The first two are ones that I did for VV's Fall NEWT DADA class. The last one is my favorite that I wrote for the Monthly Drabble Challenge: Dumbledore that I won second place for. And the one about Narcissa was the first drabble that I ever did.
Words: Er... no idea. I have WordPerfect, not Word. But I remember that it was under 500.
Warnings: none, except the usual Pureblood mania
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
Her father’s words stung Bellatrix. He was supposed to be proud of her! She was going to be doing what they had always talked about doing – ridding the Wizarding world of the filth that was infesting it.
“What do you mean, Papa?” she asked. Although her words were innocent, her voice and eyes betrayed the anger inside her.
Her father looked up from the Daily Prophet article he was reading. “That band is just common riffraff. It would not do well for a daughter of the Black family to be seen with such… lowly… company.”
“They are not,” she challenged him. “You’ve heard what they’ve done. The Prophet reports on them everyday. You’ve seen it with your own two eyes.” She was referring, of course, to the Mark. His mark. It had hung above the house of a Mudblood family not half a mile from them.
“I saw Grindelwald do it, too, and there are still half-bloods and filth in our world,” her father spat. “This one will be no different. He will fall, and you will bring us shame.”
“He will not fall,” Bellatrix hissed, and her eyes flashed dangerously. Her father narrowed his eyes at her, as if seeing her for the first time
“Rudolphus,” he said, finally. “He joined them, too, didn’t he?”
Bellatrix remained silent.
“Ah,” he nodded. “I should have guessed. Did we raise a daughter who cannot think for herself? Perhaps the match between you two was a mistake.”
“Rudolphus and I are more concerned about the salvation of our race than you, it would seem!” Bellatirix shrieked. “How dare you denounce our union? I will be a Lestrange, and when the Dark Lord is victorious-”
“Have you not thought of your mother in this?” her father interrupted. “Or your sister? Lucius Malfoy was hesistant to come forward with his intentions for Narcissa because of Andromeda’s behavior. She almost ruined us! We don’t need you and your… Dark Lord destroying us further!”
With this Bellatrix brandished her wand. “Enough! I will not tolerate it!”
Her father stood up to his full height, glowering down upon her. “Already they’ve changed you. Already you are in too deep. How long have you hid this from us?” he demanded.
Bellatrix laughed, rolling up her sleeve and displaying the mark on her forearm. “Long enough. You will see,” she continued, eyes shining. “He will be the greatest wizard the world will ever seen. He has already gone farther than anyone, even Grindelwald, has dared to go. He will save us. And you will come crawling to me for forgiveness on that day. And I may not be willing to give it. It is you who has shamed us. I am willing to fight, to do whatever it takes to preserve the purity of our race, while you do nothing but sit back and let it be destroyed!”
She turned then and stormed out of the room. Her father followed her, and when she arrived at the front door and swung it open, she turned and added, “I wonder, Papa, what you will think of Narcissa when she marries a Death Eater, since you apparently think so little of me.”
And with that same strange gleam in her eye, she raised her head haughtily and left, slamming the door behind her.
Word Count: under 500
I had another nightmare last night.
It’s been almost three months since the last one. Maybe that means I’m getting better. I’ve stopped yelling at Mum and Dad at least. Little, unimportant things will set me off, though. Things that remind me of it. Like storms. I used to love thunderstorms; they used to help me study. They were soothing. But now they just remind me of chaos. They remind me of being in the dark and not knowing what’s lurking around the corner. They make me feel like I’m trapped somewhere and I can’t get out.
I can’t go to cemeteries anymore. Or museums. I don’t like the statues. They stare at you with their empty eyes and it reminds me of nothingness. I was one of those statues in my nightmare. I don’t know what I will do when I get back to Hogwarts. Maybe I will be able to put it behind me by then.
I’ve been burying myself in my studies. I signed up for every OWL level course that was offered for next year, and I’m glad I did. Having all that work to do will help me take my mind off it, and hopefully keep me as far away from the Hospital Wing as possible.
I wonder if Harry is going through much of the same thing. He was there at the end, after all, and from what he and Ron told me he almost lost his life. Is this what it’s like to be Harry Potter? If it is, I don’t know how he can stand it. Or maybe this is what it is to be Harry Potter’s best friend. And if that’s true, I don’t know if I will be able to stand it.
I have that feeling of being trapped again. I’ve developed claustrophobia. Mum always wonders what’s wrong with me when we take trips and we have to use the Underground. I think the tunnels bother me more than the closeness of everything. They remind me of pipes.
I don’t like the cold and I don’t like stone. I’m beginning to wonder if I like anything anymore. Madam Pomfrey suggested that I start using this journal because it will help me cope to get my feelings and fears out. I don’t like it anymore. It reminds me of the diary. And a diary is where everything started.
I am going to burn this tomorrow. I think that will help me cope more than anything, because I will be burning my fears. I’ll be burning my feelings. And they will rise up in the smoke and be free, instead of trapped within these pages. And they don’t want to be trapped anymore.
Title: It's Not Easy
Word Count: 300 something
You think it’s easy, don’t you? Being wealthy, being powerful, being a Malfoy.
It’s not easy to stand there regally, looking and acting like nothing more than a porcelain doll your husband purchased. It’s not easy to hate Mudbloods and half-bloods and blood-traitors. Although, after years and years of it being beaten into your head by your parents and their parents and their friends, it does come naturally. It’s not easy having to tell your son he can’t play with other the other children because he’s a Malfoy and “Father thinks those children are filthy”, and then listen to him cry and tell you he hates you. It’s not easy to teach your son right, when his father comes home with tails of deceit and talk of wizard purification. It’s not easy to stand against the wall and be undressed by Death Eater eyes.
It’s not easy to love your husband, who’s once bright, beautiful eyes have gone stone cold and his life consumed by serving another.
It’s not easy to love your son, who’s turning out to be just like his Father.
It’s not easy being a Death Eater’s wife.
But you do it. And you smile, and you look pretty, and buy beautiful clothes to let the world know just how happy, powerful, and wealthy you are because you’re a pureblood. Because you’re a Malfoy. Then you gawk and sneer and hate everyone and everything in the world around you that isn’t pure, until you forget.
You forget what it was like to play with Muggle children before mother took you away. You forget what it was like to wear shorts and get dirty before father threatened to beat neatness into you and your sisters. You forget what it was to love and laugh openly, to smile freely. To live.
It’s not easy being pure. What is easy, however, is forgetting you were ever anything else.
Word Count: Er... I want to say 300 something
He stared at the boy sitting across from him and couldn’t help but feel a sense of responsibility for his current state. He was pale - paler than usual - and his dark hair was matted and unkempt. But his eyes… his eyes were what frightened Albus Dumbledore the most.
They were cold and haunted. Distant. Uncaring. Dumbledore didn’t want to look into those eyes, but he knew he had to. Those eyes were once wide and awestruck as their owner took his first steps into Hogwarts castle. They were once trusting and held so much life.
But no longer.
On the same token, Albus used to look upon him with trust as well. He was one of the more brilliant students to come out of Hogwarts. Unfortunately, it seemed intelligence wasn’t enough to keep people from making The Wrong Turn.
That’s how Albus described it. The Wrong Turn. Turning to the dark side, as it were. To Voldemort.
Taking the Dark Mark.
As Albus looked upon this haunted human being sitting before him, he tried to convince himself that he should have seen it coming. The boy’s eyes may have been trusting; the boy himself may at one time or another may have been happy and eager. But he had also been angry, and bitter, and the subject of much torment from his fellows. He had allowed himself to find powerful and dangerous friends. No doubt these friends were responsible for the boy’s decision and current state.
Albus began to chastise himself. Why had he not done something? Perhaps he should have taken more of a stand against the ones who had bullied him; docked more points, or given out more detentions. He should have tried to get more involved in the boys life. He should have done something as soon as he saw the warning signs that this promising young boy was delving too deeply into dangerous territory.
And, unfortunately, the answer was that he hadn’t noticed. He never saw the warning signs. He never tried to talk to him, find out why he was so angry. And he had only stepped in twice during the bullying occasions, and that was only because of the seriousness of the situations. Albus had been too busy fighting the battle outside, rather than paying attention to the soldiers of Voldemort that were being created on the inside.
And now this boy… no, this young man… was paying for it. And he had come to Albus for help. Fortunately, Albus knew why.
But he mustn’t push the him away. He had to be careful, if he was to bring him back; if he was to save him.
So, this time, Albus cleared his throat, steepled his fingers, and stared into those cold, haunted, dark eyes, and asked:
“What can I do for you, Severus?”