Taking the Meme Train to Bingo Town
Jan. 24th, 2015 10:37 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
teddy_radiatorWhen you see this, share 3 lines paragraphs (or more ;)) from each of 3 WIPs.
The Face of a Devil Sick With Sin: (Severus/Hermione, Harry Potter)
The last time Harry Potter saw Severus Snape alive they were locked in mortal combat, and he was winning. The older wizard was stronger, more ruthless and less reckless, but Harry had the advantage of youth on his side. Each gave as good as they got, and both were tiring, but Harry could smell victory, and it made him careless.
Then, he looked up and met Ginny’s eyes, and saw the love in them. It was all an opportunist like Snape needed. With a daring move that would have made Ron proud, he checkmated Harry’s king in four easy moves.
“Well done, Mr. Potter,” Snape said, easing back against his pillows. Hermione smiled indulgently at her husband, and discreetly passed him his teacup. Harry knew the brew contained a powerful pain potion, and his heart ached to see the pain in the older wizard’s face.
His voice, which Harry still heard in his dreams, was still imposing, but it had weakened. Overtones that had once rang through the Great Hall crackled past his vocal chords unstruck, like water syphoned through a colander. His hair, which had been black as a raven’s wing, was completely white now, and reached down to his waist in a glorious snowy waterfall.
But his large, slender hands, calloused and scarred, peppered with liver spots, were as steady as they’d been when he became England’s youngest Potions Master. He was the same age as Dumbledore had been when Snape, well, when Snape took his life.
Harry fancied Snape even looked a little like Albus now, but he knew that was a trick of time and his own imagination. Dumbledore had been light and sunshade, power hidden beneath voluminous, frivolous robes and twinkling blue eyes that hid his utter ruthlessness and concealed his schemes. He had been poison sweetened with treacle, and the glittering lights that capture sunshine on the ripples of a river that looks slow and sluggish, but is in reality fast-moving, deadly, and full of obstacles.
Snape was the shadow made by moonlight; he was wily and hid his power behind his bitter facade and raw, Northern energy. He was the gleam of a shining flake at the bottom of a clear stream that you thought was mica, but turned out to be true gold. He was silver hidden in a bubble of lava, nectar housed in a blister. He wore black to conceal his goodness, and spat vitriol to hide a heart that Harry once believed to be merely the organ that pumped blood around his body; so cold and blackened it contained only one agenda: revenge.
Hermione Wakes Up (Severus/Hermione/Regulus Black)
The alarm clocked died at 6:45am. Judging by its squawk of protest, it never realised it had been on borrowed time for months. Every day it woke Hermione with its chipper ‘isn’t-it-a-wonderful-day-to-be-a-witch’ attitude, and she had tolerated it with gritted teeth and liberal use of the Snooze function.
And so, when the light flashed on and the Wizarding Wireless blasted out of the speakers with high-pitched voices squealing in perfect, three-part harmony:
“If your drain is blocked and you know it’s not a ghoul,
We’re a quick Floo away with the perfect tool,
Forget the rest, you can put us to the test,
Pinkham and Perkins, your loo’s best friend!
If the smell is getting bad, and you don’t know what to do,
We’ll find out the problem, ‘cause we speak fluent, “Poo”,
We fix you up today, we’ll float your toilet cares away,
Pinkham and Perkins, your loo’s best—”
Hermione grabbed her wand, took indifferent aim, and blasted the clock to hell. Pinkham and Perkins sounded a little upset about it.
“Like I’m going to lie here listening to someone who purports to speak ‘fluent poo’,” she muttered grumpily. She glanced at the still-smoking radio, and tried to muster regret for destroying a perfectly innocent timepiece. In light of her work, it was dismally ironic.
The Library of Secrets (Severus/Hermione/?)
Her oldest and dearest friend burst through the fireplace, smoky and dusted with soot, looking both excited and harrassed. “You will never guess what’s happened,” he began, in that breathless, wild-eyed way that always portended natural disaster.
“What now?” she asked, warily. The last time he’d began a conversation with those words, they’d gone on the run for almost nine months. He hadn’t looked nearly as bewildered then as he did now.
“I’ve just spent the day at Hogwarts!” he exclaimed, his face beaming with joy. “Krum wants to have a go at a comeback, so they’ve asked me to take his place as the DADA professor! Can you believe it?”
Hermione laughed at the boyish, contagious enthusiasm that seemed to grow with every word. “I─I don’t know what to say! Are you going to take it?”
“They’ve really done me a deal. If I take it, then Ginny has been slated to take over the Quidditch and Flying programmes next term when Madam Hooch retires. We can’t lose, really. I mean, the kids will be attending before you know it and,” he paused for breath, “and that means we’ll have to live in the castle.” His grin grew even brighter. “And this is the best part.”
“Is it?” Hermione answered automatically. He was looking at her strangely, and she instantly knew she was missing something. “Of course, that’s good. I mean, you won’t have to travel...”
Then it struck her. Grimmauld Place. “But what are you going to do about─”
“I’mgivingittoyou,” he blurted, in one long word.
The Face of a Devil Sick With Sin: (Severus/Hermione, Harry Potter)
The last time Harry Potter saw Severus Snape alive they were locked in mortal combat, and he was winning. The older wizard was stronger, more ruthless and less reckless, but Harry had the advantage of youth on his side. Each gave as good as they got, and both were tiring, but Harry could smell victory, and it made him careless.
Then, he looked up and met Ginny’s eyes, and saw the love in them. It was all an opportunist like Snape needed. With a daring move that would have made Ron proud, he checkmated Harry’s king in four easy moves.
“Well done, Mr. Potter,” Snape said, easing back against his pillows. Hermione smiled indulgently at her husband, and discreetly passed him his teacup. Harry knew the brew contained a powerful pain potion, and his heart ached to see the pain in the older wizard’s face.
His voice, which Harry still heard in his dreams, was still imposing, but it had weakened. Overtones that had once rang through the Great Hall crackled past his vocal chords unstruck, like water syphoned through a colander. His hair, which had been black as a raven’s wing, was completely white now, and reached down to his waist in a glorious snowy waterfall.
But his large, slender hands, calloused and scarred, peppered with liver spots, were as steady as they’d been when he became England’s youngest Potions Master. He was the same age as Dumbledore had been when Snape, well, when Snape took his life.
Harry fancied Snape even looked a little like Albus now, but he knew that was a trick of time and his own imagination. Dumbledore had been light and sunshade, power hidden beneath voluminous, frivolous robes and twinkling blue eyes that hid his utter ruthlessness and concealed his schemes. He had been poison sweetened with treacle, and the glittering lights that capture sunshine on the ripples of a river that looks slow and sluggish, but is in reality fast-moving, deadly, and full of obstacles.
Snape was the shadow made by moonlight; he was wily and hid his power behind his bitter facade and raw, Northern energy. He was the gleam of a shining flake at the bottom of a clear stream that you thought was mica, but turned out to be true gold. He was silver hidden in a bubble of lava, nectar housed in a blister. He wore black to conceal his goodness, and spat vitriol to hide a heart that Harry once believed to be merely the organ that pumped blood around his body; so cold and blackened it contained only one agenda: revenge.
Hermione Wakes Up (Severus/Hermione/Regulus Black)
The alarm clocked died at 6:45am. Judging by its squawk of protest, it never realised it had been on borrowed time for months. Every day it woke Hermione with its chipper ‘isn’t-it-a-wonderful-day-to-be-a-witch’ attitude, and she had tolerated it with gritted teeth and liberal use of the Snooze function.
And so, when the light flashed on and the Wizarding Wireless blasted out of the speakers with high-pitched voices squealing in perfect, three-part harmony:
“If your drain is blocked and you know it’s not a ghoul,
We’re a quick Floo away with the perfect tool,
Forget the rest, you can put us to the test,
Pinkham and Perkins, your loo’s best friend!
If the smell is getting bad, and you don’t know what to do,
We’ll find out the problem, ‘cause we speak fluent, “Poo”,
We fix you up today, we’ll float your toilet cares away,
Pinkham and Perkins, your loo’s best—”
Hermione grabbed her wand, took indifferent aim, and blasted the clock to hell. Pinkham and Perkins sounded a little upset about it.
“Like I’m going to lie here listening to someone who purports to speak ‘fluent poo’,” she muttered grumpily. She glanced at the still-smoking radio, and tried to muster regret for destroying a perfectly innocent timepiece. In light of her work, it was dismally ironic.
The Library of Secrets (Severus/Hermione/?)
Her oldest and dearest friend burst through the fireplace, smoky and dusted with soot, looking both excited and harrassed. “You will never guess what’s happened,” he began, in that breathless, wild-eyed way that always portended natural disaster.
“What now?” she asked, warily. The last time he’d began a conversation with those words, they’d gone on the run for almost nine months. He hadn’t looked nearly as bewildered then as he did now.
“I’ve just spent the day at Hogwarts!” he exclaimed, his face beaming with joy. “Krum wants to have a go at a comeback, so they’ve asked me to take his place as the DADA professor! Can you believe it?”
Hermione laughed at the boyish, contagious enthusiasm that seemed to grow with every word. “I─I don’t know what to say! Are you going to take it?”
“They’ve really done me a deal. If I take it, then Ginny has been slated to take over the Quidditch and Flying programmes next term when Madam Hooch retires. We can’t lose, really. I mean, the kids will be attending before you know it and,” he paused for breath, “and that means we’ll have to live in the castle.” His grin grew even brighter. “And this is the best part.”
“Is it?” Hermione answered automatically. He was looking at her strangely, and she instantly knew she was missing something. “Of course, that’s good. I mean, you won’t have to travel...”
Then it struck her. Grimmauld Place. “But what are you going to do about─”
“I’mgivingittoyou,” he blurted, in one long word.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2015-01-24 04:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-01-24 09:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-01-24 06:31 pm (UTC)The second excerpt is just as wonderful in its whimsy and its humorous demonstration that Hermione is decidedly not a morning person. Also for the hint of (I imagine) time-turning as part of her profession.
Quite lovely all around.
no subject
Date: 2015-01-24 09:07 pm (UTC)I do love it when my imagery is on - I know that the Muse is driving when I get that right. I love imagery that is somehow sharp and rough, yet sensual at the same time.
You imagined correctly! I think the second and third may eventually merge into one fic. I've been rolling it around in my head for years now, but I really struggle with time-turner fics. I have written one that I'm dying to post, but I just don't feel comfortable with my time-turner meta. I think a little poetic license is fine - but I'm skirting the edges of remote believability on it, and I don't want it to fall apart under too much scrutiny ;)
no subject
Date: 2015-01-24 11:41 pm (UTC)And you got me with the beginning of that first one, too. Very clever.
I hope you finish these!
no subject
Date: 2015-01-25 12:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-01-25 03:02 am (UTC)