Deathly Hallows Redux
Re-Reading Harry Potter before the premiere! I'm buying my tickets for the midnight show this weekend. :3 But rereading the book makes me want to write fanfiction again. So I think as I read I'm going to jot down these little "missing moments", I'll call them. Here are three to start you off with. They're all pretty short.
Also, anyone know of a good website where I could order a hufflepuff scarf? lol
1.
"Think Ro-think he's okay?" Charlie asked as he took a seat with Bill on the back porch. Bill had heard the muttered Muffliato moments ago and had already scooted over to leave room for Charlie to sit. Charlie proffered a couple Firewhiskies almost immediately.
"He's in good company," Bill replied, thinking about Ron, and about Harry and Hermione, and wondering where in the world they were now, wondering where they were going. None of the Weasleys dared say Harry's name out loud the last few days, especially not with the Ministry practically knocking down their back door every few hours, but it was implicit.
"Some wedding, huh?" Charlie murmured, and the brothers clinked drinks wearily. "How's Fleur?"
Bill chuckled. "Infuriated, really, but not about the wedding." He rubbed the back of his neck before leaning back on his elbows to look at the sky.
Charlie did the same, crossing his feet at the ankle.
"Kinda wish we'd gotten to see him more growing up, you know?" Bill mused.
"Yeah," Charlie echoed, "Instead we got stuck with each other." He knocked Bill with his shoulder.
"And the Torturous Twosome."
They shared a short laugh but lapsed soon into silence.
"Anyway, we'll see him again soon," Bill determined.
Charlie didn't say anything.
They clinked glasses again, silently, in a solemn sort of good luck cheers for Ron. Charlie couldn't shake the image of a nine year old Ron running around the house in mismatched socks, whining about how Ginny had done this or that, knocking things over and crying over paper-cuts. Thinking of that Ron out in the world somewhere, going toe-to-toe with You Know Who sent Charlie's stomach flopping.
2.
Ron was almost asleep when he heard Hemione's muffled voice ask, "are you still awake?" from her sleeping bag nearby.
He grunted something that was supposed to be a "yeah" and rolled to face her. Harry gave a sleepy snort down by his ankles. "What's wrong?" Ron managed.
Hermione was silent, but Ron could hear the gears turning in her head. He imagined their thoughts probably weren't very far apart. It was weird being back in Grimmauld Place like this, it was scary knowing their families were out there somewhere without them, and it was both exciting and terrifying knowing what they'd set out to do.
"Nevermind," Hermione muttered, and started to roll away.
"-'Mione?" Ron asked hurriedly, and she stopped to face him. He could just make out the lines of her face in the light that filtered in through the dusty window. "Me too," he whispered. I'm scared too. I'm worried too. I'm unsure too.
He reached out towards her. He did it before thinking like he so often did, and when the idea of how foolish he was being finally got to him his hand was already almost on top of hers. He blushed beet red to his ears and began to retract his hand when he felt her fingers slide in between his own. Hermione scooted imperceptibly toward him, making it look natural and easy in a way he never could. So he tightened his grip and hid his blush under the fringe of his own sleeping bag.
They fell asleep like that, holding hands in the moonlight on the grimy carpet in the eerily abandoned Grimmauld Place to the soft but somehow soothing sounds of Harry's snores.
3.
"Damn it!" Remus roared as soon as his feet hit solid ground. He alternated between clenching his teeth and his fists, the only reassuring thing the solid wand in his right hand. He aimed it at a tree and blasted away, blind to what he was doing but reveling in the charred blast holes he left behind.
"No right-" he muttered, lighting a bush on fire, "-no goddamn right-" He threw his wand at a nearby tree. It bounced violently away and landed suspended halfway through a plant. "-who does he think-how can he think-" Remus sputtered out, stopping to lean his hand and head against a lucky tree that hadn't been in his way. His breath came hard. The moment of peace brought with it remorse instead of anger and he felt the fury sliding slowing out of his veins.
"Damn it," he cursed more softly. He righted himself and adjusted the crooked collar of his cloak. The forest's silence was interrupted only by the soft crackling of the bush he'd lit nearby. He patted his pockets for his wand before he remembered he'd tossed it.
Once he recovered it and set out the fire he collapsed backwards into the forest floor, sprawled across his stiff old back to stare blankly at the foliage above. He was still angry with Harry, but the little sensible voice in the back of his head was saying, He's right. This is the Remus that's the real monster. And no matter how many trees he blasted, he couldn't shut that voice up.
Also, anyone know of a good website where I could order a hufflepuff scarf? lol
1.
"Think Ro-think he's okay?" Charlie asked as he took a seat with Bill on the back porch. Bill had heard the muttered Muffliato moments ago and had already scooted over to leave room for Charlie to sit. Charlie proffered a couple Firewhiskies almost immediately.
"He's in good company," Bill replied, thinking about Ron, and about Harry and Hermione, and wondering where in the world they were now, wondering where they were going. None of the Weasleys dared say Harry's name out loud the last few days, especially not with the Ministry practically knocking down their back door every few hours, but it was implicit.
"Some wedding, huh?" Charlie murmured, and the brothers clinked drinks wearily. "How's Fleur?"
Bill chuckled. "Infuriated, really, but not about the wedding." He rubbed the back of his neck before leaning back on his elbows to look at the sky.
Charlie did the same, crossing his feet at the ankle.
"Kinda wish we'd gotten to see him more growing up, you know?" Bill mused.
"Yeah," Charlie echoed, "Instead we got stuck with each other." He knocked Bill with his shoulder.
"And the Torturous Twosome."
They shared a short laugh but lapsed soon into silence.
"Anyway, we'll see him again soon," Bill determined.
Charlie didn't say anything.
They clinked glasses again, silently, in a solemn sort of good luck cheers for Ron. Charlie couldn't shake the image of a nine year old Ron running around the house in mismatched socks, whining about how Ginny had done this or that, knocking things over and crying over paper-cuts. Thinking of that Ron out in the world somewhere, going toe-to-toe with You Know Who sent Charlie's stomach flopping.
2.
Ron was almost asleep when he heard Hemione's muffled voice ask, "are you still awake?" from her sleeping bag nearby.
He grunted something that was supposed to be a "yeah" and rolled to face her. Harry gave a sleepy snort down by his ankles. "What's wrong?" Ron managed.
Hermione was silent, but Ron could hear the gears turning in her head. He imagined their thoughts probably weren't very far apart. It was weird being back in Grimmauld Place like this, it was scary knowing their families were out there somewhere without them, and it was both exciting and terrifying knowing what they'd set out to do.
"Nevermind," Hermione muttered, and started to roll away.
"-'Mione?" Ron asked hurriedly, and she stopped to face him. He could just make out the lines of her face in the light that filtered in through the dusty window. "Me too," he whispered. I'm scared too. I'm worried too. I'm unsure too.
He reached out towards her. He did it before thinking like he so often did, and when the idea of how foolish he was being finally got to him his hand was already almost on top of hers. He blushed beet red to his ears and began to retract his hand when he felt her fingers slide in between his own. Hermione scooted imperceptibly toward him, making it look natural and easy in a way he never could. So he tightened his grip and hid his blush under the fringe of his own sleeping bag.
They fell asleep like that, holding hands in the moonlight on the grimy carpet in the eerily abandoned Grimmauld Place to the soft but somehow soothing sounds of Harry's snores.
3.
"Damn it!" Remus roared as soon as his feet hit solid ground. He alternated between clenching his teeth and his fists, the only reassuring thing the solid wand in his right hand. He aimed it at a tree and blasted away, blind to what he was doing but reveling in the charred blast holes he left behind.
"No right-" he muttered, lighting a bush on fire, "-no goddamn right-" He threw his wand at a nearby tree. It bounced violently away and landed suspended halfway through a plant. "-who does he think-how can he think-" Remus sputtered out, stopping to lean his hand and head against a lucky tree that hadn't been in his way. His breath came hard. The moment of peace brought with it remorse instead of anger and he felt the fury sliding slowing out of his veins.
"Damn it," he cursed more softly. He righted himself and adjusted the crooked collar of his cloak. The forest's silence was interrupted only by the soft crackling of the bush he'd lit nearby. He patted his pockets for his wand before he remembered he'd tossed it.
Once he recovered it and set out the fire he collapsed backwards into the forest floor, sprawled across his stiff old back to stare blankly at the foliage above. He was still angry with Harry, but the little sensible voice in the back of his head was saying, He's right. This is the Remus that's the real monster. And no matter how many trees he blasted, he couldn't shut that voice up.