Weekly Drabble Challenge: Scrapbook - Results

[kumydabookworm]

Name: kumydabookworm
House: Gryffindor
Title: Forgotten Hopes
Warnings: None
Words: 460

He watches Alice Cunningham page through the worn, leather book in her hand. Stupid pictures of smiling faces of herself when she was small. Who wanted to see pictures of themselves drooling or dirtying their pants like an uncontrolled freak, anyway?

His eyes glitter in the flickering firelight of the orphanage's kitchen and his fingers claw against the cracked wooden floor - white with tension. Alice, the girl who had a family once - she was probably so stupid that they didn't want her, and that's why she's here. Alice, the girl who never got questioned.

Of course, it was he who had caused the rabbits to hang themselves from the ceiling. Of course, it was he who had caused the cauldron to dump its scalding contents on the Dewey weakling.

Never mind that Alice, with her fair cheeks and ready smile, had been there both times. No, it was his name that first filled the Tyrant's mind. That damn caretaker thought she was helping the poor, little orphans by living here.

His fists clench, dragging thin trails in the beaten wood. He watches in surprise as the scrapbook suddenly flies towards him, hitting him in the stomach. The grunt of his pain is drowned by Alice's stifled shriek.

She gazes at him with wide eyes before scurrying out of the kitchen, and he glares at the pages. Of course, it was he who had caused the scrapbook to fly, not Alice. Biting his lip, he wraps trembling hands around the pages of the scrapbook, eyeing Alice's ridiculously happy-looking family.

Could anyone ever feel that way around me?

He pages through the sheets of birthdays, families, friends, and sunshine, his fingers gently tracing the details of a life he wants to know. Eagerly absorbing the sights, he ignores Alice's ridiculously bright smile in favor for a beautiful woman with black hair.

Is this what Mother would have looked like? Absently, he fingers the golden locket he stole from Mrs. Cole's desk months ago as he dwells on the light twinkling of the woman's eyes.

Mrs. Cole's voice shakes the pots boiling on the stove. "Tom Riddle! What have you done now, you dratted animal?"

A wistful look twists into a grimace, and then into a defensive scowl. Tensing his fingers white on the pages, he tears them with a heartwrenching stroke, destroying the evidence of the crime in one ruthless gesture.

Of course, it was he who would get in trouble.

Scraps of paper float to the ground as children scamper into the room in front of an apopletic woman. Laughing faces spread across the wooden floor are quickly blackened by dirty footprints. Alice cries harder, clutching Mrs. Cole's skirts.

Tom's eyes glitter as his hands relax...the fingers remaining white.

[hermione210]

Name: hermione210
House: Gryffindor
Warnings: Mention of character death
Word Count: 334

She ran up the stairs, clutching her child to her chest. She bolted into his room and locked the door; a simple gesture that she knew would have no effect.

As she ran across the room to lay the baby in his crib, she nearly tripped over a book lying on the floor. She placed the baby in his crib and picked up the book. She knew what the book contained, but she opened it anyway.

She allowed her eyes to brush the photographs as her fingers turned the pages. Her baby pictures were first. They were harmless. They didn’t do anything strange. But she knew what would come next. They were anything but safe.

She knew she shouldn’t turn the page. She knew the memories that would come with the pictures. But she didn’t have control of her fingers anymore. Someone else controlled her. Someone else turned the page. Someone else’s fingers brushed that first picture.

That first moving picture.

But she was the one who had to deal with the memories. Herbology… Ancient Runes… Transfiguration… Evenings in the Gryffindor common room, writing essays… All the trouble that James and his friends had gotten into… All the times James had asked her out.

All the times she said no…

And the time she said yes.

A drop of water splashed onto the page.

“Why?”

The single word, spoken so softly she could barely hear it, said it all. Why them? Why their baby? But… who had said it? Her head jerked up and she looked around, sure there was someone else besides her in the room.

There was no one else in the room.

She was still alone.

Her friends had been killed. Her husband was fighting for his life and, though she didn’t want to acknowledge it, would probably lose.

And she would be dead soon too, most likely. She only had a few moments left.

But not my son. HE will live, she promised herself. No matter what, he will live.

[MithrilQuill]

I hope you all know how unfair it is for you to write such lovely drabbles and then expect anyone to choose from them...nevertheless thank you all for those wonderful drabbles. I had a nice time reading all of them...and yes, I cried.


*cough*


*Drumroll*


First Place:
A Bit to Bring Along by ProfPosky

AND

Tea and Approval In Azkaban by Masked One


Second place:
Montage by Marley


Third Place:
House of Twigs by Zara Ravenwood


PS: Jan...you write Severus so well I was about to accept the idea of him having a scrapbook of all things for about three seconds before I realized where you were going. Yeah, awesome drabble!


*huggles all authors*