![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sonofgodzilla posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
adventdrabblesTitle: Frae morning sun till dine
Universe: Harry Potter
Character(s): Romilda Vane/Melinda Bobbin
Rating: U
Warnings: N/A
Summary: Of course, she remembered that night, she thought, the card in her hand, the warmth of the fire upon her features; of course, she remembered—and yet it would have been so much easier not to.
Length: 457 words
Author's Notes: Foradventdrabbles Day 17. also: external link.
Frae morning sun till dine
“Wow, didn’t you used to have like a total crush on him in school?”
Hastily, she snapped the card shut, as if it was a book filled with lurid and unspeakable spells, and not knowing what to do with it, returned it to the mantel-piece.
“I did not have a crush on him,” Romilda Vane said, trying to reclaim her dignity, drawing herself up to her full height, even as the other girl threw her arms around her shoulders, and pushed her face into the crook of her neck.
“Yes you did,” Melinda Bobbin, smelling faintly of cinnamon and gingerbread, muttered into her girlfriend’s dark hair. “You absolutely did, you made him chocolates and everything.”
Chocolate Cauldrons, she remembered, laced with love potion.
“I did not make him chocolate.”
Melinda pulled away laughing, her face full of mischief and mirth.
“Well, whatever, you gave him chocolates.” She laughed. “You were a massive flirt at school, Rom, you know that?”
Romilda Vane’s cheeks flushed red.
“Well,” she proclaimed, “that’s how we ended up here, isn’t it?”
And where was here, she asked herself? Now past 30, living in leafy North London, unable to afford a proper house, renting forever.
“All that Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe business happened after that, didn’t it?” Melinda continued, her face alight with amusement.
“What lion?” Romilda asked. “Which witch?”
Melinda laughed.
“You probably didn’t read it as a kid. It’s a muggle book, big sun god analogies, all that. Did you see Star Wars? I can’t remember if I made you go cinema with me or not.”
Romilda shook her head, and Melinda shrugged.
“Well, it was that sort of thing, but it was real, really real, remember?”
The older girl did indeed remember. She didn’t like to think of it, but she did indeed recall what had happened.
“Ah, the good old days. Not really very good, were they?” Melinda said.
She reached past her and lifted the card from the mantel-piece, opening it once more, looking carefully at the inscription within:
‘Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year, lots of love, Harry, Ginny, James, Albus, and Lily.’
“Didn’t someone in his family like out themselves as a massive transphobe or something recently?”
“I don’t know,” Romilda answered.
The younger girl shrugged.
“Oh well. ‘Tis the season, I guess.”
Gently but firmly, Romilda took the card from her girlfriend, and with one swift gesture, tossed it into the fire beneath the mantel-piece.
“Hey, I was still reading that!” Melinda protested.
Romilda Vane watched the cardboard fold in on itself and blacken.
“Should auld acquaintance be forgot,” she said softly, her lips twitching with displeasure, “and never brought to mind.”
The card, and its tired, impersonal message, turned slowly to ash.
Universe: Harry Potter
Character(s): Romilda Vane/Melinda Bobbin
Rating: U
Warnings: N/A
Summary: Of course, she remembered that night, she thought, the card in her hand, the warmth of the fire upon her features; of course, she remembered—and yet it would have been so much easier not to.
Length: 457 words
Author's Notes: For
adventdrabbles Day 17. also: external link.Frae morning sun till dine
“Wow, didn’t you used to have like a total crush on him in school?”
Hastily, she snapped the card shut, as if it was a book filled with lurid and unspeakable spells, and not knowing what to do with it, returned it to the mantel-piece.
“I did not have a crush on him,” Romilda Vane said, trying to reclaim her dignity, drawing herself up to her full height, even as the other girl threw her arms around her shoulders, and pushed her face into the crook of her neck.
“Yes you did,” Melinda Bobbin, smelling faintly of cinnamon and gingerbread, muttered into her girlfriend’s dark hair. “You absolutely did, you made him chocolates and everything.”
Chocolate Cauldrons, she remembered, laced with love potion.
“I did not make him chocolate.”
Melinda pulled away laughing, her face full of mischief and mirth.
“Well, whatever, you gave him chocolates.” She laughed. “You were a massive flirt at school, Rom, you know that?”
Romilda Vane’s cheeks flushed red.
“Well,” she proclaimed, “that’s how we ended up here, isn’t it?”
And where was here, she asked herself? Now past 30, living in leafy North London, unable to afford a proper house, renting forever.
“All that Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe business happened after that, didn’t it?” Melinda continued, her face alight with amusement.
“What lion?” Romilda asked. “Which witch?”
Melinda laughed.
“You probably didn’t read it as a kid. It’s a muggle book, big sun god analogies, all that. Did you see Star Wars? I can’t remember if I made you go cinema with me or not.”
Romilda shook her head, and Melinda shrugged.
“Well, it was that sort of thing, but it was real, really real, remember?”
The older girl did indeed remember. She didn’t like to think of it, but she did indeed recall what had happened.
“Ah, the good old days. Not really very good, were they?” Melinda said.
She reached past her and lifted the card from the mantel-piece, opening it once more, looking carefully at the inscription within:
‘Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year, lots of love, Harry, Ginny, James, Albus, and Lily.’
“Didn’t someone in his family like out themselves as a massive transphobe or something recently?”
“I don’t know,” Romilda answered.
The younger girl shrugged.
“Oh well. ‘Tis the season, I guess.”
Gently but firmly, Romilda took the card from her girlfriend, and with one swift gesture, tossed it into the fire beneath the mantel-piece.
“Hey, I was still reading that!” Melinda protested.
Romilda Vane watched the cardboard fold in on itself and blacken.
“Should auld acquaintance be forgot,” she said softly, her lips twitching with displeasure, “and never brought to mind.”
The card, and its tired, impersonal message, turned slowly to ash.
