Create Journals
Update Journals

Find Users

Create New

Latest News
How to Use



Nokomis (nokomis) wrote,
@ 2003-06-25 17:54:00
Previous Entry  Add to memories!  Add to Topic Directory  Tell a Friend!  Next Entry

    A ficlet!
    I have finally written something post-OotP. (Yes, it has been all of five days.) It's silly, and short, and all in all fun to get out ot my mind.


    Lucius goes to Azkaban.

    Lucius handed his bundle of belongings over to the skinny man sitting behind the counter reluctantly.

    “Careful with that... That outfit cost more than you’ve made in your lifetime,” he said.

    “Whatever,” replied the skinny man, shoving the belongings into a drawer labeled ‘Malfoy, Lucius.’

    “I’m serious! It’ll be your head!” exclaimed Lucius, who had been a mite oversensitive since his arrest three days before.

    “They’re in good hands,” replied the skinny man. “Go on with the nice dementors, now.”

    Lucius reluctantly obeyed the order, muttering about insolence in the workplace and the lack of proper help available. He then turned his aggression onto the deplorable condition of the robes that had been issued to him. First of all, they were grey. Dull, ugly, grey that made him look positively washed out.

    Malfoys weren’t made to wear faded grey prison robes. They were made to wear lots of black and expensive materials and maybe, every once in a while, a nice pair of Dockers and a polo shirt. Not grey prison robes.

    And they were scratchy! He was positive that whatever house-elf had washed them had purposely left out the fabric softener, because these were the most scratchy, uncomfortable robes he had ever worn. Ever. And that included the silly polyester Death Eater robes that the Dark Lord insisted upon ordering in bulk from a Halloween Costumes manufacturer.

    Lucius followed the dementors to the end of the stony hall, and then they stopped, and swung open a door.

    He reluctantly stepped inside, and gasped as he saw his lodgings for the indeterminate future.

    “NOOOO!” he screamed. “Not a cot! Not natty old blankets! And is that a TAP I’m supposed to drink out of?!?”

    And the misery was complete, the dementors fed well, and all was good.


(Read comments)

Post a comment in response:

Username:  Password: 
No HTML allowed in subject

No Image

 Don't auto-format:
Enter the security code below.

Allowed HTML: <a> <abbr> <acronym> <address> <area> <b> <bdo> <big> <blockquote> <br> <caption> <center> <cite> <code> <col> <colgroup> <dd> <dd> <del> <dfn> <div> <dl> <dt> <dt> <em> <font> <h1> <h2> <h3> <h4> <h5> <h6> <hr> <i> <img> <ins> <kbd> <li> <li> <map> <marquee> <ol> <p> <pre> <q> <s> <samp> <small> <span> <strike> <strong> <sub> <sup> <table> <tbody> <td> <tfoot> <th> <thead> <tr> <tt> <u> <ul> <var> <xmp>
© 2002-2008. Blurty Journal. All rights reserved.