Flash Fiction Friday (Take 17 - Part 1)

[dracoqueen22]

a/n: As promised, here are the first of the flash fiction. These were quite fun to write!

For sarshi_k
Prompt: Hermione and Gin, Whomping willow

Fandoms: Harry Potter and Bleach. No warnings. No Brit English was used in the writing of this fic. 

What does he think he's doing? Hermione wonders as she watches the tall, silver-haired man walk across Hogwart's grounds. “And who is he?”

The last she says aloud, but of course, no one pays her any attention. Whatever Harry and Ron are doing, it's certainly not related to their assignment for Professor McGonagall.

Curiosity – and perhaps a touch of worried protectiveness toward her friends, Harry in particular since he is a magnet for trouble and life-altering events – makes Hermione straighten her shoulders with determination and hurry along after the stranger. Her wand is in her hand as a wise precaution, and she follows the silver-haired man who is heading straight toward the Whomping Willow of all things. Does he not know it's dangerous?

Hermione gasps. Perhaps he's a new student and has no idea what he's doing. She hurries, though a part of her maintains some suspicion. Voldemort's followers have snuck in under the guise of professors before, and everyone knows he has his spies among the students.

“I wouldn't do that if I were you,” Hermione calls out. “That tree isn't friendly.”

“I didn't know trees thought fer themselves” the stranger says with good humor and a weird accent. Like he doesn't naturally speak English. But he does pause to turn and look at her, and Hermione has a moment of surprise, because his eyes are a very bright amber, practically red actually, and in her experience, red eyes aren't a good thing.

“You're here at Hogwarts,” Hermione points out intelligibly.

The stranger looks all around, at the huge castle behind them, toward the Forbidden Forest, over his shoulder at the Whomping Willow and then down to the grass at his feet. He even lifts up his arms and looks under them.

“So I am,” he says, and sounds surprised about it, though this can't be news to him.

Hermione tries not to huff. “Exactly,” she says, and tilts her chin upward. “Magic shouldn't be so surprising to you then.”

“I'm used ta a different kind,” the stranger replies with a wide, unnerving smirk.

A different kind of magic? “What kind?” she asks eagerly, all suspicion forgotten.

“Hermione!”

She looks away for only a second, noticing that Harry and Ron are huffing and puffing their way toward her, looking worried. “I'm fine,” she says crossly, and turns back toward the stranger, but he's gone. Like he was never there at all. “Drat.”

 

For azardarkstar 
Prompt: Zuko, meet the Host Club. Host Club, Zuko.

Fandoms: Avatar: The Last Airbender and Ouran High School Host Club. No warnings.

He doesn't know how he got here, but frankly, Zuko's never been so terrified in his entire life. Not even when facing down his father before defecting or standing against Azula.

“What do you think? A little foundation?”

“No, no. We should enhance the scar. Women find scars sexy.”

Twin faces peer down at Zuko, arguing amongst themselves as they take liberty with his person, gripping his chin turning his face this way and that. Fingers flicking over Zuko's hair. Lips frowning at his state of dress. The two faces circling around him like hungry sharks, their expressions a mix of challenged glee.

“Just a trim for the hair. Don't you think, Kaoru?”

One of the twins nods approvingly. “Yes. Just a trim. He can be our rugged type. Like Mori-senpai, but not as wild.” He snaps his fingers. “Perfect!”

Zuko sinks down in the overly fluffy and decorated chair beneath him, hoping that if he slumps low enough he'll escape their notice. He turns his pleading gaze to the rest of the teenagers gathered around him – all dressed the same, even that girl over there who is dressed like the dudes – hoping to be rescued.

The bespectacled one adjusts his glasses. “If you can improve upon his appearance, I anticipate a twenty percent increase in our profits in the first quarter alone.”

“And you know Kyouya-senpai,” the girl dressed as a guy remarks in a dry tone. “Anything for the bottom line.”

The blond, tall one with vivid blue eyes – almost purple really – does a spinning pirouette of all things, clasping his hands together happily. “Another host! This is wonderful!”

“I like cake!” the short one, who looks more like a kid than anything else, announces.

The tall, silent one next to the kid grunts some kind of wordless agreement.

Clearly, there is no hope to be found for poor Zuko. Instead, he has to meet his doom head first, as this matching set of crazies poke and prod at him, critiquing his clothes and his haircut and whether or not he's suitably rugged.

It's a fate worse than death, and Zuko bemoans whatever crazy Avatar event – because this as to be Aang's fault in some way – sent him here. He sincerely hopes that Aang will be able to retrieve him soon, because Zuko doesn't like the look in the twins' eyes as they approach him with scissors and barely hidden devilish glee.

 

For ttenandayo
Prompt: Kisuke and Azriel, “Do I know you from somewhere?”

Fandom/Universe: Bleach and Infinity's End. No warnings.

“Well, that wasn't supposed to happen.”

Azriel's eyes snap open with the sudden realization that he is not alone. He's in his room in Paragon, and while he is used to sharing his quarters with Kieran, there's a certain weight to the aether in the room that indicates the presence is not Kieran. He would know his lover anywhere, and the voice echoing around him, while similar, is not his lover.

He spends all of ten seconds debating -- announce himself or lay quietly? – before Azriel sits up and sends a surge of aether into the room, lighting the two lanterns nearest to him with a snap of his fingers. “Who's there?”

On the other side of the room, a blond man stares at Azriel as though he were a deer caught by a hunter, pale eyes of an indeterminable shade wide and startled. “Oh, don't mind me,” the stranger says with an uneasy chuckle and a sliding step back toward the door. “I just accidentally appeared here so I'm just going to purposefully let myself out.”

Azriel's eyes narrow and he springs to his feet, not reaching for a weapon, but allowing his aether to rise around him, cloaking his half-dressed form. “How did you get here?” he demands, and curiosity wars with confusion. “And who are you?”

This stranger doesn't look like Kieran, but he does sound an awful lot like him. His mannerisms, too, are similar. That nervous chuckle, for instance. Classic Kieran when he knows he's done something he's not supposed to.

“You wouldn't understand the how,” the blond stranger replies with another subtle shuffle toward the door. “To be fair, I'm not sure that I understand it, but, such is the way of things. Oh, and my name's Kisuke. Not that it matters.”

He then pauses, cocks his head to the side. “Hmm. Do I know you?”

Azriel blinks. “I am quite certain we have never met before.” He'd definitely remember a blond man by the name of Kisuke, especially with his strange accent and even stranger behavior. “Though you do remind me of someone.”

“Yes. So do you.” A shadow flickers over Kisuke's face, as though whomever Azriel reminds him of, is not a happy memory. “He – oops. It appears it's time to go.”

Something buzzes in the room, a lot like aether actually, but not quite it. And Kisuke starts to ripple, as though he were born from illusion.

“Wait!” Azriel says, curiosity compelling him as he lurches forward. “Who...?” But Kisuke is gone, in a flash of power and light, leaving Azriel to blink in the darkness of his now empty quarters. Well... that was strange, to say the least.

 

a/n: Seven more to come! Hopefully, this were amusing. *grins*