to be tackled, or lifting them up so they can fly. The smile that’s on his face then warms my heart. I know he’s not so tough when his hair is messy, and there are grass stains on his perfect trousers-though he always rights himself before coming back in with the adults.
I sigh contentedly as I watch him pick up Bill’s little Victory and spin her in his arms, singing in French just to hear her giggle. Oh yes, its Victory, and Ron and Hermione’s daughter, Rose, who have him the most wrapped. I know he’ll spoil out own daughter someday; she’ll be daddy’s little princess. I can’t wait to see his face when he hears the news tonight at dinner. Maybe then he’ll be willing to admit to everyone else what a softy he really is.
Blowing Kisses
I can see her, face down as she runs through the rain, her hair plastered to the back of her t-shirt. I know she’s been crying again, but she’d never tell anyone. They’re all so proud of her for the way she keeps her chin up and goes about her life, impressed even, that she decided to take up something like running to calm her self down. But only I know the truth. She runs because she scared; she feels trapped.
The muscles of her legs entrance me as she pushes through the pain and the rushed breathing, caused by tears instead of the run. She truly is the most beautiful creature I have ever seen, even with the make-up she put on this morning sliding down her face, and her hair tangled in a ponytail by the wind and the rain.
She keeps running until she reaches the gates, crawling with vines. Once she’s passed the wrought iron, she slows to a jog, and eventually a walk. Rain or shine, its here she runs, every single day. When she reaches her destination, she drops to her knees, one fist pounding the muddy ground beneath her.
“You blood prick,” she screams. It pains me to know she’s angry today. “How could you leave me? How could you?” she demands.
And, just as I do everyday, I allow myself to slide down to the ground beside her, completely unseen. I’ve given up trying to explain myself, I know she can’t hear me, but for as long as she stays I try to reassure her.
“I love you,” I whisper. “I always will.”
Almost as if she’d heard me, her eyes slowly raise from the ground to rest on the stone in front of her. She reaches her fingers out as if to caress the name engraved there. They continue until they slide over the dates, the last one only a month and four days ago. With one last sigh, she stands, ignoring the mud that’s now caked onto her skin.
“I know you did it for me,” she whispers, “I know you gave yourself up so they wouldn’t find me. But it doesn’t make me miss you any less.”
I watch as she turns to go, with her face up this time, a small smile on her lips as she turns to blow one last kiss good-bye, just like she always does. And even though she can’t see me, I send one back for her.
Silly boy, he doesn’t know I’m watching. Draco Malfoy likes to pretend that he’s so tough, but I know the truth. Every time I drag him to one of these family events, he tries to stand indifferently off to the side with his arm a cross his chest. But they always get to him. After about fifteen minutes, one of the many children will run up to him, tugging on his arm until he comes down to their eye level (which is always done with a dramatic sigh). Then, they’ll whisper something in his ear, eyes wide. Eventually, he’ll nod, and the child will scamper off, giggling.
After that, Draco will wait until he thinks no one’s looking before disappearing off in the direction of the giggling gaggle of children that make up the broods of my brothers. It doesn’t take long until he’s running around with them, allowing himself to be tackled, or lifting them up so they can fly. The smile that’s on his face then warms my heart. I know he’s not so tough when his hair is messy, and there are grass stains on his perfect trousers-though he always rights himself before coming back in with the adults.
I sigh contentedly as I watch him pick up Bill’s little Victory and spin her in his arms, singing in French just to hear her giggle. Oh yes, its Victory, and Ron and Hermione’s daughter, Rose, who have him the most wrapped. I know he’ll spoil out own daughter someday; she’ll be daddy’s little princess. I can’t wait to see his face when he hears the news tonight at dinner. Maybe then he’ll be willing to admit to everyone else what a softy he really is.