Ellie's Sweet Hearts
Lily Luna/Lysander Scamander
Lily Evans/James Potter
Dominique Weasley/Lorcan Scamander
BE MY HERO
(You all probably don't know this: I'm kind of a D/A person, but I can tolerate certain amounts of fluff. :))
Rating/Warnings: 1st-2nd years/none
Word Count: 738
Author's Notes: I hope you like this. It’s not romantic, but it is a scene between the two of them.
The heat was nearly intolerable. Lysander’s parents had long since gone inside, and Lorcan had wandered off somewhere, probably to see that girl who lived in the house just up the river. He knew that boys were, at some point, supposed to start liking girls, but he hadn’t got there yet. The only reason Lorcan liked Durga was because she was also good at football. Girls were weird and complicated and so boring.
The exception to this was Aunt Lily, who had been staying with the Scamanders for a few days now. Lysander looked away from the waterfall he was sitting besides, to the deep green trees to his left, under which Lily lay in the shade. She, he supposed, was family, and therefore didn’t really count as a girl at all. He liked the way she treated him the same way she treated his parents. Too many of his parents’ friend talked to him as if he was five, and he wasn’t five, he was seven.
Last Christmas, when they’d been in Britain for the holidays, she’d been different. She’d been happy. The first day she arrived, he had asked his father why she was so sad. His father had told him not to ask personal questions, and to just leave her be. But Lysander didn’t want to leave her be. He hated seeing people sad, and prided himself on being able to cheer anyone up, with his impression of a monkey, or of his father on seeing a spider, or, sometimes, just by falling over.
So he stood up, and walked to the edge of the waterfall. He’d dived over waterfalls before, though not since the recent landslide. He couldn’t remember that affecting this area, though, and was sure it would be fine. He was good at diving, and it would make Lily see him smile to jump and dive into the pool, several metres below.
Over the thundering noise of the water, he shouted, “Hey, Lily!”
She sat bolt upright, as if she had been expecting him to do something spectacular. When she saw him, she smiled.
He jumped from the edge of the river, to a stone in the middle of the waterfall, and from there pointed his hands above his head. He vaguely heard Lily shout something, but the water was so loud, that he assumed she was cheering him on. And so he dived.
It was exhilarating falling through the air, the wind rushing up against him as the water fell behind him, the blissful coolness of his tanned hands hitting the foaming water. Then, suddenly, something was wrong. The water was churning, pushing his body this way and that, he was unable to control where he was going, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t reach the surface, he was being pulled down river too fast, and suddenly the rock--
When he came to, he was on the sandy bank. The waterfall was a distant roar, a stream of blue several hundred metres away, and the sun was blinding. Sitting upright, he saw a soaked Lily, panting beside him.
“Next,” Lily paused to take a deep breath. “Next time you dive in, make sure,” she paused again. “it’s somewhere safe.”
“Sorry,” he spluttered, still coughing up water. She patted his back, and pulled her wand from her pocket, pressing it to his throat.
““Feel better?” she asked, and he nodded. She pressed her wand to his temple, healing the cut and cleaning the blood from his face. He also felt more refreshed, and guessed she’d also cast a spell to clear his slight concussion.
“Thanks,” Lysander said grudgingly.
“Am I your hero then?” Lily said, smiling.
“No!” he snapped. “I could have saved myself you know, I wasn’t drowning or anything.” Lily raised an eyebrow, but he continued to shake his head.
She suddenly smiled sadly. “You can be my hero then, if you want. I sure as hell need one.”
She didn’t answer, shaking her head. “Ignore your Auntie Lily. The heat is making me say silly things. Let’s get home.”
She stood up, and helped him stand as well. As they walked along the river, and then down a path through the jungle, Lysander thought that, actually, Lily was his hero. He held her hand, squeezing it tightly, and not letting it go until they were safely in his parents’ home.
Awwwwww . . . I really love this. It isn't anything I expected, but I love it even more. I really love how Lysander does all that just to cheer Lily up. Thank you so much for the wonderful drabble, mystery person!
Prompt Used: MAGIC
Rating/Warnings: 1st-2nd years/none, unless you count baby stuff/postnatal things
Word Count: 578
Author's Notes: I really hope you like this. It’s not particularly shippy, but it does feature the pairing. It is kind of fluffy, though, lol.
I’m not getting up. I’m not getting up.
Despite the loud, bawling cries Lily can hear, she doesn't immediately sit up. Instead, she lies in her bed, breathing heavily, wondering if she can catch a few more minutes’ sleep before getting up to feed him. Her eyelids feel as heavy as lead, and the pain of keeping them half-open is almost as much as the pain in the rest of her body.
Who knew that being a mother would be such hard work? Lily’s mother definitely didn't seem to find it so difficult—and she had had two children, not just one. Harry is only two weeks old, and already, Lily’s postnatal fatigue is getting to her. Her entire body aches, and her sleep-deprived brain is only just functioning enough for her to register her baby’s incessant screams.
She loves Harry. Really, she does. But—she can’t help but wish he could at least respond to her, somehow. All he’s done from the moment he was born is eat, sleep and poo. Lily is only Harry’s milk machine, really.
Harry’s cries are becoming more insistent now, and with a sigh, Lily heaves herself out of bed just as James stirs beside her. Harry quietens a little as she lifts him out of his cot, sniffs his nappy and sits on her bed, pulling down her nightshirt. But then he continues to cry, no matter how much Lily tries putting Harry’s head nearer to her breast.
“I don’t think he’s hungry, Lily.” James’s sleepy voice makes her jump. “Have you checked his nappy?”
“Yes,” she replies, trying not to sound impatient as she pulls up her shirt. “He hasn’t done a poo. I don’t know what’s wrong with him.”
“Do you want to give him to me?” he asks softly.
“No, it’s all right,” Lily says, more snappishly than she intended. But, really, she can’t help but envy James sometimes. Normally, when James picks Harry up, he stops crying pretty quickly. It’s not the same with Lily, though.
“Are you sure—”
“It’s fine, James,” she says again. Abruptly, Lily gets up, still holding Harry to her chest, and she opens the door, leaving the bedroom.
She tries rocking him for a few minutes as she walks up and down the hall, shushing him, and it is only then that she realises the only reasons she holds Harry is because she has to feed him. Lily hasn’t ever held him just because. Maybe, she thinks, as he stops crying and stares up at her with bright green eyes mirroring her own, that’s why he is crying. Maybe, for once, Harry doesn’t want his milk or his bum cleaned up. Maybe he just wants his mum.
“I love you, Harry,” she whispers to him, kissing his forehead and cuddling him. And though he obviously can’t reciprocate her words, Harry does make a small gurgling sound (perhaps of appreciation) just as James opens the bedroom door and steps out into the hall. Lily looks up and smiles at him. “Everything okay?” he asks.
“Yes, James, everything’s fine,” she says serenely. She returns her gaze to the child in her arms, and tears begin to form in her eyes as Harry’s tiny lips turn upwards — and form his first ever smile.
And, somehow, Harry’s smile is far more magical than anything Lily — or, for that matter, anyone else — could ever perform, and that makes all the difference in the world.
Awwww . . . . that was so sweet. :) I loved it!
I really love how (in the drabble) Lily isn't the perfect mother, and how James managed to mature with a child. :) Thank you so much!
Just . . . awww. :)
Title A Dream is A Wish
Pairing: Ron/Hermione, Dreams
AN I felt like doing a song fic. Also, the song is A Dream is A Wish from Cinderella
A dream is a wish your heart makes when you’re fast asleep.
Hermione rolls over yet again. Her dreams haunt her more than the empty bed above her. It has been a month since Ron had left, and yet he still comes to her in dreams of togetherness or dreams of terror.
It is the happy dreams that hurt her the most. With the nightmares, there was the sense of relief when she awakes, knowing that she’s okay, and that wherever he is, Ron’s okay too.
In dreams you will lose your heartaches.
The dreams of happiness leave a hollow in the middle of her heart. When she wakes up, all she is left with is the disappointment of his leaving. In those beautiful dreams where she holds him, she feels safe and warm, only to wake up to ever present danger and coldness.
Whatever you wish for, you keep.
She wishes for that safety; she wishes for him. If she could have it her way, she would live those dreams forever. The dreams where Ron was with her and all was free.
No matter how your heart is grieving...
Hermione’s heart breaks night after night, knowing he’s gone, knowing he didn’t care enough to stay, but yet she knows there are more important things, like freedom and friendship.
If you keep on believing...
And so she fights. She fights for her freedom, she fights for the lives of others, but most of all she fights so that someday, they will be together. She remembers that she must not keep focus on her dreams, rather she must live, and with living comes fighting.
There is too much to lose if she waits on him. Too much to lose if she lives in her dreams.
The dream that you wish will come true.
Someday, this will be over, and when it is, they will be together. When it is, her life will finally outshine her dreams.
This is so sad. I always wondered what was going on in Hermione's head when Ron left. Amazing drabble; thank you so much!
Prompt: Start Now
Because she is beautiful, Dominique is blasť about beauty in other people. But he is different.
He wears his hair – a white blond shock – scragged back in a ponytail as if he wants to hide his undeniable good looks. But all it does is bring the planes of his face into much sharper relief.
She finds herself in the position of not being able to look away, and this unnerves her.
“Scamander!” she raps. “Peel and slice those carrots. Starting NOW!”
“Sure, Madam Weasley,” he replies, and picking up his wand he waves it at the pile.
“With a knife,” she says. “If you want to learn how to cook properly, then you need to learn the basics.”
Lorcan shrugs, but picks up a knife and soon he has peeled all of the carrots. “Round or long?”
He turns his head and smiles at her. “Do you want these carrots to look like medallions or batons?”
I don’t give a f*ck.
“What do you think, Scamander?” she demands scornfully. “Is ‘Dominique’s’ a restaurant that serves home cooking? Or one that prides itself on serving the best and excelling in its presentation?”
She can see his shoulders shaking. “Batons, it is,” he mutters, starting to slice lengthways.
She takes a breath, trying to calm herself before she starts the mushroom filling for her Beef Wellington.
* * *
At the end of the night, the staff sit in the restaurant and have a nightcap. Dominique doesn’t usually join them because she knows they need that release to b*tch about her. Tonight, however, she opens up two bottles from the cellar and assures them that she is very grateful for their work. At the opposite end of the table, Lorcan is watching her as he lights a cigarette. As he exhales, he holds her gaze. She crosses her legs, and lifts the glass of wine to her lips.
“How has your first week been with us, Lorcan?” Her voice carries across the table, silencing the other speakers. He is about to reply, but then stands up and saunters towards her.
Dominique moves her chair, allowing him to edge in next to her, their thighs touching.
“Exhausting, but you’re a good teacher, Madam Weasley,” he says politely.
“Everyone calls me Dominique,” she replies. “You are allowed to, you know?”
“Dominique,” he murmurs, trying the word out on his lips. Then he smiles at her.
And in that moment, she knows she must have him.
They carry on talking; she’s not sure what he’s saying, or if her own words make sense, but he doesn’t move from her side, not even when people start to leave for the night.
She doesn’t care about the curious glances being thrown their way because she’s too entranced by his fingers, and the way they tap on his thigh when he talks, as if he’s trying to work out a rhythm in his words.
At last, they’re alone; the head waiter giving Dominique a weary salute as he takes the Floo back to his long-suffering wife.
She takes Lorcan’s hand, stopping whatever beat he’s trying to tap out, and holds his fingers to her lips. Leaning towards her, he presses his mouth to hers.
She slips her tongue in his mouth, the taste of wine and smoke mingling not altogether nicely. She pulls away.
“You shouldn’t smoke,” she reproves him. “It is off-putting.”
Lorcan laughs. Pulling out his packet of cigarettes, he crumples them in his hand. “I’ll give up,” he declares. “Starting now.”
I really liked this. :) I thought it was different; I love how you portrayed Dominique differently, and their thoughts. (mine are probably even less censored)
Thank you so much!!!!!
OH MY GOSH!!!!!! Thank you so much for ALL of the amazing drabbles! (Now that I know who you are :)) They were all lovely, (to put it lightly) and I'm actually just speechless when I read them! Thanks a million! (I'll go spam Alex, Soraya, and Maple's threads later;))