marginalia: (sirius)


two drabbles a day through june 4th. [livejournal.com profile] dorrie6 took the odd numbered chapters, [livejournal.com profile] marginalia took the evens. to avoid "remixing" the chapters, part of the challenge was to NOT set the drabble during PoA.

chapter title master list )
marginalia: (Default)
since [livejournal.com profile] dorrie6 posted, i thought i'd go ahead, even though it's not even 4am here. and then i'll sleep. a reminder, the master list of drabbles lives here. many thanks to all who were so enthusiastic about this project. it's been great fun for us too. *hearts*

[Owl Post Again] - Remus/Sirius

He knows better to expect an answer, but what he knows and what he feels exist worlds apart. In the dark and quiet night, he makes tea and then forgets about it, letting it cool on the kitchen table as he writes.

When the sun comes up and 12 Grimmauld Place begins to stir, he ties the letter to the owl's leg and watches her disappear. He curls at the foot of the bed, too large for him alone, and waits.

She returns at dusk and nips his finger affectionately. Apologetically. He unties his letter, tears it, and begins again.
marginalia: (Default)
[The Dementor's Kiss] - Draco/Neville
yeah, I don't know where it came from either

"I'm not convinced he had a soul for them to remove," Draco said, almost to himself. "Do you suppose they protested? Do dementors have standards for criminals?"

"A little more earth in that one," Neville said, eyeing the repotting. Then, "Sometimes I think Harry has it easy. He knows his parents are dead. But what about us? Sorry your mum lost her mind? Your father his soul? There's no sympathy card for that."

Draco is all sharp angles, but relaxing into the circle of Neville's arms he is surprised at the strength beneath the softness. Neville holds off the chill.
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[Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs] - Remus

He wonders what would happen if he spoke with them through the Map, whispering secrets and watching the ghostly words appear. Words from versions of themselves, imprisoned in parchment. Alone in the early morning hours he knows, bitterly, that it's only magic.

He knows all of this, and yet he thinks on what to say. There are too many words and yet too few for this house divided. Sometimes he dreams he'd just ask Padfoot, why?

It has only been nine years. Two dead, one shell locked away, and one Dark creature who does not want to know the answer.
marginalia: (Default)
[professor trelawney's prediction] - trelawney and angst.
today's was really a struggle. ah well. they can't all be perfect.

Sybill thought if the interview were on a sunny afternoon it would all go so much better. Instead it was another cold and rainy night in another shabby inn. The headmaster hadn't even invited her up to the school. She knew how this would go already; half of Divination was following the natural course of events, and tonight's led directly to another dinner of lukewarm stew and the job going to some actor who had changed his name to Tiresias.

She lit the candles, slipped on her bracelets, and swore to use the time to perfect her Muggle fortunetelling skills.
marginalia: (designs on you)
[snape's grudge] - snape. obviously.

It wasn't the prank, for all it almost cost him his life. He didn't value his life, not then. And it wasn't the nicknames, the taunting, or the tricks he claimed he wanted to forget. That was all attention. Hate was so close to love.

It was just them. So simple, so impossible. The way James flew, the way Remus and Sirius looked at each other, the way Lily shone. It was the way they let Peter in, because he was in the right house, Severus supposed, there was no other reason, nothing he had to offer.

That was enough.
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[The Patronus] - Neville

Professor Lupin taught Harry the Patronus charm long before everything, when Black was still alive and everyone thought him dangerous. Neville wondered what Lupin's Patronus looked like, what memory he used to create it. Lupin didn't look like the sort of person who had a lot of happy memories. Neville understood that.

Neville knew something more, though. He knew that happy memories didn't have to be big and dramatic. They could be little things: the feel of earth between your fingers or the scent of a girl's hair.

It's the holding-on bit that's important, and Neville holds on tight.
marginalia: (Default)
[the marauder's map] - fred/george

Faint lines raced out from the center, twisting across the parchment. George looked closer and the dots faded save one hidden away in an unknown room.

Mischief managed, two lefts and a right, and he was down a hall he had never seen before, introducing himself to a portrait of a young lady. The witch was ostensibly well bred, but with a wicked sparkle in her eye. "Punting?" he tried, and the portrait swung open.

Fred pulled him, blinking, into the darkness. "You cheated!"

"Does it matter?"

"Not particularly," hands slipping beneath robes. "As I see it, we both win."
marginalia: (Default)
[flight of the fat lady] - Neville, Dean
ok, this is really silly. and i'm taking some liberties with canon. sorry.

As he approached the door to Gryffindor Tower, nose deep in a Muggle novel, Neville caught sight of a flash of pink silk disappearing out of the corner of the Fat Lady's frame. "Not again," he sighed, and settled down on the cool stone to read and wait for the Fat Lady to return or a fellow classmate to come out.

When the painting swung open, he scrambled to his feet. "Dean! Thanks!"

"She's run off again?" Dean asked, blocking the entrance open.

"Looks it. Oh!" Neville peered back into the frame. "See that? Yellow feathers."

Dean laughed. "Canary creams!"
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[talons and tea leaves] - molly, ginny.

Ginny was of their best fliers. Best soldiers. It didn't make it any easier on Molly, sending her only girl in the footsteps of her sons. Another battle, another generation of loss.

She sat at the kitchen table, surrounded by ghosts, hands cradling a rapidly cooling cup of tea. She watched the leaves swirl at the bottom, but Divination had never been her strong point. One of the Order's owls appeared, talons clicking against the windowsill. Molly closed her eyes briefly, then reached out to take the message.

Post-battle paperwork. Bureaucracy invented by Death Eaters. Save dinner? Love, Ginny
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[the leaky cauldron] - remus/sirius

The inn was a balancing act between Muggle and wizard London. Remus often thought of it as a tug-o-war, a fight, not a dance. It was shabby and comfortable, though, and this afternoon it seemed fraught with meaning. He drew circles in the condensation at the bar and turned over dichotomies in his mind, man and wolf, lover and friend, dead and alive. He had spent too long in the inbetweens, too long denying the existence of the extremes.

Remus finished his drink, tossed some coins on the counter, and stepped out into the damp grey of Charing Cross Road.
marginalia: (Default)
so. the cunning plan. intro for those wot don't read [livejournal.com profile] dorrie6. all one of you :) for no apparent reason i figured out last night that there are 11 days until harry potter and the prisoner of azkaban opens in the us. and there are 22 chapters in the book. so [livejournal.com profile] dorrie6 and i are each going to write a drabble a day, based on the chapter titles. i'm the evens. be sure to check out her lj for the odd ones. i mean, the odd-numbered ones. and so it begins. i cannot believe how long it took me to write this one.


[aunt marge's big mistake] - harry/ron, of all things

"Should we send a card to my Aunt Marge?"

Ron peered over Harry's shoulder. "Isn't she the one who gave you dog biscuits?"

"As gifts go, that was fairly decent." Harry pointed out. "Remember the time I got an old sock?"

"Was that the year you got a horrid sweater from my mum? Hang on, that doesn't narrow it down."

"Though, really," Harry considered, his expression softening. "Her biggest mistake was giving them to me a few years early. Snuffles might have appreciated the change in diet."

"Definitely a step up from rat," Ron agreed. "Add her. She's still family."

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