Series: Slayage, Wizard Style
Written for mhalachai.
Title: Sibling Rivalry
“You are such
“Well, excuse me
, Miss I-Am-A-Sore-Loser.”
“I am not
a sore loser! I can’t believe you just said that!”
“Loser. Sore Loser. Loser with a capitol L. The word “loser” was invented for you. Look up the word loser in the dictionary and you’ll find a picture of you!”
“Ooh, great comebacks. What did you do? Read through “comebacks for Dummies?”
“I’ll let you know, I’m fantastic
at the snappy one-liners.”
“I don’t see any evidence of that
“Why should I waste my brilliance on your patheticness.”
“And they just get lamer and lamer.”
“How long do they usually go on for?” Harry whispered to a smirking Xander. The other man grinned at him, leaning back in his chair.
“I think the record’s been about an hour.”
“Merlin,” Harry groaned. “I mean, as interesting as arguments are, to fight over a sword
? And I thought sibling rivalry was stupid before.”
“Stick around and you’ll find out a sword is a good thing to fight over.”
Harry started knocking his head against the weapons cabinet.
Title: Colour Me Impressed
“Hey, that rhymed,” Dawn grinned, as the dust settled around the startled looking teen. Harry glared up from his prone position on the ground and let his cousin pull him up to his feet.
“Give a bloke a little warning before you make with the dusting, alright?”
“Damn,” Xander looked impressed. “Dawnster, you and Buff corrupted my man Harry into Scoobism. In three days. Colour me impressed.”
The irate 17 year-old wizard pointed his wand at Xander and muttered a few words. When the spell was done, Dawn couldn’t help but crack up. On Xander’s forehead, in bright letters, Harry had spelled “Impressed”.
Title: Dancing Queen
Harry Potter was not in a good mood. In fact, you could say he was in a bad
mood. The reason
to the bad mood? He was in a club. A muggle club. With music. And dancing. He didn’t do dancing. In fact, he blatantly didn’t
dance. At all. He glowered, arms crossed as his cousins tried every trick in the blackmail book to get him to get off his arse and actually dance with someone. They were failing.
“Harry, come on. It’s just a little dance. You know, shaking your thang on the dancefloor?” Dawn looked hopeful. Harry just glared at her.
“I don’t “shake my thang” as you so eloquently put it. If I didn’t dance in the balls in my own school, I ruddy well won’t
dance in a club.”
“He’s going all Giles on us, Dawnie. Again. Especially after we told him not to,” Buffy said, a wicked gleam in her eyes. A look mirroring it was on Dawn’s face, and suddenly, despite the fact that he’d been winning before, Harry had a sinking feeling that this time he would be out manoeuvred.
“I, uh, didn’t mean to, really. I mean, Giles? What Giles speak? I’m all Valley Guy, here. Is there such a thing as a Valley Guy? Cause if there was, I’m so it. Completely.”
“His American accent needs working,” Dawn told her sister in a stage whisper, a conspiratorial look on her face.
“Totally. In a word, it sucks.”
“It sucketh muchly,” Dawn nodded.
“See, and we gave you tips and everything. We’re completely hurt, now.”
“Yup,” Dawn said, turning lethal puppy dog eyes-pout combination on him. He was a lost man. But he still managed to grumble about it.
“Fine. I’ll dance, happy?” he snapped. “Honestly, I’m sorry, but you’ll see why I don’t dance, alright? I suck. I’m bad. I’m beyond horrible at it. Horrible is a nice word. What I call dancing is so beyond horrible, it’s not even on the same planet as horrible.”
“The ramble’s getting pretty decent, though,” Dawn noted. Buffy nodded.
“Bit of a drama queen still.”
“He’s not a drama queen,” Dawn tsked her sister. “He’s a Dancing Queen.”
With a laugh, both sisters dragged Harry to the dancefloor.