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Thread: July Drabble Challenge: What a Pair! — RESULTS!

  1. #1
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    July Drabble Challenge: What a Pair! — RESULTS!

    That's right, it's back! You all seemed to enjoy it, so why not make it an annual thing?

    As I have come to learn, many of us enjoy a good ship. While this activity is not necessarily about rarepairs, it is centring around pairings that are new to you in particular. That means that it could be anything or anyone! Très exciting, no? My challenge to you is this:

    Write a drabble with a pairing that you have never written before. It could be a canon couple or a non-canon couple. The only restrictions are that they must be ships you've never written , and both characters involved in the ship must be canon characters. You are permitted to use background OCs, but the individuals who are in the couple must have an existence in canon and be in the time period JKR put them — no Hermione time-turning to go date Godric Gryffindor (LOL). It sounds constrictive, but it's really not.

    I'm sure I don't have to tell you this, but as per MNFF submission rules, there is to be NO incest or bestiality. So, sorry to all you Hedwig/Voldemort or Bill/Ginny shippers, but te ne permites pas! Also, in accordance to the rules, you must affix proper rating and warning tags to your drabble. Nothing above 6th-7th Years will be permitted, and content of a strong sexual, violent, or profane nature is prohibited, as this is a family forum and viewable by all. If there are naughty words, please edit them like f*** or b****, or the forum censor will **** them entirely and no one will know what you mean.

    This month, we're going to do things a bit differently. Instead of posting the drabbles yourself, you will be sending them to me via PM with the entry form below. I will be posting them anonymously, and next month, we will VOTE on the winners! Yes, we're going to actually have drabbles JUDGED! The winner will then be awarded with not only the prestige of winning, but they will also carry away ten house points for their excellence. If there are five or more entrants, a second place will be awarded with a five point prize. You may submit up to three drabbles if you like, but bear in mind that all the drabbles will be voted on individually and your entries will be competing against themselves. If there are less than five entries, I may extend the deadline.

    Due to the nature of the activity, I'm going to extend the word limit to 1000, with a minimum of 300. No one dislikes butchering content for the sake of word count more than me. My best advice is to plan for less in case you do get more. It's less painful than to chop something you love to bits.

    This is a nice opportunity for those of you who missed 007 to do some SPEWly writing. With that, get drabbling!

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    b]Author's Note: [/b]Please keep this vague as to not give yourself away. This space is for supplemental facts to aid the reader in understanding your story. No more than 50 words. 

    As this is an anonymous activity, it is not eligible toward your July/August monthly requirements. However, it is a lot of fun and you should consider doing it anyway to make your SPEW Queen happy. <3 It does carry the same time limit, though, in that all entries must be sent to me by no later than the end of the day on 15th August to be considered in the voting. All members of SPEW, including probationary members (newbies) and those on hiatus or RAC-only members, are eligible to participate.
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  2. #2
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    So...I have exactly ONE entry for this (which I am about to post in the next post). You can do better than that. Really, you can.


    Anyway, we'll do the same thing we did last year...extend the deadline!

    I will give you all until AUGUST 23rd to submit for this challenge before we take it to a vote. I would really like to get five entries for this to make it interesting. To make it even MORE interesting, if you participate in this activity, it can't count for your August requirements, but I WILL allow you to use it as your monthly activity for the month of September. That's right! You can get some stuff done ahead of time, which is a great sale for those of you heading back to school soon, so I completely recommend taking me up on this rare spurt of generosity.
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  3. #3
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    Title: Sirius’ night to cook
    Pairing: James/Lily
    Rating: 1st–2nd Years
    Warnings: Implied kissing and excessive fluff?
    Word Count: 433
    Author's Note: Both Sirius and Lily are living with James at the moment, due to lack of home, job and/or money.


    James was all nerves today, and Lily had no idea why. I mean, last time Sirius had cooked dinner he’d almost set the kitchen alight, and then served up the cinders of lamb and peas, but there was no real need to worry. If it happened again, they’d just go next door and get some of Bathilda’s leftovers. But Lily had been teaching Sirius how to cook for weeks now, so hopefully it wouldn’t be another catastrophe.

    * * *

    Sirius was in the kitchen, poring over an old cookbook, occasionally stirring the pot of thick red gloop beside him. Behind him some contraption was mincing the pork, and to his right he had charmed a knife to dice the tomato. He mopped his brow with a nearby towel, then turned to grab the mince. He so wanted to get this right for James. Spaghetti Bolognaise was proving far more difficult than he had thought it would be.

    * * *

    James was pacing in his room. He stopped every once in a while to ruffle up his hair in the mirror, only to smooth it down again in his pacing. ‘Do I look too smart? Am I not smart enough?’ he couldn’t decide, and he couldn’t ask Padfoot or more importantly, Lily. He couldn’t ask Lily, because she’d ask why he suddenly felt so self-conscious and he’d have to tell her his plan. And that would ruin it. Padfoot was busy cooking. Padfoot, cooking. ‘Merlin,’ thought James, ‘Why did I leave Padfoot to do the cooking?’

    * * *

    Padfoot had set the table very nicely for James’ romantic dinner, complete with rose and candle in the center, along with an already open bottle of some very nice claret. Two lovingly garnished plates of Spaghetti Bolognaise sat on lace placemats, gently steaming, with cheese melting on the top. James stood by the table, ready to offer Lily her seat. The smell of slightly burnt SpagBol wafted in from the kitchen where Padfoot was already tucking in to his portion.

    * * *

    Lily walked into the dining room, although when she first walked in, she thought that she had walked into another house. James offered her her seat and she sat down, a little puzzled and a little amused. She was shocked when James got down on one knee as she finished and held out a ring. Of course she would marry him!

    * * *

    Padfoot watched the happy couple through the kitchen doorway and grinned. He wasn’t sure whether it was right or not to look in on their tender moment, but it was good to see some love for once in this warring world.
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  4. #4
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    Title: In Bloom
    Pairing: Albus/Rose
    Rating: 3rd/5th Years
    Warnings: Dubious Consent, Sexual Situations
    Word Count: 1000

    * * *


    One by one, rose petals drift from the treehouse far above the grass of the Potters’ back garden. Albus is far too old to be hiding in treehouses, but sometimes, he needs the solitude it offers. He risks his mother’s ire for mauling the blooms she manages to keep growing without magic, but he doesn’t care. He likes roses. They remind him of her.






    She hates the bloody things. Every year, without fail, someone gives her something plastered with the scent, the colour, or the images of roses! They always think it’s clever because of her name, but she is a person, not a plant. But most of all, they remind Rose of him.

    He loves them. “They’re nice,” he said to her once. “I’d much rather be associated with something beautiful and sweet than a dead man who used people like puppets as a means to an end.”

    It figures that he ignores the other side of roses. Thorns fit to draw blood are what remain after the flowers die off, far overshadowing the few months when they splay their gaudy plumage. They’re nice sometimes; for the most part, they are sharp and vindictive.

    No, Rose thinks. Roses are ugly.






    As the remainder of the ravaged rose crumbles in his hand, Albus flicks his wand and sends another one skidding into his palm from the bush below. This one, though, he leaves undamaged. His finger traces the fragile peals of colour, thinking about lips he would be hard-pressed to forget. They weren’t his for the taking then and never will be, but he dreams of them nonetheless, and that one perfect, shining moment when he possessed them. To hell with the fallout afterward.

    His kiss surprised her, and the gall he mustered to kiss her surprised him equally. They are cousins, practically as close as siblings; lifelines, both in matters of academics, especially the heaving ball of stress that had been NEWT studies, and in emotional turmoil; and best friends (or at least they had been). He should’ve left it at that.

    Rose is an anchor and a confidante, not an object of lust, yet Albus finds himself frequently thinking of her in the dead of night, body taut with longing. It isn’t decent. Not because she’s his cousin, per se, but because she trusted him with her most intimate secret and he had taken advantage of that.






    It is hard for Rose to think about, but it always lingers in the back of her mind. Billy Morrissey is a decent enough guy and was her first boyfriend. The girls at Hogwarts always talked about Billy, who was attractive and amusing. It surprised Rose, as well as a fair few other people, when Billy asked her to the last Hogsmeade weekend of the year. Come to think of it, she can’t recall agreeing, though her rapid blinking and consequent giggling to her roommates later left it as an implied ‘yes’. But the most gorgeous boy in seventh year wanted her. Albus wasn’t as impressed, but she hadn’t expected he would be.

    Sneaking off during a Hogsmeade outing is strictly forbidden, so, of course, nearly everyone does it. There is scant privacy to be had at the castle, so the nooks and crannies of the small village provide shelter to snoggers and miscreants alike. When Billy mentioned that he knew a quiet spot out past the stile at the edge of town, a flutter of anxiety tinged in anticipation blossomed in her belly. At the time, she didn’t think about what his invitation actually meant. When hands went where she hadn’t expected them to go, she reflexively recoiled, but Billy’s soothing words and tactful lips quieted her concerns, sweeping her away in a tide of hormones and unfamiliar sensations.

    It wasn’t until later that night, after she hid beneath her bedcovers, that the gravity of what she allowed hit her. During that ear-melting ‘talk’ every teenager has with a parent, Rose’s mother had told her that it’s meant to be something special to share with someone you love. She didn’t ‘love’ Billy; she barely knew him outside of the fact that he was a Hufflepuff in her year. Yet in a matter of only hours, that precious gift she was supposed to save for somebody important to her was discarded like a three-day-old newspaper.

    She was angry then and still is now. Not at Billy, because she knows he would’ve stopped eventually if she’d held her ground, but at herself. And there was only one person she could bear to tell at the time, and that had been a mistake.






    It burns to think about the day she told him. Tears in her eyes, Rose wretched out her humiliation through staggered breath, but all he could think about at the time was how much he hated Billy Morrissey for taking something Albus would’ve happily died to possess.

    When he overheard Morrissey leaving Charms class, though, joking about ‘pulling that red-haired Gryffindor girl’, Albus lost it. Though not terribly gifted at hexes or curses, good old-fashioned rage made up for that as Albus launched himself at the other boy, beating him into the flagstones and the hospital wing.

    When Rose found out, she screeched at him, terrified that everyone would know. Seeing her distress immobilised his better sense and made him shout back at her that she should’ve thought about that before shagging a git like Morrissey.

    Then he kissed her.






    And she slapped him for it. The thought of it makes her feel ashamed. Countless letters, begging for forgiveness, lie stuffed in a box under her bed, save for the single, magically preserved rose in front of her. He loves her, she knows, but she doesn’t love him like that. Maybe once he realises, they can go back to normal. Whatever that may be.

    With a stifled sob, she brings the rose to her lips and hopes.






    Albus crushes the flower in his hand and throws it into the dirt.
    Last edited by ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor; 08-21-2012 at 08:20 AM.
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  5. #5
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    Title: Expectations and Dirty Dishes
    Pairing: James II/Molly II
    Rating: 3rd-5th years
    Warnings: Mild Profanity, mention of eating disorders and substance abuse
    Word Count: 999
    Author's Note: I don’t know where I got this pairing.

    Molly was sick of it. She didn’t want to work for the Ministry, she didn’t want to deal with her screwed up family, and she didn’t want to sit at that stupid desk for one more day. Everyone thought she was on a path to a career just like her father, that she would do great things. They all thought it was what she wanted.

    How badly Molly wanted to scream, to tear at her stupid red hair and yell at them all that they were wrong. She hated her job, and she hated helping James constantly pick up the pieces of their family; Molly wanted to go places, do things. She wanted to take pictures of it all.

    So one day, Molly just left. And never looked back.





    James was jealous. He wished he had the guts to just pack up and leave like his cousin. But there was too much that he needed to do, that was expected of him. Someone needed to pull Lily off her crazy diets, someone needed to keep Albus out of Azkaban, and someone needed to make sure his family’s scandals weren’t in the tabloids.

    It was no secret that the Potters and Weasleys were falling from grace. Everyone was always too loud and pulling crazy stunts, trying desperately to live up to their namesakes or prove that they were different. Except for James. James wasn’t like the first James or Sirius Black; he wasn’t meant to cause messes. No, James was meant to clean everyone else’s up.

    Because they wouldn’t on their own.





    When she came back, Molly was different. No longer did she wear the plain blouses and skirts she had her entire life; now she wore her too-tight neon trousers and dark make-up. The purple hair sealed the deal.

    She had expected the entire family to be at the Burrow; it was a Saturday. Molly had planned her grand entrance, and she couldn’t wait to see the shocked faces of everyone. Quiet, studious Molly, looking so scandalous. They wouldn’t know what had hit them.

    Instead, though, Molly only found James doing the dishes.





    “Molly?” James asked, surprised. Long gone was the girl who couldn’t even tell her father she failed an essay. Despite everything, though, his heart still skipped a beat.

    “Hello, James,” she greeted awkwardly, smiling. James just laughed, and pulled her into a hug. When he released her, he tossed her a rag. “Come on. We’ll catch up while you help me with this mess.”

    And he truly tried to listen. Molly told tales of Paris, Rome, and who knew where else. But James couldn’t ignore how her eyes lit up when she talked, or how his heart was doing a frenzied dance.

    “You look like s***, by the way,” Molly said when she was done, as James rubbed his eyes, effectively making his glasses fall off. Ignoring her laughter, James went to pick them up. He had been at the office for two days to come back to a huge mess and empty firewhiskey bottles.

    “Why did you leave?” James asked, surprising Molly. The smile slid off her face.

    “I, I just couldn’t take it anymore.” Her voice was almost a whisper. “I was sick of it.” James just nodded. He had been angry at his cousin for leaving him with the mess alone, but he knew why Molly had left. And it wasn’t just that he was angry about. “I’m sorry, James.”

    “It’s all right,” James replied, forcing a smile. His eyes flitted to the floor. “I just wish I had the guts to do the same.”





    Molly had let James down. She knew that. He wouldn’t speak to her; she had abandoned him.

    This didn’t explain why his cold shoulder hurt so much, though. There was a pain in Molly’s gut like nothing she ever felt before. It wasn’t just guilt … there was something more. It couldn’t be that, could it?

    But the first thing that Molly had noticed when she had got back was how great James looked. Auror training suited him well; she didn’t remember him being that muscular. Molly couldn’t fancy her cousin, could she? James and her had always been close, but not like that. No.





    James knew he was hurting Molly. He could see it in her eyes as she brushed past him at the family gatherings, or when he wouldn’t say a word as they did the dishes. She didn’t understand why he needed to stay away. He wasn’t just hurt because Molly had left him in a mess, he was angry because she had left him.

    For a while before Molly left, he had been slowly noticing how attractive his cousin was. She had the beautiful Weasley hair, and the pale skin to match. But she was also different. Molly had been his best friend.

    So while she had been gone, James had tried to convince himself that it was nothing. He couldn’t fancy his cousin. But when she had come back, James knew it hadn’t worked. Purple hair and all, James loved Molly Weasley.

    So he avoided her.





    “James Potter, you are done ignoring me,” Molly said one day, throwing down the dishrag. “I don’t know why you’re pissed off, but I am sick of this cold shoulder.” Searching her cousin’s eyes for anger, Molly waited for him to respond. He didn’t.

    “I know you’re probably mad that I left, but I came back two months ago! You can’t sulk for this long!” she continued, but James still didn’t say anything. “SAY SOMETHING! YELL AT ME, JUST DO SOMETHING! I CAN’T DO THIS ALONE!”

    Breathing heavily, Molly leaned against the sink. She felt the familiar urge to kiss him, but she ignored it. They were cousins, and he didn’t feel the same way. But she needed him, even if they were just friends.

    You could imagine her surprise when his lips suddenly crashed onto hers.
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  6. #6
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    Title: The Flash of Rubies
    Pairing: Sirius/Marlene
    Rating: 6th-7th
    Warnings: sexual situations, mild profanity, some violence
    Word Count: 998
    Author's Note: This was very brutally cut and will hopefully be expanded someday Thanks to Carole/Equinox Chick for the support and canon help.

    “You’re going to be tailing Lucius Malfoy,” Moody tells Marlene and Sirius. “For the next two days. Objections?”

    Marlene glances at Sirius, who then says, “No objections. Aye aye, captain.” He even adds a mock salute which makes her snigger.

    However, Moody isn’t quite as amused. “Oi! No p***ing around on this one, d’you hear?” he barks. “We finally have a tail on Malfoy after ages, so we can’t afford to miss anything.”

    “We won’t,” Marlene assures him. “Sirius will behave.”

    “I always do,” Sirius says, pretending to look offended.

    “In all seriousness, though,” Moody interjects, glaring at Sirius, “is John all right with it?”

    “Don’t worry about him,” she mutters. “He’ll be fine with it. Just as long as he’s not in the middle of it.”

    Frowning, Moody begins to say, “Well, if you’re sure...”

    But she interrupts him, saying firmly, “I’m sure. So I’ll meet you, Sirius, at yours tomorrow?”

    : :

    “You’re late,” Sirius tells her.

    “Sorry,” she replies, straightening her cloak and avoiding his gaze, and then she smiles gratefully at his understanding murmur of assent. Nothing more needs to be said between them. “You ready?”

    “Yep.” He raises his wand, hesitates, looking at her carefully, and then, when she nods expectantly, she braces herself for the unpleasant feeling of something cold trickling down her body.

    “Your turn,” Marlene says, and she, in return, does the same. They’re almost the same height; she is perhaps an inch taller than him, though it doesn’t really matter. He’s never said anything, and they’re never out in public — not like that, anyway.

    As she takes a step back, aware of how flush her body is against his (when did he move so close to her?), she closes her eyes and tries not to breathe in his warm, familiar smell of coffee and cigarettes as they Apparate — separately, of course — to their intended destination.

    : :

    Their mission goes mostly without any problems. They argue, yes, but who doesn’t when they’ve been lumbered with one person for two days straight? However, they also haven’t found out anything new. Lucius Malfoy is careful — too careful.

    After their debrief, they make their way outside Order Headquarters, Sirius yawning loudly. He then stops, reaching the point where he can Apparate, and he outstretches his hand, about to say goodbye.

    “Wait,” she says, grabbing his wrist.

    She can feel his pulse quicken beneath her fingers as he says, “Something wrong?”

    Tilting her head to one side, she asks, “Can I, er, go to yours? He’s working late tonight.”

    “I thought we weren’t going to—” Sirius begins to say, but without thinking, she reaches out and touches his face, admiring how sharp the cut of his cheekbone is, how tired he looks — two days’ worth of stubble dusts his jaw — and yet how alert and hard his steel-grey eyes are nevertheless.

    “Please?”

    And then Marlene feels his hand cover hers; under her fingers, his lips upturn into a small smile. “Come on, then.”

    When they Apparate into his flat, he immediately sets about trying to tidy the mess. She just laughs and tells him she’s going to use his shower. He nods distractedly, and when she steps under the wonderfully warm burst of water and reaches for the shampoo, she smiles to herself, somewhat amused at the lengths he always goes to in order to please her — especially considering what a slob he is. It’s not like she’s that special, really, even if he does make her feel that way.

    It doesn’t take long for her smile to dissolve and for her lips to form a thin line again. She becomes lost in soapy memory, remembering what she found yesterday. That flash of rubies, that glint of gold, the red velvet of the tiny cushion it was resting in...

    “You finished?” Sirius’s carefully casual voice brings her back to reality with a jolt.

    She shivers at the memory of him kissing his painstaking way up her body, caressing every inch of skin with his lips and his fingertips. She remembers feeling clothed, clad in pleasure, covered in him.

    “Are you all right, Marlene?” he asks.

    “Fine,” she replies. “Just fine. Give me my towel, will you?”

    : :

    She is lying on his bed when he emerges from the shower, her eyes shut. She can’t sleep — she is trying, desperately, to fight the guilt that is stabbing her so damn hard, right in the gut, and though she can’t see him, she hears his soft footsteps as he enters the room. Her eyelids flicker instinctively, and he notices, for he murmurs a greeting before lying beside her.

    “Hey,” she replies, listening to the groan of the mattress as it sinks a little under Sirius’s weight.

    Lifting a hand to her neck, he leans over and kisses her lips. She can smell water and soap, a welcome change from the sweat that had accumulated in both of them over the last two days. Pushing him away gently, she wraps her leg around his waist, her hands on either side of his face, examining him closely. He hasn’t shaved, but the hairs on his jaw are soft, and when he opens his eyes, she can see that they are red.

    “I’ve missed you,” he says.

    Marlene laughs. “You’ve been stuck with me for two days. And you’ve insulted me in at least ten different ways—”

    “You’ve insulted me in ten different languages,” Sirius replies with a teasing smile. “I never thought the day would come when I would be called a b*stard in Russian.”

    “That was actually Ukrainian.”

    “I’ve missed you,” he repeats.

    “How much?” He doesn’t answer, instead kissing her rather inelegantly on her neck. His towel suddenly comes undone, and she lifts his face up to hers. “Oh. That much?”

    “Yeah, that much.”

    She kisses him to try and stop him saying any more, tasting soap and water and wishing that this was not their last time.
    Last edited by ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor; 08-25-2012 at 09:42 AM.
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  7. #7
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    Title: Someone Like You
    Pairing: Natalie MacDonald/Jimmy Peakes
    Rating: 6th/7th Years
    Warnings: Sexual Situations, Mild Kink, Prostitution (nothing too severe or descriptive)
    Word Count: 989


    He always makes the strangest sounds every time the strands of my whip splay across his backside, which I assume are a mark of pleasure. After all, it is what he wants, and it’s definitely something the little woman will never give him. Not like I do. Never like what I can do.

    I’m no stranger to infidelity. The very nature of my profession tends to thrive on it, built to give a sense of satisfaction to the deviants that walk amongst us, cloaked in normalcy. There is nothing particularly unusual about men who like to be smacked around by their sex partners; in fact, I would go so far as to say that it’s even sort of normal. I don’t mind it a bit as long as it’s not enough to break limbs, but a few stray bruises aren’t going to squelch my enjoyment or, worse, keep me from doing my job.

    My current client, on the whole, though, is a quiet one, and he tips well. I don’t suspect he’s particularly wealthy, as his robes aren't traditional or well-made, suggesting that he is amongst the ever-growing half-blood society. I really don’t look at his face because he doesn’t want me to. I don’t ask questions — again, part of the job. His voice isn’t powerful or distinct, especially whilst gasping and grunting under my ministrations.

    Usually, after I’ve finished with the lashing, the latter half of the transaction is completed quickly. Sometimes, I wonder if the rest of it is even necessary other than making sure that they get their money’s worth, but I don’t get many complains in that department. After all, treating johns well means repeat business and usually kinder treatment. As I said, I don’t mind some of the rough stuff, but I’d rather be on the pleasurable side of it.

    It takes me a while to figure out that my customer is no longer moving or making a sound. For a moment, I worry that I’ve injured him, but I do my best not to do that, and I simply don’t do that strangling tosh. Not wanting to ruin the moment for him, I say coyly, “Do you need a breather, love?”

    I am surprised when he brings up his hand to stroke my cheek. “Oh, Natalie . . .”

    His words paralyse me. How does he know my real name? For all he knows, my name is Della Dupree, which bears no resemblance whatsoever to the name I was born with: Natalie MacDonald. Statistically speaking, I suppose it is inevitable that I would end up servicing someone who might know me as something other than a lady of the night, but it disturbs me just how familiar this person seems to be with who I am during the daylight.

    When the light switches on, I feel like I am going to be sick. “You shouldn’t be here. You have a wife and kids, Jimmy.” The childish nickname ‘Jimmy’ feels asinine on my lips. My old classmate was far too stocky and stout to be a ‘Jimmy’. I forget all of my earlier assertions that I do a service for married couples with mismatched preferences. It’s hard to do when you actually know who they are.

    As if reading my thoughts, he says, “It’s just ‘Jim’ now. And the old boiler and me are sort of on the way out at the moment.” His voice is bitter, but not tinged with regret I would expect from someone seemingly on the doorstep of divorce.

    Hearing him refer to Eleanor as an ‘old boiler’ makes me want to laugh, but I catch myself. Even though I haven’t seen her since we were both twenty, which was well over ten years ago, I recall her being fresh-faced and sweet.

    “People change, Natalie,” he says softly, though I know he isn’t talking about his wife anymore. I am suddenly acutely aware of my nudity, and I slide to the far side of the bed, not looking at him as I wrap myself in a sheet. “Yeah, they do,” I agree once my eyes are gratefully looking somewhere else besides my best friend turned my very first boyfriend.

    “I tried to write to you,” he presses. “I asked around to find out where you lived or where you worked, but it was like you dropped off the face of the planet! To think, all this time, you’ve been skulking around Knockturn Alley like a common hooker.”

    It is like a slap in the face. “I am a common hooker,” I say icily. “And, as it turns out, it isn’t any business of yours unless you pay me for my time.” From my bag in the corner of the room, I pull out the small bag of Galleons given in payment before we started and fling it at his chest. “A refund for you, sir. I apologize that I was not able to meet your expectations tonight.”

    My hands shake as I begin to dress, and I feel his eyes boring into my back as I awkwardly pull on my short, black dress. I do my best to ignore the stray tears waddling down my cheeks until I can’t see the floor in front of me. The back of my hand is smeared in kohl, and I know I must look a fright. Sad women have smeared make-up. I was never a sad woman, but I am right now.

    Arms wrap around my waist, and I am grateful that they keep me from sliding to the floor in a pathetic mess. Jim whispers a medley of apologies and reassurances in my ear as I curl feebly into his chest. “I wanted to look for you that entire year,” he says, “but I knew it would be too dangerous. And when you came back to Hogwarts, you were so different. I didn’t know what to say. I’m sorry, Natalie. I’m so sorry.”

    And so am I.
    Last edited by ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor; 08-25-2012 at 10:01 AM.
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  8. #8
    'Til the end of the line Ravenclaw
    Unspeakable
    Kill the Spare
    ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor's Avatar
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    And it is time to vote, my pretties. This vote is open to ALL MNFF MEMBERS, so spread the word and shower some love on this activity to everyone high and low!

    Here is the link, now read and vote!


    Voting ends at the end of the day (midnight) on Sunday, September 2nd (US Pacific Time)/Monday September 3rd at 8:00 am (British Summer Time). Go, fight, vote!
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  9. #9
    'Til the end of the line Ravenclaw
    Unspeakable
    Kill the Spare
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    And I have results!


    Contrary to my typical late fashion, there is a purpose to the lateness of the reveals. There was, oddly enough, a tie for second place (which will be awarded due to enough entries). I consulted a few trusted souls to read the two tied fics, and they have given me unanimous, conclusive results. With no further waffle, I bring you...


    Second place:


    A Flash of Rubies (Sirius/Marlene)


    ...and the top vote-getter and First place go to:

    Someone Like You (Natalie/Jimmy)




    And now for the reveals!


    Sirius' Night to Cook: BP/BrokenPromise
    In Bloom: Jess/SPEW Monarch
    Expectations and Dirty Dishes: Ellie/iMusic17
    A Flash of Rubies: Soraya/babewithbrains
    Someone Like You: Jess/Reine de SPEW


    Now, as I refuse to give points to myself for winning, as it's ridiculous, I am still going to award second place and five points to Soraya for her excellent drabble.

    Thank you all for participating and voting, and you are now free to flaunt your wonderful work wherever you like!
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