Drabble night!
Aug. 16th, 2004 09:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rynneI came in late, so I only got to do four drabbles, and the ending of the last one sucks, but here they are. I rather like them, mostly. Yay for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
queerditch_pub and everyone there, who were so fun! Theme tonight was celebrations. All a collective G/PG, I think.
“It’s like Harry Potter Day again,” Neville said. “Only not.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Thank you, Neville,” he said sarcastically. “I would have totally forgotten if you hadn’t reminded me. And it’s not Harry Potter Day, thank you very much. If anything, it’s Harry-and-Neville Day.”
Neville grinned. “I said it wasn’t Harry Potter Day,” he said complacently. “Don’t need to get all worked up about it.”
Harry shook his head. “Do we even need a day commemorating his defeat? I think the best thing we could do is just forget about him.”
Neville suddenly looked solemn. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. If we just forgot…” He looked pensive. “If we just forgot, I think it’d be bad. And even celebrating this day, the day of his defeat, is something good. Celebrations are a good thing, and his defeat is a good thing, and so little associated with Voldemort is good.”
“…I’m associated with Voldemort,” Harry said quietly. “I always will be, no matter how long it’s been since we killed him. And since you killed him with me, you’re associated with him too, and you’re nothing but good.”
Neville smiled, and kissed Harry swiftly. “That’s why I said ‘so little’ rather than nothing. You’re nothing but good too, Harry.” He kissed him again, so sweet. “You’re just the same as me.”
*
“Well,” Remus said, a drink in one hand, and eyeing everyone else speculatively. “Isn’t this interesting.”
Harry laughed and slung an arm around his shoulders. Remus fought the urge to flinch—people didn’t often touch him like that, not so friendly—but Harry was apparently drunk, and wouldn’t have noticed anyway.
“He would have wanted it this way,” Harry said, almost too loudly. Well, Remus thought, isn’t this nice. Drunk people. I hate being around drunk people.
“Really?” Remus said, but wasn’t paying attention. Harry was far warmer than he should be. His cheek was pressed hotly against Remus’s now. Was he feverish as well as drunk?
Harry nodded solemnly. “Yep,” he said, slurring his words only slightly. “Dumbledore wouldn’t want us to sit around cryin’ for him, you know? He was…” Harry laughed suddenly. “He was mad, you know. And he’d want us to laugh.”
“You apparently have no problem,” Remus muttered. Harry’s eyes were unfocused, and apparently he hadn’t heard.
“No,” Harry continued, still in that slightly-too-loud voice, “he’d want us to laugh. So come on, Remus.” He seemed to have forgotten by now that he usually called Remus “Professor”. “Come on. Laugh!”
Remus didn’t know if he had ever felt less like laughing. Voldemort was still at large, Dumbledore was dead, and everyone at his wake was a drunken reveler. Except Remus. Who was apparently the only sane one left. And who started looking for the nearest wall to bash his head against and whimper.
But then. Somehow, Harry was right in front of him. Did Lily have eyes that green? Remus wondered suddenly, and couldn’t remember the answer. But did it matter, with Harry, so warm, possibly feverish, and definitely drunk, right in front of him and looking like he would—
—kiss him, and if Harry’s cheek was warm, his mouth was so much warmer, and he tasted like too much French wine, the kind of wine that Remus was too poor to afford and now could only taste secondhand but oh how good it was, how so very incredibly good…
Harry pulled back, and grinned hesitantly. Remus grinned too, and felt like laughing. Maybe he didn’t hate being around drunk people after all.
*
“…Aren’t presents supposed to be given on Christmas Day?” Remus said finally.
Sirius grinned, and did not retract his gift. “Doesn’t matter,” he said. “Christmas Eve, Christmas Day…they’ve both got Christmas in their names, don’t they? So what’s it matter?”
“Does this mean there should be a present for each of the twelve days of Christmas?” Remus replied dryly.
“Sure!” Sirius said affably. “Whatcha want, Moony? Should I get you a partridge in a pear tree?”
“Isn’t that supposed to be just for your true love?” Remus asked, feeling slightly odd. He hadn’t eaten anything funny at dinner, had he?
“I suppose,” Sirius said, sounding as if he didn’t care. “Want two turtle doves, then? Or maybe five golden rings?”
“Sirius, what would I do with five golden rings, or turtle doves, or anything else in that song?” Remus asked in exasperation, odd feeling momentarily subsided.
Sirius shrugged. “But isn’t that the point of the song? That it’s all so stupid and nothing can really be done with any of the gifts, they’re just to show love?”
Remus shook his head. “It’s too impractical,” he complained. “I couldn’t imagine that person’s true love wanting any of that, or loving the singer for giving them a menagerie!”
“It’s the thought that counts,” Sirius said. “A sort of, ‘I love you, look at all the things I’ll do for you!’ sort of thing.”
That odd feeling was definitely back now, and with a vengeance. Remus looked up at Sirius and didn’t know what to say.
“Five golden rings, then, Moony?” Sirius asked lightly. “Or would the partridge do for you?”
“Don’t forget the pear tree,” Remus said, almost breathlessly. How had he missed this? How had something like this passed him by, and he didn’t see it until now, that it was so blindingly obvious, just right in front of his face?
“Of course,” Sirius said. “One pear tree, coming right up.” The gift, which had been clutched in Sirius’s hand, now fell to the floor, forgotten.
And irony of ironies, Sirius really did taste like pear.
*
James was drunk.
“’M not drunk,” he slurred.
Yes, definitely drunk. And apparently about to down even more beer. Sirius grabbed the bottle out of his hand.
“’M not drunk,” James insisted, grabbing for the bottle and missing. “’M getting’ married tomorrow. Lily’d kill me if I was drunk. So ‘m not.”
“Whatever you say, James,” Remus said dryly. James tried once more to get the bottle, but then overbalanced and ended up bracing himself on Remus’s chest.
“You’re much smaller’n Lily,” James declared, trying to stand up straight again. “She’s got big knockers.” He giggled drunkenly, and Remus shared a horror-filled glance with Sirius.
“James, I’ve got no knockers at all,” Remus reminded him. “I’m not a woman, remember?”
“Righ’, righ’.” James flapped a hand. “Could’ve fooled me, what with how you an’ Sirius’re all over each other.” He glared, though it wasn’t much of one. He blinked and yawned. “Bloody poofs,” he muttered.
“Er,” Sirius said. “I’ll just put him in a bed somewhere, and be right back. You get rid of the beer.” He shoved the bottle in Remus’s hand, strode over to James, put an arm around his shoulders, and Disapparated them both.
Remus stared at the bottle in his hand, still a third full. And, not knowing what else to do with it, he drunk the rest of it down, and left the bottle where all the others were, piled on the counter of the kitchen in his and Sirius’s flat.
Sirius Apparated back into the room. “Pissed,” he announced, “and denying it even when he fell asleep on me. Lily can deal with him, I’m not going to. Silly sod,” he added affectionately.
“Right,” Remus said, glancing at the pile of bottles. “At least four of those are his, you know. And he says he’s not drunk.” He snorted lightly.
“There goes his stag night,” Sirius said, and snickered. Remus grinned.
“Good thing we won’t need one,” Remus commented.
“More trouble than they’re worth,” Sirius agreed.
Remus raised an eyebrow. “Bed?” he suggested.
“Definitely,” Sirius said, and they shut the door behind them.
queerditch_pub and everyone there, who were so fun! Theme tonight was celebrations. All a collective G/PG, I think.“It’s like Harry Potter Day again,” Neville said. “Only not.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Thank you, Neville,” he said sarcastically. “I would have totally forgotten if you hadn’t reminded me. And it’s not Harry Potter Day, thank you very much. If anything, it’s Harry-and-Neville Day.”
Neville grinned. “I said it wasn’t Harry Potter Day,” he said complacently. “Don’t need to get all worked up about it.”
Harry shook his head. “Do we even need a day commemorating his defeat? I think the best thing we could do is just forget about him.”
Neville suddenly looked solemn. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. If we just forgot…” He looked pensive. “If we just forgot, I think it’d be bad. And even celebrating this day, the day of his defeat, is something good. Celebrations are a good thing, and his defeat is a good thing, and so little associated with Voldemort is good.”
“…I’m associated with Voldemort,” Harry said quietly. “I always will be, no matter how long it’s been since we killed him. And since you killed him with me, you’re associated with him too, and you’re nothing but good.”
Neville smiled, and kissed Harry swiftly. “That’s why I said ‘so little’ rather than nothing. You’re nothing but good too, Harry.” He kissed him again, so sweet. “You’re just the same as me.”
*
“Well,” Remus said, a drink in one hand, and eyeing everyone else speculatively. “Isn’t this interesting.”
Harry laughed and slung an arm around his shoulders. Remus fought the urge to flinch—people didn’t often touch him like that, not so friendly—but Harry was apparently drunk, and wouldn’t have noticed anyway.
“He would have wanted it this way,” Harry said, almost too loudly. Well, Remus thought, isn’t this nice. Drunk people. I hate being around drunk people.
“Really?” Remus said, but wasn’t paying attention. Harry was far warmer than he should be. His cheek was pressed hotly against Remus’s now. Was he feverish as well as drunk?
Harry nodded solemnly. “Yep,” he said, slurring his words only slightly. “Dumbledore wouldn’t want us to sit around cryin’ for him, you know? He was…” Harry laughed suddenly. “He was mad, you know. And he’d want us to laugh.”
“You apparently have no problem,” Remus muttered. Harry’s eyes were unfocused, and apparently he hadn’t heard.
“No,” Harry continued, still in that slightly-too-loud voice, “he’d want us to laugh. So come on, Remus.” He seemed to have forgotten by now that he usually called Remus “Professor”. “Come on. Laugh!”
Remus didn’t know if he had ever felt less like laughing. Voldemort was still at large, Dumbledore was dead, and everyone at his wake was a drunken reveler. Except Remus. Who was apparently the only sane one left. And who started looking for the nearest wall to bash his head against and whimper.
But then. Somehow, Harry was right in front of him. Did Lily have eyes that green? Remus wondered suddenly, and couldn’t remember the answer. But did it matter, with Harry, so warm, possibly feverish, and definitely drunk, right in front of him and looking like he would—
—kiss him, and if Harry’s cheek was warm, his mouth was so much warmer, and he tasted like too much French wine, the kind of wine that Remus was too poor to afford and now could only taste secondhand but oh how good it was, how so very incredibly good…
Harry pulled back, and grinned hesitantly. Remus grinned too, and felt like laughing. Maybe he didn’t hate being around drunk people after all.
*
“…Aren’t presents supposed to be given on Christmas Day?” Remus said finally.
Sirius grinned, and did not retract his gift. “Doesn’t matter,” he said. “Christmas Eve, Christmas Day…they’ve both got Christmas in their names, don’t they? So what’s it matter?”
“Does this mean there should be a present for each of the twelve days of Christmas?” Remus replied dryly.
“Sure!” Sirius said affably. “Whatcha want, Moony? Should I get you a partridge in a pear tree?”
“Isn’t that supposed to be just for your true love?” Remus asked, feeling slightly odd. He hadn’t eaten anything funny at dinner, had he?
“I suppose,” Sirius said, sounding as if he didn’t care. “Want two turtle doves, then? Or maybe five golden rings?”
“Sirius, what would I do with five golden rings, or turtle doves, or anything else in that song?” Remus asked in exasperation, odd feeling momentarily subsided.
Sirius shrugged. “But isn’t that the point of the song? That it’s all so stupid and nothing can really be done with any of the gifts, they’re just to show love?”
Remus shook his head. “It’s too impractical,” he complained. “I couldn’t imagine that person’s true love wanting any of that, or loving the singer for giving them a menagerie!”
“It’s the thought that counts,” Sirius said. “A sort of, ‘I love you, look at all the things I’ll do for you!’ sort of thing.”
That odd feeling was definitely back now, and with a vengeance. Remus looked up at Sirius and didn’t know what to say.
“Five golden rings, then, Moony?” Sirius asked lightly. “Or would the partridge do for you?”
“Don’t forget the pear tree,” Remus said, almost breathlessly. How had he missed this? How had something like this passed him by, and he didn’t see it until now, that it was so blindingly obvious, just right in front of his face?
“Of course,” Sirius said. “One pear tree, coming right up.” The gift, which had been clutched in Sirius’s hand, now fell to the floor, forgotten.
And irony of ironies, Sirius really did taste like pear.
*
James was drunk.
“’M not drunk,” he slurred.
Yes, definitely drunk. And apparently about to down even more beer. Sirius grabbed the bottle out of his hand.
“’M not drunk,” James insisted, grabbing for the bottle and missing. “’M getting’ married tomorrow. Lily’d kill me if I was drunk. So ‘m not.”
“Whatever you say, James,” Remus said dryly. James tried once more to get the bottle, but then overbalanced and ended up bracing himself on Remus’s chest.
“You’re much smaller’n Lily,” James declared, trying to stand up straight again. “She’s got big knockers.” He giggled drunkenly, and Remus shared a horror-filled glance with Sirius.
“James, I’ve got no knockers at all,” Remus reminded him. “I’m not a woman, remember?”
“Righ’, righ’.” James flapped a hand. “Could’ve fooled me, what with how you an’ Sirius’re all over each other.” He glared, though it wasn’t much of one. He blinked and yawned. “Bloody poofs,” he muttered.
“Er,” Sirius said. “I’ll just put him in a bed somewhere, and be right back. You get rid of the beer.” He shoved the bottle in Remus’s hand, strode over to James, put an arm around his shoulders, and Disapparated them both.
Remus stared at the bottle in his hand, still a third full. And, not knowing what else to do with it, he drunk the rest of it down, and left the bottle where all the others were, piled on the counter of the kitchen in his and Sirius’s flat.
Sirius Apparated back into the room. “Pissed,” he announced, “and denying it even when he fell asleep on me. Lily can deal with him, I’m not going to. Silly sod,” he added affectionately.
“Right,” Remus said, glancing at the pile of bottles. “At least four of those are his, you know. And he says he’s not drunk.” He snorted lightly.
“There goes his stag night,” Sirius said, and snickered. Remus grinned.
“Good thing we won’t need one,” Remus commented.
“More trouble than they’re worth,” Sirius agreed.
Remus raised an eyebrow. “Bed?” he suggested.
“Definitely,” Sirius said, and they shut the door behind them.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2004-08-17 12:13 am (UTC)*grins and loves*
no subject
Date: 2004-08-17 12:58 pm (UTC)“James, I’ve got no knockers at all,” Remus reminded him. “I’m not a woman, remember?”
I love you.
no subject
Date: 2004-08-17 01:58 pm (UTC)<3<3<3!!!!!!
no subject
Date: 2004-08-17 04:07 pm (UTC)“There goes his stag night,” Sirius said, and snickered. Remus grinned.
“Good thing we won’t need one,” Remus commented.
“More trouble than they’re worth,” Sirius agreed.
Remus raised an eyebrow. “Bed?” he suggested.
“Definitely,” Sirius said, and they shut the door behind them.
Best exchange EVER.