TTB DECEMBER MONTHLY 2012: Week 1

[majestic_ginny]

Name: majestic_ginny/Nadia
House: Hufflepuff
Title: Amendment
Ratings/Warnings: 1st-2nd year, none
Word Count: 565 on MS Word
Link to Post Containing Poem (include the title if it's a prophecy): Hesitate, by Carole/Equinox Chick
A/N: I realize I've never mentioned it in the drabble, but it's Draco and Astoria.

“Go to Hogsmeade with me.”

You stand in front of me, a lazy smirk playing on your lips, a confident look in your eyes. You’re question sounds more like an order to me. I’m not surprised; you’ve always got what you wanted, when you wanted.

My brows furrow. I’ve heard many rumours about you – some say you’ve joined them. I can see where they get that from; there’s that strange gleam in your eyes that frightens me. There’s darkness behind your cold, grey eyes, a darkness that you aren’t aware of yet. You don’t know what you’re in for, what this darkness would do to you. You’re still too young, brainwashed by a vision that leads to nothing but downfall. I know what it would do to you in the end, what he would make you do. I know. I’ve lost my father to him, after all.

Your smirk gradually fades and a tiny frown appears on your face. You notice my hesitation and take a step forwards, your eyes boring into mine.

“I’m going with someone else,” I lie. “I’m sorry.”

Without a backwards glance, I walk away.
___________________________________

Next year, you change. You turn pale and sickly, and your eyes bear a haunted look that tells me of the millions of deaths you die every day. I see the ghost of the scream on your face - a silent scream you let out as you fight the inner demons inside you. I see the hollow look on your face as you see your perfect world crumbling down around you. I can see it killing you, and it nearly breaks my heart to see in this way.

They say he’s living at your house. I can see that you’ve witnessed many things, things that are enough to make your skin crawl, things that make you want to take back everything wrong that you’ve done.

I can see the regret in your frightened eyes.

You look at me. I know you’re terrified. I want to tell you that it’ll all be okay, that it’ll be over soon.

But I can’t. You’re still one of them.

I tear my eyes away from you and run away.
___________________________________

Two years later, I see you again. Once more, you change. I see a bitter past following you around as you strive to make amends, to make a difference for the bereaved, for those who lost everything. You help others regain what they have lost for your previous actions. You seek to obliterate your past, to liberate yourself from what you once were. Yet that mark remains, for though the wounds heal, the scars remain, forever serving a reminder of your tortured past.

No matter what you do, you can’t get rid of that mark on your forearm.

And yet you try so hard to prove that you’re not one of them.

This time when you catch my eye, I smile. You deserve a chance to live a better life, to forget your past and start anew. You’ve suffered more than you ever should have. You walk over to me, an apple in hand, and I notice a change in your posture – slow and confident, but not as arrogant as before.

“Can I buy you a cup of coffee?”

This time it’s a question. This time, you prove yourself.

This time, I don’t hesitate.

Smiling, I nod my head.

[ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor]

Name: ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor
House: Ravenclaw
Title: The Reckoning
Ratings/Warnings: 3rd/5th Years: Snark, Mild Profanity, Unf
Word Count: 796
Link to Post Containing Poem: I Am the Dragon by Peppermint Toads
A/N: I went for a bit of opposites in this parallel. Most of what I drew from the poem applies to Harry, not Draco (the narrator). However, you could use the line 'Me, and my snapping mouth' for Draco, as well. There are also elements of 'You shrink away from me' and a dash of 'How ironic are we?' in there if you squint. I read this poem, and it had to be Drarry. Thank you to Julie for the inspiration.

* * *

Draco prodded the food on his plate with a scowl, his fork making no motion toward his mouth. The bland pub fare was even less appetising than usual when coupled with disappointment. He knew he had no right to feel let down; it was ludicrous to expect his invitation to be taken seriously. Draco wasn’t even sure he took it all too seriously.

It had been an hour. Potter wasn’t coming.

Throwing a Galleon on the table, Draco headed for the exit. The man behind the bar called to him cheerily to thank him for his patronage; Draco nodded curtly, not bothering to break stride. Frigid air ignited his nerves as he stepped out into the night, his breath hanging heavily in the air. The whistle of the winter wind burnt its way through his clothes, nearly masking the sound of someone calling out to him from the shadows. Draco missed it once, but the second time, he would’ve known that voice anywhere. Stopping mid-step, Draco muttered, “Potter.”

Potter swooped from his hiding spot to stand next to Draco. “Sorry. I couldn’t go in there. You said you wanted to talk, but we wouldn’t have been able to say a whole lot in there without it falling on the wrong ears, if you know what I mean.”

Draco did know what he meant and was annoyed with himself for not thinking of it. “You could’ve owled me or something so I didn’t sit in there like a dolt.”

“Better than standing out here in this mess like a dolt.” Shrugging, Potter said, “Honestly, I thought you’d leave a lot sooner, or maybe I might’ve done.”

Struggling to find fault in Potter’s logic, Draco let it be and broached the only other subject weighing on his mind. “So where to, then?”

“Well, um —” Potter stuttered, “— we could go back to mine. It’s warded from intruders until hell wouldn’t have it, and Ron’s not home for the next week. Whatever you wanted to say to me, you can just say it.”

His will to argue being rapidly defeated by the cold, Draco nodded and allowed Potter to Apparate them to a dim little alley that was blissfully still and quiet. “Nice house you’ve got here, Potter. I love the bins and the rats. Stylish.”

“We have to walk from here,” Potter grumbled. Draco followed him with a smirk. Soon, they were in front of a non-descript door in an even more non-descript neighbourhood and on their way inside. Potter’s flat was sparse, cluttered, and a bit smelly — about what Draco had expected.

Gesturing toward a manky old sofa, Potter said, “Let’s get this over with. What was so pressing that you had to say it in person and not in an owl?”

Draco sat, pointedly looking at the wall and not at Potter. He’d had a speech all made up in his head, full of bilious insults and jibes, but the earnest face next to him stole his ability to say any of them. “I — I owe you,” Draco lied, “and I don’t like it.”

“Are you serious?” Potter snapped and he flung himself to his feet. “You dragged me across the country into that demon blizzard to tell me you owe me? I don’t want your favours, Malfoy, so if that’s all you have to say, then do us both a favour and get the hell out!”

Despite the true purpose of his visit being little more than to return some belongings of Potter’s that recently turned up at Malfoy Manor, Draco bristled at Potter’s tone. “What did you expect, a love poem? Gods, you’re a moron.” Draco pulled the bag of Potter’s possessions from his cloak and flung them on the floor. “There.” Beyond done, he marched toward the door.

He did not expect a hand to close around his wrist to stop his departure.

Before he could protest, Draco felt himself be spun around and pressed against the door. Lips sizzled against his skin and Potter’s clumsy mouth searched for territory to call its own. Draco’s protest died in his throat as a gasp of pleasure escaped.

No.

This was Potter.

Draco’s hands pressed hard against Potter’s chest and thrust him backwards. “What the bloody hell is wrong with you? I came to give your things back, not be molested by you!”

Spinning on his heel, Draco stormed out and back to the alley. Exhausted from his near-running pace, he leant against the clammy bricks and fought for his breath. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and shouted into the empty street. Anything was better than the taste of Potter on his lips.

Potter had kissed him. He had liked it.

One thing was certain, however: the games had only just begun.

[Equinox Chick]

Keeping this open for a further six hours.


Will be close at 5PM.


~Carole~

[babewithbrains]

Name: Sorayers
House: La Maison d’Ebille
Title: Being Human
Ratings/Warnings: 6th-7th years; naked!Remus, implied violence
Word Count: 799
Link to Post Containing Poem (include the title if it's a prophecy): ici Specifically, I used these lines since it’s a pretty abstract poem (I hope that’s okay):
You stare,
yet not by a flicker
do you betray
the words unsaid
A/N: I blame Jamie and her squeeing over Being Human and George. Also, apologies for the quality (or lack thereof) of this drabble. I kind of wrote it in an hour. OH, and lastly, this is a kind of companion drabble to the one I wrote for SPEW this month, which you can find here: CLICK

The metallic taste of blood in Remus’s mouth finally roused him from sleep; it was only after several moments of blurred disorientation that he realised he was lying on his front, completely naked. He immediately sensed that he was not alone, and were he not so tired, he would have been embarrassed. As it was, every muscle in his body ached, and the effort with which he debated whether or not to get up made his brain hurt.

Slowly, the events of the previous night flooded back to him: being bound, gagged and dragged to a shack in the middle of nowhere by a group of hooded strangers. Then he was shoved into a cage like the animal he became once a month, Remus thought bitterly. But this was different. There was someone else there, another man, whose name Remus hadn't found out, who Remus would have definitely torn to pieces given the chance.

He remembered his pleas to the man to kill him before he transformed and the man’s insistence that he would do nothing, nothing of the sort. And Remus had yelled at him that he needed to save himself, even if that meant killing Remus with his bare hands, because he was certainly going to die otherwise, and all the while, his hooded captors watched their exchange, jeering delightfully. But then, for some reason, the Death Eaters scattered, Disapparating one after another, and Remus could only vaguely register — in his wolfish mind — the jets of light, the cage door opening and closing, before the wolf within him took over.

Opening his eyes a fraction, Remus’s jaw slackened at the sight of a young woman with bright pink hair, fast asleep, her knees hugged to her chest, her back against the wall. Taking advantage of this, he decided to get to his feet. As expected, the pain that followed was so strong that he groaned out loud; to his horror, the woman started to stir. He made to turn around, at least to retain what little dignity he had left, but instead, he stumbled and fell on his back.

“Is everything okay?” the woman asked with a yawn, standing up and unlocking the cage door. She tactfully kept her eyes shut, and to his relief, she did not offer to help him up. “Remus Lupin, right?”

“Yes,” he said, panting a little as he finally got to his feet again, holding on to the cage bars for support.

“Tonks,” she replied. “I would shake your hand, but you know…”

“This isn’t funny!” Remus snapped, still horrified by the whole situation.

“It’s not,” Tonks agreed. “Your clothes are here—” She pointed, her eyes still closed, into the corner of the room. “—and I promise I’m not looking.”

He could hear her bite back a laugh, and to his surprise, he did see the funny side to it, so it was with the tiniest smile that he picked up his clothes, which were not, as he expected, sweaty and torn in places. Instead, they were warm and clean, and he gratefully pulled them on.

“Thank you,” he blurted out, his footsteps loud in the cavernous room as he reached Tonks, who opened her eyes and smiled at him.

“Not a problem, Mr Lupin. It’s my job.”

He frowned. “Why, what do you do? How did you find me? Last time I heard, the Ministry didn’t want anything to do with… with…”

“Werewolves?” she finished. “I’m an Auror. Mad-Eye — you know Mad-Eye, don’t you?”

“Yes,” he said, breathing a sigh of relief. Thank Merlin for him. No wonder most of the Death Eaters had disappeared so quickly.

“He got tipped off about a werewolf cage fight. Apparently, it hasn’t happened since You-Know-Who was last in power. We’re unsure who was behind it, only that it’s likely they were ex-Death Eaters, who said they were Imperiused by You-Know-Who, wanting to have a bit of fun.”

“That sounds about right,” Remus muttered gloomily. “I was fortunate enough never to be in any during the war, but I know people who were. A few were killed by the humans they were trapped with, but most of the time, the werewolves won.”

“The ‘humans’?” Tonks repeated, raising her eyebrows. “What are you trying to say — that you’re not human?”

“Of course I am not. Miss Tonks—”

“Just Tonks is fine.”

“Tonks, you cannot pretend that you weren’t scared last night.”

“I was,” she admitted, “but that doesn’t mean you’re not human, Mr Lupin—”

“Remus.”

“Remus,” Tonks amended with a smile. “You seem like a perfectly normal man. And from what Kingsley told me, you were so concerned for his safety that you actually asked him to—”

“Anyone would have done the same.”

“No. Not everyone. Only someone human would.”

[Ginny Weasley Potter]

​Name: Pooja/ Ginny Weasley Potter
House: Hufflepuffey
Title: Disloyal
Ratings/Warnings: 3rd-5th years, mild profanity
Word Count: 710
Link to Post Containing Poem (include the title if it's a prophecy): Ron's Loyalty by ToBeOrNotTo...WellYouGetTheGist/ Jess
A/N: This isn't my best, but I love Ron.


CRACK!

The sound of my own Apparition reverberates along the deserted street that I have landed in and I gasp as sharp pain becomes evident on my fingers. There are two wands in my hand, slippery with sweat from my palm and I stuff the other one into my rucksack, retaining only my own wand. The pain in my fingernails is there again and as I raise my hand to examine them, I can see dark blood pooled in what minutes ago were perfectly good nail beds.

“Lumos,” I mutter, and the wand lights up to reveal two missing fingernails. I sigh. It’s bloody painful, but I’ve got other things to worry about.

I can hear my own breath as I walk down the deserted street, holding my cloak close to my body. The moon shows its head through the thick clouds, casting a weak, silvery light at me. I am miles away from where they are, and I must Apparate again. What was I thinking anyway, leaving them that way? Where was my mind? Harry is my best mate, and Hermione… well, she’s my best friend too. We are, and have always been in this together, and I am ashamed of being such a bloody git and walking out on them.

I walk along until dawn, hoping I won’t run into another bunch of Snatchers. It was bad enough facing those ones, though they weren’t very bright. I just want to be back with Harry and Hermione now. Walking out like this isn’t who I am, it isn’t who I should be. I am not a coward and I’m not a disloyal friend. Yet, I proved the very same to my two very best friends. Will they ever forgive me? But then, maybe I won’t forgive myself.

My anger from before is completely gone. I have no idea why I was angry in the first place. It isn’t Harry’s fault. I’m worried for my family, yes, but that isn’t Harry’s fault. It isn’t even Hermione’s fault, that she chose to stay with Harry and help with the Horcruxes. She did the right thing. I was wrong, like every other time.

It starts to rain and I let myself get drenched. I have to Apparate back— and I will. I’m guessing they’ll stay on a while anyway— so I’ll go back, find them and apologise— and maybe it will be okay again, if they decide to forgive me, that is. But they will. I know they will. They understand what the bloody locket does to me, don’t they?

Merlin, I hate that thing. It brought so many thoughts to my mind, which really couldn’t be right. It just made things worse. I really don’t want to be anywhere near that locket again. I am inclined to blame everything on the Horcrux, but I know that it ultimately boils down to me. I must get back to Harry and Hermione.

***

I am down on my knees, shaking uncontrollably, tears streaming down my freezing face. The moonlight reflects from Gryffindor’s sword as it lies beside me, having recently destroyed a Horcrux. I can feel Harry’s unsure eyes on me as he collects the locket, and then he’s beside me, an awkward hand on my shoulder. I do not shake it off, and listen to him silently as he tells me about how he regards Hermione as a sister. But I already know that. I already knew that. That isn’t the reason for my distress.

It is everything I’ve done; the way I’ve behaved with my friends, combined with the worst fears of my heart being displayed before me, all at once. I don’t know what to say, how to react, except hate every part of me that thought in this way.

In the end as Harry embraces me, I know he has forgiven me, and I can think of forgiving myself now. I can’t wait to see Hermione now. Maybe she has forgiven me too, and I hope she has. I’m back with my best friends, with the new promise of sticking with them through whatever happens now, and facing everything together. And I promise myself; this will never happen again. I will never fall back on my loyalty. Never again.

[hestiajones]

Welcome to WEEK 3
of
TTB December Monthly: The Year That Was

Our chosen pillar for this week is bannermaking, so we'll be using two past challenges from BannerMaker’s Association as our plot bunny production houses: Genre-Swap Mini Challenge and Challenge XXX: Critique! This is how things are going to go down. Pay close attention O..O

First, click on this and this to get to plot bunnies. That’s a lot of banners to pick up ideas from.

Now, the two challenges are different, but your mission is the same:

+ Choose any banner from the Genre-Swap Mini Challenge or Challenge XXX: Critique and write a drabble inspired by it. The connection between the banner and your drabble should be obvious. For example, when specific characters are used, stick to that; if not, think of characters and situations that will fit the drabble. In the second challenge, there‘re banners made for already published fic; ignore the fic. This week, your task is to fit the banner into your story.

+ There is no "first come, first served" rule here. A banner can be used by more than one drabblist, but not more than once by the same drabblist. We're interested in seeing different interpretations by different people.

+ You can write more than one entry; all entries, however, must be edited into the same post to avoid clutter.

+ Your drabble(s) should have a word count of 500-800. Make sure it's devoid of errors. It's safest to get it beta-read or looked over by another pair of eyes. Or, at least, let it stew for a while, return to it and scrutinise with a magnifying glass.

+ Your drabble(s) should follow MNFF guidelines. No Professor-rated fic. We're willing to see 6th-7th year, with all applicable warnings mentioned in the author note.

+ Your drabble must be submitted in the default font format. It's uncomfortable to read a weird assortment of font colours (especially if it doesn't go well with the background) and bolded/italicised text that jumps out at me/shies away from me. Formatting should be used for a reason, and I can't see any reason not to use the regular fonts for entries. It makes the judging process smoother. Yeah, we barmaids reserve the right to use whatever font we want in whichever way because... because GOYLE RULES!

+ You have until 5 a.m. GMT, December 23rd, to post in this thread. Remember that if you participate without fail every week, you will get a shot at winning the Overall Winner title.

+ You do not need to have participated in the previous week.

+ Try not to get Cake-Womaned. Good Lord!

+ Use the following form for your submissions:

Name:
House:
Title:
Ratings/Warnings:
Word Count:
Link to Post Containing Banner:
A/N: 

Any questions may be directed to the Ask a Barmaid thread. For more information regarding the monthly, go here. NOW, GET YOUR QUILLS OUT AND COOK US SOME TASTY DRABBLES!

[WrenWinterSong]

Name: WrenWinterSong

House: Hufflepuff

Title: The Brain and The Ginger

Ratings/Warnings: 1st-2nd years // none

Word Count: 723

Link to Post Containing Banner: The Supersisters by Ginny Weasley Potter

A/N: This is my first time Drabbling, so please correct me if I do anything wrong!

Hermione slammed the newspaper on the table, nearly hitting the edge of Ginny’s plate and knocking fresh eggs into her lap. Luckily, Ginny was clutching her mug of coffee on top of her knees scrunched between her chest and the table, so the hot liquid didn’t cause any third degree burns. She lifted an eyebrow at her soon-to-be sister-in-law as she calmly took another sip of her morning brew.

“What is this?” Hermione growled, obviously annoyed that she hadn’t gotten a reply yet.

Ginny peeked over her legs to read the headlines printed across the first page. “Looks like Madame Malkin’s is having a sale on dress robes. Did you want to go later?”

The sound that came from Hermione’s mouth sounded more like a hiss from Crookshanks than a human groan. “No, Ginny, you know what I mean. This. The largest picture on the front page where there’s supposed to be the beginning of your Quidditch interview.”

Ginny shrugged, not seeming at all interested in the picture of the two of them from May’s annual celebration of the Battle of Hogwarts stretched across the page. The timing had been just right to catch both women right after work and featured Ginny in her dark green Harpies uniform and Hermione in dark purple business robes. “We got a bit off topic.”

“A bit off topic?” Hermione repeated, dumbfounded. “The Super Sisters? Really, Ginny?”

“Okay, I’ll admit, it’s a bit cheesy, but it’s fitting, don’t you think? You with your elf saving and me with my Quaffle catching? Harry got a laugh from it.” She added the last bit with a pout, a sad attempt to ward off the fury of Hermione Granger.

With a sigh, the curly-haired brunette finally took a seat. “Honestly, I don’t even care about Dennis Creevey’s lame slogan, but no one was supposed to know about this for at least another six months.” She flamboyantly pointed to her left hand where a simple silver band encircled her ring finger with a single sapphire set in the middle.

“I thought you weren’t going to wear that until after you wedding,” Ginny commented with a cheeky smile, obviously forgoing caution.

“I don’t see the point now that the Prophet quoted you saying I’ve been married for an entire week!” Hermione’s voice grew in shrillness as she spoke, ending with a palm to the wooden surface of the table.

“I’m glad I haven’t set my coffee down yet,” Ginny muttered, gulping down another mouthful. She cleared her throat before speaking at a normal volume. “What’s the issue?”

Hermione’s mouth hung open as she stared at Ginny in shock, her annoyance beyond explanation.

Taking the moment of silence to explain herself, Ginny cooly watched her finger trace the rim of her mug as she said, “The majority of the wizarding population is in distress, thinking they’ve missed the wedding of the decade. Well, the second one at least. Anyways, you’ll just have to deal with a few angry looks for a week or two, then you can get back to planning your wedding peacefully and freely wearing your engagement ring in public at the same time. Besides, they would have figured it out eventually. This way, they won’t be hunting down a wedding in January. Speaking of which, your bridesmaid’s dresses better be coming with a warming charm. And I’m wearing boots whether you agree or not; just giving you a warning.”

Hermione blinked a few times, processing Ginny’s words. “Thank you,” she finally mumbled, having no better reply.

After a few minutes of silence, Hermione finally stood up and gathered her bag from beside the fireplace where she had dropped it on her mad rush in. “I best be going before I’m late. I’ve a meeting with Shacklebolt at quarter till nine to finalize some more regulations.”

“That’s why you’re the brains.” Ginny stretched her neck over the back of the chair to flash Hermione a smile that she couldn’t help but return.

“Do well in practice today, ginger.” Hermione turned around with a grin of her own before grabbing a pinch of Floo powder from the red ceramic bowl sitting on the mantel.

“Always do!” Ginny chirped, returning to her eggs as Hermione disappeared in a burst of green flames.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

Name: WrenWinterSong

House: Hufflepuff

Title: 4 AM

Ratings/Warnings: 3rd-5th years // Slight Substance Abuse

Word Count: 796

Link to Post Containing Banner: Burning For Revenge by majestic_ginny

A/N: I interpreted the woman in the banner as Katie Bell. I could not determine whether this assumption is right or not, so I hope this Drabble still follows all the rules.

The chiming of Elizabeth Tower’s bell echoes across the empty, snow-covered courtyard set before me. I fiddle with the end of my red and gold scarf, tugging out loose pieces of thread that have been threatening to fray for years. I let them fly into the wind as four rings sound from the bell tower and resonate though the empty alleys. Even busy London quiets at this time of night or, should I say, morning.

This evening started off as a happy celebration as the Appleby Arrows bested the Tutshill Tornadoes in a very close match, winning by a mere ten points, but still a satisfying victory for my last match before winter holiday. Swapping Fire Whiskey for Brandy was a fun new experience for the majority of the team that had never tasted Muggle brewery, but we accidentally wandered into a heated football game. After a dozen yellow cards and some questionable referee calls, the Quidditch players and I found ourselves in the midst of a bar fight. We agreed to meet up tomorrow and Apparated as quickly as possible.

Not willing to go back to an empty flat just yet, I meandered through the late-night crowds until I found myself facing the old clock tower and dusting the snow off a wooden bench. According to the fading chimes, I’ve been here for over an hour.

As my mind returns to sober speed and tells me it might be a fitting idea to head home, I see him.

On the other side of the courtyard, with his black robes fluttering around his ankles and a tote bag at his side, he rubs the side of his face with his palm and adjusts the thick dark scarf around his neck. Even from this distance, I recognize the pale blonde hair instantly.

He turns down the sidewalk leading straight passed me without seeming to notice anyone at all. He’s only a few feet away when I finally realize why Draco Malfoy is in Muggle London. I never would have guessed that the Ministry would allow another Malfoy to work within their walls, but I had heard rumors that Harry Potter convinced Minister Shacklebolt to allow Malfoy the chance to redeem himself.

I disagree.

I keep my eyes locked on him as he walks passed, inches from my bench, yet his gray eyes, though open, see nothing. I’ve taken the last few minutes to think up something to say when he finally catches my eye, but that moment never comes. He’s several steps beyond my bench before I realize I’ve lost my chance.

Unwilling to waste my clever greeting, my tired mind and impaired reasoning brings me to my feet. I step onto the sidewalk directly behind the man who’s caused so many nights filled with a few sparse seconds of nightmares before waking up in a cold sweat. The lasting effects of the curse not only include a phobia of Hogsmeade, but also dreams that bring me back to that terrifying moment when I thought the pain would kill me before Leanne found help.

“Good evening, Draco,” I say, grinning at my confidences. As I intended, the formality of his first name causes him to stop and turn around. I know the moment he recognizes me; his face flashes several emotions before falling blank. Without his infamous smirk, his sharp features loose their severe superiority, but now that I’ve spoken, I can’t back down. “I never got the chance to properly thank you for that necklace you gave me.”

His eyes harden at my words and stare straight into mine for so long that I finally have to look away. I try to pretend not to notice the dark purple bags under his eyes. I try to ignore the stubble forming on his cheeks and upper lip. I try not to take note of how much weight he’s lost or how unkept his hair has grown. I try especially hard not to see the hurt behind his stony gaze.

My heart softens at the sight of this man whose lost everything and now must work at the Ministry for probably too low of a pay until four in morning with Christmas only a fortnight away. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”

I don’t need revenge. Life has already caught up to Draco Malfoy, and I don’t need to add anymore guilt.

When I look at him again, he’s found his smirk and plastered it on his face in an expression that has morphed from familiar snide to, for lack of a better word, friendly.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less from a Gryffindor.”

As he turns away and continues on his walk, I feel that an understanding has passed between us without either of us intending.

[ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor]

Name: ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor
House: Ravenclaw
Title: Almost Got You
Ratings/Warnings: 3rd/5th Year: Horror imagery, Zombies, Ebilry, Ridiculously Mild Profanity
Word Count: 776
Link to Post Containing Banner: Almost Got You by Evora
A/N: Yay zombie fic, right after the world ‘ends’.

Air burned in his chest as Harry careered through the forest. He was running faster than he ever had before, legs screaming with the effort, yet he could put no distance between himself and them.

“Harry!” Ron called over his shoulder just in front of him, “They’re gaining on us! We can’t outrun them.”

Fighting the urge to vomit, Harry gasped out, “Yes we can.” He wasn’t certain if that reassurance was for his friends in front of him or for himself, because he knew it wasn’t true. The Inferi had been pursuing them for a half hour, and whatever distance their fresh legs were able to put between their group and the oncoming horde of undead was diminished with fatigue and fruitless attempts to fight them off with magic. All the fire from their combined efforts could only scratch the surface of the mass of whitened limbs reaching for them.

Apparition was not an option. They had tried as soon as they saw the Inferi bearing down on them, but not so much as a twinge came forth. Whatever calamity had sent the pack of zombies on them had seen fit to thwart any escape attempt. And now they were tired and slowly but surely being overtaken.

Harry stared at Ron and Hermione’s backs in front of him. He had encountered the Inferi only once before in the Horcrux cave, and the idea of those monstrous beings attacking his two best friends, his lifelines, made him feel sick all over again. Something had to be done. They had to escape.

And Harry was going to make that happen, or die trying.

His mind thrummed as he debated whether to tell Ron and Hermione what he was going to do, but as they were not likely to accept it, Harry decided against it. If they tried to stop him, it would end up being for nothing.

This was it. Harry Potter, the Chosen One, the one fated to destroy Voldemort, was going to die. Not in battle or in some glorious flash of predestination, but having his humanity ripped away by skeletal hands that reeked of decomposition. However, if it meant that his friends would live, it was a price he was willing to pay. There was no greater honour than to lose one’s life for the sake of loved ones. He hadn’t understood it until that moment, but it was what his parents had done and was what he needed to do. With that resolve, he stilled his flight and turned around.

There were so many of them. Dozens, measuring into at least the hundreds, plodded forward unflaggingly, all focused on the three people they were chasing. Their sunken eye sockets seemed to stare into him, daring him to prove himself a superior force when there was simply no contest, but he was going to give them one hell of a fight nonetheless.

Spell after spell ripped from his wand. Knock-Back Jinxes and Blasting Curses and Fire Charms held back the front lines; however, where one fell, two more took its place. Harry was holding them off, but not by much and not for long. The only thing he had gained by his effort was that they were coming after him, not Ron or Hermione. And that was enough.

Soon, there were mere feet between him and the Inferi, which quickly became inches and then nothing at all. Slimy hands grasped his clothing and his limbs and pulled. A shriek propelled itself from his body of its own accord as he felt muscles tearing and bones disjointing. Pain ricocheted into every corner of his being and filled his ears. The only sound he could hear was a voice in the distance, calling out to him.

Harry! Harry!

“Harry!”

He sat bolt upright, chest heaving and skin coated in sweat. Looking around, Harry saw the familiar confines of his room at Number Four Privet Drive, with his Aunt Petunia staring at him in horror. “What on earth was that noise?”

For a moment, Harry debated whether to tell her about his dream, but he declined. Dying at the hands of monsters for the sake of one’s family (Ron and Hermione would always be his family) was something she had spent almost sixteen years not appreciating. He shook his head. “Just a bad dream. You can go back to bed. I’ll be quiet.”

Nodding cautiously, Petunia left the room, and Harry could almost envision her casting suspicious glances at his door as she headed back to her own bed.

However, he meant to keep his promise. There was no way he was going to sleep this night.

[Padfoot11333]

Name: Lily aka Padfoot11333
House: Hufflepuff
Title: One Year, Seven Months
Ratings/Warnings: 3rd-5th (character death, general dark imagery)
Word Count: 650
Link to Post Containing Banner: Rise of the Dark Lord by majestic_ginny
A/N: This was written very quickly since I figured I may as well participate in ONE of these challenges…This is told from Hermione’s POV, in case it wasn’t clear from the story/banner. Also, the second-to-last line is paraphrased from Aberforth Dumbledore in DH. (I changed the tense.)



One year, seven months and twenty-two days. That’s how long it’s been since Harry died.

One year, seven months, and twenty-one days. That’s how long it’s been since You-Know-Who took over.

Remember, once, when we could say his name without fear? Those days are long gone. The Taboo changed all that. Now, we even fear to say You-Know-Who, for the thought that he might know it was us. The thought of him finding us is one that nobody can bear to contemplate.

Ron, Ginny and I stay hidden. We gave up hope of a victory long ago; there’s almost no one left. Everyone stayed in complete shock after Harry’s death. Made it easy for the Death Eaters to pick us off, one by one.

Today, we stay in that old tent, still. There’s a forest that’s quite literally in the middle of nowhere. We’ve been here for nearly three months. A new record for us.

When Ron is in one of his good moods, he’ll say, “Maybe they’ve just given up.”

When he’s in one of his bad moods, he’ll wonder if maybe they’ve already found us, and are simply waiting to make a move.

*

Hogwarts is terrifying.

We get the occasional newspaper when we’re scrounging for food. Voldemort controls the papers, of course. He controls everything. But we still hear the news, however biased it is: Slytherin is the house good enough for everyone. The majority of people that remain there were in Slytherin originally, anyway. Everyone else, either dead or hidden away in some remote area.

Sometimes, Ron brings the topic back up. “We could go back,” he says.

We couldn’t go back.

Harry not only led us, he was our hope when we had none. Without him, we have nothing.

It’s that sort of thing that I couldn’t explain to Ron. He wouldn’t understand. (Perhaps, I’m only thinking of it entirely wrong.)

So every time Ron brings the topic of returning to Hogwarts up, I reach up, kiss him softly, and say, just as softly, “We can’t.”

*

Ginny. Oh, Merlin, Ginny. For such a long time, she was nothing. Curled into a shell of no Harry, no Fred, no Percy, no Bill. Molly and Arthur and George and Charlie are still alive, somewhere. We haven’t seen them in such a long time. Ginny doesn’t want to go back there. Says she’d rather stay with us.

She doesn’t care that it’s more dangerous with us. Perhaps it’s that we remind her of Harry, and she wants whatever memories she can get. Perhaps it’s that she can’t bear to face her family, yet.

For such a long time, she was unresponsive. It took her months to realise that acting like she was no longer living would not make it so that Harry was once again living. But still, she acts as if there is nothing that she is living for.

I wonder why she does this, and then remember that in this world, there’s not much that I am grateful for, either.

*

I used to be the hopeful one. I did. I used to be the one, even after the battle, that would say that we could pull through.

But that was before I learned how many people died. That was before Voldemort’s ranks swelled (whether in fear or genuinely, I still don’t know) and that was before I realised that I did not want to fight anymore.

Still, Ron does not understand that I was tired. I had been fighting for so long, and for what?

“There might have been a purpose if you hadn’t given up,” he tells me still.

Oh, but I was so, so tired of everything coming to nothing.

*

One year, seven months, and twenty-two days since You Know Who won, it ended, and anyone who said otherwise was kidding themselves.

And all that’s left to do now is wait.

[iMusic17]

Name: Ellie/iMusic17
House: hiss hiss
Title: The Girl Who Didn't Stay
Ratings/Warnings: 6th-7th, profanity, suicide, angst, cousin ship, bad relationship
Word Count: 763
Link to Post Containing Banner: Black Water Rising by xOxLyDzzOx
A/N: Relation to the banner is a little more iffy. I looked closely at the inspiration behind the banner, (the song lyrics to be specific) and am using the girl(s) on the banner as the same person, and am reflecting their brokenness/sadness. Also, my apologies, barmaids.

Why do you stay?

I put you through hell. You think I don’t notice that I’m breaking you, but believe me … I know. I know what I’m doing, but I can’t stop it. There’s something wrong with me. I know I’m screwed up. It got better for a while, though, when I started dating you.

You don’t believe me. You think I’m lying ? I would never lie to you. You’re … you’re perfect. I’m not trying to flatter you! If it wasn’t for you, I don’t know where I’d be.

I’m not lying to you! Do you think I want to hurt you- that I want to see you this way? You’re not eating, you’re not sleeping- look at me when I’m talking to you! I love you. Why can’t you see that?

You’re the only person that’s keeping me alive right now. You can’t leave me. I can’t be alone. I’m not strong enough; you know what will happen. Do you want me to die, Lily? If I lose you, I have nothing left.

I KNOW I’M A MONSTER! I know, but I’ll try. I promise I’ll try. You have to believe me. We’ve been through so much. Our family … I thought you wanted to tell them. I thought you really wanted to be together. Truly.

No, don’t cry. Please don’t cry, Lily. I love you. Come on, you have to believe me. I’m sorry I got angry, but … I know, I’m trying, Lily, I’m trying. Please. I’ll talk to someone, I’ll see someone, it will get better. Don’t cry. Please.

Do I think you’re beautiful? Of course, love. Why wouldn’t I? You’re perfect. When have I ever told you otherwise?

What? You’re not ugly. No. You don’t hate yourself. You can’t. Please, Lily. Please. You’re not like me. You’re not. Don’t ever say that.

STOP SAYING IT’S MY FAULT! Not everything is my fault! I know I’m f***ed up, I know I’m crazy, but stop saying it! I can’t hear it from you, too. Vic, Dom, even your brothers say it. I hear them. I hear them all. I didn’t mean to hurt that Hufflepuff during Quidditch. I just got so … angry.

I’m trying to control it, love. I really am. It’s just hard. And I can’t do it alone. Please. You’re not going to leave. I don’t know how you stay, but you can’t leave me alone with myself.

You want to run away form this right now. I know you do. I know it’s wrong, I know that I’m wrong, but you are so, so perfect. That’s all that matters, right? If you run, the darkness will catch up with me. I can’t handle that.

Where are you going? Lily, please. I’ll get better. What do you mean you’re done? Stop saying I’m a monster! I can’t hear this from you.

*

After that, you never came back. You left me knowing who I was, an angry monster. You told me just how screwed up I was. That no one could help me. You’re … you’re happy now. You ran away from the darkness.

You ran away from me.

Without you, it caught up with me. I’m sorry. I tried to run, I tried to fix it. But it’s filling me up like oil in my lungs. Black, slippery, and drowning me. There’s no one to save me this time, though. Everyone gave up on me.

I don’t blame them, but it still hurts. So I’ll leave them out. Goodbye, Lily; lovely, perfect Lily.

*

A single white rose sits by a grave. It’s been two years. Two long years since everything happened. She tried to tell herself it wasn’t her fault, that by leaving him she hadn’t killed Louis. He was sick, and Lily couldn’t be in that kind of relationship anymore.

But Lily still hated herself. She should have stayed, she should have done something. He didn’t deserve to die.

Lily still loves him. She misses the good times; his smile, his blue eyes, the fire behind his kisses. But she still remembers the bad. When he would just get so angry …

No. Despite everything, Lily loves Louis. She loves her cousin, no matter how wrong it was, and he shouldn’t have died.

So just like every weekend, she leaves a rose. Breathing in the cool breeze, leaving a flower and a flood of tears. But the black water wasn’t filling her lungs. She was free.

Lily’s only regret was that Louis could never free himself.