InsaneJournal

Drabble meme! (Yes, again!)
1. Pick a character, pairing, or fandom you like.
2. Turn on your music player and put it on random/shuffle.
3. Write a drabble related to each song that plays.
You only have the time frame of the song to finish the drabble
You start when the song starts, and stop when it's over. No lingering afterwards!
4. Do ten of these, then post them.

1. A Little Help From My Friends, Joe Cocker

"I'm never going to make it," Percy sighed, collapsing onto his bed. He would never have allowed himself to indulge in such a wallow of self-pity if anyone else were around, but the dormitory room was quite deserted, and he was exhausted from trying to keep up with all of Gryffindor's miscreants. It was hell being a Prefect, some days.

As Percy let out the longest sigh of his young life, Oliver walked into the room from the bathroom, towelling his hair dry.

"Oh," Percy exclaimed, sitting upright, "I didn't know anyone was here. I didn't mean to—"

"Nah," Oliver replied, "You're fine. What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Percy said hastily, tucking away his worries while he brushed imaginary lint from his robes.

"Something," Oliver said, and he sat next to Percy on Percy's bed and slung an arm around his shoulders. Percy wanted to squirm away, but the touch was so friendly, so comforting, something a brother or a good friend would give, and that was when Percy realised. Oliver was his friend. They'd shared a dormitory for five years, after all, and Oliver knew more about Percy than anyone else did, and they'd commiserated over homework and girls and everything.

It was just that Percy was so used to being shunned by his brothers that he hadn't realised what a friend he had.

2. Chick Habit, April March

"I will not be one of your conquests," Fleur had told him the night he first started flirting with her, and Bill had been taken aback. He blinked at Fleur, speechless for a moment.

"I don't have—conquests," he protested, but she narrowed her eyes and he swallowed hard.

"I know about you, Bill Weasley," she responded, drawing herself up to her full height. "And if I assent to dinner with you, then you will treat me with respect and you will be prompt and you will call me the next day. The next day. If you respect me, then I will respect you."

Bill couldn't help but grin. He could get used to this kind of girl.

3. Mexico, James Taylor

Percy stifled a yawn and hoped that Harry and Ginny would soon reach the end of their honeymoon slide show. He was sure Mexico was lovely, but if he had to look at another slide of Ginny lounging on a white sand beach in a bikini, he thought he would scream. His saving grace was Neville, seated beside him on the sofa. Neville's fingers crept towards Percy's in the darkened room and they tangled their hands together. Neville rubbed his thumb across Percy's knuckles and Percy smiled up at the screen where Harry was lost underneath a gigantic sombrero.

Percy didn't need to go to Mexico, or anywhere else. He had everything he wanted.

4. The Only Living Boy in New York, Paul Simon

New York was grey and the drizzle reminded Percy of London, which he supposed was all right. He suppressed the part of him that wanted green meadows and an apple orchard glowing in the sunset and a home filled with afghans and biscuits and red hair. He was on a mission and it wouldn't do to dream of what he'd left behind.

His hotel room was grey, too, modern and cold. Percy stood in front of the taps and thought about how much his father would marvel at the electric bulbs stuck all around the mirror and the hairdryer attached to the wall by a cord.

He shook his head and made his way to the bed, the same as any other bed anywhere. The sheets were cool and Percy slipped between them with a grateful sigh. He would sleep, and in the morning he would see the British Wizarding Ambassador and pass along his information, and then he would go home.

A beam of light crept through the stone-grey curtains and illuminated Percy's hair as he slept in cold grey New York City.

5. Ana Ng, They Might Be Giants

"Oliver Wood," Percy repeated, not voicing his assessment that it was a common enough name with no real indication of personality or anything attached to it.

The boy nodded. "There were four Oliver Woods in my primary school," he said, as if reading Percy's mind, "And at least five others in my town. I think I'm the only one here, though."

Percy thought the boy might be all right, then, as long as he was aware of the need for individuality.

"Well, I'm Percy Weasley," he said, sticking out his hand a little too formally. "I suppose we're to share a room."

6. Walkin' After Midnight, Patsy Cline

Percy couldn't help but wonder why George spent so much time in the Burrow's back garden in the middle of the night. They had all been staying there for over two weeks now, recovering as a family after the loss of Fred. And Percy watched out his window every night as George wandered in circles in the grass, gesticulating with his hands as if he were having a particularly animated conversation.

One night, he finally went down, wrapped in his dressing gown, and waited for George to see him.

George turned and smiled and held out a hand towards Percy.

"Have you come to talk to Fred, too?"

7. Eddie Walker, Ben Folds Five

Arthur like to imagine just walking into Percy's office one day, unannounced, bringing the whole family with him, all of them crowding in and standing around Percy's desk while he just stared at them, shocked, there in his tailored robes and his smartly knotted tie.

He imagined pulling out the family album and showing his son his life there in photographs: bouncing on Auntie Muriel's knee, playing out in the back garden with his brothers, smiling but shaking on Platform 9 ¾ for the first time, his knees and elbows pointy beneath his secondhand robes.

But the trouble was, Arthur always imagined the end, too. Leaving the album on Percy's desk, and the family shuffling out.

He never went because he couldn't face that ending.

8. Wild Wild Life, Talking Heads

Fred collapsed onto his bed in the room he shared with his brother, closing his eyes.

"Rough day today, Georgie," he groaned, stretching.

When he opened his eyes again it was to find George standing over him, grinning.

"Too rough to have a little fun tonight?" George waggled his eyebrows and Fred grinned.

"Never," he replied, and he drew himself up to press against his brother. "Let's put the bed back together first," he suggested, "And then we can have some fun." He ran a hand down George's front, unsurprised to find his brother already hard.

George flicked his wand over Fred's shoulder while kissing him soundly, and Fred could hear the scraping and clunking as the two twin beds changed back into one large one.

"We should probably change to twin beds every morning," Fred murmured against George's throat while unbuttoning his shirt.

"Mmm," George agreed, thrusting against his brother, "In case Mum's ever 'just in the neighbourhood' again."

9. Watching the Wheels, John Lennon

Charlie was used to people thinking he was a bit off. In school, he'd handed in essays that veered wildly away from the intended subject (but which nevertheless ended up impressing his professors, in a roundabout sort of way), and when it had come time to choose a career, he'd ignored all advice but Hagrid's and jaunted off to Romania to follow his bliss.

And it was in Romania that he was no longer considered a bit off—if only because the crew at the dragon preserve was composed of outsiders and misfits who nevertheless somehow fit together into the perfect team.

In fact, Charlie reflected, it might be true that he was the most normal person there—whatever that meant.

10. If I Were Gay, Stephen Lynch

"Neville!" Percy jerked away from the other man, going hot and cold all over. "What the—what—what do you think you're doing? Just because we've had a couple of drinks!" he spluttered, waving his hands in front of him.

Neville just sat there with his mouth open. "You—you're not—I thought you were, heard you were, um. Gay." He swallowed hard and furrowed his brow.

Something inside Percy melted a little at Neville's expression. God, the poor kid. Percy wasn't gay. At least not in any realm in which he would admit it to anyone. Even himself. But that something inside him that had melted was now giving way to something that tingled in a new sort of way, and he pressed forward to return Neville's kiss.

What could it hurt?