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 Posted: Sat Sep 06, 2008 2:40 pm
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Fantasmic Wishes
Inspired by the song, Fantasmic by Nightwish
Disclaimer: I do not own the world of Harry Potter or it's characters.
The rights solely belongs to the amazing
author, J.K Rowling.
I do not own the song lyrics either.
The song Fantasmic is the property of
Tarja Taurunen and her old band
Nighwish.
oOo
Wish upon a star
No matter who you are
...
Wish upon a star
Take a step enter the land
...
Join him the quest for dream
A make-believe
Is all we ever need
...
Wish upon a star
No matter who you are
...
Wish upon a star
Believe in will
The realm of the king of fantasy
The master of the tale-like lore
The way to kingdom I adore
Where the warriors heart is pure
Where the stories will come true
oOo
Emerald eyes stared up at the midnight sky. The child had once again escaped the residence of It's only living family, the Dursleys, without their notice. Or perhaps they had noticed, but just didn't care. It loved coming here. The small meadow was It's own secret hideout. One of the very few things the child possessed which belonged to It, and not Dudley or Its Uncle or Aunt. It loved to run out here, to watch the stars at night and the clouds at day. But It preferred the stars.
Sometimes It imagined the stars to be spheres of magic, instead of the distant spheres of Hydrogen and Helium It knew them to be. It would imagine the magical lights descending from the vast sky they resided in. They would tell It of distant and magical lands, filled with all sorts of mythical and mysterious creatures occupying these lands, these lands hidden from the ordinary individual. The magical orbs of light would share with It all of their secrets, all of what was hidden from It. And It would be amazed of the Real, beautiful truth of everything.
They would take It away from Its normal life, surrounded by hatred and indifference. They would lead It to these distant lands, and with it, they would show the child the wondrous beings occupying these lands. It just knew, that there'd be Unicorns and Dragons, Phoenixes and Sphinxes, and all sort of other creatures believed to be nothing more than a myth. And they all would be pure, innocent, wondrous, beautiful, amazing, stunning, soft, warm, changing, gentle, kind, and simply Perfect
Of course, no matter how many times It sat in the meadow, Its head held high, looking at the twinkling dots in the sky, despite how It wished and dreamt every time, despite how Its entire heart was in the wish, how It wished with Its entire Being, nothing changed.
No stars descended from the sky, It wasn't lead to any distant land nor told any secrets. And worst of all, there was no Unicorns or Dragons, there was no Phoenixes or Sphinxes, no Magic. Everything remained the same. Cold, boring, repetitive, distant, cruel, tainted, indifferent, horrible, malicious, hateful, hard and Normal. The small child hugged It's legs tightly to Its small chest while laying Its head on Its knees and closed Its eyes, mourning the Wish which never came true.
The children song wasn't true.
You Can't Wish Upon A Star, No Matter Who You Are. |
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Posted: Wed Sep 17, 2008 8:57 pm
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Posted: Sun Sep 21, 2008 4:11 am
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Posted: Sun Oct 26, 2008 10:13 pm
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Four Across and Seven Down
By Matelia-legwll
Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns all the Potterverse references. I get the plot. And that’s about it. No characters or anything. Oh, and the Peter Pan reference doesn’t belong to me either. It’s just for fun.
Summary: “You’d have thought he was merely bored—asked if I’d finished with my newspaper, cool as you please, said he missed doing the crossword.” Sirius attempts a couple of crossword puzzles with the other Marauders. JP/LE.
Rating: K (Pure and Simple) / G
Genre: Humor/Romance
“What’s a three letter word for a Communist country?” asked Sirius absentmindedly. He had folded the morning’s Daily Prophet open to the word games section and was ready to fill in the first blank of the crossword puzzle.
“Red,” said James softly.
“Thanks, mate,” said Sirius as he scribbled it down. “What about a five letter word for environmentally friendly?”
“Green.”
“I should have known that.” Sirius scribbled down the answer then asked, “What’s a four letter word for Easter flower?”
“Lily,” sighed James, a soft smile on his face.
“Hey, cool. That works,” said Sirius, raising his quill. He stopped and turned to his best mate, who was gazing at a very pretty red-haired green-eyed girl that went by the name of Lily Evans sitting a little ways down the table, and asked suspiciously, “Were you even listening to me?”
“What?” said James, turning back.
“Argh. Even when you’re not paying the slightest attention you still get the answers right,” complained Sirius.
“Of course,” said James arrogantly. “I’m James Potter.”
“And that is why Lily Evans won’t give you the answer you want,” inserted Remus, shaking his head slightly.
“Why?” asked Peter.
“He’s being arrogant,” answered Remus.
Sirius had turned back to his crossword puzzle. “What’s a three letter word for prat?”
“James,” cried Remus triumphantly.
Sirius looked oddly at his friend. “Sadly, Moony, that’s not even the right amount of letters.”
“Try ‘git’ then,” said James, returning to his own gazing.
“Wicked. And now all I need to do is to rearrange the answers to get a hex that will make Snivelly’s toenails grow and grow,” said Sirius with an evil grin.
“Wait, like Snivellus did to me?” asked Peter.
James hid a smile. Snivellus was not funny. Peter’s reaction, however...
“Excellent. ‘Tigy lil neer gder’,” said Sirius, intoning the words in a deep mysterious voice, not paying attention to Peter. He frowned, looking at the words again. “Or maybe ‘ti grey lil negder’,” he suggested, returning to the deep voice when he got back to the mixed up words.
“Tiger Lily gender,” said James, sighing exasperatedly. “Obviously.”
“Another clue?” said Sirius, dismayed.
“How does a flower have a gender?” asked Remus. “I read in Herbology that plants were neither male nor female, because they had both...”
James turned and gave a weird look to his friends, who were now puzzling over this new clue. “It’s a girl.”
“What?”
“Come on, Sirius. Surely you remember Mum taking us to the play ‘Peter Pan’ down in Muggle London.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
James sighed again. “Tiger Lily. She was the Indian princess. You know, that Peter Pan rescued? The chief was all mad because he thought that Pan had kidnapped her instead of Hook. She was the one Tinkerbell thought that Pan should like, instead of Wendy.”
James was receiving odd looks and not all were from his three best mates. He noted that Lily Evans was now looking at him with, was that curiosity?
“Pay attention next time Sirius,” James reproved.
Sirius’s jaw had dropped. “Excuse me? You were the one that said that our time would be better spent coming up with ways to—” Sirius cut himself off, with a half glance toward Remus, whose eyes had widened. “hex a certain someone,” Sirius finished with a significant look over at the Slytherin table.
James smiled broadly. “And haven’t I answered every one of your hex puzzle clues correctly? Including the one with Tiger Lily? Do you have the hex now?”
“No. I suppose you would have to rearrange ‘girl’ or ‘female’,” said Sirius, discouraged.
“Lirg, lamefe,” tried Peter. “Rigl, mefela, gilr, lefema...”
“Pad, could I see the paper for a moment?” asked Remus suddenly.
“Sure,” said Sirius, handing it over the table to Remus.
“Ah. You were aware that you were doing the wrong puzzle, weren’t you?” asked Remus, grinning.
“What?” exclaimed Sirius, snatching back the paper.
“The Arithmancy puzzle is the one that gives you the hex,” said Remus importantly. “The crossword puzzle is for bettering Muggle and Wizard relations.”
James roared with laughter, Peter and Remus laughed also, though perhaps not so loud, and even Sirius managed a small bark of a laugh.
“That was fun,” said Sirius thoughtfully after they had quieted down again. “Let’s do it again!”
Sirius looked up and down the Gryffindor table. “Anyone have another crossword puzzle?” he called out.
There was no response, except for a few girls rummaging in their bags. Sirius slumped down, disappointed, when someone dropped a book of crossword puzzles in front of him. Sirius and James turned around to see Lily Evans striding towards the door of the Great Hall, closing up her bag.
“Wicked,” said Sirius, looking through the book of puzzles.
“She likes me,” proclaimed James, ruffling his hair as he stared after her.
Peter caught Remus’s eye and they both grinned.
Remus mildly said, “You know, James, she gave the book to Sirius, not to you.”
“Doesn’t matter. She still likes me,” said James, a smile creeping forth over his face.
Lily had turned back for just a moment as she reached the doors and flashed a smile, before disappearing out into the corridor.
“Hey, what’s a seven letter word for a frog’s home?”
“Lilypad,” said James, grinning at the double meaning. “Lily, Pad.”
“I heard you the first time,” muttered Sirius as he filled up his quill again.
“Lily, Padfoot. Lily gave us crossword puzzles.”
“She obviously didn’t know what that would mean to you, Prongs,” said Remus. “As I don’t either.”
“There’s got to be a hidden meaning, or a clue,” said James eagerly leaning over the book. “A clue that says that she likes me.”
“Maybe she just got tired of doing it?” suggested Remus halfheartedly.
James ignored him, looking at the Gryffindor table. “Sirius what is seven down?”
“A pronoun for a female. ‘Her’? No, that has wrong letters. ‘She’? Excellent. That fits perfectly.”
“And four, er, across?” asked James looking at the foursome huddled close around the crossword book.
“Feelings of intense like. It has five letters. I love this!” exclaimed Sirius. He stopped, surprised at his own brilliance. “‘Loves’! That’s it!”
“And...” James trailed off, bewildered at whatever could be the next clue.
“Hey look at this!” interrupted Sirius. “Another word for prat. G ... I ... Hang on. That won’t work. It’s five letters, not three.”
“James,” said Remus, grinning.
“How does that work?” asked Sirius. “It’s not supposed to have actual names.”
“Oh really?” asked Remus, pointing to a clue on the next puzzle that called for the name of the Prime Minister.
“That’s different,” said Sirius with James nodding in agreement.
“Just try it,” said Remus, exasperatedly.
“It fits in with ‘loves’,” said Sirius in surprise.
“Exactly,” said Remus, leaning back triumphantly.
“What does that mean?” asked Sirius, bewildered.
“Lily, Pad. She loves James,” said Remus.
James’s jaw dropped. “What?” His exclamation was joined by Sirius and Peter.
Remus sighed. “Prongs, you said that there was a secret message. That’s the one that she included.”
James’s eyes grew wide, a few seconds later a grin split his face, and he suddenly stood up and dashed out of the Great Hall.
“Hey Moony, what has a cycle of twenty-eight days?” asked Sirius absentmindedly, starting on another puzzle.
Remus stared at Sirius in shock, and hurriedly dashed out after James.
Sirius looked up at Peter. “What’s got his wand in a knot?”
Peter shrugged and bent over his plate as he stuffed his mouth with eggs and toast.
“Ah. It’s the moon,” declared Sirius triumphantly. After a moment, his victorious grin fell off his face, and he dashed out after Remus, only pausing long enough to grab the book of crossword puzzles.
Peter sat there a moment longer, gazing at the half-finished seconds and thirds of the other boys. He sighed, then gathered up the rest of the Marauders’s things and stood up, muttering, “Another day, another drama,” as he left the Great Hall himself.
He came upon four people arguing outside the Transfiguration classroom. “Here, Padfoot, Moony, Prongs. Take these,” said Peter, wearily pushing their possessions into their hands as they continued the argument with Lily Evans.
“You love me,” declared James.
“No, I don’t,” retorted Lily.
“How come my name was in the puzzle then?”
“Alright, so I heard Remus’s joke and thought it was funny.”
“The puzzle distinctly said, “Lilypad, She, Loves, James,” inserted Sirius.
“And what was that jibe about the moon?” asked Remus.
“I have no clue what you are talking about,” declared Lily.
“Come on, Lily. Just admit it,” advised Remus.
Lily’s face was getting red. “I will not admit anything, because there is nothing to admit!”
Sirius shook his head. “Four across and seven down, plus the prat clue, and the frog’s home.”
“What are you talking about?” said Lily.
James looked at her calculatingly. “You were seven seats down from me. Seven down was ‘she’. We were four, sitting across from each other. Four across was ‘loves’. ‘James’ fit in with ‘loves’, so it was no coincidence. And I recognized the double meaning of ‘lilypad’ before this all occurred to me.”
Lily was staring, dumbfounded, at the four boys now around her. “What has gotten into you lot this morning?” she asked weakly as Professor McGonagall opened the door to the classroom and let the boys file in to the back row of the classroom.
“Padfoot!” called out Peter accusingly, as he sat down on his seat and it burst into squeaks.
“What?” said Sirius, putting on an innocent expression.
“Lily, Pad. She loves James,” murmured Remus to himself, as his chair emitted howls until he shut them off with a wave of his wand.
James looked curiously at Sirius as his chair started into happy barks. “You charmed your own chair?”
“Oh, of course, Prongs. I didn’t know how soon we would come to class, and if we were late, I could have framed someone else. Ah, well.”
“What is my chair going to sound like?” asked James warily.
“Try it and see,” advised Remus.
James sat down and started at the snorts and huffs coming from his chair. After a moment it was joined by croaking. James looked around, but the only other person in the classroom was Lily ... who had just taken her seat at the front of the classroom ... and was looking at her chair with a horrified expression.
“Hello, Lilypad!” called out Sirius.
“Padfoot!” cried Remus, and James walloped the backside of Sirius’s head once.
“It didn’t mean that she wanted us to call her Lilypad!” whispered Remus hastily reproving him.
“Really?” asked Sirius. The other three nodded and Sirius sighed, pulling out the crossword book. Flipping through the pages, he stopped and grinned at a clue. “What’s an eight letter word for trouble?”
“Mischief!” said James, Remus, and Peter together, grinning.
“And this mischief has been managed,” said Sirius, finishing the word with a flourish.
A/N: I was just doing a crossword puzzle myself when I came across the lily clue from the beginning. Then I happened to remember the quote from Fudge in PoA. And as I wondered what got Sirius hooked on crossword puzzles, this just flowed from that little inspiration. Hope you liked this little one-shot.
As for the setting, I believe this takes place in the Marauder’s fifth or sixth year. Possibly seventh, but that’s debatable.
Thanks for reading! I hope you take the time to tell me what you thought!
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Posted: Wed Oct 29, 2008 1:39 pm
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Hiding from the Marauders
By Matelia-legwll
Summary: What happens when Lily accidentally runs across a certain room on the seventh floor by herself? R&R.
Genre: General/Romance JP/LE
Rating: K
Setting: This takes place in late fifth year. It could possibly be related to the OWL Pensieve Scene, but it might be the next day or something like that. Lily has just been out on the grounds of Hogwarts, and doesn’t want to think about certain people.
I stormed back into the castle and almost all the way to Gryffindor Tower, before I stopped abruptly in a seventh floor corridor. Going back to the dormitories wasn’t going to solve anything. Not where I had books for other tests to study for that would nag at my conscience. Studying for Transfiguration wasn’t going to get James Potter and all of his antics out of my mind. Even worse, my thoughts would be more focused on him. Darn him and his skill at Transfiguration. Maybe Potions... no, definitely not Potions, that would bring Severus to mind.
I started pacing up and down the corridor. What I needed was somewhere I could get my mind off of school, escape. The idea of music popped into my head, just before the stretch of wall I was pacing next to changed into a door. I stopped, startled. I wondered if the wall was pretending to be a door. I hadn’t fallen for that antic since first year. I tiptoed to the door, looked around at the deserted corridor and turned the handle to see if it was locked. It turned easily; I took one last look at my surroundings before disappearing inside.
Six hours later the portrait hole to the Gryffindor Common Room opened and I slipped inside.
“Where were you, Evans?” called a voice I knew too well the instant I set foot in the common room. I sighed. Who else, but James Potter, the boy I had exploded at earlier. He sounded more anxious than anything else, so I decided to face him and explain myself as calmly as possible.
“I was cooling down my temper,” I said shortly. I surprised myself with my own coolness. Apparently I was still quite mad at Potter.
“How?” burst out Potter. “And where?”
I tilted my head and thought for a moment. “I’m not exactly sure where I was; I’ve never been there before.” I admit I was being extremely vague, on purpose. I felt that he should be as vexed as he made me be.
A wave of satisfaction washed over me as I saw that Potter looked as exasperated as I had felt.
“I looked everywhere for you, Evans. Everywhere. I even —” Potter cut himself off, biting his lip nervously.
“Even what?” I asked, curious now.
“Even, er, went to Hogsmeade to look for you,” admitted Potter in a half-whisper.
To my intense curiosity, one of Potter’s mates, Peter Pettigrew, opened his mouth to say something, but Sirius Black, Potter’s best mate, trod on his foot. Now, I wondered as Pettigrew winced, what brought that on?
Realizing suddenly that Potter was looking apprehensively at me for a response, I hesitantly asked, “Why did you look for me in Hogsmeade?”
Potter let out a muffled sigh, of relief, I suppose. Then he shrugged and started rambling, “Well, you weren’t in the castle anywhere. I thought that maybe you had found one of the secret passageways to Hogsmeade. But you weren’t there either. You disappeared so completely that I started to worry that you had been attacked and died.” By this time, Potter had grown so agitated that he began to pace in front of me. I watched in dazed horror as he babbled on. “I thought that perhaps you had gone into the Forbidden Forest, so I g — ran around for ages looking for you in there. I asked Hagrid to look for you. I even asked Filch to look for you, but he just stared at me. I think he thought —”
I had raised my hand to stop the overflow of information, and he caught sight of that gesture and cut himself off mid-rant, to look at me expectantly for my explanation.
“Hang on. Back up Potter,” I said. “Of course I was in the castle.”
“But you weren’t,” insisted Potter. He is rather stubborn. “I looked everywhere for you.”
I held back a smile as a thought occurred to me. “Even the girls bathrooms?” I asked skeptically.
I expected him to start in surprise, or look guilty or ashamed that this had slipped his mind; I never expected him to nod firmly and say, “Of course I did.” I must have shown my shock and surprise, and perhaps the odd looks his friends gave him contributed, for he added, “Well, Myrtle helped me with the girls bathrooms.”
“Moaning Myrtle?” I asked weakly.
“Of course. She, kind of, fancies, er, Padfoot. It comes in handy sometimes,” replied Potter.
“Get to your point, Prongs,” encouraged Black. “Not everyone needs to know about who Myrtle fancies.”
Personally, I was shocked that Sirius Black and Potter’s other friends had all stayed quiet until this point.
Potter had a resolute gleam in his eye. “All right, Evans. You managed to avoid a determined Marauder for over six hours. Where were you?” demanded Potter.
I sighed again. The topic looked unavoidable this time. “If it is any of your business, I was on the seventh floor, in the room across the corridor from the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy.”
James Potter couldn’t have looked more confused if he had tried. “Who the what?”
Indulging myself with rolling my eyes, I slowly replied, “The tapestry of the bloke who was trying to teach trolls ballet and failing miserably at it.”
“Oh, him. Yeah. That tapestry.” Potter paused for a moment, then added, “But, there’s no room across the corridor.”
“Well, there wasn’t one,” I admitted, glorying in his confusion. “But then there was, and as you pointed out earlier, I spent nearly six hours in there.”
“Wait, Lily?” This came from Remus Lupin, another of Potter’s mates, however, he was also my fellow prefect, and the only one in their group that I have allowed to call me by my first name. “Was the room filled with, well, exactly what you needed?”
I pondered that question for a moment, then softly said, “Yeah. It was perfect. More than perfect.”
“What was in —” began Potter, but he was cut off by Remus.
“Wow. Lily, you found the Come-And-Go Room? I thought it was just a myth, a legend,” said Remus.
“What’s this, Moony?” asked Black.
“You must have been too busy eating when the house elves were talking about it,” acknowledged Remus with a questioning glance at Sirius. Black shrugged and Remus quoted, “‘The Come-And-Go Room, also known as the Room of Requirement, only appears when someone is in dire need of it. It will fill itself with exactly what the person needs or wishes for.’ They said it was Rowena Ravenclaw’s special room in the castle.”
“Moony, why didn’t you tell us about that room when we were writing the, er,” Potter threw a glance over at me before going on, “the History of Magic essay?”
After Black, Pettigrew and Remus all looked at me calculatingly, Remus said, “One, I thought it was just a legend, like Slytherin’s Chamber of Secrets. Two, I had no idea where it was. And three, the magic of the room would make it unplotable if you needed it to be.”
Unplotable? I stared at Remus, trying to understand. Why would that matter? Even though the conversation was getting more confusing, I stayed silent in the hopes that they would say something to satisfy my curiosity.
“Three good reasons,” piped up Pettigrew.
“Oh, be quiet, Wormtail,” snapped Black.
Of all their nicknames for each other, Peter Pettigrew’s nickname was the strangest. I had attempted to either figure out their nicknames or get them to blurt something out this entire year. Admittedly, I had failed. However, trying to get Potter or his friends to do anything they did not want to do was an impossible task. Hence, why I had been unable, so far, to get Potter to stop asking me out. At the most inopportune times, too.
I came out of my reverie to listen once more. “Surely we must have stumbled upon it once or twice. How come we never noticed it?” Black was asking.
“Because we would have only needed a broom cupboard,” said Remus dismissively.
“You mean, that broom cupboard we thought we remembered wrong fourth year when it disappeared on us when we went back to look for it the next day, was really this Room of Requirement?” asked Potter, completely confusing me with the run-on sentence.
Remus started, then said, “Wow, Prongs. I think you might be right. Why didn’t I see that?”
“Because you’re Moony and Prongs is Prongs, that’s why,” said Black, grinning.
“Thanks for stating the obvious, Padfoot,” said Pettigrew.
“You’re welcome, Wormtail,” replied Black glibly, then moved quickly away from Pettigrew to avoid Pettigrew’s almost automatic response to hit Black upside the head.
Potter shook his head in amusement, then said, “You do remember Wormtail is being sarcastic when he says stuff like that, right Padfoot?”
“Of course, Prongs,” replied Black with a cheeky grin.
“Argh!” I burst out in frustration. “Enough with the nicknames unless you give me a reason why Potter is Prongs, why Black is Padfoot, why Pettigrew is Wormtail, and why Remus is Moony!”
The four boys stared at me in various states of surprise and disbelief. I wondered for a moment if they had forgotten that I was still there. I felt resentful at this thought. I couldn’t very well have left, even if my curiosity had allowed it. During the conversation, all four boys had maneuvered themselves, perhaps unconsciously, into positions around me that blocked my escape routes to the girls dormitory, the fireplace, and back through the portrait hole. Black’s position even blocked the boys dormitory.
“Well,” began Pettigrew from behind me. He frowned, “I’ve got nothing.”
“Black?” I asked turning to my right to face him.
“Er, nothing,” said Black, looking caught off guard.
“Potter?” I said, turning back to him.
“Er,” Potter had this look of stunned panic, like an animal caught frozen in a car’s headlights. He shot a questioning glance at Remus, bit his lip, and seemed to regain his confidence, for he said, “Can’t tell you.”
I sighed. I didn’t really want Severus’s theories to be confirmed, but still the name ripped from my throat. “Remus?” My question hung in the air. I felt the tension in the room rise dramatically as the boy to my left froze.
In the pause, I heard Pettigrew mutter, “Come on, Moony. You can do it.”
Remus looked like he was debating with himself. He shook his head slightly then looked directly at me. “The nicknames just . . . fit our personalities,” he said clearly, and the tension dropped again as Potter, Black, and Pettigrew roared with laughter at this statement. I could have sworn that they thought this was the funniest thing any of them had ever heard.
“What?” asked Remus, dragging out the word and pretending to pout a little.
“You’ve got to be joking, Moony. That’s the reason you tell her?” asked James, still laughing.
“What’s wrong with that reason?” I asked curiously.
“Nothing, Lily,” said Remus hastily. He paused, then protested to Potter, “Prongs, I couldn’t very well tell her the long reason. Not yet, anyway.”
“True,” acknowledged Potter, sobering up quickly. His frown changed quickly into a smirk, however, when he heard my next question.
“Why not yet?” I said.
“Evans, will you go out with me?” The git had the nerve to smile charmingly at me while he asked.
I, however, glared back at Potter and said, “I’ve barely had the patience to answer that question once today. Do you really think my answer has changed?”
“Hope springs eternal,” was Potter’s response, complete with cute-puppy-dog eyes. I rolled my own eyes.
“No, Potter.” I said firmly.
“And there’s the rub,” mumbled Potter as he ruffled his hair, still with a smirk pasted on his face.
I paused, knowing that he was trying to get a rise out of me, but unable to help my curiosity. “What is that supposed to mean?” I finally asked.
“Nothing, nothing,” said Potter, waving a hand lightly. The hand wave must have been some sort of signal, for Black and Pettigrew immediately walked around me and, with a pat on Remus’s shoulder, over to the ‘Marauder’ armchairs in front of the fire. After a meaningful look between Potter and Remus, Remus followed Black and Pettigrew.
Increasingly aware of the lateness of the hour, the fact that I was alone with Potter and the Marauders in the Common Room, and the fact that all my friends seemed to have gone to bed already, I shifted nervously from one foot to the other, my mind filled with images of making a dash past Potter for the girls dormitories and being hexed or jinxed by Potter. This was most definitely irrational, but I was tired.
Potter, however, was just standing in front of me, one hand back in his hair, regarding me silently. I definitely did not want to admit how nervous that silent gaze was making me feel, so I just said, “Are you going to sit with your friends, or are you going to interrogate me some more?”
James started. I almost smiled at catching him off guard once again, but my months of training myself to keep my expressions bland in Potter’s presence thankfully kept me from doing that.
“Well?” I asked, rather impatiently.
“I just have one more question, Evans.” He paused, and I felt certain he was just dragging the question out for dramatic effect. “What did you find in the Room of Requirement?”
“What?” I burst out, shocked that he had gone back to that. I had, if I can admit it to myself, been expecting him to ask me out yet another time.
“I’m curious,” he said, shrugging.
“All right. Whatever.” I paused, remembering. “I found a room filled with instruments.”
“What, like the instruments in Dumbledore’s office?” Potter asked with a surprised look on his face.
This time I had to stifle a laugh. “No, silly. Musical instruments.”
I let myself drift away from the common room as I remembered the wonder I felt upon opening the door and finding the very things I had been missing. My fingers ached to touch the piano in the center of the large room. There were also stacks of music—every song I had liked to play and more if I desired a challenge.
There were more instruments in there than I could name. My fingers strummed a harp, glided along the curves of a French horn, and held the violin up to my chest. Nothing satisfied me until I sat in front of the grand piano and let my emotions and stress flow out through my fingers into the music.
One scale. . . two. . . I was soon singing along as I played my heart out. I have to admit, it is a marvelous release.
I had hated to acknowledge that I was falling asleep at the piano after six hours. I loved that room, and I told the room to be open for me the next time I needed it.
I was brought sharply back to the present, when I heard Potter murmur something. My cheeks coloured as I realized I had been reliving the experience with delight and the expression surely displayed on my face.
“What did you say?” I demanded, instantly distrustful of him.
Potter blinked. “When?”
“Oh, come on. Just now,” I said, now half wondering if I really wanted to know what he had murmured.
Potter frowned. “Did I say that out loud? Oh, well,” he shrugged. “I can’t tell you.”
“Why not? You just said it,” I protested, now fully wondering what I was getting myself into.
Potter laughed. Drat him and his contagious laugh. It made me smile like an idiot. “And I’ll say it yet again. ‘I can’t tell you.’”
This time I caught the quotes around the words. My face reddened with embarrassment. “Oh,” I muttered. I was now searching desperately for something to say, something to take his attention away from my ever reddening face that was now clashing with my hair. “You can’t tell me what, exactly?” I wanted to slap myself on the forehead, but that would draw attention to my embarrassed skin, and make me look like I wanted to make a good impression on Potter.
Potter opened his mouth to speak, then smirked. “You’re not going to get me that easily.”
I immediately shook my head. “That’s not what I meant to do, Potter. I was wondering what question I had asked that you happened to finally register and blurt out your answer.”
Potter rolled his eyes. “Evans, Evans, Evans,” he said disparagingly. He placed a hand on my shoulder that I had to glare pointedly at before he finally removed it with an “All right,” conceding to my unspoken request. Well, more like my order, however nice it felt to have it there. “But I am not that thick,” he replied to my question. “I was merely reminding myself of the promise I made to Moony — well, that we all made to Moony — when we first took on our nicknames.”
“Remus started the nicknames?” I asked, a little startled.
Potter tilted his head. “Not exactly. He gave us a reason to nickname each other (he never had real good friends before Hogwarts, you know), but the only one Remus came up with was Prongs, for me. I came up with Padfoot for Sirius, Peter came up with Moony for Remus, and Sirius came up with Wormtail for Peter.”
“I should’ve known,” I muttered.
“Known what?” asked Potter, suddenly anxious and interested.
“Only Black would have the gumption to name a fellow human being something like Wormtail,” I proclaimed.
Potter just smirked. And, to my utmost annoyance, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Black and Pettigrew high-five.
“Oh, grow up,” I muttered irritably.
Potter’s smile faded and determination filled his face. “I will tell you, one day. It might just change your opinion toward us.”
“James,” said Remus in a warning tone. I looked over at the three boys. Remus was looking worriedly at Potter. Pettigrew was watching Potter also, but Black was gazing straight at me, and I had the oddest impression that he was evaluating my reaction.
“I know, I know,” said Potter impatiently. “Nothing until she lets me.”
“Let you? How in the world am I in control of what you say, or do, for that matter?” I burst out, rounding on him. “I asked you the question, I’m allowing you the option of giving your answer, but I am not stopping you from saying anything!” My arguments with Severus have made me even more passionate about this subject than I would be normally.
Potter, however, gave a short, sad laugh. “Oh, yes, you asked. But you were already preparing yourself not to believe any extended explanation. You are stopping me from saying anything worthwhile because of your attitude towards me and my friends. If only you could trust us. Trust me. Then I could talk freely indeed.”
“Trust?” I asked skeptically. “You want me to trust known pranksters, liars, and jokers?”
“Sometimes reputations aren’t always true, Evans,” sighed Potter.
I shrugged. “I’ll give you that, Potter. But what about personal observation?” I countered.
“Touché.” Potter paused, then proposed, “Let me prove to you otherwise — that we are worthy of your trust.”
I considered it a moment. “Sure,” I agreed. “But how?”
Potter looked stumped for only a second. “I will take responsibility for everything that I do. I will not avoid the punishments, but take the punishment in full with no complaint. Pranking and joking is what we do, but I can promise a cut down in the number of pranks we will play, and the pranks will only be humorous.”
By the end of this speech, Potter looked quite pleased with himself, but Pettigrew and Black stared at him in horror, and Remus regarded Potter with slight admiration.
“What?” burst out Black.
Potter set his jaw and turned determinedly toward his best friend. “Padfoot, it’s Evans,” he said as if this statement explained everything.
A long pause later, while I was looking between Black and Potter anxiously, Black suddenly smiled. “You’re on.”
Potter turned back to me, grinning. “The only exception to this will be Snape. We won’t go out of our way to fight with him, but I can’t promise we won’t retaliate if he starts it,” he warned.
I stifled a yawn, and said, “As loyal as I am to my friends, even I have to admit Sev starts some of the fights with you four.”
Potter’s and Black’s jaws dropped. “‘Sev’?” repeated James. “And he’s still ‘Potter’?” added Black, indicating his friend.
I rolled my eyes as I started to walk towards the stair. Potter immediately jumped into my path and wouldn’t move out of the way.
“What?” I finally asked, frustrated with his determination.
“Call me James,” said Potter, acting like he was daring me to do something absolutely dreadful.
“What?” I stopped and stared at him in shock.
“Call me James,” he repeated.
“Would you please move out of the way?” I asked as I stepped to the left and he mirrored me.
“Call me James,” he demanded, a smirk finding its way to his face.
Swallowing, I said, “Fine, James,” and went passed him to the stair. Halfway up to the dormitories, I turned and smiled at the four dumbstruck boys. I should hide from them more often.
“What are you looking at, James?” I called, smirking.
James jerked his head up to look at me. “Something that is absolutely beautiful,” he cheesily proclaimed.
I shook my head. “Glad to see you think so highly of your Common Room walls,” I retorted as I climbed the stair again.
“That’s not what I meant, Lily,” muttered James.
“I know,” I murmured, before disappearing into my room and leaning against my closed door.
I slowly recalled everything that had happened this day, and a smile formed that wouldn’t leave my face. I should definitely hide from the Marauders more often.
A/N: I hope you liked this. I'm planning on eventually making this into a two-shot, but it can stand alone. Thanks for reading! Take the time and tell me what you thought.
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Posted: Sat Nov 08, 2008 10:54 pm
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I have 2 Harry Potter fanfics posted to my FanFiction.Net account: Umi Pryde.
The following is my second fic, which is just a short oneshot in Tom Marvolo Riddle's point of view.
Summary: Sitting outside in the rain, a young Tom Marvolo Riddle observes the world around him and it unleashes the deepest desire he'll ever know.
Disclaimer: I do not claim any rights to Harry Potter or characters, and I am making no profit from this.
Rating:K
Strike During the Rain
I find it queer how people tend to tire when it rains. I am not like them, I thrive on these damp, dreary days. That distinct smell that tingles the senses upon inhale fills my lungs with eager breaths as I silently watch the world around me.
Worms slowly slip up and onto the paths from their earthly beds, only to be picked and peaked at by passing ravens and robins on their way to their nests of young, away from here, probably chirping for their guardians return. Nature is so fascinating, those newly hatched chicks will be flying around, peaking at worms on the ground with in weeks.
I prefer to stomp the worms that sprawl up near my feet. I could pick them up, collect them like some of the other boys do. For fishing, I think, but I find it an utter nuisance and waste of my time.
The rain beats down stronger. As it flows down my head, it collects my hair in clusters around my eyes. A droplet is about to fall into the puddle at my feet.
That's when I see it. Out of the corner of my eyesight, near the stone wall of the vegetable garden, sits a small field mouse carefully sniffing the air for its next meal.
But it is not the mouse that has caught my interest. No, not the mouse, pathetic thing.
Instead my eyes focus to the blades of grass seemingly gliding with the wind just a few feet before the small creature. To anyone else it probably would seem a soft sway with the wind, but not to me.
I can sense it.
I grip the edge of the stone step I am sitting on. My heart is pounding faster, my breath quickens. My muscles begin to tighten at my shoulders down to the tips of my fingers and toes. I watch without blinking in anticipation of the attack I know is inevitable.
The lunge of pure instinct and vicious precision. Like a whip the black snake strikes out for the prey. My eyes widen as the fangs puncture through the fur and skin, pumping the paralyzing venom into the blood.
I can taste it. I lick my lips. It is as if the warmth of the kill is flowing down my throat. The sweet, intoxicating taste of death rushes through each of my taste buds, and yet I know it is not mine.
I watch the snake take its kill out of sight through a crack in the garden wall. As quickly as the snake strike the taste is gone from my senses. I try to get the feeling back by closing my eyes, but all I can sense is the rain falling down on me.
The sound of laughter permeates and echos in my brain. Opening my eyes I see Polly and John holding hands, skipping together towards the coastline. The laughter increases even as they go farther and farther away.
I pull myself up, taking firm, careful steps forward.
I want it. I want that sweet taste for myself.
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Posted: Tue Nov 11, 2008 11:28 pm
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Posted: Fri Dec 12, 2008 8:38 pm
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Posted: Tue Feb 10, 2009 7:33 pm
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Poker and Prongs's Plan
The Marauders have invented a new game, and while they play it, James gets sidetracked with an idea that he refuses to give up on until his goal is reached, exhausted all his resources, or is just exhausted himself. Which ever comes first.
Rated: K+
Genre: Humor
Status: in progress
*****************************
Poker and Prongs's Plan
- Part 1 -
"Call it Moony," Sirius said between bites of his cauldron cake. Lupin picked up some cards and placed them in the middle of the group.
"Two Ravenclaws and one Humphrey Boggart."
James swallowed the rest of his chocolate frog and then placed his bet.
"3 Humphrey Boggarts, and 1 Nicholas Flamel."
"Flamel. Someone's feeling over confident." Lupin observed.
"Nope. Just like seeing you sweat from the pressure Moony."
"Alright already, Wormtail." Sirius interrupted them, looking to the youngest member of their group. Peter sighed and popped a handful of Bertie Bott Beans into his mouth.
"Fold."
"Wuss."
"Wet-nosed mutt."
"Beady-eyed rodent."
"Sirius," James said. "Place your bet."
"Fine. 3 Ravenclaws and 2 Flamels."
"Ouch. Too rich for my blood." Lupin said tossing his hand down.
"Well Prongs, it's up to you." Sirius turned his attentions to his best friend.
"Put your hand where your foot is my friend."
"Royal Flush, Spades." Sirius laid his hand down with a giant smirk.
"What the newt!?" Peter exclaimed looking at the cards. James shook his head and turned around tossing his cards over his shoulder.
"Nice bluff Pads." Lupin remarked standing up and stretching. He went to the window and looked up at the night sky. It was a clear night, he could see the stars clearly but it was still really dark since it was a new moon. Lupin's favorite.
"I'm so glad we came up with this game. Using money is just boring, plus it gives us something to do with all the extra chocolate frog cards."
"Yeah, it sure beats wizard's chess." James agreed plopping down in the sofa, waving his wand at the fire place to make it warmer.
"Wonder if it will continue to catch on," Sirius mussed collecting his card winnings and stacking them in with the rest of his.
"What do you mean, we're the only ones playing it." Lupin said.
"Nope, actually we taught Professor Flitwick and McGonagall in detention last week." James corrected him folding his hands behind his head.
"Your deal Wormtail." Sirius said tossing the deck of playing cards to Peter. Peter stared at him from the corner of his eyes as he began shuffling.
"Besides some of the younger Gryffindors saw us playing after the Quidditch game of Slytherin and Hufflepuff and want to learn to play." Sirius added, as he ate another cauldron cake.
"We should really leave instructions behind for future generations of Gryffindors. Make a Hogwarts tradition out of it." James suggested.
"You mean another one, I thought making Filtch's life miserable, helping peeves pranking first years, and most detentions ever were enough for you."
"Nah, just the icing on the Marauder cake." James smiled.
"I guess we could write the instructions down on some parchment with a fire resistant charm on it and place it behind that loose brick above the fireplace." Lupin suggested turning around from the window.
"Ready." Peter interrupted.
"Deal em out."
James, Sirius and Lupin walked over and sat back down in the circle as Peter dealt the cards out in their spots.
"Are we going to teach the rest of Gryffindor then?" Lupin asked as he organized his hand.
"Why not?" Sirius and James responded at the same time.
"Don't start that again!" Peter whined.
"Shut it Wormtail." they said together.
"We could go get them right now. It's Friday night so it's not like we have classes tomorrow." James suggested hopping up. "Come on. Wormtail, Moony, you two go get the boys and Padfoot and I'll go get the girls."
Peter and Lupin exchanged looks but didn't say anything. They proceeded to get up while Sirius followed James to the girls dormitory stairs.
There was a loud thud and Remus and Peter quickly turned their heads back towards the common room just in time to see Sirius and James fly back through the air and crash into a sofa, falling down backwards with it. They were too stunned to say anything.
James and Sirius pushed themselves up from their backs with their elbows.
"Whoa, what a rush." Sirius said as he grabbed his head with his left hand. James carefully stretched his neck from side to side as he waited for his eyes to finish refocusing.
"What was that?" Peter asked looking to Remus for the answer. Remus shock his head, his eyes still on his two friends sprawled on the back of the sofa that now was resting on the floor.
"You two alright?" he asked Sirius and James. They each looked at each other and then back at him.
"Lived through worse I suppose," James replied pulling himself up. He then offered his hand to Sirius.
"I won't be jumping at the chance to try that again any time soon." he said rubbing the back of his head and neck. "Bloody hell that hurt." he muttered.
There was a loud clamor of footsteps from the stairs, accompanied by giggles and excited conversation.
"Who was that?" / "Did a boy really try to get up here?" / "Wonder who it was, don't you?"/ "Who would even dare try?"
The boys all looked at each other with confused looks on their faces as the Gryffindor girls slowly joined them in the common room.
"SIRIUS BLACK!" one girl squealed. "JAMES POTTER!" another girl squealed. Others joined her in pointing them out. Some gave him and James questioning glances and others seemed to notice that Peter and Remus were in the room as well.
"What were you two doing trying to get up to our dorm?" a seventh year asked them suspiciously. The younger first and second years giggled madly.
"Ugh, we were...ugh..." Sirius began, he looked to James for help. James opened his mouth to give his answer just as another voice came shouting down from the stairwell.
"What boy would be dumb enough to try and get past the enchantment to our dorm!" Lily Evans came into the room and took one look at James and Sirius and then crossed her arms in front of her chest. "I should have known. What are you two up to now?" she demanded.
"Nothing." Sirius replied honestly. "Honestly." James added. No one seemed to believe this.
"I'm sorry to interrupt," Remus broke into the conversation as he walked over and joined Sirius and James in the middle of the room. "But did you say something about an enchantment?" he asked the girls curiously.
"There's one to keep boys out of the girl's dormitory. It's in each house tower, been in place since the schools founding." the seventh year who spoke up earlier explained. More girls broke into fits of laughter around her.
"But girls have come up to ours before." Peter said.
"The founder's trusted that girls would be responsible enough not to try I guess."
The Marauders looked at one another. Sirius seemed to be lost in his own thoughts, Remus was obviously perplexed, James was on the verge of excitement, and Peter was staring blankly with thoughts of how much longer till breakfast.
"Sorry for waking you up ladies." James said finally. He gave an awkward wave and turned trying to hide the wide grin he couldn't stop from forming across his face. He walked past Peter and up the stairs to the boy's dormitory.
Sirius gave a wink at the girls and then ran after them. This seemed enough for the girls so they too turned and went back up to bed, giggling more now than when they had come down.
Remus waved his wand around the room, cleaning their snacks up, standing the sofa back up, and collecting their piles of spare chocolate cards before he turned and joined Sirius in walking up to their room.
Peter followed behind them after he gathered the deck of playing cards staring from the cards down in his hands to the back of Sirius head all the way up the stairs. They were very quiet as they entered their dorm rooms and got ready for bed, each shooting the occasional glance to their door as they changed into their pajamas.
"Tomorrow." James said in a determined voice as they all lay down. The Marauders closed their eyes and welcomed the darkness, letting their thoughts drift and ebb as the each sunk within the depths of their own dreamland.
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Posted: Tue Mar 03, 2009 3:05 pm
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I have quite a few fanfics, mostly Harry Potter, but not all. I also write a lot of bandfics. If you like the fic below and want to see mainly HP fiction, visit me here. If you like this and want to see all of my stuff, then visit me here. And, above all, I love taking requests, so send me any you want to see!
The below fic was loosely inspired by an episode of King of Queens. mrgreen
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter or the other trademarked items.
Name: The Top Ten
Pairing: Percy Weasley/Oliver Wood
Genre: Fluffy Romance/Humor
Rating: PG-13 for language and suggestive references (but mostly language)
The Top Ten
“We really have nothing in common, do we?”
Oliver Wood looked up from polishing his broomstick to see that his boyfriend Percy Weasley had, in one of his rare moments, set his book aside. Oliver immediately dropped his broom. “What do you mean?”
Percy shrugged, looking somewhat miserable. “We don’t seem to have anything in common. You have your sports, I have my books. You’re a future professional Keeper, I’m a future, as you call it, Ministry Rat.”
“You love saying ‘I’ and ‘Ministry’ in the same sentence, don’t you?” Oliver smirked.
Percy smiled proudly, but swatted Oliver’s arm. “I mean it, Ol. How are we supposed to have a relationship if we aren’t anything alike? I mean, I can’t have a future with someone that I don’t understand.”
Oliver’s heart sped up. Percy looked both anxious and slightly guilty for voicing his thoughts.
“What are you talking about?” Oliver laughed nervously. “We have plenty in common!”
Percy snorted and turned back to his book. “Just forget it. If you’re going to joke about it…”
“Who’s joking?” Oliver snapped, stung. “I’m serious!”
Percy raised an eyebrow. “Well, then, you’re mental, aren’t you?”
“No, no, come on!” Oliver implored, tugging on Percy’s wrist. “Come on. There has to be something we have in common. Like, what’s your favorite color?”
“Black,” Percy replied without hesitation. “Yours?”
Oliver shrugged. “Black is close enough.”
“No, not ‘close enough’! What is it?”
“… Light blue.”
“How in God’s name is that ‘close enough’?”
“They’re both colors.”
Percy rolled his eyes. “Wow, Ol. Those are some strict standards you’re using.”
“Come on, Perce, don’t give up. Let’s try another one.”
“Oliver, give it up, okay? It doesn’t matter. I was being stupid.”
“No, you had a good point.” Oliver snatched Percy’s book and whipped it across their dormitory, ignoring Percy’s cries of indignation. “What’s your favorite Muggle movie?”
“I’ve only seen about twenty, Oliver, if that.”
“So what? You must have a favorite.”
“Fine. Suicide Kings with Christopher Walken.”
“Oh. Mine, uh… Mine’s Nutty Professor with Eddie Murphey, but that’s okay, that’s okay!”
Percy groaned and rubbed his eyes. “Oliver, forget it. This whole thing is stupid.”
“Oh, I’m not stopping! Not till we find something.” Oliver jumped up and started pacing around the room. “Favorite band?”
“Matchbox Twenty. They’re a Muggle band my dad listens to.”
“Eminem, Muggle rapper. They’re sorta like each other, right?”
“You go ahead and tell yourself that, Ol. Now give me my bloody book back!”
“Not yet, don’t give up!” Oliver snapped his fingers and grinned. “I got it. We make a list.”
Percy cocked an eyebrow, thoroughly annoyed and becoming increasingly more so. “A list. Of what?”
“Of our top ten favorite things.” Oliver scrounged through his book bag and pulled out some parchment, two quills, and a pot of ink.
“Oliver, this is ridiculous!” Percy attempted to shove the parchment away. “I didn’t mean it, all right? Everything’s fine.”
“Percy.” Oliver looked at him seriously. “It’s either make a damn list or admit that you were wrong. Which’ll it be?”
Percy sucked in his cheeks and averted his eyes. “Oh, fine, give me the stupid parchment,” he finally growled. He glared at Oliver’s grin.
“Anything specific?” Percy asked, dipping the quill and neatly titling and numbering the parchment.
“Nope. Your top ten favorite anything will do.” Oliver was already scribbling hurriedly, biting his lip in thought. Percy shook his head at the unbelievable situation he was in and started to write.
Within ten minutes, the both of them were done writing and had settled for staring anxiously at each other. “So… What if we don’t have anything in common?” Percy asked quietly.
“I…” Oliver stared down at his list as if it was a death warrant. “I don’t know. We break up, I guess.”
Percy’s thumbnail flew to his mouth and he set to work chewing on it. “Oliver, it’s not too late to turn back. We can just rip them up, you know. I didn’t mean for this to go as far as it has.”
“Percy, don’t you think we should know?” Oliver argued. “I mean, you were right earlier when you said that no one can be with somebody that they have nothing in common with. Even if we do break up – “ here his voice cracked – “it’ll be for the best.”
Percy sighed. “Okay, I guess you’re right. So, what do you have for number one?”
“Quidditch,” Oliver replied automatically.
Percy rolled his eyes and smiled. “I have reading. But I guess that’s no surprise, right?”
“Right.” Oliver gave him a watery smile. “Okay, number two. My broom.”
“What?” Percy stared at him. “Isn’t that basically the same thing you put for number one?”
“No. A broom is a noun, and Quidditch is a verb!”
“Oh, come on, now, Oliver. They’re opposite sides of the same bloody stick.”
“Are not!”
“Are… Oh, forget it. I have rainy nights.”
“’Rainy nights’? Are you serious? This isn’t a Jane Austen novel, it’s a list!”
“Well, that’s my list!”
“You yell at me for putting my broomstick, and you put rainy ******** nights?”
Percy smacked him in the shoulder. “Do you want to hear the list or not? We still have eight things to go.”
“Yeah, yeah, you’re right, I’m sorry.” Oliver checked his list. “Okay, number three. Beanie Weenies.”
Silence followed. Finally, Percy sighed. “Oliver, pardon my language, but what the ******** are Beanie Weenies?”
“They’re only the best food probably ever!” Oliver answered, stunned by Percy’s suddenly tragic lack of knowledge. “Beanie Weenies are cans of baked beans and slices of hot dog.”
“Oh God! And you eat that?”
“Hey, they’re delicious. I can’t imagine you have anything better than Beanie Weenies.”
“Actually, yes, I do. Writing reports.”
Percy seemed less than thrilled when Oliver broke into peals of laughter. “What? What’s funny?”
Oliver waved his hand, apparently too overcome by howls to speak. He eventually managed to choke out, “You… Are such… A… Freaking… D-Dork!”
Percy went red. “Oh, piss off!” he snarled, slapping the list down on the bed.
Oliver stifled his snickers and grabbed Percy’s hand. “No, no, no. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It was just… Well, it was kinda funny. Just so typical…”
Percy huffed quietly. “All right, now, calm yourself. Okay, number four: bagpipes.”
“Oh, whaaaaat?” Oliver groaned in disbelief. “Dude. Bagpipes? That’s just flat-out wrong.”
“What is so wrong about bagpipes?” Percy argued.
“Uh, you mean besides the part about them sounding like the bodily functions of an immensely fat, bald man? Nothing.”
“Oh, shut it. What do you have?”
“Little Debbie snack cakes. Any kind, doesn’t matter.”
“Snack cakes. Right.”
“What? What? I can see the judgment in your eyes, Percival Ignatius Weasley, and I’m not liking it.”
Percy held up a hand, looking exasperated. “God, I’m not even going to comment. Number five, please, and quickly.”
“Okay. Pie.”
“Oh, hey, me too!” Percy was practically squealing with joy. “Thank God, I was so afraid it wasn’t going to happen. Something in common, finally!”
“Yup,” Oliver laughed, relieved. “Good ol’ pie. Chocolate, cherry, apple…”
“Wait.” Percy cut him off, looking not only crestfallen, but somewhat incredulous. “You mean pie? Like the kind you consume?”
“Yeah.” Oliver frowned. “Why? What’d you mean?”
“Oliver!” Percy groaned. “I didn’t mean the edible pie! I meant pi! The number!”
Oliver’s face fell. He grabbed a pillow, slammed it over his face, and screamed into it.
“It’s your fault, you bloody gastronome!” Percy shrieked. “Jesus Christ! Do you ever think about anything other than sports and Quidditch? It’s ridiculous! Pie! Little Debbies! Beanie ******** Weenies! You don’t have an ounce of intellectual substance in your body, do you? You are a total food-obsessed, meat-headed glutton!”
“Well, I’m sorry if I don’t have a Goddamned nerdgasm every time I see a really long number!” Oliver roared. “Pi? The number pi? Who the hell are you? I always knew you were a dork, but this is way over the line!”
“Oh, just shut up!” Percy hissed. “This is the stupidest thing we’ve ever done. Let’s just tear up the damn lists before we kill each other!”
“If we kill each other, we’ll at least die knowing whether or not we have anything in common!” Oliver barked. “We are doing this. Never accept defeat!”
“It’s not defeat if we just quit!” Percy pleaded, but Oliver shouted over him.
“Number six! I have the color blue!”
“We already established colors at the beginning! You already know I have a different favorite color!”
“I WAS RUNNING OUT OF IDEAS, PERCY!”
“Fine! Don’t snap at me! I have Valentine’s Day.”
Oliver stopped dead, his face losing the red color it had taken on. His grimace of frustration was replaced by a small smile. “V-Valentine’s Day? Really?”
Percy’s cheeks flushed pink. “Yes, really. So what?”
“Nothing,” Oliver replied, still smiling. “It’s just kinda… Cute, that’s all.”
Percy pursed his lips and glared. “Ol. I am in no mood. Okay? Now let’s go on to number seven, and I swear to God, this had better at least be close.”
“I’m golden, Perce. I’m sure of it.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yup. I have rugby.”
Percy threw his hands up in the air. “Why the hell would I put rugby? I hate rugby and everything it stands for! I hate everything that you can possibly associate with physical activity, you dumbass!”
“Well, sorry! I thought maybe you had some sort of drive to make yourself a better person. But I’m sorry for just assuming that you had ambition.”
“Oh, don’t start with me!” Percy shouted, smacking Oliver sharply on the shoulder. “Don’t even get me going on the subject of ambition. Now then. I have Jake Gyllehaal for number seven.”
“Jake Gyllenhaal?” Oliver was dumbfounded. “That stupid pretty boy in that weird movie about the bunny?
“Donnie Darko is arguably the greatest movie my dad has brought home, and besides, Jake is hot and sweet. So just read number eight and leave me alone with my fantasies of Jake.”
“I’ll pretend not to be completely offended. Now, number eight… I wrote summer.”
“I wrote winter.”
“Oh, well then, that’s bloody fantastic!” Oliver seethed. “We can’t even agree on a season!” He grabbed Percy’s shoulders and shook him. “How are we going to raise children together if we can’t even agree on a season?”
“Oliver, calm down!” Percy squeaked, frightened. “Good lord. We still have another two things. So. Number nine.”
“Right.” Oliver cleared his throat. “Number nine.”
They stared blankly at each other for several moments before Oliver said, “Well?”
“What do you mean, well?” Percy asked nervously. “Read it.”
“I…” Oliver’s eyes widened in quiet panic. “I thought you were gonna read yours.”
“Oh, absolutely not,” Percy whispered, his breath ragged with anxiety. “You read yours.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re braver than me.”
Oliver heaved a great sigh. “Okay. I wrote… The fresh smell of lilies.”
“Oh, come on!” Percy yelped. “You pansy!”
Oliver looked positively gobsmacked. “Pardon? Why am I a pansy?”
“The smell of lilies,” Percy mocked in a deep, dreamy voice. He faked a gag. “It’s not as romantic as you might think, you know.”
Oliver flushed. “Well, what’d you put, Mr. Rainy Nights?”
Percy threw his head back proudly. “I put down sex.”
Oliver’s jaw dropped. “But we’ve never…”
Percy smirked. “I know.” He looked at his nails haughtily. “I already told you who I’ve been with.” He looked up at Oliver with fluttering bedroom eyes. “Marcus Flint is pretty good, you know.”
Oliver flung his list in the air. “That’s it! That’s absolutely it!” He started pacing angrily. “We really do have nothing in common. You’re a horny nerd and I’m a compulsive-eater jock. How the hell did we ever think this was going to work?” He stopped and ran his hands through his hair. “I can’t believe that this is all it took to turn us against each other. Look at us! We’re bitching and yelling at each other, and why? Because we can’t even agree on one ******** thing. I really thought we could make it. I thought we could do something great together, make a life together. I thought that…”
“Oliver, shut up,” Percy whispered hoarsely. He held his list up in shaking hands. “We still have number ten.”
“Perce, please,” Oliver sighed. “Don’t make this more difficult than it has to be…”
“Oliver, listen.” Percy stood and gripped Oliver’s shoulders, staring into his eyes. Oliver shifted uncomfortably, feeling as though he was suddenly naked. “Listen,” Percy repeated. “I know it’s scary, and I know the odds are against us, and I know that we are really, really different. But at least give it a shot, Ol. If you were losing on the Quidditch pitch, would you stop trying? No. If you lost after giving up, would you be satisfied? Of course not. Because you wouldn’t have done all you could. This is no different, Ol. Take the chance. Even if things don’t work, at least you tried.”
Oliver closed his eyes, feeling far older than seventeen. He opened them to see Percy, biting his lips with a furrowed brow. Oliver took a deep breath.
“Yeah. We’ll try it.”
Neither of them had to look at their lists. They stood face to face, breathing raggedly, each knowing that they were teetering on the edge of loveless oblivion.
“Number ten,” Percy mumbled.
“We say it at the same time,” Oliver nodded. “On the count of three. One… Two… Three.”
In unison, they both blurted out the one thing that meant the very most to them, the one thing that they loved the most in the world.
In unison, they both said, “You.”
Dumbstruck, they stared at each other, neither quite believing their ears. Percy managed to pull himself together enough to jump into Oliver’s arms and sob with relief.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Oliver muttered into Percy’s neck as they embraced. “We do have something in common.”
Author's Note: Hope you guys liked it!
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Posted: Sat Apr 11, 2009 10:52 pm
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Morning Discovery
Summary:It’s Saturday, and the first weekend of the marauder’s sixth year. Everyone will wake and find something interesting has occurred that will have the ability to change all their lives. All because Lily makes a profound discovery.
Every Chapter is told in a character's point of view, the first being Lily's
Lily's Morning
I could not sleep, so I get dressed in a plain golden yellow turtleneck and a brown plaid skirt of tan, gold, and red stitching. I picked the outfit out in the department store because it reminded me of the Gryffindor common room wall tapestry. I'm not sure why I bothered with it really, I haven't been the biggest one for school or house pride while attending school at this place. I try to smile. This place, Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Witchcraft. Witch. That is what got me started with all of this five years ago. I found out I was a witch and it changed my life forever. The first four and a half years were extraordinarily fun, but towards the end of last school year, everything changed. I changed.
I head down the dormitory stairs into the common room, which is completely empty, not surprising given the early hour and the fact that today is Saturday. Still, I cannot help but get this uneasy feeling as I head out of the portrait hole.
Why is it the stairs and hallways seem harder to navigate when you are by yourself? I noticed that when I became a prefect, but the question still pops into my head as I have yet to discover an appeasing answer.
It doesn't take me long to reach the bottom of the grand staircase. I suppose it is too early for breakfast, maybe I'll go outside and read a bit, clear my head. Distract myself from my overwhelming feelings and thoughts that I shouldn't have bothered coming back. One week, that is how long it has been since my return here and somehow it just doesn't feel the same. It just isn't as fun or exciting as it was before. I turn around and climb back up to the fourth floor and then walk down the hallway till I reach the clock tower. I take the stairs down that lead out of the tower and into the court yard.
I reach forward and grab the large circular pull handle of one of the entrance doors and I let out a soft sigh of relief because it isn't locked. The crisp morning air rushes in and tickles my face. Closing my eyes, I step out into the morning light.
It is going to be a gorgeous day. I can tell. The leaves are just beginning their fading into their ambers and browns, it is truly one of the more beautiful things about nature.
I am about to walk out into the inviting air when a thought suddenly occurs to me. I look down at my hands in dismay.
Just brilliant Lily, I mentally scold myself, Exactly how did you plan to read without a book? This is all I can take, I hate to admit it, but my eyes are watering and tears are falling down the sides of my face.
Footsteps from behind me jerk me out of my current thoughts, I reach up and quickly wipe my hands over my eyes to try to hide the fact that I was crying.
"Evans?"
I turned to face the owner of the questioning voice and find myself staring at James Potter, of course he would be the one I run into when I feel like being alone.
"Potter? What are you doing up this early?" I ask trying to get an early start on the conversation and perhaps keep it clear from me altogether, but then I know whom I am talking to and the chances of this actually working are slim. Still, I can try.
"I could ask you the same thing Evans." James retorted tilting his head to one side with that half smirk of his. I have to admit, it has been strange hearing James Potter call me Evans instead of Lily, but for some reason this school year he has actually begun to acknowledge my past five years worth of requests for him to do so.
"I couldn't sleep and I just wanted some fresh air." It isn't a lie, not exactly, but I can't help feeling as if I am lying. Why is that?
"Lily, is something wrong?"
"No." I immediately shoot back at James's inquiry. I know he asked because he is trying to be considerate, but that does not mean I want to talk to him about my problems. It is not as if we are best friends or anything. Not that I have any here at school, not anymore anyways.
"You sure, it looks to me like you're upset and you got tear tracks on your cheeks." I can't believe this, he actually seems genuinely concerned. No, I cannot talk about it, not with him. I turn my head away, I know it is rude, but what else am I suppose to do!?
"I'm fine really, it's nothing," and to contradict myself I wipe my face with the edges of my sleeve. Brilliant. "I just got upset with myself because I wanted to go outside and enjoy the weather but I forgot to bring a book with me."
"Oh, is that all," James replies flatly, I cannot help but turn to him wondering how he can even buy that excuse. Not that is a lie, I did intend to come out here and read, and I did forget to bring a book, it's just not the real reason why I was crying. I know it is rude to stare, but it seems to be the only thing I can do. I have no words to say to him. I cannot explain it.
"Well why don't you come out anyways," James interrupts my thoughts, "There's plenty you can do outside without a book."
"Like what?" my curiosity getting the better of me. Plus it keeps the topic away from the real reason why I was crying, I'm so clever. Well, most of the time anyways.
"How about a walk with a classmate." I'm not exactly sure whether that is supposed to be a question or a suggestion. And why does he have to look at me with that hopeful expression!?
"A walk with you? Why would you think I'd want to do that?" Spare me, I know it is rude, but as I said before I do not wish to talk with him, and he can never take a hint.
"Well you're here, I'm here, and I've got to go set up the Quidditch field for the tryouts after breakfast today and I would enjoy the company." He replies with a sheepish grin. It doesn't fool me, I have seen it before, but that doesn't make it less sincere I guess.
"Fine." I reply to him, "But just the walk and only because there is nothing else to do right now."
"Right." he replies walking out of the castle and closing the door behind us with a quick flick of his wand. How he knows how to do that is beyond my comprehension of him. And frankly, it's probably better for my sanity not to know.
We walk together around the courtyard and onto the covered bridge in silence. It's irritating.
"Thank you-" I blurt out, I really did not mean to say anything. But, since I have, I might as well finish the thought. "Thank you for not being obnoxious about this." I really should just keep quiet now that I have heard myself aloud. That really didn't sound that rude in my head. Honest. How can he not hate me when I talk to him like this?
"About what, walking with me? What did you expect me to say?" He asked with a shrug motion that ended with him placing his hands into his pockets. He really can be sweet, sure he's obnoxious at times, but nothing I say ever seems to bother him. I used to think it was because he was never actually listening to anything I said to him. It seems though, I'll have to edit my previous thoughts on him slightly. I said slightly now, don't get any funny ideas that I'm beginning to like him. Because I'm not. I don't.
"I don't know, something about how my agreeing to walk with you implies I've grown romantic feelings for you. Which I haven't." See, there, I actually said it. Ha!
"I didn't say anything."
"You may have been about to though." I can't believe he nodded to that. Does that mean I have that much of an understanding of him! Scary thought, get out of my head now please. Yes, well, anyways we arrived at the Quidditch field entrance and James pulled out a brass key from his pocket and unlocked the door. I wasn't expecting that, usually he just breaks into things, but I suppose he received the key so he could set up from McGonagall or someone else. It just seems odd that he'd use it. I wonder if it's because he is with me that he's using the conventional method of entry? No, that's a silly thought, I've seen him break countless school rules with his friends and he never seemed to mind that I did. What am I thinking?
"Ladies first," James smiles at me holding the door open with is left arm while he stands to the side to make room for me to walk past. I can't help it, my eyes just roll like this naturally, I swear. It is slightly habit when someone acts like this though, I mean why is it considered good manners to let a woman walk into a room first when there could be some unknown danger lying in wait inside. Ha, wow, I don't even want to think about who that sounded like just now. Nope.
"The equipment room is this way," James says turning to his left. He stops and looks back at me.
"I'll wait here, unless you need me to help or something?"
"No, you're fine right there. I'll just be a moment," He gives me a warm smile as he points his thumb over his shoulder, "I just need to bring out a few of the school brooms and the ball case."
I give a nod and turn my attention to the stands. I don't usually come onto the Quidditch field like this. In fact, the last time I was down here was all the way back during first year flying lessons. I never enjoyed them. It's not exactly something I have a talent for, flying. The field seems longer than this from up in the stands, and yet from down here the whole thing seems a lot taller. Perspectives can be funny like that I guess, kind of like first impressions. This school makes me double guess everything. Why does it have to do that to me, why?
A loud thud makes me jump and jerk my head around. James was back and apparently decided to just drop the ball case without warning. Not that he really needs to give a warning, but I find myself wishing he had.
"Alright then," He looks to me as he brushes his hands of the dust. "Just need to go set up up in the stands and then I'm done. Want to come up with me?"
I just shrug and follow him after he nods and heads towards one of the wooden staircases that leads up to the viewing stands. It's a very long climb when you're going up by yourself. I mean, I know James is right in front of me, but still. Just like walking through the castle, this just feels odd. Maybe it's just me though.
We reach the top and Potter goes straight to work. I take a seat on one of the benches so I won't be in his way. He conjures four clipboards and places them on the front table where the announcer usually sits. From his pocket he pulls out what looks like a stop watch and sets it down on the table.
"Okay then, all done." he turns to me and announces. I can't believe it.
"That's it?" I ask him in disbelief. I just got comfortable on the bench here and he's already done!
"Yeah," he gives me a childish smile and gestures around him. "Doesn't take too much effort, it's why I volunteered."
Figures. I don't even know why that shocks me slightly. I roll my eyes at him again as I stand up and head down, this time I'm in front. The nerve, he's laughing to himself behind me. Does he really think I can't hear him?!
We arrive back down on the field and I head towards the entrance we came in.
"Evans, wait!" James calls from behind me.
"What now?" the thought plaques my mind as I turn around to face him.
"Sorry, I just remembered I didn't check the balance of the brooms yet. Let me do that, then we can head out."
"Sure." I nod and walk slowly following him as he races over to the ball case and brooms. Exactly how did I end up following Potter again? And why am I still here, it's not like he needs me here for this. What do I know about Quidditch or flying in general?
James mounts onto the first broom and kicks off. I envy him. I can't help it. The ability to kick off the ground and just keep soaring higher completely torn from the pull of the earth. It has to be an extraordinary feeling.
"Want to try?" James's voice reaches my ear and I turn my head quickly. Apparently he decided to soar down and sneak up on me, the jerk.
"No thanks," I reply with a mildly shaking voice. I swear it's because he caught me off guard. I do not fear flying. I don't.
"You afraid Evans?" James asks me cocking his head to the side. Why does he seem to be able to read my mind? Why!? And why won't he stop looking at me like that, it's creepy. Okay so it's not entirely creepy, but it certainly makes me uncomfortable standing here next to him while he's observing me like this.
"No." I tell him but I can tell he doesn't believe me. I'm not even sure I do anymore. Just how far can that boy raise his eyebrow anyways? He lets a short laugh escape him as he jumps down off the broom. He goes over and exchanges the broom he just flew on with the other one he had brought out earlier.
"Come on then, let's go for a ride together." He says hoping up onto the broom. Potter's feet hang over the ground by just a few inches. I can't help but stare at him like he's insane. And to say something like that just now, he has to be right? Right?
"Together?" I can't believe him sometimes. "On the same broom, are you insane?" I'm so glad no one is around. Yes, I am aware of the uselessness of asking an insane person if they are in fact insane. But still, I asked the question and now I can't take it back.
"Sure. Why not? There's plenty of room," James replies scooting forward on the broom slightly. The broom doesn't even teeter as he does. Wait! Did he just dodge my question on his sanity?! I open my mouth to speak but before words can come out of me he stretches out his left hand at me and gives me an encouraging smile.
"Come on Evans, I'll be doing all the work, all you have to do is hang on and enjoy the ride."
[ the rest can be found here ]
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Posted: Mon Jun 08, 2009 11:03 am
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This is a tribute to Neville that I wrote a while ago. It is posted on Fanfiction.net under the username RulernAvOst. smile
oOo
Say my name
So I will know you're back you're here again
For a while
oOo
He stared down at the man lying on the bed. His eyes not blinking, not moving. Just staring at the still form of the unmoving man. «Neville.» His whisper was soft, gentle. The small sound disappearing quickly in the middle-sized room.
«Can you say it dad? Neville.» He gripped his father's hand, his grip firm, like he was afraid that if he let go, the man would disappear. He stared into empty, vacant eyes. Wishing, hoping, dreaming to see something there.
But no. The only thing gleaming in those dead-like eyes was a deep, hollow abyss. If abysses could gleam at all, that is. «Please dad...» He whispered softly, a single tear slipping down his cheek. «I need to know that you're there somewhere...»
The grip tightened. A soft sob escaped the nine year olds lips. «Say my name...»
oOo
Oh let us share
The memories that only we can share
Together
oOo
She was still beautiful. He ran the brush softly through the woman's long brown hair. Her eyes distant as she stared into the mirror, not really seeing her own reflexion or the reflexion of the child behind her.
Her face was pale and gaunt, her hair was thin and splinted, her eyes cold and empty with a glimpse of insanity in them. But in his eyes, she was still the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. She was his mother, after all.
«I got an O in Herbology, mum.»
His voice was gentle, quiet as he talked to her, almost as if he talked to loudly he'd scare her, terrify her, hurt her somehow. Or perhaps he was scared, that if she heard loud noises, she would be driven deeper into the pit of insanity she was already buried so deeply in.
«Neville?» His grandmothers whisper entered the room. It was only in the company of his parents that Neville never heard her rise her voice. She was also worried about her son and daughter in laws fragile state of mind.
«Yes grandmother?» He continued to brush his mother's hair. «It's time to go.» Neville looked up at her, with a small sigh of disappointment. «If only you could only show this level of maturity on school Neville.»
He chose not to respond, his entire focus on the straight brown hair in front of him. He dared not to look into the distant eyes in the mirror. For now, he could pretend that everything was alright.
oOo
Tell me about
The days before I was born
How we were as children
oOo
He smiled at the older man seated next to him. His father was humming a bit for himself. His eyes not focusing more on the present than he had the last time he had been here, or the time before that. Or the time before that again.
The thirteen year old boy stared mournfully at his father, wishing back to better times, wishing back to times he couldn't remember.
«Do you remember, father?» Neville whispered softly, as if afraid that any sharp noise would cause his fathers mind to split further apart. And Neville was afraid, so very, very afraid that he could say something, anything, which might cause any further damage to their non-existent sanity.
The man didn't acknowledge Neville's words, and continued to hum a tune, a tune which wasn't really a tune at all, for the mans mind had spiraled so far into the depths of insanity that all concept of music was lost to him.
«I wish I could remember, Dad.» The hum was a bit louder now, the empty, toneless hum, which never changed tone, but didn't remain in the same beat. Neville privately thought that the only reason the tone wasn't just monotone but also repeating, was because the mans sense of rythm was just as dead as the mans sense of the different kinds of tone.
«I wish I could remember the days you were sane. The days before Bellatrix Lestrange» He spat the name like it was poison on his tongue, «attacked you and mother. The days we were a family. I wish I could remember your warm embrace as you held me, and my mums calming lullabies.»
Neville paused for a while, listening to his fathers monotone humming tone. «Everyone does tell me she was great at singing, after all...» Neville couldn't bear seeing his father's rocking body nor listen to his monotone humming anymore.
It was a constant reminder of his father's state of mind, after all.
Neville stood up, and with a last whisper of goodbye, he left the room, only a sound of empty tones following him out.
oOo
You touch my hand
These colors come alive
In your heart and in your mind
I cross the borders of time
Leaving today behind to be with you again
oOo
Two pair of empty brown eyes, one pair as dark as chocolate, and the other of cold honey, stared up at the roof. Neither humming, neither speaking.
It hadn't sunk in yet, Neville realized. This time, there would be no dead humming. This time, there would be no candy paper to bring home.
His parents conditions had grown worse over the months. Especially his fathers. He was almost non-responsive. And it caused a shiver to run up sixteen year old Neville's spine. It meant that his parents were farther away from recovery now than ever.
He dragged his chair away from his mother's bed to his father. His hand reached for his father's hand, placing his own over the bigger hand. The older mans hand was so cold. If Neville didn't know better, he would've thought his father was dead.
A cold shiver ran up his spine, and Neville knew he couldn't stand to be in that cold room any longer. He let go of his fathers hand and walked to the door, staring at the two forms in the two separate beds.
The thought of neither of them never recovering was now very ideal.
It was a cold and hard truth. But a truth yet the same. And Neville, being the Gryffindor that he is, would handle it. His father's hand fell off the the mattress, hanging unmoving in the air. Well, he hoped he could.
oOo
We breath the air
Do you remember how you used to touch my hair?
oOo
He entered the room, his steps light as not to disturb the unnatural peace in the quiet room. His mother's head moved towards him, her eyes seeing straight through him into unknown realms behind him. Sometimes, he wondered what she saw, in her insane fragile mind.
Neville knew that he could never ask, though.
Alice didn't even react to the screeching sound the chair made as he dragged it over the floor, closer to her bed. She just continued to stare at the empty air.
Neville was tired. So very, very tired. It was Christmas now, and he was attending his seventh year. He laid his head down next to his mother's lying body, trying to relax in the only familiar atmosphere he had left.
A soft, and slightly cold, hand rested on his head. Neville's breath caught up in his throat. He dared not breathe. He was afraid that if he looked up, the feeling of the cold hand would disappear, and he'd find out that it was only his imagination. So he closed his eyes, and let the small hand stroke his hair.
Eventually, the visiting hour was over, and Neville had to return to his grandmother's house. And later, return to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, which had lately turned into a small piece of hell itself.
oOo
You're not aware
Your hands keep still
You just don't know that I am here
oOo
«Dad?» He whispered into the small room, not really expecting a response. «The war is over now, dad. Harry did it!» Neville reached for his father's hand and squeezed it gently. «Bellatrix is dead as well... Molly Weasley killed her, dad.»
«The monster of a woman tried to kill her daughter, you see... So Mrs. Weasley became furious...» Neville's eyes brimmed with tears. A small part of him had hoped that when Bellatrix died, his parent's would be okay again. But of course, he had known that it was just a silly little hope.
But even though he knew that it had been silly, why did the limb hand in his cause him to hurt so much?
oOo
It hurts too much
I pray now that soon you're released
To where you belong
oOo
A twenty year old Neville sat at the edge of his mother's bed. He was ecstatic. Just a few hours earlier, he had heard the fantastic news. They had found a cure. Well, kind of.
A young potion master from Greece had invented a potion which would cure the damage made on the mind by continuous and prolonged exposure to the Cruciatus curse. And now, they were soon going to administer it to his parents.
For the first time since Neville started Hogwarts, a flicker of hope for his parents sanity burned in his heart. He hadn't dared hoping anymore when he started Hogwarts, when he realized they had made no progress what so ever.
oOo
Please say my name
Remember who I am
You will find me in the world of yesterday
oOo
«We're going to give them the potion in a week from now.» Neville's heart soared as he heard the news the healer had given him. He practically bounced his way over to the ward his parents resided in.
Neville rushed into the room his mother laid in, and almost skipped over to the chair by her bed. «Have you heard the news yet, mother? They've found a cure! You can finally return home, mother. You and father can finally return home!»
The woman at the bed just smiled her usual smile at him, and handed him some candy wraping paper. Neville gave her his most brilliant smile, and gave her a heartfilled thanks.
oOo
You drift away again
Too far from where I am
When you ask me who I am
oOo
A happier day then the day in which Neville could bring his parents home, he was sure he was never going to experience.
He squished his father's hand when he heard the soft moan escaping the man. «Where... Am I?» The man stared at the roof, blinking. «Dad?» Neville whispered softly, trying to gain the awakening mans attention.
Neville was met with two brown eyes, and for the first time Neville could remember, those eyes looked at him. Not through him, not above him, not beside him, but actually at him.
He could feel his heart soaring at the thought.
«It's me. Neville. Your son..» The man blinked, as if not really grasping what he was saying. «You and mum have been in St. Mungos for twentythree years now.» Neville was speaking as softly as he could. It was after all hard news to break to the other man.
Brown eyes stared more intently at him than ever. «I... have a son? No, that's not right.»
As the words escaped his fathers lips, Neville felt his heart leap from the warm bubbly feeling in his chest, to a uncomfertable choking... thing in his throat.
As the next words passed the lips of the man who hadn't said a word since he had screamed in pain twentythree years previous, Neville stood up and stormed out of the room, tears of sorrow, pain, disappointment and of crushed hopes streaming down his cheeks.
A feeling of such heart-break which he hadn't experienced since he had realize his parents were never going to be better burned on his chest like the fires of the most fierce dragon.
«Who... Are you?»
oOo
Say my name
These colors come alive
In your heart and in your mind
I cross the borders of time
Leaving today behind to be with you again
Say my name
oOo
Neville laid in his bed, staring up at the roof, his eyes trailing ever line, memorizing every square of the white roof.
«I'm afraid that your parents memories are almost completely gone.»
His eyes met the red wall as he turned around, the ticking of the clock behind him, causing his eyes to narrow slightly in a mild annoyance.
«When will their memories return?»
The events of the day had fatigued him. And still he seemed unable to rest.
«I'm afraid... They won't return. The few memories they have is of each other.»
Sobs could be heard through the thin walls. Seems like he wasn't the only one distressed over the news of the day. He felt angry. Angry at himself. He had never known them. But now, his grandmother had lost her son and her daughter in law for the second time.
«I'm afraid, that you can't meet them. We're sending them out of the country. Their minds are too fragile.»
«Fragile? I thought you had healed their minds?!»
«We've healed their sanity, yes. But they're still standing on the edge of the abyss.»
«But.. Why can't we see them?!»
«It is too risky. I'm afraid I have to forbid it. If you try to come into contact with them, we'll go to court. I'm sorry.»
Neville's fist curled around a small piece of old candy paper. His thumb stroking the texture softly, imagining it to be rough and warm as his fathers hand. Imagining it to be soft and splintered like his mothers hair.
A soft sob shook Neville's body. Watery tears streaming down his slightly chubby cheeks.
He had wished. He had hoped.
All in vain.
The small piece of candy paper fell down to the floor, and somewhere, far away, the woman who had given the paper was laughing in the arms of her beloved husband.
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Posted: Mon Jun 08, 2009 1:48 pm
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Well, this is my first (and only at the moment) Harry Potter story. It's kind of...well...bad. But I mentioned it in my common room, and people want to read it. So I guess here you go...
Title: Hermione's Other Side
Pairing: Remus/Hermione
Rating: T
Summary: Hermione Granger hasn't been herself lately. Can a visit to a certain werewolf help her get back on track?
POV: Remus's
What’s happened to her? That girl that has always been at the top of the class, never getting in trouble…what’s happened to her? I ask myself this constantly as I wait for her to come to my classroom for…wait for it…detention.
Yes, young Hermione Granger has gotten a detention.
I know, that’s hard to believe, the goody-two-shoes getting in trouble. But, I had to do it. She isn’t the same as she was before.
Before, she was a bright, young girl with a promising future. Before, she was the one that was always helping people with homework and getting constant excellent grades. Before, she would befriend teachers and steer clear of troublemakers. But now…she’s one of them.
Yes, Hermione Granger is a troublemaker. I once saw her sneaking into the Forbidden Forest after hours and lighting up a cigarette. I’ve given out more F’s to her than I have to anyone else in my whole class. She’s dyed her hair black and wears chains now. And I’ve seen her use Polyjuice Potion to transform herself into someone older so she could go into a bar, get herself drunk, come stumbling through Hogwarts Castle, and having a hangover the next morning. She wears more makeup than Cho, Lavender, and the Patil twins put together. I’ve also seen her rolling around in empty classrooms with random boys…luckily I stopped them before they could go too far. She skips class constantly, and when she doesn’t, she’s either talking back, not doing her homework, or just being obnoxious. I didn’t think it was possible, but I think she’s taken a turn for the worst.
I doubt that Harry and Ron are even friends with her anymore. She’s been seen hanging out with Slytherins lately…they seem to accept her more now…although it’s not really a good thing.
My head snapped to my door when I heard someone knock on it. Undoubtedly her. I sighed and got up. Walking to the door and opening it, I gave her a soft smile.
“Hello, Hermione” I said as nicely as I good. She rolled her eyes.
“Lupin” she said, starting to walk inside. But I stopped her.
“No cigarettes in my room, if you please” I said carefully, nodding at the long, white pole of junk hanging out of her mouth. She rolled her eyes again, dropped the cigarette in the nearby garbage, then invited herself into my room. I looked after her with sad eyes as I closed the door.
She sat herself down on top of a desk and her feet rested over the back of the chair in front of her. I didn’t even bother telling her not to, she won’t listen.
“So, what are we doing today, Wolfie?” she asked, using that horrid nickname just to be mean. “Lines? Organizing your supplies? Maybe kicking your a**?” Lupin just stared at her. This was the usual treatment he got from her, he was used to it.
“Hermione…” he said firmly, but calmly. Hermione huffed.
“Could you just tell me what I’m doing so I can get out of this b***h?” she said rudely. I sighed.
“You’re going to be organizing my files in alphabetical order” I said, motioning to a file cabinet with masses of papers hanging out of it. “Just do as many as you can in the hour we have, and then you can go.” She nodded ever so slightly, got off the desk and went straight to work. I smiled slightly at the fact that some of the old Hermione still dwelled inside of her.
As she got to work, I noticed something about her. The way she smelled like smoke, the way her clothes contoured with her body, the way her hair was tossed in a messy way that only she could wear…it all seemed…attractive.
“No, no, Lupin, get a hold of yourself. She’s your student…it’s wrong what you’re feeling” a voice inside my head cried out. I shook my head, as if to shake the voice from my mind, and went back to my own work.
The hour went by with lightning fast speed. Before we both knew it, Hermione was pushing her way out the door, as if she had an important meeting to attend to, but I held her back.
“Hermione, we need to talk” I said, grasping her arm tightly. She turned around, an angry look in her chocolate brown eyes.
“Get your hand off my arm” she snarled through gritted teeth. I did not loosen my grip.
“Not until you come back in here and we talk” I said. She sighed dramatically, but obliged. I led her back to a desk, then sat in front of her. She slouched back in the chair and looked around the room, as if trying to find something more interesting than being lectured. I sighed yet again, then leaned over the desk in front of hers and folded my hands on it.
“Hermione, we have some things we need to discuss…” I said slowly. She keep her eyes lazily circling the room. I have reason to believe that she hadn’t heard a word I said.
“Hermione…” I repeated. Still nothing. “Hermione! Look at me when I’m talking to you!” I shouted, a little louder than I anticipated. I could see her jumped slightly, but still turned to look at me.
“Alright…we need to talk about your attitude here at Hogwarts” I said. She sighed lazily.
“What about it?”
“Well…I’ve talked to Professor Dumbledore about your previous record…and we’ve come to this conclusion…” I paused for a moment to make sure I still had her attention, then continued. “If you don’t clean yourself up and start going back to your old ways…we’ll have to expel you…” I saw Hermione sit bolt upright as she hear this. Her eyes were wide and her mouth was hanging open in disbelief.
“No! You can’t!” she screamed. “I have to stay here! I can’t go home!”
She was standing by this time, her hands on top of the desk, and her body leaning over it, looking me straight in the eyes. Could I see…pleading in her eyes?
I forced myself to look away. It killed me inside doing this to a student, but I knew it must be done.
“I’m sorry, Hermione. But unless you get some help for yourself, you can’t stay here. You’re a danger to yourself and everyone around you. I’m sorry…”
I finally allowed myself to look at her again. What I saw broke my heart.
Her face was streaked with tears, her eyes red, and her makeup running down her face. Her hands shook with such intensity that I thought they may never stop. And I could hear her draw in shaky breaths, giving away that she was truly crying.
“Hermione…” I said gently, putting an arm on her shoulder. She pulled away and stormed to the other side of the room, burying her head in her hands and crying softly. I sighed, then got up and stood a good 3 feet behind her before saying, “Hermione…talk to me. Why can’t you go home?”
She pulled her hands away from her face, but didn’t face me. I could hear her sniffle and my heart went out to her immediately. I slowly walked closer, but didn’t dare touch her yet, hoping she wouldn’t run away on me.
“Hermione…?” I asked softly. She pursed her lips together, then she sort of half turned toward me. I took a deep breath.
“Come on, let’s sit down” I offered, leading her over to a table in the back of my room. We both sat down next to each other, me looking at her with sympathy and her staring down at the table. She let a few stray tears fall onto the table, obviously not caring that I could see them. She leaned her head against her hand, but never took her eyes off the polished wood in front of her. I reached over and rubbed a comforting hand on her shoulder again, but this time, she didn’t pull away.
“Please, talk to me” I begged subtly. She breathed deeply, her lower lip trembling just slightly. “Why can’t you go home?”
After a long pause of uncomfortable silence, she finally spoke up. “My mother…and father…” she said, so quietly I could barely hear her. I decided not to interfere, just let her tell me what she wanted to tell me. “They…well…the last time I went home…my mother cheated on my father…she went out with all these other guys and had affairs every night without him knowing…and…I kind of…told him about it…” She choked out another sob before continuing. “And…my mother…found out…and she…s-she…” Hermione couldn’t seem to get the last part of the sentence out without sobbing.
“She did what, Hermione?” I asked her gently, trying not to push her over the top. I scooted closer to her and extended my arm around both her shoulders as she cried. After she calmed down, she finally finished her sentence.
“S-She…she abused me…she would beat me every day…whip me with one of her belts…rape me…She beat me so bad once I couldn’t even get out of bed because it hurt so much…then she…she moved out. My parents got a divorce…and I was left with my father…Which I thought was going to be better, but…it was only worse.” My eyes widened with every detail she told me.
Then she continued. “And, when I went to live with my father,” she continued, “he blamed me for my mother leaving him…he would abuse me as well, but twice as much as my mother had. He would even leave me outside in the cold…saying I wasn’t good enough to sleep in the house…and I was forced to sleep outside in our dog kennel while our dog slept in the house…I would freeze in the winter, catch colds when it rained, and get constant sunburn in the summer. He didn’t even give me extra clothes I could change into…all I had were my shorts and T-shirt…I wasn’t allowed to shower, change, or leave the backyard…I had to go to the bathroom inside the kennel…he would make me do painstaking work…and he starved me half to death.” Hermione took in another shaky breath, then went on. “That’s when I decided to send an owl to Ron and ask him if I could stay with him…so he, Fred, and George picked me up in that flying car of theirs and I lived at the Burrow until school started…” When she finished, she finally looked me in the eyes. I looked at her, appalled.
“That…that’s horrible!” I exclaimed, not believing what she was telling me. She nodded slightly, and let the remaining tears fall from her eyes. I couldn’t take it, I gently wrapped my arms around her shaking form and she cried into my chest.
“Oh, Hermione…” was all I could say before planting a soft kiss on her head. I rubbed her back as I heard her cries begin to cease.
“I don’t wanna go back” she pleaded, the sound muffled by my shirt. “Please don’t make me go back, Professor…” Professor. That was the first time she’d called me that in months.
I held her closer with every pleading sob that escaped her mouth.
“You don’t have to go back, Hermione…” I whispered in her ear. “Not unless you clean yourself up.” I felt her sigh beneath me, then start to pull away. She looked down for a moment, then looked up.
“But…I don’t know if I can…I’m too weak…” she told me, barely audible. I put two fingers under her chin and lifted her head so she looked me in the eyes.
“Don’t say that. You’re one of the strongest people I know. You may be a little…different right now, but you’re still the same Hermione you were before. I know, deep down inside, you’re still the same smart, nice, funny girl. You’re a wonderful person, Hermione. You just need to clean yourself up a bit and let it show.” Hermione looked down and smiled for the first time that day. I grinned when I saw this.
“Thanks, Professor…” she said, still smiling. She looked up at me and time seemed to have stopped.
I looked in those beautiful eyes, still a little red and swimming with tears, old and new. I saw her eyes close slowly and our heads were moving together.
Closer…closer…closer…then, before I knew it, our lips were locked in a sweet, passionate kiss. After a couple seconds, we both realized what we were doing and pulled away quickly. She stared at me, an unbelieving look on her face. I was ready to apologize, but I saw the corners of her lips curl up into a smile.
“What took you so long?” she asked, her smile ear to ear now. I let a slow, easy smile spread across my face as we went in for another kiss.
When we pulled apart, I kept her in my arms and asked, “So, will you clean yourself up?” I smiled when I felt her nod.
“Yes…I’ll do anything to stay here with you” she said, grinning at me. I grinned back.
“I love you, Hermione” I said, putting a hand on the side of her head, tangling my fingers in her curls.
“I love you too…Remus” she replied, using my first name for the first time since she met me. We smiled and hugged each other close, knowing that we wouldn’t let each other go for anything.
It's a little rushed at the end, I know...sorry if it's not that great. But I'm thinking of writing more HP fics soon, since summer's almost here. B)
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