Drabble: Ruffled Feathers (Ernie/???)
Aug. 31st, 2015 10:04 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lightofdayeNo new writing but I do have this to repost...
Title: Ruffled Feathers
Rating:PG-13
Characters & Pairings: Ernie/Mystery Next-Gen Girl
Word Count:PC-13
Content: Banter. UST. Older man/younger woman.
Disclaimer: The characters, settings and HP Franchise as a whole are owned by JKR and not by me. I make no profit from writing this piece of fanfiction.
Summary:Ernie is accosted at a Party.
A/n: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
hp_humpdrabbles for their prompts: 'Happy Birthday', 'Masquerade Ball' and 'Sleeping With The Enemy'. The tone and use of Ernie were suggeted by the peerless ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
tamlane
---
“Why if it isn’t Ernie Millian?” The woman said in an amused voice.
“Ernest. Ernest MacMillan,” Ernie corrected. Friends called him Ernie, not complete strangers.
“My Mistake, Ernie,” She drawled, sounding even more amused. “But where’s your mask? Did you forget this was a Masquerade Ball?”
“I didn’t forget anything. I’m not an attendee. I’m an organiser. Organisers don’t wear masks.” He looked away from her, peering through the crowds of disguised witches and wizards. Justin’s birthday party was going to go swimmingly; no matter how they tried to distract him.
“Especially not if they want to be thanked for their hard work.” The woman observed.
“It’s not about getting the credit,” Ernie huffed. “It’s about doing the job well.”
“ Of course it is,” she said soothingly. “Just a shame, that’s all.”
“How so?”
“Well if you weren’t working, I’m sure I could help you relax.”
Ernie blinked. “No, I don’t think so.”
“I’m sure I could. I’d enjoy it. You’re so pent up. That’s always fun when you let go.”
She touched his arm. A shiver passed right up Ernie’s arm and down again, deep into the pit of his stomach. It was quite unnatural. Suddenly the woman captured his attention entirely.
She was a girl really; tiny and slender. Her mask was a swirling intricacy of gleaming silver and black lacquer, concealing her face entirely aside from a delicate chin and ridiculously red lips. The mane of glossy scarlet hair narrowed down who was behind the mask: or should have if Ernie had the slightest interest in gossip magazines about celebrity’s children.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Ernie said, the hand she wasn’t grasping rose to his collar to tug at it. It was getting rather warm in the ballroom. It must be the crowds.
“I think you do.”
It was hard to bat eyelids through a thick mask, but she gave it a good go. The eyes were no help at all in identifying her. They were emerald green, yes, but they also had diamond shaped pupils and were clearly under the kind of glamour charm that the youth of today thought was nifty.
“I don’t know what kind of person you think you’re talking to, young lady,” Ernie said most severely, “but I have a job to do. I suggest you practise your wiles elsewhere.”
“It’s the mask isn’t it? You don’t want to think you might be sleeping with the enemy.”
She sounded quite put out. Perhaps he’d been too harsh.
“Now, I’m sure you’re not an enemy, dear.” Ernie said consolingly.
“And I wasn’t suggesting sleeping either but suite yourself.” She said, and turned on her far too tall heels and walked off. Ernie took no notice of the sway in her step.
One, two, three full second passed. Before Ernie turned and followed her. He had to of course, there was no telling the trouble a nice young lady like that could get into in a place like this.
Title: Ruffled Feathers
Rating:PG-13
Characters & Pairings: Ernie/Mystery Next-Gen Girl
Word Count:PC-13
Content: Banter. UST. Older man/younger woman.
Disclaimer: The characters, settings and HP Franchise as a whole are owned by JKR and not by me. I make no profit from writing this piece of fanfiction.
Summary:Ernie is accosted at a Party.
A/n: Written for
hp_humpdrabbles for their prompts: 'Happy Birthday', 'Masquerade Ball' and 'Sleeping With The Enemy'. The tone and use of Ernie were suggeted by the peerless tamlane---
“Why if it isn’t Ernie Millian?” The woman said in an amused voice.
“Ernest. Ernest MacMillan,” Ernie corrected. Friends called him Ernie, not complete strangers.
“My Mistake, Ernie,” She drawled, sounding even more amused. “But where’s your mask? Did you forget this was a Masquerade Ball?”
“I didn’t forget anything. I’m not an attendee. I’m an organiser. Organisers don’t wear masks.” He looked away from her, peering through the crowds of disguised witches and wizards. Justin’s birthday party was going to go swimmingly; no matter how they tried to distract him.
“Especially not if they want to be thanked for their hard work.” The woman observed.
“It’s not about getting the credit,” Ernie huffed. “It’s about doing the job well.”
“ Of course it is,” she said soothingly. “Just a shame, that’s all.”
“How so?”
“Well if you weren’t working, I’m sure I could help you relax.”
Ernie blinked. “No, I don’t think so.”
“I’m sure I could. I’d enjoy it. You’re so pent up. That’s always fun when you let go.”
She touched his arm. A shiver passed right up Ernie’s arm and down again, deep into the pit of his stomach. It was quite unnatural. Suddenly the woman captured his attention entirely.
She was a girl really; tiny and slender. Her mask was a swirling intricacy of gleaming silver and black lacquer, concealing her face entirely aside from a delicate chin and ridiculously red lips. The mane of glossy scarlet hair narrowed down who was behind the mask: or should have if Ernie had the slightest interest in gossip magazines about celebrity’s children.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Ernie said, the hand she wasn’t grasping rose to his collar to tug at it. It was getting rather warm in the ballroom. It must be the crowds.
“I think you do.”
It was hard to bat eyelids through a thick mask, but she gave it a good go. The eyes were no help at all in identifying her. They were emerald green, yes, but they also had diamond shaped pupils and were clearly under the kind of glamour charm that the youth of today thought was nifty.
“I don’t know what kind of person you think you’re talking to, young lady,” Ernie said most severely, “but I have a job to do. I suggest you practise your wiles elsewhere.”
“It’s the mask isn’t it? You don’t want to think you might be sleeping with the enemy.”
She sounded quite put out. Perhaps he’d been too harsh.
“Now, I’m sure you’re not an enemy, dear.” Ernie said consolingly.
“And I wasn’t suggesting sleeping either but suite yourself.” She said, and turned on her far too tall heels and walked off. Ernie took no notice of the sway in her step.
One, two, three full second passed. Before Ernie turned and followed her. He had to of course, there was no telling the trouble a nice young lady like that could get into in a place like this.
