Five non-related drabbles about the five senses, for the Senses challenge on xoxLewrahxox's forum.
The fifth one is also a response to the 27th March Hufflepuff Prompt of the Day on Hogwarts Online, "Taste".
Initially posted under the Sweeney Todd fandom because the website is screwing up. =(
Dedicated two ways: to the delicious TuesdayNovember, because I kinda stole the formatting of her Senses story – which is awesome btw and everyone should check it out – and because I really am getting a kick from writing Ginny at the moment, and oh, because she's wonderful and I love her (and her head cannot get much bigger anyway, so...), and to the just as delicious Mesteria, for submitting the great prompt, and because I miss her, we miss her, the whole slutty world misses her :)
Senses
Write a 100-, 300- or 500-word drabble on the five senses: touch, smell, taste, see or hear. You don't have to include all of the senses in the drabble, but you can if you want to. Any character, obviously, can be used.
Sight
She catches only a glimpse of him. He doesn't pay attention – he has other things on his mind, a train to get on, a whole new life to start. Back then she doesn't care either.
She hears his name too late.
Running after the train, her eyes are filled with red, and that's all she's ever known, really (and she wants to be let in). But the truth is, she's left behind – and as she tries to forget she's alone, she remembers that she's seen Harry Potter.
Frowning, she tries to recall a precise memory – and succeeds.
Bright green eyes.
Hear
In her sleep, she hears it again.
(hissed words she should never have understood)
She tosses and turns, flashes of green scales and bloodbloodblood on her hands haunting her mind. She is twelve years old, and ugly little monsters are clawing at her chest, memories – darkness once took hold of her soul, nameless horrors lurking from milleniums ago, and she was a little girl.
(she still is one)
She wakes up screaming, but she doesn't mind – she is more scared, somehow, of hissing sounds leaving her lips.
She never hears Harry speaking Parseltongue – and maybe, maybe it saves her life.
Smell
The old, sickly sweet and slightly rotten smell of the 12, Grimmauld Place doesn't disgust her at first. It goes with the many tasks of cleaning, working all together – it fills a gap Percy left behind, and she can't understand Sirius' behaviour, because after Azkaban, how can he seem so depressed?
Months later, the house's smell starts dizzying her – it reminds her of death, and she fears for her father.
In the summer, she helps taking the Order's things away, from rooms that smell of Harry's grief by now – lurking in the shadows, dark and devastating.
She yearns to escape.
Touch
Hands – lips – arms – breath – warmth –
It makes her feel alive.
She was always the baby of the family, poked and pushed, yet protected by an almighty tribe of brothers. Her own person, claiming freedom – yet she remained their little girl, somehow.
With Michael, with Dean, she's no little girl.
No, she's no slut and she won't spread her legs for anyone – but yes, those boys are melting for her smile, and she just loves it.
Under their hands, she's not some sweet shadow of a girl.
Under their hands, she's a flesh-and-blood being, she's Ginny –
And for now, it's enough.
Taste
Nothing feels real, and yet it's over. She stands numb, frozen – waiting, still.
And then she sees him come down in the Great Hall, look slowly around as if he couldn't believe it all – either. Screams and shouts and happy voices and sobs surround them while Ginny forces the crowd apart, until she reaches him, and the world makes sense again.
So he smells of sweat and blood, and his skin is oddly soft with a just slight stubble on the jaw, and somehow his lips taste just like ever before.
And somehow, Ginny forgets there ever was a war.