Drabbles by bow

each exactly 100 words.

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Sharp, Close, Wild (Narcissa/Bellatrix)

 

You've created little fictions to make it sound benign. You pretend; you say it only happened because your wing of the manor was chill and drafty while her body was warm. But so is Lucius's, and you've never clung to him that way. That's not what he's for--he is blanched and steady and precise, and she was sharp, close, wild. From behind her white teeth, your soft name cracked and broke like a war cry.

And yet she had her own sort of tenderness--you remember her hands, how they traveled over your back soft and quick as spiders.

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If Not Victory (Remus/Sirius)

"That was your first kiss, wasn't it." Remus hadn't even phrased it as a question, and the look of awkward disappointment on his face made Sirius wish he had practiced beforehand on his pillow.

Sirius flushed red and wiped his mouth on his sleeve less discreetly than he would've liked. "I should--forgot my--left something in the common room," he stuttered, already halfway to the dormitory door.

"Oi!" called Remus, fingering a patch of skin on his arm that was still turquoise a week after Sirius had hexed him. "Get back here, you git, it was my first, too."

(Title taken from a line from Milton's Paradise Lost: "...which, if not victory, is yet revenge.")

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Mating Rituals (Remus/Minerva)

"Remus," said Minerva McGonagall, face growing redder by the moment, "either someone has spiked this tea with firewhisky, or else I believe I may fancy you."

"Oh," breathed Remus, bringing his teacup to his lips. "Profess--Minerva, I do take my tea with firewhisky from time to time."

"I see," she said, pressing her lips into a thin line. "Of course."

"Yes," said Remus, uncomfortably aware now of the silence and the watchful eyes of the Grindylow in the tank.

"I always was a foolish drunk," she said, words running together as she leaned over the desk to kiss him.

(drabble inspired this fic by leogriffin.)

 

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