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ap_aelfwinePosted another of my "Let's make Evangelion fun" stories at http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2026987/1/ and at http://www.geocities.com/ap_aelfwine/Tokyo3inSeaOfTime.html
"Tokyo-3 in the Sea of Time" is a fusion with S.M. Stirling's Island in the Sea of Time. Grim anime + serious SF novel (although ISOT is kind of light-hearted, for Stirling) = silly comedy.
And we have :
FIC: 'A Different Yule Ball', Harry/Parvati/Lavender, PG-13
Title: "A Different Yule Ball"
Author: Andrew Aelfwine
Rating: PG-13
Tripling: Harry/Parvati/Lavender
Setting: Alternate Universe, Goblet of Fire
Summary: After a rough start, Harry and Parvati share a lovely evening, comfort a friend, and encounter Flying Mistletoe.
Warnings: Het, femmeslash, bisexuality. Snogging. Sappiness.
Length: 2342 words
Notes: Wrote this a couple of years ago, revised it recently.
A Different Yule Ball
An alternate universe Harry Potter fanfiction
By Andrew Aelfwine
September 2002, Revised 25 August 2004
* * *
Characters and setting belong to J.K. Rowling. They're merely
borrowed for this non-profit fanfiction.
Warnings: kissing, heterosexuality, femmeslash, polyamoury, yours
truly
Rated PG-13 by the Mental Picture Association of Arcturus VII
* * *
Cho's earring flashed as she shook her head, a diamond-bright
point of light against black hair and tanned skin. Her
laughter cut through the music and the noise of the Great Hall,
straight to Harry's heart.
Someone seized his hand, and he realised he'd been spoken
to. "Sorry?"
"May I have this dance?" Lavender said.
"Err..." She hauled him out onto the floor, locking her arm
round his back.
A Weird Sister set down her lute, pulled a fiddle from out
of her hat and struck up a waltz, slow and mournful. Cho smiled
at Cedric as he handed her a flute of some fizzy concoction.
Lavender leaned close to his ear and whispered "Sweet Verdandi,
Harry Potter, are you cruel or just thick?"
"What?"
"Parvati's crying her eyes out in the toilet, you stupid
prat."
"I thought--"
Lavender's glare silenced him. "She's fancied you since we
were first years."
"I'm sorry." Fancied him since first year? He remembered:
a plumpish girl, wearing more jewelry than seemed right for
a flying lesson, her accent posh with a hint of foreign melody
beneath it, saying "It wasn't his fault, Professor, Malfoy
started it..." in the face of an angry McGonagall. "Really, I-"
"I certainly hope so." She steered him into a corner,
shielded from the rest of the hall by plants and drapes. "I'll
fetch her. Stay here and think how you're going to apologise."
Poor Parvati. He'd only thought about the dance, and
needing a partner, and how Cho was with Cedric and Hermione with
Krum and Ginny with Neville. He'd assumed she'd go off with
someone else as soon as she had the chance, a sixth year or a boy
from Beauxbatons.
He heard footsteps. Lavender's jaw was tight, her eyes
hard. Parvati walked beside her, half a step back, and as she
brushed past the potted firs he could hear an all too familiar
catch in her breath, the sound a person made when they were
trying very hard not to sniffle.
Lavender reached back and urged Parvati forward with a soft
pat on the shoulder. Her other hand was concealed by the long
cuff of her robe. For one second her eyes met Harry's, and she
mouthed something: he thought it might be "Don't foul up." Then
Parvati was in the fore, and he lost track of everything else as
he stepped toward her.
His foot slipped, and he fell to one knee before catching
himself. "I... I'm sorry. I didn't know how you felt." It
sounded stupid even as he said it, but Parvati blinked, smiled,
and reached down her hand.
"Thank you, Harry." There was an awkward moment before he
understood he was meant to take her hand and rise to his feet.
And another when he found himself looking straight into her eyes.
They were slightly reddened, shining still with unshed tears.
The elaborate makeup of the evening's start was gone. And for a
few mad seconds he wanted nothing more than to put his arms about
her and kiss her. No, he thought, she'd be furious. And
Lavender would curse him into next week.
Footsteps again; Lavender was leaving. Should he invite
Parvati for another dance?
No. She'd think he only wanted to look for Cho again.
Better to stay here and talk.
About what? He didn't know anything about dress robes or
Divination, and he was always the last to hear a piece of gossip.
"So," she said, "do you think Puddlemere's for the All-England?"
"Err... I think they've a good chance. Although Wimbourne's
a tough nut to crack."
"Well, my uncle Ashwin was Puddlemere's Keeper for ten
years, so I may be a bit prejudiced, but-- Harry, your eyes
aren't usually that big, are they?"
"Ah, sorry. I didn't..."
"Think I knew anything about quidditch?"
"No offense."
"None taken. After all, I hardly know anything about you,
beyond the obvious." Her skin was the colour of wildflower
honey, and she wore a gold ring through one nostril. The thought
of such a thing had always made his nose hurt, but on Parvati it
was very pretty. Why hadn't he noticed while they were dancing?
She must have thought he looked puzzled. "You know.
Seeker, Champion, Boy-Who-Lived. The stuff of epics."
"Oh."
She giggled. "Not to mention quite dishy."
He felt his face and ears grow hot. "Ah," he said,
floundering for words, "would you like to step outside?"
"I'd love to." Some vague memory spurred him to offer her
his arm. She laid her hand on his elbow, as if afraid he might
break or vanish if she took hold. They made their way through
the Entrance Hall, past a knot of boys talking sport in half a
dozen languages, waving their hands and wands as they made
illusions to fill the gaps in their words.
A breeze, just slightly cooler than air inside, wafted
across them as they stood on the massive steps, bringing a scent
of roses. Torches burned low so as not to outshine the stars,
and a few snowflakes fell, disappearing before they quite reached
the ground.
Parvati quivered slightly. "Are you cold?" he said.
"No." She stood a little closer to him, slid her hand to
the inside of his arm. "Shall we take a walk in the rose
garden?"
He let her lead the way, down the winding paths between
bushes and flowerbeds. Gravel crunched under their feet.
Moonlight and torches coloured the flowers Professor Sprout and
her senior students had forced, the branches and blooms casting
filigreed shadows. Magically amplified, the music from the Great
Hall faded into the background unless one thought to listen to
it.
A twig snapped, breaking Harry's mood. His hand dropped to
his wand and he prepared to thrust himself between Parvati and
whatever lurked.
"Ah, mon petit chou, je..." Fleur's voice trailed off in a
burst of French he couldn't follow. Someone else was giggling as
if being tickled.
"There's a bench in the next clearing," Parvati whispered.
"Would you like to sit down? I mean, if it's empty?"
It was. They sat turned toward each other, their knees not
quite touching.
"So," Harry said at last, "what's it like where you're
from?"
"London? Or India?"
"Which do you think of as home?"
She smiled, and he had the feeling he'd passed a test.
"Both and neither. It's silly, I suppose."
"I don't think so."
"You were raised by Muggles, weren't you? What was that
like?"
"Dull, really."
"Oh? I've always thought it sounded fascinating. Riding in
motorcars and aeroplanes, wearing such wonderfully odd clothes...
And is it true Muggle post is carried by people?"
"Yes."
"Sorry, I'm babbling. I don't mean to sound so thick."
"Not at all. I nearly jumped out of my shoes the first time
a picture winked at me."
The moon was well above the hills and the Weird Sisters were
singing about Thomas Rhymer and the Queen of Faerie when someone
tapped him on the shoulder. "Hey, lovebirds. Whispered any
sweet nothings yet?"
"Lavender!"
"That's my name." She perched between them. "Hope I'm not
interrupting anything."
Parvati made a face. "Letting Séamus have a chat with the
lads, are we?"
"Oh, he's met some girl named Hennessy from Beauxbatons.
They're comparing banshee stories, I think." She grinned, but
something glistened on her cheek. A burst of wild anger rose up
in him for a moment--it wasn't fair such a thing should happen to
Lavender after she'd been so kind.
"Oh, Lavender, I..." Parvati hugged her. They were like a
scene in a painting: Lavender sobbing on Parvati's shoulder, her
golden ringlets veiling her face and trailing across the dark
fabric of her friend's robes.
For a moment, Harry sat frozen. Then, feeling clumsy as a
troll, he reached out to pat her on the shoulder. As if by
accident, Parvati's hand covered his and held it in place.
"Sorry to be such a bother," Lavender said at last. Parvati
held a finger to her lips. Harry fumbled for a moment before
remembering his handkerchief was in his breast pocket.
"Thanks." Parvati wiped Lavender's eyes. With the care of
Madame Pince handling a delicate manuscript, she folded the
handkerchief and slipped it back into Harry's pocket. His gaze
flicked down to her hand, up again to her face. She met his eyes
for a second before looking away, her lips quirked into a soft
smile.
There was a noise overhead like oak leaves in the wind, and
Harry looked up to see a cluster of grayish-white stems and
berries, its awkwardly grafted-on wings beating out of time with
each other. "Shiva's Sheep," Parvati said, "it's Flying
Mistletoe."
"What?"
"One of the Hufflepuff seventh-years invented it. It finds
couples and hangs over their heads until they kiss. If they
part, it splits in two and follows them." She slipped her wand
from her sleeve. The plant pelted them with berries.
Harry drew his own wand. "Wingardium Lev-- " A berry caught
him in the nose, hard enough to sting.
Lavender yelped. "Put those away before one of us loses an
eye."
Raising a hand to shield his face, Harry risked a glance.
The mistletoe waggled its absurd wings at him.
"I hope it doesn't follow us round all week," Parvati
muttered, brushing at the projectiles clinging to her robes and
hair.
"Oh, pucker up and be done with it."
Harry's palms began to sweat, and Parvati's mouth worked for
a moment before she got the words out. "Is... is anyone
watching?"
"No."
There was an awkward moment of bumping noses before they
brushed lips. "Sorry. Did my ring scratch you?"
"No. 'S fine."
"Go on. That wasn't a kiss."
Her mouth tasted like sweet spices: cinnamon and cloves and
marvelous things he couldn't name. "Was that all right?"
"Lovely."
"It's still there. P'raps you have to use your tongues?"
Good heavens, he hadn't the least idea how that was supposed to
work.
"Maybe it's locked on you, Lavender."
"Surely... You're serious? Do you... ah, mind?"
"Not if it gets rid of that thing."
He'd never thought of kissing Lavender. Then again, he'd
barely thought of kissing Parvati till tonight. "Parvati? Are
you sure?"
She nodded, holding tight to his hand.
Lavender laid her hand on the nape of his neck and pressed
him to her. She tasted of mint and oranges. Afterward, the
three of them looked to the sky. "Pest. Is it broken?" she
muttered.
Maybe... He didn't know a way to say it without sounding
like a pervert.
"Lavender? Maybe it's us?"
She blinked. "'Vati?"
"Never mind, it's a stupid idea."
"We've tried everything else. Quickly, before someone
wanders in on us. One, two, thr-- mmph." Harry tried to look
away. They were only kissing to satisfy the mistletoe, and it
would be hard enough without a boy watching. Pale blonde hair
met deep black like clouds in the night.
"See, that wasn't so bad."
"No," Parvati whispered, "but it's still there."
"Come here." And before Harry could think what she was
talking about, Lavender had pulled them all together. His
glasses bumped Parvati's cheekbone; he tried to take them off,
but Lavender was faster. Parvati caught his reaching hand and
twined her fingers with his, resting them at the base of
Lavender's neck, where her robes left skin exposed. The
fluttering in his stomach warred with the tension in his chest
and the embarrassing swell in his groin. Brown and blue and
green eyes met, too close to focus, too close to serve as
anything but conduits between three souls. Awkward as newborn
foals, they rubbed cheeks and noses.
Parvati caught Harry's lip between her teeth. She purred in
the back of her throat as they suckled each other's lips, as
Lavender nibbled down the line of her jaw and up her chin to join
her mouth with theirs. Tongues met and parted and met again.
At last, they sat quietly, faces close enough to share each
others' breath. "So, that's the way it works," they murmured.
Three sets of eyes widened. "How did we do that?" Parvati
said.
"Well, we put our mouths together and-- 'Vati! Please...
you kn...know I'm-- giggle-- ticklish there, love."
"Yes, I do."
"Save me, Harry!"
"Do be a gentleman, Harry, and help me punish our-- eeee,
Lavender, you..."
The only equitable solution was to tickle them both. Which
led to them tickling him.
"Well," Lavender said, "that was fun, but..."
"We'd rather snog. You as well, Harry?"
The clock struck midnight.
Parvati sighed. "Tomorrow."
"Yes."
* * *
Epilogue
"...And then Fleur asked her to dance, and I didn't see her
again. So, where were you all night, Harry?"
"At the ball."
"Come to think of it, I didn't see Parvati, either. Have a
good snog?"
"We talked." Harry smoothed his dress robes on their
hanger. A piece of parchment fell from one sleeve. He snatched
it and hid it in his pyjama shirt.
"Go on. About quidditch, I suppose."
"Yes, actually."
Ron chuckled. "I'm sure."
Séamus cracked open his bed curtains. "For God's sake, some
of us are trying to sleep."
"We'll have the truth of you yet, Harry. G'night."
"Night, Ron." Harry blew out the candle and shut his
curtains. Taking the wand from under his pillow, he whispered
"Lumos."
For a moment, the parchment was blank, simply a scrap torn
from a scroll. As it grew warm in his hand, letters appeared,
swirling about in geometric patterns before settling into form:
The Patil-Brown School of Ballroom Dance
Will begin offering lessons at 1.30 PM, 26 December.
Classes will meet in the Library
before proceeding to a more suitable location.
This offer applies only to persons named Harry Potter.
* * *
Well, there goes all sorts of stuff necessary to the plot of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. Oh well, Harry and Parvati and Lavender are happy. And don't they make a cute triple?
This isn't my OTT, but the way Harry treated Parvati at the Yule Ball got on my nerves, so I shouldn't be surprised this bubbled out.
Thanks for reading,
Andrew
"Tokyo-3 in the Sea of Time" is a fusion with S.M. Stirling's Island in the Sea of Time. Grim anime + serious SF novel (although ISOT is kind of light-hearted, for Stirling) = silly comedy.
And we have :
FIC: 'A Different Yule Ball', Harry/Parvati/Lavender, PG-13
Title: "A Different Yule Ball"
Author: Andrew Aelfwine
Rating: PG-13
Tripling: Harry/Parvati/Lavender
Setting: Alternate Universe, Goblet of Fire
Summary: After a rough start, Harry and Parvati share a lovely evening, comfort a friend, and encounter Flying Mistletoe.
Warnings: Het, femmeslash, bisexuality. Snogging. Sappiness.
Length: 2342 words
Notes: Wrote this a couple of years ago, revised it recently.
A Different Yule Ball
An alternate universe Harry Potter fanfiction
By Andrew Aelfwine
September 2002, Revised 25 August 2004
* * *
Characters and setting belong to J.K. Rowling. They're merely
borrowed for this non-profit fanfiction.
Warnings: kissing, heterosexuality, femmeslash, polyamoury, yours
truly
Rated PG-13 by the Mental Picture Association of Arcturus VII
* * *
Cho's earring flashed as she shook her head, a diamond-bright
point of light against black hair and tanned skin. Her
laughter cut through the music and the noise of the Great Hall,
straight to Harry's heart.
Someone seized his hand, and he realised he'd been spoken
to. "Sorry?"
"May I have this dance?" Lavender said.
"Err..." She hauled him out onto the floor, locking her arm
round his back.
A Weird Sister set down her lute, pulled a fiddle from out
of her hat and struck up a waltz, slow and mournful. Cho smiled
at Cedric as he handed her a flute of some fizzy concoction.
Lavender leaned close to his ear and whispered "Sweet Verdandi,
Harry Potter, are you cruel or just thick?"
"What?"
"Parvati's crying her eyes out in the toilet, you stupid
prat."
"I thought--"
Lavender's glare silenced him. "She's fancied you since we
were first years."
"I'm sorry." Fancied him since first year? He remembered:
a plumpish girl, wearing more jewelry than seemed right for
a flying lesson, her accent posh with a hint of foreign melody
beneath it, saying "It wasn't his fault, Professor, Malfoy
started it..." in the face of an angry McGonagall. "Really, I-"
"I certainly hope so." She steered him into a corner,
shielded from the rest of the hall by plants and drapes. "I'll
fetch her. Stay here and think how you're going to apologise."
Poor Parvati. He'd only thought about the dance, and
needing a partner, and how Cho was with Cedric and Hermione with
Krum and Ginny with Neville. He'd assumed she'd go off with
someone else as soon as she had the chance, a sixth year or a boy
from Beauxbatons.
He heard footsteps. Lavender's jaw was tight, her eyes
hard. Parvati walked beside her, half a step back, and as she
brushed past the potted firs he could hear an all too familiar
catch in her breath, the sound a person made when they were
trying very hard not to sniffle.
Lavender reached back and urged Parvati forward with a soft
pat on the shoulder. Her other hand was concealed by the long
cuff of her robe. For one second her eyes met Harry's, and she
mouthed something: he thought it might be "Don't foul up." Then
Parvati was in the fore, and he lost track of everything else as
he stepped toward her.
His foot slipped, and he fell to one knee before catching
himself. "I... I'm sorry. I didn't know how you felt." It
sounded stupid even as he said it, but Parvati blinked, smiled,
and reached down her hand.
"Thank you, Harry." There was an awkward moment before he
understood he was meant to take her hand and rise to his feet.
And another when he found himself looking straight into her eyes.
They were slightly reddened, shining still with unshed tears.
The elaborate makeup of the evening's start was gone. And for a
few mad seconds he wanted nothing more than to put his arms about
her and kiss her. No, he thought, she'd be furious. And
Lavender would curse him into next week.
Footsteps again; Lavender was leaving. Should he invite
Parvati for another dance?
No. She'd think he only wanted to look for Cho again.
Better to stay here and talk.
About what? He didn't know anything about dress robes or
Divination, and he was always the last to hear a piece of gossip.
"So," she said, "do you think Puddlemere's for the All-England?"
"Err... I think they've a good chance. Although Wimbourne's
a tough nut to crack."
"Well, my uncle Ashwin was Puddlemere's Keeper for ten
years, so I may be a bit prejudiced, but-- Harry, your eyes
aren't usually that big, are they?"
"Ah, sorry. I didn't..."
"Think I knew anything about quidditch?"
"No offense."
"None taken. After all, I hardly know anything about you,
beyond the obvious." Her skin was the colour of wildflower
honey, and she wore a gold ring through one nostril. The thought
of such a thing had always made his nose hurt, but on Parvati it
was very pretty. Why hadn't he noticed while they were dancing?
She must have thought he looked puzzled. "You know.
Seeker, Champion, Boy-Who-Lived. The stuff of epics."
"Oh."
She giggled. "Not to mention quite dishy."
He felt his face and ears grow hot. "Ah," he said,
floundering for words, "would you like to step outside?"
"I'd love to." Some vague memory spurred him to offer her
his arm. She laid her hand on his elbow, as if afraid he might
break or vanish if she took hold. They made their way through
the Entrance Hall, past a knot of boys talking sport in half a
dozen languages, waving their hands and wands as they made
illusions to fill the gaps in their words.
A breeze, just slightly cooler than air inside, wafted
across them as they stood on the massive steps, bringing a scent
of roses. Torches burned low so as not to outshine the stars,
and a few snowflakes fell, disappearing before they quite reached
the ground.
Parvati quivered slightly. "Are you cold?" he said.
"No." She stood a little closer to him, slid her hand to
the inside of his arm. "Shall we take a walk in the rose
garden?"
He let her lead the way, down the winding paths between
bushes and flowerbeds. Gravel crunched under their feet.
Moonlight and torches coloured the flowers Professor Sprout and
her senior students had forced, the branches and blooms casting
filigreed shadows. Magically amplified, the music from the Great
Hall faded into the background unless one thought to listen to
it.
A twig snapped, breaking Harry's mood. His hand dropped to
his wand and he prepared to thrust himself between Parvati and
whatever lurked.
"Ah, mon petit chou, je..." Fleur's voice trailed off in a
burst of French he couldn't follow. Someone else was giggling as
if being tickled.
"There's a bench in the next clearing," Parvati whispered.
"Would you like to sit down? I mean, if it's empty?"
It was. They sat turned toward each other, their knees not
quite touching.
"So," Harry said at last, "what's it like where you're
from?"
"London? Or India?"
"Which do you think of as home?"
She smiled, and he had the feeling he'd passed a test.
"Both and neither. It's silly, I suppose."
"I don't think so."
"You were raised by Muggles, weren't you? What was that
like?"
"Dull, really."
"Oh? I've always thought it sounded fascinating. Riding in
motorcars and aeroplanes, wearing such wonderfully odd clothes...
And is it true Muggle post is carried by people?"
"Yes."
"Sorry, I'm babbling. I don't mean to sound so thick."
"Not at all. I nearly jumped out of my shoes the first time
a picture winked at me."
The moon was well above the hills and the Weird Sisters were
singing about Thomas Rhymer and the Queen of Faerie when someone
tapped him on the shoulder. "Hey, lovebirds. Whispered any
sweet nothings yet?"
"Lavender!"
"That's my name." She perched between them. "Hope I'm not
interrupting anything."
Parvati made a face. "Letting Séamus have a chat with the
lads, are we?"
"Oh, he's met some girl named Hennessy from Beauxbatons.
They're comparing banshee stories, I think." She grinned, but
something glistened on her cheek. A burst of wild anger rose up
in him for a moment--it wasn't fair such a thing should happen to
Lavender after she'd been so kind.
"Oh, Lavender, I..." Parvati hugged her. They were like a
scene in a painting: Lavender sobbing on Parvati's shoulder, her
golden ringlets veiling her face and trailing across the dark
fabric of her friend's robes.
For a moment, Harry sat frozen. Then, feeling clumsy as a
troll, he reached out to pat her on the shoulder. As if by
accident, Parvati's hand covered his and held it in place.
"Sorry to be such a bother," Lavender said at last. Parvati
held a finger to her lips. Harry fumbled for a moment before
remembering his handkerchief was in his breast pocket.
"Thanks." Parvati wiped Lavender's eyes. With the care of
Madame Pince handling a delicate manuscript, she folded the
handkerchief and slipped it back into Harry's pocket. His gaze
flicked down to her hand, up again to her face. She met his eyes
for a second before looking away, her lips quirked into a soft
smile.
There was a noise overhead like oak leaves in the wind, and
Harry looked up to see a cluster of grayish-white stems and
berries, its awkwardly grafted-on wings beating out of time with
each other. "Shiva's Sheep," Parvati said, "it's Flying
Mistletoe."
"What?"
"One of the Hufflepuff seventh-years invented it. It finds
couples and hangs over their heads until they kiss. If they
part, it splits in two and follows them." She slipped her wand
from her sleeve. The plant pelted them with berries.
Harry drew his own wand. "Wingardium Lev-- " A berry caught
him in the nose, hard enough to sting.
Lavender yelped. "Put those away before one of us loses an
eye."
Raising a hand to shield his face, Harry risked a glance.
The mistletoe waggled its absurd wings at him.
"I hope it doesn't follow us round all week," Parvati
muttered, brushing at the projectiles clinging to her robes and
hair.
"Oh, pucker up and be done with it."
Harry's palms began to sweat, and Parvati's mouth worked for
a moment before she got the words out. "Is... is anyone
watching?"
"No."
There was an awkward moment of bumping noses before they
brushed lips. "Sorry. Did my ring scratch you?"
"No. 'S fine."
"Go on. That wasn't a kiss."
Her mouth tasted like sweet spices: cinnamon and cloves and
marvelous things he couldn't name. "Was that all right?"
"Lovely."
"It's still there. P'raps you have to use your tongues?"
Good heavens, he hadn't the least idea how that was supposed to
work.
"Maybe it's locked on you, Lavender."
"Surely... You're serious? Do you... ah, mind?"
"Not if it gets rid of that thing."
He'd never thought of kissing Lavender. Then again, he'd
barely thought of kissing Parvati till tonight. "Parvati? Are
you sure?"
She nodded, holding tight to his hand.
Lavender laid her hand on the nape of his neck and pressed
him to her. She tasted of mint and oranges. Afterward, the
three of them looked to the sky. "Pest. Is it broken?" she
muttered.
Maybe... He didn't know a way to say it without sounding
like a pervert.
"Lavender? Maybe it's us?"
She blinked. "'Vati?"
"Never mind, it's a stupid idea."
"We've tried everything else. Quickly, before someone
wanders in on us. One, two, thr-- mmph." Harry tried to look
away. They were only kissing to satisfy the mistletoe, and it
would be hard enough without a boy watching. Pale blonde hair
met deep black like clouds in the night.
"See, that wasn't so bad."
"No," Parvati whispered, "but it's still there."
"Come here." And before Harry could think what she was
talking about, Lavender had pulled them all together. His
glasses bumped Parvati's cheekbone; he tried to take them off,
but Lavender was faster. Parvati caught his reaching hand and
twined her fingers with his, resting them at the base of
Lavender's neck, where her robes left skin exposed. The
fluttering in his stomach warred with the tension in his chest
and the embarrassing swell in his groin. Brown and blue and
green eyes met, too close to focus, too close to serve as
anything but conduits between three souls. Awkward as newborn
foals, they rubbed cheeks and noses.
Parvati caught Harry's lip between her teeth. She purred in
the back of her throat as they suckled each other's lips, as
Lavender nibbled down the line of her jaw and up her chin to join
her mouth with theirs. Tongues met and parted and met again.
At last, they sat quietly, faces close enough to share each
others' breath. "So, that's the way it works," they murmured.
Three sets of eyes widened. "How did we do that?" Parvati
said.
"Well, we put our mouths together and-- 'Vati! Please...
you kn...know I'm-- giggle-- ticklish there, love."
"Yes, I do."
"Save me, Harry!"
"Do be a gentleman, Harry, and help me punish our-- eeee,
Lavender, you..."
The only equitable solution was to tickle them both. Which
led to them tickling him.
"Well," Lavender said, "that was fun, but..."
"We'd rather snog. You as well, Harry?"
The clock struck midnight.
Parvati sighed. "Tomorrow."
"Yes."
* * *
Epilogue
"...And then Fleur asked her to dance, and I didn't see her
again. So, where were you all night, Harry?"
"At the ball."
"Come to think of it, I didn't see Parvati, either. Have a
good snog?"
"We talked." Harry smoothed his dress robes on their
hanger. A piece of parchment fell from one sleeve. He snatched
it and hid it in his pyjama shirt.
"Go on. About quidditch, I suppose."
"Yes, actually."
Ron chuckled. "I'm sure."
Séamus cracked open his bed curtains. "For God's sake, some
of us are trying to sleep."
"We'll have the truth of you yet, Harry. G'night."
"Night, Ron." Harry blew out the candle and shut his
curtains. Taking the wand from under his pillow, he whispered
"Lumos."
For a moment, the parchment was blank, simply a scrap torn
from a scroll. As it grew warm in his hand, letters appeared,
swirling about in geometric patterns before settling into form:
The Patil-Brown School of Ballroom Dance
Will begin offering lessons at 1.30 PM, 26 December.
Classes will meet in the Library
before proceeding to a more suitable location.
This offer applies only to persons named Harry Potter.
* * *
Well, there goes all sorts of stuff necessary to the plot of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. Oh well, Harry and Parvati and Lavender are happy. And don't they make a cute triple?
This isn't my OTT, but the way Harry treated Parvati at the Yule Ball got on my nerves, so I shouldn't be surprised this bubbled out.
Thanks for reading,
Andrew
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Date: 2004-08-26 03:14 pm (UTC)I was a little surprised at the nose ring -- was under the impression that they didn't do that piercing until their wedding. I could be mistaken, though.
But I loved the Flying Mistletoe. It reminded me of SCA cloved lemons.
Cute!
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Date: 2004-08-26 07:03 pm (UTC)I was a little surprised at the nose ring -- was under the impression that they didn't do that piercing until their wedding. I could be mistaken, though.
Ack, I think you're right :-)
Didn't even think about it--I've got so used to teenaged girls with nose rings that I sometimes forget they didn't used to often have them, and while I was in an elementary school with a ten or twenty percent Indian population there were hardly any Indian girls at all in my high school. (Tries to think about college: yep, no nose rings, but there weren't that many Indian women there and they were mostly so westernised that some of them didn't even have earrings :-)
Well, another fix to make sometime. Pity about losing the "did my ring scratch you?" line. Oh well, kill your darlings and all that :-)
Ayup, the Yule Ball has so many plot bunnies breeding there it's a wonder none were stepped on during the dancing :-) One of my friends thinks I should write about Fleur and Hermione (or Padma? Ron's line could be about either one.) running off to the rose garden whilst this story was going on. Problem is, I've got no idea what happened there, beyond tickling and Fleur saying "mon petit chou." :-)
Does Pansy want you to tell more? I'm sure it would be fun to read (hint, hint :-)
But I loved the Flying Mistletoe. It reminded me of SCA cloved lemons.
Thanks! It would be sort of scary if cloved lemons spat cloves at folk, wouldn't it? Alas, we didn't really do cloven fruit when I was playing in the MidRealm. Too many older and/or partnered folk, and kidden, I suppose.
Thanks again,
Andrew