Read over the drabbles and choose one most favorite and one least favorite drabble. While reading, keep in mind the prompt and word count restrictions. Once you've chosen, put the number of each drabble in the corresponding box at the end of this post. Please remember to put number of the drabble and not the name; it makes it a lot easier for us to keep track. Each most favorite vote will receive +1 point and each least favorite vote will receive -1 point. The drabble with the most points will win, the two drabbles with the least points will be sent packing. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy.
If, at any point in time, you have a question about the voting procedure, please contact indaze22 or me ASAP. Thanks.
Enough babble, onto the drabbles!
PROMPT:Each drabble must include the following nouns:
- Person: Witness
- Place: Lake
- Thing: Lost Item
WORD COUNT: Exactly 199
TITLE: Skinny Dipping
WORD COUNT: 199
WARNING(S): Nudity, potential consumption by the Giant Squid sometime after the drabble ends.
"You sure you lost it here, Pansy?" Harry asked as he searched near the lake. They'd been looking for the ring for hours before the search had finally led them here. "I'm all for adventure, but if we get caught, it's detention for a month, you know." He didn't mind helping her--it was important to her, after all--but his Saturdays were a lot to risk for something that may not even be here.
When he heard nothing from her, he whipped his head around to find her, worried that she'd already been caught. His eyes bore witness to Pansy surrounded by shed robes and, by the look of it, her uniform would soon follow. "What are you doing," he asked hoarsely. She was a Goddess naked in the moonlight.
"We're going swimming, Potter," she responded, smirking.
"B-but," he sputtered in failed protest.
"Never was a ring," she admitted, "but it's still a treasure hunt!" She turned and mischievously walked toward the water. "X marks the spot," she called over her shoulder.
Harry hastened out of his uniform and joined her in the lake. He kissed her and grinned, "Does this mean I get to keep the booty?"
TITLE: Get off my lawn!
WORD COUNT: 199
RATING: PG-13 for suggestive themes
There was a reason why the squirrel picked this tree as his home. Its location on the far side of the lake meant that he was rarely bothered by humans. Which was why he was very unhappy to find a pair of those creatures under his tree’s leafy branches. They made such an awful racket that the robin nesting above him flew out in fright. Screeching furiously, he skittered across the tree branch, but the humans below continued to ignore him. Finally, he ran into his hole and began rummaging through his collection of nuts.
“Mmmmm...” Pansy purred against Harry’s neck. “Not bad for a virgin.”
“So glad you’re satisfied,” Harry replied with a low chuckle. He pressed his hip against the inside of her thigh, and was rewarded with the sight of Pansy’s eyes widening in delighted surprise.
“Yes, again,” she breathed, but before Harry could pull her closer, something hard hit the top of his head.
They both looked up and found a squirrel chattering in what sounded like anger down at them.
“Let’s find someplace more private,” Pansy laughed throatily as she dragged a bemused Harry to his feet and pushed him into the bushes.
TITLE: Whiskey Sour
WORD COUNT: 199
RATING: PG-13, theme
You can’t stand by and bear witness to the destruction of more than your marriage, more than your hopes and dreams.
A spoonful of powdered sugar helps the medicine go down.
You can’t bear witness to the destruction of her.
So you dodge the vase as it crashes against the wall behind you, and you close your ears to the venom escaping her throat, and you concentrate on your feet as they carry you out the back door, across the porch, down the path covered in decaying leaves.
Your battered heart beats a tattoo in time with your measured steps, a cyclone in your mind whirling around one thought:
Can’t, it whispers. Do this. It feels like a death rattle inside your head.
When life hands you lemons, make lemonade.
She was life and she was benediction. It’s killing you that you can’t save her.
Every plea has fallen unheard. Interventions and promises turned to ash.
A hero to the world, savior of none.
One little piece at a time, lost bits of your soul lining the path to the lake like decaying leaves.
Can a maraschino cherry be a Horcrux?
Life’s a bowl of cherries.
And you’re done.
TITLE: A Lesson In Growing Up
WORD COUNT: 199
WARNING(S): Two someones not being nice to Pansy, therefore angst.
Harry doubted that anyone could ever convince him as to why in the world he was going after his best mate's girlfriend, especially one he didn't like.
But, he just sucked it up and continued towards the lake where he could see her sitting. He knew how much Pansy meant to Ron. It was clear on Ron's face after he had learned of the plan. So Harry was doing this to begin to make amends with the friend who had gone through the gates of hell for him.
Harry sighed and took a seat by her, "You know, he didn't mean to lose your gift." Unfortunately, Harry only knew that because the gift wasn't exactly lost. He knew damn well who took it (he had watched her take it) and where it was stashed at the moment.
"I know." Though her words were short, her voice said so much more. He suddenly felt guilty assisting Hermione with her plan. And he felt a whole lot worse when she whispered, "Can I just ask why?"
"You don't have to like me, Harry, but your best friend loves me. Why isn't that enough for you? That I can make him happy."
TITLE: Quiet Moments
WORD COUNT: 199
Harry never stopped climbing trees. Even after the threat of Dudley and his overenthusiastic fists had passed, being high up in a tree had been freeing for him. It was a place where his worries and his enemies couldn’t find him, or at least couldn’t climb up after him.
It was only because of this secret hobby that he saw her. His favorite tree, of the many on the castle grounds, was the one overlooking the lake. It was also, he discovered, hers, as she would curl up against the trunk, always with the same weathered book of poetry, every Tuesday afternoon.
The first couple of times had been accidents. He hadn’t meant to be there, or to watch as she ran her finger fondly over one poem in particular. But he found himself coming back, and so he was the one that saw as she was shaken from her reverie, summoned back to the castle by Malfoy and Zabini and leaving her book behind.
The next morning, when Hedwig flew into the Great Hall with the book and the note he’d placed as an unneeded bookmark to her favorite poem, he smiled at her and she smiled back.
TITLE: Like a Beacon
WORD COUNT: 199
WARNING(S): AU, suicidal thoughts/actions, implied character death
The wind chills as it blows across the grey lake. Water laps at the shore, eating it in bites.
You stand at the edge and peer across, seeking for a glimmer of light, a glint of promise. You always expect find something here. Perhaps your broken vows, or the engagement ring lost during the last battle.
Surely, you think, the stone must shine somewhere among the rubble of the castle. A beacon, ever calling. Is that why you come here so often?
Or perhaps it’s the guilt drawing you forth. Guilt calling you as a witness to the destruction you helped create.
Or does Harry’s soul beckon, as eternal in its betrayal as he promised to be in his love? Is it his spilled blood, diluted in this water, that lures you closer?
The leafless trees whisper in your ear, and you think you hear Harry’s voice calling: Pansy… Pansy…
You take a step, water touching the toe of your boot. You take another, ankle-deep.
It offers absolution, forgiveness for your sins.
A lone beam of sun sparkles the water as it used to sparkle your ring.
Like a beacon, ever calling, ever calling you home.
VOTING ENDS FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 26th, 2010 at 11:59 PM EST!
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Round Two, Challenge Six
It was the witness, with the lost item, at the lake!
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