Kiss me at midnight
Dec. 30th, 2004 09:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
skoosiepantsNow that Long-hidden Skies Chapter Eight is done, I've given my muse free rein in the realm of crackfic again. And Ginny and Draco are along for the ride. It's humor meets cliche meets fluff meets crack. Here's a snippet of the first part.
***
“You can’t think I’m happy about this,” she growled, leaning over the edge of the building and gazing down at the black-capped head below. He was sitting on a bench, hands clasped loosely in his lap, scuffing a shoe on the pavement as he watched people pass him by.
The blond next to her arched a skeptical brow. “I would have thought you’d be dancing with glee. You get to touch your precious Potter again,” he spat.
“Touching,” she said primly, straightening up to glare at him, “is strictly forbidden.”
He smirked. “And we both know how well you follow rules.”
Her eyes narrowed even more. “Keep going, Malfoy,” she dared him.
“Didn’t Anael say this was your last chance, Weasley?” He clucked his tongue.
“Look,” she bit out through clenched teeth, “that Corner disaster was not my fault. And the auto was,” she waved a hand, “right there and it was a split-second reaction and—“ She cut off abruptly, aware that she didn’t have to explain herself to Malfoy, of all creatures, and that at least her heart had been in the right place. So what if it’d been the bloke’s time? She just couldn’t help throwing herself into the fray when she sensed danger afoot. Gryffindoric tendencies apparently didn’t fade very much with the onslaught of death.
Neither, though, did Malfoy’s penchant for taunting and biting comments. How he ever made it to Heaven was beyond Ginny, but she certainly wasn’t going to approach Michael about it. As Malfoy so loved to point out, she was in enough trouble with the higher ups as it was.
“Hate to have you demoted from the Love Squad,” he sneered, clearly not happy that he was working under the angel of romance; although, according to the girls at the salon, he’d been at this job longer than anyone else. Anael tended to have a high turn-over, as it took a special sort of ghost to make two people fall in love.
Malfoy seemed to have the knack.
“What are you giggling about, Weasley? Think this is hilarious, do you?”
“That you’re in charge of Harry’s happily-ever-after? Yes,” she laughed, tossing her hair over her shoulder, “yes, I do.”
***
Oh, what fun I'm going to have with this!
Annoying tagline reminder: January is the Month of Ron! Please send me your recs, endorsements, random fits of inspiration.
***
“You can’t think I’m happy about this,” she growled, leaning over the edge of the building and gazing down at the black-capped head below. He was sitting on a bench, hands clasped loosely in his lap, scuffing a shoe on the pavement as he watched people pass him by.
The blond next to her arched a skeptical brow. “I would have thought you’d be dancing with glee. You get to touch your precious Potter again,” he spat.
“Touching,” she said primly, straightening up to glare at him, “is strictly forbidden.”
He smirked. “And we both know how well you follow rules.”
Her eyes narrowed even more. “Keep going, Malfoy,” she dared him.
“Didn’t Anael say this was your last chance, Weasley?” He clucked his tongue.
“Look,” she bit out through clenched teeth, “that Corner disaster was not my fault. And the auto was,” she waved a hand, “right there and it was a split-second reaction and—“ She cut off abruptly, aware that she didn’t have to explain herself to Malfoy, of all creatures, and that at least her heart had been in the right place. So what if it’d been the bloke’s time? She just couldn’t help throwing herself into the fray when she sensed danger afoot. Gryffindoric tendencies apparently didn’t fade very much with the onslaught of death.
Neither, though, did Malfoy’s penchant for taunting and biting comments. How he ever made it to Heaven was beyond Ginny, but she certainly wasn’t going to approach Michael about it. As Malfoy so loved to point out, she was in enough trouble with the higher ups as it was.
“Hate to have you demoted from the Love Squad,” he sneered, clearly not happy that he was working under the angel of romance; although, according to the girls at the salon, he’d been at this job longer than anyone else. Anael tended to have a high turn-over, as it took a special sort of ghost to make two people fall in love.
Malfoy seemed to have the knack.
“What are you giggling about, Weasley? Think this is hilarious, do you?”
“That you’re in charge of Harry’s happily-ever-after? Yes,” she laughed, tossing her hair over her shoulder, “yes, I do.”
***
Oh, what fun I'm going to have with this!
Annoying tagline reminder: January is the Month of Ron! Please send me your recs, endorsements, random fits of inspiration.
