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Mar. 6th, 2004 04:52 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nnyHad a lot of fun drabbling tonight, with a whole bunch of people I've never been in a chat room with before. There was much chaos, and discussion of felching, munging(?) and manatees. (Not in conjunction.)
Cheers all who joined in- it was grand.
*g*
Four drabbles:
Sirius/Remus: what does betrayal feel like?
Betrayal? Betrayal is cold.
Betrayal is… staying in Sirius’s flat, because there is nowhere else you can afford to go. Not turning the heat on, because you can’t afford it, and because Sirius always turned up the thermostat as high as it would go. (It always felt wrong, getting owlpost from Sirius. It felt like his letters should be delivered by brightly coloured, tropical birds.) Warmth reminds you of him.
Betrayal is crawling into an empty bed, wearing socks because your own body heat has never been enough.
Betrayal is the first time you bring someone home.
Betrayal is cold.
Snape/Voldemort: Proving loyalty
The boy is shaking. His wand is broken, his function served- the Dark Lord is dead. Two simple words have rid the Wizarding world of a monster.
That was what Dumbledore called him. “Monster.” When Snape told of how old he’d been, when Voldemort had chosen him, marked him, broken him, touched him, taken him. Dumbledore forgave Snape. He’d been a child, when he was so corrupted. He knew better now.
He knew where to trust. He knew that it was better to be made use of. He knew where he was needed.
He smiled, as he slit Harry’s throat.
Neville/Harry: making the choice
Neville didn’t mention the scar on his arm. It wasn’t nearly so exciting, odd, or iconic as Harry’s. It was just a scar. A white line that circled his forearm like an orobouros, a snake eating its tail, never ending.
So no one marked it, when Neville disappeared. Students had been deserting the school for weeks, and his was just another loss. No one thought- that’s Neville. He wouldn’t leave like that. No one thought- Neville would stay and fight. No one noticed his absence, because he’d barely been noticed when he’d been there.
They spelt his name wrong, in their account of his victory.
Harry/Remus: All true love must die.
He was waiting.
He *had* been waiting, when Harry wasn’t old enough, for the day when the child would no longer be so. When Harry would be a man, and would view him as such, experience him as such.
He *had* been waiting, when Harry wasn’t ready, for some sign that he had hope, for something to hold onto when he was alone.
He *had* been waiting, when he’d not received an answer to his quiet admission, for Harry to say three words back.
Now he waited for Harry to turn to him and see that he was too old.
Cheers all who joined in- it was grand.
*g*
Four drabbles:
Sirius/Remus: what does betrayal feel like?
Betrayal? Betrayal is cold.
Betrayal is… staying in Sirius’s flat, because there is nowhere else you can afford to go. Not turning the heat on, because you can’t afford it, and because Sirius always turned up the thermostat as high as it would go. (It always felt wrong, getting owlpost from Sirius. It felt like his letters should be delivered by brightly coloured, tropical birds.) Warmth reminds you of him.
Betrayal is crawling into an empty bed, wearing socks because your own body heat has never been enough.
Betrayal is the first time you bring someone home.
Betrayal is cold.
Snape/Voldemort: Proving loyalty
The boy is shaking. His wand is broken, his function served- the Dark Lord is dead. Two simple words have rid the Wizarding world of a monster.
That was what Dumbledore called him. “Monster.” When Snape told of how old he’d been, when Voldemort had chosen him, marked him, broken him, touched him, taken him. Dumbledore forgave Snape. He’d been a child, when he was so corrupted. He knew better now.
He knew where to trust. He knew that it was better to be made use of. He knew where he was needed.
He smiled, as he slit Harry’s throat.
Neville/Harry: making the choice
Neville didn’t mention the scar on his arm. It wasn’t nearly so exciting, odd, or iconic as Harry’s. It was just a scar. A white line that circled his forearm like an orobouros, a snake eating its tail, never ending.
So no one marked it, when Neville disappeared. Students had been deserting the school for weeks, and his was just another loss. No one thought- that’s Neville. He wouldn’t leave like that. No one thought- Neville would stay and fight. No one noticed his absence, because he’d barely been noticed when he’d been there.
They spelt his name wrong, in their account of his victory.
Harry/Remus: All true love must die.
He was waiting.
He *had* been waiting, when Harry wasn’t old enough, for the day when the child would no longer be so. When Harry would be a man, and would view him as such, experience him as such.
He *had* been waiting, when Harry wasn’t ready, for some sign that he had hope, for something to hold onto when he was alone.
He *had* been waiting, when he’d not received an answer to his quiet admission, for Harry to say three words back.
Now he waited for Harry to turn to him and see that he was too old.
