three redundant hp ficlets
Jan. 23rd, 2006 02:14 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fearlessfanWas wasting time earlier today by clicking around my hard drive when I found these pieces of fic, which have been soundly made redundant by the latest Harry Potter book. I remember they were to be part of this big post-OotP story I was going to write, for which I had, like, no plot at all. I think I was going through a phase where I was trying to sound British - I use the word "knackered" in this, very probably incorrectly.
All that said! I'm posting these because, well. I feel like it. That's the kind of power I gained when I created this fic journal. Here are three scenes with very little to hold them together, though the first two kind of run together. The third is less connected - a different POV, come to think of it. Oh well!
I will close with everyone's favorite pre-fic announcement: None of these has been beta-ed. Is that the past tense of beta?
~rescue mission~
Harry’s invitation to the Burrow came three days before his sixteenth birthday, in the form of Hermione Granger telling a great big lie. She arrived at Privet Drive in the early evening, interrupting dinner, and when Harry opened the door and saw her standing there, breathless with nerves and pink with deceit, he couldn’t help thinking of Professor Umbridge being led to the centaurs.
“Hermione,” he said.
“Harry,” she said, in a whisper. “I’m here to rescue you.”
“Is something –“
“No, no things are – things are as good as they’re going to be, now,” Hermione said. “It’s you we’re worried about. We need to get you away from –“
“Can I help you?” Aunt Petunia was all solicitousness, at first. Hermione, hair off her face in a neat ponytail, wearing modest tan shorts and a green T-shirt, looked nothing like the bushy-haired, frantic girl Petunia had seen from a distance several times at King’s Cross.
And then Hermione introduced herself.
“I’m Harry’s girlfriend,” she said, with a smile.
Petunia's smile twisted into something like a grimace. "Oh."
“Harry’s girlfriend?” Dudley dropped the chicken leg he’d carried with him to the front door and made an elaborate show of snorting in disbelief. “Right.”
“I am,” Hermione said, looking at Dudley with something like disgust.
“She is,” Harry said, a moment too late and without the conviction to make the lie believable.
“I’ve come to pick you up," she said, and then with a nod, "To meet my parents. Remember?”
“Ah yes,” Harry said. “Right. Meeting the parents. Very important.”
“Don't you want to go get your things?” Hermione prompted.
“Yes, definitely,” Harry said.
"I'll help," Hermione said, pushing past the Dursleys and following Harry up the stairs.
Five minutes later, Harry's trunk packed, Hedwig set out into the late afternoon air, Hermione sat down on Harry's unmade bed, letting out a sigh. "Now we just wait for the portkey," she said.
"Portkey?"
Hermione held up her right hand, which had a thick silver ring on her middle finger. "Five more minutes."
"Right," Harry said.
"Dumbledore said to wait here for it to activate," Hermione said, twisting the ring around her finger. "He said this was a safe place."
"It's supposed to be," Harry said.
"Sit down here, Harry. You're making me nervous. It won't do much good for the portkey to go off and just take me, we'd have to do the whole thing all over again," Hermione said.
Harry sat down. Hermione took his hand, her palm warm and the silver ring cool against his skin.
“What horrid, horrid people. How can they keep putting you back there, Harry?”
“Blood magic,” Harry said.
“Blood magic,” Hermione said, in a tone she usually reserved for words like Divination and Professor Trelawney.
“It’s supposed to be really powerful,” Harry said.
“I know,” Hermione said. “I read a book about it, actually. It's just - you shouldn't -"
She didn't finish the sentence, but Harry could guess the rest of what she meant to say. She stayed quiet for the rest of their time at the Dursleys, save for one small sniffle, and a quiet, "Almost time," just seconds before Harry felt the familiar tugging sensation at his navel.
~scars~
Ten minutes after their arrival in the Burrow's cluttered sitting room, and nine and a half minutes after Mrs. Weasley enveloped him in a hug that made Harry feel lightheaded for a reason he couldn't name, Harry's stomach still felt unsettled by the portkey. The portkey, he told himself. Not the sight of Ron’s left arm.
Ron led them out of doors, Ginny on his heels, after Mrs. Weasley stuffed Harry's and Hermione's hands with biscuits. Ron wore an old orange Chudley Cannons T-shirt with enchanted Quidditch players flying to and fro. One of them was stuck on the left sleeve, trapped by a fold in the fabric near Ron’s shoulder, flying up and then down again, over and over, turning sharply just short of Ron’s arm, still dotted with ugly round red marks from his wrist all the way up his arm, beyond the hem of the sleeve.
Ron caught Harry looking. “It’s fine,” he said, with a shrug. “Doesn’t itch or anything. I reckon it gives me an air of mystery.”
“Ron fancies himself the first red-headed James Bomb,” Ginny said.
“Oh, shut it,” Ron said. “You’re just jealous because you don’t have a new broom.”
“You’ve got a new broom?” Harry welcomed the new topic.
“Yeah, hang on,” Ron said, taking off at a run for the lopsided shed by the pitch, calling over his shoulder, “It’s fast as anything.”
“It’s also from Fred and George, so it’ll likely turn into a turnip in three months,” Ginny said.
Harry smiled.
~their first kiss~
The first time Harry kissed Ginny she was laughing.
The DA meeting had let out ten minutes before, and they sat side by side in the classroom, leaning against the wall, exhausted from the particularly lively meeting on top of the Quidditch practice they'd had just before.
"I'm knackered," Harry said.
"Me too," Ginny said.
"We should go to dinner," Harry said.
"Yeah."
Neither of them moved.
"Ron's going to eat all of the good stuff," Ginny said. "We should go."
"Yes," Harry said. "Definitely."
Still neither of them moved.
"Do you think too much revising can, I dunno, suck your life force or something?"
Out of the corner of her eye, Ginny could see that Harry was smiling when he said, "I dunno. Maybe."
"I think it can," Ginny said. "Snape's given us three separate essays this week. Three! And if I'm not trying to finish those stupid things to his satisfaction, then I'm desperately trying to prepare for class so I don't make a complete arse of myself in front of him."
"The way some of us have before?"
"Oh, that's different," Ginny said. "When he's cruel to you, it's just because he hates you. When he's cruel to me, it's because I'm stupid or ill-prepared."
Harry didn't say anything back. After a minute, Ginny turned to look at him. He was wearing a funny expression on his face. "What?" she asked.
"Nothing," Harry said quickly.
"Sure?"
"Yeah, definitely," Harry said, and cleared his throat. "Just, you know. Thinking about Snape. Did Ron tell you what happened this morning in Potions?"
Ron hadn't, so Harry did, doing a spot-on impression of Snape that made her snort with laughter. It made her laugh so hard, in fact, that she sat with her eyes closed for a few moments after, catching her breath, still laughing a little bit, and so she didn't see what was coming next: Harry kissed her. It surprised her so much that she snapped her head back and smacked it against the stone wall she was leaning against. She saw stars.
"Bloody hell," she said, tentatively touching the back of her head.
"Ginny, I'm –"
"Don't apologize," Ginny said, so quickly that she felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment. "I mean, if that's what you were going to do. Were you?"
"Yeah," Harry said. He looked awkward and tortured and in that moment Ginny loved him more than she had her entire life.
"Don't," Ginny said. "I was just surprised, is all. You can do it again. If you want. I won't hurt myself this time."
"Yeah?" Harry said.
"Yeah," Ginny said, softly.
Harry did. It didn't hurt at all.
~end~
All that said! I'm posting these because, well. I feel like it. That's the kind of power I gained when I created this fic journal. Here are three scenes with very little to hold them together, though the first two kind of run together. The third is less connected - a different POV, come to think of it. Oh well!
I will close with everyone's favorite pre-fic announcement: None of these has been beta-ed. Is that the past tense of beta?
~rescue mission~
Harry’s invitation to the Burrow came three days before his sixteenth birthday, in the form of Hermione Granger telling a great big lie. She arrived at Privet Drive in the early evening, interrupting dinner, and when Harry opened the door and saw her standing there, breathless with nerves and pink with deceit, he couldn’t help thinking of Professor Umbridge being led to the centaurs.
“Hermione,” he said.
“Harry,” she said, in a whisper. “I’m here to rescue you.”
“Is something –“
“No, no things are – things are as good as they’re going to be, now,” Hermione said. “It’s you we’re worried about. We need to get you away from –“
“Can I help you?” Aunt Petunia was all solicitousness, at first. Hermione, hair off her face in a neat ponytail, wearing modest tan shorts and a green T-shirt, looked nothing like the bushy-haired, frantic girl Petunia had seen from a distance several times at King’s Cross.
And then Hermione introduced herself.
“I’m Harry’s girlfriend,” she said, with a smile.
Petunia's smile twisted into something like a grimace. "Oh."
“Harry’s girlfriend?” Dudley dropped the chicken leg he’d carried with him to the front door and made an elaborate show of snorting in disbelief. “Right.”
“I am,” Hermione said, looking at Dudley with something like disgust.
“She is,” Harry said, a moment too late and without the conviction to make the lie believable.
“I’ve come to pick you up," she said, and then with a nod, "To meet my parents. Remember?”
“Ah yes,” Harry said. “Right. Meeting the parents. Very important.”
“Don't you want to go get your things?” Hermione prompted.
“Yes, definitely,” Harry said.
"I'll help," Hermione said, pushing past the Dursleys and following Harry up the stairs.
Five minutes later, Harry's trunk packed, Hedwig set out into the late afternoon air, Hermione sat down on Harry's unmade bed, letting out a sigh. "Now we just wait for the portkey," she said.
"Portkey?"
Hermione held up her right hand, which had a thick silver ring on her middle finger. "Five more minutes."
"Right," Harry said.
"Dumbledore said to wait here for it to activate," Hermione said, twisting the ring around her finger. "He said this was a safe place."
"It's supposed to be," Harry said.
"Sit down here, Harry. You're making me nervous. It won't do much good for the portkey to go off and just take me, we'd have to do the whole thing all over again," Hermione said.
Harry sat down. Hermione took his hand, her palm warm and the silver ring cool against his skin.
“What horrid, horrid people. How can they keep putting you back there, Harry?”
“Blood magic,” Harry said.
“Blood magic,” Hermione said, in a tone she usually reserved for words like Divination and Professor Trelawney.
“It’s supposed to be really powerful,” Harry said.
“I know,” Hermione said. “I read a book about it, actually. It's just - you shouldn't -"
She didn't finish the sentence, but Harry could guess the rest of what she meant to say. She stayed quiet for the rest of their time at the Dursleys, save for one small sniffle, and a quiet, "Almost time," just seconds before Harry felt the familiar tugging sensation at his navel.
~scars~
Ten minutes after their arrival in the Burrow's cluttered sitting room, and nine and a half minutes after Mrs. Weasley enveloped him in a hug that made Harry feel lightheaded for a reason he couldn't name, Harry's stomach still felt unsettled by the portkey. The portkey, he told himself. Not the sight of Ron’s left arm.
Ron led them out of doors, Ginny on his heels, after Mrs. Weasley stuffed Harry's and Hermione's hands with biscuits. Ron wore an old orange Chudley Cannons T-shirt with enchanted Quidditch players flying to and fro. One of them was stuck on the left sleeve, trapped by a fold in the fabric near Ron’s shoulder, flying up and then down again, over and over, turning sharply just short of Ron’s arm, still dotted with ugly round red marks from his wrist all the way up his arm, beyond the hem of the sleeve.
Ron caught Harry looking. “It’s fine,” he said, with a shrug. “Doesn’t itch or anything. I reckon it gives me an air of mystery.”
“Ron fancies himself the first red-headed James Bomb,” Ginny said.
“Oh, shut it,” Ron said. “You’re just jealous because you don’t have a new broom.”
“You’ve got a new broom?” Harry welcomed the new topic.
“Yeah, hang on,” Ron said, taking off at a run for the lopsided shed by the pitch, calling over his shoulder, “It’s fast as anything.”
“It’s also from Fred and George, so it’ll likely turn into a turnip in three months,” Ginny said.
Harry smiled.
~their first kiss~
The first time Harry kissed Ginny she was laughing.
The DA meeting had let out ten minutes before, and they sat side by side in the classroom, leaning against the wall, exhausted from the particularly lively meeting on top of the Quidditch practice they'd had just before.
"I'm knackered," Harry said.
"Me too," Ginny said.
"We should go to dinner," Harry said.
"Yeah."
Neither of them moved.
"Ron's going to eat all of the good stuff," Ginny said. "We should go."
"Yes," Harry said. "Definitely."
Still neither of them moved.
"Do you think too much revising can, I dunno, suck your life force or something?"
Out of the corner of her eye, Ginny could see that Harry was smiling when he said, "I dunno. Maybe."
"I think it can," Ginny said. "Snape's given us three separate essays this week. Three! And if I'm not trying to finish those stupid things to his satisfaction, then I'm desperately trying to prepare for class so I don't make a complete arse of myself in front of him."
"The way some of us have before?"
"Oh, that's different," Ginny said. "When he's cruel to you, it's just because he hates you. When he's cruel to me, it's because I'm stupid or ill-prepared."
Harry didn't say anything back. After a minute, Ginny turned to look at him. He was wearing a funny expression on his face. "What?" she asked.
"Nothing," Harry said quickly.
"Sure?"
"Yeah, definitely," Harry said, and cleared his throat. "Just, you know. Thinking about Snape. Did Ron tell you what happened this morning in Potions?"
Ron hadn't, so Harry did, doing a spot-on impression of Snape that made her snort with laughter. It made her laugh so hard, in fact, that she sat with her eyes closed for a few moments after, catching her breath, still laughing a little bit, and so she didn't see what was coming next: Harry kissed her. It surprised her so much that she snapped her head back and smacked it against the stone wall she was leaning against. She saw stars.
"Bloody hell," she said, tentatively touching the back of her head.
"Ginny, I'm –"
"Don't apologize," Ginny said, so quickly that she felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment. "I mean, if that's what you were going to do. Were you?"
"Yeah," Harry said. He looked awkward and tortured and in that moment Ginny loved him more than she had her entire life.
"Don't," Ginny said. "I was just surprised, is all. You can do it again. If you want. I won't hurt myself this time."
"Yeah?" Harry said.
"Yeah," Ginny said, softly.
Harry did. It didn't hurt at all.
~end~
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Date: 2006-01-23 10:12 pm (UTC)Kara+Lee 4eva!