Author's Note: I declared a prompt war against Dysonrules on LJ, also known as Cheryl Dyson on (see my favourite authors for her account). This is called the Le Obscure Prompt war. This is my story to round one; you can view her corresponding story at her account
Summary: Post-War, Harry fancies himself nervous
Written for the prompts: St. Johns Wort, macaroni, thumbtacks, and a caterpillar
Nervous
Harry snatched a basket and whizzed off down the nearest aisle. He had sent Draco off to a nearby café with a crisp twenty in his hand, and hoped in vain that it would give him half an hour to shop in peace without the blonde nuisance dogging his every step. Holland and Barrett's was a little slice of paradise for Harry. It was a shop that sold all of his needs in little packets and bottles at reasonably unfair prices, and for the last couple of years, Harry made fortnightly visits to the store to stock up on all his remedies.
That's right. Remedies. Since the war…or possibly since the first time Draco had attempted to frisk him in the middle of a battlefield, Harry fancied himself nervous.
Once upon a time his hands were steady, and his face was always lit with a confident smile, and people used to look up at him and know he was a strong, young soldier fighting for the cause. Now he was just plain nervous. His anxiety disorder had definitely worsened since dating Draco. But after five years of the blonde menace, and though Harry loved him very much, he definitely needed something to calm his disposition otherwise his partner would educe cardiac arrest.
Harry strode quickly past the shelves of weight management, the hair care and facial products, until he came to the second aisle. Oh the second aisle. A small glimmer of hope on the horizon. Slowly, Harry began to pace up and down, looking for familiar bottles and packets.
The first item to enter his basket was crystallized ginger, often used to dissuade nausea symptoms. Harry suffered from nausea every time he allowed Draco to drive the car, and a packet of the sugared root was kept in the glove compartment. Four hundred grams of the little bag did not last long, since Draco had got his provisional license through the post. He also chucked in a box of Rosemary Pure Essential Oils because the illusion aromatherapy was always needed when Draco was generous enough to give a grind-your-bones-into-dust massage.
Within five minutes of shopping, the basket was cluttered high.
A bottle of Optimum Oil Blend for a natural supplement of fatty acids, because Harry forgets to obtain enough in his diet. He was always anxious that his food might be poisoned, and so had resorted to being a vegie. Packet of Pumpkin Seeds, two hundred grams of Cashew nuts, Dried Goji berries, a bottle of Tea Tree Oil that relieved stress during bath time, and some herbal tea bags. And Prelox tablets to increase blood flow to the penis, because how could anyone possibly expect to maintain an erection while the bitchy bottom yells out things like, 'I think your belly button just winked at me' or 'don't squash Gilbert'?
Harry was just picking up his bottle of St Johns Wort tablets that helped him with his anxiety headaches when a loud voice echoed over the shop, making Harry duck behind the sachets of plant extracts, hoping to conceal himself. "Hello tree huggers! Sprout! You in here?!"
Harry groaned. How embarrassing. 'Sprout' was the nickname Draco had affectionately dubbed Harry after he turned vegetarian two years ago. Straightening up, he saw Draco standing at the entrance of Holland and Barrett's with a Styrofoam container and a plastic fork in hand, both tools that would environmentally offend the founders of the shop. Draco smiled and made his way towards Harry.
"I thought you were eating at Maury's."
"I was," said Draco and he gestured to the food in his left hand. "I didn't fancy a dead pig today, so I grabbed something to go. Macaroni?" Draco offered a bit of yellow and pink on his fork to Harry, poking him in the cheek as Harry shook his head.
"No. That might have animal juices in it."
"Only ham," shrugged Draco, putting the forkful between his own lips. He chewed loudly and skewed another piece of pasta, eyeing up the bottle of St. Johns Wort tablets. "Why can't you use aspirin like normal people?"
"Do you know how many chemicals are in that?" replied Harry, throwing the bottle into the basket, knowing that by the time he reached the counter, he would have a headache. Harry continued to march along the aisles, racking up a small fortune in packets and potions while Draco violated the no-food rule. The rule was definitely violated when Draco threw his empty takeaway at another customer, yelling, "Dirty hippy!"
"Draco. Put the donkey penis down," sighed Harry, putting a bottle of soothing salts into the basket to counteract the trauma of his boyfriend joining his shopping venture. Draco petulantly placed the packet back on the self. Harry watched him suspiciously, making sure that Draco wasn't going to shoplift.
Instead, Draco pulled out something small and brown from his pocket, and Harry groaned. Putting the basket down, he moved over to Draco and hissed, "I cannot believe you brought him. Hide him or they'll never serve me again."
Draco cradled the small caterpillar away from Harry and replied in a voice equally like a wet cat, "No. He's sociable." Harry didn't care how sociable Gilbert was, he didn't want to be seen with a tortured caterpillar.
Gilbert was Draco's pet. Adopted after Draco had found it on one of the potted plants on their balcony, and he had quickly sorted the bug to be his new familiar after his owl had expired the year before. Harry thought Gilbert should be dead by now because firstly, he didn't believe a caterpillar could be a caterpillar for nine months without pupating, and secondly, Draco liked to stick thumbtacks in Gilbert to watch yellow pus come out. Harry had learnt to buy blue tack instead of thumbtacks to pin things up about the house. He was squeamish, and the idea that Draco had downgraded his torture techniques from humans to bugs since the war made him nervous. He'd rather live in ignorance of Draco's sadistic tendencies than have to add more tablets to his ever growing pill-popping routine.
"Put Gilbert away!" snapped Harry as they neared the tills. The headache was forming. Draco hugged Gilbert and made a distinctly rude gesture that made the checkout girl gasp.
Deciding that they needed to leave quickly before RSPCA were called, Harry jogged down the fourth aisle and quickly deposited two packages on top of the heap of organic medication in his basket. The first packet was 'Snoreeze' which Harry inconspicuously sprayed into Draco's mouth every night to stop his snoring. The packet proudly claimed to relax the throat muscles that led to snoring, and Draco always choked a little in his sleep, but never regained consciousness when Harry zapped him silent. The other packet was bought in conjunction with Snoreeze. 'Peace Night' were little herbal sleeping pills to help Harry ensure he didn't look like a zombie the next day because the damn Snoreeze didn't do what it said on the box.
Harry quickly returned to Draco at the checkouts and his chest constricted as he saw Draco's tear strained face. "Oh my god, what's wrong?"
Draco pointed an accusing finger at the checkout girl, "Gilbert was on the conveyer belt and she squished him!"
Sighing, Harry still fancied himself nervous.
Fin
Author's Note: I admit defeat. Lady Dyson is too worthy adversary for me to fight any longer. She has clearly won this war with her awe-inspiring Round Four, Colin's Revenge (View at her account)
This seems like the end of the war...but as history and Hitler have shown, peacetime is fleeting. I have already discussed the matter with Lady Dyson and she has accepted the challenge of another prompt war. Le Obscure Prompt War 2, shall be a Phrase war. Rules and submissions of this sequel war shall be notified to the community when I return from holiday (having to flee the country from Dyson's prowess shakes head in shame)
As Victor, Dyson has recieve one final prompt from me that she will read to the community on a poduim of gold and a bouquet in her arms! The following prompts for Lady Dyson's sprint across the victory line are thus: A stubby pensil, a box of Smarties, a corset, and a penalty prompt of 'hospital'.
