ASSORTED DRABBLES
Various and sundry drabbles and teeny ficlets that aren't really proper fics.Oblivion
The maddening part—the really, really maddening part—wasn't that he didn't know Moony's thoughts on the subject (because he really did, quite well), but that Moony didn't know his thoughts, and Sirius was simply too proud to lay himself at the Altar of Moony and declare himself a sacrifice to the God of Everything Sweet and Sexy and Sublimely Spacey.
"It's rather mad how much I adore you," Remus had said, oh-so-casually, as though it wasn't any sort of big deal. "How much have you written for your Charms essay?"
Since the world knew Sirius Black as an arrogant, self-assured sort of boy, he simply smirked, said, "Of course you adore me," and set about trying to copy seven inches off Remus's parchment without him realising.
But on the inside all he could do was sulk and silently wonder why his mate never asked if Sirius felt the same.
Hybridization
The man oozed power and possibilities; every exhalation of smoke was seductive, and Bellatrix was entranced.
"What does your superior want from me?" His voice was rough, but not abrasive. She was reminded of Rodolphus's father, who enjoyed his pipe nearly as much as he'd enjoyed his daughter-in-law.
She leaned closer. "We have a colleague in common," she said, her own voice low and husky, "and he's heard of your attempts at . . ." She paused a moment, trying to recall the exact word. "Hybridization."
A cloud of smoke. "Indeed?"
"Yes. He wonders if such a procedure might make a suitable method of compromise between his followers and his enemies."
The man nodded. "I see. And what is the benefit to me, if I were to comply?"
She smiled widely, the knowing smile of a woman who has always gotten what she wanted, or else convinced herself that she's wanted everything she got.
"Perhaps," she cooed, her lips brushing his ear, while one hand smoothed down over his suit, "you and I can think of something to your liking on our own?"
He dropped his half-smoked cigarette into the ashtray at his side, and it smoldered unnoticed until only the filter remained.
Moony's Lesson
When they first found the map, only Mssrs. Prongs and Padfoot really talked to them. Sometimes Wormtail would add a thought, but it was generally dismissed as silly. Months later though, they were still curious—more curious than ever, really—about the fourth Marauder who stayed so silent.
George was the first to crack; one night he specifically asked to speak to the elusive and enigmatic Moony.
"Oi!" he called out. "We know you're in there, stop being so stuck up and talk to us, Moony."
What do you want to know? came a new hand, after a pause.
Fred grinned. "Everything! Whatever you want to tell us. We are your humble students."
I think my colleagues have hit most of the high points—and Fred thought he detected a dry sarcasm in the handwriting—but the life of a prankster has tought me this if nothing else . . .
The twins, lying sprawled on Fred's bed, gaped as they held their breath and waited for the brilliance of M. Moony.
Semper ubi sub ubi*.
And Moony was never heard from again.
Out of Her Zip Code
"Not in this zip code."
He hurried back to the car, its lights on and wipers wiping without explanation. She stared after him, panting, confused beyond all hope. After a moment the rain and cold shocked her back to action.
The car ride was silent from there on out, aside from Mulder's frantic (annoying) tapping on the steering wheel. Scully snuck a glance at him, his face filled with a thoughtful kind of boyish glee. She wondered what he was thinking.
For herself, she was thinking that she was not even a week into her assignment, and she was already unsure that she'd be able to complete it as expected. The idea didn't sit well with her; she was unaccustomed to failure. She'd been honest with Blevins — she'd accepted this position with the idea that she could make a difference and stand out in the crowd.
But, really, how could she be expected to make her mark by stomping around the rainy Northwest, trailing in confusion after a man with a shaky grasp of what, exactly, defines a "universal invariant"?
Scully gave a small sigh, an indulgent smile, and looked out the window. It was a night for typing up notes and taking a nice bath. Something normal, yes, that's what she needed.