HP -- Linked Together
Title: Linked Together
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Draco/Hermione
Rating: G
Word Count: 251
Warnings: none
Summary: The heat is unbearable, but, perhaps simply to spite it, Draco and Hermione sleep.
Author's Note: Basic idea lifted from a story told by a fellow actress in the dressing room. I'm not as clever as I make myself look. >_>
LINKED TOGETHER
There are three fans running full-blast in the bedroom, their baritone voices blending. The night outside is dim, the clouds underscored with the glow of a thousand lights, and a faint hint of unnatural orange from the streetlamp far below seeps into the thick gray that has settled over the room, resonating dully in the very air.
The room’s pair of occupants have concluded, with no small amount of evidence to support the theory, that their landlady is a demon from the seventh circle, possibly composed of molten lava with a thin veneer of humanity slapped on top. It is the only possible explanation for the fact that the air conditioning unit for the whole building broke three days ago, and she hasn’t done a thing.
The fans perched precariously on the dresser, the chair, and the nightstand do little but shift the sweltering air around. The room’s occupants pretend it helps, because they refuse to believe that they are powerless.
A curl, black in the weak light, sticks to her temple, encroaching onto her forehead. His hair lies spread over the pillow like white feathers. The top sheet is crumpled at the foot of the bed like a forsaken paper bag; the comforter has been banished all the way to the floor. Stifling air tossed from one fan to another flutters his tee shirt, and she dreams of dumping a truckload of ice cubes into a swimming pool.
Lying on the damp bottom sheet, their littlest fingers are linked together.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Draco/Hermione
Rating: G
Word Count: 251
Warnings: none
Summary: The heat is unbearable, but, perhaps simply to spite it, Draco and Hermione sleep.
Author's Note: Basic idea lifted from a story told by a fellow actress in the dressing room. I'm not as clever as I make myself look. >_>
LINKED TOGETHER
There are three fans running full-blast in the bedroom, their baritone voices blending. The night outside is dim, the clouds underscored with the glow of a thousand lights, and a faint hint of unnatural orange from the streetlamp far below seeps into the thick gray that has settled over the room, resonating dully in the very air.
The room’s pair of occupants have concluded, with no small amount of evidence to support the theory, that their landlady is a demon from the seventh circle, possibly composed of molten lava with a thin veneer of humanity slapped on top. It is the only possible explanation for the fact that the air conditioning unit for the whole building broke three days ago, and she hasn’t done a thing.
The fans perched precariously on the dresser, the chair, and the nightstand do little but shift the sweltering air around. The room’s occupants pretend it helps, because they refuse to believe that they are powerless.
A curl, black in the weak light, sticks to her temple, encroaching onto her forehead. His hair lies spread over the pillow like white feathers. The top sheet is crumpled at the foot of the bed like a forsaken paper bag; the comforter has been banished all the way to the floor. Stifling air tossed from one fan to another flutters his tee shirt, and she dreams of dumping a truckload of ice cubes into a swimming pool.
Lying on the damp bottom sheet, their littlest fingers are linked together.