HP Drabbles by Prompt (all G/PG)
Hermione's mum and/or dad.
Here's a challenge for you. Alice Longbottom in St. Mungo's.
A brief encounter between Hot Black Desiato and Voldemort.
If you're in the mood for stories, could you tell me something about Rufus Scrimgeour's schooldays?
Something about Minerva (Dueling Club with her opponent Tom Riddle)
A younger Tom Riddle with his first pet snake.
Olivia Granger started at the sound of flapping wings in the kitchen. Even after all this time, she’d not gotten used to owl post, though Hermione sent her parents many letters.
She took the attached letter, read it, and smiled. “Philip? Philip, darling, come here. We’ve good news from Hermione.”
Her husband, entered the kitchen, newspaper in hand. “Let me see.” He took the parchment. “Oh, well done. These O.W.L.’s are like A levels, right?”
Olivia nodded proudly.
“Well done, indeed,” he said again, and then addressed the owl. “Hold on there, owl, and we’ll write something for you to return.”
Philip had always had an easier time with accepting Hermione’s lifestyle, Olivia thought as she rummaged for paper and pen. She sat down at the table to begin their response letter.
“We ought to plan something special,” said Philip. “Maybe a trip over the holidays.”
There was a pause, as Olivia’s eyes met her husband's. They both knew that Hermione was spending more and more time away from home, even over the holidays. She wasn’t here now, after all.
Philip sighed. “We can try.”
“You’re right, dear, we can try.”
Morning at St. Mungo's
Sunlight.
(It's called sunlight. Not rain. Not snow.)
Alice doesn't know where she is. She never knows where she is.
She reaches out and he is with her.
(Frank)
It isn't as scary
when the screams come, when it is dark
(Night? Noon? Tea?)
she climbs into his bed, or he into hers, and they hold each other as they did when they were
(lovers married parents Aurors)
The screams stop for a while.
(Neville, I'm Alice, where's my baby?, Frank, danger, Neville)
And then they begin again.
A brief encounter between Hot Black Desiato and Voldemort.
Even all-powerful Dark Lords liked to get away from it all sometimes.
The restaurant at the end of the universe was just the place to do it. He enjoyed the milieu, Muggles excepted, of course, but there were few enough of those. His appearance drew little notice, which, whilst he loved his hard bought new form, was rather nice for a change.
He’d just spoken with the Meal of the Day to order his dinner when an unholy ruckus erupted from somewhere on the other side of restaurant. It sounded like a herd of elephants amongst a barn cat orgy.
Hushed, excited murmurings zipped through the crowd.
“Hot Black Desiato, here in person!”
“-Loudest band ever, what a night!”
“Do you think they’ll play?”
“I can’t believe they’re here!”
There was a blinding flash of green and all was quiet. Voldemort wasn’t about to let his meal be disturbed by such riff raff. Bloody Muggle musicians.
If you're in the mood for stories, could you tell me something about Rufus Scrimgeour's schooldays?
“Come in, Rufus, come in,” said Professor Flitwick, as he opened his office door. “Find a seat, why don’t you?”
Rufus Scrimgeour, tall, serious, and quite striking even at age fifteen, stepped through the doorway, ducking as he did to avoid hitting his head. Flitwick’s office was made to scale. “Thank you, sir,” he said, settling into the normal-sized chair by the desk.
“Well, let’s see here,” said Flitwick, rifling through the papers on his desk. “Ah, here we are. I was quite pleased to see your O.W.L. results, but I’d expect nothing less from one of our house. You’ve five Outstandings and three Exceeds Expectations. With scores like these, you can do whatever you wish, my boy. What have you thought about pursuing?”
His leonine eyes glowed with fervor. “I want to be an Auror, sir.”
Something about Minerva (Dueling Club)
Her breath completely knocked out of her, Minerva lay on the duleing platform. What the bloody hell had just happened?
She'd planned on disarming the newest member of the Dueling Club easily using a standard Expelliarmus spell and Mild Stunning hex. Instead, the fourth year had done the unthinkable - he'd beaten her to the draw. She'd had an undefeated record for two years, since the beginning of her fifth year.
Her opponent appeared looming over her. For a fourth year, he was quite tall already. He reached down a hand to help her up.
"All right, McGonagall?" said Tom Riddle, as polite as could be.
She accepted his help even though her pride was stung more than anything. "Yes, I'm just fine."
He smiled, ducking his head. He was the very picture of polite, good sportsmanship. "I'm glad to hear. Must've been beginner's luck."
"Good show, Riddle," she said. "Glad to have you on the team." Her lips were pressed firmly into a straight line as she took a seat and watched the rest of the practice. It was just losing that made her feel odd; there was something about him that gave her the shivers despite his handsome good looks and impeccable manners.
Tom bested each and every opponent and made it look as easy as breathing to do so. Minerva watched and made note of his technique, something she'd be glad she did many, many years in the future.
A younger Tom Riddle with his first pet snake.
Tom had been saving pocket money earned from tutoring for two years. Even at age fourteen he wasn't brash enough to try the Imperius curse on a shopkeeper and in Tom's twisted mind, stealing was something to not even be considered. That was something a filthy Muggle would do.
One must keep a low profile, after all, if one had plans like Tom did.
The hours of guiding cretins through the steps of basic, boring magic had paid off. His Head of House had needed to make a shopping trip and had asked Tom if he'd like to come along. He was alone in the Slytherin dormitories this Christmas, which was more than fine with him, after all, and even a woman like Solange Olivier had to take pity on him and offer this special treat.
He stood before a cage in a Muggle pet shop gaily decorated for the holidays. He'd exchanged his hard earned knuts and sickles for shillings at Gringotts not an hour before. He regretted having to come here, but no shops in the Wizarding world traded in snakes.
He had picked this one out especially. She wasn't poisonous, but she had the nicest voice of all the others, sounding intelligent and eager to escape her prison. Tom knew how she felt.
The shopkeeper gingerly placed the snake in a box for him to take back to Hogwarts. As he left the store, he smiled a rare, genuinely pleased smile. No one he cared about would see, and he had his own snake now, someone he could talk to. Someone who wouldn't care about his blood or his lack of money. It was the finest Christmas he'd ever known.