Here we go with Weeeeeeek Fiiiiiiive
(Excuse me, I'm getting rather excited!)
Here was the prompt for the brave brawlers:
And below are the five drabbles.
There are five words below. You must use them in your drabble. They may be used in any order. You may change words slightly, so using plurals is allowed as is changing them to be adjectives or verbs. For example: you may change towel to towelling.
AAAAAND, because I like a catch ... this must be Marauder era (1971-1978) and based at Hogwarts. (Don't feel as if you have to write one of the Marauders, though, there are other characters.)
Please vote using your consummate skill as fine purveyors of exquisite drabbling to choose not only the most wondrous of all drabbles this week, but also the one that didn't quite match up. I know it will be hard. At this stage it always is.
Title: The Girl That Was
Word Count: 500
Warnings/Ratings: 1st-2nd years; Mild Profanity
The problem is that Lily Evans was never just a mother or a wife. She was not the sensible Head Girl, or James Potter’s love interest, or the displaced Mudblood heart of Severus Snape. Lily Evans was not, is not, never will be those things because she was someone much more.
But she ends as a statue. She ends stretching out to save her son, honourable in death as she was in life. After, those who are left behind to freely mourn talk about her in reverent whispers, in raised glasses, in wet-cheek anniversary speeches. Lily Evans is forever red and gold, brave and true, immortalised as the woman who saved the world with love.
No one talks about her temper in the mornings, or the way she would take too long in the dormitory bathroom. Lily Evans was wet towels left on the shower floor, strands of hair in the sink, her mauve shampoo seeping from the cupboard and onto the tiles, waiting to slip up Mary Macdonald.
No one talks about her sweet tooth, or her swift fingers at dinnertimes, how no Gryffindor plate was safe when poached pear tart was served for dessert. No one talks about the way she dumped an entire trifle on Sirius Black’s head when he told her to stop going on about the damn house elves, or the way she popped a cherry in her mouth afterwards and flicked more chocolate flakes in his eye.
She didn’t stop going on. She didn’t stop going on about rights, equality, blood supremacy, or activism—all those uncomfortable things that apathy tries to cover with awkward laughter. Lily Evans was the rage that never let that laughter settle, even when it meant she didn’t have time to organise the prefects roster, or was late for a meeting with Professor Dumbledore, or dozed off in Transfiguration because she’d been up all night comforting a homesick first-year.
No one says that while she was a friend to many, she was a foe to more. Lily Evans was the beating drum that pushed others to come forward, to stand up in class at poisonous words, to be the impetus for change even when it felt like a lost cause. She was grit, passion, dirty words, and ruthless anger at injustice.
No one talks about how she liked to dangle her feet in the lake, conjure up smutty tales of the Squid and its lady-squid-friend, and then snigger quietly to herself afterwards at inappropriate moments. Or that she snapped at her friends when they used her hairbrush even though she didn’t have time to do her hair in the first place and didn’t really give a damn anyway.
Lily Evans does not die with the cowardice of Tom Riddle, or the survival of her child, or with the last clod of earth thrown into her grave.
It is when the last person who truly knew her dies.
It is when she stops being a someone and becomes a saint.
Word Count: 496
Warnings/Ratings: 3rd-5th year, reference to bullying and strong violence.
A/N: Barty Crouch Jr. was nineteen in 1981 when he was sent to Azkaban, which would put him in the time frame at Hogwarts. I find him to be a fascinating character.
Barty Crouch Jr. surveyed the wreckage on the chessboard. Nathaniel Parkinson didn’t know it, but the game was already over. Nathaniel fidgeted in his seat as the evening dwindled down into night. They were the only two left in the common room. Most of the students were in their dormitories asleep by now. Barty would soon fall asleep himself if that dullard Parkinson didn’t make his move soon.
His boredom was soon interrupted when Severus Snape stumbled through the common room door. He held a towel to his battered face. Crouch watched out the corner of his eye as the white towel turned mauve. This wasn’t the first time he had seen Snape with a cut or a bruise.
Barty drummed his fingers impatiently on the edge of the table, and waited for Parkinson to make his decision, and all the while he watched Snape. His absurdly pear-shaped companion had yet to notice the newcomer.
“Was it Black again?” Barty Crouch asked, shattering the silence around them.
Severus froze near the fireplace, suddenly realizing he wasn’t alone in the room. Parkinson’s head popped up, and a dumb smile flickered onto his face. It was a trifling thing, his smile, but it irritated Crouch. He ignored his irritation, and focused on Snape.
“It’s nothing,” Severus responded.
“Your black eye says otherwise. How long are you going to remain weak? I know someone who can make you stronger--”
“No!” Snape snapped. “I can’t. She wouldn’t understand.”
The firelight sharpened the features of Severus’s fury as it danced across his face. Right now, the “she” in question wasn’t the only thing he had on his mind.
“Ah, the Muggle-born. Well tell me this. How can she respect someone who can‘t defend themselves? I know someone who can teach you how to do that, and you’ll always have a group watching your back. No one will bully you again. Besides, what harm can going to one meeting do?” Barty asked innocently.
“Just one meeting?” Severus responded.
He had had this conversation with Severus before, but now the fair-haired boy was finally seeing a crack in Snape’s resolve. Crouch was a knight, the warrior whose shield would protect and aid the king. The Dark Lord would have his army, and he was going to help him get it. Severus Snape may not have the pedigree as some of his more recent recruits, but he had the intelligence that Voldemort wanted.
“Just one,” Barty answered, a smile tugging at his lips.
Severus studied him for a moment, and then nodded. He would come to the meeting. Snape then turned, and headed towards the dormitories. At that moment, Parkinson made his move, and snickered as his rook decimated Crouch’s bishop. The fool had still not seen Crouch‘s knight.
Barty looked once more towards Severus’s retreating back. Every army must have their pawns. Crouch smiled. He had won. Barty made his final move, and watched as his knight moved in on Parkinson’s king.
Title: Of Potions and Dates
Word Count: 380
Warnings/Ratings: 1st-2nd, none
A/N: Dictionary.com has many interesting definitions for pewter, one of which being "a kind of pewter of medium hardness."
Sirius and James were sitting at their table, adding unicorn tail hair to their potions. The new term had just started, and the boys were still enjoying the feeling of freedom that only summer could bring, and were thus not focusing so much on their potions but on the class around them.
"Look at Evans, sharing a table with Remus. She could've shared a table with me, but no, she chose Remus," James said, pretending to look a little hurt.
"Clearly she knew that we could never be separated," Sirius replied, shooting a glance over at the red haired girl who was sitting across the aisle from him.
Lily turned and looked at the boys. "Or maybe she actually wanted to get some work done without having to listen to you two all day."
"Ouch," James said, again mocking pain.
"You pain him, Evans," Sirius said, shaking his head. Lily rolled her eyes and turned back to her potion.
"Your potion should be a lovely shade of mauve at this point," Professor Slughorn said as he walked through the aisles.
James snuck a look at Sirius' potion, which was much too violet to be mauve. "Hey, why is your cauldron such a funny shape?"
"Well, James, they were selling new cauldrons in Diagon Alley called trifle cauldrons."
"Like the dessert?" James asked.
"That's what I thought!" Sirius replied. "Turns out it's like a medium hard pewter cauldron. But it's a funny name, so I bought it."
"Now I really want trifle," James sighed.
"Date with the pear tonight?" Sirius whispered.
"Well," James said as he raised his voice so Lily and Remus could hear, "since Evans refuses to go out with me..."
Lily was drumming her fingers on the table. "Could you two just be quiet?"
"Come on, Evans, just one date?"
"It doesn't even have to be fancy, just drinks at the Three Broomsticks." James gave her his best pouting face.
"If you think that I'm just going to throw in the towel because you are pouting, you're wrong, Potter. I will never date you!"
At that moment, the bell rang. Lily bottled her potion, brought it to the front, cleaned up her station, and flounced out of the room before James even got the chance to reply.
Title: A Close Encounter
Word Count: 499
Ratings/Warnings: 1st yrs; none
A/N: I started out wanting to do Petunia, Lily, and Snape, but somehow I could not get the Marauders out of my head. Go figure.
“Come on, Remus,” Sirius whispered as the foursome scurried down the halls.
“I don’t understand why we all had to come,” Remus grumbled. “It’s bad enough just knowing that you, Peter, and James are out and about past curfew.”
Sirius just rolled his eyes, but said nothing. They had just reached the painting of the fruit bowl, and James reached up to tickle the pear.
“Oh, Remus, lighten up,” James said. “The house elves don’t mind us, and besides, we won’t get caught. We have the Marauder’s Map.”
“I’m a prefect, James. We aren’t supposed to be breaking the rules now.”
Peter nervously glanced at Remus and then at James, but he didn’t say a word.
James grinned. “Then I guess you can go back to bed all by yourself.”
Remus groaned, but he followed his friends into the kitchen. The elves delightedly greeted them in their usual tea towels, bustling about with trays of pasties and biscuits. Reluctantly, Remus accepted some of the food with a nod of his head.
“Any chance of butterbeer?” James asked aloud, that silly smile still on his face. Remus couldn’t help but laugh, and he tried to shake off the uncomfortable feeling he had about breaking rules.
After a few minutes of gathering sweets and drinks, James took a look at the map to determine the best route to their next destination. He yelped.
“What?” Sirius inquired, trying to get a look at the parchment.
“We need to get out of here. NOW!”
The four boys barreled out the kitchen door and started down the hall, but not fast enough.
“Just what do you think you are doing?”
As one, the boys turned to face their opponent, whose green eyes were flashing dangerously.
“Evans! Nice mauve shirt,” James delightedly announced, as though he thought he could win her over. Unfortunately, her arms were crossed, and her expression told them that she was anything but happy. In the silence that followed, her fingers tapping against her forearm sounded like a drum.
James looked sideways at his friends for help, but they all stared stonily at Lily, as though afraid of what she would do.
“Evans, I thought I might get you a treat, see?” He indicated the food in his arms. “Care for a trifle?”
She gave a slight raise of her eyebrow. “You thought you would run around past curfew and get me something to eat?”
Sirius gave a small snicker, and James paled slightly. “Yes?” he hesitantly answered.
Lily slowly smiled, and she swiftly gathered all of the food from James’ stash. Surprised, James stumbled back.
“I’ll inform the headmaster of how kind you are,” she stated, and she turned on her heel, red hair swishing behind her.
When she had disappeared, the four boys began to quickly make their way back to the common room.
“That was close,” Sirius breathed. “I thought she would give us detention.”
“So did I,” James whispered softly, now deep in thought. “So did I…”
Title: The Choice in the Making
Word Count: 479
Warnings/Ratings: 1st-2nd years; Angst, Mild (Wizarding) Profanity
A/N: The evening of a certain lake scene in the Marauders' 5th year
Lily was mad.
To be honest, only half of her was mad. The other half wondered how she didn't know to expect something like that to happen eventually.
After all, it was the natural progression of the path he had chosen. One couldn't sit on two chairs at once; one couldn't be friends with pure-bloods like Avery and mudblods like Lily Evans.
She finished toweling her hair with an angry huff. Truly, at this moment, she could not tell whom she despised more – Potter the Prat, or Severus the… She'd have to think of something.
Lily entered – stormed into? – the dormitory, finding it empty, apart from Mary. Mary was reading in bed, her light brown hair held in a ponytail by a mauve ribbon. She glanced up at Lily and sighed.
"Don't you take it to heart, Lily. He was just…"
"…just what, Mary? Disgustingly rude? A bitter, disappointed little traitor – ooh, if I could just…!"
"Lily, what he said was disgusting, no question. But you know how he gets around Potter – and how Potter gets around him."
"I don't get it, though! Why do they have to be such…" Lily plopped onto her bed, taking a pear from the nearby table and biting into it.
"…boys," Mary finished sagely. "They are just spoiled boys, both of them."
"Potter without a doubt. But Severus isn't spoiled! Not in the way you mean. He is being spoiled – ruined – by those cronies of his."
"Severus is spoiled by your attitude to him," Mary said. "For a long time, he was your best friend, and you do have lots in common. But he decided you'd be his best friend no matter what, even if he got mixed up in a crowd he knows you hate, even he developed interests you disapproved of."
"Sometimes I can't recognize him," Lily muttered, her heart drumming with anger and worry, both directed at Severus. "He is drunk on their ideas – his eyes burn when he talks about them. Doesn't he realize that he can't have me and them together?"
"I think he hopes he can," Mary shrugged. She bent over to retrieve a tin of trifle her mother sent her with a note "brain food for OWLs." Lily disliked trifle, so none was even offered. "See, Lily, I think he just can't bear to think he'll have to choose between you and them at some point – so he just puts it out of his mind. And today, his two worlds collided – he was humiliated in front of you and his Slytherin buddies."
"Well, his choice is made, whether he knows it or not," Lily said. "The mudblood won't impose on him anymore."
And even though they'd meet again and again, and her burning anger would fizz into colder resentment, and they'd sometimes work on Potions together, the mudblood never imposed on her erstwhile best friend again.
Such fabulousness. I know it will be hard to vote, but please do. Oh, and leaving comments is very helpful to all the brawlers.