Christmas 2003
It's December again! This is our second Christmas at the Armchair, and to celebrate we've decided to show our appreciation for our featured authors and artists by giving armchairers an opportunity to give them back what they've so generously given to us: artwork and fanfics.
Go here to view the artwork for this challenge.
To read the scene excerpts chosen by each of our featured authors, follow the links below. Thanks very much to Merin and Verdant for putting this challenge together.
Aja
Fic for Art: Scene #1: I've always secretly wanted to see this excerpt from "Who Loves the Rain" in fanart form:
He looked blindingly beautiful standing with his fists clenched like that, his shoulders back, head lifted in a posture of complete defiance. So perfectly the hero. Standing there abysmally wet and not even caring.
In a moment of truth destined to live in his memory forever Draco reached up, yanked a fistful of the wet black mop, and seethed, "I can't watch you die when I live to hate you." He held shocked emerald eyes for a moment before letting go and lowering his arm. He was very aware of the rain now, how it fell onto his eyelashes and covered him with false tears.
And he was very aware of the closeness between them, of how the other boy was reaching over and returning the favor by grabbing a lock of his silver, rain-soaked hair and pulling his head down fiercely to whisper,"You and I are meant to fight. Why can't we fight on the same side?"
And even as he was reeling from the plea behind those words he was aware of an arm coming up to grip his shoulder; of the hand in his hair moving back against his neck, almost like a cradle, as lips whose redness scorched the gray all around them pressed firmly against his own, lapping up the droplets of water on his mouth, gentle and hard and sweetly bitter all at once on his tongue.
Scene #2: Excerpt from Love Under Will, Chapter 14:
He stared with a desperate will at the portrait of his grandmother. She did not curtsey. Her gaze was fixed in a hard stare on his visitor, and when her turn came to be addressed, she only bent her head in a stiff nod, her fingers wrapping tightly around the rosary in her hand. Draco stared, and her gazed snapped to his own as she lifted her chin again. The look in her eyes was soft and still hard at once--something Draco knew was meant for him. He did not understand it; did not think he could; but it imbued him with strength.
Yes. He could handle this. He would.
Fic for Fic: people are always asking me if I'm going to write a sequel to Strip/Tease! and I never will, but I've always thought it would be nice if someone could tell us what happens next.
Amalin
Fic for Art: the scene from "Still Life" during Harry and Draco's confrontation in the lily pad painting, OR the scene in the butterfly painting in Hermione's office.
Fic for Fic: I'd like someone to fill in the gaps between Ch. 8 and 9 of "Two Lost Souls".
Cinnamon
The same scene is to be used for her art and fiction request.
From Beautiful World:
They went next to a small orchard on the south side of the house. The trees each grew a wild assortment of different fruits and berries, each which grew naturally frosted with sugar. The effect was that they looked covered in a fine sprinkling of ice, and the starlight reflected off of the sugar and made them glitter like diamonds.
Draco surveyed the orchard thoughtfully and then chose a sugared grape tree and easily leapt into the lower branches and pulled himself up. Harry watched him climb easily, and then called uncertainly, "What are you doing?"
"Come up," Draco replied, laughing quietly. "Surely you know how to climb a tree."
"Never have before," Harry admitted, biting his lip and having no idea where to even begin.
"You've never climbed a tree?" Draco cried, as he swung back down and held his hand out. "C'mon, I'll help you. Don't let go and I won't let you fall."
He pulled Harry up into the branches and they climbed until they were surrounded by glimmering grapes, coated in a fine layer of sugar themselves, which fell from the branches every time they shook.
Draco leaned back against the trunk, balancing easily where the branch joined it, and Harry slipped onto his lap, so he was cradled against his chest. He was suddenly aware of how very late it was, and his eyes fluttered sleepily.
Draco held a sugared grape to his lips. "Eat this before you sleep," he whispered, breath brushing Harry's ear.
"Why?" he asked, voice husky with sleep.
"Because we didn't come all this way to climb my father's sugared grape tree and not eat a few," Draco admonished, pushing the grape against his mouth. Harry relented with a sleepy giggle and let his mouth open a bit. Draco pushed the grape inside.
"Shoulda climbed a cherry tree," Harry mumbled, smiling a little and resting his head on Draco's shoulder, closing his eyes. "I hate grapes."
He fell asleep then, slipping away peacefully, for the first time in nearly a month content enough to sleep undisturbed by nightmares.
durendal
Fic for Art: i don't care! i am always surprised to get anything! i don't really care as long as the people who make them are having fun
Fic for Fic: i always wanted to know if h and d ever actually got together after How Harry Potter Got His Groove Back (yes, i evilly concocted that title just to annoy you). the fanfic has a life of its own, you understand. but i could never seem to write it as my romance skillz are fo shit. yes, you may quote me.
Maya
Fic for Art: I suppose a drawing of the Underwater Light kiss from Chapter 12 would be lovely?
"I'm sorry, come on," he said, and Harry took his hand even though the boat was still shaking and Draco pulled him out too fast, so he gasped and almost stumbled, and Draco laughed again with the breathless glee of this whole day, and dropped Harry's hand while Harry was still unsteady. The light of the sinking sun was gold in his windblown hair and Harry was - was happy, and laughing too, and still caught in that moment where he was about to fall.
He leaned forward and grabbed the front of Draco's robes, almost to keep his balance, and just as they both stopped laughing he kissed him on the mouth.
Harry shut his eyes, the outline of the sun around Draco's hair vivid on the darkness behind his eyelids. There was an instant where his mind was empty of all thought and Draco's lips were so soft.
Then his eyes blinked open, and he started back and looked at Draco.
Penguin
Fic for Art: Actually I've always wanted art for this scene in Dragonweed, when Harry watches a semi-naked Draco in the garden at Hogwarts:
The boy on the stone balustrade is Draco Malfoy, the very reason why I had to run outside and gulp night air. He sits with his back against a stone pillar which is covered with ivy and the rampant climbing roses. Near his head some of the white flowers glow faintly in the strange light, shimmering and floating. The moonlight glitters on the lake behind him, but he doesn^-t look at either the lake or the roses. He sits half turned towards the gardens, and the rippling light on the water behind him obscures his face. He has taken off his robes and his shirt. They hang neatly folded over the balustrade beside him and he is naked to the waist; the smooth planes and curves and hollows of his upper body sculpted with moonlight and shadow. As he leans his head back against the stone pillar to look up at the starry sky, the cold light catches his sharp face, and his strange, grey eyes hold nothing of their usual arrogance. They look dreamy and slightly puzzled, as if he is thinking about something that gives him pleasure but which he does not quite comprehend.
I stand frozen in the deep shadow under the big cedar tree. If I had wanted to keep up our antagonistic relationship I would be in the perfect position to humiliate him--after all, he sits there half-naked under an arch of roses like a slightly indecent fairytale prince. I could just saunter up to him and start our conversation with "Moonbathing, Malfoy? No wonder you never get a tan," but the temptation isn't there. Instead I have trouble breathing again, and I know that if I go up to him now, the temptation will be a very different one. A night for held breaths. Only Malfoy can arrange himself in a tableau like this and manage not to look ridiculous in the least, just completely natural, graceful and poised. He has a cat-like instinct for decorativeness, placing himself where he is shown to his best advantage and making it all look very casual. I literally hold my breath. I don't want to break the moment. I just want to stay in the shadow and hold this perfect picture. Dark foliage, glittering water, the dreaming boy with the light playing over his pale face and silvery hair. My fingers twitch. I want to trace them over that white, perfect skin. Is he hot or cold to the touch?
There was a time when the only physical contact with Malfoy I desired was letting my fist connect with his jaw. I would have loved to see that haughty smirk break up in confusion and pain. Now there is no trace of a smirk on his face, and I can't help myself. I give in. I eat him with my eyes; I let them slide from his lips down the delicate neckline; I rest them on the soft shadows above his collar-bones, on the almost unnoticeable rising and falling of his chest, wondering what it would be like to feel his pulse beat against the tip of my tongue as I touch it to the hollow at the base of his throat.
So - art for that scene would make me very happy!
Fic for Fic: What could be a better Christmas present for a penguin than a little spin-off, or rather backstory, to "Snow Angels"? ...and I would like to know what really happened in Hogsmeade four weeks ago. :)
Plumeria
Fic for Art: use this Park Bench scene for potential inspiration:That first lunch spawned others (although the gardener noticed that the blond man brought his own lunch after that). There was still no rhyme or reason to their visits; they seemed to come to their bench on their own whims. And, more often than not, they began to come without any visible responsibilities. No quills, no parchment; they'd just sit side-by-side on the bench, watch the birds or gaze at the stream, and just talk. Their habit of arguing seemed to extend beyond their professional positions but, as before, their squabbles never lasted long, and seemed somehow to add to the strength of their friendship, rather than detract from it.
After a time, they seemed to grow more comfortable saying nothing at all. By now, the gardener was finding their presence not only fascinating, but soothing. It was a bit like his own life, reminding him of his own friendships.
Until he caught them kissing.
He'd been busy clearing away a large branch which had fallen during the previous night's storm, and didn't manage to slip off to the hidden clearing until mid-afternoon. The path came out behind the bench, but even from that angle there was no mistaking the activity.
The gardener barely managed to smother his stunned gasp. His initial reaction was to be disgusted, to turn away, yet he found himself rooted to the spot in the shadows at the edge of the trees. Emotions warred within him -- it was wrong, it was unnatural! Yet he had seen these two men together so many times now that, despite his prejudice, it didn't seem so odd. Without knowing a thing about them, he nonetheless had been watching their body language for weeks. Getting over his shock, he now saw the hesitation in their kissing, as if they, too, were unsure what to think. But it didn't last long; hands came up to cup the blond's neck, pulling him closer, while pale fingers tangled in the messy black hair. The kisses grew deeper.
The gardener did turn away then. He still wasn't sure how he felt, but even the strangest couples deserved some privacy.
Fic for Fic: from Draco in Darkness, chapter 3:
Draco felt Harry's elbow suddenly jab him in the ribs, and he grabbed at the other boy's arm as the unseen poke knocked him slightly off balance. "Hey, what are you trying to do? Knock me downstairs?" Like lightning, he felt Harry reach out for his other arm, Seeker's grasp strong and sure, and pull hi back to a balanced position. "Er-sorry about that," came the Gryffindor's voice, all seriousness again. "I was only joking. I didn't think about.... I mean, I didn't intend to poke so hard." Harry was still holding him by the arms, even though Draco had quickly regained his balance. He was suddenly too tired to get very angry at Harry's unthinking action. He knew he was standing right on the threshold of the last flight of stairs, and all he wanted was to just get there, back to his dormitory where he could move around on his own, send an owl to Flitwick, and pretend this whole moment of dependence had never happened. "Forget it, Potter," he murmured, as Harry released his other arm. "Just - let's get this last bit over with, okay?" They started down, and in minutes were at the stone wall where the Slytherin entrance was located.
Sara
Fic for Art: If it's art, I'd love to see someone handle, well, any of my pornier scenes. Is anyone willing to draw the dirty bits? Cos if so, I'd love to see someone tackle this scene from BDSM: A Love Story:
Harry strained against the bonds keeping him in place as Malfoy undressed with painful and deliberate slowness. He didn^-t want to push his hips up, really he didn't, but Malfoy was grinding against him now, harder and harder and Harry couldn't help it. His hips bucked, his erection pressing against Malfoy's ass, and Harry gasped aloud, unable to keep himself from whispering Malfoy's name.
Carefully, Malfoy adjusted his hips, drawing them closer together and pushing them against each other, hot and hard through layers of fabric. "Look at me, Potter," he said, and tipped Harry's chin up with a finger while letting the shirt slip from his shoulders.
Hmm, yes. That.
Fic for Fic: As for fanfic, I've always been intrigued by the idea of someone writing a sequel of sorts to Control. I guess anything inspired by a fic of mine would be cool to receive.
Vinagrette
Fic for Art: Art request from "Two Days":
"Harry had his hands over his face when Draco got up the courage to walk into the room. Once he stepped up beside the other boy, Harry threw his hands in the air and screamed, "Peek-a-boo!" Just managing to grab onto Harry's wrist before he got a smack in the face, Draco looked at the baby who had just fallen down and was wrapping herself in a small yellow blanket, and laughing while doing it.
"Sweet, isn't it?" Harry crooned, reaching with his free hand into the crib to hand the baby what appeared to be a plush hippogriff.
"Something like that..." Draco responded, bringing Harry's arm down to his side, although not letting go of his hand. "It's writhing again," he stated quite blankly, his hand immediately tightening over Harry's.
With a wince, Harry drew his arm out of Draco's vice-grip. "That's what babies *do*, Draco. She's entertaining herself."
Draco crossed his arms and pouted, staring down into the wiggling form in the crib. "I want to be entertained."
Harry reached into the crib and proceeded to cover and uncover the baby's eyes. It started making that "laughing" noise again. "It's just two more days, Draco, okay? We were the only people with space for the crib."
"Wouldn't have had room if we had turned this space into a drinking lounge like I had suggested," Draco muttered, just loud enough for Harry to hear.
"You can get drunk in the kitchen," was the reply.
With a sigh, Draco leaned forward against the railing of the crib, fighting the urge to scream as he watched the baby suckle on Harry's index finger. The noises it was making were nearly unbearable. He decided it wouldn't have been so bad if Harry weren't smiling down at the thing. "If I sat in the crib, would you let me do that?" Draco ventured."
Fic for Fic: Request from "I Found You":
A small moan slipped from between Harry's lips as he worked his way back up to Draco's mouth, connecting them yet again in a searing kiss which sent both boys into a ravenous frenzy, as inexperienced hands grasped, groped, and fondled recklessly.
Seconds and minutes passed by unnoticed as the two concentrated on nothing else but each other. Minutes passed, uninterrupted by anything except an occasional moan, whimper, or groan. So engrossed was the couple, that when the door leading to the roof opened up, neither took notice.
It was only when the annoyingly unwelcome voice of a Weasley rang in their ears that the two came back into reality.
"I found you!" It was Ron, prancing onto the rooftop, the stupid grin on his face falling flat as he gasped, catching sight of the other two figures on the roof.
For a fleeting instant, Draco's stomach dropped and he swallowed hard, as his mind swam, trying to figure out what was going to come next, not bothering to move himself away from Harry.
However, Harry had the entire situation under control, as he shoved Draco forcefully away, catching him off guard, and sending him hurtling toward the ground for the second time in the evening.
"Geroff me, stupid git!" Harry shouted, taking steps back from Draco and toward Ron, who had a disgusted look on his face. "Only in your dreams, Malfoy," Harry sneered, glaring down at the Slytherin.
Draco found himself, for the first time ever, at a loss for words. He stared up blankly at Harry, not moving, not breathing, and not speaking as he ignored the snickers that were coming from Ron. He remained silent as Harry turned on his heel, walking back toward the door.
"He was actually touching you!" Ron cried, still not over the fact, as he followed Harry to the door. "How disgusting!"
Giving no response, Harry opened the door and ushered Ron, who was still muttering about queers and poufs, through it. Before following after, Harry turned and looked to Draco, who was trying in vain to collect himself and get up off the ground.
Expressionless, Draco stared back as Harry shrugged and followed Ron out, shutting the door behind him. Draco had come out here to be alone, but after the kiss, being alone was the last thing that he wanted.
*
Harry's laugh interrupted Draco's brooding thoughts. His nails were digging into the wood of the desk he was sitting at, and his chest was heaving. Although he couldn't see himself, he knew his cheeks were bright red. Angry didn't quite describe it.
To deny it was one thing...to pretend he didn't care was another. Harry was an idiot. A right prick. And he would pay for it. One way or another, he would pay."
