A shit fuck mood

Just like the title says.

I'm in a shit fuck mood and in need of something to do to cheer me up.

If you have a PG/PG-13 drabble (100 wordish, please) and want it translated, please amend to this post.

First 10 people for now, though I might do this in waves. Please specify Italian (preferred), German, or French.

So fucking pissed right now. I can't fucking believe I'm about to say this, but the happier the drabble right now the better.

--P

For Cawti

Her drabble:

Harry doesn't laugh out loud. Ron's used to noise, grew up with his mother's shreiking admonitions, the twin's near-manical chortling, Bill's sarcasm, his father's low rumble, Ginny's shrill giggle. He doesn't know if it's natural or a remnant of the cage Harry lives in through the summers, lived in for too many years, but Harry doesn't laugh.

But when Ron pulls back, panting, both of them mussed and blushing, Harry smiles. And that's even better.


The translation:

Harry non ride ad alta voce. Ron è abituato al rumore, è cresciuto con una madre che strillava i suoi rimproveri, con il ridere pazzesco dei gemelli, il sarcasmo di Bill, con il brontolio constante di suo padre, la risatina stridula di Ginny. Non sa se è naturale o il residuo della gabbia in cui Harry vive durante l'estate, dove ha vissuto per troppi anni, ma Harry non ride.

Ma quando Ron si ferma, ansimando, tutti e due disordinati e arrossiti, Harry sorride. Ed è molto meglio.

For CKR

My French isn't top notch, but here goes...

Her drabble

His eyes are the colour of the killing curse, the colour of powerful magic, old magic.

When he lies beneath me, our bodies fused together, those green eyes stare into my soul and mark me far more effectively than Voldemort ever did.

I don’t wear this mark on the outside – instead, I wear it on my heart, in my soul, right where he can see it.

And at night, when he sleeps in my arms, I think of those green, green eyes and wonder how I tamed such power and turned it from a boy’s hate into a man’s love?

The translation

Ses yeux sont la couleur de la malédiction de massacre, la couleur de la magie puissante, la vieille magie.

Quand il se trouve sous moi, que nos corps ont fusionné, ces yeux verts regardent fixement dans mon âme et marquez-moi bien plus efficacement que Voldemort a jamais.

Je ne porte pas cette marque sur l'extérieur -- au lieu de cela, je le porte sur mon coeur, dans mon droite d'âme où il peut le voir.

Et la nuit où il dort dans des mes bras, je pense à ces yeux verts verts et merveille comment j'ai apprivoisé une telle puissance et tourné lui d'une haine de garcon dans un amour de l'homme?

For Alchemia

Little unsure on this. If anyone sees correcting, let me know! Trying to vastly improve the German.

Her drabble -- Severus Snape/Harry Potter

Not here, the boy gasps, they’ll hear.

Can’t Wait.

Lips against lips, tongue against tongue, hands trailing down...

Oh God!

Hush boy.

Can’t.

He pulls off his scarf, presses it into the boy’s mouth, and wraps it around, snug.

Hush boy.

The translation

Nicht hier, keucht der Junge, sie werden uns hören.

Kann nicht warten.

Lippen an Lippen, Zunge an Zunge, Hände, die hinuntergleiten...

Oh Gott!

Sei still, Junge.

Ich kann nicht.

Er nimmt seinen Schal ab, drückt ihn dem Jungen in den Mund und wickelt ihn fest.

Still, Junge.

ETA: Many thanks to kaysha for betaing my German.