A/N: This is a collection of drabbles some of which have been lying around on my hard drive for years. Since I'll never write actual stories around them, I thought I might as well post them as is. In the unlikely case that one of these inspires you to write a longer fic, let me know and I'll read and link it. :P …Now some of these are inspired by other fics, some by songs or poems. Some are funny (I think), some are pretty sad or downright evil. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: Neither the words of JK Rowling nor those of John Donne belong to me, and I certainly make no money with this work of fiction. (Poem: "Meditation XVII" by John Donne)
Warning: Some deaths.
Poetry
by Dime
"Potter! What does that mean? Whose body is this?" Malfoy pointed to the slack form of a currently expiring Dark Lord.
"Are you fond of poetry, Malfoy?" Harry asked with a smirk.
The aristocratic man stared at him with wild eyes.
"Ever heard of John Donne?" Harry stalked closer when Malfoy suddenly turned deathly pale and clutched at his Dark Mark.
"Never send to know for whom the bell tolls," Harry quoted in his ear, "it tolls for thee."
And as Voldemort breathed his last, so did his Death Eaters everywhere in the world. Malfoy collapsed without a sound. And Harry looked down on him with contempt.
"Idiot," he snarked before he apparated away.