Serpentinelion drabble mini-fest
Jun. 22nd, 2008 01:45 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
blamebramptonI think this is probably the first short short story I have written since I was about ten ... For ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
serpentinelion's mini-fest, and do check out other entries from pushdragon, sansa1970, lillithium, liriaen, potteresque_ire and rickey_a. They are all brilliant!
Title: Decline and Fall
Author: blamebrampton
Rating: Soft R
Words: 500
Summary: The inside of her head was not where they ought to be.
A/N: Thankslegomymalfoy, and pushdragon and the fiendfyre girls for the idea, encouragement and help.
Warnings: Ginny POV.
“Where is it this time?”
“Rome, but I’m not going.”
Harry kissed the top of Ginny’s head as he walked past her chair. “It’s too much fuss.”
“But all the others will be there.”
“S’pose. I’m off to shower. Coming to bed?”
“In a minute.”
Ginny watched him walk away. She glanced back down at the table, where the Prophet’s front page was dominated by news of the upcoming conference. Hermione smiled shyly out of a photograph. Behind her Draco Malfoy walked purposefully across the frame. He glanced towards the camera, august and imperial, then stalked away. She watched it three times.
She turned the paper over, and walked to their bedroom, where the rest of this conversation always happened.
The first line was hers. “Are you sure?”
Harry’s damp head poked out of the bathroom. “Sure of what?”
“Missing the Senate, it’s a chance to network.”
Look down from the Palantine hill for him.
“You know I don’t care about that.”
There was the smile, and those honest eyes. He tucked his towel around his hips as she slid past him, reaching for her toothbrush.
“But you can talk to other Aurors about your reforms.”
Walk down narrow streets, following a fair head.
“Kingsley can do it.”
“Harry, you know you’re the one they want to meet.”
Meet with that other in an ancient hotel.
“That’s just fame.”
“It’s your triumph.”
Over her, over him.
She put her toothbrush down and smiled at him in the mirror.
“You want to, admit it.”
“I want to stay here, with you.” He stood close behind her and nuzzled her hair.
She only knew about the once. Before he had come to find her, in the weeks after the war ended. When everything was insane. When people turned to each other blindly. Neville had let it slip over too much drink, a secret so incomprehensible it couldn’t be kept.
“You should go.”
There were many times she didn’t know about, could not be sure of. Every time she let him leave, she imagined him wrapped around that pale, straight form.
“You should come to bed.” He dropped the towel, and she felt his cock begin to rouse, nudging her from behind as his hands slipped the sundress from her shoulders.
She went. And while he murmured gentle words and made soft movements, she pictured him hard and desperate, bruising cool whiteness beneath hands he never let be strong with her. Saying cruel things, and being loathed in return. An eternal contest, dictated by need. Not the peaceful concord of their home.
The pictures in her mind played their part. She pulled him tight, and wondered if he would notice if she tilted her hips too far, moved him to that place strange for her, perhaps familiar to him.
And tomorrow, when he would go, but with her scent on him, she wondered if the other would know it. And whether she would haunt his bed as surely as he haunted hers.
serpentinelion's mini-fest, and do check out other entries from pushdragon, sansa1970, lillithium, liriaen, potteresque_ire and rickey_a. They are all brilliant! Title: Decline and Fall
Author: blamebrampton
Rating: Soft R
Words: 500
Summary: The inside of her head was not where they ought to be.
A/N: Thanks
legomymalfoy, and pushdragon and the fiendfyre girls for the idea, encouragement and help.Warnings: Ginny POV.
“Where is it this time?”
“Rome, but I’m not going.”
Harry kissed the top of Ginny’s head as he walked past her chair. “It’s too much fuss.”
“But all the others will be there.”
“S’pose. I’m off to shower. Coming to bed?”
“In a minute.”
Ginny watched him walk away. She glanced back down at the table, where the Prophet’s front page was dominated by news of the upcoming conference. Hermione smiled shyly out of a photograph. Behind her Draco Malfoy walked purposefully across the frame. He glanced towards the camera, august and imperial, then stalked away. She watched it three times.
She turned the paper over, and walked to their bedroom, where the rest of this conversation always happened.
The first line was hers. “Are you sure?”
Harry’s damp head poked out of the bathroom. “Sure of what?”
“Missing the Senate, it’s a chance to network.”
Look down from the Palantine hill for him.
“You know I don’t care about that.”
There was the smile, and those honest eyes. He tucked his towel around his hips as she slid past him, reaching for her toothbrush.
“But you can talk to other Aurors about your reforms.”
Walk down narrow streets, following a fair head.
“Kingsley can do it.”
“Harry, you know you’re the one they want to meet.”
Meet with that other in an ancient hotel.
“That’s just fame.”
“It’s your triumph.”
Over her, over him.
She put her toothbrush down and smiled at him in the mirror.
“You want to, admit it.”
“I want to stay here, with you.” He stood close behind her and nuzzled her hair.
She only knew about the once. Before he had come to find her, in the weeks after the war ended. When everything was insane. When people turned to each other blindly. Neville had let it slip over too much drink, a secret so incomprehensible it couldn’t be kept.
“You should go.”
There were many times she didn’t know about, could not be sure of. Every time she let him leave, she imagined him wrapped around that pale, straight form.
“You should come to bed.” He dropped the towel, and she felt his cock begin to rouse, nudging her from behind as his hands slipped the sundress from her shoulders.
She went. And while he murmured gentle words and made soft movements, she pictured him hard and desperate, bruising cool whiteness beneath hands he never let be strong with her. Saying cruel things, and being loathed in return. An eternal contest, dictated by need. Not the peaceful concord of their home.
The pictures in her mind played their part. She pulled him tight, and wondered if he would notice if she tilted her hips too far, moved him to that place strange for her, perhaps familiar to him.
And tomorrow, when he would go, but with her scent on him, she wondered if the other would know it. And whether she would haunt his bed as surely as he haunted hers.
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no subject
Date: 2008-06-22 08:26 am (UTC)Puccini is like broccoli with added angst. And broccoli with garlic would be just the thing for you at the moment, young lady!
My physiotherapist used to play a dance remix of my heart will go on when I shattered my foot; as she said "You can leave here when you can run again, and if this doesn't get you off your walking stick, nothing will." Worked a treat!
Can we do phone posts here? I had an idea it was only US ...
no subject
Date: 2008-06-22 09:03 am (UTC)One day, if you're feeling particularly masochistic, I'll explain to you the story behind my immune system of despair, and why I don't do vegetables. It's enthralling, if the rest of your life is spent watching amoebas reproduce. There is, however, a lamb roast in my immediate future, which will make me happy, if not well.
Shattered foot? Ouchies! Did you report her to the Geneva Convention. Oooh, Genevra Convention - a name for a Ginny hate fic... *has bunny* I'm glad you survived. Did Celine Dion have a cleft palate as a child?
Yep, if you have a paid account you can do phone posts. You used to have to dial a US number, but I believe that they have Aus numbers available now. I've done a few back in the days when I contributed to the capitalist tendencies of our blog host.
no subject
Date: 2008-06-22 10:25 am (UTC)I cannot countenance the idea of no vegies; I would die. I love vegies more than any other food group and would even give up chocolate if it was a choice between it and sweet potato or good broccoli (especially if the latter came with garlic and a dash of olive oil). And no, I am not a health freak ...
Lamb roast is delicious, too, though. I had an idea of doing a roast this weekend, but J is yet to finish doing the dishes.
As to the foot; never ride a bicycle in Sydney!! Actually, she was a truly magnificent physio, my orthopaedic surgeon was all "Ah, yes, sorry about the not being able to walk properly again" to which I replied with "Ha! You speak lies, white man, watch me manage." She took one look, said "Do you have a high pain threshold? Yes, should be fine then." and had me off my stick within the month. Bless.
I'm not sure I want to do phone posts, you've heard how appallingly wanky I can sound. Let us not mention the deranged! But that's right, I have paid, I can do photos! Here kitties ...
Go on, Ginevra Convention, where she has a tragic Celine Dion addiction and tortures cripples. Dare you!
no subject
Date: 2008-06-22 10:53 am (UTC)Mmmm sweet potato. I understand your feelings, and wish I could share them, but sweet potato is an essential food group. Not sure about it v's chocolate... will think about it.
You mentioned the bike accident - I shudder. My pain threshold varies, I've never been too sure how you actually judge it. But I'm so glad you got through that.
You sound adorable on the phone - and you have the best laugh ever. I may not have recognised the deranged, given my natural state of being.
Hmmm...
Oh, dear Lord! There is was again. There was no escaping it. Silencing charms didn't work, it cut through them like a knife through... pretty much anything, really, because knives are generally fairly sharp.
Why did she always think this was a good thing? What misfiring piece of her brain came back to this every time he was injured? After all, this time it was only a mildly maiming hex, and he was sure to get the use of his lower limbs back soon. He was in therapy, dammit!
Two weeks trapped at home. The children at school, Ron assigned to a temporary partner to keep going with their time-critical investigation, Hermione lost in the bowels of the Ministry on 'Unspeakable' business - and here he was, caught in the loving web of his wife's care and no way to escape.
It was getting closer. Bugger! Must be almost time for his massage and potion regime. Harry cringed, his skin crawling. It wasn't that he didn't love his wife. He was sure that somewhere deep down the flickering remains of the fiery passion they'd shared somewhere between Potions and Divination classes still... well, flickered. Or maybe just smoked a little and glowed dully.
Merlin wept! She was just outside the door now, and he could feel the wax in his ears already softening in self-defence.
"Did you ever knooooow that you're my HeRoooooooooo..." came warbling through the two inch thick solid timber door. "You're everything IIIIIII wish IIIII could BeeeeEEEeeee..."
The door opened, the screeching volume suddenly at eardrum piercing levels.
"Honey?" he begged, knowing he would be drowned out, but determined to make one last try at saving himself. "Honey? Do you think maybe...?"
Ginny turned bright, feverish eyes on him, already flexing her fingers as her mouth opened wider, pinching the brackets of her cheeks into whitened ridges. Someone at St. Mungo's had convinced her of the 'healing power of song' (Harry strongly suspected it was Malfoy - damn his eyes for becoming a healer), and his wife was on a mission. He hadn't allowed her to help save him during the war, and now she was out to do so with a vengeance.
Harry was sure that somewhere in the world there were laws against this sort of thing. Some rule against the unreasonable torture of captives? As his Eustachian tubes twisted in abject fear and his surviving neurons all went into a huddle somewhere behind his sinuses, Harry felt the words slipping away from him... all he could think was 'Ginevra... Convetion? no that's not it... but close'
Oh well, at least she hadn't moved on to the Celine Dion yet. That was her favourite! And while she was sure her heart would go on, Harry kind of wished his wouldn't.
A breath, a momentary blessed silence, but before he could overcome the ringing in his ears and muster a feeble argument, it began again.
"Every niiiight in my dreams...."
no subject
Date: 2008-06-22 11:03 am (UTC)Oh Harry, you poor brave soul! I love the idea of Malfoy suggesting it. Hilarious and so likely. Is it wrong that I imagine Ginny with a thin soprano warble? Genius, though twisted and perverse genius!
I think my laugh is just well practiced, I have a very funny life in many ways ... as evidenced by my flist and their comments!!!
no subject
Date: 2008-06-22 11:06 am (UTC)Well, you did dare me. :P
Your laugh is spontaneous and natural and like a good class of champagne. ;)