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.
91. For furor_scribiend, whose prompt was "Severus/Lucius: power-trip, pressure, permission."
Exceedingly Well-Arranged (PG-13; implied Severus/Lucius, implied Severus/Narcissa; 100 words)
It wasn't a power-trip that made Lucius certain of Narcissa's acquiescence in the matter of his "occasionally sleeping outside the marital bed," as they put it between themselves; it was contractual, and Mrs. Malfoy was guaranteed permission to stray once she'd borne her "spare"—but, given that Severus was his lover, Lucius understood that he would never feel the pressure of his wife's infidelity.
He never would feel it, Narcissa knew, for she was content to be the mother of one son. She also enjoyed having time to devote to her own paramour—when he wasn't in Lucius' company, of course.
92. For leianora, whose prompt was "Hermione/Millicent: Chocolate."
Myrtle's Interesting Afternoon (PG-13; Hermione/Millicent; 100 words)
Millicent has magnificent breasts. Hermione's always thought so. Sometimes, she wishes she could put her face between them and blow a raspberry, just to see if Millicent is ticklish.
Granger's got nice tits—not small, but small enough to fit in your hand. My hand. If I had those tits in my hands . . . .
They stare at each other whenever the opportunity presents itself in the corridors, daring each other to look away. One day, neither of them does, and the chocolate bar Hermione's holding becomes squashed between them.
"Chocolate stains," Millicent says, grabbing Hermione and pulling her into the girl's bathroom.
93. For leianora, whose prompt was "Harry Potter/Tom Riddle: beloved."
A Diary's Advice (PG-13; Harry Potter/Tom Riddle; 100 words)
Harry never told his true name to the diary, and Riddle didn't show him Hagrid. Instead, the older, compelling boy took Harry by the hand and wandered around the school with him until they eventually returned to the dormitories.
"I don't know why," Tom said, "but there's something about you I . . . ."
"What?" Harry asked, catching his breath as Tom touched his face. "What . . . are you doing?"
"There's a magic about you, Neville. A magic I don't quite understand—as if you're . . . alone yet pro—"
"Beloved," Harry interrupted. "My—"
Tom laughed. "Love? What's that? I shouldn't put your faith in something so ephemeral."