2. Conversation between me and my mother from earlier today:
Mum: (reacting to Myrtle's having been fixed) So you have two laptops?
Mum: I have none. :|
Me: Haha! :P
Mum: But *I* have a house. :P
3. queerditch_pub drabbles from tonight.
Harry/Draco: Sleeping Beauty
There was a story long ago, about a beautiful young girl who fell into a bewitched sleep and could not awaken until a prince kissed her.
Draco doesn't know why he remembers that story now as he looks down; Potter looks nothing like a girl, nor is he beautiful. The scar seems a deep red gash in the dim light of the cell.
Impulsively, Draco leans down and presses his lips to Potter's; there's something decidedly perverse in this but Draco likes it, perhaps a little too much.
"You should have joined our side when you had the chance," he breathes against Potter's pale cheek. The puff of breath is visible in the cold air; it seems to pause for a bit before vanishing. Draco can almost see it crystallising and falling onto Potter's face like the tears that no one is left to shed for the fallen hero.
"Goodbye," says Draco, more to himself than to Potter; he knows Potter can't hear him anyway.
He walks through the shadowed hallways, barely aware of the whispers that suffuse the air around him -- of Dementors, of other prisoners, of the nearly-dead and the dearly departed.
Draco is practically running by the time he reaches the world outside. The cold air stings his face but he's never been more glad to be alive and free. The brief stab of regret he felt when Potter didn't open his eyes, like in the fairy-tale, will be forgotten.
Harry/Draco: atop he castle
"You're asking for too much, Potter." Moonlight glanced off Malfoy's white-blond hair; the rest of him was in shadow in the alcove by the large arched window.
Harry approached him slowly, keeping his wand at the ready. "It wasn't too much for you to feed us information. It wasn't too much to smuggle me into the Death Eater meetings. You're a traitor already, Malfoy, what have you got to lose?"
"I will not turn on my father!" snarled Malfoy, whirling around to face him. His eyes shone with a dark, malevolent light that made Harry tighten his grip on his wand.
"You did that when you came to me on Halloween. Your father -- Voldemort -- they're one and the same, when it comes to this war, haven't you figured that out yet?"
Malfoy opened his mouth as if to speak, then promptly closed it and turned his head slightly to look out of the window. Harry followed his gaze to the still, dark greenhouses on the grounds below.
"Malfoy--" he began, but Malfoy moved then, quick as a fox. Harry backed up against the cold wall, keeping his eyes on the tip of Malfoy's wand.
"You don't get it, do you? I can't risk open betrayal. If my father is to be captured or worse, I will have no part in it, do you understand? There are things more important than the war." Malfoy's breathing was uneven and his wand shook in his hand.
Harry reached out and covered Malfoy's hand with his own, forcing him to lower his wand. "I know," he said quietly. "I'm sorry," he added, then released Malfoy and moved to leave.
Malfoy gripped him by the front of his jacket and leant forward until their mouths were almost touching -- almost. Harry felt that shameful rush of blood again, the thing he'd been trying to deny for so long, ever since he and Malfoy had been trapped in those catacombs together.
"When it's over, I will find you," said Malfoy.