HP FIC: dolls (1/1)
30 Jan 2007 12:33 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kangeikoI - yeah. Bed-time, bethinks.
FIC: dolls (1/1)
SUMMARY: Lavender and Hermione and extra-curricular credit.
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing.
*
dolls
*
She picks the name 'Pearl' because she thinks it sounds pretty, and there's no more to it than that. Her grandmother always told her to pick pretty things for this, because giving ugly things to gods and spirits only makes them angry. Somewhere along the line, her grandmother's paper-thin, worn words seeped through her skin, and she's calling the doll Pearl and tying ribbons in her hair.
"I'm quite certain that you don't need to dress them up, Lavender," Hermione says disdainfully, then turns around and mutters, "not that it would make much difference anyway," into the neck of her jumper.
"I could call it Hermione," she replies placidly, and adjusts the doll's robes, smoothing them down with hands still awkward and childish.
Hermione wrinkles her nose. "Why would you do something like that?"
"If it doesn't work, giving her your name wouldn't make a difference," she says, and carefully glues the little wand to the plastic hand, winding a tiny scrap of Spellotape around it for extra hold. "And it would be a good experiment," she says, mock-thoughtful, and catches Parvati's eye across the room.
There is a long pause, while Hermione's sock-clad feet beat a soft tattoo against the side of the bedframe, thud thud thud. "Don't call it Hermione," she finally bursts out, all in a rush.
Sitting cross-legged on her bed across the dormitory, Parvati is smiling down at her lap and tucking her hair behind her ears. Lavender does not glance up to see her friend's amusement, or Hermione's annoyance. "I've already picked a name," she says instead, and finishes tying the binds across the doll's torso. She stands, kicking her feet out and making her robes flare out. She cradles the bound doll to her chest and picks up her textbook, turning to look at Hermione sat on her own bed, her Arithmancy book open beside her. "D'you want to come with us to the burning?"
Hermione's gaze flits to Lavender, then Parvati, finally coming back to rest on the bound doll in Lavender's arms. She opens her mouth to say something then pauses, thinking better of it. She shakes her head. "No, thank you. I have my Arithmancy essay to finish."
Lavender shrugs and leaves. The doll presses itself to her chest, its limbs rigid.
*
fin
FIC: dolls (1/1)
SUMMARY: Lavender and Hermione and extra-curricular credit.
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing.
*
dolls
*
She picks the name 'Pearl' because she thinks it sounds pretty, and there's no more to it than that. Her grandmother always told her to pick pretty things for this, because giving ugly things to gods and spirits only makes them angry. Somewhere along the line, her grandmother's paper-thin, worn words seeped through her skin, and she's calling the doll Pearl and tying ribbons in her hair.
"I'm quite certain that you don't need to dress them up, Lavender," Hermione says disdainfully, then turns around and mutters, "not that it would make much difference anyway," into the neck of her jumper.
"I could call it Hermione," she replies placidly, and adjusts the doll's robes, smoothing them down with hands still awkward and childish.
Hermione wrinkles her nose. "Why would you do something like that?"
"If it doesn't work, giving her your name wouldn't make a difference," she says, and carefully glues the little wand to the plastic hand, winding a tiny scrap of Spellotape around it for extra hold. "And it would be a good experiment," she says, mock-thoughtful, and catches Parvati's eye across the room.
There is a long pause, while Hermione's sock-clad feet beat a soft tattoo against the side of the bedframe, thud thud thud. "Don't call it Hermione," she finally bursts out, all in a rush.
Sitting cross-legged on her bed across the dormitory, Parvati is smiling down at her lap and tucking her hair behind her ears. Lavender does not glance up to see her friend's amusement, or Hermione's annoyance. "I've already picked a name," she says instead, and finishes tying the binds across the doll's torso. She stands, kicking her feet out and making her robes flare out. She cradles the bound doll to her chest and picks up her textbook, turning to look at Hermione sat on her own bed, her Arithmancy book open beside her. "D'you want to come with us to the burning?"
Hermione's gaze flits to Lavender, then Parvati, finally coming back to rest on the bound doll in Lavender's arms. She opens her mouth to say something then pauses, thinking better of it. She shakes her head. "No, thank you. I have my Arithmancy essay to finish."
Lavender shrugs and leaves. The doll presses itself to her chest, its limbs rigid.
*
fin