ficlet for <lj user
6/12/05 00:43![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bronze_ribbonsTitle: As Food to Life
Words: 400
Rating: U
Pairing:![[insanejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/ij-userinfo.gif)
trio_tracey/trio_justin (from triumvirate)
A/N: The closing quote's from Shakespeare's Sonnet 75.
Happy Christmas, MA!
Tracey had thought that, after ten years of marriage, she would find it easier rather than harder to adjust to Justin's frequent absences. After all, she didn't lack for work -- she now had contracts with Durmstrang and a wizarding circus, as well as her continuing agreement with Hogwarts -- as well as two small children to raise, in addition to playing godmother to Neville and Luna's brood. Moreover, the Slytherin in her rejoiced in how Justin's boss considered him indispensable, and that this was manifest not only in larger paychecks and a nicer office (as well as the insane hours and heavy travel), but in the increased juiciness of the gossip and hearsay Justin was able to relay to her. Any reservation he might have once harboured about sharing such information had completely vanished eight years ago; connecting two seemingly unrelated tidbits, Tracey had realized Hogwarts was in danger long before anyone else cottoned onto the existence of the conspiracy. She'd contrived to warn Professor Snape during a breakfast meeting; with Professor Lupin's permission, he'd treated the attack as an opportunity for a DADA practicum, watching with suppressed satisfaction as the seventh-years successfully demonstrated their collective ability to kick neo-Death Eater arse.
Yes, she liked her life very much, and relished the directions into which it had branched. On the other hand, she had gotten so very used to Justin reading aloud to her at night, and to be held when she was falling asleep, and to the steady, reliable backup he provided whenever their younger daughter seemed as though she was channeling Charlotte during her teacher-biting days. Given how quiet Justin was in general, it was unsettling how their house seemed even more quiet and desolate without him, even with dogs barking and kids babbling and birds hooting and cooing.
When Justin returned from Prague, he found her half-asleep in their bed, listening to the recording of "Dover Beach" he'd made for her years before. "Seems to me I'm always walking in on you and that crystal," he teased.
Flushing, Tracey happily rolled close to him as he slid under the covers. "Seems to me you used to bring me flowers, too," she mock-chided him.
Justin grinned. "My lady, you are my garden," he declared. As he conjured handfuls of rose petals, scattering them all over the sheets, he quoted, "So are you to my thoughts as food to life."
Words: 400
Rating: U
Pairing:
trio_tracey/trio_justin (from triumvirate)A/N: The closing quote's from Shakespeare's Sonnet 75.
Happy Christmas, MA!
Tracey had thought that, after ten years of marriage, she would find it easier rather than harder to adjust to Justin's frequent absences. After all, she didn't lack for work -- she now had contracts with Durmstrang and a wizarding circus, as well as her continuing agreement with Hogwarts -- as well as two small children to raise, in addition to playing godmother to Neville and Luna's brood. Moreover, the Slytherin in her rejoiced in how Justin's boss considered him indispensable, and that this was manifest not only in larger paychecks and a nicer office (as well as the insane hours and heavy travel), but in the increased juiciness of the gossip and hearsay Justin was able to relay to her. Any reservation he might have once harboured about sharing such information had completely vanished eight years ago; connecting two seemingly unrelated tidbits, Tracey had realized Hogwarts was in danger long before anyone else cottoned onto the existence of the conspiracy. She'd contrived to warn Professor Snape during a breakfast meeting; with Professor Lupin's permission, he'd treated the attack as an opportunity for a DADA practicum, watching with suppressed satisfaction as the seventh-years successfully demonstrated their collective ability to kick neo-Death Eater arse.
Yes, she liked her life very much, and relished the directions into which it had branched. On the other hand, she had gotten so very used to Justin reading aloud to her at night, and to be held when she was falling asleep, and to the steady, reliable backup he provided whenever their younger daughter seemed as though she was channeling Charlotte during her teacher-biting days. Given how quiet Justin was in general, it was unsettling how their house seemed even more quiet and desolate without him, even with dogs barking and kids babbling and birds hooting and cooing.
When Justin returned from Prague, he found her half-asleep in their bed, listening to the recording of "Dover Beach" he'd made for her years before. "Seems to me I'm always walking in on you and that crystal," he teased.
Flushing, Tracey happily rolled close to him as he slid under the covers. "Seems to me you used to bring me flowers, too," she mock-chided him.
Justin grinned. "My lady, you are my garden," he declared. As he conjured handfuls of rose petals, scattering them all over the sheets, he quoted, "So are you to my thoughts as food to life."