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Thread: Weekly Drabble Challenge # 4 - Results!

  1. #11
    GreyLady
    Guest
    Author: GreyLady
    House: Ravenclaw
    Title: Breathing
    Topic: Resolution
    Warnings: Uber-angst? Oh, and a swear word.
    Words: 253--rather short, isn't it *is sheepish*

    Ginny couldn’t breathe.

    She knew it wasn’t right, that he had manipulated her and that she shouldn’t feel this way—but she did.

    She couldn’t get enough oxygen. It was as if a hole has been carved out of her chest, and the only thing that was keeping her from breaking into a million little pieces was the mantra that she whispered brokenly under her breath. She rocked back and forth, back and forth with her hands around her knees.

    It’s not my fault, it was Tom, Dumbledore said it was, I’m not evil because I was his friend, it’s not my fault, it’s not, it’s not, none of it is my fault.

    And then, like a stab in the heart--

    It’s not my fault that he made me love him.

    A small, raw sob was wrenched itself out of Ginny, and she nearly threw up in disgust as the shame rolled over her in waves. She had spent every day eagerly waiting, waiting and waiting to see his deceptively refined writing to appear offering sympathy, a bit of wit, a word…anything. She now realized it with sickening clarity: she couldn’t have broken away from him even if she had realized what was going on.

    I will never let anyone do that to me again.

    I will be strong.

    I will live.


    Ginny took an experimental breath, deep, filling —and found that it satisfied her starved lungs. Tom could go to hell. She sat up straighter and lifted her chin defiantly.

    Never again.

  2. #12
    crazy_purple_hp_freak
    Guest
    I posted a question in Question Corner about my character, but haven't had a reply yet. I don't want to miss the deadline, so I'm posting my drabble anyway. The character is Mrs Cole...I hope that's okay.

    Author: crazy_purple_hp_freak
    House: Slytherin
    Title: Coming Home
    Topic: Giving Back
    Warnings: None
    Words: 494

    Five o’clock on New Year’s Eve, and it was getting dark. Megan Cole was walking as fast as she could without slipping on the icy street. Light sleet had begun to fall, and it was bitterly cold. Megan’s toes were frozen in her boots, and her thin woollen scarf was already soaked with snow. She hugged two warm bags full of hot buns and bread rolls close to her chest. It was comforting to know that she could go home to such luxury.

    Home. The orphanage. It wasn’t the comforting refuge where one’s family lived. No – life was hard there; you had to pull your weight, do the washing, the cleaning, the cooking, run on errands in the cold. But ultimately it was worth it. Mrs Talbot, the Matron, had trained them well, and the children never went hungry, were perfectly content, in a way.

    Megan stopped at the side of the road, waiting patiently as an elegant carriage passed, thick blinds shielding the occupants from view. She used to dream about those carriages, wishing and hoping that some day, a kindly lady would adopt her, whisk her off to a life in the lap of luxury. But she was old enough to see sense now, and she was content living at home. Someday, she even hoped to help others like herself.

    The sleet was fiercer now, and Megan pulled up her hood, dashing the last few yards to the orphanage’s front steps.

    A figure was crouched at the foot of the gate; a small, thin face framed by bedraggled hair gazed up at Megan briefly.

    She stopped, wondering what she should do. The sleet was getting heavier, the buns were getting cold, and Mrs Talbot would not be pleased if she was late home.

    “Pl – please.” The figure shifted slightly, and Megan was astonished to see that it was a young girl, barely older than herself. The girl’s skin was tinted blue with cold, thin rags barely covered her body, a large bump protruded from her stomach; she was pregnant.

    “P – please help me.” The girl lifted her hands briefly, but dropped them quickly as if she hadn’t even this much energy remaining in her weak body.

    Megan stood, torn. She knew that the orphanage was already overcrowded; they couldn’t really take another one in. There had been a recent outbreak of flu, and many of the staff were still in bed, recovering; there weren’t enough people to carry out a childbirth. She could take the girl to the hospital, but the journey would probably kill her.

    The girl tried to stand, her numb blue fingers desperately grasping the railings. Megan could see that this was her last chance; this girl had lived a life ten times harder than Megan’s. Yet here she was, not giving up, still hopeful, even at the brink of death.

    It was New Year’s Eve…one more person wouldn’t hurt.

    Megan opened the door, and let the girl in.
    ooh *has another one!*

    Author: crazy_purple_hp_freak
    House: Slytherin
    Title: A part of the family
    Topic: Resolution
    Warnings: None
    Words: 498

    “Eez this all?” she asked, a look of pure disdain on her face.

    The room was small. Perhaps some would have called it ‘cosy’, but to Fleur Delacour it was just another symbol of the poverty that she was about to marry into.

    “Zere eez no sunlight! I cannot see zee trees!” She was exasperated now; surely her wants were only minimal? They had always been taken for granted in the House of Delacour, and in the ‘Palace of Beauxbatons’. But the Burrow was no palace, no place for a princess like her.

    “Eet is too cold for such thin sheets!” She sighed. At home she had always had whatever she wanted; this was different.

    “I’m sorry Fleur! This is all we have, I’m afraid.” Her soon-to-be mother in law looked both sorry and slightly annoyed, yet Fleur detected a slight hint of embarrassment in her tone. “You’ll just have to make do.” She hurried off again, to raid the ironing cupboard, to search and search for more sheets, better linen; things that she knew they didn’t have.

    Fleur was left alone, in her new room. She knew that not all of the family approved of Bill’s match. Perhaps they thought she was too different, that she’d never fit in…well, they were probably right.

    It room was all right really; she could tell that Molly had worked hard to make it as homey as possible; she didn’t need to really. On the quaint little bedside cabinet, Fleur had placed her favourite picture. It was one of her, with Bill. She looked at it now; she gazed at herself, her face a picture of pure happiness, laughing as she stood close to the one she loved. Bill, he was the one she wanted to be with. She knew that.

    So did it really matter what the room was like? Did it really matter that it was a bit dark, a bit cold? If she was going to be part of the family, she guessed she would have to live like the rest of them. She could do that…she wasn’t a complete snob.

    She didn’t need a bigger room really; the small room was cosy, easier to clean, better. She had her own blankets for when it was cold, Molly and Arthur could keep theirs, they’d probably need it. The sunlight was outside, on the trees, she didn’t need it in here as well.

    “Fleur!” It was Molly again. “I’ve found some more blankets for you, if you really want them…and I’m sorry about the shade, we’ll get you some nice blinds, and we can paint the room a brighter colour. Is that what you have in France? We could – “

    Fleur crossed the room, put her hand on Molly’s shoulder.

    “No, don’t bother. You’ve worked hard enough already. Thanks for making me feel so welcome, like part of the family.”

    And she was going to act like family, starting from now.

    “Come on, I’ll help you with dinner downstairs.”

  3. #13
    Pondering
    Guest
    Author: Pondering
    House: Ravenclaw
    Title: Dying Inside
    Topic: Giving Back
    Warnings: Metions of character death
    Words: 370

    I don’t know how to comfort you. I don’t know how to tell you that everything will be all right. I can’t, because that would be a lie. It’s not going to be okay. Ginny is gone, and you know it.

    You’ve done your job, you’ve saved the world, but what is there left now? Nothing. No Ginny is there to welcome you home, no young toddler clinging onto her legs.

    And I wonder how easily it could have been me. It could have been my girlfriend, my happiness who had died, if Lord Voldemort had chosen to come after me. But no, Neville Longbottom is just sitting beside you, wondering if anything he can say could make it better.

    It’s exactly three years now, since Ginny died, and the pain still won’t fade away for you, will it? You’re safe now, but you have no hope for the future.

    You may have lived through the war, but can’t you see it’s killing you inside? I don’t know how to comfort you, because all the words of comfort I can utter come back to saying how lucky I am, how lucky I am that there’s going to be a warm meal waiting for me when I get back home, that there’s going to be a little one-year-old happily awaiting the return of her father, so he can tuck her in and read her a bedtime story.

    I’m lucky, and I know it, so why can’t I use that luck to help you get better? I put an arm around your shoulders and reassure you that things will improve, that you might feel happy soon.

    You flash me a sad smile from underneath your lopsided glasses. It’s the first time I’ve tried to encourage you to live again, and I feel bad for not doing it before. Everyone else has tried, Ron, Hermione, Luna…but none of them have gotten through to you. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because Ron and Hermione are happily married now, and you don’t want to invade in that.

    Luna is known to be a bit alarming in her cheering methods.

    “I’ll try,” you say, smiling.

    It is the best I can hope for, for now.

  4. #14
    kumydabookworm
    Guest
    Author: kumydabookworm
    House: Gryffindor
    Title: Fortune's Fickle Face
    Topic: Giving Back
    Warnings: None
    Word Count: 338

    "Help me."

    She never expected him, of all people to act like this. Hair tousled, skin dappled with dangerous purple shadows, lips close to bleeding. She wished he had been this way sooner.

    She spared a glance for his hand, nails black under the edges, dirt creased into the grooves of his palm, and her mouth twisted up in a near smile. For years, he had been so different.

    When she danced with him, he had led to perfection, hands at the waist, head held straight, robes impeccably starched. But she had wanted this. She had wanted hands running over dress robes, fiery looks, ravaging kisses. She had wanted need.

    Through all those years at Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy had scorned her. When she was at her most vulnerable, he sneered and laughed. Yet, he hadn't had the kindness to set her free from the heartless hold of innocent love - he had accepted her pathetic gestures when it pleased him, making her believe she had a chance.

    Now, he stood before her, nearly begging, so desperate. She wished he had needed her sooner, so that she could take some pleasure in this. As she turned to walk away, she felt a hand grasp the silken folds of her dress.

    She barely caught a gasp in the depths of her throat. Fingers searching for skin, nails scratching the softness of her calf, tracing wild patterns into her skin. Fiery pain leapt from the welts straight into her heart, and she felt her pulse throb beneath his wanton fingers.

    She froze.

    She had everything she wanted. She had her name, her pride, her money. Draco had nothing but darkness and dirt - danger and the Dark Mark branding his skin.

    "Please, Pansy."

    If her luck ever ran out, she would fall - like him - and have nothing of her own. She could have been him, even now. But if she helped him...perhaps his need could keep her warm at night - even if fortune turned its face away.

    "Alright."
    Author: kumydabookworm
    House: Gryffindor
    Title: Fear
    Topic: Resolution
    Warnings: None
    Word Count: 388

    Lavendar Brown watches the shut trapdoor, wishing the staircase would come out and everything would be alright again.

    "Professor Trelawney?" she calls timidly.

    No response. Before, there would have been an airy "Hello, Lavendar," or perhaps a whisper of a rustling shawl, but now...nothing. Lavendar bit her lip. Yesterday, Parvati would have been here with her. All of the Gryffindors would have been - Ron with his gorgeous red hair, Dean with that beautiful brown skin, and of course Harry Potter with those startling eyes. Yesterday, she would have brought flowers, because it wasn't a full moon and therefore picking flowers wasn't bad luck.

    Today...there was no professor, there were no flowers, and no students crowded the corridor. She remembered the way the peaceful woman had screamed in front of the entire school. She remembered the look on that horrid Umbridge's face when Dumbledore kept her in Hogwarts.

    She sighed. Professor Trelawney had been a friend. She, Parvati, and Lavendar herself had gathered around tea cups, attempting to find their futures. For Lavendar, it had always been about love. Parvati had only thought of fame. But Professor...why, the professor had looked and looked only for death.

    Lavendar remembered the way Sibyll - "Never call me that in public, girls, or I'll get in trouble" - had spoken about death, her tone hushed but her eyes deathly, deathly afraid. She remembered the way Sibyll hid behind portents and omens, nearly never leaving her room - where symbols and rituals kept her safe.

    Sibyll - Professor Trelawney - was always afraid.

    Suddenly, Lavendar remembered how she used to walk three circles around her bed for good luck, or pull the petals off daisies to make a boy love her. She remembered the way Parvati began to look at her strangely as she did her rituals.

    She remembered the constant fear she felt when the boys teased her. She thought of the tea leaves she read afterward to see if the boys truly didn't like her - remembered changing a leaf shape from a club to a star, just so the leaves would affirm that they liked her.

    Lavendar slowly turned back to climb down the stairway and back toward the Common Room. Tomorrow, she would give Sibyll flowers, and leave the North Tower forever.

    Tomorrow, she would be less afraid.

  5. #15
    MithrilQuill
    Guest
    Sorry for the slight delay, but the results are in!


    There were so many good ones this time and all of you did an excellent job, but here are the winners!

    *drumroll*

    First Place:

    Breathing by GreyLady


    Second Place:

    Colorful by Mind over Matter


    Third Place:
    Fear by Kumydabookworm

    And I've got a couple of special mentions this time around:

    Breath of Sanity by FuzzyMuffins
    and
    Preserve his Legacy by myownmuggle

    As usual the thread will be reopened for you guys to discuss the drabbles etc.

  6. #16
    Fifth Year Gryffindor
    I See Dead People... In Mirrors

    Join Date
    Aug 2006
    Posts
    235
    Okay. Seems like no one has anything to say about these drabbles. I don't either, at least, not about other drabbles. But I have something increadibly embarrassing to say about my own drabble.

    Oh dear... I can't belive I used bandage instead of badge. This. Is. So. Embarrassing.

    I feel so bad.... soo bad... *sniff*

    Ayse edits this almost a year later: I can't believe that so much time has passed since I posted that very first drabble of mine. A very, very late thank you, Mithril.
    The Run of the Mill

    The phenomenal banner is by MissBean

  7. #17
    MithrilQuill
    Guest
    lol! Don't worry about it, it happens to everyone...(we can always blame it on the keyboard)...I thought your drabble was pretty good actually, and you characterized Remus very nicely.

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