leigh writes fictions

When I have time, I write things. Short things, long things, hundred-thousand word things. You can find a bunch of them here.

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Finally.

I need a nap. No, scratch that. I need a weekend.

A weekend with champagne. :)

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Today I'm thankful for all the friends who have helped, cajoled, threatened, and encouraged me to keep at it.

My beta had some health trouble, I had a vacation, a crazy workload, family in town, and now I'm sick -- but I'm still writing. :) Slow but steady wins.

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spoilers

If I keep writing at this rate, I'll finish Red Ember before summer's end. (hahahahaha right.)

  Maybe not doing the forum exchange was the smart move. (I'm so sad about that. Is it wrong to hope someone drops out so I can fill in as a pinch-hitter?)

  A bit of chapter 20 is below the break. My beta plans to have it back soon, so provided she doesn't find anything heinously wrong, I'll be updating in about a week. Huzzah!

Slowly, Blaise sheathed his wand.

“Anything, Mudblood?” he asked softly, and she considered the degree of awfulness that “anything” probably inspired in Blaise Zabini.

But Charlie was white in a pool of red, and so she nodded.

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abandoned words

I was going through old files on my hard drive and couldn't remember what this is for. It doesn't quite stand alone; I think it wants a story to call home. I guess I'll have to find one ...

Wet earth clung to the beds of her nails as Ginny scrabbled across the damp ground, frantically groping for her wand. Rain and tears ran in streaks across her dirty face as a bolt of lightning lit the dark forest for just long enough for her to spot it, half buried in the sodden leaves that carpeted the ravine bed -- and long enough for her pursuer to spot her crawling toward it.

He plowed through the soaking undergrowth and into the ravine, bowling her over and snatching her wand in one hand before bringing it down onto a nearby boulder with a sickening crack.

He was on top of her before she could breathe, pressing her dirty cheek into the clammy, clingy brown leaves of the forest floor. He dropped the two halves of the wand in front of her face, and she could practically feel the ice in his voice as he hissed, "What have I said about running away?

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I need a good celebrate gifset

... because I just sent something to my beta reader.

*dances*

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I have a request for the fantastic fan fiction you're writing called Red Ember. Could you possibly make Draco a tad bit less scary please? Other than that its well written, entertaining, great plot, and your cliff hangers are awfully intoxicating :)

Erm, what if I promise he gets less scary by the end? I'm afraid he gets a little more scary before that happens, but there's a good reason. At least, I think it's a good reason. But what do I know? I am 100% that he's less scary by the end. How's that?

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grindstone

Starting the next chapter before I send this one to my beta has got to be some kind of record for me.

Or I'm just really stuck on Lucius's plot. Again. 

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Spoilers

Here's a little bitty piece of Red Ember, ch. 20.

If only she had a wand, she thought. She could practically see the Protego.

As suddenly as the thought entered her mind, Draco went flying onto the floor, wrenching her wrist out as he went. Ginny swore softly, clutching her arm to her chest.

A shield charm shimmered in front of her.

I'm past making promises about the when of this update, but the number of words I've written in the past two weeks is comforting.

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6000 words

That's enough for a chapter, right?

*insert headdesk gifset here*

No. No it is not.

[kiliansemma]

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Drabble: Balloon

prompt: balloon

characters: Lucius Malfoy, implied Draco/Ginny

Lucius watched his grandson, eyes bright with awe, turn the shiny, golden Galleon in his small hands. The young boy was oblivious to the bustling world of Diagon Alley just outside the shop window of Fontenescue's.

"A wonderful thing, is it not?" the older man said gravely. "Money is a powerful thing, Alexander. You can tear apart kingdoms and put them back together if you learn to wield it well."

Alexander looked up at him with the wide eyes he'd inherited from his mother. "Truly, Grandfather? Kingdoms?"

"Indeed," Lucius said, nodding. "That solitary Galleon shall be the first of many. If you're quite done with your ice cream, we'll head to Gringotts to open your first vault."

The child bent his red-gold head over his bowl and finished the sundae hastily. "Done."

"You've something on your chin," Lucius said austerely.

Alexander sighed and wiped at his face. "Okay, I'm ready now." He fingered the hard, gold metal as Lucius paid the bill, then jumped up to walk out ahead of his grandfather. He paused at the sidewalk and offered Lucius his small hand, which the older man took after a second's pause.

"Now, there are several things you must consider when investing your wealth," Lucius began, but his grandson interrupted him.

"Look! Grandfather! Balloons!"

Lucius turned to see a street vendor carrying a large bunch of balloons enchanted like animals. As he watched, an elephant-shaped balloon trumpeted his horn, and Lucius shuddered. Some people had no class when it came to the application of magical power.

But Alexander seemed to have other ideas. "Grandfather, I want a balloon! Please, Grandfather."

Lucius grasped the boy's hand firmly and strode away down the street. "No, Alexander. Those cost money, and they're a waste."

The boy tugged insistently. "No, Grandfather! I want the lion! And I have money!"

He yanked his hand away and sprinted back down the street. Lucius watched gravely as the boy handed his precious Galleon over to the vendor and received a roaring blue lion in return, then skipped back with glee, change clanging in his hands.

The elder man sighed and grasped the small hand again, pulling the five-year-old into the hallowed halls of Gringotts to open an account with sixteen sickles and twenty-one knuts.

Maybe he'd have to break tradition and bequeath the estate to little Giselle. She seemed extremely tight-fisted. For an infant.

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drabble: competitor

prompt: competitor pairing: potential Draco/Ginny

continued from the earlier drabble:new

"Stevens passes to Green—Green passes to Weasley—Weasley's closing on the goal—there's her famous Woollongong Shimmy—and Weasley puts it away! The Falcons are poised to set a world record tonight!"

Ginny waved and flashed a smile at the screaming crowd. Ron was going to kill her for practically murdering his favorite team, but the Cannons were playing worse than the Moose Jaw Meteorites, and that was saying something.

Green pulled up alongside her as the Chasers regrouped as the Cannon's keeper prepared to throw the Quaffle back into play.

"Think Malfoy will ever catch the bloody Snitch?" he whispered archly. "We're winning by nearly a thousand points. The Cannon's Seeker might be tempted to catch it just to end this ruddy nightmare and put her team out of this misery."

Ginny glanced up and spotted Malfoy, high above the pitch, staring intently at the stadium below him.

"Lay off. We're in prime position for a record-setting win. I'm not complaining, though my arse is getting tired of this broom—and not in the nice way," she said with a wink.

The Keeper threw the ball and she jetted up to seize it from an orange-clad Chaser. She tossed the red ball to Stevens, who easily scored again. The crowd, clearly sensing a historical game, cheered with hoarse voices.

Ginny looked at Draco, who hadn't moved. Mahoney and Green were going to give it to him in the locker room, and she didn't feel like defending the bloke to his face. For all that he didn't deserve the hazing, he was still a Malfoy.

Mahoney dropped down beside her. "We're a goal and a Snitch away from history, Weasley. And our Seeker's a goal and a Snitch away from competent."

Ginny glared. "And you're a goal and a Snitch away from satisfying your girlfriend, you lug."

Stevens whipped the Quaffle through the goal with alarming ease, and after a burst of cheers, the crowd went quiet. Everyone—from the referee to the spectators in the VIP box to the Cannons Keeper—had their eyes on Malfoy.

The rookie Seeker merely reached down and plucked the hovering Snitch from the air beside his knee with a smirk.

Ginny shook her head and grinned as the crowd let loose a deafening roar and Mahoney's jaw dropped open. Forget history books. This was the stuff of legend.

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drabble: new

prompt: new pairing: potential Draco/Ginny

Because I like a good Quidditch-themed story. And there's another one where this came from, to boot.

"Think they've picked the new Seeker?" asked Ginny, pulling her gray and white practice robes over her head and stuffing them into her locker.

Her burly teammate, Blake Mahoney, threw down his beater bat. "They better had. There's no way Crowley can play without fingers. Of all the things for a Seeker to Splinch," he said, shaking his head with a grimace.

Ginny cringed at the thought. "Poor bloke."

The rough-and-tumble Falmouth Falcons were cleaned up and in fresh, camera-ready robes by the time their coach, an ex-Beater with a face like a banged-up cobblestone, came tromping through the locker room.

"Press conference is in ten minutes, so I'll be brief," grunted Coach Bagley. "We're announcing that Draco Malfoy is joining the team as Seeker. Hardly needs an introduction, being a Malfoy, but he'll be addressing the press. Be there in five, happy faces on."

Mahoney groaned as the coach left. "And I really thought we had a shot at the League Cup."

Ginny jabbed him with the business end of her broom. "Who's to say we won't? My Woollongong Shimmy is near perfect. Cannons' won't know what hit them when we open next month."

"Maybe," chimed in Lance Green, a fellow Chaser, "But d'you think he bought his way in, or do the Galleons he spent on a custom broomstick make up for his lack of talent?"

"Seeker can make or break a solid team," said Mahoney, sorrowfully shaking his head.

Ginny thumped her wrist guard against his skull. "For all that he's a right git, I feel sorry for him. It's rotten enough to be the new guy without torment from the likes of you."

Green chuckled. "Little Lioness is protective of the cubby."

"Perhaps she's not insensitive to the male charm after all," jeered Mahoney. "I hear he's quite the pretty little cat."

Ginny folded her arms and quoted, "Let us win, but if we cannot win, let us break a few heads." She leveled a glare at them and added, "I'd rather beat in some Cannon heads, but you lot will do in a pinch."

She hefted her broom. "Oh, and if I remember Malfoy at all, call him anything resembling a lion and you'll wish your head beat itself in."

Ignoring her heckling team, she hefted her broom, strapped on her wrist guards, and went to meet her new teammate. Happy face on.

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drabble: tower

Prompt: Tower

Status: Completed

Pairing: Draco/Ginny

She hated that he was a full head taller than her.

Not that she'd admit that to his face. But Ginny was an athletic, competitive girl of greater than average height, and she was used to looking at her boyfriends in the eyes—or very nearly. And that was nothing a good pair of heels wouldn't fix.

So on their first date, when she realized that she had to look up to Draco Malfoy, she was cross.

"Why are you so damn tall?" she complained at dinner.

He smirked, and leaning back in his chair, stretched his long arms behind his head. "Good genes, excellent breeding, and all the best care a growing child could want," he said smoothly, leveling a smirk her direction. "Long, lean builds make for excellent Seekers. And excellence in other departments, too," he hinted meaningfully.

She folded her arms at the arrogant git. "As if being tall makes you better at 'horizontal activities.'"

"Don't have to be horizontal," he said affably, then lowered his voice. "And I said long builds, not tall."

She sneered, but changed the subject.

A few hours later found them at the front door of her flat, and she fumbled for her wand in the half-light as he stood at her elbow. His presence felt very large and very…male, and she couldn't help but snap,

"Merlin's nuts, Draco. Must you tower over me like that?"

He laughed quietly, a low, resonant sound. "You don't like that I'm so much taller than you," he chuckled.

"No. I don't," she said, finally grabbing her wand. "It's been lovely. I'll call sometime." With a quick Alohomora, she unlocked the door and reached for the handle, but he caught her wrist.

He pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her body so that she was pulled almost flush against him. Her nose grazed his collarbone, and his smell—cologne and books and something not unlike sweat—was instantly heady. He propped his chin on her hair for a moment, then tilted his face down and kissed the crown of her forehead before releasing her.

"I rather like being able to do that," he mused, then turned with a slight wave. "And I'll call you."

As soon as she remembered how to breathe, she sank through the door and into her flat. Perhaps height wasn't a deal-breaker. But she was still buying another pair of heels.

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drabble: the time of my life

Title: The Time of My Life Ship: Draco/Ginny  Status: Completed, 4 of 4 in an arc

This follows Silence, which follows Break Away, which follows Misfortune.

The air is too chilly to sneak outside for my usual fag, but she's watching me surreptitiously. I know she's waiting for me to take my leave, to take my fifteen minutes of respite from this ball.

By midnight, her patience is thin. One of her brothers addresses her quietly, and she jabs him with her fan. He grips her wrist and lowers it, and the telltale Weasley flush creeps up both necks as they try desperately to control those flaming tempers. It's been a long time since they've had a common foe.

The brother steps aside first and she harrumphs triumphantly. She weaves past him, ignoring all the silk-clad well-wishers that bow and curtsy as she passes, and steers herself through the swirling crowd to land at the bar.

I am busy pouring champagne for the midnight toast when she accosts me.

"When are you getting out of here?" she demands, her voice low and eager.

I top off a flute with a well-practiced flick of the wrist. "At four," I answer crisply.

"No, silly. When's your break?" She smiles, the happiest she's looked all night, and helps herself to a glass. I replace it without comment.

"Are you not enjoying your evening?" I say quietly, aware that I'm not answering her question.

She laughs and slaps the bar with her palm, and I realize this isn't her first glass of champagne. "And I thought you were perceptive, Malfoy! Can't you tell I'm having the time of my life?" Her laughter is pale.

"Then I pity you deeply," I murmur.

She leans across the bar, and the red satin of her gown pulls and bunches up against the polished wood, displaying the bare skin just below her already low neckline. I look away.

"Did you just say you pity me?" she asks incredulously, tipping the last of the champagne down her throat and taking another full flute.

I relieve her of the drink smoothly, ignoring the way her gloved fingers linger on my skin. "That's for the New Year toasts," I inform her. "And I think you've had enough."

"Are you protecting me? I'm Ginevra Weasley, war-hero and socialite. I have no need of protection," she crows.

"Friendship, then," I amend.

The mirth dies in her eyes, and she sits upright, resting her hands on the bar neatly. "Very well," she says quietly. "Friendship."

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drabble: silence

Title: Break Away Ship: Draco/Ginny  Status: Completed, 3 of 4 in an arc

This follows Break Away, which follows Misfortune.

"We need to stop meeting like this," she says with a half-laugh.

I am silent, but I watch the way she stands boyishly, hunched against the wall so that the fine blue satin of her ball gown hangs and crumples in a way that would make her dressmaker cry bitter tears. She drags on her cigarette with an unaccustomed easiness and puffs smoke into the starry night sky.

"Strong silent type, hm Malfoy?" she inquires, still gazing at the night sky. She shivers a little, and I realize that the night is chilly. The summer season is nearly ended, and her shoulders are bare.

She laughs suddenly, a hollow, bell-like sound. "No, you were always the one with the bullying retort. Nott played the silent type. Merlin knows what part he's playing now," she says dismissively.

I do not feel compelled to tell her that Nott is dead, so I shrug and lift my face toward the stars. They are cool and soundless in their distance, barely twinkling in this clear autumn sky. Some things do not change, no matter the movements of wizards. The thought comforts me.

"I'm a rebel," she says suddenly, straightening carefully and dragging her toes along the fine gravel as she stands to her full height. Her shoes, I assume, have been abandoned once more. She watches me, and I do not give her the satisfaction of shock.

Instead, I smile. "Rebellion is overrated."

She crows. "I knew you still knew how to smirk, Draco."

My name hangs in the air for a moment, and she settles back against the wall. "You probably still know how to do a lot more than smirk," she says quietly, and I meet her fierce brown eyes.

"I know how to sneak away from my job for a cig and some silence during a crowded cotillion," I say deliberately, taking a drag on my own fag. "And for me, that is quite enough."

She sighs, murmuring her agreement. We both look up at the stars.

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drabble: break away

Title: Break Away Ship: Draco/Ginny Status: Completed, 2 of 4 in an arc

This follows Misfortune, and is just as experimental. ^_^

She catches my eye because she's hovering at the edge of the room, carefully avoiding the gravitational pull of the swirling ball gowns. Rather than sitting like the other women around the room, she seems content to stand, and with a stealthy glance around the room, she slips off her shoes and hides them under the billowing satin of her skirt.

The orchestra strikes up another celebratory tune, and yet another distinguished looking gentleman approaches her with something resembling refinement. He's an amateur actor, but the stage is a cheap one and the lighting lacking, and so the baby aristocracy is bamboozled by itself once more. She, however, is not. She takes the offered drink, hints at a smile, and summarily dismisses the cheap player with a brush of her shoulders.

A woman who doesn't comprehend that moderation is the key to appreciating fine vintage interrupts my observation, and I lose sight of the unsociable young woman. Her shoes lie abandoned against the far wall, but the warm red tones of her hair have fled the room.

I pick up a pack of cigs and glance at my boss. He nods, and I take my leave of the bar. The kitchen garden isn't lit, and the flare from my wand shines brightly as I light a fag.

She's leaning against the wall, staring at the stars. I walk over and hand her a fag. She smiles wearily, thinks about declining, and then slips it out of my fingers with a shrug.

"Hard to survive these things without one," I tell her, lighting the tip.

She takes the first puff and grimaces, but bravely inhales again.

"I can see why."

I lean against the wall beside her, and she sighs. "I never thought it would be like this."

"Inaugural balls aren't really your thing?"

She laughs bitterly. "My thing is fighting evil and loving my family. Impossible these days." She looks at me, almost surprised. "What about you? Your thing was money and power, and now you're—"

"Happy."

I watch as her surprise melts into envy, then sorrow.

"I used to be jealous of all your money. Only child, new everything. When you got the Nimbus 2000s, remember?"

I nod, and she turns her face back up to the sky and takes a long drag.

"Maybe my fate is to always be jealous of you, Draco Malfoy," she whispers.