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ayane_tsurugi) wrote2009-07-18 02:54 pm
ayane_tsurugi) wrote2009-07-18 02:54 pm
Entry tags:
Impulsive (Draco/Hermione, PG)
Title: Impulsive
Author:ayane_tsurugi
Rating: PG
Pairing: Draco/Hermione
Word Count: 499
Disclaimer: The characters contained herein are the property of J.K. Rowling, who is definitely not me. I make no money from my efforts here; I’m just playing around.
Warnings: None.
Summary: "I'm rash and impulsive. It's a flaw." - Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Author’s Notes: Written for Challenge 5 at the Dramione LDWS competition on LJ.
She sat on a wooden bench in the middle of Diagon Alley, the sun beating down on the top of her head. She couldn’t bring herself to look around, though the renovations had begun and the ravages of war were no longer so obvious, so she focused on Malfoy’s wand, resting in her hands.
Harry, still lost in the tidal wave of publicity that came along with destroying the darkest wizard the world had ever known, had asked her to come. Even though he had testified for the Malfoys, kept them from cells in Azkaban, Harry had believed that seeing him holding his most important possession was the last thing Malfoy would want.
And so Hermione had agreed, unsure just how seeing her would be an upgrade but unwilling to argue the point.
Holding Malfoy’s wand felt strange to her; wrong. Of course, it was longer than hers, and definitely a different texture. It was more coarse, almost grainy. But it was more than its physical attributes; holding it like she would her own, her insides squirmed, as though her magic protested. Shaking her head slightly, she looked down the cobblestone street again, and this time she saw him, a blond head and an indifferent expression headed straight for her.
She’d prepared herself for the worst. After all, this was still Malfoy, whatever side of the war he ended up on. She expected him to scowl and walk away, or to question her about her presence there instead of Harry’s, or even to insult her. But he didn’t.
Instead, standing in front of her with his wand finally back in his hand, he took a long, relieved breath and there was a small smile on his lips when he looked at her that surprised her. “Thank you, Granger.” The smile shrunk until it was almost imperceptible. “It’s difficult, being without it. Having to rely on other people for the magic.”
He sat down next to her, and she stared at him, confused. After a moment, though, she nodded. No matter how close she, Harry, and Ron were, she knew how difficult it was to have to rely on someone else for things you think you should be able to accomplish yourself. He nodded back, twisting the wand in his hands, then met her eyes. “Let me buy you lunch.”
She twisted to face him. “Why?”
But he just shook his head and shrugged. “No idea. I’m being rash, impulsive, and possibly stupid, but it’s in a way that’s not going to get me killed for once, so I’m trying to just go with it and not think too much.” He looked back down at the wand in his hand. “Maybe if I do enough things that I never would have before, I can give myself a different life.”
She stood up and, making an impulsive decision of her own, offered him her hand. He hesitantly shook it and she used it to pull him up. “Do you like Chinese?”
Author:
ayane_tsurugiRating: PG
Pairing: Draco/Hermione
Word Count: 499
Disclaimer: The characters contained herein are the property of J.K. Rowling, who is definitely not me. I make no money from my efforts here; I’m just playing around.
Warnings: None.
Summary: "I'm rash and impulsive. It's a flaw." - Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Author’s Notes: Written for Challenge 5 at the Dramione LDWS competition on LJ.
She sat on a wooden bench in the middle of Diagon Alley, the sun beating down on the top of her head. She couldn’t bring herself to look around, though the renovations had begun and the ravages of war were no longer so obvious, so she focused on Malfoy’s wand, resting in her hands.
Harry, still lost in the tidal wave of publicity that came along with destroying the darkest wizard the world had ever known, had asked her to come. Even though he had testified for the Malfoys, kept them from cells in Azkaban, Harry had believed that seeing him holding his most important possession was the last thing Malfoy would want.
And so Hermione had agreed, unsure just how seeing her would be an upgrade but unwilling to argue the point.
Holding Malfoy’s wand felt strange to her; wrong. Of course, it was longer than hers, and definitely a different texture. It was more coarse, almost grainy. But it was more than its physical attributes; holding it like she would her own, her insides squirmed, as though her magic protested. Shaking her head slightly, she looked down the cobblestone street again, and this time she saw him, a blond head and an indifferent expression headed straight for her.
She’d prepared herself for the worst. After all, this was still Malfoy, whatever side of the war he ended up on. She expected him to scowl and walk away, or to question her about her presence there instead of Harry’s, or even to insult her. But he didn’t.
Instead, standing in front of her with his wand finally back in his hand, he took a long, relieved breath and there was a small smile on his lips when he looked at her that surprised her. “Thank you, Granger.” The smile shrunk until it was almost imperceptible. “It’s difficult, being without it. Having to rely on other people for the magic.”
He sat down next to her, and she stared at him, confused. After a moment, though, she nodded. No matter how close she, Harry, and Ron were, she knew how difficult it was to have to rely on someone else for things you think you should be able to accomplish yourself. He nodded back, twisting the wand in his hands, then met her eyes. “Let me buy you lunch.”
She twisted to face him. “Why?”
But he just shook his head and shrugged. “No idea. I’m being rash, impulsive, and possibly stupid, but it’s in a way that’s not going to get me killed for once, so I’m trying to just go with it and not think too much.” He looked back down at the wand in his hand. “Maybe if I do enough things that I never would have before, I can give myself a different life.”
She stood up and, making an impulsive decision of her own, offered him her hand. He hesitantly shook it and she used it to pull him up. “Do you like Chinese?”