HP drabbles: August 2008 drabbles with alisanne and r_grayjoy [adult]
Title: August 2008 drabbles Authors: alisanne, celandineb, and r_grayjoy Fandom: HP Pairings: various Rating: adult Summary: These drabbles were written to prompts from various folks.
"A wizard's staff has a knob on the end..." Oliver belted out.
Neville recognized the words, but the tune was unlike any he'd ever heard. A Kneazle being trampled produced a better melody.
Settling the watering can down next to the cringing Mimbulus Mimbletonia, Neville walked into the bathroom, only to be greeted by the sight of a wet, soapy, and extremely aroused Oliver.
"And he frequently takes it in hand!" Oliver bellowed.
Neville grinned, leaning against the wall to watch. After all, he wasn't with Oliver for his singing abilities.
"What are your plans for today?" Bill asked, dipping his toast in egg yolk.
"I shall continue my work on refining Wolfsbane. Perhaps the addition of Armadillo Bile will..."
"It's Saturday, Severus," Bill interrupted. "Surely you can find something more stimulating to do?"
"My research is more than adequate in that regard," Severus replied.
Bill shook his head. "How... tame."
Eyes flashing, Severus rose and came around the table. A wandless spell had Bill floating and bound helplessly. "Indeed?" purred Severus. "Tame?"
Bill grinned. The day was looking up. He wouldn't regret the loss of the rest of his breakfast.
This one's a triple drabble: sassy_cissa wanted Harry/Draco, "fall"; kabal42 wanted Harry/Draco, "purple"; and fodirteg wanted Harry, "author."
A Bit of Healthy Competition
The treacle tart looked almost perfect, like the morning sun shining on the cream-colored bare shoulder of a gorgeous young blonde flying recklessly over the majestic World Cup Quidditch pitch, except it had a few lumps.*
Draco leaned over Harry's shoulder and snorted. "That's dreadful."
"It's meant to be," Harry said. "It's my entry to the Bulwer-Lytton contest."
"The what?"
"It's this contest that's run every year looking for the worst opening lines for imaginary novels," Harry explained.
"Then that should win hands down," Draco said. "I've never read prose more purple. I didn't know you aspired to become an author."
Harry blushed. "I don't, exactly, I just thought this sounded like fun."
Draco leered. "Have you considered writing erotica?"
Harry's blush deepened but he flashed a wicked smile. "It's not that easy," he said. "You try it."
"I think I will," Draco declared, grabbing some parchment. He scribbled for a minute then pushed it towards Harry.
Draco's romance with Harry had thus far been like a ride on the Knight Bus, not the kind that slowly leaves the station, builds momentum, and then races across the countryside at breathtaking speed, but rather one that spends all day caught in Muggle traffic.*
"That's romance, not erotica," complained Harry.
Draco leaned back. "Perhaps you should show me the difference."
Discarding the quill, Harry rose and peeled off his clothes, letting them fall to the floor in an untidy heap. Draco watched, mesmerized.
"Sufficiently erotic for you?" Harry challenged.
"It's a start," Draco said. "I'd enjoy a bit more action."
Harry walked over to Draco, straddled his chair and sat, grinding their hips together. "Enough action?" Harry whispered.
"I don't want to distract you from your writing, though," Draco said mischievously.
"Sod that. Good sex is better than bad writing any day."