100 Moments
folder
Harry Potter › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
100
Views:
10,628
Reviews:
52
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
100
Views:
10,628
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.
Smell
Title: Smell
Author: ianthe_waiting
Rating: MA
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: Dark!fic, disturbing imagery, HBP spoilers.
Summary: #36 – Smell. He was in love with her scent.
Word Count: 729 words.
Author's Notes: Drabble: a slice of fic in less than 1500 words. Suggested by.
Prompt 36 – Smell
Fenrir Greyback was in love, or as close to it as he could be.
He love the way young girls smelled, no bloody smell of breached maidenheads, no cologne smell of young men on their skin, just sweet perfumes of youth and innocence. This was how the Weasley girl smelled.
He chased her from the castle after mauling her brother, he chased her into the trees, lamenting that there was no full moon that night. Her scent, her fear, it was like dropping breadcrumbs in the wake of a fleeing girl and he followed.
He wanted to taste her.
It was not just the girl’s fear or the chase that made his blood rise, it was how beautiful the girl looked in the light of curse fire. She had the clearest blue eyes he could ever remember seeing, and best of all, her long hair reminded him of waves of lapping blood about her thin shoulders.
He was not sure what her name was, but he knew she was a Weasley.
Into the trees she ran, her legs pumping as hard as they could to propel her faster into the darkness. He knew that she was stumbling over roots in the dark. Even the light of the Dark Mark in the sky barely penetrated the canopy of the trees. But he could see, oh yes, he could see her hair in the darkness, and the lovely ivory column of her throat.
If it had been a full moon, he would not prolong the chase, and sink his teeth into that creamy throat. He would drink her body dry, perhaps, or, if she proved strong, he would keep her in his pack, a bitch to be used and mated. It had been a long time since he had had a bitch in his pack worthy of being a mate to the alpha.
She was young, almost too young, but he had turned younger.
He could smell her breath as her exertions had turned into gasping breaths. She smelled like pumpkin juice and pastries. He wondered if he could taste it in her mouth when he would kiss her.
A tiny yelp alit the air, and he froze, his keen eyes catching sight of flying crimson hair. He could smell blood, not much, possibly from a scrape from her tumble down a low embankment. The scent was metallic with sweeter chords beneath the main scent.
He knew all about the science of scent. Notes composed a fragrance, chords composed a harmony of scent, and together a perfume is produced. The Weasley girl had the best fragrance he had smelled in a long time.
He was shadowing her as she continued to run, unaware that he was so near that he could easily snatch her up in his arms, and unaware that she was running back toward the castle in a wide sweeping arc through the trees.
He would have to take her before she appeared on the grounds again.
Her exhales came as sobs as her running began to slow, sweat beginning to run down the side of her angelic face. Her sweat smelled of ylang-ylang and musk, the lower notes were more exotic scents that his mind had forgotten.
He wanted her.
Such a lovely scent surely had a wonderful taste. He would lick her skin before tasting her flesh and sipping on her blood. He would tear at her flawless skin and look inside. He would keep her alive and watch her turn. And at full moon, he would breach her maidenhead and claim her.
His body itched with arousal as he darted from behind one tree to the other, moving to cut the girl off before she could reach the grounds. He would take her and keep her, hide her from his pack mates, and from the Dark Lord. He would make her his only one…
“Ginny!” a voice shouted from near the tree line.
He sniffed the air. It was a male, a boy not much older than the girl whose name he now knew. Ginny…
The girl, Ginny, suddenly changed direction in her running, and he growled as before he could move the girl fell into the boy’s arms, sobbing.
He did not know who the boy was, a gangling, brown haired boy, but he wanted to kill him.
Ginny Weasley… He would remember that name.
Author: ianthe_waiting
Rating: MA
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: Dark!fic, disturbing imagery, HBP spoilers.
Summary: #36 – Smell. He was in love with her scent.
Word Count: 729 words.
Author's Notes: Drabble: a slice of fic in less than 1500 words. Suggested by
Prompt 36 – Smell
Fenrir Greyback was in love, or as close to it as he could be.
He love the way young girls smelled, no bloody smell of breached maidenheads, no cologne smell of young men on their skin, just sweet perfumes of youth and innocence. This was how the Weasley girl smelled.
He chased her from the castle after mauling her brother, he chased her into the trees, lamenting that there was no full moon that night. Her scent, her fear, it was like dropping breadcrumbs in the wake of a fleeing girl and he followed.
He wanted to taste her.
It was not just the girl’s fear or the chase that made his blood rise, it was how beautiful the girl looked in the light of curse fire. She had the clearest blue eyes he could ever remember seeing, and best of all, her long hair reminded him of waves of lapping blood about her thin shoulders.
He was not sure what her name was, but he knew she was a Weasley.
Into the trees she ran, her legs pumping as hard as they could to propel her faster into the darkness. He knew that she was stumbling over roots in the dark. Even the light of the Dark Mark in the sky barely penetrated the canopy of the trees. But he could see, oh yes, he could see her hair in the darkness, and the lovely ivory column of her throat.
If it had been a full moon, he would not prolong the chase, and sink his teeth into that creamy throat. He would drink her body dry, perhaps, or, if she proved strong, he would keep her in his pack, a bitch to be used and mated. It had been a long time since he had had a bitch in his pack worthy of being a mate to the alpha.
She was young, almost too young, but he had turned younger.
He could smell her breath as her exertions had turned into gasping breaths. She smelled like pumpkin juice and pastries. He wondered if he could taste it in her mouth when he would kiss her.
A tiny yelp alit the air, and he froze, his keen eyes catching sight of flying crimson hair. He could smell blood, not much, possibly from a scrape from her tumble down a low embankment. The scent was metallic with sweeter chords beneath the main scent.
He knew all about the science of scent. Notes composed a fragrance, chords composed a harmony of scent, and together a perfume is produced. The Weasley girl had the best fragrance he had smelled in a long time.
He was shadowing her as she continued to run, unaware that he was so near that he could easily snatch her up in his arms, and unaware that she was running back toward the castle in a wide sweeping arc through the trees.
He would have to take her before she appeared on the grounds again.
Her exhales came as sobs as her running began to slow, sweat beginning to run down the side of her angelic face. Her sweat smelled of ylang-ylang and musk, the lower notes were more exotic scents that his mind had forgotten.
He wanted her.
Such a lovely scent surely had a wonderful taste. He would lick her skin before tasting her flesh and sipping on her blood. He would tear at her flawless skin and look inside. He would keep her alive and watch her turn. And at full moon, he would breach her maidenhead and claim her.
His body itched with arousal as he darted from behind one tree to the other, moving to cut the girl off before she could reach the grounds. He would take her and keep her, hide her from his pack mates, and from the Dark Lord. He would make her his only one…
“Ginny!” a voice shouted from near the tree line.
He sniffed the air. It was a male, a boy not much older than the girl whose name he now knew. Ginny…
The girl, Ginny, suddenly changed direction in her running, and he growled as before he could move the girl fell into the boy’s arms, sobbing.
He did not know who the boy was, a gangling, brown haired boy, but he wanted to kill him.
Ginny Weasley… He would remember that name.