WEEK SIX - RAREPAIRS (with a bit of Aztec Camera)
Below are the six drabbles. Please read carefully and decide which is your favourite and which is your least favourite. As well as bearing in mind SPaG and characterisation, you should also heed the prompt which was to drabble a rarepair and to use the lyrics from Aztec Camera's song 'Somewhere in My Heart' (see above)
Poll will close a bit later than usual as I will be in Bath with Captain Wentworth.
Title: Flying at Night
A/N: Takes place during HBP after Katie Bell is cursed.
“I thought I’d find you here.”
She knew his voice before she saw him in the darkness: Michael. She stopped, trying to catch her breath. She’d been flying hard for an hour and her hair was damp with sweat an inch into her hairline.
“It’s dark. You shouldn’t be out here alone.”
She glanced back at the pitch. He was probably right, but she’d needed to get out of the castle. She’d needed to fly, to work up a sweat. “I’m okay.”
He came closer, lowering his voice. “That’s not very convincing.”
She couldn't seem to get her mind off her injured teammate, though Michael's nearness made it hard to think properly about anything at all. They'd kissed twice: once in Hogsmeade on a proper date (very sweet), then again last week in the corridor. They’d been saying goodnight, and then, suddenly, they were kissing—really kissing. Demelza had never felt more alive, never been more aware of the blood surging through her body like electricity. They’d stumbled behind a tapestry, pressing together, clutching at hair and robes as their kisses became more and more desperate.
“Demelza,” he said, bringing her back to the present.
"I'm sorry. I’m still not sure, Michael.”
“You are,” he said earnestly, closing the space between them entirely. “You are, Demelza. Is this because of your friends?”
“Of course not,” she snapped. “I have a mind of my own.”
He screwed up his face in what looked like irritation. “I can imagine what they’re saying.”
“Well. They’re saying you go from one Quidditch player to the next… that I’ll be nothing more than a name on your list.” She watched his face fall. “They say you’re immature… you know… why Ginny ended it.”
He rested his forearms on her shoulders and hung his head until it brushed her hair. “Yeah, I was immature. I overreacted.” He pushed some hair behind her ear. “But Ginny was looking for a reason. She liked Harry. I knew, but I thought I could change her mind.” He shrugged. “And Cho... Cho was a mistake, a rebound.”
She knew he was being as honest as he could. “Michael.”
“I don’t care what anyone thinks. This is about us.”
Her throat ached. “Did you hear about Katie?” She hated the vulnerability in her voice, the smallness of it.
“Yeah,” he said soberly.
She’d wanted to tell him, to talk to him about her friend, to have him say something back. “I’m scared.”
He kissed her then, and she closed her eyes… one, two, three little kisses. “We can’t stop what’s coming, but we can be together in the middle of it, Demelza. That’s all I want.”
And just like that, she knew.
She dropped her head to his chest and hugged him tightly, feeling the comfort of his arms coming around her. “Me, too.” Her voice was muffled against his chest, but she said it again anyway: “Me, too.”
Title: Don’t Forget
Rating/Warning: 3rd/5th Years — Mild Profanity, Sexual Situations, Slash
A/N: I assure you, this ship wouldn’t have sailed into my brain at any other point than the darkest hours before the Brawl deadline.
* * *
As the door to the Ministry’s overnight lockup slammed closed, the accompanying clatter was ignored as the visitor locked eyes with the current occupant.
“Malfoy,” said the latter.
“Corner,” replied the former, lips drawn into a taut line.
“It’s been a while.”
Silence fell as their respective thoughts drifted to the same place.
They preferred this inn’s dirty windows. One hated the light of dawn and the solitude it brought, and the other couldn’t be seen there. In that lingering pall before daybreak, they could pretend that their tangled limbs were still enveloped by darkness. Under that mantle of night, neither had a name, face, creed, or blood status; their identities were painted by sighs and glorious peals of mutual fulfilment.
Perhaps that was the hated thing about clean windows; they were forced to remember who they were.
“I’ve posted your bail.”
Michael chortled humourlessly. “Piss off. You clearly said you were done with me. What makes you think I
“Because you don’t forget.” The familiar words frothed between them.
Michael watched the morning’s sullied glow set Draco’s white-gold hair alight. Draco typically left long before sun-up, but Michael didn’t like this change. He watched his previous night’s lover stare at the ceiling, his expression cast in stone.
“I can’t do this anymore,” Draco croaked. “I’m getting married in a week, and people will talk.”
“Ha!” Michael cried derisively. Propping himself up on his elbow, he added, “I still don’t see how that changes anything. To hell with everyone else.”
“I don’t think so, Draco. I’m not at your beck and call. Not anymore.”
Draco looked about in distaste. “Hard to do that when you’re in and out of this hole for some damned thing or another. What is it this time? Theft? Breaking and entering?”
“Drunk and disorderly.”
“Case in point.”
Michael flung himself off the bunk. “Why now? Why do you suddenly give a damn about me after all this time?”
Blinking in the face of Michael’s anger, Draco stated, “Astoria’s said she doesn’t give a damn who I sleep with as long as I don’t father any illegitimate children. We have our heir and no longer require each other’s services.”
“You know it’s not that easy,” Draco replied agitatedly. “I have to take every scrap of goodwill I can get. The Dark Lord ruined
everything. I need a good match to ensure my family sees another generation.” Freeing himself from twisted sheets, he said with finality, “You’re better off forgetting me anyway. If my father knew, he’d likely have you killed in your sleep.”
Michael turned away and burrowed under the covers, muttering to himself but not quite quietly enough. “But I don’t forget the people I love.”
“And I can’t forget.”
Michael gaped at Draco as if the words hadn’t hit home. “What?”
“To hell with everyone else.” Brusquely, Draco yanked Michael toward him, smashing his own lips to the ones that had haunted every dawn since their last spent together.
Title: The One Who Understands
A/N The drabble doesn't necessarily disregard Hannah's relationship with Neville, as there is nothing to say she wasn't with someone else first, but obviously, it could change things for them, so to that extent it disregards parts of canon that JKR has told us through interview.
She finds him in the Great Hall. She doesn’t realise until she sees him quite how worried she’s been.
He looks up and catches her eye. His face breaks into a weak smile, but he quickly corrects himself as if unsure whether smiling is allowed – whether they’re supposed to be happy.
“Walk?” he mouths to her and she nods in reply. He mutters something to Terry and then crosses the hall to join her.
She desperately wants to grab hold of his hand as they wander through the grounds but she knows she shouldn’t. They are too close to ruin things like that.
He had been the only one to understand. He accepted why she hadn’t wanted to come back, why she hadn’t, at first, wanted to fight. The others didn’t. Ginny had bluntly told her that if her mother had been killed, she would have done everything possible to take revenge on those responsible.
But all Hannah wanted was to survive. And Michael didn’t think that strange or wrong. He never tried to make her fight. He would sit with her in the Room of Requirement, just talking, and never making her feel guilty or wrong for what she was doing, for holding back.
She remembers seeing him after his first Carrow detention, a deep cut running down his face, his eye bruised black.
“It’s fine,” he had said, “because the first years got away.”
He had inspired her. He made her want to fight. She didn’t want revenge. She wanted to help – to be the one saving a first year from the darkness that had fallen over the school. Most of all, she wanted to be with him.
He had Cho, though, and she couldn’t interfere with that. Even when they had broken up, over the Christmas holidays, he hadn’t seemed interested in having anyone else.
“The one thing my girlfriends have in common,” he had remarked bitterly, “is that they all like Harry Potter more than me.”
I don’t, she had wanted to reply, but instead she had nodded and reassured him that one day he would find someone who liked him for himself.
“What are you going to do?” he asks, snapping her back to the present.
“I suppose I should come back here, to finish the year I missed.”
“I can’t imagine coming back. How can we ever be normal here again?”
Once again, he has vocalised her own thoughts perfectly.
“I just want,” she starts, but cannot finish. She feels tears welling up. “I’m sorry,” she chokes, trying to hold her voice steady.
He takes her hand and squeezes it. “Don’t be. You’re special, Hannah, never forget that. And whatever happens next, we’ll get through it.”
She believes him. Because he is Michael, the person who understands, the person who has always been there. The person she loves.
She can’t ignore it anymore. Still clinging to his hand, she leans in, and she kisses him.
And to her surprise, he kisses her back.
Title: Pieces Of Her
Rating/Warning: 3rd-5th years; Slash, Mild Profanity
Somewhere in her heart she knows there is a piece that will never quite fit, as though something is missing from the valves and sinewy flesh. Or perhaps, after her heart broke, Demelza never managed to put everything back in the right place.
They used to sit behind the Quidditch pitch, holding hands in the grass and complaining about History of Magic. Now, they crouch behind the tapestry of Wendelin the Weird, hands clasped tight, and say nothing at all.
There are only soft vowels whispered on skin and then, when it seems like they’ll never be able to move, a short, sharp gasp as one of them pulls away.
It’s usually Astoria. Demelza tries not to think about it much because then she has to worry about one more thing and there’s not enough time or space to just think.
Not when they’re in the middle of a bloody war.
It’s summer and they are watching Scorpius play on the lawn of Malfoy Manor. Demelza turns to her friend and smiles. Astoria frowns back, a knowing look in her eyes.
“Don’t,” says Astoria.
“I didn’t say anything,” she replies.
When they met on the Hogwarts Express, she never expected to make her first friend so soon, let alone lose her before dinner was served. It’s two years until they speak again and it’s surprising how easy it is to rekindle that familiar warmth and laughter.
“Professor Binns is such a bore.”
“Oh! Isn’t he just?"
She sips on her lemonade, fingers wrapped around the glass as if they’ll never move again. It reminds her of tapestries and sneaking around silent corridors and the Carrows.
“Don’t ruin a perfectly good afternoon, Demelza.”
Astoria was always the one to pull away first, she thinks. She looks across the table and removes her hand, half-reaching, palm facing up towards the summer sun. The memory snaps into place, just below her ribs, and she can’t hold it in any longer.
“You didn’t have to choose Draco.”
The silence says everything.
They like to play a game. It’s all displaced lust and stories spun from lies to pass the time when they could be telling the truth instead.
“I snogged Liam behind the greenhouses.”
They lay their cloaks down upon the grass, green and red lapels, side by side, as if they are exactly the same. Demelza isn’t quite sure who kisses whom first.
After, Astoria walks back to the castle without a word.
Scorpius loses interest with his toy broom as the afternoon light weaves itself into dusk. Astoria takes him inside and returns with something stronger than lemonade.
The tears begin to fall after only two glasses and soon their hands are clasped together across the table. Demelza wonders if Astoria still has her Slytherin cloak.
“I’m sorry,” whispers Astoria.
“Come on,” replies Demelza. She pulls her friend onto the lawn, onto the grass, and it’s as if nothing has changed.
Somewhere in her heart a piece falls into place.
Title: You Better Move On
Rating/Warning: 3rd/5th, implication of violence
The bangs on the door jolt me out of the peaceful place I had just reached in my mind. We were sitting in silence – something I haven’t done in so long. For a while, there was no shouting, no fighting, no argument, just silence and peace.
I’m about to get up when Astoria puts her hand on my shoulder and rises instead of me.
“You stay here. I’ve got this,” she says, and smiles at me. “It’s probably for me anyway.”
As Astoria leaves the room, the banging on the door continues, and I’m sure that she knows as well as me that, although we’re in her flat, the person outside is here for me. The moment Astoria opens the door, I can hear the shouts. Even here, huddled on a sofa under a blanket where I can’t see him, I feel so threatened. Everything seems to be closing in on me. I pull my knees up to my body and hug my legs, but I can’t keep the lump in my throat from rising.
“Where is she?” he yells.
“She doesn’t want to see you, Michael.” I admire the calm that Astoria keeps.
“So she is here, I knew it! Let me in!”
“No!” Astoria replies firmly. “And stop pushing me!”
There’s a short pause before he speaks again. “I have every right to see my fiancée.”
“Well, this is my flat, and I have every right to keep you out of it.”
I worry about Astoria. A large part of me wants to get up and go to the door, to tell him myself that he has to move on, and to save Astoria. But I know myself well enough to realise that I want to see him, too. I can’t, though. It won’t end like that this time.
“Look,” he says after a pause, and he isn’t yelling now. “I just want to see her. I need to apologise, and I need her to come back home with me.”
“You can’t solve this with apologies anymore. And you certainly can’t see her tonight.”
At that moment, I can picture him, looking forlorn, and I really want to hold him, and go back to how things were.
“You should go now,” Astoria says.
When she returns, I pretend to be asleep. There’s nothing I want to discuss, and I don’t want her to look at my tears and pity me tonight. She pulls the blanket over me, and gently pushes a strand of hair out of my face. I know that she’s looking at the bruise, but I do my best to ignore it. Then, suddenly, her hair tickles my face, and I feel her lips on my cheek.
“Good night, Demelza,” she whispers, and goes to her bedroom.
When I hear the door close behind her, I take off my engagement ring. I’ll send it back to Michael in the morning. I should have had the strength to do this months ago, but something has finally changed tonight.
Title: The Only Thing
Rating/Warning: 1st/2nd Yrs - none
A/N: I have no time for drabbles anymore...
In the small hours of the morning, Demelza finished wiping off the last glass in the Leaky Cauldron and put it away in a cupboard. Only one man was left at the bar, his head bowed over the drink left in front of him. In the half-light provided by the remaining candles, she could barely see his eyes, closed in exhaustion or grief, or most likely a combination of both. Her own heart felt unnaturally swollen as she approached him. She was tired, yes, and she was as sad as anyone else. But there was so much more she was feeling – mostly involving a fiery and passionate love for the man sitting in front of her.
Unfortunately, she wasn’t entirely sure the feeling was mutual. She thought there was a certain understanding between them, that maybe they were companions of sorts. But it never seemed to be a good time to bring the subject up. The country was in a state of mourning, which struck her as odd. The war was over. Where was the promised happiness, the eternal celebration? It seemed to be eluding many, like the man that she was now standing next to.
Demelza laid a hand on his arm and Lee opened his eyes, giving her a smile that looked immeasurably sad to her.
“Time to go,” she said. He nodded, but did not move. She sighed and wrapped her arms around him. They stayed like that for a long time, him sitting, her standing. His hand moved into her hair.
“I love you,” he said. Demelza drew back.
“You do?” she asked him, her eyes wide.
“Sure I do,” he said, a bemused expression on his face. “I mean…” He trailed off. “You knew that, right?” he asked, moving his arms around her.
“I don’t know,” Demelza said.
“Well, I do,” he said. “You’re the only thing keeping me going, Demelza. The only thing. Do you think I would have the will to get up and go to work in the morning without you? That I would be able to deal with all of… this?” Lee waved his hand in the air vaguely, but somehow Demelza understood.
“Oh,” she said, a smile creeping onto her face.
“Yeah,” he said, shrugging.
“I love you, too,” Demelza said.