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two drabbles
18/3/08 05:01[100 words, G, Victoire and Hermione]
Eight-year-old Victoire was clearly far happier with her shelf of books at Aunt Hermione's than her apron at Grandmother Molly's. One afternoon, however, Hermione noticed that the girl looked troubled. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"
Victoire held up the worn edition of Little Women. "How can a needle be too heavy to hold? Is it really possible for someone to become that weak?"
Hermione swallowed. "I'm afraid it is."
Victoire was not normally a demonstrative child, but she flung her arms around Hermione's neck. "Promise me you won't ever disappear!"
Oh, the lies we have to tell. Aloud, Hermione murmured, "I promise."
[200 words, G, George, character death]
After gazing at his mother's still, shrunken body for several silent minutes, George Weasley finally said:
"I realised long ago that I would never become who you wanted me to be. No matter how much money I earned -- no matter how many people I made laugh -- no matter what I invented, no matter how clever or ingenious or helpful, you couldn't understand why I couldn't be like Bill or Charlie or, Mercury help me, Harry. You never forgave me for not wanting or agreeing to be respectable.
"But it's because I'm my own boss, that I could come live with you indefinitely. It's because I didn't have children -- unlike everyone else you wanted me to be -- that I could take care of you in your own home. And there's no one better qualified in the world to sort out the house and settle what's left to settle, even though you never, ever stopped assuming I was doing everything wrong, even when I handled things the way I knew you would insist upon instead of the best way. Everyone else in the world thinks I'm competent, but you never did."
From the doorway, Bill said, gently, "That does mean she's outvoted."
In memory of my mother, who died yesterday.
Eight-year-old Victoire was clearly far happier with her shelf of books at Aunt Hermione's than her apron at Grandmother Molly's. One afternoon, however, Hermione noticed that the girl looked troubled. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"
Victoire held up the worn edition of Little Women. "How can a needle be too heavy to hold? Is it really possible for someone to become that weak?"
Hermione swallowed. "I'm afraid it is."
Victoire was not normally a demonstrative child, but she flung her arms around Hermione's neck. "Promise me you won't ever disappear!"
Oh, the lies we have to tell. Aloud, Hermione murmured, "I promise."
[200 words, G, George, character death]
After gazing at his mother's still, shrunken body for several silent minutes, George Weasley finally said:
"I realised long ago that I would never become who you wanted me to be. No matter how much money I earned -- no matter how many people I made laugh -- no matter what I invented, no matter how clever or ingenious or helpful, you couldn't understand why I couldn't be like Bill or Charlie or, Mercury help me, Harry. You never forgave me for not wanting or agreeing to be respectable.
"But it's because I'm my own boss, that I could come live with you indefinitely. It's because I didn't have children -- unlike everyone else you wanted me to be -- that I could take care of you in your own home. And there's no one better qualified in the world to sort out the house and settle what's left to settle, even though you never, ever stopped assuming I was doing everything wrong, even when I handled things the way I knew you would insist upon instead of the best way. Everyone else in the world thinks I'm competent, but you never did."
From the doorway, Bill said, gently, "That does mean she's outvoted."
In memory of my mother, who died yesterday.