My 100 Prompts Collected Works

[osusprinks]

I have a feeling there is still a rogue snitch out there somewhere. Great job!

[childminerva]

ha ha, poor guys...scarred for life I bet

cute piece!

[laundry basket]

Prompt #28: Children


Minerva McGonagall Dumbledore had alot to do these days: keeping track of nine hundred hormonal teenagers, grading papers day and night, and keeping a curious five-year-old busy and clean. However, lately the thing that had been consuming her time the most was trying to hide her ever growing stomach from her staff, students, and daughter. She had thought she was doing a pretty good job.
She had under-estimated the latter.

"Mummy, are you going to have a baby?"

Minerva turned from where she had been drying her hair, groaning inwardly. The kid really was smarter than she or Albus gave her credit for. Well, there was no use to lie to the child.

"Yes, Lucy, dear. I'm going to have a baby," she said tentatively, anticipating the reaction she would receive. Lucy thought for a moment, tugging on an auburn curl.

"Mummy, where do babies come from?" she asked, emerald eyes wide with innocence.

The comb that Minerva had been pulling through her damp hair clattered to the floor. Oh, no, no, no. She did not just ask that.

"I asked the old people in the picture's in Daddy's office yesterday," Lucy continued, oblivious to her mother's horror. "Mister Phineaus said that you bought me in Diagon Alley. Did you, Mummy?"

For a moment Minerva thought of telling her daughter that yes, she had bought her in Diagon Alley, for half price too, but scolded herself quickly.

She'd just be honest.

"Well, dear, you- er, you- you see, when two people love each other...erm...the...the stork brought you," she finished lamely, hoping Lucy would but that explanation. Minerva waited breathlessly as her daughter contemplated this knew and strange idea.

"Oh. Well, okay. I hope the stork brings me a little brother," she announced, running from the room. Minerva sighed thankfully and collapsed against her chair.

"The stork? Now, my mother always insisted I came from an egg," a voice said cheekily from the doorway. Minerva scowled at her husband.

"What did you expect me to do? Like I'm going to tell her the truth. Now, if you'll excuse me, Phineaus and I have something to discuss..."

[furandfeathers]

*snickers* half price....that made me laugh. Great response to the prompt!

[osusprinks]

That was hilarious! Lucy was cute. lol

[EloquentPhoenix]

Oh my God. Lol! Poor Min. Can you imagine... Aww Lucy was darling. Hehe the stork. Albus was useless as ever.

[laundry basket]

Prompt #19- White

A/N: This was floating around in my head days and days before I finally got along to writing it... it's based on my own experiences, so I suppose I'm just venting about washing machines ;D


When Minerva McGonagall left for the park with her daughter early one summer morning, she had left only one instruction for her husband:

do the laundry.

And that was why Albus Dumbledore, universally recognized wizard, head chief of the Wizengamot, receiver of an Order of Merlin, First Class, and defeater of Grindlewald, was standing in front of a washer without a clue in the world.

"She's only punishing me for buying her that box of catnip," he thought, "but did she really have to take my wand? That was just low." Deciding he should just get it over with, he tried to remember how Minerva did this.

"She separates the clothes first," he muttered. "Alright. I can do that." Grasping the basket of dirty clothes, he proceeded to dump them unceremoniousley on the floor. "Right. Whites and colours. It's easy."

It was, however, not that easy.

"You know what? I don't care anymore. This is going in this pile, whether it likes it or not," he announced several minutes later, flinging the red bra into the pile of whites. "Ah. Finished."

He then began searching for the detergent Minerva poured into the machine. Finding two different bottles, however, was the dilemma.

"Well... this one smells like lilac, and this one smells like vanilla. They're both rather nice. I'll just use them both," he decided, carefully measuring out one cup of each. "There. I'm sure Min will like it. It smells rather pleasant, if I do say so myself." After throwing all of the white clothing into the washer, he realized it would probably be of help to start the water as well.

"Alright then, I can't be too difficult. Now, do I want hot or cold water? Er... I don't suppose it really matters all that much, does it? Water's water. Cold then. Is my load super sized? It is rather big, but perhaps it's only medium. There we are. Now, how long shall I wash them? Oh, really, must they make this so difficult? I don't think even Merlin could figure out this machine," he said disapprovingly, kicking the washer grumpily. To his great surprise, it roared to life and began churning out water. He quickly slammed the lid shut and breathed a great sigh of relief.

"At least that's over with..."

He was, however, dreadfully wrong.

Around a half hour later he heard a strange frothing and swishing sound coming from the laundry room. Marking his page in the book he was reading, he opened the door and stopped dead in his tracks. Both washer and dryer where hidden underneath piles and piles of yellow suds.

Obviously he had done something wrong.

"Bloody hell!" he cried, trying and failing to find the stop button amidst all the bubbles. After attempting this for several minutes, Albus finally gave up and sat dejectedly on top of the sudsy lid of the washing machine.

"Perhaps I should just call Minerva," he muttered. "She'd know what to do."

At that moment the front door slammed, and a small voice yelled out, "Daddy, we home!"

"Oh, the irony," he thought sadistically as he hurried out of the room to greeted his wife.

"Hello dearest!" Albus said warmly and kissed Minerva soundly on the mouth. They broke apart only when their auburn-haired daughter wrinkled her nose at them and said, "Ew."

Laughing, Minerva took her daughter by the hand and led her through the kitchen. "I just need her white dress from the laundry room, we're going out to eat tonight-"

"NO!" Albus yelled frantically, diving in front of the door. "You can't go in there. It's, er... poisonous." His wife raised her eyebrow.

"What have you done?"

"Nothing! It's just a bit, erm, messy," he finished lamely, still guarding the door. "You'd hate it, Min. I'll clean it up, if you'll just give me...my...wand," he said slowly, reaching for her robe pocket. Slapping his hand away, she squared her shoulders and shoved him to the side.

"I think I can handle it, Albus," she said icily, and threw open the door.

"Oh. My. God."

"Yay, bubbly!" yelled the young girl, rushing straight into the suds. Minerva slapped a hand over her eyes as though in horror.

"I sort of messed it up a bit," Albus explained weakly. "Too much detergent...."

Minerva just groaned.


*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

An hour later all the bubbles were gone (Minerva had insisted Albus clean it the Muggle way), and Minerva was magickly folding laundry.

"Albus... why are all my bras pink?"

[osusprinks]

That was funny. I could just see it! lol Thanks for sharing.

[laundry basket]

A/N: Wow, I actually surprised myself with this one. I never do poems (asides from the occasional, "The bird was in the tree... it sang to me..." ) But this adorable bunny invaded my mind last night and refused to leave- I swear, half my brain is filled with bunnies screaming, "Write me!" Lol, but maybe I'd better get on with it.

Prompt #1: Beginnings

There was a time of long ago
When everything was fine
The ladies wore corsets and jewels
And sundaes cost a dime

One girl in particular
Stood out from all the rest
Her's was a powerful presence
That shook the very best

She had ebony hair and emerald green eyes
A beauty of her day, for sure
Sixteen years old and already told
Of marriage and a family and more

Her parents wanted her to wed
A banker who owned half the land
Or maybe the farmer with hundreds of acres
Perhaps even the merchant man

Behind her cool gaze was an intelligent mind
She knew what she wanted, for certain
Not money nor jewels, nor fancy clothes
She wanted the man behind the curtain

No one payed attention to him
He was eighty years older than she!
He'd been her professor, it was the most scandalous thing
That this town had ever seen

She loved this man, and he loved her
It was simple, they couldn't ignore it
They married young, her parents didn't come
They didn't understand it one bit

Their's was a pure love, and that's hard to find
In times of long ago
Her prince's name was Dumbledore
And her's, McGonagall.

[osusprinks]

that was incredibly lovely! I wish I could write like that. Thank you for sharing!

[Drake]

I hate laundry too.

Then again, who dosen't?

Loved the fic and poem, however.

[StormAngel]

love both!!!!! I assure you people, I'm here. Just that I have too many things to do

[twinkle]

I loved the story about the laundry and the one where they were trapped in this little room! Just great!!!

Whenever any other bunny decides to pop out of your head: I'll be here to read the story!!!

[laundry basket]

A/N: Ahaha! I finally got another prompt done! Woohoo! Took me long enough. Thank you all for your reviews. This is an angsty one (cringe) and was inspired by the death of my step-grandmother.

Prompt #20: Colourless
____________________________________________________

The world is going dark.

It never used to be that way. It used to be full of colour, wonderful swirling hues of yellow, red, and blue. But ever since his death, it's becoming

colourless.

She imagined that inside her mind, there was a special part that assigned colour to objects. And when she realized that her husband of forty seven years lay dead on the ground, it had simply stopped working. The grief had overwhelmed it, shutting it down.

And now the world was colourless.

She sat in her office, staring out of the window glinting with the first rays of sunlight. Except, the rays were grey. The apple tree outside, it was grey too. And the once shimmering blue lake, now dulled to a dark brown.

Monotony.

Grey, brown, black. Sliding over and under each other, creating paralells and illusions. It was almost too much to take. There was only one thing, now, that remained coloured. It shined brilliantly under the soft light, the gold shimmered and, she was amazed to find, could project rainbows if aimed correctly.

The center was a circle of white, not lifeless white like that around her, but a shining white that took her vision away momentarily. By it's side were two more circles of emerald,

the exact shade of her eyes,

that had been chosen special.

And she wrapped the light around her finger, a beacon of hope in her colourless world.

No, she would never get rid of her wedding ring.

[osusprinks]

Yes it was angst, but at the same time it wasn't. I wasn't left with a sense of sadness, but with hope for her. This was beautiful. I loved this: "Grey, brown, black. Sliding over and under each other, creating paralells and illusions. It was almost too much to take." It was all excellent, LB! Thanks for sharing!

[StormAngel]

I love this! Its really really wonderful

[twinkle]

This so very sad but beautiful at the same time.
I liked it (though I seldom like sad stories).

[laundry basket]

Once again... thank you guys a bajillion for you comments. Yes, I just used the word 'bajillion' as I seem to have reverted to age six

So, this is a songfic that is already posted in the songfic section, but I was looking through the prompts and I was like, "omigosh... I could totally use this as a response!" And I was so happy. Wooh!
____________________________________________________

Prompt #94: Independence

Miss independent
Miss self-sufficient
Miss keep your distance, no
Miss on her own
Miss almost grown
Miss never let a man help her off her throne

Minerva McGonagall had never been exactly eager to cuddle and kiss and do all of those other things that people generally did with their boyfriends. It had just seemed silly to her when she was at school, even downright ridiculous, watching all of her room mates spending hours on their hair and makeup to please boys. Even now, when some of her staff mates were primping themselves to go out when the children had Hogsemeade weekends, she never joined them. Who needed a man to dictate her happiness?

So, by keeping her heart protected
She'd never ever feel rejected
Little miss apprehensive
Said ooh, she fell in love

It was only years later, when she had passed her prime, that she finally realized- she was lonely. The realization had taken her quite by surprise. She had been sitting comfortably in her bed reading when an owl had dropped a piece of post in her lap. As she opened it a letter slid out, with the McGonagall crest stamped upon the thick parchment. Unfolding it, a photograph fell onto the bed as well. It was picture of her parents, now long dead. Quickly she scanned the letter; her brother had been cleaning out his attic and had found books upon books of photo's. He had sent her one of their mother and father, taken on their wedding day.
They had both looked radiant. Her mother's dark hair was spilling down the back of her white dress, and her father held her hand, his blue eyes shining. They both waved from the faded photo. Her mother brushed a bit of her father's ink black hair from his eyes, and he laughed. Pulling his new wife farther back onto the dance floor, he spun her around, grinning. They both turned toward the camera and smiled, enjoying the attention.
In her present-day bedroom, Minerva's eyes misted. It must have been nice, she thought, to have someone love you like that. For there to be no judgments or jumping-to-conclusions. For there to be honesty and happiness.
Trying desperately to shake off the feeling, she carefully stood the photo against her flickering lamp. Glancing at it once more, she grabbed her tartan dressing gown and wand, shoved her feet into slippers, and opened the door to the hallway. Stepping onto the cold floors of Hogwarts, she thought again about her parents. As she strolled farther along the dark corridors, her mind kept wandering back to the same subject...love. Was there really such a thing?

"If there is, it's not for me," she murmured as she passed a snoring portrait. Minerva thought back to the last time she had had a boyfriend, and found she had to remember at least thirty years before, when she had been a young woman of forty. Even now she couldn't recall the man's name, and could barely remember his face. After that, teaching had become her main interest, and she had no time for the childish giggling about the latest man of her friends.
She shook her head and then instantly regretted it- she would need a headache potion soon. However, she continued walking down the corridors, trying as best she could to ignore the throbbing pain in her temples. As she rounded a sharp corner, Minerva was surprised to find herself pressed against something warm and soft instead of the bitter, harsh air. It would be nice to stay like this awhile, in this nice comforting place...

"Minerva?"

She jumped back, managing to effectively topple herself to the ground. "Bloody brilliant," she thought sarcastically as she stared up into the face of Albus Dumbledore.

What is the feelin' takin' over?
Thinkin' no one could open the door
Surprise...It's time
To feel what's real

Minerva found that a heated blush was creeping across her face as she scrambled up, and was for once thankful for the dim light of the corridors.

"Hello Albus. What are you doing up so late?" she asked in what she hoped was a nonchalant tone, but felt that she had failed miserably. Why was she doing this? What was wrong with her? She smiled to reinforce the casualness of their meeting. He quirked an eyebrow at her before smiling gently himself.

"I was simply taking a midnight stroll. I do that often when I have a lot on my mind."
Wondering briefly what was troubling him, she was about to ask when he beat her to it.

"And why are you out and about at such an hour? I thought you would be needing your beauty sleep; of course, you wouldn't need much," he said, eyes twinkling from above her. Minerva's mind raced- what in the hell did that mean? Oh, the old man was driving her insane! She flushed again, hating herself for it. Why did she have to be attracted to him? She didn't need any man.

What happened to miss independent?
No more the need for me to miss him
Goodbye on you
Real love, true love is

Oooh...

"Would you like to join me for a bite to eat in the kitchens?" he asked politely. "I find a spot to eat helps me to forget my troubles for a while." Minerva found herself nodding along to his suggestion, much as she despised herself.

"That sounds wonderful, Albus," she told him, despite the screaming voice in her head- "You bloody idiot! Now see what you've gone and done? You're going to go nuts around him! Bloody hell!" They walked along in a comfortable silence in which Minerva battled with the seemingly unanswerable question- Miss Independent or Mrs. Dumbledore?
As they reached a large portrait of a bowl of fruit, Albus tickled the pear lightly. The picture swung open, revealing a sparkling kitchen stocked with food. Stepping into the room, Albus offered Minerva his hand to help her up. She accepted with a smile, but the war inside her was still raging. They pulled up chairs at a plain white table in the far corner, and instantly a house elf appeared with a crack in front of them.

"Can Mimmie be's of help to the Professor Headmaster and Missus Minerva?" her small voice squeaked as she rocked anxiously on the balls of her long feet. Albus smiled at her and said gently, "It is all right, Mimmie. We can serve ourselves." The elf gasped at the statement, and her eyes filled to the brim with tears. Minerva resisted the incredibly strong urge to roll her eyes.

"Mimmie dear, Headmaster Dumbledore and I would like to get our own food. It would make us very happy to get our own food," she told the whimpering elf slowly, who nodded before sniffling once more and disappearing with another crack.

"Alone at last," Albus murmured, whipping out his wand.

Miss independent walked away
I'm so glad I finally feel...

What is the feelin' takin' over?
Thinkin' no one could open the door
Surprise (surprise), it's time
To feel (to feel) what's real

He waved it majestically over the table, and instantly a smooth black table cloth covered it, and on the cloth stood two tall red candles. Minerva fought hard to stay in place, even though her feet were begging her to run away. Why did this have to happen now? She wasn't even sure. Oh, who was she kidding? Of course she was... right? She thought frantically- this was the moment of truth; did she love him? No, of course not, she didn't need love.
As soon as this thought had whizzed across her brain, she became aware of a soft hand upon her own. Looking up, Albus' face was surely much closer than it had been a few moments ago. And that was bad? She tried to remind herself why it was so, but seemed to have become very distracted by the pair of lips now inches away from her own. Closing the gap between them, Minerva had only one though in mind.
Who needed Miss Independent?

What happened to miss independent?
No one more the need for me to miss him
Goodbye on you
Real love, true love is
Real...

[osusprinks]

I loved this when first read it and it wasn't almost better this time since I knew what was coming. So great. I loved the "Miss Independent or Mrs. Dumbledore" thought. Thanks for sharing, LB!

[Katheryn Mae]

These are amazing! I was planning to start my own soon but now I've gotten ideas - from being home sick and spending hours on here. I love the last one though ... I knew I'd heard that song before. Now I added it to my playlist of MMADness songs" - and yes, I have a whole playlist. Of 25 songs. And also the "Miss Independent or Mrs. Dumbledore" thought keeps going trough my head ... I love that line and the song. ;D

[Sparrabether]

These are fantastic! I like the funny ones best.

[~Aly~]

I love them ^_^

~Aly