HP -- Entirely Independently
Title: Entirely Independently
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Draco/Hermione
Rating: G
Word Count: 203
Warnings: geekiness
Summary: It's funny how a piece of paper can wield so much power.
Author's Note: I like this one. I do.
ENTIRELY INDEPENDENTLY
Her stationery says “We are such stuff as dreams are made on” at the top in swooping letters, and she always halfheartedly wishes that her handwriting were graceful like that. She signs her letters “Winter,” as in, A Winter’s Tale, which she suspects is the source of her name, though she can’t quite coax a confirmation out of her mother.
Exit, she writes, pursued by a bear.
She walks her letters to the apartment of the Ravenclaw girl down the street, who sends them off by owl, and sometimes, afterward, they talk over tea.
His stationery has the coat of arms sitting smugly in the top right corner, and he always halfheartedly wishes he could find something to mock about it. He signs his letters “Dust,” as in, It is absurdly dusty in this mausoleum, because she will care that his allergies are acting up again.
Clearly, he writes, a prelude to lions and tigers.
He walks his letters down to the shed, where he pays the gardener two Galleons not to mention his repeated borrowing of the man’s scruffy owl.
Entirely independently, and entirely independently thinking it somewhat stupid, each of them presses a kiss to every letter before letting it go.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Draco/Hermione
Rating: G
Word Count: 203
Warnings: geekiness
Summary: It's funny how a piece of paper can wield so much power.
Author's Note: I like this one. I do.
ENTIRELY INDEPENDENTLY
Her stationery says “We are such stuff as dreams are made on” at the top in swooping letters, and she always halfheartedly wishes that her handwriting were graceful like that. She signs her letters “Winter,” as in, A Winter’s Tale, which she suspects is the source of her name, though she can’t quite coax a confirmation out of her mother.
Exit, she writes, pursued by a bear.
She walks her letters to the apartment of the Ravenclaw girl down the street, who sends them off by owl, and sometimes, afterward, they talk over tea.
His stationery has the coat of arms sitting smugly in the top right corner, and he always halfheartedly wishes he could find something to mock about it. He signs his letters “Dust,” as in, It is absurdly dusty in this mausoleum, because she will care that his allergies are acting up again.
Clearly, he writes, a prelude to lions and tigers.
He walks his letters down to the shed, where he pays the gardener two Galleons not to mention his repeated borrowing of the man’s scruffy owl.
Entirely independently, and entirely independently thinking it somewhat stupid, each of them presses a kiss to every letter before letting it go.