Harry Potter ~ Bad Weather ~ PG
Title:Bad Weather
Fandom:Harry Potter
Author:deviatesellen
Character/relationship:Harry Potter
Theme number:#1~Bad Weather
Disclaimer/claimer:I don’t own Harry Potter and am not making any profit at all from fanfiction.
Summary:Harry faces his rain.
It is bad weather outside of #4 Privet Drive. Harry snaps together the clasp of his worn, old backpack and the faint snap it makes jolts him out of his daze with a type of finality, a type of solemnity. Ron and Hermione will be there in ten minutes, and from then on…
(He has always loved the pitter-patter comfort of the rain. He can remember being small, weak, and only the dark, the woody smell of the cuboard under the stairs and the distant sound of rain were the only things that were in his own world with him.) The rain drums against his window, and he reaches out a hand. When he takes it away from the glass, an outline of it allows him to see the road and two heads under a their black hoods, protecting them from the rain. Brown and red, visible against the wet black of the asphalt. And, even now, trapped again, not unlike the dark space under the stairs, there is the damp smell of wet wood, dead wood. There is the cloth underneath his fingers, and his grip on the bag tightens, not unlike the way a child’s hands gripped a flimsy powder-blue blanket.
(The rain isn’t how it once was, magical and far-away. The rain is outside, and when he lifts his face, it falls down on him, cold and painful on pale skin. In the distance, he can hear the thunder and see the lightening, sounding like the ominous foretelling of a fairy tale. The rain sounds like rhythmic war drums.) The weather report said it would be clear and cool. The weather must have been tampered with, he duly notes. It will rain down on him when he sets his foot outside, and maybe it was inevitable, maybe fate truly exists. It feels like the end of some moral-teaching folk tale, when it ended with the armies of goblins and elves streteched out on the war-ridden lands, with the heavy rain falling on their forgotten bodies. But this is reality, and he doesn’t know if this sort of tale serves any such purpose at all.
Harry lifts up the pack and walks out the doorm, as it is time to face the rain.
Fandom:Harry Potter
Author:deviatesellen
Character/relationship:Harry Potter
Theme number:#1~Bad Weather
Disclaimer/claimer:I don’t own Harry Potter and am not making any profit at all from fanfiction.
Summary:Harry faces his rain.
It is bad weather outside of #4 Privet Drive. Harry snaps together the clasp of his worn, old backpack and the faint snap it makes jolts him out of his daze with a type of finality, a type of solemnity. Ron and Hermione will be there in ten minutes, and from then on…
(He has always loved the pitter-patter comfort of the rain. He can remember being small, weak, and only the dark, the woody smell of the cuboard under the stairs and the distant sound of rain were the only things that were in his own world with him.) The rain drums against his window, and he reaches out a hand. When he takes it away from the glass, an outline of it allows him to see the road and two heads under a their black hoods, protecting them from the rain. Brown and red, visible against the wet black of the asphalt. And, even now, trapped again, not unlike the dark space under the stairs, there is the damp smell of wet wood, dead wood. There is the cloth underneath his fingers, and his grip on the bag tightens, not unlike the way a child’s hands gripped a flimsy powder-blue blanket.
(The rain isn’t how it once was, magical and far-away. The rain is outside, and when he lifts his face, it falls down on him, cold and painful on pale skin. In the distance, he can hear the thunder and see the lightening, sounding like the ominous foretelling of a fairy tale. The rain sounds like rhythmic war drums.) The weather report said it would be clear and cool. The weather must have been tampered with, he duly notes. It will rain down on him when he sets his foot outside, and maybe it was inevitable, maybe fate truly exists. It feels like the end of some moral-teaching folk tale, when it ended with the armies of goblins and elves streteched out on the war-ridden lands, with the heavy rain falling on their forgotten bodies. But this is reality, and he doesn’t know if this sort of tale serves any such purpose at all.
Harry lifts up the pack and walks out the doorm, as it is time to face the rain.