Lettie (osteological) wrote,
@ 2007-08-17 23:52:00

25 Flavors drabbles
First Crush
Grayson absolutely hated the gatherings that his mother insisted that he went to. She dressed him up in ridiculous robes made him stand still for hours on end - what on earth was that about? This occasion was particularly torturous, however. He hated weddings, they were the most pointless thing in the entire world.

Especially pureblood weddings. It wasn't as if the couple ever looked happy to be getting married - Merlin, at this one the bride had started to cry and it was obvious they weren't tears of joy because the girl's father had been glaring daggers at her the whole time - and you had to sit quietly even through the toasts for the new couple. It was a load of fucking bollocks (and although he was only a child of eleven, Grayson could at least think to himself those exact words). But the worst - the very worst thing - was the atrocious little cap that his mother had forced him to wear.

He huffed and glanced longingly at the cake that had yet to be cut, idly wandering across the floor only to smack head-on into some woman's chest. He stumbled back, startled, and promptly looked up directly into the woman's chest. Erm, oops.

"Я огорченн," he muttered a bit bitterly. Well, she'd gotten in his way as well, hadn't she?

Anything else he'd been about to say was cut off by the hard smack to the side of his head and the subsequent push that had him falling on his arse.

"Get away from me, you uncoordinated little brat," the woman hissed at him, stalking away after a deadly glare in his direction. He sat there, dumbstruck, for what was probably several minutes before he pushed himself to his feet. The rest of his night was spent sneaking glances at the woman who he'd run into.

Her name, as he would find out later, was Bellatrix Black.

And she was perfect.

Baby (take one)
Pink.

That was the colour that all of his dress shirts (his expensive dress shirts) were. He had been fuming not-so-silently; the nearest house-elf had found itself thrown against the wall before Grayson stomped after it, demanding an explaination.

"Dwonky is not knowing why Master Grayson's shirts is pink, Dwonky swears!" He'd been about to wring the thing's neck when a tiny blonde head popped in from around the corner and he was forced to quickly (and discreetly) drop his hand from where it had been holding Dwonky against the wall.

Anastasiya toddled over to the pile of her father's shirts and began rummaging, nearly disappearing into them for several minutes before emerging, triumphantly, with her favorite red dress. Without much further ado, she shrugged out of her robes and into the garment, grinning sunnily up at her father a moment later.

Grayson took a deep breath in through his nose. "Anastasiya?" He looked to her questioningly.

The little girl's lip quivered. "Papa, I had to get the soup stain off of my new dress or Mommy would be mad!"

She'd put her dress in the wash. With his best dress shirts. That would cost at least four-hundred galleons to replace. He clenched his hand at his side for a long while and then looked down to her, sighing.

"...your bow's crooked, zaichik." He went down on one knee to fix it properly.

Paternal Love
Some part of Grayson was slightly guilty over the fact that he had forced Anastasiya to come to a party like the ones that his mother had forced him to go to instead of going to the park like she'd wanted to. He supposed that was probably the part of him that had kept him from punting her across the yard like a ~~house elf~~ football during the first few years of her life when he had sworn all that she could do was cry and defecate.

Fortunately for Grayson, the larger part of him reminded the piddly 'nurturing' part that duty was first and foremost and it was essential that Anastasiya understood that from a young age. Still, he had been beginning to regret bringing her to the party. She stood in the corner and sulked instead of playing with the other children, arms crossed and jaw set. When her mother called her over for a picture, she stayed in the same spot. He sighed, walking over to her and taking her by the arm.

"What is the matter with you, Anastasiya?" He got only a scowl in return before she muttered, "I hate this place! All of the other kids are stupid. And I don't want to be in a dumb picture."

Ah, she sounded like him. He stooped down again and took her by the other arm, looking to her straight on.

"You are part of a family, Anastasiya, and that means that you smile for the camera no matter how you're feeling."

She shot him another glare. "But why?"

Grayson felt as if he were fighting a losing battle, but continued on, "Because it's how we fit in, that's why. And your mother will be pleased." Anastasiya studied him for a little while before she sighed and nodded, trudging over to where her mother was standing expectantly.

Baby (take two)
"How do I make it stop?"

"Him, Grayson. And he has a name."

Grayson Wilkes scowled to himself and leaned over the cradle again. The baby started crying just as it had before and he let out a frustrated noise, clenching his hand on the edge of the crib to the point where he could feel it buckling beneath his fingers just a little. It was very frustrating to have something that was supposed to be your child (weren't your children supposed to listen to you?) disobeying so blatantly.

After a moment of consideration (and after Cam had left the room), he removed his gloves and set them to the side, picking the child up with his bare hands and holding him so they were nose to nose. Nevermind that the boy had just had a bath and was completely starkers, much to Grayosn's chagrin. He continued to wail and Grayson set his jaw in a tight line, almost barking out, "Stop crying!"

He was quite pleased when the little whining thing stopped ... right up until he felt something warm trickling onto the front of his shirt and realized, after a horrifying moment, that the child was urinating on him.

Lost as to what to do with the boy, he held him back as far as possible and then set him into the cradle, apparating home with a crack to change his shirt. Cam had dealt with baby pee before so she could deal with it again, right?

Right.

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