(no subject)
Very quick entry, as I am writing this in the room that does not contain the air conditioner and it's storming to boot, which means my lights are flickering.
Crazy Landlord came by today and said, "I was thinking about taking over the spare bedroom to use as my office on Sundays." I talked her out of it. She's still looking for someone to fill the second bedroom. She wanted to move in this married couple, but then she went on about, "Oh, I'd have to restrict them to their room, because you know, you've got the smaller bedroom and so you get the living room." WTF.
The light bulb in the living room lamp burned out because the stupid wiring in this house is really weak and surges in and out every time water falls out of the sky, so I went to where the replacement lightbulbs are were, and found that Jay had taken them. Fuck on toast...if I could make toast. I moved the big lamp from my bedroom to the living room so I could update.
But in happier news...
I finished mattador's birthday fic. I know it's about two months overdue, but...
Disclaimer: Characters, places, etc. belong to J.K. Rowling and her large corporations. As usual, I'm not making any money.
Author's note: Takes place after the final feast at the end of GoF.
Unnecessary Words
For a while after she came to sit next to him in the empty stands, they sat in the same position, chin in hands, elbows on knees, and said nothing. He caught sideways glances at her, at the steady in-and-out motion of the curve of her upper back as she breathed, watching the empty maze of hedges that were threatening to become a kudzu.
She spoke first. "I'm sorry, you know."
He looked up and to his left at her, surprised but not shocked at her words. "You mean about..."
"About Potter. And Cedric Diggory. It's...I think it's just awful. I just feel kind of numb, you know, like what happened is just too crazy to be real."
"And you've certainly been sympathetic towards Harry." Those words, sarcastic and biting, were not supposed to come out that way. She wouldn't have spoken to him if she weren't sincere, not in that tone of voice.
"Oh right, like I could get away with saying, 'Wait, stop, I feel really sorry for Potter and we should lay off him' to the entirety of Slytherin House. You've seen what they're like."
"It's good to know you're such a strong, upstanding citizen, Parkinson."
"Shut it, Weasley. You haven't got a clue."
He didn't. That was one of the things that frustrated Ron most, the way Harry was so quiet. It killed him to see his best friend shut inside his own mind, neither screaming nor whispering, neither confirming nor denying anything he felt. They would play chess, but still Harry wouldn't talk. It didn't surprise Ron, but it did upset him. Harry had become another member of his family over the past four years, and though he would never tell Harry outright, he would do anything for him. There were times, especially when he watched Harry sit on his bed and stare blankly out the window, when he felt like taking his wand and going after Voldemort himself.
"Mazes are easy to get out of, you know."
"Excuse me?" Ron looked up again, wondering what kind of karmic debt he was paying off in having an almost civil conversation with Pansy Parkinson.
"My mother taught me this trick. You put one of your hands on the wall and follow it. Even when you come to what looks like a dead end, you just keep following the wall, and eventually you'll come to the end. Sometimes it takes a little longer, but it always works. You always get out."
"Why are you telling me this?"
She shrugged. "Just a thought I had, looking out at the maze. I know it probably wouldn't have saved Diggory-"
"-Or Harry..."
"...but, I don't know, maybe..."
"Maybe what? Maybe only Harry would have died and you could go on mooning over Diggory with the rest of the school? Maybe only one of them would have ended up in that graveyard?"
"Is that where they went?"
"Why are we even talking about this? You don't care about either of them."
"Weasley, you are an idiot, you know that?"
Ron turned to face her. "And you don't know anything, you know that?" He shouted, but his voice dissipated in the empty yards. "You don't know what it's like having to watch your best friend just...just sit there, doing nothing, acting like...I don't know what he's acting like, but it's not anything good! He won't talk to me or Hermione or anyone!"
"Well, it's not doing you any good to yell at me."
"And it's not doing me any good to watch you and the rest of the Slytherins act like a bunch of trolls when you know nothing! You and Malfoy and all of them…you all act like it's some big joke, that Harry watched Diggory die and saw Voldemort come back and had to fight him and all kinds of things that you're never going to have to deal with because you lead this perfect pampered life!"
"Are you done?"
He drew another breath, but the look in her eyes stopped him. Pansy Parkinson of all people was letting him work out the rage he'd been hiding for a week in favor of trying to be there for Harry. Ron wasn't used to this. Usually Harry or Hermione stopped him before he could hex anyone or call them all the names he wanted. He felt drained of his anger for the time being, and he nodded in response to her question.
"I believe you, by the way," she told him.
"About?"
"About what Potter saw."
"Really?"
She shrugged. "Potter's a spotlight hog, but I don't think he's creative enough to make all that up about You-Know-Who and Diggory."
"Harry is not a spotlight hog!"
"Weasley..."
Ron knew when not to fight back. "Never mind."
He turned back to face the overgrown maze, his thoughts as confused as the path to the center. Together, he and Pansy sat both inches and worlds apart. The sunset behind them warmed their backs and lengthened their shadows, but neither said a word. In the darkness Pansy moved closer to Ron, and he didn't move away. When she reached for his hand, he didn't object.
Off to go do that thing for that magazine and the SSFF stuff.
Crazy Landlord came by today and said, "I was thinking about taking over the spare bedroom to use as my office on Sundays." I talked her out of it. She's still looking for someone to fill the second bedroom. She wanted to move in this married couple, but then she went on about, "Oh, I'd have to restrict them to their room, because you know, you've got the smaller bedroom and so you get the living room." WTF.
The light bulb in the living room lamp burned out because the stupid wiring in this house is really weak and surges in and out every time water falls out of the sky, so I went to where the replacement lightbulbs are were, and found that Jay had taken them. Fuck on toast...if I could make toast. I moved the big lamp from my bedroom to the living room so I could update.
But in happier news...
I finished mattador's birthday fic. I know it's about two months overdue, but...
Disclaimer: Characters, places, etc. belong to J.K. Rowling and her large corporations. As usual, I'm not making any money.
Author's note: Takes place after the final feast at the end of GoF.
Unnecessary Words
For a while after she came to sit next to him in the empty stands, they sat in the same position, chin in hands, elbows on knees, and said nothing. He caught sideways glances at her, at the steady in-and-out motion of the curve of her upper back as she breathed, watching the empty maze of hedges that were threatening to become a kudzu.
She spoke first. "I'm sorry, you know."
He looked up and to his left at her, surprised but not shocked at her words. "You mean about..."
"About Potter. And Cedric Diggory. It's...I think it's just awful. I just feel kind of numb, you know, like what happened is just too crazy to be real."
"And you've certainly been sympathetic towards Harry." Those words, sarcastic and biting, were not supposed to come out that way. She wouldn't have spoken to him if she weren't sincere, not in that tone of voice.
"Oh right, like I could get away with saying, 'Wait, stop, I feel really sorry for Potter and we should lay off him' to the entirety of Slytherin House. You've seen what they're like."
"It's good to know you're such a strong, upstanding citizen, Parkinson."
"Shut it, Weasley. You haven't got a clue."
He didn't. That was one of the things that frustrated Ron most, the way Harry was so quiet. It killed him to see his best friend shut inside his own mind, neither screaming nor whispering, neither confirming nor denying anything he felt. They would play chess, but still Harry wouldn't talk. It didn't surprise Ron, but it did upset him. Harry had become another member of his family over the past four years, and though he would never tell Harry outright, he would do anything for him. There were times, especially when he watched Harry sit on his bed and stare blankly out the window, when he felt like taking his wand and going after Voldemort himself.
"Mazes are easy to get out of, you know."
"Excuse me?" Ron looked up again, wondering what kind of karmic debt he was paying off in having an almost civil conversation with Pansy Parkinson.
"My mother taught me this trick. You put one of your hands on the wall and follow it. Even when you come to what looks like a dead end, you just keep following the wall, and eventually you'll come to the end. Sometimes it takes a little longer, but it always works. You always get out."
"Why are you telling me this?"
She shrugged. "Just a thought I had, looking out at the maze. I know it probably wouldn't have saved Diggory-"
"-Or Harry..."
"...but, I don't know, maybe..."
"Maybe what? Maybe only Harry would have died and you could go on mooning over Diggory with the rest of the school? Maybe only one of them would have ended up in that graveyard?"
"Is that where they went?"
"Why are we even talking about this? You don't care about either of them."
"Weasley, you are an idiot, you know that?"
Ron turned to face her. "And you don't know anything, you know that?" He shouted, but his voice dissipated in the empty yards. "You don't know what it's like having to watch your best friend just...just sit there, doing nothing, acting like...I don't know what he's acting like, but it's not anything good! He won't talk to me or Hermione or anyone!"
"Well, it's not doing you any good to yell at me."
"And it's not doing me any good to watch you and the rest of the Slytherins act like a bunch of trolls when you know nothing! You and Malfoy and all of them…you all act like it's some big joke, that Harry watched Diggory die and saw Voldemort come back and had to fight him and all kinds of things that you're never going to have to deal with because you lead this perfect pampered life!"
"Are you done?"
He drew another breath, but the look in her eyes stopped him. Pansy Parkinson of all people was letting him work out the rage he'd been hiding for a week in favor of trying to be there for Harry. Ron wasn't used to this. Usually Harry or Hermione stopped him before he could hex anyone or call them all the names he wanted. He felt drained of his anger for the time being, and he nodded in response to her question.
"I believe you, by the way," she told him.
"About?"
"About what Potter saw."
"Really?"
She shrugged. "Potter's a spotlight hog, but I don't think he's creative enough to make all that up about You-Know-Who and Diggory."
"Harry is not a spotlight hog!"
"Weasley..."
Ron knew when not to fight back. "Never mind."
He turned back to face the overgrown maze, his thoughts as confused as the path to the center. Together, he and Pansy sat both inches and worlds apart. The sunset behind them warmed their backs and lengthened their shadows, but neither said a word. In the darkness Pansy moved closer to Ron, and he didn't move away. When she reached for his hand, he didn't object.
Off to go do that thing for that magazine and the SSFF stuff.