drabble time
Jan. 12th, 2006 11:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
asimplechordA couple of weeks ago I posted the drabble that I wrote for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
why_me_why_not's dare: Harry and someone (preferably Snape or Draco) dance in the rain. A reviewer - I can't remember if it was on LJ or at OWL - asked about a scene showing Harry at the ball, dancing with Ginny, and wondered what would happen. This evening I was happily pondering a sequel to the splinch-swap (no hetsex this time, though, I swear, and no mpreg) and suddenly Harry at the Yule Ball popped into my head and would not get out. So here he is. Apologies - it's un-beta'd.
Oh, and the prequel is Dance Lesson.
Title: The Yule Ball
Pairing: None yet, Harry/Draco if you're Sibyl Trelawney
Rating: PG
Genre: pure fluff and cliché
Archived: nowhere yet. I'll go over it in the morning and put it into the vQ at OWL.
One last note: if you see misspelled words or glaring errors, feel free to point them out. I'm terrible at editing my own work.
“—why you couldn’t meet me in the Entrance Hall. We could have made a stunning entrance to the Ball, and everyone would be talking about us instead of—”
Harry let Ginny’s words flow in one ear and out the other. He’d learned over the years that it was easier to let the Weasley temper vent than to argue; it would only prolong his misery if he protested. He considered making the appropriate conciliatory noises, which he knew would pacify Ginny, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He was still annoyed at her, at himself, at the situation. Ginny should be happy I’m willing to attend the Yule Ball with her and stop harping on such stupid, petty details, he thought.
He distracted himself by watching the opening dance being performed by the Head Boy and Head Girl, along with the Headmistress and Deputy Headmaster. McGonagall and Snape looked dignified, and smiled pleasantly at each other as they glided across the floor. The Head Boy and Head Girl, a Gryffindor and a Slytherin, respectively, had eyed each other warily before taking to the floor. To everyone’s surprise, once the initial awkwardness had passed, they appeared to enjoy each other’s company.
When the song ended, the couples bowed to each other and parted ways. By the time the music started anew, Snape and McGonagall had returned to the Head Table, while the two students had turned to their dates and begun dancing again. Slowly other couples trickled out onto the dance floor.
Ron, who was sitting on the other side of Ginny, stood and extended a hand to Hermione with a flourish.
“Shall we, my lady?” he asked with a foolish grin.
Assenting, Hermione took his hand and rose, and they joined the dancers circling the Great Hall.
“Well, are you going to ask me to dance or are we going to sit here all night?”
Subduing a flare of resentment, Harry responded to Ginny’s prompt.
The music was simple, the rhythm similar to the one Draco had hummed during his dance lesson a few weeks ago, so Harry thought that he should be able to handle a simple, straightforward dance. Hand on waist, other hand in hand, a step forward – right onto Ginny’s foot. On his second try, this time looking where he stepped rather than making eye contact with Ginny, he managed to avoid her feet. Once they had started, Harry steered them with relative ease, if little grace, and they navigated the room in fits and starts.
It was a relief to Harry when the song drew to a close. He led Ginny back to their table, and then he departed in search of refreshments for them and for Ron and Hermione.
At the punchbowl, he debated between the punch and the champagne, and finally chose the latter. He was balancing four flutes of the sparkling stuff in both hands when he felt a presence at his shoulder.
“Need a hand with those?”
Draco. He’d been a bit distant with Harry the last few weeks. In fact, this was the first time in days that Harry had seen him outside of staff meetings or meal times.
“Sure – bring one for your date, too.”
A brief frown wrinkled Draco’s brow before he responded, “I’m here stag tonight, Golden Boy. I wouldn’t want to break any hearts.”
“Prat! Your ego knows no bounds!” Harry teased.
Draco responded with a playful sneer. “The Malfoy mystique is legendary. You only wish you had such appeal, such debonair grace, such—”
“Such a swelled head! Come on, take one of these before I drop them. We’re over here.” With a nod in the direction of their table, Harry headed back through the crowd of revelers.
Draco’s presence at the table was not greeted with enthusiasm. Hermione hadn’t quite forgiven him for the incident at the last Hogsmeade weekend, and her coolness was all the excuse Ron needed to needle the ex-Slytherin about everything from the loss of the Malfoy fortune (Ministry war reparations funds) to his lack of a lady-friend. Ginny sat silently, casting hostile looks at the blond. Harry tried to cover the awkward silences, but conversation quickly stalled. Finally, Draco stood and made his excuses, disappearing back into the crowd despite Harry’s protests that he stay.
“Hermione, I think they’re playing our song.” Ron took the easiest out, avoiding the storm of temper he could see brewing on the horizon.
Several long moments of quiet passed while Ginny just looked at Harry resentfully. His face was blank, utterly empty, while he battled back his anger and assumed a mask of polite indifference.
“Shall we join them?” He rose and extended his arm. Surprised, Ginny accepted his invitation.
Harry’s calm and control, however, deserted him on the dance floor. Rather than picking up where they’d ended their last dance, he could not find the right steps. Each time he and Ginny tried, they were offbeat from the music or going the opposite direction, and Harry could tell that Ginny was becoming extremely annoyed. Thankfully they’d stuck to the edge of the dance floor, so there were few witness to their clumsy efforts; one of those few was Draco, who was leaning casually against the wall by the punchbowl, watching them with a lazy smile.
The final straw came when Harry stepped on Ginny's toes, tripping forward. In an effort to catch himself, he shifted his weight, and his other foot caught on the trailing hem of her dress robes, ripping the hem irreparably.
“Merlin, it’s a good thing you’re so graceful in the air – you can barely manage to walk straight on the ground! Can’t you do anything right tonight? Haven’t you ever-”
Ginny’s harangue went on and on, growing louder and louder; with each syllable the number of people watching them grew larger, and Harry grew more embarrassed and more irate. Finally he couldn’t control himself any longer.
“Why did you want to come with me tonight if I can’t do anything right? If I remember correctly I didn’t invite you, you just ASSUMED you’d come as my date. If you don’t like my behavior or my manners or the way I dance, you didn’t have to impose yourself on me like that!”
“Oh, like you’d have invited anyone else! Who'd have you? If not for your name, no one would want you – you’re inept at everything when it comes to women, from dancing to kissing.”
Since he’d been sixteen the last time they’d kissed, Harry thought that was a low blow. He was about to respond when Draco butted in.
“I can’t speak for the kissing, but I can assure you that Potter here is an excellent dancer, Weasley… with the proper partner.”
“As if! He’s never danced with anyone but me or Parvati, and we all know how well that went!” Ginny retorted. Her tone was possessive, as if she had witnessed and chronicled all of the events of Harry’s life, implying that if she hadn’t known about it, it wasn’t possible.
Draco simply lifted an imperious eyebrow and extended a hand to Harry. Without thought to what he was doing or the consequences, Harry accepted it. The pair moved to the center of the dance floor.
“Do you want me to lead, still?”
“If that’s what you want.”
So Harry put his hand on Draco’s waist and wove the fingers of his other hand through Draco’s, then looked him in the eye. After counting one measure of the music, he found his rhythm and steered Draco into the sea of now still spectators. The crowd of students and professors that had been covertly listening to his and Ginny’s argument gaped in amazement at the sight of the two men, once bitter enemies, now dancing.
Vaguely, Harry could hear a shriek of outrage from Ginny’s direction; it was followed by a stream of cursing that would have prompted Molly Weasley to wash her daughter’s mouth with soap. He paid it no mind.
When the music stopped, Harry and Draco paused. As at the end of their last dance, Harry’s gaze was fixed on Draco’s, and he was drowning in rainwater eyes. However, this time, instead of stepping out of the embrace, he nodded acceptance, and the grey eyes glinted for a moment with something that looked like relief.
“Thank you.”
With that he stepped back, letting his arms fall to his sides. Draco melted into the crowd, and Harry turned to face the music.
why_me_why_not's dare: Harry and someone (preferably Snape or Draco) dance in the rain. A reviewer - I can't remember if it was on LJ or at OWL - asked about a scene showing Harry at the ball, dancing with Ginny, and wondered what would happen. This evening I was happily pondering a sequel to the splinch-swap (no hetsex this time, though, I swear, and no mpreg) and suddenly Harry at the Yule Ball popped into my head and would not get out. So here he is. Apologies - it's un-beta'd.Oh, and the prequel is Dance Lesson.
Title: The Yule Ball
Pairing: None yet, Harry/Draco if you're Sibyl Trelawney
Rating: PG
Genre: pure fluff and cliché
Archived: nowhere yet. I'll go over it in the morning and put it into the vQ at OWL.
One last note: if you see misspelled words or glaring errors, feel free to point them out. I'm terrible at editing my own work.
“—why you couldn’t meet me in the Entrance Hall. We could have made a stunning entrance to the Ball, and everyone would be talking about us instead of—”
Harry let Ginny’s words flow in one ear and out the other. He’d learned over the years that it was easier to let the Weasley temper vent than to argue; it would only prolong his misery if he protested. He considered making the appropriate conciliatory noises, which he knew would pacify Ginny, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He was still annoyed at her, at himself, at the situation. Ginny should be happy I’m willing to attend the Yule Ball with her and stop harping on such stupid, petty details, he thought.
He distracted himself by watching the opening dance being performed by the Head Boy and Head Girl, along with the Headmistress and Deputy Headmaster. McGonagall and Snape looked dignified, and smiled pleasantly at each other as they glided across the floor. The Head Boy and Head Girl, a Gryffindor and a Slytherin, respectively, had eyed each other warily before taking to the floor. To everyone’s surprise, once the initial awkwardness had passed, they appeared to enjoy each other’s company.
When the song ended, the couples bowed to each other and parted ways. By the time the music started anew, Snape and McGonagall had returned to the Head Table, while the two students had turned to their dates and begun dancing again. Slowly other couples trickled out onto the dance floor.
Ron, who was sitting on the other side of Ginny, stood and extended a hand to Hermione with a flourish.
“Shall we, my lady?” he asked with a foolish grin.
Assenting, Hermione took his hand and rose, and they joined the dancers circling the Great Hall.
“Well, are you going to ask me to dance or are we going to sit here all night?”
Subduing a flare of resentment, Harry responded to Ginny’s prompt.
The music was simple, the rhythm similar to the one Draco had hummed during his dance lesson a few weeks ago, so Harry thought that he should be able to handle a simple, straightforward dance. Hand on waist, other hand in hand, a step forward – right onto Ginny’s foot. On his second try, this time looking where he stepped rather than making eye contact with Ginny, he managed to avoid her feet. Once they had started, Harry steered them with relative ease, if little grace, and they navigated the room in fits and starts.
It was a relief to Harry when the song drew to a close. He led Ginny back to their table, and then he departed in search of refreshments for them and for Ron and Hermione.
At the punchbowl, he debated between the punch and the champagne, and finally chose the latter. He was balancing four flutes of the sparkling stuff in both hands when he felt a presence at his shoulder.
“Need a hand with those?”
Draco. He’d been a bit distant with Harry the last few weeks. In fact, this was the first time in days that Harry had seen him outside of staff meetings or meal times.
“Sure – bring one for your date, too.”
A brief frown wrinkled Draco’s brow before he responded, “I’m here stag tonight, Golden Boy. I wouldn’t want to break any hearts.”
“Prat! Your ego knows no bounds!” Harry teased.
Draco responded with a playful sneer. “The Malfoy mystique is legendary. You only wish you had such appeal, such debonair grace, such—”
“Such a swelled head! Come on, take one of these before I drop them. We’re over here.” With a nod in the direction of their table, Harry headed back through the crowd of revelers.
Draco’s presence at the table was not greeted with enthusiasm. Hermione hadn’t quite forgiven him for the incident at the last Hogsmeade weekend, and her coolness was all the excuse Ron needed to needle the ex-Slytherin about everything from the loss of the Malfoy fortune (Ministry war reparations funds) to his lack of a lady-friend. Ginny sat silently, casting hostile looks at the blond. Harry tried to cover the awkward silences, but conversation quickly stalled. Finally, Draco stood and made his excuses, disappearing back into the crowd despite Harry’s protests that he stay.
“Hermione, I think they’re playing our song.” Ron took the easiest out, avoiding the storm of temper he could see brewing on the horizon.
Several long moments of quiet passed while Ginny just looked at Harry resentfully. His face was blank, utterly empty, while he battled back his anger and assumed a mask of polite indifference.
“Shall we join them?” He rose and extended his arm. Surprised, Ginny accepted his invitation.
Harry’s calm and control, however, deserted him on the dance floor. Rather than picking up where they’d ended their last dance, he could not find the right steps. Each time he and Ginny tried, they were offbeat from the music or going the opposite direction, and Harry could tell that Ginny was becoming extremely annoyed. Thankfully they’d stuck to the edge of the dance floor, so there were few witness to their clumsy efforts; one of those few was Draco, who was leaning casually against the wall by the punchbowl, watching them with a lazy smile.
The final straw came when Harry stepped on Ginny's toes, tripping forward. In an effort to catch himself, he shifted his weight, and his other foot caught on the trailing hem of her dress robes, ripping the hem irreparably.
“Merlin, it’s a good thing you’re so graceful in the air – you can barely manage to walk straight on the ground! Can’t you do anything right tonight? Haven’t you ever-”
Ginny’s harangue went on and on, growing louder and louder; with each syllable the number of people watching them grew larger, and Harry grew more embarrassed and more irate. Finally he couldn’t control himself any longer.
“Why did you want to come with me tonight if I can’t do anything right? If I remember correctly I didn’t invite you, you just ASSUMED you’d come as my date. If you don’t like my behavior or my manners or the way I dance, you didn’t have to impose yourself on me like that!”
“Oh, like you’d have invited anyone else! Who'd have you? If not for your name, no one would want you – you’re inept at everything when it comes to women, from dancing to kissing.”
Since he’d been sixteen the last time they’d kissed, Harry thought that was a low blow. He was about to respond when Draco butted in.
“I can’t speak for the kissing, but I can assure you that Potter here is an excellent dancer, Weasley… with the proper partner.”
“As if! He’s never danced with anyone but me or Parvati, and we all know how well that went!” Ginny retorted. Her tone was possessive, as if she had witnessed and chronicled all of the events of Harry’s life, implying that if she hadn’t known about it, it wasn’t possible.
Draco simply lifted an imperious eyebrow and extended a hand to Harry. Without thought to what he was doing or the consequences, Harry accepted it. The pair moved to the center of the dance floor.
“Do you want me to lead, still?”
“If that’s what you want.”
So Harry put his hand on Draco’s waist and wove the fingers of his other hand through Draco’s, then looked him in the eye. After counting one measure of the music, he found his rhythm and steered Draco into the sea of now still spectators. The crowd of students and professors that had been covertly listening to his and Ginny’s argument gaped in amazement at the sight of the two men, once bitter enemies, now dancing.
Vaguely, Harry could hear a shriek of outrage from Ginny’s direction; it was followed by a stream of cursing that would have prompted Molly Weasley to wash her daughter’s mouth with soap. He paid it no mind.
When the music stopped, Harry and Draco paused. As at the end of their last dance, Harry’s gaze was fixed on Draco’s, and he was drowning in rainwater eyes. However, this time, instead of stepping out of the embrace, he nodded acceptance, and the grey eyes glinted for a moment with something that looked like relief.
“Thank you.”
With that he stepped back, letting his arms fall to his sides. Draco melted into the crowd, and Harry turned to face the music.
