Disclaimer: JK Rowling's. Not mine. Etc. Etc.
A/N: So, I haven't written anything in ages. This prompt from the DG Forum seemed cute, and I thought I'd attempt to beat away my writer's block. This is so far from my best work that I find it physically painful to re-read. Oh well. Hopefully it helped a bit. The propmt:
Prompt: October (fall or spring)
Challenge: Find the beauty or the ugliness in the season.
Pairing: Any, as long as your fic features HP character(s).
Word Count: 800 words (limit)
My word count is 576. Without further ado:
October
The boy wrapped his cloak tightly around his petit frame, making long, quick strides towards the castle. Quidditch practice had ended roughly a half of an hour earlier; his hair was still wet from his regular post-flying shower, there was a sharp nip to the air, and the overcast sky was not helpful in lessening both his foul mood and fear of catching an early death due to pneumonia. Grumbling to himself about the shite weather and his certain pending demise, eyes focused on his only hope at sanctuary ahead, he suddenly felt himself falling. It had happened so abruptly, he did not have a chance to catch himself, but thankfully landed on something soft.
"Oof!" the soft thing exclained, muffled by his think woolen cloak pressed against her mouth.
"Watch where your going, Weasley," he snarled at the redhead below him. Her eyes did not narrow as he'd expected, she merely stared at him curiously.
"Technically Malfoy," she replied simply, "I was not going anywhere. I was sitting. You were the one stomping about."
"I am in no mood," he warned her.
"I thought you seemed grumpier than usual. Fall off your broom?" She grinned, ignoring his ominous declaration.
"It's this bloody month," he explained, losing whatever false hope he'd had that she would end this ridiculous conversation and let him return to the castle in peace.
"What, October? Are you mad?"
"Not as mad as you, apparently. What is so great about this bloody month that you assume I must be loony, just like your barking friend? What is her name, Lunatic Lovewell? I suppose she was hopeless from the start."
"Yes, because with a name like Draco Malfoy, you were destined to fit in famously. And I'd prefer it if you did not talk about Luna like that. She's not mad, just eccentric," he snorted in response, "Fine. She has her moments.
"Regardless, what is there not to like about October? The weather is the perfect temperature, too cool to feel sticky- as one tends to in August- but still too warm to wear an uncomfortable, bulky cloak. The changing leaves always make life a bit more interesting, and certainly more beautiful. And lastly, but possibly most important of all, it finishes off with Halloween. Any month ending with something so wonderful as a holiday cannot possibly be bad."
"Well, for starters, it is too bloody cold; the weather is rubbish, making the dungeons damp and nearly impossible to tolerate, let alone live in. Furthermore, the leaves are not "interesting" or "beautiful," they are dying. And, lastly, but possibly most important of all," his wording and tone clearly mocking her previous statement, "Halloween is a holiday for children and idiots. Of which, apparently, you are both."
She sighed, knowing full well that she could not win him over. And yet, as he made his way back towards the warmth of the castle, she couldn't help but shout at his retreating frame, "The dungeons are always damp!" She knew it made no difference to him, but she felt a tad better.
He shook his head; she would never give up. But, thinking about the way her eyes sparkled and her face seemed to light up as she tried to reason with him about what was clearly her favourite month, he couldn't help but loosen his cloak and expose a small smile. A warmth had spread throughout his body. Maybe there was hope for him after all.
