![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hackthis_archiveAfter I posted 'A Nott Don't Come for Free' ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
jonem inquired what my plan was for Thousandth Man-verse and how it was going to end and that actually got me thinking about the end. Before, the end had only been a vague place in the distance, but after some random conversing with circe_tigana, I have seen the end, and lo, it is coming in two more large sections. I think closure will suit us all nicely. Cookies don't count though, and since before my holiday I told dorrie6 that I would write her a wee piece with snow in it, I had to deliver.
So this is for her andplumsnickety, who has created so many lovely icons, including the one here, for this universe.
Thousandth Man-verse
Not For all the Love in the World
Large, puffy flakes of whiteness fall all around them in flurries. It is the sort of snow that accumulates rather than melting on impact, and the grey Scotland sky is clear; the air crisp with fine visibility.
It's a plain description for a beautiful tableau, but it gets the point across, which is what matters since Theodore is not given to purple-prose and gross embellishments. He does not care for great metaphors and comparisons.
He does not claim to be simple -- but he likes his life to be simple and straight-forward. Of course, he would also like for the war to be over and done with in the flash of a wand and Unforgivable curse -- but he is not expecting it to be so.
There is a great difference between what Theodore wants and what he expects
The packed snow crunches loudly under the weight of his feet, and the biting cold makes his eyes water and his nose run. Beside him Blaise prattles -- actually Blaise has never been given to prattling, he is making conversation, attempting to keep Theodore's mind off what is approaching -- but it is all for naught.
In an ideal world, Theodore would be flanked by Blaise and Neville right now, and his gloved hand would be brushing against Neville's hand with every step closer to their destination. Neville's checks would be flushed with the cold, and he would be talking animated about plants or plans for their eventual summer holiday in Nice.
Blaise would roll his eyes in irritation and whisper something in Theodore's ear in French. Theodore would smirk, shake his head, and make a point of brushing shoulders with Neville as they continued onward in their journey. He has promised to teach Neville French while they are on holiday -- while they are all on holiday -- and he is grateful to Blaise for agreeing to come with them, eventually.
Theodore knows that Blaise does not approve of Neville -- but he makes an attempt to be civil when he must and that is enough for now.
Theodore will turn his head slightly when Neville hooks two of their fingers together, because they do not hold hands, but this link works well for them.
Every now and then they will stop to adjust their cloaks and robes against the elements. Theodore will tighten Neville's scarf and brush the snow off of his shoulders, and Blaise will knock the flakes out of Theodore's hair.
All around them the snow will continue to fall, and they will walk on until they reach their destination. Wherever that is.
This, however, is not an ideal world, and Theodore makes a grab for Blaise's arm when his footing falters on a slippery patch.
He is supported by Blaise's hand over on his, and the castle is a dark grey citadel in the distance as they move from class to class, motivated to quickness by the cold.
Theodore's haste is further provoked by the figures approaching intently; his vision sharp and focussed between the falling snow.
He can make out Granger's frizzy brown hair trying to escape from underneath her hat, and Potter's haphazard perambulations are well-known to all.
They are of no consequence to Theodore since he only has eyes for that burgundy coat he would know anywhere, and he makes a point of looking forward and not to the side as Neville walks closer in the company of other Gryffindors.
There are snowflakes sitting in Neville's hair. Tiny, white specks that sit on top of the spiky, brown bristles, and his cheeks are bright pink with the colour. Neville is wearing the gloves that Theodore bought for him during the winter holiday, and Theodore does his best not to notice the way Neville's tongue flickers out to wet his lips. He finds himself he biting back a grimace when Blaise's hold on his forearm tightens significantly.
He ignores Granger's appraising gaze and Potter's glare, refusing to let his steps falter when all he really wants to do is push Neville down in the nearest snowdrift and snog him senseless.
Theodore wants to grab Neville by the lapels of the hideous coat and lick at his cold chapped lips until Neville is whimpering against him and Theodore's tongue is buried in Neville's warm, wet mouth.
Theodore wants -- a lot of things.
Instead he shakes free of Blaise's death grip and lets his hands fall to his sides. As the two groups draw closer, the Gryffindors close ranks, and it's only in passing that Theodore feels Neville's hand brush against his.
And as the two factions pass, Theodore's chest is filled with a warmth that not even the frigid weather can touch. He has no name for the sensation, but he thinks it's a lot like being kissed by Neville Longbottom.
-end-
+ Unbeta'd because it is Saturday and everybody needs a 303. Err, a break.
+ Title from the song byThe Killers. The Thrills. There are too many bands that start with 'The' and have double 'l's. And none of them are that good.
I am attempting to find a hook for my![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
yuletide story. I know what I want to write, but I can't seem to find the proper hook. Damn!
jonem inquired what my plan was for Thousandth Man-verse and how it was going to end and that actually got me thinking about the end. Before, the end had only been a vague place in the distance, but after some random conversing with circe_tigana, I have seen the end, and lo, it is coming in two more large sections. I think closure will suit us all nicely. Cookies don't count though, and since before my holiday I told dorrie6 that I would write her a wee piece with snow in it, I had to deliver. So this is for her and
plumsnickety, who has created so many lovely icons, including the one here, for this universe.Thousandth Man-verse
Not For all the Love in the World
Large, puffy flakes of whiteness fall all around them in flurries. It is the sort of snow that accumulates rather than melting on impact, and the grey Scotland sky is clear; the air crisp with fine visibility.
It's a plain description for a beautiful tableau, but it gets the point across, which is what matters since Theodore is not given to purple-prose and gross embellishments. He does not care for great metaphors and comparisons.
He does not claim to be simple -- but he likes his life to be simple and straight-forward. Of course, he would also like for the war to be over and done with in the flash of a wand and Unforgivable curse -- but he is not expecting it to be so.
There is a great difference between what Theodore wants and what he expects
The packed snow crunches loudly under the weight of his feet, and the biting cold makes his eyes water and his nose run. Beside him Blaise prattles -- actually Blaise has never been given to prattling, he is making conversation, attempting to keep Theodore's mind off what is approaching -- but it is all for naught.
In an ideal world, Theodore would be flanked by Blaise and Neville right now, and his gloved hand would be brushing against Neville's hand with every step closer to their destination. Neville's checks would be flushed with the cold, and he would be talking animated about plants or plans for their eventual summer holiday in Nice.
Blaise would roll his eyes in irritation and whisper something in Theodore's ear in French. Theodore would smirk, shake his head, and make a point of brushing shoulders with Neville as they continued onward in their journey. He has promised to teach Neville French while they are on holiday -- while they are all on holiday -- and he is grateful to Blaise for agreeing to come with them, eventually.
Theodore knows that Blaise does not approve of Neville -- but he makes an attempt to be civil when he must and that is enough for now.
Theodore will turn his head slightly when Neville hooks two of their fingers together, because they do not hold hands, but this link works well for them.
Every now and then they will stop to adjust their cloaks and robes against the elements. Theodore will tighten Neville's scarf and brush the snow off of his shoulders, and Blaise will knock the flakes out of Theodore's hair.
All around them the snow will continue to fall, and they will walk on until they reach their destination. Wherever that is.
This, however, is not an ideal world, and Theodore makes a grab for Blaise's arm when his footing falters on a slippery patch.
He is supported by Blaise's hand over on his, and the castle is a dark grey citadel in the distance as they move from class to class, motivated to quickness by the cold.
Theodore's haste is further provoked by the figures approaching intently; his vision sharp and focussed between the falling snow.
He can make out Granger's frizzy brown hair trying to escape from underneath her hat, and Potter's haphazard perambulations are well-known to all.
They are of no consequence to Theodore since he only has eyes for that burgundy coat he would know anywhere, and he makes a point of looking forward and not to the side as Neville walks closer in the company of other Gryffindors.
There are snowflakes sitting in Neville's hair. Tiny, white specks that sit on top of the spiky, brown bristles, and his cheeks are bright pink with the colour. Neville is wearing the gloves that Theodore bought for him during the winter holiday, and Theodore does his best not to notice the way Neville's tongue flickers out to wet his lips. He finds himself he biting back a grimace when Blaise's hold on his forearm tightens significantly.
He ignores Granger's appraising gaze and Potter's glare, refusing to let his steps falter when all he really wants to do is push Neville down in the nearest snowdrift and snog him senseless.
Theodore wants to grab Neville by the lapels of the hideous coat and lick at his cold chapped lips until Neville is whimpering against him and Theodore's tongue is buried in Neville's warm, wet mouth.
Theodore wants -- a lot of things.
Instead he shakes free of Blaise's death grip and lets his hands fall to his sides. As the two groups draw closer, the Gryffindors close ranks, and it's only in passing that Theodore feels Neville's hand brush against his.
And as the two factions pass, Theodore's chest is filled with a warmth that not even the frigid weather can touch. He has no name for the sensation, but he thinks it's a lot like being kissed by Neville Longbottom.
-end-
+ Unbeta'd because it is Saturday and everybody needs a 303. Err, a break.
+ Title from the song by
I am attempting to find a hook for my
yuletide story. I know what I want to write, but I can't seem to find the proper hook. Damn!
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2004-12-11 05:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-12-11 05:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-12-13 12:59 pm (UTC)