Oranges (for 100quills)
Title: Oranges
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: G
Prompt: Orange
Word Count: 197
Summary: Dorcas realises she is in trouble
Warnings: None
Notes: For 100quills. Occurs long before Firelight.
When Dorcas realised she was in trouble, she was sitting at the Slytherin table, eating lunch. Almost accidentally, she reached for an orange, and as she peeled it with sculpted nails, she found herself pondering the scent, wondering why she had this odd touch of memory. It was like déjà vu. She pondered it, using he knife to cut the peel off in a large, winding spiral.
It was a good feeling, whatever it was, and she slowly savoured the fruit, considering it. She glanced around, nodding to Clemence Burke, and he eyes caught sight of the Gryffindor table. He eyes widened as she caught sight of the Prewett twins, and her fingers dropped the fruit. It was familiar, yes, and she suddenly recalled the sharp citrus smell. She had smelled it before, when Fabian had stolen he journal, and in the tousle to get it back, she had gotten too close.
Her fingers slipped, and she sliced her thumb. She sucked gently on her finger, the bitter, metallic tang of the blood made her thoughts spin. Or maybe that was the pain from the juice of the orange-because it certainly wasn’t because of Fabian Pewett.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: G
Prompt: Orange
Word Count: 197
Summary: Dorcas realises she is in trouble
Warnings: None
Notes: For 100quills. Occurs long before Firelight.
When Dorcas realised she was in trouble, she was sitting at the Slytherin table, eating lunch. Almost accidentally, she reached for an orange, and as she peeled it with sculpted nails, she found herself pondering the scent, wondering why she had this odd touch of memory. It was like déjà vu. She pondered it, using he knife to cut the peel off in a large, winding spiral.
It was a good feeling, whatever it was, and she slowly savoured the fruit, considering it. She glanced around, nodding to Clemence Burke, and he eyes caught sight of the Gryffindor table. He eyes widened as she caught sight of the Prewett twins, and her fingers dropped the fruit. It was familiar, yes, and she suddenly recalled the sharp citrus smell. She had smelled it before, when Fabian had stolen he journal, and in the tousle to get it back, she had gotten too close.
Her fingers slipped, and she sliced her thumb. She sucked gently on her finger, the bitter, metallic tang of the blood made her thoughts spin. Or maybe that was the pain from the juice of the orange-because it certainly wasn’t because of Fabian Pewett.