septentrion1970 (septentrion1970) wrote in adventdrabbles, @ 2007-12-17 19:02:00 |
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Current mood: | giggly |
Dec 06, Dec 07, Dec 09, Harry Potter, Hermione/Severus, garden gnome
A/N: I'm very, very late in my posting to this community, and truthfully, I don't know if I'll catch up. I'm very sorry about it.
Lots of thanks to my beta, dacian_goddess, who has put the English back into those drabbles.
Title: Escaping his Fate
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: garden gnome
Rating: G
***
He ran, ran as quickly as his small legs would allow. His height put him at a distinct disadvantage: his pursuer was at least ten times taller than him, but he gave it his best shot. So he ran, through the hedge and across the meadow. He was getting breathless, and a stitch stabbed through his left side, yet he carried on running.
“I’ll catch you,” called out the redheaded boy who was chasing him.
That renewed his vigour. There was no way that he, a garden gnome, would spend Christmas painted in gold with a tutu and blue wings.
***
Title: Christmas Shopping
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Hermione/Severus
Rating: G
***
“Here, darling, here’s the list. I’m sorry I can’t go with you, but…”
“I know,” Severus answered. “An emergency. Go, Hermione!”
“I love you!” She gave him a peck and Apparated to her office.
Severus picked up the shopping list Hermione had hastily scribbled down before she’d departed and eyed it warily; a Christmas tree, garlands, tinsels, mistletoe, holly and… a wraith. He knew that most of those things were essential to give their home a Christmassy feeling, but a ghost? Well, if she said so…
“You mean a wreath!” exclaimed the saleswoman to whom Severus had handed the list.
***
Title: La Bûche
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Hermione/Severus
Rating: G
This is set in the French Culture universe here on LJ or here on IJ
***
“I’ll have you know that I have the utmost respect for the French culture,” Severus answered.
“Are you seeking a position at Beauxbâtons?” inquired McGonagall. She couldn’t get over the fact that her colleague had preferred Bûche de Noël to pudding. She cast a disgusted glance at the rolled cake heavily covered with chocolate cream.
“No, Minerva, I am not. But I’ve learned to appreciate the finer points of certain French traditions.” His gaze didn’t leave his personal secretary for the International Board of Potions Masters’ face; Hermione was licking custard from her spoon as if she was licking his tongue.