Post by palanfanaiel on Oct 21, 2005 14:35:23 GMT -5
Title: G.A.G.
Rating: 13+
A/N: Set in around the sixties.
Halloween…
Our Grotesque Annual Gathering has crept out from under the bed once again as the time nears. My fellow frighteners it’s that time again, to bring out the cobwebs of your imaginations and turn up with a dreadful mind.
Remember the dress code, or you’ll be fed to the horrible flesh-eating pumpkin-mutanto. Remember the gifts, my dear zombies.
No Booze, No entry…
See you at the magic midnight in the dungeons,
The most horrid wishes, Ro Howl
“Classy, that’s classy,” I couldn’t help my lips from forming those carefully words, wrapped in what I consider a to-the-point sarcasm. I should have anticipated this, I really should. From what I can remember, I have been by consciousness the last couple of years, and every year it’s the same drabble, written down as inelegantly as ever.
“Zoombiiess…”
“Ahem, dear. It pronounced, Zombies.”
A lean hand is caressing my shoulder discreetly, softly prodding my mind as the scent of him rushes foreward.
“’I’m quite aware of how it’s pronounced, professor Dumbledore.” Spinning around, I tactfully take a step forward, our fingers flexing in between each others, like vines crawling with the care of the sun.
“So, it seems Rolanda’s outdone herself this year, what a notice, huh,” his voice slipped around the air like treacle, caressing my skin gently along the jawline until the words reached my ears.
“Yes, Ro Howl truly has become a very frightful writer.” I graced him with a slight smile, as I leaned closer yet.
“So, picked a costume yet, my dear fellow zombie?” My rich laughter filled the room, joined by the ever jovial tones of his, a perfect tune to my ear.
“I’m working on in,” I replied as I tilted my head to one side, considering the blue gems bemusedly starring at me.
“A bet, my dear,” he said completely out of the blue, gems sparkling, mouth quivering with amusement. The art of confusion has always been his great ace. It astounds me time after time. Conversation with him is an evermore riddle, tricking you with a sweet smile.
“Professor Dumbledore, as soon as you start talking English I’ll consider whatever it is you’re trying to bestow on me.” Still our hands weave in and out, entwined by softness and an aching for more. I sincerely wished the board for staff notices had its home in any other place than the staffroom. A deserted broom closet, perhaps. His cheery chambers.
“I challenge you, my dear mouse-frightener, to a game of chess,” his warm breath fell like gently rain, warming my face with exhilaration.
“And what hidden agenda does the bet have?”
“The winner will have the utmost pleasure of deciding the costume for the loser,” an amused smile turned a sudden diabolic colour. My own flirtatious smile and enticing yet daring eyes setting a darkening in his azure gems.
I leaned in to whisper in his ear: “Deal, partner. Though I must warn you, I’ve been taking private lessons from Horace.”
A loud intake of breath and a feigned shocked expression appeared on his face.
“Oh my, you haven’t! How could you?!”
“He has a most interesting secret move, you know. Very delightful, that move of his.” I turned around, unlocking our hold of each other: “So, when do you propose we play?”
Wearing a calculated facial expression, and a half-smile, he answered in what possibly was a try for a monotone voice. It carried far too much buried laughter.
“Say, eight this evening? Would that suit you, or have you already made an appointment with professor Slughorn?”
Laughter floated once again as we both grabbed for the doorknob, sending secretive glances as our hands collided.
“Eight’s my lucky number! I couldn’t say no to such an advantage.”
Holding the door for me, I heard him mutter with a faint grin: “Slughorn! He’s not even handsome!”
“Beauty’s overrated, Albus,” I sniggered as I swayed out the door with a meaningful look. I just love seeing that fleeting look of confusion for once, plastered on his face.
*
“Check. I win.”
As a perfectionist I strive to do the best. To be the best. So, naturally, I hate losing. However being a perfectionist, I am after all the perfect loser. To lose with a winning mind.
“You did, fair and square.” I attempted to soften the curves of my smile, tried to quell the unmistakable lump of defeat stuck in my throat. Leaning back on the puffy cushion behind my spine I daringly lifted an eyebrow.
“So, Albus, what did you have in mind for my costume?”
Slipping his fingers around a goblet of wine, he sipped while appearing to be thinking, aloud he answered in a serious tone: “Dear, I haven’t had time to really consider that. You see, it has to be the perfect outfit, the perfect idea, for such a perfect lady. After all, you do want to win the prize for best dressed zombie, do you not?”
Sighing clearly I responded: “Albus, you’ve been planning this genius check-bet for the last five months, so please don’t come here and say you haven’t got an idea at all!”
“Why! I just came up with the bet yesterday, while starring at your perfect lips, dear,” he put up a sad pout, a pout that rather suited him, in a strange manner.
“I might not be as wise as you, but I’m not completely retarded-”
“I’ve never said you were, dear-”
I rolled my eyes in a very obvious fashion “So, what’s my theme for my costume?”
He cleared his throat, and spread his arms wide: “You, my dear, are going to be the most beautiful fairy the world has ever seen,” stopping for a breath he gave a reassuring grin, “I hope I don’t have to remind you that a fairy costume requires wings, cherry-red glittery wings…”
For a moment or two silence stretched awkwardly as I sat motionless giving my mind room to adjust to the fairy image.
“You know I resent pink,” was all my intelligent mind could come up with.
“Think about it, it’s not everyday you can strut around clothed in pink!” Damn him, for such a tremendous childish smile, a smile so inviting a ‘never’ would simply be out of place.
“Fine!” If it was even possible his smile became yet more bright, a sunset on a glorious morning that melted my heart. He may be intellectual, but a flobberworm would know when a woman answers ‘fine’ it’s everything but fine.
“Am I wrong in assuming your costume will be matching mine?” I asked of curiosity, and secretly to calm myself down.
“We’ll be Mr. and Mrs. Fairy,” a tooth-smile splintered his face in two, going from one ear to the other.
“Mrs Fairy?”
“Ahem, ups, I meant Miss Fairy.”
“I’m sure you did,” I teased him with a playful smirk.
“Mr. and Miss Fairy are having a most glittery affair,” this time the façade cracked, and a stifled chuckle escaped his lips.
“What about Mrs. Fairy then?”
“She doesn’t know,” he made a circle gesture with his finger at his temple and continued, “She’s not very bright, Mrs. Fairy!”
“Poor Mrs. Fairy!” My façade splintered as well, and we both began laughing uncontrollably, tears forming in our eyes.
“When will Mr. Fairy pick up Miss Fairy,” I managed to stutter between coughs and giggles.
“Five minutes past midnight, Mr. Fairy wants to be fashionably late!”
*
Bubbles of laughter, excitement and some unknown force rumbled around in my stomach and my mouth would not stop forming a sincere semicircle. Once again I gazed at my mirror, taking in my outrageous image. It was not me. It was someone else starring back at me, with a lopsided smile, and a glint in the dark eyes. I couldn’t help laughing, out of nerves that is. I hoped I wouldn’t ruin any dreams Albus had of seeing me as a pink fairy; he might need a magnifying glass to see any of that horrible colour. My doorbell chimed out through my chambers, and I stomped on my nervousness.
“Hey gorgeous,” was a line perfect for my very own pink partner. He had the same cherry wings on he had sent me with Fawkes, red tights and a long pink shirt that could qualify as a dress since it stopped before his knees. For now that would have been perfectly normal attire for Albus, but his lovable auburn hair was spiralled on top of his head and was blood red. The beard that used to reach his chest had been coloured as well, and braided with glitter. And that was not even the worst part!
“You didn’t tell me Mr. Fairy liked to wear make-up, Albus!” But he was too shocked to answer, his face had gone stony and eyes gone huge. He opened his mouth trice before he finally talked:”What happened to Miss Fairy?”
“I am Miss Fairy, silly!” I spun around to show him my costume from all angles, which only resulted in him choking on air, arms making weird gestures.
“No-no. I mean what happened to Miss Pink Fairy?” He finally managed to get out, in a horrified voice.
“Ahh, but I’m the Fairy of Death, with pink wings – see,” I spun once again to show him my wings. Really, he didn’t specify that I needed to be all pink.
“The Fairy of Death,” he said in a gruff voice, “well, you sure killed my joyous night, so you must be the Death Fairy!”
Completely ignoring his sorrowful expression, I gave him an enthusiastic peek on the mouth, and lead him in the directions of the dungeons, my steps bouncing, and his less full of life.
*
Rolanda Hooch, this evening only responding to Miss Howl, stood at the entrance to a creepy looking chamber – dusty chandeliers swinging intimidatingly from the ceiling, grey walls with cracks as big as fist and an ornamental table filled with delicious drinks, and snacks – greeting her guest with an over-eager attitude, not sure whether she should appear frightening or friendly. She decided to go on compromise, something that didn’t really go well together. So far, nearly everyone had arrived in the scariest of costumes ranking from a one-eyed monster to the little mermaid covered in fish. Poor Donna, Rolanda thought, as she looked at the short blonde mermaid standing for herself, a greenish cloud seemed to glow in an aura around her. Not anyone liked the raw smell of fish.
Just about to turn and fix herself a drink, she caught sight of something black and red coming towards her, so she narrowed her eyes and gave an over-thrilled smile.
“MeanVaaargghhh! There you are,” she waved while showing sharp teeth in a growl, “Ahh, is that Mister Antagonism Dumbledore you have with you there?”
For the first time that evening Rolanda took a step back as she got a good sight of her two colleagues. One was smiling pleasantly, the other wearing a gloomy pouting expression. One was black from head to toe, the other pink and red.
“What on earth are you supposed to be?”
“I’m the Fairy of the Death,” Minerva replied with a bow, she pointed at her partner and introduced him, “this is my archenemy, the Fairy of Sentimentality!”
“Nice going, Meanvargh! Now, please make yourself at home, entertainment will be up momentarily. We’re still waiting for Mister Slug!”
“Don’t let him hear you call him that, Ro, he’ll go ballistic!”
“It’s Miss Howl!”
Rolanda watched her friend rolling her eyes and making way for the drinks table, with The Fairy of Sentimentality at her heels, an odd glint in his eyes. She didn’t have time to watch her guest enjoying the drinks, for at that moment she noticed the last guest was arriving.
“Hey Mister Slug! Good you could come, now what an amazing costume,” she gave him the top to toe, trying to figure out how to behave, “What are you?”
*
The eerie chambers were filled to the brim with loud cheery voices, some shouting, others singing. Others again just quietly were drinking. Me, ah, I was truly bouncing around with Miss Howl on one arm, the other was busy drowning Mister Slug’s special homemade brew.
“Mister Slug! Mister Slug! Mister Slug ate a rock… la la la… Mister Dip It! Mister Dip It! Mister Dip It is a git… la la la,” beside me Miss Howl was having a blast making a song about the whole faculty.
I had discarded my pink wings a long time ago, if I remember correctly I put them on one chandelier, but at this state I’m not sure that would be right. Maybe Mr. Fairy borrowed them?
I spread my arms out wide dropping my goblet of alcohol and Miss Howl on the floor, and then I started dancing in circles, quickly loosing any sense I might have had. I have always wanted to spin around, maybe I will fly high like a fairy.
Clearly out of my mind I landed on something soft, so I decided to stay there for while. That was, until it started talking.
“McGoner, how about a little lapdance,” a slurred voice asked me.
Screaming I jumped up from the lap of Mister Slug, and fleeed as far away I could. I would have gotten a lot father if it hadn’t been for a pink wall colliding with me.
“Mr. Sentimentality,” I whispered as I leaned against his chest with a sigh, “I’ve been looking for just you!” In fact I haven’t seen him all evening, sometime around one he just disappeared.
“Have you now! What can I assist Miss Death with,” his eyes rolled around trice before they finally settled on me.
“The party is dead! My mission has been fulfilled,” I answered and lead him away from the crowd of people.
“Where are we going?” he asked as we exited the party chambers and ended up in a dark corridor, noises seeming far away.
“To Fairyland, Mr. Sensuality,” my mouth stopped forming words and instead I flung myself at my red partner, our lips meeting passionately, savagely.
*
A/N: Hmm.. Not completely satifyed with this one, but sadly I gave up trying to 'perfectionize' it. I hope that they're having a secret love affair kind of qualifies as them being a couple...
Sorry about the grammar mistakes...
Hope you liked it...
[glow=red,2,300]HAPPY HALLOWEEN EVERYONE [/glow]
Rating: 13+
A/N: Set in around the sixties.
Halloween…
Our Grotesque Annual Gathering has crept out from under the bed once again as the time nears. My fellow frighteners it’s that time again, to bring out the cobwebs of your imaginations and turn up with a dreadful mind.
Remember the dress code, or you’ll be fed to the horrible flesh-eating pumpkin-mutanto. Remember the gifts, my dear zombies.
No Booze, No entry…
See you at the magic midnight in the dungeons,
The most horrid wishes, Ro Howl
“Classy, that’s classy,” I couldn’t help my lips from forming those carefully words, wrapped in what I consider a to-the-point sarcasm. I should have anticipated this, I really should. From what I can remember, I have been by consciousness the last couple of years, and every year it’s the same drabble, written down as inelegantly as ever.
“Zoombiiess…”
“Ahem, dear. It pronounced, Zombies.”
A lean hand is caressing my shoulder discreetly, softly prodding my mind as the scent of him rushes foreward.
“’I’m quite aware of how it’s pronounced, professor Dumbledore.” Spinning around, I tactfully take a step forward, our fingers flexing in between each others, like vines crawling with the care of the sun.
“So, it seems Rolanda’s outdone herself this year, what a notice, huh,” his voice slipped around the air like treacle, caressing my skin gently along the jawline until the words reached my ears.
“Yes, Ro Howl truly has become a very frightful writer.” I graced him with a slight smile, as I leaned closer yet.
“So, picked a costume yet, my dear fellow zombie?” My rich laughter filled the room, joined by the ever jovial tones of his, a perfect tune to my ear.
“I’m working on in,” I replied as I tilted my head to one side, considering the blue gems bemusedly starring at me.
“A bet, my dear,” he said completely out of the blue, gems sparkling, mouth quivering with amusement. The art of confusion has always been his great ace. It astounds me time after time. Conversation with him is an evermore riddle, tricking you with a sweet smile.
“Professor Dumbledore, as soon as you start talking English I’ll consider whatever it is you’re trying to bestow on me.” Still our hands weave in and out, entwined by softness and an aching for more. I sincerely wished the board for staff notices had its home in any other place than the staffroom. A deserted broom closet, perhaps. His cheery chambers.
“I challenge you, my dear mouse-frightener, to a game of chess,” his warm breath fell like gently rain, warming my face with exhilaration.
“And what hidden agenda does the bet have?”
“The winner will have the utmost pleasure of deciding the costume for the loser,” an amused smile turned a sudden diabolic colour. My own flirtatious smile and enticing yet daring eyes setting a darkening in his azure gems.
I leaned in to whisper in his ear: “Deal, partner. Though I must warn you, I’ve been taking private lessons from Horace.”
A loud intake of breath and a feigned shocked expression appeared on his face.
“Oh my, you haven’t! How could you?!”
“He has a most interesting secret move, you know. Very delightful, that move of his.” I turned around, unlocking our hold of each other: “So, when do you propose we play?”
Wearing a calculated facial expression, and a half-smile, he answered in what possibly was a try for a monotone voice. It carried far too much buried laughter.
“Say, eight this evening? Would that suit you, or have you already made an appointment with professor Slughorn?”
Laughter floated once again as we both grabbed for the doorknob, sending secretive glances as our hands collided.
“Eight’s my lucky number! I couldn’t say no to such an advantage.”
Holding the door for me, I heard him mutter with a faint grin: “Slughorn! He’s not even handsome!”
“Beauty’s overrated, Albus,” I sniggered as I swayed out the door with a meaningful look. I just love seeing that fleeting look of confusion for once, plastered on his face.
*
“Check. I win.”
As a perfectionist I strive to do the best. To be the best. So, naturally, I hate losing. However being a perfectionist, I am after all the perfect loser. To lose with a winning mind.
“You did, fair and square.” I attempted to soften the curves of my smile, tried to quell the unmistakable lump of defeat stuck in my throat. Leaning back on the puffy cushion behind my spine I daringly lifted an eyebrow.
“So, Albus, what did you have in mind for my costume?”
Slipping his fingers around a goblet of wine, he sipped while appearing to be thinking, aloud he answered in a serious tone: “Dear, I haven’t had time to really consider that. You see, it has to be the perfect outfit, the perfect idea, for such a perfect lady. After all, you do want to win the prize for best dressed zombie, do you not?”
Sighing clearly I responded: “Albus, you’ve been planning this genius check-bet for the last five months, so please don’t come here and say you haven’t got an idea at all!”
“Why! I just came up with the bet yesterday, while starring at your perfect lips, dear,” he put up a sad pout, a pout that rather suited him, in a strange manner.
“I might not be as wise as you, but I’m not completely retarded-”
“I’ve never said you were, dear-”
I rolled my eyes in a very obvious fashion “So, what’s my theme for my costume?”
He cleared his throat, and spread his arms wide: “You, my dear, are going to be the most beautiful fairy the world has ever seen,” stopping for a breath he gave a reassuring grin, “I hope I don’t have to remind you that a fairy costume requires wings, cherry-red glittery wings…”
For a moment or two silence stretched awkwardly as I sat motionless giving my mind room to adjust to the fairy image.
“You know I resent pink,” was all my intelligent mind could come up with.
“Think about it, it’s not everyday you can strut around clothed in pink!” Damn him, for such a tremendous childish smile, a smile so inviting a ‘never’ would simply be out of place.
“Fine!” If it was even possible his smile became yet more bright, a sunset on a glorious morning that melted my heart. He may be intellectual, but a flobberworm would know when a woman answers ‘fine’ it’s everything but fine.
“Am I wrong in assuming your costume will be matching mine?” I asked of curiosity, and secretly to calm myself down.
“We’ll be Mr. and Mrs. Fairy,” a tooth-smile splintered his face in two, going from one ear to the other.
“Mrs Fairy?”
“Ahem, ups, I meant Miss Fairy.”
“I’m sure you did,” I teased him with a playful smirk.
“Mr. and Miss Fairy are having a most glittery affair,” this time the façade cracked, and a stifled chuckle escaped his lips.
“What about Mrs. Fairy then?”
“She doesn’t know,” he made a circle gesture with his finger at his temple and continued, “She’s not very bright, Mrs. Fairy!”
“Poor Mrs. Fairy!” My façade splintered as well, and we both began laughing uncontrollably, tears forming in our eyes.
“When will Mr. Fairy pick up Miss Fairy,” I managed to stutter between coughs and giggles.
“Five minutes past midnight, Mr. Fairy wants to be fashionably late!”
*
Bubbles of laughter, excitement and some unknown force rumbled around in my stomach and my mouth would not stop forming a sincere semicircle. Once again I gazed at my mirror, taking in my outrageous image. It was not me. It was someone else starring back at me, with a lopsided smile, and a glint in the dark eyes. I couldn’t help laughing, out of nerves that is. I hoped I wouldn’t ruin any dreams Albus had of seeing me as a pink fairy; he might need a magnifying glass to see any of that horrible colour. My doorbell chimed out through my chambers, and I stomped on my nervousness.
“Hey gorgeous,” was a line perfect for my very own pink partner. He had the same cherry wings on he had sent me with Fawkes, red tights and a long pink shirt that could qualify as a dress since it stopped before his knees. For now that would have been perfectly normal attire for Albus, but his lovable auburn hair was spiralled on top of his head and was blood red. The beard that used to reach his chest had been coloured as well, and braided with glitter. And that was not even the worst part!
“You didn’t tell me Mr. Fairy liked to wear make-up, Albus!” But he was too shocked to answer, his face had gone stony and eyes gone huge. He opened his mouth trice before he finally talked:”What happened to Miss Fairy?”
“I am Miss Fairy, silly!” I spun around to show him my costume from all angles, which only resulted in him choking on air, arms making weird gestures.
“No-no. I mean what happened to Miss Pink Fairy?” He finally managed to get out, in a horrified voice.
“Ahh, but I’m the Fairy of Death, with pink wings – see,” I spun once again to show him my wings. Really, he didn’t specify that I needed to be all pink.
“The Fairy of Death,” he said in a gruff voice, “well, you sure killed my joyous night, so you must be the Death Fairy!”
Completely ignoring his sorrowful expression, I gave him an enthusiastic peek on the mouth, and lead him in the directions of the dungeons, my steps bouncing, and his less full of life.
*
Rolanda Hooch, this evening only responding to Miss Howl, stood at the entrance to a creepy looking chamber – dusty chandeliers swinging intimidatingly from the ceiling, grey walls with cracks as big as fist and an ornamental table filled with delicious drinks, and snacks – greeting her guest with an over-eager attitude, not sure whether she should appear frightening or friendly. She decided to go on compromise, something that didn’t really go well together. So far, nearly everyone had arrived in the scariest of costumes ranking from a one-eyed monster to the little mermaid covered in fish. Poor Donna, Rolanda thought, as she looked at the short blonde mermaid standing for herself, a greenish cloud seemed to glow in an aura around her. Not anyone liked the raw smell of fish.
Just about to turn and fix herself a drink, she caught sight of something black and red coming towards her, so she narrowed her eyes and gave an over-thrilled smile.
“MeanVaaargghhh! There you are,” she waved while showing sharp teeth in a growl, “Ahh, is that Mister Antagonism Dumbledore you have with you there?”
For the first time that evening Rolanda took a step back as she got a good sight of her two colleagues. One was smiling pleasantly, the other wearing a gloomy pouting expression. One was black from head to toe, the other pink and red.
“What on earth are you supposed to be?”
“I’m the Fairy of the Death,” Minerva replied with a bow, she pointed at her partner and introduced him, “this is my archenemy, the Fairy of Sentimentality!”
“Nice going, Meanvargh! Now, please make yourself at home, entertainment will be up momentarily. We’re still waiting for Mister Slug!”
“Don’t let him hear you call him that, Ro, he’ll go ballistic!”
“It’s Miss Howl!”
Rolanda watched her friend rolling her eyes and making way for the drinks table, with The Fairy of Sentimentality at her heels, an odd glint in his eyes. She didn’t have time to watch her guest enjoying the drinks, for at that moment she noticed the last guest was arriving.
“Hey Mister Slug! Good you could come, now what an amazing costume,” she gave him the top to toe, trying to figure out how to behave, “What are you?”
*
The eerie chambers were filled to the brim with loud cheery voices, some shouting, others singing. Others again just quietly were drinking. Me, ah, I was truly bouncing around with Miss Howl on one arm, the other was busy drowning Mister Slug’s special homemade brew.
“Mister Slug! Mister Slug! Mister Slug ate a rock… la la la… Mister Dip It! Mister Dip It! Mister Dip It is a git… la la la,” beside me Miss Howl was having a blast making a song about the whole faculty.
I had discarded my pink wings a long time ago, if I remember correctly I put them on one chandelier, but at this state I’m not sure that would be right. Maybe Mr. Fairy borrowed them?
I spread my arms out wide dropping my goblet of alcohol and Miss Howl on the floor, and then I started dancing in circles, quickly loosing any sense I might have had. I have always wanted to spin around, maybe I will fly high like a fairy.
Clearly out of my mind I landed on something soft, so I decided to stay there for while. That was, until it started talking.
“McGoner, how about a little lapdance,” a slurred voice asked me.
Screaming I jumped up from the lap of Mister Slug, and fleeed as far away I could. I would have gotten a lot father if it hadn’t been for a pink wall colliding with me.
“Mr. Sentimentality,” I whispered as I leaned against his chest with a sigh, “I’ve been looking for just you!” In fact I haven’t seen him all evening, sometime around one he just disappeared.
“Have you now! What can I assist Miss Death with,” his eyes rolled around trice before they finally settled on me.
“The party is dead! My mission has been fulfilled,” I answered and lead him away from the crowd of people.
“Where are we going?” he asked as we exited the party chambers and ended up in a dark corridor, noises seeming far away.
“To Fairyland, Mr. Sensuality,” my mouth stopped forming words and instead I flung myself at my red partner, our lips meeting passionately, savagely.
*
A/N: Hmm.. Not completely satifyed with this one, but sadly I gave up trying to 'perfectionize' it. I hope that they're having a secret love affair kind of qualifies as them being a couple...
Sorry about the grammar mistakes...Hope you liked it...
[glow=red,2,300]HAPPY HALLOWEEN EVERYONE [/glow]
