Where does the time actually GO?
Aug. 2nd, 2010 12:52 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
blamebramptonIt was Friday afternoon five minutes ago, and now it's just gone midnight Sunday night! Outrageous! We did manage to fix the front path, which had been lifted a ridiculous amount by the ludicrously over-sized tree next door, and my sewing room is a place of organisational delight, but that accounts for about four hours. There was another one up in Newtown today catching up with ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
pseudicide , but that leaves at least twenty more awake hours out there somewhere. And I've looked under the sofa.
However, quick fandom things! If you remember me mentioning glompfest the other day and thought 'Why yes! To be glomped sounds less like the sort of thing reserved for pervy tentacle fanciers and more like the sort of thing I'd be for …' then click here now! Prompting is open and there are even instructions for the nervous.
If it is still Sunday for you, and you have a muse of fire, you might like to try a quick drabble at the Harry Potter Birthday Drabblethon. Open till midnight, there are some fabbo prompts awaiting.
I say muse of fire, because I made a stab at two, and let me tell you it was only by virtue of the fact that you're allowed to cheat and submit a two-hundred word ficlet that I managed anything. I have a muse of glacial shift, but thanks to global warming, that's not the handicap it once was.
The first was for the prompt Sirius's two-way mirror, forvaysh11 .
Aberforth gave him the mirror after the war.
Harry was grateful – he’d lost his shard in the chaos of rescue, and it was something of Sirius’s. Every now and then he’d take it out and have a chat.
He didn’t expect an answer. But he knew he would be heard.
Tonight, he was talking nonsense. He blamed the Ogden’s. ‘It was a good party, it’s just, I thought that by the time I was thirty, I’d be sorted, you know? Don’t get me wrong, obviously things are better for me than they were for you. Work’s fine, got great friends, not trapped in Azkaban … But the mild pity is a bit wearing. Even Ginny sets me up with her girlfriends. No point mentioning I’d prefer one of her ex-boyfriends …’
He was drunk. He could have sworn he heard Sirius laugh, and a grey eye blink in the mirror. Time for bed.
The knocking woke him.
‘Malfoy? It’s two/’
‘Twelve years, and you still have my wand. It’s bloody theft.’
‘What are you … is that Champagne?’
‘Happy Birthday. Let me in.’
‘I’m already drunk.’
‘Even better.’
It took Harry a moment to catch on. He let him in.
*********
The second was for a prompt in which Harry discovers a distraught Malfoy in a Muggle bar, forhpfangirl71 .
‘Do you have any Ogden’s?’
‘Is that an ale?’ Patience is the barman’s virtue.
‘It’s firewhisky.’
‘Plenty of nice whiskies. You’d want a single malt, right?’
The young man drops his face into his hands for a moment, then says: ‘Yes, fine. Anything. Large.’
The barman pours a triple of his best, with outrageous price. The young man checks his notes carefully before paying.
The man who comes in next stands out, all fashionable shaggy hair and long red coat. He walks straight up to Blondie and mutters something.
‘There’s no need for Aurors,’ says Blondie, over-loudly. ‘I’m not missing, I’m absenting myself.’
‘Just go back,’ says Redcoat.
‘Can’t. I’ve lost everything.’
‘No you haven’t. You still have your family. They’re worried.’
‘They’ll get over it.’
‘Hardly.’
‘Why would you care?’
‘You’re my first missing person, and I have a perfect record so far.’
Blondie snorts into what remains of his drink, then finishes it. ‘Typical. You’re perfect, and I’ve fucked everything.’
‘Not everything.’ Redcoat grins at Blondie’s wide eyes and adds, ‘Ron would have said. Now will you come?’
The barman smiles as a grin slides over Blondie’s face, too.
‘Have a good night, gentlemen,’ he calls after them.
**********
On a final note: WHY did I watch Return to Cranford? I knew it would be death, death, brief romantic interlude and death! Damn you, Gaskell!
ETA: An ACTUAL drabble of 100 words, becausechantefable is a dreadful influence.
'Oh, go on, Muriel, you can tell me.'
'Well, Augusta, all I can say is that Ginevra broke that boy's nose for very good reason.'
'I heard she found a blonde hair on his robes.'
Muriel stirs her tea three times before leaning forward and speaking in a low voice. ‘She went round to his house to tell him she was ready to take him back, and she saw the Malfoy boy in there wrestling with him.’
‘You mean to say that it was all a miss-hit?’
‘No, dear, wrestling.’
‘Ah.’
‘Indeed.’
‘Lucky it was just his nose, I suppose.’
pseudicide , but that leaves at least twenty more awake hours out there somewhere. And I've looked under the sofa.However, quick fandom things! If you remember me mentioning glompfest the other day and thought 'Why yes! To be glomped sounds less like the sort of thing reserved for pervy tentacle fanciers and more like the sort of thing I'd be for …' then click here now! Prompting is open and there are even instructions for the nervous.
If it is still Sunday for you, and you have a muse of fire, you might like to try a quick drabble at the Harry Potter Birthday Drabblethon. Open till midnight, there are some fabbo prompts awaiting.
I say muse of fire, because I made a stab at two, and let me tell you it was only by virtue of the fact that you're allowed to cheat and submit a two-hundred word ficlet that I managed anything. I have a muse of glacial shift, but thanks to global warming, that's not the handicap it once was.
The first was for the prompt Sirius's two-way mirror, for
vaysh11 .Aberforth gave him the mirror after the war.
Harry was grateful – he’d lost his shard in the chaos of rescue, and it was something of Sirius’s. Every now and then he’d take it out and have a chat.
He didn’t expect an answer. But he knew he would be heard.
Tonight, he was talking nonsense. He blamed the Ogden’s. ‘It was a good party, it’s just, I thought that by the time I was thirty, I’d be sorted, you know? Don’t get me wrong, obviously things are better for me than they were for you. Work’s fine, got great friends, not trapped in Azkaban … But the mild pity is a bit wearing. Even Ginny sets me up with her girlfriends. No point mentioning I’d prefer one of her ex-boyfriends …’
He was drunk. He could have sworn he heard Sirius laugh, and a grey eye blink in the mirror. Time for bed.
The knocking woke him.
‘Malfoy? It’s two/’
‘Twelve years, and you still have my wand. It’s bloody theft.’
‘What are you … is that Champagne?’
‘Happy Birthday. Let me in.’
‘I’m already drunk.’
‘Even better.’
It took Harry a moment to catch on. He let him in.
*********
The second was for a prompt in which Harry discovers a distraught Malfoy in a Muggle bar, for
hpfangirl71 .‘Do you have any Ogden’s?’
‘Is that an ale?’ Patience is the barman’s virtue.
‘It’s firewhisky.’
‘Plenty of nice whiskies. You’d want a single malt, right?’
The young man drops his face into his hands for a moment, then says: ‘Yes, fine. Anything. Large.’
The barman pours a triple of his best, with outrageous price. The young man checks his notes carefully before paying.
The man who comes in next stands out, all fashionable shaggy hair and long red coat. He walks straight up to Blondie and mutters something.
‘There’s no need for Aurors,’ says Blondie, over-loudly. ‘I’m not missing, I’m absenting myself.’
‘Just go back,’ says Redcoat.
‘Can’t. I’ve lost everything.’
‘No you haven’t. You still have your family. They’re worried.’
‘They’ll get over it.’
‘Hardly.’
‘Why would you care?’
‘You’re my first missing person, and I have a perfect record so far.’
Blondie snorts into what remains of his drink, then finishes it. ‘Typical. You’re perfect, and I’ve fucked everything.’
‘Not everything.’ Redcoat grins at Blondie’s wide eyes and adds, ‘Ron would have said. Now will you come?’
The barman smiles as a grin slides over Blondie’s face, too.
‘Have a good night, gentlemen,’ he calls after them.
**********
On a final note: WHY did I watch Return to Cranford? I knew it would be death, death, brief romantic interlude and death! Damn you, Gaskell!
ETA: An ACTUAL drabble of 100 words, because
chantefable is a dreadful influence.'Oh, go on, Muriel, you can tell me.'
'Well, Augusta, all I can say is that Ginevra broke that boy's nose for very good reason.'
'I heard she found a blonde hair on his robes.'
Muriel stirs her tea three times before leaning forward and speaking in a low voice. ‘She went round to his house to tell him she was ready to take him back, and she saw the Malfoy boy in there wrestling with him.’
‘You mean to say that it was all a miss-hit?’
‘No, dear, wrestling.’
‘Ah.’
‘Indeed.’
‘Lucky it was just his nose, I suppose.’
