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Thread: Weekly Drabble Challenge - Theme: Snow - Results

  1. #11
    Name: Heather25x
    House: Hufflepuff!
    Title: Snowflakes in her Hair
    Warnings: AU (James and Lily didn't meet on the train in this)
    Words: 440

    ‘FIRE!’ Eleven-year-old James yelled, and he and Sirius threw snowballs in the opposite direction as hard as they could. James, heaving with laughter, his face pink from the cold, bent down behind the fort to quickly form some more snowballs. But before he could push together more than three handfuls of snow, he let out a little shriek of laughter and surprise as twenty or so huge snowballs were pelted towards him.

    As the other team – Peter and Remus – called for a time-out, James collapsed down into the soft, ice-cold snow, and turned to Sirius, who had done the same.

    ‘Great fight,’ James said, grinning. Sirius nodded, smiling, but out of breath. James peered over the fort, snowballs at the ready, trying to catch a glimpse of what the other team were doing, but instead of seeing heads bobbing up and down behind the opposite fort, his eyes caught something else.

    She was treading carefully through the snow in their direction, wrapped up tightly in a white scarf and her black cloak. Her long, red hair seemed to glisten even more so than the snow on the ground, flowing behind her with the winter gust.

    James dropped all the snowballs but one, and held it tight in his fist. Not taking his eyes of her, he threw the snowball gently towards the girl. It arced gracefully through the air and landed on the top of her head, crumbling to bits. The girl whipped around, a fierce look on her face which James loved straight away. She shook her hair furiously, and the remaining snowflakes floated to the ground, and her hair landed back on her shoulders, majestically.

    James’ heart lifted as the girl marched over to him furiously, snow flicking from her boots as she went.

    She stopped, towering over James and Sirius, who were still crouching on the ground. ‘Who threw that?’ She demanded, her hands on her hips. James stood up slowly, feeling as though his knees were about to buckle.

    ‘I – I did,’ James stammered. ‘Sorry, bad aim,’ he said, looking down at his feet shyly.

    The girl looked him up and down, and James couldn’t help but notice how stunningly green her eyes were.

    Finally, she dropped her hands to her sides and her face softened. ‘That’s OK,’ she said, smiling.

    They stared at each other for a moment, and suddenly it felt to James’ as though there was no one else in the world except for them.

    ‘I’m James,’ he said. The girl studied him for a moment, gazing into his eyes.

    ‘I’m Lily,’ she said, the snow gently falling and melting in her hair.

  2. #12
    Warnings:DH spoilers (if you can figure out who my character is!)
    Words: 226

    __________________________________________________ _________________
    As I looked out the castle window, I longed to feel the cold wetness of the flakes on my face, in my hair. I could still remember times, long ago, when I would tilt my head back and twirl, letting the flakes become mingled in my hair, kissing my cheeks. I wish I were back there still, along with my innocence.

    Maybe, just maybe, I can become that carefree again. Turn back time, just for this one night. Back to before I betrayed her, before my jealousy ran away with me.

    I go outside, to give it one last try, to forget the past that has haunted me for what seems like forever. To remember lighter days in the snow, maybe it will purify me.

    As the moon bears witness, I cast my face to the sky and throw my arms wide, as if in boastful prayer, begging the gods to look at me. They will not. As I hold my hands out in front of me, cupped to catch the delicate crystals, the gods mock me. The flakes pass right through my skin, untouched, and gather on the blanket of snow already there.

    If I could cry I would, but I know I can't, just as I knew the snow would go untouched. But still I tried, as I have every snowfall since my death.

  3. #13
    Name: Jule
    House: Gryffindor
    Title: Oliver's Snow
    Warnings: None
    Words: 421

    "Look, it's snowing!" cheered a second year. "Come on, let's go outside!"

    "Not again," grumbled Oliver. He groaned as looked out the window. Sure enough, there was a steady falling of snowflakes. A few had even begun to stick on the window of the Gryffindor Common Room. Oliver placed his pen over his charms essay and went over to take a look at the grounds.

    “Disgusting,” he uttered to himself. The Quidditch Pitch was already covered with a blanket of snow. All of the six hoops had a nice pile of flurries at the tip, and the benches were covered. The snow began to heap on top of the red, blue, green, and gold stands. If Oliver hadn’t memorized the layout of the pitch, he wouldn’t have been able to tell where the Gryffindor stands were; all of the towers had gone white with snow.

    It wasn’t that Oliver didn’t like the winter, he full out hated it. The dry weather damages his broom, even when it is locked up tight in its case underneath his four poster bed. Practice gets postponed due to frequent and severe changes in weather, and when he is able to hold a practice, he is unable to keep the team focused. The Weasleys are always rolling around in the snow, Harry is constantly pelting snowballs, Angelina and Alicia giggle at the twins, and Katie relentlessly zooms through the snow trying to write her name large enough to be seen from the Gryffindor Tower.

    What is it about snow that drives people crazy? It is just frozen and crystallized form of water. ‘If you want water, go jump in the lake!’ was Oliver’s opinion on it. It all melts into slush anyway. The slush mixes with the dirt on the ground and gets all murky. Then that murk stays there for about two weeks, slowly melting away back into water. It was a horrid cycle if you asked Wood. No matter which way you sliced it, snow is terrible, and winter is the worst season of them all.

    Oliver heaved a sigh, and shut the curtain over the window. If he had a charms essay to finish, he wanted no distractions. Shuffling back to his chair, the two eager second years from before brushed by hustling toward the door. They were dressed in thick jackets and scarves ready to brave the frosty cold. “How silly of them,” Oliver thought. “It’s just stupid snow.” He picked up his quill, dipped it into the ink, and began writing.

  4. #14
    Name: Gonz
    House: Hufflepuff
    Title: Magic in the Snow
    Warnings: DH Spoilers
    Words: 469

    You could feel your bones shaking as you sat shivering against a cold stone wall. You had pulled your cloak tighter around yourself in hope for some semblance of warmth, but the raggedy old thing was no protection from the harsh November wind.

    As you sat shivering, your fingers were itching for the old familiar presence of your wand. They itched for the wand that could bring warmth back into them once more. If only…

    You quickly shook those thoughts of hope from your mind; it would do you no good to hope. You are a beggar, you are no more worthless than a piece of trash, and you are not worthy of hope. You are doomed to wander the streets of Diagon Alley as a being no one would ever dare help or even look at until your dying day.

    You are one of the wandless.

    A drop of liquid settled upon your nose, which caused you to break out of your thoughts. As you reached up to brush it away, your eyes drifted upwards and you saw the beginnings of winter falling down toward you.

    Snow; it was a complication that you did not need for you knew that the snow would mean only your death. For you knew that one night you would fell asleep and in the morning only your frozen body would serve as a witness to your previous existence.

    Still, your eyes continued to watch the falling snow.

    When a snowflake settled upon your palm you marveled at its beauty, at the intricacy of its design. A memory of a time when you where young comes to you. It had been a time before you knew about wands or Hogwarts or the harsh reality of adult life. You had been outside playing in the snow with your family and you had been holding a single snowflake in your hand, just like you were right now. You had loved the snow and asked your mother how snow was made. She had laughed and wrapped her loving arms around yours and whispered, “Magic.”


    There was magic in the snow. Remembering that brought a burst of fresh energy to your weary body that let you forget about the cold and the rags. Leaping off the ground and thrusting your arms out to the sides, you tilt your head back and let the flakes of snow fall onto your cheeks and tongue.

    Twirling around you began to dance in snow. You danced among the flakes of swirling snow. You danced surrounded by the wonder of magic.

    They may have taken away your wand, your status, and your dignity, but as you danced alone in a forsaken alleyway you were able to take comfort in the fact that they could never take away your magic.

    Your snow.

  5. #15
    Title: To See the Beauty in a Melting Snowflake
    Name: Gin_Drinka
    House: Hufflepuff
    Warnings: None
    Words: 499 exactly.

    Severus didn’t like the month of December. He resented the Christmas cheer, the colorful lights and seasonal sweatshirts, because he’d never been asked to join in. He resented the cold and the ending of a long year that hadn’t seemed any different from the rest, showing no signs of offering changes for the next.

    Lily loved the moth of December. She spread the Christmas cheer, she put the lights on bushes outside her house and she wore the seasonal sweatshirts. She loved the cold, her warm breath in the air, hot chocolate and scarves. But most of all, she loved falling snow.

    And when she was around, Severus found a way to love the month of December too.

    He would wait for her by her house, bundled (albeit shabbily) from head to foot. And she would come running out the door, without glove or hat, breathing out repeatedly as they stood together in her front yard, just to see her light breath on the wind.

    “Breathe, Sev,” she’d tell him. “Isn’t it so cool?”

    Severus smiled at her and blew warm air in her face. She ducked away, pretending it was putrid.

    “You need one of Mum’s Christmas mints!” she exclaimed laughingly, backing away, leaving little temporary footprints in the snow.

    With one light push, she landed on the white ground. He threw back his head laughing, the way he could with no one else. She took up some snow in her hands and threw it at him, making him yelp. He bent down and took snow in his gloved hand, flinging it toward her. Lily screamed but didn’t retaliate. She just stood, wiped the snow from her front and opened her mouth wide toward the sky, stretching out her arms.

    The snow started to fall (it seemed to Severus) merely because she was waiting for it.

    Falling lightly from a heavy cloud, it spiraled peacefully down onto her face and hands, melting against the incomparable human warmth.

    “I love catching the little snowflakes,” Lily said, still gazing upward. “They’re so pretty and full of designs.”

    “You’re not going to catch any with bare hands,” Severus explained, practical as ever, “They’ll melt a moment after they touch your skin. Here, I’ll catch one for you; I’m wearing gloves.”

    He waited too, with outstretched hands, keeping his eyes open to see if a flake fell, for the gloves kept him from feeling.

    “Here.” He showed her a snowflake on his glove, the minuscule designs standing out upon black. “Now you can see it.”

    Lily watched the flake thoughtfully, her green eyes seeming much more alive in the season of endings and deaths he had not learned to see the beauty of.

    “Sure, I can see it,” she said, taking his hand and turning it upside down, so that the snowflake fell onto her hand, melting after only an instant. “But I just love to feel it melt against my hand, even if that means I can’t see it as long.”
    Wow, that was the first happier drabble I've written in a loooong time....

  6. #16
    Name: leahsm2
    House: Slytherin
    Title: Snowflakes
    Warnings: None
    Words: 441

    Lavender Brown sat on her bed in her dorm, trying different holiday decals on her fingernails. First she tried the pealing bells, too noisy she decided. Next, she tried the trees, with flashing lights. BORING. Finally, she tried the little dancing fairies, whose iridescent skirts swirled, changing color from red to green as they danced. Perfect!

    “Look, Parvati,” she exclaimed to her friend. “Won’t Won-Won love these?”

    Parvati, who was reclining on her own bed, trying to do her Potions homework looked at her friend, annoyed. True, they were best friends and had been for six years, but even she was getting tired of the Romance of the Century. She smiled weakly and nodded her approval. Just then, an orange streak jumped onto her bed, and her parchments went flying. Crookshanks took another flying leap and landed on the windowsill next to her bed.

    "Honestly," Lavender said. "That awful creature. Only Granger could come up with an absolute disaster like that!"

    "What on Earth is it doing?" Parvati asked as she followed the cat to the window. "It's the snowflakes. It's trying to catch them through the glass!"

    Sure enough, Crookshanks was sitting on the windowsill, his claws out, pawing at the snow as it fell past the window. He would stop and stare and then jump up, smashing into the glass, his front paws extended. He made a small, strange sound of frustration, then tried again.

    "Parvati," Lavender asked, a small smile playing at her lips, "don't you think it's getting stuffy in here?"

    Lavender walked over to the window and opened it slightly. The next time Crookshanks dove for a snowflake, he went careening out of the window. He slid halfway down the side of the tower, narrowly catching a parapet with his front claws. The cat hung there momentarily, then pulled itself up and bounded back in through the still open window. What small part of kneazle had been bred into him came out with a vengeance and he pounced on his victim. Lavender screamed and dove under her bed, the animal following. Parvati managed to get the enraged creature off of his prey just as Hermione entered the room.

    "What did you two do to Crookshanks?" She demanded, as the enraged fluff ball jumped into her arms.

    Hermione looked at the partially opened window and then at the guilty looking faces of her roommates. It didn’t take much imagination to figure it out. Hermione was astounded, not that her roommates would try to hurt her cat, as they were both avowed cat haters. She could not believe that these two boulderbrains thought they could outsmart Crookshanks!

  7. #17
    Sixth Year Ravenclaw
    Petrificus Totalus!
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    Dec 2006
    Primatech Paper Co.
    Name: MissBean
    House: Ravenclaw
    Title: Amends
    Warnings: None
    Words: 362

    They stepped outside and into the snow. Cold, crisp, cleansing snow.

    It was cold – naturally. A winter flavored scene draped the school grounds in a blanket of calm and white. The air was still and quiet, save for the crunching of their walk. Steps appeared behind and a blank parchment was settled before.

    “I’m sorry,” the girl said, tucking a lock of lank red hair behind her ear. The boy beside her flushed; the cold air had turned his face pink to begin, but now it became scarlet. He tried to murmur but in the silence of the air, his voice was magnified and he stayed quiet.

    They continued to walk an undecided route, bonds unknown pulling them along the same path. Neither looked up from the white below them.

    “I’m sorry, ok?” the girl said fiercely; her words were loud and stark within the emptiness of the surroundings. She looked up to the boy beside her with a furrowed brow. He narrowed his eye. “That’s not an easy thing for me to say, you should know that! I’m apologizing, I was wrong, so don’t rub it in my face and let’s just leave it at that.”

    They had stopped walking beside the edge of the forest and were looking at each other. The boy ran a hand through his shaggy crimson hair and cracked a smile.

    “Fine,” he said, lip twitching into a calm grin. The girl would kill him should he try to boast. Was he ever right?

    The snow crunched again as they turned back into the trodden path they’d made. The grounds looked different now; it was midday and the sky was slightly clouded, but the light wasn’t making this change. They’d seen the school blanketed in snow times before, but it now became a shelter. It was simple and colorless, but that simplicity seemed to scold those centered on abuse.

    The girl knew this somehow; the boy too. At a time like this, when the world itself was at peace with nature, a fight became an embarrassment. A great world of swirling, sprinkled snow cleansed both young people as they headed to the warmth of their home.
    lurky! pm to keep in contact please!

  8. #18
    Name: Pondering
    House: Ravenclaw
    Title: It Used To Snow
    Warnings: None
    Words: 498

    Monica Wilkins does not know it, but the time she spends looking out the window she is actually waiting for snow. Will it be coming soon? she wonders, but as soon as the thought crosses her mind, it is gone again, as fleeting as a drop of snow on a hot summer’s day.

    Why am I waiting for it to snow? she asks herself, but as soon as the question is posed, it melts, as she has seen so many snowmen do in the past, snowmen that were exquisitely crafted with her daughter’s careful hands.

    Daughter? The word flits around her mind; it seems as foreign as concept as snow is in an Australian city. She didn’t have a daughter. She didn’t have a daughter Before…

    ‘Before’ is what she calls the time that she can only recall hazily, the time Before she settled down in Australia. Who was she Before? Was she always Monica Wilkins? She does not know, and minutes after, the thoughts are gone, and Monica resumes her staring out the window.

    What she can remember is that she is waiting for something. Waiting for something that she feels will never return. Is it her daughter, or is it the snow?

    She shakes her head. She didn’t, doesn’t have a daughter. She wonders why it feels like she has been thinking of this daughter before. She wonders if she is losing her mind and she pictures it: small, fragile, crumbling like a snowflake being crushed in her hand.

    She opens the window, and hot air comes crawling in. In this humid heat, there is no chance for snow. But it always snowed at Christmas Before…

    Before, Before, Before.

    Why does she care about Before? Was life better Before? Was there snow at Christmas Before?

    She wants to cry, because even though she does not remember consciously waiting for it, her heart weeps for the absence of snow, how snow marked Christmas for her family, and how her daughter never came home for Christmas anymore.

    She frowns to herself. She doesn’t have a daughter.

    Her husband leaps out of the chair, to wipe away the tears that are spilling out of her cheeks. “Why are you crying?” he asks.

    “I miss the snow,” Monica whispers, her voice as quiet as snow falling gracefully onto the ground.

    He looks at her, his face contorting in confusion. “There is no snow,” he says firmly, trying to steer her away from the window.

    “It used to snow Before!” she exclaims insistently, trying, forcing her memory to comply; remember the way the snow used to look, how beautiful her daughter was when it was snowing all around her. Her daughter. Did she have a daughter?

    “There’s no ‘Before’,” her husband insists gently, but his words only feel like hailstones, battering her heart.

    She nods quietly, and then it starts to snow. Not outside the window, but only in her mind: the blizzard wiping the memories of her daughter away.


  9. #19
    Air Elemental
    Name: Air Elemental
    House: Gryffindor
    Title: The Dead Bird
    Warnings: Character Death
    Words: 333

    Her hand was as cold as snow. He pressed it against his face, letting the icy skin sting his cheek. It wasn’t right; she was the one with the rose-red cheeks that shone in the moonlight. Now they were pale and empty. Gone.

    Not that she smiled much, of course. Such a thing rarely graced his sister’s face, but when it did, it was as if all the colours of the world filled the room. Her laugh – a quiet giggle – would ring across the fields and flow alongside the wind. There was an unusual, warm feeling surrounding her when she was happy. A silent moment when all her agony and rejection melted away and this tiny bird let herself fly around the black trees and above the harsh grounds of winter. Until dusk came to claim her. Then she would sink back into her dark cage and stare at the cracks on the cellar ceiling, her thin woollen blanket draped across her knees and her arms shaking as they scratched helplessly at the floorboards.

    Now she was gone. Her soul was finally rested and the cage was unlocked. She was free.

    He didn’t have much time. Aberforth would return at any moment. The brother’s arms quivered with grief as he tried to straighten his sister’s body; lining up her arms with her sides and brushing her dirty dress down. An attempt to make her look neat and normal.

    A quick glance at the door told him that Gellert had fled. It lay wide open with the harsh dusk wind blowing in, making his robes flap around his ankles. He thought for a few moments about going after his friend, before deciding against it. He didn’t feel well and his chest hurt; whether from grief, guilt or bitter anger, he couldn’t tell.

    Looking down at her peaceful form one last time, he bent down, kissed her brow and walked away. He shut the door with a soft clack, and Ariana Dumbledore was left alone.

  10. #20
    Name: Mistletoe
    House: Slytherin
    Title: "I am..."
    Warnings: A bit of kissing
    Words: 396

    He wrenched his wrist from her calming grasp; angry that her simple touch could have this effect on him right now. Flinging the tapestry aside, he revealed their hidden rendezvous, but checked for other students all the same. Shooting his eyes down the length of the corridor, he irrationally chose his next action: out the great front doors and into the snow.


    The bitter wind cut into his thin cotton jumper as he attempted to slam the door, only to be abated by the harsh wind that was thick with flurries. His messy collar and rumpled tie whipped around his neck as he leaped down the stone steps.


    Shuffling through the ankle-deep snow, he heard the heavy slam of the oak door through the rising roar of the wind, and turning his head to shield from the heavy draft of snow, he saw the heavy black mane of hair flying through the wind, but he continued to move.

    He walked towards the lake, shoving his balled fists into his trousers in attempts to warm his slowly freezing fingers. Every so often he would hear a soft cry asking him to wait, but he acted as if it was taken by the swirling snow.

    Finally he stopped and turned, and she ran into him, not expecting such an abrupt stop. The still snow around his feet soaked into his trainers allowing for a small release of his pain into his benumbed toes.


    “Am I no more than a game, Andromeda? A secret pleasure for you to tantalise at your every whim?” He asked, voice shaking with anger. “I can’t take it anymore: the secret meetings, not so much as a glance in the halls, the sneers from your friends if I even happen to pass by.”

    Her dark, wide eyes searched his, “How could you be, Ted? Black women do not look for pleasure in Muggleborns; we are not in search of secret meetings and defacing the blood of our ancestry. I am not a Black. I am a Tonks.”

    Not allowing a thought to pass through his clouded mind, his calloused hands jumped from his pockets. Gently holding her face, he took a moment to gather her simple beauty as the snowflakes caught on her thick lashes before roughly lowering his lips to hers.

    Breaking away, she murmured, “I am a Tonks…”


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