The venerated TuesdayNovember gladly presents
Every Flavour
A collection of unrelated drabbles, oneshots and challenge entries.
Guaranteed to please even the pickiest reader.
"You want to be careful with those. When they say every flavour, they mean every flavour" - Ron Weasley, Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone
I: Dirty Blood
"Now Hermione, we're going to have to take a blood sample for testing," Dr. Mulligan's soothing voice washed over her. "Nurse Peters is going to take you into the other room, all right?"
Hermione nodded, trying to tamp down the flutter of fear in her stomach. She hopped down from the stool she had been seated on and followed the nurse out of the room.
She was led down a dark hallway and into a small room painted in deep teal.
"Sit down there, Hermione," Nurse Peters said kindly, as she pulled something out of a bag beside her.
She looked away.
"It's going to hurt a little bit, but you're a brave girl."
She felt a sharp prick on her right arm, and a voice, one decidedly different from Nurse Peters', said, "Well, well. Who would have guessed?"
"Guessed what?" Hermione asked, trying to sound less nervous than she actually was.
The voice was sneering. "Dirty blood."
She looked over at the needle, filled almost to the top with brown liquid.
Draco smirked at her. "Just like I said."
Hermione jerked awake, her heart pounding. Her red-gold sheets were a tangled mess around her, and her arms had been twisted together.
The nail of her index finger had been pressed so fiercely into her arm during her sleep that she could feel a sharp pain there. Looking down, she saw a purple, moon-shaped dent. Deep, dark and painful.
She took a deep breath and lay back down.
I don't have dirty blood. I don't. She told herself. But for the first time, she wasn't sure.
Thoughts? I'd love to hear them!