100 Moments
folder
Harry Potter › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
100
Views:
11,501
Reviews:
52
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
100
Views:
11,501
Reviews:
52
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Not Enough
Title: Not Enough
Author: ianthe_waiting
Rating: T+
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter books and their characters are the property of JK Rowling. This is a work of fan-fiction. No infringement is intended, and no money is being made from this story. I am just borrowing the puppets, but this is my stage.
Genre: Drabble
Warnings: Lite mentions of sexual activity.
Summary: #34 – Not Enough. It was never enough to simply live in his head.
Word Count: 851 words.
Author's Notes: Drabble: a slice of fic in less than 1500 words.
Prompt 34 – Not Enough
It was not enough that she would stare at him from across the Great Hall. It was not enough that they would have to spend Seven Years in shared classes, always set beside each other in the back row. It was not enough that they were tied in term finals every year, or that they both earned the same number of O.W.L.s. It was not enough that she was beautiful and intelligent, and looked wonderful in silver and green.
It was not enough that she drove him mad, intentionally. Every time he tried to confront her, she would somehow find a way to escape or make him lose his train of thought.
Scorpius Malfoy did not know what to do about Rose Weasley.
“Have you tried something a bit more forward?”
Scorpius’ grandfather was always a strange man. He knew well enough what his grandfather had done before he was born, he knew that Grandfather had been a Death Eater. It was not something to be proud of, and it was never discussed. Pure-blood pride was something as passé as Viktor Krum action figures or Firebolt brooms. Scorpius was an aberrant, the first Malfoy Sorted into Gryffindor, and though it had caused his Grandfather to sulk and his father to maintain an apoplectic rage during his First Year; Scorpius was still a Malfoy. When Malfoy men had problems, especially with other people, it seemed to be tradition to consult the patriarch of the family and start hatching a devious plot.
“Such as?” Scorpius asked.
It was Christmas holidays, his Seventh Year. He was Head Boy, but Rose Weasley had refused to be Head Girl when it was offered to her. He had almost counted on her sharing a Common Room with him, and the first term was a long string of disappointments, sharing the room with a Hufflepuff Head Girl instead.
“Pushing her in the mud?”
Scorpius scowled, an expression worthy of his surname. “I’m not eight years old, Grandfather…”
Sitting on his grandfather’s old Chesterfield in the bothy that his grandparents shared on the Malfoy Estate, Scorpius had half a mind to inquire of Grandmother if Grandfather was suffering from an early onset of dementia.
“Kick her off her broom, she’s Slytherin’s Seeker, you’re Gryffindor’s Seeker, it could happen…”
Scorpius rolled his grey eyes, arms along the back of the couch; long and lean body sprawled sloppily over the green leather.
“I don’t want to kill her, Grandfather…” he muttered.
“Then what is it you do want, Scorpius?” his Grandfather asked from his winged back chair by the fire, wolfhounds sleeping at his foot, a brandy snifter poised in his hand.
Scorpius said nothing for a long moment, staring into the raging fire.
He wanted to get under Rose Weasley’s skin, make her as mad as he felt half the time. He wanted her to feel that strangling sensation he felt when their hands brushed, reaching for ingredients in N.E.W.T. level Potions. He wanted to pull her into the niche near the Head’s Common Room and snog her senseless. He wanted to shove his cock…
“I want her to acknowledge me. I want her to own up to the fact that I know she’s staring at me in the Great Hall when she thinks I’m not looking…”
His grandfather chuckled. “She must think something of you then.”
Scorpius rubbed his eyes, leaning forward on the couch, his shaggy silvery blond hair falling into his face. He was handsome, he knew. He had girls from even First Year sending him love letters, chocolates at Valentine’s Day, love potions, and all sorts of little trinkets and tokens. It was from every House, even Slytherin, but never from Rose Weasley.
“Then corner her, kiss her, do whatever it is you children do nowadays.”
Scorpius straightened, staring incredulously at his grandfather. “You can’t be serious,” Scorpius breathed.
His father would murder him. Touching a Weasley was akin to scuffing the parquet floors in the foyer of the Manor—a mortal sin.
“From what I hear, she quite intelligent, capable, and quite Slytherin… A surprise, since her parents are the epitome of the House you were Sorted into, Scorpius,” his grandfather mused before sipping on his brandy.
“I can imagine what Father would say—half-blood, spawn of busy haired know-it-alls and weasel kings.”
Lucius chuckled. “All the same, she made the mistake in rousing the interest of a Malfoy.”
Scorpius could not help but smile at his grandfather.
“Destroy her or bed her, or both, Scorpius.”
The smile turned into a gape. What sort of advice was that?
It was not enough that Rose Weasley had his head spinning on his neck. It was not enough that she was the object of desire in his wet dreams, but now, his grandfather was advising that Scorpius actually do what he fantasized about in his waking and sleeping mind.
It was too much, but when Scorpius thought about it logically, it was not enough to suffer for something or someone who did not know what it was like to be obsessed over and love by a Malfoy.
Author: ianthe_waiting
Rating: T+
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter books and their characters are the property of JK Rowling. This is a work of fan-fiction. No infringement is intended, and no money is being made from this story. I am just borrowing the puppets, but this is my stage.
Genre: Drabble
Warnings: Lite mentions of sexual activity.
Summary: #34 – Not Enough. It was never enough to simply live in his head.
Word Count: 851 words.
Author's Notes: Drabble: a slice of fic in less than 1500 words.
Prompt 34 – Not Enough
It was not enough that she would stare at him from across the Great Hall. It was not enough that they would have to spend Seven Years in shared classes, always set beside each other in the back row. It was not enough that they were tied in term finals every year, or that they both earned the same number of O.W.L.s. It was not enough that she was beautiful and intelligent, and looked wonderful in silver and green.
It was not enough that she drove him mad, intentionally. Every time he tried to confront her, she would somehow find a way to escape or make him lose his train of thought.
Scorpius Malfoy did not know what to do about Rose Weasley.
“Have you tried something a bit more forward?”
Scorpius’ grandfather was always a strange man. He knew well enough what his grandfather had done before he was born, he knew that Grandfather had been a Death Eater. It was not something to be proud of, and it was never discussed. Pure-blood pride was something as passé as Viktor Krum action figures or Firebolt brooms. Scorpius was an aberrant, the first Malfoy Sorted into Gryffindor, and though it had caused his Grandfather to sulk and his father to maintain an apoplectic rage during his First Year; Scorpius was still a Malfoy. When Malfoy men had problems, especially with other people, it seemed to be tradition to consult the patriarch of the family and start hatching a devious plot.
“Such as?” Scorpius asked.
It was Christmas holidays, his Seventh Year. He was Head Boy, but Rose Weasley had refused to be Head Girl when it was offered to her. He had almost counted on her sharing a Common Room with him, and the first term was a long string of disappointments, sharing the room with a Hufflepuff Head Girl instead.
“Pushing her in the mud?”
Scorpius scowled, an expression worthy of his surname. “I’m not eight years old, Grandfather…”
Sitting on his grandfather’s old Chesterfield in the bothy that his grandparents shared on the Malfoy Estate, Scorpius had half a mind to inquire of Grandmother if Grandfather was suffering from an early onset of dementia.
“Kick her off her broom, she’s Slytherin’s Seeker, you’re Gryffindor’s Seeker, it could happen…”
Scorpius rolled his grey eyes, arms along the back of the couch; long and lean body sprawled sloppily over the green leather.
“I don’t want to kill her, Grandfather…” he muttered.
“Then what is it you do want, Scorpius?” his Grandfather asked from his winged back chair by the fire, wolfhounds sleeping at his foot, a brandy snifter poised in his hand.
Scorpius said nothing for a long moment, staring into the raging fire.
He wanted to get under Rose Weasley’s skin, make her as mad as he felt half the time. He wanted her to feel that strangling sensation he felt when their hands brushed, reaching for ingredients in N.E.W.T. level Potions. He wanted to pull her into the niche near the Head’s Common Room and snog her senseless. He wanted to shove his cock…
“I want her to acknowledge me. I want her to own up to the fact that I know she’s staring at me in the Great Hall when she thinks I’m not looking…”
His grandfather chuckled. “She must think something of you then.”
Scorpius rubbed his eyes, leaning forward on the couch, his shaggy silvery blond hair falling into his face. He was handsome, he knew. He had girls from even First Year sending him love letters, chocolates at Valentine’s Day, love potions, and all sorts of little trinkets and tokens. It was from every House, even Slytherin, but never from Rose Weasley.
“Then corner her, kiss her, do whatever it is you children do nowadays.”
Scorpius straightened, staring incredulously at his grandfather. “You can’t be serious,” Scorpius breathed.
His father would murder him. Touching a Weasley was akin to scuffing the parquet floors in the foyer of the Manor—a mortal sin.
“From what I hear, she quite intelligent, capable, and quite Slytherin… A surprise, since her parents are the epitome of the House you were Sorted into, Scorpius,” his grandfather mused before sipping on his brandy.
“I can imagine what Father would say—half-blood, spawn of busy haired know-it-alls and weasel kings.”
Lucius chuckled. “All the same, she made the mistake in rousing the interest of a Malfoy.”
Scorpius could not help but smile at his grandfather.
“Destroy her or bed her, or both, Scorpius.”
The smile turned into a gape. What sort of advice was that?
It was not enough that Rose Weasley had his head spinning on his neck. It was not enough that she was the object of desire in his wet dreams, but now, his grandfather was advising that Scorpius actually do what he fantasized about in his waking and sleeping mind.
It was too much, but when Scorpius thought about it logically, it was not enough to suffer for something or someone who did not know what it was like to be obsessed over and love by a Malfoy.