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Mar. 1st, 2008 11:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
beachlassDrabble for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
thursday_kat.
Prompt: Contentment
Same storyworld as the last one: a few pieces of canon compliance twisted upside down and backwards.
Rowlings' characters and fantasy world are not mine, I'll put them back undamaged in just a moment.
The morning light is bright and clear, and Draco watches the rippling light on the wall as the curtains billow and fall. He shifts his hand under the rumpled white linen to trace the curve of Luna's belly. Curved like a hurtling banked turn in mid-air his fingers lightly trace the swell. A cauldron belly, the midwife calls it, Draco remembers, and lets his eyes close to press his face into Luna's soft hair.
Later the sun will be on the other side of the house, and Draco will kneel on the bed and rub rosemary scented olive oil into Luna's stretch marks.
Later there will be an owl from Asteria, who is reading her way through a secluded confinement in Provence and passing on letters from Draco's friends who think he is with her. Who think that he knocked up Daphne's sister, and had to marry her.
Later there will be grilled fish for dinner, and Draco will rub circles on Luna's lower back.
Later Draco will feel the baby move under his shaking hands while Luna kisses him, honey sweet from the baklava.
But for now there is just the whisper of the curtain against the tile floor, Luna's sleepy murmur, and this unfamilar feeling the Draco thinks is contentment.
thursday_kat.Prompt: Contentment
Same storyworld as the last one: a few pieces of canon compliance twisted upside down and backwards.
Rowlings' characters and fantasy world are not mine, I'll put them back undamaged in just a moment.
The morning light is bright and clear, and Draco watches the rippling light on the wall as the curtains billow and fall. He shifts his hand under the rumpled white linen to trace the curve of Luna's belly. Curved like a hurtling banked turn in mid-air his fingers lightly trace the swell. A cauldron belly, the midwife calls it, Draco remembers, and lets his eyes close to press his face into Luna's soft hair.
Later the sun will be on the other side of the house, and Draco will kneel on the bed and rub rosemary scented olive oil into Luna's stretch marks.
Later there will be an owl from Asteria, who is reading her way through a secluded confinement in Provence and passing on letters from Draco's friends who think he is with her. Who think that he knocked up Daphne's sister, and had to marry her.
Later there will be grilled fish for dinner, and Draco will rub circles on Luna's lower back.
Later Draco will feel the baby move under his shaking hands while Luna kisses him, honey sweet from the baklava.
But for now there is just the whisper of the curtain against the tile floor, Luna's sleepy murmur, and this unfamilar feeling the Draco thinks is contentment.
