Because I'm obsessed with the idea of writing this...
Name: Eleanor Lupin
Prompt: Remus Lupin for Andromeda Black
Prompt: Abraxas Malfoy for Tom Riddle
Ratings/Warnings: 3rd-5th year, sexual situations
Word Count: 798
A/N: I hope I did this pair justice.
What a relief I find amongst these pages! I, Abraxas Malfoy, am not one for an excessive amount of emotion. To the outside world I am the proud young man who comes from wealth and good breeding, and is engaged to the lovely Catalina Rosier. I have what everyone thinks is a charmed life, but all of it is a lie. Only amongst your pages have I found any sort of solace from the confliction of emotion I am always under. Only amongst your pages can I admit the truth of who I am, or who I truly love.
I almost exposed my true feelings to the world today. I blame it on the month. Valentine’s day is inching closer and closer. It’s always a day that saddens me. It’s supposed to be a day where you express what you truly feel for the one you love, but how can I express my love to Tom Riddle? Who would understand any of it? Certainly not my family or any of my friends. I’m not sure what is worse to them: the fact that Tom Riddle is poor and of questionable parentage, or the fact that he is a boy. Both reasons would be enough to turn me into a social pariah.
But I digress. As I wrote earlier, I almost slipped. It happened in the corridor heading down to the Slytherin Common Room. Some Gryffindor sent flying cherubs throughout the corridors causing declarations of love to be thrown about like ricocheting arrows.
I was surrounded by the euphoria of the emotion when I ran into Tom Riddle. Our bodies collided for just a moment, but in that moment, I felt as if time had stopped. His lips were so close to mine, and his eyes sparkled in the firelight. His thick hair fell around his angelic face in waves. He is maddening, always so maddening to look at.
Dear Merlin, in that moment, I almost reached out, took his perfect face into my hands, and kissed him. I could have done it, and a large part of me wanted to. There I was standing over this gaping precipice of desire, wanting ever so much to tumble into it, and for one insane moment, I almost did. If Ethan Rosier hadn’t come down the corridor when he had, I may not have stopped myself.
But alas he did, and I hastily stepped away from Tom, unable to look into his dark eyes. I was afraid he would see how much I wanted him. Rosier didn’t think anything of it. He just thought Tom and I had been talking about our school work again. It was true we were Potions partners, but Tom never really needed my help in that area, or any area for that matter. He is a genius, though not many people know it yet.
Ethan didn’t linger long in the corridor, and soon left. I didn’t want to linger either, but Tom stopped me when he called out my name. To hear my name come from his lips sent a throb of longing through me. I was almost afraid to turn around, but I did.
And what do you think I saw, Diary? Tom Riddle was smiling. It was faint, secretive, and a little devilish, but it was there. My heart leapt into my throat, and I wondered if it was possible he felt the same towards me as I felt towards him. He held out the book I must have dropped on the floor, and when I reached for it, my fingers brushed his, and his eyes latched onto mine.
You can’t even imagine the electricity that surged through me. I felt as if I was a live wire. I’m certain he knows how I feel, and before he left I was also certain I saw a look of desire in his eyes, but maybe it was a desperate hope that I’m not alone with such tumultuous feelings. Why can’t I just ask him if he felt the same? And if he did feel the same, where would we go from there?
But I also know the truth about myself. I know I will marry Catalina Rosier, and have the children our parents want. I will continue our illustrious bloodlines, and I will do it with a smile because I am a coward. Just thinking of telling Tom the truth makes me quiver with fear. So I do what I can. I write it all down here, and hide it away from the light of day. That is the only sort of courage I can summon in myself. Maybe one day I will be able to do more, but for now your pages are my only refuge.
So adieu for a little while.
Prompt: Susan Bones/ Seamus Finnigan
Prompt: Marcus Flint/Oliver Wood
Ratings/Warnings: Um...somewhere between 3rd/5th years and 6th/7th Years: Sexual situations, Mild profanity, rudeness
Word Count: 585
A/N: Hahahahahahahaha! This is awful and terrible and shouldn't be read by anyone. As an added bonus, there is a handwritten version, which is done opposite-handed and very quickly to avoid anything resembling legibility. Salut! Page 1, 2, 3
I hate everything. I really do. Life is more unfair than the fact that Mudbloods get to go to our school. I’m stuck in this stupid place for one more year, and it’s all Wood’s fault. I know he’s not in my house, but it’s definitely his fault. Damn him and his buggering arse for distracting me all last year.
It all started the day Malfoy’s dad delivered the Nimbus 2001s. That Weasley kid hexed himself, and Malfoy made some Mudblood girl cry. Wood wasn’t happy, and once practice was over, he came to see me and let me know just how hacked off he was. He pushed me up against the changing room wall and pressed up against me hard. It made me feel funny, and I think I liked it. Don’t remember a thing he said, but Merlin’s shaggy bumcrack, he was angry. I didn’t know that was sexy, but I guess we do learn things at school here and there.
That night, I couldn’t sleep. All I could see was Wood’s mouth right in front of mine, and his whole body pinning me to the wall. Good job I know how to take care of that problem. Jones, the bloke in the bed next to mine, hates me now (he said so the next morning), but I don’t care. A man has his needs, my dad always says.
Well, here’s the buggered up part. The next night, I thought about him again. I mean, that’s not bent, is it? I hadn’t had a good w**k in a while, so really, anything could’ve set it off. Not to mention I’d already w**ked to every fit girl in this sodding place, and firsties really just don’t do it for me. Wood’s pretty enough, so I suppose if I squint he’s about on par with that fifth year Ravenclaw prefect girl who talks too much.
But that wasn’t enough. Every time I did it, I just wanted more, and all I could think about was him and his stupid blue eyes and his stupid jaw and his stupid abs that I may or may not have seen while he was showering after Potter broke his arm with a Bludger. I really wanted to look closer, but you know how it is. If you look at a bloke’s bits, then you’re definitely queer. I ain’t queer, so waist up only.
I found some firsty Gryffindor with a camera and made him give me a picture of Wood. The kid was going to ask why, and I told him I’d turn him inside out with a plumbing spell if he even thought about asking, so he didn’t. It wasn’t a great picture, since Wood was in full Quidditch uniform, so I made the kid go and get me one from the locker room. He wasn’t going to, but I asked him how he fancied a close-up shot of his own arsehole, so he did. I don’t think I left my room all that weekend.
Essays started piling up, and books I hadn’t opened in days were left in my trunk. I had better things to do. This went on for months — just me, Wood, and wood.
So, naturally, it’s completely Wood’s fault I flopped all of my NEWTs. So, this year, I’m going to get him back. I wonder how he likes w**king his way to failure. I have a whole year to make it happen. Oh, sweet vengeance, you will be mine.
Prompt: Bellatrix Black for Arthur Weasley
Word Count: 551
A/N: I couldn't find the strikethrough thing, so italics = crossed out. It's not hugely important anyway.
Andromeda gave me this for Christmas. I don't know what she expects me to do with it.
Hogwarts is the same it was before the holidays, and all the years before. The subjects are irrelevant and the people are dull. It matters so little, though. I have friends outside school.
Potions is always such a relief. So few Gryffindors in that class. They are everywhere else, and they are always infuriating. I can't stand them. (Except maybe no)
I have locked this with a spell now.
I think I'll add another.
There's a boy in my Transfiguration class.
He's really only a boy, even if we're of age. He looks like he hasn't caught up with his growth spurt yet.
He is a complete imbecile most of the time. He still can't cast his freckles away, and we've been doing human transfiguration for weeks now. Maybe it's because there are so many of them.
Sometimes he smiles. I don't know if he smiles at me. Sometimes I think he does. I don't know why he looks sad when he does. It makes no sense. Why would he smile if he is sad?
I saw him at breakfast today. I never eat in the Great Hall on weekends anymore - it feels so pedestrian. Yet I did today, and until I saw him, I didn't even know why. And now I'm furious, at myself, at him, at her, at all of them. He's a Gryffindor. Of course he is. I knew that. Even if I hadn't known, he's such a bumbling idiot that he has to be one. But seeing him with the rest of them, and being forced to realise it
he sat with her, right next to her
that Prewett girl
I hate her. Always have, but now it burns.
the fat hag
I can't stay mad at him. I doubt he even knows what I was mad at him for. I don't even really know.
I doubt he even knows that I was mad at him.
I doubt he even knows that I exist.
Transfiguration is actually turning out to be not so terrible.
We worked in pairs today.
And Pig Prewett doesn't take Transfiguration.
His name is Arthur. Like the King.
He made me laugh today. Not out loud, of course, but still. I laughed inwardly.
I don't do that often.
I hate her. I hate hate hate hate hate her. I wish she would just die. I wish I could kill her. Who knows. I'm meeting my other friends in Hogsmeade soon. A lot is going to happen, and soon. And I hate her so much.
I think they had a fight. I saw him going into Hogsmeade alone. I almost walked with him. Almost. But I had somewhere else to be, and I could never explain that to him.
He is calm and peaceful.
I have always had a storm inside of me.
But sometimes, maybe just sometimes, he makes me forget that all I want to do is scream and tear the world apart. Just looking at his stupid face calms me down.
But I can't. I couldn't. I had to meet the others. It had been arranged in advance.
Sometimes I still think of him when no one is looking.
Last edited by Karaley Dargen; 02-28-2013 at 06:39 PM.
This completely gorgeous banner, which makes me happier than a squirrel, was made by Hokey
This was particularly hard for your barmaids to judge because we got quality entries – many of which, we’d still like to add, had capitalisation errors which counted against them. –sigh- We didn’t just focus on technical issues, though. Your imagination and ability to capture the tone of the writer and the angst of their desire were pitted against the others’. So, in the end, we also went for originality of concept, as well as enjoyment factor. Without further ado, here are the winners:
1st Place - the opaleye & ToBeOrDor
2nd Place – Karaley Dargen
3rd Place – eternalangel
Points are awarded thus:
Julia – 5 + 15
Draco7052 – 5
majestic_ginny – 5
Theloonyhermione – 5
eternalangel – 5 + 5
ToBeOrDor – 5 + 15
Karaley Dargen – 5 +10
For any queries or discrepancies, you may contact me or Carole. Thank you for your participation!