Gift Drabble! "Short Stories," H/L, 500 Words

[amanuensis1]

Squee! notuilion just showed up one day and said, "Here, since you were whimpering that you didn't have time, here are all your KR drabbles, all coded and ready for upload to your website." !!!!!!!!

So, dear notuilion, I offered you a drabble as thanks; you said, "I like Lucius," so I went to this week's Dictionary Drabble on Beloved Enemies. I went for a sort of abstract version of the word's definition. Hope you like!


The word:
florilegium: a collection of excerpts; an anthology of short pieces.



Title: Short Stories. 500 words. Harry/Lucius.

---

Ten objects on a table.

Lucius does not quite hold his breath as the boy stares at them. It looks so very like the memory game of old. And oh, it is a memory game, but nothing like the one most are familiar with.

He does not dare to look at Voldemort as Potter touches the first item.

A white owl feather.

--"Consider it a birthday present, child," says Lucius Malfoy, smiling as Harry takes the owl's cage from him, too overcome to speak--

A remembrall.

--"Father thinks you'd make a fine Seeker," says Draco Malfoy, tossing it in the air. "Go on, give it a try!" Harry's best friend gives the glass sphere a healthy throw, and Harry is already off after it--

A thick emerald green jumper.

--"these wet things off you before you freeze..." and strong hands are pulling the rain-soaked jumper over Harry's head, and wrap a throw about his shoulders, still warm from the hearth--

A water-warped black book with a ragged hole through the middle.

--"can try again some other day, Harry." Lucius puts the ruined book upon the small table next to his armchair, and draws Harry onto his lap--

Splinters from a broomstick.

--"never mind what it cost me," Harry says fiercely, refusing to be moved from Lucius's hospital bedside. "I got you out of there and you're going to be all right and that's what matters"--

A square of worn parchment with nothing written upon it.

--Harry bends low, and whispers, "The Dark Lord will rise again," and the blank parchment becomes a map--

An empty butterbeer bottle.

--"enough of that for one night," Lucius says, but he's smiling, and Harry says, "Haven't either," and he's never felt so bold as he leans in close to the older man--

A tiny gold hourglass on a chain.

--"can't have you losing either sleep or study time to come here at night, now can I?" says Lucius, and Harry sits up, letting the sheet fall to his waist as he reaches for it--

A golden egg.

--"how to open it, then take what's inside and put it on. And wait for me." Lucius leans closer. "Naked, of course. And don't you dare touch yourself." Harry shivers--

A long, thin black quill with an unusually sharp point.

--on his thigh, right there, not more than an inch from his cock, and Harry doesn't know whether it will be the point or the feather edge this time, and it doesn't matter, as long as Lucius doesn't stop, doesn't stop, doesn't stop--

Harry looks up from the table, and moves around it to stand before Lucius.

Touches his shoulder lightly and kisses him. "I've missed you. When did I get here? I can't quite remember."

Voldemort chuckles. "Nicely done, my friend. Very well, you may keep him."

Potter's head tucked comfortably under his chin, Lucius smiles.



-fin

Comments

[notuilion.livejournal.com]

De nada. Really, I enjoyed it. Was just overjoyed to find something I could help with. If you enjoyed writing this half as much... I can suddenly see why we've started a mutual admiration society, milady.

And -- as promised, now that I've had time to think -- some thoughts. For one, there's the sense that this is a tiny window on a vast universe. I'd say most of your drabbles do that. They're concentrated moments in time, which conjure up pasts and futures if you let them. And this is almost more so -- it's a longer piece, but because it's a collection of related moments, each one individually is shorter. Compressing a scene into a sentence fragment is just plain impressive. I know one other person who writes with that kind of skill, used to work with him, and now give glowing (even fangirly) references on demand.

Thematically it seems very Matrix-y. If we can't believe our own memories, what can we believe? Is there such a thing as Truth at all? And if so, when do we have it: in the raw emotion and sensation at the time, or later on with the benefit of hindsight and detachment? When we rewrite our own memories, which everyone does if only by choosing to remember some things and forget others, which version is real? Or are they both real, or neither?

The sense that inevitably Harry will find his real memory again just makes me wonder how he'll react. By that time, he'll have three entirely different sets of memories -- the false ones Lucius creates here, the original set they replace, and the set of experiences from this day forward. That last set is interesting; based on false premises, but real memories nonetheless. I can see the Matrix hacker's "give me the damn red pill already" reaction, but there's also the possibility that Harry will find a new life, a fragile happiness, and want to protect it. That seeing Ron or Hermione again could bring back memories of his life as we know it in canon, and from his perspective this might be terribly unfortunate. It's Harry's choice between a reality that will break him and a comfortable delusion, and it's hard to say which choice is right and which is wrong.

Um. Yeah. I overanalyze because I love, I promise.

Oh -- and hot. Can't say I ever described the existential search for meaning as 'hot' before.

[amanuensis1.livejournal.com]

*is giddy* All that, in 500 words!

Gulp. This gives me a sense of, "Careful what you say in just a few words--there's way more there than in just those words, so, write responsibly." I shall endeavor. ^_^