Attention, ces drabbles ne sont pas écrits en français ! Les non-anglophones, demi-tour !

Ceci étant dit, une explication. Ces drabbles sont inédits, et ont été écrit sur commande d'une amie qui avait envie d'une truc en anglais pour s'entraîner à la traduction. Les prompts viennent d'elle. Précisons que ces textes sont assez basiques, puisqu'écrits à toute vitesse et donc peu travaillés.

Vous me direz ce que vous en pensez, hein.

Sandwich

« Hurry up, hurry up, we're running late already ! » The Weasley matriarch was herding her little troop onto the Hogwarts Express. She bent and retrieved a handful of carefully wrapped packages from her handbag. « Here's your lunch, and do remember to chew before you swallow. »

« Is it corned beef ? » Ron asked.

« Of course not, dear. Here, give your mum a hug. » She opened her arms and proceeded to crush her youngest son to her ample bosom. « My little Ronny, already going away all on his own ! »

« Muuuuum ! » She let go of him.

« Try not to follow in Fred and George's footsteps, please. And don't skip your homework, you know I'll notice ! »

« Yes mum ! » Ron got a second hug and finally managed to board the train. He checked his sandwich. Corned beef.

Damn.

Cat

Minerva Mc Gonagall deeply enjoyed the occasional midnight stroll in the corridors in her cat form. It was truly quite soothing, leaving her human mind behind and not having anything more important to worry about than the cold stone under her paws and this crisp scent in the air that usually foretold the arrival of snow.

At the corner of a corridor, from behind an ancient suit of armor, she heard a low, high-pitched keening sound. Mrs Norris was there, hissing and spitting at her, her back bent in an arch. There had been an immediate and solid distaste between the two cats ever since they'd first met.

Minerva stopped in her tracks, before sitting down calmly and proceeding to stare Mrs Norris down with her most disdainful gaze. The other cat left after a satisfyingly short amount of time, and Minerva resumed her wandering smugly.

Yes, really quite soothing.

Game

« I'm bored. »

« Me too. »

« Chess ? »

« Sure. »

« For what are we playing ? »

« Tonight's dishes ? »

« You're on. »

A long a focused silence.

« Check. »

« Checkmate. »

« Ah, shoot ! How do you do that ? How come I've never managed to win a single time against you in six years. »

« I'm a genius. And you're a lousy chess player, too. »

« Duh, thanks. »

« My pleasure. Want a return game ? »

« To lose and wash the dishes all week ? No thanks, I got enough of that at the Dursleys. »

« Wuss. »

« Am not ! »

« Yes you are. »

« You're on ! I'll get you yet, Weasley, just you wait and see ! »

Treat

He'd received so many treats for Christmas, he didn't know where to begin. There were chocolates, dark and melting in your mouth like a charm, toffees sticky and sweet, his Gran's homemade crunchy biscuits, charmed to stay fresh for months, and all sorts of colorful candies.

What to eat first ? He was torn.

He decided to close his eyes, extend his hand and let fate decide for him. Ever the lucky one, Neville grabbed a bottle of ink. Then he tried eany meany mo, but there were too many choices, and he always got the words wrong anyway.

He finally settled for sharing with his dorm mates. Then there would be a lot less treats, it would be easier to choose. He only hope he had any left after Seamus was finished.

Love

Love, Harry mused as he watched Ron and Hermione playing footsie under the library table when they thought no one could see them, was quite a complicated thing.

He thought about his aunt, smiling at Uncle Vernon and telling him he was really quite handsome in his new suit when it just made him look like a blimp. Though the suit could hardly be blamed for that, Uncle Vernon was a blimp. She seemed sincere, then.

He thought about Mrs Weasley, glancing tensely at her clock, waiting for her husband to come back, worrying because he was late and Death Eaters were running free. When he arrived, she would welcome him with a waggling finger and an admonition not to scare her so again, and then give him something warm to eat with the sweetest smile.

He thought about Ginny, who dumped Dean the second she felt he was becoming too attached without remorse.

He thought about Ron, who had been to scared of being rejected to ask Hermione out.

He thought about Hermione, who had been scared of never being asked out by Ron.

He thought about himself, who had told her to ask him herself, not because he wanted to see them together, but because he wanted to see them happy. They were so wrapped up in each other since that he constantly felt like a third wheel, but he didn't regret his decision.

Yes, love was quite a complicated thing indeed.