A Lar by any other name

Title: I'd Like an Answer if You Have One
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Charlie Weasley/Nymphadora Tonks
Word Count: 211
Prompt: for scaratthedisco who asked for Charlie/Tonks - naughty or nice for the first_order Drabble-A-Thon


"Charlie," Tonks whispers from her position on the tree limb nearly a foot above the ground. She tries not to think about the fact that there's been a heavy freeze and falling will result in, at the very least, deep bruising. While she tries not to move, her brain is working overtime so that she has to say something or she'll explode.

There's a rustle below her. "No talking, Tonks."

"Either I talk or I move. Can't have both at the same time."

"Fine. Talk."

"Do you like a girl who's naughty? Or nice?"

The expected spluttering makes her giggle but she stifles the urge to laugh out loud. It's a question intended to render him speechless, but she's been too embarrassed to ask him when they're face to face. The problem is that she thinks she knows the answer already. It never hurts to have it confirmed.

"You're going to be the death of me, Tonks."

The giggles turn to shivers. "I had a dream that you were the death of me," she whispers so softly he can't possibly hear her. She's no longer eager to continue this line of conversation and allows the silence to swallow up her fear as they continue to wait for the Death Eaters to appear.



Title: So Close is Not So Good
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Caradoc Dearborn/Dorcas Meadows
Word Count: 315
Prompt: for deathlydragon who asked for Caradoc/Dorcas - following orders for the first_order Drabble-A-Thon


Her flat palm connected with his cheek with such violence that Caradoc lost his balance and fell to the ground in a heap of rage and embarrassment. "What was that for?"

Dorcas stared at him as if she couldn't figure out why he was on the ground. She looked over at her hand, trying to place why it was up in the air and not in her pocket where her hands normally stayed when she was around people. "What?"

"I asked if you'd heard about the new assignments and you," he pointed to his stinging cheek, "slapped me like I'd cursed at you. Should I take that as a 'no, I haven't' or are you upset with me?"

"I'm not sleeping well," she mumbled, lowering her hand so it didn't mock her. The insomnia wasn't going to go away if she kept doing stupid things. This was turning into a problem if she was going to take petty shots at the other Order members. Before she thought better of it, she reached out a hand to help him up. The only problem with that was that she let go as soon as he took hold, her skin tingling from the tiny bit of contact. A single thought filtered through her subconscious - odd. He meant her, of course.

"Was bruising me first a way of following orders? I know Edgar wants my hide for screwing things up last week but this is getting painful." Caradoc hefted himself up off the floor. Instead of massaging either of his new injuries, he was flexing the hand she'd held. "You're rather staticy."

"Pardon?"

"Your hand. It shocked me. Like you'd been dragging your feet on some carpet."

She ducked her head and backed up. No one had ever felt the sting of contact before. "Sorry," she murmured and turned away. It was time to get some distance.