So, yes. I was amused by this challenge...no, I'm sorry. That's wrong. Let me rephrase. I was GREATLY amused by this challenge, and I ended up getting a little carried away, so to start with I have three H/D drabbles (angst, flush-ish-ness, and humor). But then...well. I recently discovered the lovely shoebox_project, which is an AMAZING Sirius/Remus fic, and...er...</span></p></p></p></p></p></p></p></p></p></p></p></p></p></p>
She should never have allowed the Firewhiskey. Things are out of control. Ron is dancing
on their coffee table.
Alas, she cannot drink; she must vent her anxiety elsewhere.
Searching the room, she locates targets: Harry and Malfoy, all over each other on her new couch.
Furious at the display, she storms over to separate them. “Alcohol is no excuse!” she admonishes,
horrified, from atop her very pregnant belly.
Harry has the shame to look guilty, but Malfoy is smiling, and their eyes are disturbingly clear…
“Granger,” Draco laughs, winking conspiratorially as Harry blushes. “We aren’t drunk.”
Sirius’s head is in my lap. Remus knows he should be responsible, should move the giggling,
drunken boy, should take advantage of his own relative sobriety to protect their secret.
But Sirius’s head is in my lap! His thick black hair is spread over Remus’s thighs and his eyes
are wide and happy and he is giggling madly, leaning up every few moments to steal a sloppy
kiss, and Remus is just as drunk, though he hasn’t touched the Firewhiskey.
Secrecy be damned. If people ask questions…if they are found in the morning…they can
always blame the alcohol.