![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
torino10154 posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
firewhiskeyficTitle: Not Fish But
Author:paulamcg
I am of legal drinking age in my region: yes, no doubt about that
Pairing(s)/Characters/Fandom: Characters (and Pairing): Fang and... Fandom: Harry Potter
Challenge/Prompts used: All of them
Summary: In February 1993, Fang decides to venture into the woods, if only to escape and encounter fishy smells.
Rating/Warnings: G, or M although it's only dogs, or is it?
Word count: around 1K
Author's Notes (if any): I hope something in this makes half-sense.
Fang can'r help wagging his tail. It's such a rare joy to hear another dog's bark.
He's wanted to stay behind to catch some moew breaths of the frigid, blessedly fresh air, and let Hagrid enter the cabin first with with the enormous load of firewood they hauled fromt the edge of the forest. Now the ice and snow on the stone steps make him slip as, perking his ,ears he turns abrutbly so as to catch a lovely canine scent, too.
No, he can't discern such a ftagrance. That's just as well. The visitor – a bitch, hopefully – is evidently not nearenough to have witnessed the embarrrasing awwkardness in this dingified boarhound's descent back to the yard.
The canine voice rings out again. “Cold!” Is that whatit says?
Such a deep voice! It cant belong to any little yapper. Is the tone plaintive? This second bark, too, remains a signle sound, as if blurted out then stifffeld. The dog wants to reach out but hesitates?
And Fang hesitates.
Hagrid's now slammed the door shut, prehaps not even noticed that Fang didn follow. The emotional half-human is in a hurry, of course, to cuddle with his bloved Beaky on the heartrug. Ever since reading – aloud, too, in a fatlering, teary voice – some pompous phrases about the need to dispose of the dagnerous Hippogriff, Hagrid's barely let the poor creatuer out and spends less time outsidehimself, too. And it smells in the cabin.
Fang doesn't excatly miss the frequent traipsing with his half-human in the Forbidden Forest. As a puppy he was notonly cuddled but also coddled so much that he still finds it unreving to get deep into the murky woods inhbited by all kinds of shady folk and fayna and flira, although Hagrid says they are all harmlesand that his a big dog now and can meet them without fear.
However, today the white-clad trees sparkel under a promsing celestial torch that's higher still than yesterday's. A noon sun, a couple of moons after the shortest days? Or the silver disc thats moreor less completely round than last nights – with another sliver devoured or vomitted back by a canis major whose starving and sick... sick of hunting... hunting the hunter whom it must follow across the skies, or how did the centaurs storytelling put it?
Fang and whoever is trying to make these thouths into a story that makes sense can't quite decide when they can expect a stray to roam hogwarts grounds and not to do it as stealthtily as possible. To dare bark. Daytime or nighttime?
In any case they have now shed some ligth on the setting, and feel more confdent or atleast not hopesly scaerd.
Fang takes an eager leep twards towards the woods. Maybe he wildare... if the bitch doesn soon come...
“Come!” he barks, and because he doesn't want to alert jagrid, he ventures further away from the cabin before barking his invitation again for good mesure. “Come! Come on, come!”
Theres another enticing lowpitced call. A true handsome ladys shy inivitaton?
Fanf now rushes towards her. The bremvhrd stripped bare of leaves but charmed by frost into dence lace onstrucjt his view.
Finally a gust of wind shakes down the softer layer osnow on the thicket in front of him, and brings a strange odour into his snout, just as he can also see the stranger. He can smell... notfish, but...
It looks like a major dog, insees. An impressive black figure agaomst the whiteness of this forest setting. Pityable thin but tall. Not taller than Fang?
At least not as handsome. Shaggy, and smelly!
Not shy after all, the stray crosses the distance brrrween the two of them in a couple of bounds. Head lowered over outs reched front paws looks up with uncanny silvery eyes.
And proceeds to licking Fang on the snout! Outragepus!
The stranger tastes of... rawrat and goats milk.
Fang does his best to revert to civilisd intorduction and stepsup to snif fat the strays rear end.
No! Not a bitch at all!
But this mutt doesn seem to realise that Fang is not one either. His all redy trying to mount Fang without caring to check first if theres swelling in the fanny or a fanny at all1! (And fanny is how British dogs call vulva, not buttocks, mind!) Grim, Fluffy and Cerberus!
Fangs about toflee but he feelso ofrended and unexpectedly enchanted at thesmaetime that he only backs off abit.
The mutt still dares meet Fangs eyes, barely apokigises. "Woof," he says. "Wolf!"
Is he an alien? Surely not a wolf? He smells a bit... of a cat. There glint some long, dull gold hairs on he's dark fur.
"What are you? Who are you?" Fang's nerves make him ekaculate a torrent of barks. "You are not a wolf. Lookinfor a wolf? No wolvs here. Not even werwolve. And for werevolves you are onight too late!"
Oh yes, the moon's risen, and this grim stray in he's hunger has livked off a lauer on itside, and now he's lonely. There's too much that's fishy about him... No way Fang could invite him home.
"Go! Go!" Fang barks without waiting for any response, and trotts off.
When aproching the cabin, he realises what the fishy smell reminded him of. The rat whodr stayed in the cupboard as an uninvited guest definitely for more than three days.
That wretched creature, too, to whom Fang has failed to make Hagrid pay any attention, smells... Not of cat, not of fish. Oddly human, although he look nowhere close to half human.
Author:
paulamcgI am of legal drinking age in my region: yes, no doubt about that
Pairing(s)/Characters/Fandom: Characters (and Pairing): Fang and... Fandom: Harry Potter
Challenge/Prompts used: All of them
Summary: In February 1993, Fang decides to venture into the woods, if only to escape and encounter fishy smells.
Rating/Warnings: G, or M although it's only dogs, or is it?
Word count: around 1K
Author's Notes (if any): I hope something in this makes half-sense.
Fang can'r help wagging his tail. It's such a rare joy to hear another dog's bark.
He's wanted to stay behind to catch some moew breaths of the frigid, blessedly fresh air, and let Hagrid enter the cabin first with with the enormous load of firewood they hauled fromt the edge of the forest. Now the ice and snow on the stone steps make him slip as, perking his ,ears he turns abrutbly so as to catch a lovely canine scent, too.
No, he can't discern such a ftagrance. That's just as well. The visitor – a bitch, hopefully – is evidently not nearenough to have witnessed the embarrrasing awwkardness in this dingified boarhound's descent back to the yard.
The canine voice rings out again. “Cold!” Is that whatit says?
Such a deep voice! It cant belong to any little yapper. Is the tone plaintive? This second bark, too, remains a signle sound, as if blurted out then stifffeld. The dog wants to reach out but hesitates?
And Fang hesitates.
Hagrid's now slammed the door shut, prehaps not even noticed that Fang didn follow. The emotional half-human is in a hurry, of course, to cuddle with his bloved Beaky on the heartrug. Ever since reading – aloud, too, in a fatlering, teary voice – some pompous phrases about the need to dispose of the dagnerous Hippogriff, Hagrid's barely let the poor creatuer out and spends less time outsidehimself, too. And it smells in the cabin.
Fang doesn't excatly miss the frequent traipsing with his half-human in the Forbidden Forest. As a puppy he was notonly cuddled but also coddled so much that he still finds it unreving to get deep into the murky woods inhbited by all kinds of shady folk and fayna and flira, although Hagrid says they are all harmlesand that his a big dog now and can meet them without fear.
However, today the white-clad trees sparkel under a promsing celestial torch that's higher still than yesterday's. A noon sun, a couple of moons after the shortest days? Or the silver disc thats moreor less completely round than last nights – with another sliver devoured or vomitted back by a canis major whose starving and sick... sick of hunting... hunting the hunter whom it must follow across the skies, or how did the centaurs storytelling put it?
Fang and whoever is trying to make these thouths into a story that makes sense can't quite decide when they can expect a stray to roam hogwarts grounds and not to do it as stealthtily as possible. To dare bark. Daytime or nighttime?
In any case they have now shed some ligth on the setting, and feel more confdent or atleast not hopesly scaerd.
Fang takes an eager leep twards towards the woods. Maybe he wildare... if the bitch doesn soon come...
“Come!” he barks, and because he doesn't want to alert jagrid, he ventures further away from the cabin before barking his invitation again for good mesure. “Come! Come on, come!”
Theres another enticing lowpitced call. A true handsome ladys shy inivitaton?
Fanf now rushes towards her. The bremvhrd stripped bare of leaves but charmed by frost into dence lace onstrucjt his view.
Finally a gust of wind shakes down the softer layer osnow on the thicket in front of him, and brings a strange odour into his snout, just as he can also see the stranger. He can smell... notfish, but...
It looks like a major dog, insees. An impressive black figure agaomst the whiteness of this forest setting. Pityable thin but tall. Not taller than Fang?
At least not as handsome. Shaggy, and smelly!
Not shy after all, the stray crosses the distance brrrween the two of them in a couple of bounds. Head lowered over outs reched front paws looks up with uncanny silvery eyes.
And proceeds to licking Fang on the snout! Outragepus!
The stranger tastes of... rawrat and goats milk.
Fang does his best to revert to civilisd intorduction and stepsup to snif fat the strays rear end.
No! Not a bitch at all!
But this mutt doesn seem to realise that Fang is not one either. His all redy trying to mount Fang without caring to check first if theres swelling in the fanny or a fanny at all1! (And fanny is how British dogs call vulva, not buttocks, mind!) Grim, Fluffy and Cerberus!
Fangs about toflee but he feelso ofrended and unexpectedly enchanted at thesmaetime that he only backs off abit.
The mutt still dares meet Fangs eyes, barely apokigises. "Woof," he says. "Wolf!"
Is he an alien? Surely not a wolf? He smells a bit... of a cat. There glint some long, dull gold hairs on he's dark fur.
"What are you? Who are you?" Fang's nerves make him ekaculate a torrent of barks. "You are not a wolf. Lookinfor a wolf? No wolvs here. Not even werwolve. And for werevolves you are onight too late!"
Oh yes, the moon's risen, and this grim stray in he's hunger has livked off a lauer on itside, and now he's lonely. There's too much that's fishy about him... No way Fang could invite him home.
"Go! Go!" Fang barks without waiting for any response, and trotts off.
When aproching the cabin, he realises what the fishy smell reminded him of. The rat whodr stayed in the cupboard as an uninvited guest definitely for more than three days.
That wretched creature, too, to whom Fang has failed to make Hagrid pay any attention, smells... Not of cat, not of fish. Oddly human, although he look nowhere close to half human.