A shit fuck mood

[themostepotente]

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

Comments

[gatewaygirl.livejournal.com]

This is three times drabble-length, and just to cheer you up, not to translate. I wrote it just now, but I was working on happy, rather than trying to get one of your preferred pairs -- I hope it's okay.

Feel better!

Gg

---

When they showed up for the Christmas celebrations, Mrs. Weasley was gracious. She wasn't gracious in a poised, society sort of way; she was gracious for real, treating Harry with the same warmth she always had.

Mrs. Weasley was gracious, so Harry tried to be discreet. The social rearrangements of the last few months had not been easy on her. First, Fleur had switched from Bill to Charlie, who was perhaps better equipped for peaceable co-existence with a dangerous magical creature; he didn't mind that she spent much of the week in the city, and he accepted her anonymous lovers there as necessary to her nature. The transfer of her affections had been gradual and almost amiable -- everyone but their parents had seen the change coming. Bill had been a month into a grueling joint project with Harry (Bill as researcher, Harry as blood supply and Legilimentic link to Voldemort) to break the curse that affected more and more members of the Order. Within days of Fleur's move, Bill and Harry had fallen into bed and into love. Again, everyone but the senior Weasleys had seen it coming -- before Bill and Harry had, if they were to be believed.

Mrs. Weasley had been taken off-guard by both these things, so Harry tried to be discreet, but he could see that Bill was hurt to be kept at arms length. After dinner, Bill pulled him into the deserted kitchen and asked what was wrong. Harry explained. Bill shook his head.

"You don't understand. If you don't touch me, she'll think you don't love me, and will worry more than ever."

When Mrs. Weasley found them kissing in the kitchen, pressed together as tight as winter clothing would allow, tongues seeking desperately for more taste of the other, she was gracious. Harry even saw her smile.

[themostepotente.livejournal.com]

This was so sweet! *melts* Thank you so much :-)