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The prompt and original drabble posts for this drabblethon were lost to my back-up snafu. These drabbles were written on the occasion of my 400th friending.

76. For fodirteg, whose prompt was "Albus: first lemon drop."

His First Taste of Magic (G; Albus, OFC, Mr. Honeydukes; 100 words)

The man in the baize apron had a kindly face, certainly nothing like his father's, and Albie thought that the gentleman might give him one of the gleaming yellow candies.

When he tried to ask for one, however, his nanny admonished, "No! Your Mum hates you eating sugar—you know that!"

Albie bit back tears. Mum hates it when I cry, as well.

It was like magic when, upon achieving his bedroom later that afternoon, Albie found an entire sack of Lemon Sherberts in the pocket of his robes.

Wisely, the little boy never told anyone about Mr. Honeydukes' kindness.

77. For archon_mentha, whose prompt was "Kingsley, Tonks, Mad-Eye Moody: red shirts, sneakoscopes, polyjuice."

Constantly Vigilant and No Damned Fun (G; Kingsley, Tonks, Moody; 150 words)

"Report," Moody growled, when he found Tonks and Shacklebolt giggling together—well, Tonks was giggling, but Shacklebolt's smile was damn close enough to a laugh—in the kitchen of Twelve, Grimmauld.

"Sorry, Sir. I stopped that shipment of defective Sneakoscopes from leaving Purleys' Protectives. He was that mad, too."

"What's so funny, then?" Moody asked Shacklebolt.

"Tonks was just telling me about the Star Trek episodes. She thinks people who buy protective devices from Purley might as well be wearing red shirts."

Tonks burst out laughing at Moody's expression. "It's from a telly show. Red Shirts are the security officers who always—"

"You're wasting time discussing Muggle telly when you know Fletcher's out there selling "Polyjuice" that turns people all hivey?"

Tonks' smile seemed to skulk off her face. "Sorry, Sir, but it is my dinner break."

"You take too many damned breaks, girl. Finish your tea and get back to it."

78. For fodirteg, whose prompt was "Kreacher, Dobby : trousers, pudding, skis."

A House Elf's Duty (G; Dobby, Kreacher, Sirius; 100 words)

Dobby magicked pudding to flow down the stairs, threw a pair of trousers over his shoulders, and stepped into the skis he had conjured. Soon enough, Kreacher showed himself.

"No messes here!" Kreacher screamed, unbending himself to shake his fist at Dobby, who ignored him and pushed off.

He crashed into Sirius, who took one look at Kreacher's face and burst out laughing. "Leave it," he ordered. "Let Dobby have his bit of fun."

As soon as Sirius and Kreacher were no longer watching him, Dobby cleaned up his mess. Kreacher was angry, and Sirius Black seemed happier.

"Mission accomplished!"