Trying my hand at drabbles? (81)

Ron/Hermione—Macy’s Day Parade
“Hugo, come back!” Hermione shrieked. “Rose, sweetie, just hold your father’s hand. I know it is loud and scary, but everything will be fine.” She and Ron had taken the children to their first ever Macy’s Day Parade. They were on holiday in the United States this year, and she worried she would lose her kids in the crowd. They were so little, and the crowed was large, loud, and jostling. Ron saw her distress and hugged her with his free hand, smiling reassuringly. Hermione breathed in slowly as Ron winked, shouting loudly to the children, “Look, here comes Santa!”

Harry—Death and All His Friends
Harry looked around the cemetery. Voldemort stood in the circle of newly-summoned Death Eaters. Their faces were covered, the masks adding to the grim, foreboding feeling in Harry’s gut. He knew certain voices, but it provided little comfort; that night, their voices were eerie and sinister, magnified by the silence. The most frightening person there, however, was Voldemort, his voice chilling and his eyes slits like a snake’s. Looking in those eyes, Harry saw death, for him and for the freedom of the wizarding world. The graveyard setting fit, Harry realized. That night, he saw Death and all his friends.

Harry—Undone (The Sweater Song)
Harry groaned. It was Christmas, and he would watch Dudley get lots of expensive presents, while he would be lucky to get anything. However, when he opened his eyes, he wasn’t met by Petunia’s pursed face, but by a spattering of freckles and orange hair. Ron handed Harry a pile of presents. Harry was incredulous, but Ron did not notice, saying “You have to open that one first, though, it’s from Mum.” Harry opened it to find a handmade, emerald sweater. He felt loved, and tears formed in his eyes—how could such an ugly sweater make him come undone?

Neville—Brain Stew
It was the time of year that was the most painful for Neville. It was stressful for most people, but it was even worse for him. He shuffled through pages of poorly-organized notes, reading the same sentence again and again before getting frustrated and moving on. He did not have the natural magical ability of Harry or the sheer brilliance of Hermione. He did not even have help, like Ron did. He stared at the textbook, the words swimming around on the page. He knew he would forget it all, anyway. Exam time caused his brain to turn to stew.

Ginny—Hurricane
Ginny was in the corner of her dorm, hiding. She wanted to cry, to let out the tension she had been holding in, but the tears wouldn’t come. She knew her mess was self-imposed. She loved Harry, and always had. Yet, she found herself with guy after guy—Michael, and now Dean. She liked Dean. She tried so hard to fall in love with him, but each kiss told her he wasn’t the one. She longed for Harry’s bright green eyes and untidy black hair. She was a hurricane of emotion, and her relationship with Dean was about to shipwreck.

Minerva McGonagall—Fair
Minerva McGonagall was in her office. It had been a long day. The Weasley twins had set off a magical firework, catching a chair in the Gryffindor common room on fire. She had to meet with Harry, because he provoked Professor Umbridge yet again, despite the many warnings that arguing with her wouldn’t be prudent. She loved her Gryffindor students, as they were a bright, valiant lot, but they could be so irritating! She did not want to deduct points from her own house, but she did not have any other option. She had to be fair.

James Potter—Predictable
James stared from around the corner. He could not help it—Lilly Evans was gorgeous, and he had loved her as long as he could remember. However, she did not feel the same way about him, rejecting him time after time. He was determined not to give up, though Sirius always told him that she was not worth it. “Just stick with the Marauders, Prongs, because we won’t let you down,” he had always said. But for James, it was never enough.
Just then, Lilly turned around. “You can come out, Potter, I see you. You’re so predictable.” James sighed.

Ron—Soul Meets Body
Ron was late to potions class yet again. Professor Snape already hated him, and he knew that this offense would not go unnoticed. He rushed down the hallways, dodging fellow tardy students, being very careful to avoid trick steps and staircases that went nowhere at all. However, he never thought to avoid the ghosts—no one ever did. They went unnoticed, for the most part, unseen and unimportant. Ron turned the corner, going straight through Nearly Headless Nick. He got shivers down his spine. It was the kind of cold that could only be created when soul meets body.

Hermione—Gap
Ron had always been tall for his age, but lately, he had grown liked a weed. Hermione could not help but stare at his long, lanky limbs, comforting and familiar, yet somehow alien. He was still Ron, but he looked older, more mature. With the growth in height came a growth in affection that Hermione did not understand. As the time passed, she became more and more certain that she was in love with Ronald Weasley. She dearly longed to stretch up on her tippy toes, closing the huge height gap, and to kiss him for all it was worth.

Harry—She Loves You
Harry paced around Dumbledore’s empty office. He had dealt with the idea since first year, yet he still did not understand it. His mother giving up her own life, just to save him never made sense to him. He was a mere baby, while she was an adult witch, and important one at that. She knew nothing of the prophecy, nothing of his true value. Yet, she died for him. “Why?” he asked, thinking out loud. A familiar voice came from behind him, and he turned around. Fixing his piercing eyes on Harry, Dumbledore said, “Because, Harry. She loves you.”

George—One Last Time
George and his brother were inseparable. They did everything together; George plotted with Fred, joked around with Fred, and avoided studying with Fred. His brother was the stronger of the two, but together, they had always been invincible. No one could stop them, and nothing could hold them back. They had overcome all odds, having their own joke shop, discovering the Marauder’s Map, and leaving Hogwarts without their mum killing them.
But, the stronger one was not strong enough. George was distraught as he watched his brother die, his body frozen with grief as Fred’s heart beat one last time.

Hermione—Typical
Ron was snoring loudly, and Harry’s eyelids kept drifting shut. The parchment on their desks was blank and their ink bottles were unopened. Hermione took notes as Professor Binns rambled on. She knew how things would work. As soon as class ended, the pair would expect help from her. It was their responsibility to pay attention, but they would always manage to convince her otherwise. She sighed at the unfairness of it when class ended.
“Hermione, could I borrow your History of Magic notes?” Ron asked that night in the common room. “Typical,” Hermione muttered to herself, handing them over.

Ron—The Hospital Song
Being poisoned is never fun, but it was worse when you had just been drugged with a powerful love potion, and even better, it was your birthday. After such a traumatic day, it was natural that Ron might end up in the hospital wing. He listened to the uncomfortable silence, the emptiness that was only present in places of sickness and pain. It was the hospital’s song, more somber than the dying cries of the phoenix. Slipping away into an restless slumber, Ron did not realize that the silence would soon be broken by words mumbled by he himself—“Hermione…”

Harry—Only in Dreams
Harry is home for Christmas. The house in Godric’s Hollow is cheery, full of the Christmas spirit. He doesn’t complain when Lilly enlists him to help decorate the tree, and he eagerly helps James put wizarding lights around the outside of the house. Sirius and Remus come to visit on Christmas Eve—Peter would have come also, but he had to work. Harry is happy, warm, safe, and loved, but the edges of his consciousness protest. This cannot be true. Those people are all dead. Harry wakes, nostalgic for a past that never happened. “Only in dreams,” he says, sighing.

Neville—You Are the One
Neville was baffled. Harry told him the whole story (several times, in fact), but it still made no sense. How could he, of all people, be destined to defeat the Dark Lord? Everyone always thought it was Harry—smart, talented, and handsome. Neville and Harry were both at the Potter’s house the night that Voldemort attacked, but everyone thought it was Harry in Lilly’s arms. He was her son, after all. “No,” Harry said firmly, completely sure of his words. “Dumbledore and I agree. Everyone was wrong about it. It’s not me. You are the one. You always were.”

Astoria—Love Like Winter
Draco never used to be cold. Astoria knew this as a fact, admiring him from afar throughout the years at Hogwarts. He was a spoiled child, yes, but not cold. Not until he got involved in the work of Voldemort, that is. Astoria watched as he hardened, his task overwhelming him. His heart, which once was tender below the surface, froze over. It was twenty years later and sometimes, she still could not reach him, but she was patient. She would give the world for Draco. She would take his love like winter, and bring forth the shoots of spring.

Ron—I Have Seen the Future
Hermione stormed out of the room, and Ron wanted very badly to follow her. This class was a joke. He was stunned by the fact that Hermione, of all people, would snap at a teacher, but his current boredom outweighed the shock. He stared at his crystal ball, only seeing boring, white smoke. “I have seen the future!” he said sarcastically to Harry, who played along. “What did you see?” he asked, faking gravity. Ron was about to open his mouth when Trelawney walked by, gazing into Harry’s crystal ball. “Death!” she proclaimed, and Ron grinned. “She stole my line.”

Remus—Misery
Tonks’s hair was mousy brown, her features ordinary. Remus knew he was responsible, which tore him apart. He saw the way Tonks looked at him; it was clear she loved him, and he loved her dearly as well. However, he worried about condemning any future children to lycanthropy. He would never forgive himself for that. It was his love that made him to say no, his heart squeezing in pain, but his head telling him he was doing the right thing. He hoped her pain would help her realize he was wrong for her, but the thought brought him misery.

Harry—It’s for the Best
Harry looked at the parcel, the small, wrapped object immediately stuffed into the bottom of his luggage. Sirius gave it to him earlier that day at the train station, as a means of communication, but Harry knew that he could never bring himself to open it. He could not take the chance—Sirius was fond of risks, and with Umbridge the Ministry spy running Hogwarts, he could easily get caught. Harry slowly pulled it out from his now empty suitcase, fingering the rough, heavy paper before burying it once again. “It’s for the best,” he said quietly to himself.

Ron—Stubborn and Lonely Forever
Hermione had no right to be angry. So what if Ron was kissing Lavender? He could kiss whoever he wanted, and it was none of her business. But no, she had to sit there and criticize him for it, her harsh words emphasized by her piercing glare. She, the one who had invited Cormac McLaggen, of all people, to the Slug Club party, had the gall to complain? Ron fumed. It was all her fault. If she did not change her ways, and just get over herself, she would be stubborn and lovely forever. Ron was sure of this fact.

Hugo Weasley—She Hates Me
“How do you like school?” Hermione asked. Hugo was home on his first ever break from Hogwarts, but to everyone’s surprise, he seemed in no rush to go back. He liked school, sure. He had friends already, and he was learning so much. Hogwarts was a challenge, and everything from the castle itself to the magic it contained was exciting to the young wizard. However, not everything was perfect. “Well,” he started, “I like it. However, the teachers are so much harder on me, Mum! Professor McGonagall is old and crabby. I think she hates me.” Hermione bit back laughter.

Hermione—Without You
Hermione knew it would happen before anyone else did, even Ron himself. She saw it in the moping curve of his shoulders, in the furrowing of his brow. He was nearing his breaking point, and it was all that stupid locket’s fault. She watched as his inferiority complex reared its ugly head, and she cursed his being the youngest son. How dearly she wanted to rip that chain away from around his neck, to steal the thing encouraging his insecurities, and to take it upon herself. “Don’t leave, Ron,” she pleaded. “Without you, we cannot do this. We need you.”

Luna—I Feel Fine
Luna thought about her day, slightly overwhelmed, but satisfied. She had survived her first day at Hogwarts, even managing to make a friend! That nice girl, Ginny Weasley, defended Luna when the older kids laughed at her favorite pair of beet earrings. Luna still did not understand why they found her earrings so funny—the people here were so strange! She even enjoyed the sorting, and she could not be happier sitting at the Ravenclaw table. She thought for a second before finally replying to the Ravenclaw boy sitting across the table. “I feel fine,” she said with a smile.

Lilly—Frozen Oceans
Lilly watched Severus from across the lake. It was a beautiful day, but there was a chill in her bones that even the sun could not drive away. He was her friend before, but he had become so much more to her. But then, he smashed the happiness he alone had fostered, all to impress those blasted Slytherins. She saw how he hung back from the crowd, a haughty sneer plastered to his face. He did not belong, and only the lake stopped her from reaching across to hug him. In his eyes, though, she saw. Frozen oceans separated them.

Albus Severus Potter—Photograph
Albus stared at the familiar, worn photograph. He had seen it hundreds of times, displayed on the mantel in the living room. Thousands of times he had asked his father what it was of, but all Harry would ever say was, “It was an old group of friends.” Albus had heard stories of his grandfather and his friends, the infamous Marauders, and he was able to figure out many people there, though not all. He easily spotted James and Lilly, his grandparents, young and happy, clearly in love. He picked out Sirius, James’s partner in crime, with his shaggy, dark hair, and the broadest grin Al had ever seen. He found Remus, whose shy, intelligent smile seemed lively but subdued, contrasting the open grins of his two friends. Lastly, he spotted Peter, a fidgety smile placed on his face. They were an old group of friends, but so much more.

Hermione—King for a Day
Hermione watched Ron fly around the pitch to the sound of “Weasley is Our King.” She ordinarily would have been impressed by his performance at this match, since he had not let a single goal be scored, grabbing the quaffle out of midair. However, she knew that Harry had spiked Ron’s pumpkin juice with Felix that morning, and it was partly responsible for the incredible saves. However, Hermione would feel bad for spoiling it for Ron. She knew that it was wrong, and that he was cheating, but she just wanted to let him be king for a day.

Bill Weasley—The Artist
Bill watched his wife, who was caught up in the heat of the battle. Her movements were fluid as she flung spells across the room. She looked like a dancer, beautiful and graceful; however, the fire in her eyes showed that she was deadly and capable. She dodged an incoming hex from a nearby Death Eater, her movements quick and lithe. Even as friends fell around him, Bill could not help but feel lucky. His wife was an artist, painting lasting images of true love that would be stored in his memory for the rest of his long, long life.

Dumbledore—One Week
One Week. It had been seven days since the end. Seven days had passed since the conflict which had consumed the wizarding world had ceased to exist. Seven days ago, Harry Potter became a hero.
Seven days ago, the world had become right again, or so the Daily Prophet proclaimed.
Everyone wanted to believe that it ended that morning, that a small baby and a killing curse gone wrong had toppled one of the greatest but most terrible wizards ever known. Dumbledore knew better than that, though. The Dark Lord was biding his time. Dumbledore knew he would rise again.

Bellatrix—Scream, Scream, Scream
Bellatrix laughed mercilessly, though it could barely be heard over the screams of agony. This was what she loved most; the couple writhed in pain on the cold, stone ground, victims to Bella’s best friend and oldest companion. She knew pain. She had been trained to understand it, to withstand it, to harness it, and to inflict it on others since she was a little girl. Some called her mad, but the Dark Lord understood. She made her feel useful, wanted in a way she had never had been before in her life. She looked at Alice Longbottom, curled up into a ball, and Frank, her husband, right next to her. They were enemies of her master, and they deserved to die. They were stronger than most, but even they could not remain silent in the clutches of the Cruciatus Curse. “Scream,” Bellatrix said, sounding maniacal. “Scream, Scream, Scream.”

Vernon Dursley—Life and Death after Taxes
Vernon Dursley stared at the tax form, scowling. He hated tax season—not only was he forking over his money, which he had rightfully earned, but he had to fill out those stupid, complicated tax forms. To make matters worse, he and his family had just finished paying for the massive property damage that had occurred the previous summer, so he wanted to part with his money less than he usually did. It was all that stupid Potter boy’s fault. Vernon’s face turned purple with rage just thinking about his thin, smug face, with those cursed green eyes brimming with laughter. Laughter! The fireplace had been destroyed, and debris still littered the floor, little fragments of brick that even the most powerful vacuums could not evict. If Potter was still alive, Vernon would kill him personally. Looking down at the tax form, though, he sighed. Life and death after taxes.

Ginny Weasley—An Interlude
Ginny squinted, searching for the small, golden blur. Her senses on overdrive. She felt a wind on her face as a bludger whizzed by. She watched the other seeker, looking for the flash across his face that showed that he had seen the snitch. She heard the cheering crowds; Gryffindor scored yet again. Ginny loved Quidditch as only the youngest sibling in a such a large family could. Anyone could love the game, the rush of adrenaline caused by the fast-paced, constantly-shifting game. Very few, however, understood Ginny’s need for Quidditch. She had been stealing her brothers’ brooms for as long as she could remember, practicing and training when they were not around. For her, Quidditch was not a game. It was a chance to prove that she was valuable, important. It was an interlude in her life of being just somebody’s little sister. On her broom, she was special.

Peter Pettigrew—Cemeteries of London
There were lots of cemeteries in England. There were the mass graves, holes in the ground rather than sacred celebrations of the victims. There were cemeteries containing the bodies of wealthy people decomposing beneath the soil, but the marble headstones showing that even in death, the rich can showcase their bank accounts. Graveyards hadn’t scared Peter before, when his friends were with them. Even that time fourth year, when they knocked over gravestones, and all the ghosts were chasing them, he wasn’t worried. He couldn’t be properly terrified with James on one side, Sirius on the other, and Remus bringing up the rear, chastising them for being stupid. That buffer for his fears no longer existed, shattered by his betrayal of James. He realized he did deserve to be there, staring at the grave of his best friend. It was all his fault, but there was no going back now.

Fred and George—A Million Ways
In the secret passage leading to the cellar of Huneydukes, they plotted their greatest prank to date. They always had their best ideas there, alone, where the rest of the school could never find them. They knew what they wanted to achieve, but they were having issues with the details.
“How on earth are we going to do this without getting caught? We don’t have a way that Filch won’t figure out,” George said, a bit frustrated. Fred looked at George, incredulous. “Are you kidding me? There are a million ways. We just have to pick the best one.”

Hermione—All the Time
Hermione absently fingered the golden chain around her neck. The time turner was a blessing and a curse. It provided a way for her to take all of the classes she wanted to, which was nice. She loved her classes, and she learned so much! However, she was overwhelmed by the work created by these classes, and sleep was becoming a foreign concept to her, since she couldn’t use the time turner for anything but getting to class. It was frustrating; she had all the time in the world, but she couldn’t use it when she needed it the most.

Harry—Daylight
The sun rose, and the day began. In the daylight, the world seemed peaceful, and Harry almost managed to convince himself that he would have a nice, normal summer. He had avoided Dudley, and spent a lot of time watching the news. It seemed nothing drastic had happened yet, or at least, not to the best of his knowledge. The reassuring light from the sun warmed his faced and his thoughts, an optimism blooming within his heart. The cold night of the dementors, though, quashed this hope. Harry realized he’d been silly. With Voldemort back, nothing could ever be normal.

Neville—Paralyzed
Neville could not move. He was not paralyzed by fear or shock. He physically could not move. He thought he did the right thing, trying to stop the trio of first year Gryffindors. He thought he was doing something right for once, standing up to his friends to help the house. However, Hermione did not seem to agree, and one “petrificus totalus” later, he was on the floor, unable to do a thing. He hated being weak and useless, but he was resigned to his fate. As Harry stepped over him, he knew he was destined to be a doormat.

The Marauders—Unintended
The four of them were all in the cbox, even late into the hours of the night. One AM, to be precise, though the time was different in Australia. Prongs was away, working on that stupid penguin project of hers, while Moony and Padfoot were discussing slash, treading carefully on the subject, so as not to scar Wormtail for life. Moony was quote vomiting, a frequent habit of hers, and she posted the link of the fanfic for Padfoot. Wormtail, completely oblivious, had been flipping from window to window, not really paying attention to the conversation so as not to see anything she should not. This obliviousness caused problems, however, as she clicked on the link, and was promptly scarred for life.
This unintended life lesson taught her much. However, the most important lesson of all was that Moony and Padfoot were twisted, and to always double-check before clicking links.

Tsuki—Evaporated
Tsuki had her Dr. Pepper. HER being the key word. As she sat in the metaphorical room that was the cbox, she protected her Dr. Pepper with great care, lest it fall into the hands of one of the other members of the site. Her muse had not come around quite yet, so she was relying on the soda to help her write. She was behind on her RP posting—she had to write posts for Cj and battle with Bri for Kat. However, Moony’s post came first. She got up, walking over to talk to Moony, making the huge mistake of leaving her soda unattended. She was tired, and it was an easy mistake to make. However, when she returned, all that remained was an empty bottle. “Who drank my soda?” she asked, and Moodz hid a grin, badly. “I don’t know, Tsuki! I guess it must have evaporated.”

Cj—The Sporting Life
Cj grumbled as she ran. She hated her stupid school, with its stupid rules. All the rules were stupid and pointless; however, this one was the absolute worst of all. She could deal with the stupid uniform code, limiting the amount of jewelry she wore, and all that other junk. She could not, however, deal with having to do sport for school. She did not like sport to begin with, but the fact that she HAD to do it, and that it was keeping her away from her friends on OOTP made it worse. “Stupid time zones,” she muttered to herself. Why couldn’t all of her internet friends just hurry up and move to Australia already, so that they did not miss her all the time? They never were on, because they had to go to bed before she even got home. “How I hate the sporting life,” she grumbled.

Ellie—Of Angels and Angles
Ellie loved OOTP. She enjoyed RPing, and OOTP encouraged her to write. She had written more in the last year than she had in her entire life, which was amazing. However, it was the people there that she loved best, who were crazy and random, yet intelligent. She could talk about anything with them that she was comfortable with herself, and sometimes, she could even venture into the things she was not comfortable with. She could talk about philosophical ideas, about characters—she could talk of angels and angels, and no one thought she was crazy. They even joined in with her, talking about the most irrelevant topics along with the most important. She had friends there, and they all loved her, despite what she perceived as her flaws. She was always too hard on herself, they all said, and they embraced her, perfect or not. She was their Moony.

Kat—Invincible
The internet was a lovely place, Kat mused to herself. It was a busy night. It could easily be classified as one of the nights that is kept in the memory of all those there, saved as sacred, random, and awesome. She had had a lot of those in the last few weeks, since she joined the site. MWL was dying, TA was dead, and OOTP was refreshing. It was a different group of people, with different plots, different characters, and a different setup. However, she still had that feeling of belonging, as she conversed with the group. They had entirely too much faith in her, sure, but they also claimed she had entirely too much faith in them, in fewer words. However, she had friends, and she had a chance to express herself. Kathryn was far from perfect, as a zombie ruler, but her friends made her feel invincible.

Tegan—Empty Apartment
Tegan sat in her house, staring at her homework. She’d much rather be online than staring at her boring business homework. She envisioned the life that would be, in her mind—sitting alone in an empty apartment, having to do boring work all day. No, she’d much rather live an exciting life. She smiled as she pictured her life with August, Gaspard, and Emily, if August gave her the okay. They would live on a lavender farm in France, where they would have none of that silly responsibility. They would have all that extra time for reading and the internet, and other unmentionable things (after all, making babies in the cbox was strictly prohibited). Tegan glared at her homework before deciding that it was not worth the effort. She put it down, deciding it was unimportant, and dreamed of her wondrous future instead. That was definitely more relevant for her.

August—Here It Goes Again
August finished her first character, and then her second. She was already in several RPs, and although she was at first confused with the way the RP worked here, she had figured out the gist of it by the time she begun the next set of characters. She moved at lightning speed, and as she finished up one character, she was already dreaming up another one. She wrote interesting characters, she wrote them well, and she wrote them quickly—the RP writer trifecta.
Meanwhile, she had time to talk, being her lovely self, in the cbox, where she had multiple affairs, a threesome, and caught Kat being a perv (Kat shouldn’t mention this, but she added it because it IS an accomplishment). She stared at the new, blank character form, excited about the possibilities that were before her. “Here it goes again,” she said cheerfully, as she began to write.

Twirlz—Blackout
The weather was bad, and Twirlz’s internet was fading. This made her a very angry bear, because she still had to write her post for Diana, and she had to stress her anger about her sorting. This was currently of the utmost importance.
She just recently joined OOTP, on hearing of SAS, and she decided that she liked the idea very much. There was too much to read about it, but the idea itself was lovely, and she had to get in on it, despite the fact that she rarely had time for the interwebz anymore. That was the reason she was most angry—she actually had the chance to come on, and the stupid weather was taking it away from her. It was not even supposed to snow in Texas! The weather had never been this crazy, and interfering with Twirlz’s internet was a cardinal sin. Stupid internet blackout.

The Characters—Save Our City
London was going to explode.
Scor and Vena were the first to hear, and when the message found Ellie and Cj, it began to spread like wildfire, the characters and their hosts frantic. None of the RPers lived in London, but they did not want Hogwarts to explode, as it was rather important, in the scheme of things, so they decided they needed to get their characters to help. Everyone was recruited, from Seth, Emalyn, and Santi to Noah and Samantha. Even the Salem Academy students were called in for help, and Blaire, Diana, and the rest of the gang hopped on a plane across the ocean to prevent the city’s demise. When they met Professor Longbottom, he explained the situation. “There’s a crazy guy with a weird haircut who wants to blow up Hogwarts because he claims Dumbledore stole his toad. We need your help to save our city.”

Moodz—Entertainment
Moodz logged on OOTP, entering the cbox. “SHABAM!” she shouted, as a means of entrance. Moodz always was a crazy one, loveable and loyal, but uniquely her. MCR was her source of entertainment, and she was working on another set of crazily good icons based on pictures of the band. She was always cheery and chipper, a source of happiness and trust. As she settled into the cbox, she looked around. “Music! I need music suggestions,” she said. “But no indie, please.” Kat and Ellie groaned, displeased by this common request, but obliged anyway, scouring their musical libraries for a solution to her request. Bands were liked, bands were rejected. When they all got bored of trying, they talked about books, and Moodz sighed. The online world was so much better than real life. Here, she had friends, music, books, and writing, and that was all a person could need.

Ren—Any Other World
Ren could not get on OOTP much. The only time she could really get on was when she was at the library, to her dismay. In any other world, in any other place, she did not have access to the site, to the world beyond her own. She was stuck rooted firmly in reality, without any hope of getting away. OOTP was full of crazy, colorful people, bright and interesting. She actually knew Tsuki in real life, but the others she did not, and she very rarely got to see them. She was Lilly, or as Moony always said, she was precious Lilly-Flower. She almost gave up Harry Potter for Lent, until Tsuki convinced her to do otherwise—it was the only reason she visited OOTP this Lent at all. However, Kat does not really know her very well, sadly, and writing these is getting weird, so she now stops.

Kat, these are divine! I've heard you exclaim how bad of a writer you are so many times, and again I'm going to have to tell you that you're a horrible liar. <33

>.< You are entirely too kind, my dear. But thank you. *hugs*


These are more real life people ones. I think I'm hooked. At first, I was not going to post these, because they are a bit personal, but I realized that really, I have nothing to hide. Also, it's points for Ravenclaw.


Poison—SK
No one could deny she was intelligent. However, her personality was up for interpretation. Some thought she was wonderful, God’s gift to the world. I have always been of a different opinion, from the day I met her. While she had the others eating from the palm of her hand, I stayed back, carefully watching. She picked a friend, latching on like a parasite. She clung like a leech, draining each one of their free will, their individuality. Then, when she decided she had all she needed, with nothing more to be won, she withdrew, silent but deadly, like poison.

Stormy Weather—EK
“Crap,” I muttered to myself, banging my head against the sealed, metal door. It was my only way back into the empty school and out of the rain. We had been having stormy weather lately, and being completely oblivious, I wandered out into the rain. I had texted my carpool to ask where the car was parked, but I was met by silence.
I walked around the parking lots, circling the school. She was in none of the usual spots. Why couldn’t I find the stupid car? I sighed, resigned to standing, lost and forlorn, out in the rain, when a familiar silver car rolled up.
“Hey, you need a ride around the parking lot?” Em asked, rolling down the windows. She saw the uncertainty on my face, and she opened the passenger side door. “Hop in,” she said, rolling her eyes at my stubbornness, a smile on her face.

Either Way—Ben
I sighed, completely and totally exasperated. We’d been debating over the same things for months on end, neither of us managing to convince the other of anything. It was like we were stuck playing remixes of the same song, over and over—well, it would be, if Ben liked music. We made up the script as we went along, but the main points never changed, only morphing to accommodate the new ideas along the way. Either way, we both trudged on, refusing to admit the truths that we both wanted so dearly to be true, but did not quite believe.

3 A.M.—OOTPers
At night, time sped up, refusing to follow its usual tricking pace. I never used to stay up past 9:00, but as the year goes along, I find my hours getting more and more irregular. One is no longer concerning, though two is very late. However, three A.M. on a school night is a disaster zone. I always found it funny that my closest friends were the ones living furthest away, but I have uncovered this as truth. After all, I cannot picture myself staying up RPing and drabbling with a single one of my friends in the real world.

Ghost of You—Evey
You used to be lovely—smart, responsible, and everything I could possibly want in a friend. You used to have such high hopes—you wanted to change the world, to make a difference. Some called it naïve, but anyone who talked to you for more than five minutes knew that if anyone could do it, you could. Now, all that’s left is a ghost of you, fragments of the old, reliable person you used to be. Now, alcohol and drugs, making out with three people in one night—none are that big of a deal. I miss the old Evey.

Beautiful—Moodz, Ellie, and Tsuki
I have told you all time and time again, but you never seem to listen to me. You hold onto your stubborn, ridiculous belief that you are not beautiful. There may be fifty reasons, or just one, which you us to claim falsely that you are ugly, but we are our own worst critics, and we magnify our imperfections. I could easily use cheesy lines to tell you that it is really only your personality that counts, but that would be completely undervaluing the fact that you are much prettier than you give yourself credit for, both inside and out.

Holiday in My Head—School Friends
I’m at school, at lunch. I’m bored to death. I don’t want to be here. I want to be in my nice, warm bed, asleep. Instead, I have to listen to my friends drone on and on. They probably spend more time discussing their weddings and children than they do reality. The ironic thing is, not a single one of them has a boyfriend. Their chatter is inane, meaningless, and I want nothing to do with them, but it’s far too late. I’m one of them, whether I like it or not. I resort to blocking them out, drowning them out with more pleasant ideas, bringing books or notebooks to lunch. However, sometimes even that backfires. My drabble notebook is now apparently entirely composed of slash, my books all lemons, despite the fact that they don’t know what the terms actually mean. I need a holiday, even in my head.

Mistakes We Knew We Were Making—MWLers
We got on every day, eager to talk. We knew each other like the back of our hands, from fears and insecurities to proudest moments. We shared everything—in some cases, we shared more than any of us was comfortable with telling others. We promised we would never stop coming, that we would be friends until the end.
These were the mistakes we knew we were making. As each person faded, coming on less and less, it hurt more and more. The glory days made us so happy; however, it was this happiness which made the emptiness greater, more terrible.

NEW: February 25, 2 new



Laundry Girl--Sirius

Sirius Black was bored. It was late. His mates were asleep. He was not tired. In his desperation to do something, he noticed a pile of dirty clothing on the floor. Although he found laundry boring during the day, there was something attractive about illegally sneaking around at midnight, and the laundry gave him a destination. Sirius nicked James’s invisibility cloak and headed off. When he got to the laundry room, the light was on. Sirius reasoned that either another rule breaker or a professor was in that room. The image of McGoogles washing her dirty undergarments at midnight brought a wicked grin to his face. However, when he peeked into the room, (invisibly, of course) it was not McGonagall, but what appeared to be a female Ravenclaw. She was very attractive, although slightly younger, if Sirius had to hazard a guess. Perfect for a bit of late-night entertainment. The cloak went off and Sirius went in for the kill. Years from now, the girl would be long gone, and all that would remain would be the stories of Padfoot’s great conquest. The late-night bit of fun that put up a fight, but inevitably lost to Padfoot’s charm. Laundry Girl.

Night Watch – The Marauders
Four. Four Marauders, four members of the rag-tag pack formed when the four Marauders changed. One werewolf, the leader of the pack, recklessly following his instincts into trouble. He was wolf, wild and feral beyond the strength of mere humans in animal form. Three guards, working the night watch, ensuring that nothing went wrong. Three pack members, not there to protect the world from the wolf, but to protect the wolf from the world. By hurting others, he hurt himself. They protected the powerful predator so he was not ravaged by guilt when he woke the next morning, man again.

April 9, 2011 (11)

One of THOSE Nights—August
The world is falling apart (or at least my sanity is). The people I love are driving me mad. It is one of THOSE nights, when logic and anger dictate ripping someone's head off. Instead, I go to you. Your righteous indignance, your stone-faced refusal to let me hide things. A fellow expert at secrets, of focusing on others’ problems to avoid dealing with your own, I come to you, needing a lack of logic. I don't need pity. I need emotion. I need the anger I can't bring myself to reveal. You can burn bridges with brilliant, flaming words.

Chump—Jon
You don't know me. I don't know you. But I know greatness, intelligence, and kindness. I know acceptance, adaptability, and strength. I know you are loved. I know you cannot see why, and it breaks my heart. Have faith in yourself; you are not a chump. You are incredibly special.

Holiday—Cj
Cj began to pack. She hated packing. It was stupid, and she always tried to bring more books and notebooks than clothing. The worst part, though, was the knowledge that packing meant a holiday. Holidays were lovely, but they were leaving, saying goodbye to the internet, OOTP, and the Marauders.

Anthem of Our Dying Day—OOTP
We were a bubble of happiness, isolated from the bitter world. Life was hard, but we were safe. People say that nothing good lasts, and, in hindsight, they weren’t wrong. However, even now, invaded by reality, we cannot sing the anthem of our dying day. We have not yet perished.

Unchained—Diz
Tied down. Trapped in a small town in Delaware. Limited by rules and your own mental state, all you needed was to get away, to be unchained. Las Vegas, alcohol—whatever it took to be free. That is all you really ever wanted—to be able to live for yourself.

Gardening at Night—Ben
Ben loved night, finding it more mysterious yet more comforting than the harsh light of day. If he could, he would live only during night; gardening at night, listening to the rain. That was his secret; rain at night had a meaning so special that he never told a soul.

Right Where I Belong—Tumblr
Harry Potter. Beatles. Doctor Who. Supernatural. Nerds. Although it is not a concrete, physical, place, it is a utopia for those who cannot find the things in reality that they need most, like love and acceptance. Although it is prone to tumblebeast attacks, tumblr is home. It can be frustrating and superficial and addicting, but at heart, it is good and understanding and comforting. Escape is absolutely impossible, regardless of how desperately you want to leave it. It isn’t like facebook; once you experience it for yourself, you know it is right where you belong, and you cannot get away.

Spitting Venom—Sarah
The master of the sneak attack, Sarah never says things directly. It’s a matter of technicality, almost liability; after all, she can’t be blamed for the things she does not say directly. Her tone, however, screams of pure and utter loathing. Her false cheeriness is betrayed by the gleam in her eyes and the sharp twist in her mouth. The way she speaks reveals her desire to make the people of the world her pawns, obedient and doting. Although her words themselves may seem relatively harmless, she is spitting venom, dragging witless victims through the mud without a second thought.

Countdown—The Marauders
It is almost 1 AM. Sleep begins to set in, and the clock’s countdown steadily approaches the moment of departure. Surpasses it. Just another 15 minutes. It is a warm July night, and the cbox is full. There is no reason to leave when everyone else is there. “Guys, I have to go soon,” Kat says, knowing the reaction this will get. “NOO!” Tsuki shouts. “Every time you leave, fairies die,” Cj added wisely, while Ellie ignored them completely. “Hey Kat, did I tell you my latest career plans!” “No keep the Kat, Ellie,” Kat says, laughing. Kat sees her chance—she has to go now, or she shall never be able to leave. It is now or never, and, although she secretly wishes for never, practicality wins out. “Okay, gotta go, leaving now. Goodbye. *karfunklebeans*” and she is gone. “Bugger,” Ellie says. “Why does she always leave so quickly?”

Do What You Want--Kat (and Ellie?)
“What are you doing to yourself? What have I done to you?” She knows what she is doing is not the best course of action. She has that feeling in her gut which screams that this is a really stupid idea, but she knows that Ellie needs to hear this. She owes her that much. She has been keeping her suspicions inside, never quite shaping them into anything until now. Now she is sure. Now she must tell her. She is the informant, the speaker of uncomfortable truths; however, what to do with the secrets she has revealed, she cannot say. “Do what you want,” comes from her mouth. “Do what you want—tell her the truth, bottle it in, blame me.” All are justified. Kat cannot tell Ellie how to live her life, as much as she may throw it into shambles. It is the curse of a diplomat.

I Want to Hold Your Hand—Moni
Life isn’t fair to you. It’s a simple fact. You are a beautiful person with beautiful dreams, but nothing ever seems to go the way it should. Every time something good comes along, things only seem to get worse. I want to hold your hand and tell you things will be okay, and that the world will right itself. You will be okay. You are broken, but you are strong, and I never want you to forget that. You may not be able to see it yourself, but everyone around you can see it. You will make it through this.

July 1, 2011

WILL

22. There’s Gonna Be Some Rockin’

In Will’s room, his bed ended with a window ledge, an area so perfect for propping up feet that the maid had long given up all hope of removing the years of scuff marks. Since the space was abnormally shaped, everything was crammed into small spaces, hidden in nooks and crannies. He never minded the lack of space much, but after discovering his magic, he convinced his parents to let him build a secret passage in the back of his closet. He saw the appeal of having his own fort, a place for a young boy to plot. However, it was most useful as he got older, becoming his own personal haven. Whenever he needed a break, he would slip through the hidden doorway to the housing place of his record player. His parents’ disapproving stares would be drowned out by the sounds of heavy-duty rocking, and all was well.

41. Don’t Get Mad, Get Even

Will winced as he surveyed the wreckage that was once his dormitory. Although it was not known for being tidy to begin with, the room was in shambles. The mess followed a pattern, however; someone had deliberately ransacked his room, probably in retaliation. Sirius Black walked by to see the damage, whistling his approval for a prank well-executed. “You have to be a little angry about that one,” Sirius mused. “You should have known better and protected your room, you know.” Will shrugged. “Getting angry would be stupid. I follow the golden rule of pranks. Don’t get mad, get even.”

39. Original Prankster

Will was quite familiar with the fact that the world was full to the brim with pranksters. Within his very own house at Hogwarts, he could see the wide range of competing pranksters, all united by the goal of creating as much mayhem as possible. However, many lacked creativity, choosing to settle for the repetitive use of spit wads and muggle whoopee cushions, as opposed to designing more advanced pranks. Will was determined not to fall into this underachieving crowd. He planned to use all his ingenuity to become one of the only original pranksters that Gryffindor had ever seen.

19. If You Can’t See My Mirrors

Will stared out the window of his charms class, bored as can be. He just wanted to get out of class—it was a nice day outside, with conditions ideal for flying. However, he was instead stuck inside the dark, musty classroom. The rest of the class was doing wandwork involving mirrors, but Will had not been paying enough attention to know what exactly they were doing. The charms professor saw Will, and made a beeline for his desk. “Mister Devlin,” he started, his voiced laced with disapproval. “Don’t you think you should go get a mirror from the box in the back of the room? You don’t want to get behind on your work, do you?” Will was not intimidated by him. With an innocent smile on his face, he waved his wand lazily, muttering a charm under his breath. “If you can’t see my mirrors, Professor, you might want to invest in some better eyeglasses.” The professor turned red, preparing to raise his voice to the disrespectful youngster. However, Will’s face remained the model of innocence, and he calmly pointed upward. The professor paled when he saw a ring of mirrors circling above Will’s head, and turned even redder as, one by one, they all crashed to the ground.

Twenty minutes later, Will was still looking out the window at the beautiful day. However, this time, he knew there was little hope of escape; the week’s worth of detentions he earned would keep him grounded for a while.

27. White People for Peace

Will was not the most philosophical person in the world, and he did not tend to think about major global issues that did not concern him. However, as he walked by a picketer, holding a “Free the elves!” sign, he spared the issue a second thought. Although he was not one of those elitist wizards who thought the house elves deserved to be slaves, he did not care nearly enough to join whatever club the girl was promoting. He doubted they would do much about the issue, anyway. It was just another group of white people for peace; although they got riled up and held rallies, they did little to change anything. The house elves could survive without his support, Will decided, and continued on his way. Will always had and always would find comfort in his trademark combination of pessimism, selfishness, and a good dose of doing absolutely nothing.

37. Pretty Visitors

Will’s parents had given their son strict instructions for that night. He was to stay in his room with his nanny, not causing any trouble or making much noise. He was to be a good little boy, because Mommy and Daddy were having important visitors over to discuss important adult matters.
Telling Will not to do anything was a full guarantee that he would find a way to do it. He brought on his best puppy dog eyes in order to convince his nanny to play hide and seek, and the second she turned away, he quickly toddled to the door and slipped outside. He smiled to himself as he walked down the hallway, glad that it was a new nanny, who did not know better.
When he got to the main stairs, he hid behind the banister, peeking down at the party full of lots of old strangers in weird clothing.
After watching for a while, Will was disappointed by these “important visitors” that did nothing but sit there and talk in groups, like herds of fancy cows. However, the voice he heard coming down the hallway left him little time to feel anything but dread—he was going to be in huge trouble if he got caught.
When the mysterious voice finally came to the stairs, he saw that it was a girl, not much older than him. She was talking to herself and her doll, and she spotted Will quickly. She walked over and plopped down next to him, not seeming to care that her dress was white and the ground was dusty. “What are you doing here?” she asked Will. “Spying,” he said. She pondered that for a second before nodding and whispering, “Can I spy, too?”
The pair sat together for an hour or two, and when Will eventually got up and walked back to his room, he decided that Mommy and Daddy’s party was not boring after all. Not everyone there was an old person wearing silly clothes. There was one pretty visitor at that party, and she had kissed her fellow spy goodnight.

12. Sister Luck

Will never believed in old superstitions. He had no use for wishes, even on magical meteors, and black cats were irrelevant unless McGonagall’s fur color had changed. The most ridiculous thing in his mind, though, was the idea that luck was something to gain and lose. Will did not view Sister Luck as a volatile creature, smiling one day and smiting the next, like a cruel, PMSing woman. He thought luck was irrelevant, generally, since he always had it in abundance. The only “Sister Luck” he believed in ended in kisses from two girls at the end of a date.

Let It Rain

Will groaned inwardly as his father drove up to the local country club. Being a wealthy, important muggle, he had decided that it was time he pass along his legacy and teach his son the most worthless muggle sport there was—golf. As they got out and dragged the golf clubs inside to get a cart, Will’s father went to schmooze. Will wanted to gag watching it, secretly muttering to himself the entire time, “Please let it rain, please let it rain.”

He had no such luck.

Out on the first hole, his father took it upon himself to try and teach Will the basic rules. Will decided he wanted to crawl into a cave and hide after a few minutes of it.

“So,” his father explained, “First, you grab the stick right here. Like this. Aim carefully, and try to get your balls in the hole. It’s easy. It takes lots of concentration, and you get hot and sweaty, but I think even you can manage it.”

Will decided in that instant that he never wanted to play golf with his father again, and hoped desperately that this game would end as soon as possible. “Please let it rain.”

(For Tsuki)

Red – Death Note
Mello had always loved the color red. It was the color of blood. Before the mafia, that meant an unsolved mystery, and another chance to beat Near. After the mafia, that meant a job well done. Red was the color of rage, and of the other strong emotions that made him who he was.
It was also the hair color of the only person who meant anything to him in the world.

Mello had never hated red more than in that moment, however. He could never love the color again once he saw it gushing from his beloved’s gunshot wounds.


Weight of Time – TID
Jem was happy. Things were falling into place—Will seemed oddly happy, and Tessa had agreed to be his wife. He was going to be married to a girl who loved him; he was going to have everything he could have possibly wanted in life. Jem was used to the constant loom of his impending mortality, knowing that each second he lived, he was one second closer to death. However, in that moment, all he could think of was the happiness he would have while he was still here and living. The weight of time held no power over him.

12) The Fly

Ebby was sitting in the corner of her dorm. Her roommate had two friends over in the room, and they were talking about relationship issues that one of them, a girl named Deena, was having. Listening to them talk, Ebby started to get annoyed. They were trying to give Deena advice, but they clearly didn’t know her very well. Their advice was geared towards someone much more open and assertive than Deena, and it was obvious that she wouldn’t be able to follow any of it. Eb would never cut in and say so, since it wasn’t really any of her business—it didn’t relate to her at all. She had no reason to care, and she liked her objectivity. Getting involved would be messy, and she cherished her position as a fly on the wall. Watching from the distance was preferable to being someone’s life counselor.

It wasn’t fair. Sirius was always running around with whatever girl he wanted that week. All he had to do was drop some hints that he was interested, and all the girls came flocking. Remus could get all the girls he wanted, if he weren’t more turned on by books than boobs. Even Peter could occasionally pick up a girl, when he wanted to.

James was perpetually single.

James wanted Lily Evans, and she was always off spending her time with bloody Snivellus. It made James’ inferiority complex even worse that Lily would pick a slimy git like Snape over him. Sirius had told James hundreds of times to just give up on Lily, and not to let it get to him. She was defective, and there were hundreds of girls who would date him, Padfoot had insisted.

James didn’t WANT hundreds of girls, though. All he wanted was Lily.