CIRCADIAN RHYTHM
Afternoons
Flowers
No witch had given him flowers before. It would be carrying coals to Newcastle to give this particular witch flowers, so Filius had given her chocolates the first time he'd called and elderberry cordial the next. He was nervous throughout lunch, wondering whether the flowers had been a good sign, and whether his sentimental tears on accepting them had been fatal to their burgeoning relationship. When Filius suggested a postprandial stroll, Pomona shook her head, smiling. Now, as he lay beside her, tickling her tummy with a rosebud, he knew the flowers had been a very good sign, indeed.
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Tea
He was coming over that afternoon. She'd stuff him with sandwiches and biscuits, pretending to be even battier than she was. Arabella looked over at her fireplace; her other guest should arrive soon. She'd bought the finest smoked Irish salmon that morning, knowing her guest wouldn't deign to eat what she normally served her cats. Arabella would make her report, noting that Harry was as normal a nine-year-old as possible given his unfortunate environment. And when Harry sat having tea, a tabby cat would curl up beside him, place her head on his knee, purring as he pet her.
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Accuracy
Ever since she played Chaser in a miserable pick-up game of Quidditch, Minerva realised that, although her paw-eye coordination was excellent, her hand-eye coordination had suffered after years of wand-use. She now took every opportunity to ensure that the next time she played Quidditch, she could aim the Quaffle. Minerva had become so familiar with her wastebasket, she could accurately toss a wadded parchment into it from anywhere in the room, whether she could see it or not. Now, on a leisurely afternoon, feet up, reading Transfiguration Today, she tossed her apple core behind her.
"Ouch!"
"Oops! Sorry, Albus!"
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Heat
His eyes returned to her. He quickly averted them. He'd only recently noticed what a voluptuous figure she had. He knew he shouldn't look at her like this. There was the large age-difference, for one. And his Dark Mark. Not to mention that if she realised he was looking at her, his gaze always falling somewhere other than her face, she'd slap him, then hex him, before finally laughing at him. If it weren't such a hot afternoon, if she were more covered up, he could resist.
"Everything all right, Severus?"
"Fine, Poppy, fine," he said irritably, looking away.
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Summertime
This drabble can be found on other sites where this fic is posted. It contains explicit language and I want to keep my fics on ffnet "teen-friendly."
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A/N: Sorry about not posting the set in its entirety, but I am posting these elsewhere on the Web, as well. Check my profile for the other sites where I post fics in order to find them posted without deletions. BTW, regarding "Tea," the smoked salmon is for Arabella's other guest -- the one who won't eat Arabella's regular cat food. Arabella does not feed cat food to Harry. Biscuits a bit past their prime, perhaps, but not cat food! (There appear to be a few confused readers.)
