fic: harry potter, michael/terry, pg-13.
More birthday ficlets, this one's for kenboy.
unique like a
harry potter, michael corner/terry boot, pg-13, semi-spoilers for all books including DH. Prompt words; snow, quiet. Word count: 857. My characterizations may or may not be based on a certain RPG. I don't own the characters or Harry Potter.
Michael reached out his hand and the snow melted on it. If he touched it, it went away. Maybe it was that it was his first winter with snow since he could remember but something made him feel oddly wistful.
“Stupid,” Terry said. He was wearing mittens and could hold as much snow as he liked in his hands.
“What's stupid?” Michael asked.
“You are. The snow doesn't go away, it just melts. It transforms into water, changes form. I can't believe you didn't know that.”
Michael did know that but he was 11 and had a tendency to get poetic. Terry had just turned 12 and always, always said it how it is.
*
Michael was quiet during Potions in their third year.
“You like her,” Terry said.
“Who?”
“That blond Hufflepuff girl that sits before us in Potions.”
“Please,” Michael said. “A Hufflepuff?”
“Could be worse,” Terry shrugged. They laughed together, and the next time in Potions, Michael paid more attention to Terry and less attention to the back of the blond Hufflepuff's head.
*
“Fucking Yule Ball,” Terry said, and Michael agreed silently.
“You're just bitter because you got the left-overs. I hear some Gryffindor girls are available, go ask them,” somebody told them.
“We don't care,” Terry said and Michael wondered if he cared but out loud he agreed with Terry.
Like at the History of Magic exam, Terry tended to know best.
*
“You're going with her again?” Terry asked him.
“Yeah, Ginny asked me out for a walk.” Michael shrugged. This was dating, he guessed.
“All right,” Terry said, and looked like he was going to say something else, but then he didn't.
Michael went out and kissed Ginny, even if Ginny didn't seem completely happy about it. Michael kept thinking if for once, Terry wasn't telling him how he felt about all this. Terry hadn't had a girlfriend since fourth year.
“You're so quiet nowadays,” Ginny said. “We don't even argue about Quidditch anymore.”
“Sorry,” Michael said, forced a smile. “Want to get inside? It's getting kind of cold here.”
When he returned to the dormitories, Terry was leaving.
“It's snowing,” Terry said and that's it all it took.
“I'll come with you,” Michael replied.
*
Sixth year meant worry, uncertainty. Sometimes Michael thought he could feel the darkened atmosphere in each of his steps.
“Stop being so melodramatic,” Terry told him. “Whatever comes, comes.”
Michael decided if he was to fight, he'd do it alongside Terry.
If they were to die, he would -
“You've got to stop thinking about this,” Terry told him. “There isn't a war until you create one in your head.”
For once he knew how wrong Terry was but then, Terry must've known it, too.
*
Seventh year, they focused on keeping their heads down. Terry read books on Muggle history, of oppression, until he was banned from doing so, and then he just retold the stories he had read.
“Don't call them 'stories',” Terry told him. “It's not like they're some myths or fairy tales. These things actually happened.”
Terry seemed to snap at him about everything and anything these days. Michael became quiet, reclusive, hardly noticed anything or anybody.
Just before Christmas holidays, Terry pulled him into a hug.
“Don't let it all tear us apart,” Terry said. “Idiot.”
Terry was the idiot, Michael thought. For even thinking it would.
*
After school there was everything. Or nothing, depending on how one looked at it. Michael found work even more monotonous than school at times, and he tried to keep things fresh, switch whenever possible. Terry worked at the same thing for months, years. Michael rather admired that.
Terry even stuck to the same girlfriend. “She's so convenient,” he explained and Michael laughed. Forever the romantic.
Michael didn't settle down. Terry's girlfriend broke up with him on Muggle Valentine's.
“We're smart,” Terry said. “Why can't we seem to get it right?”
“Maybe because we're not meant to,” Michael replied, rubbing his cheek because of the slap he had just received from a girl at the pub.
Terry put his Butterbeer pint against Michael's cheek.
“Maybe you're right.”
Michael grinned. “I need a place to stay, you know.”
“Then again, you usually are wrong.” Terry put his pint down, pausing. “Fuck it, fine.”
*
“Let's Floo over,” Terry said, when they were finally leaving, Michael's eyes not focusing properly.
“I don't think I'm fit to Floo,” he said.
“We have to Floo, it's snowing.”
Michael grabbed Terry's shoulder for support. “Let's walk.”
They walked, and Michael held Terry's hand, and with his other one, caught snowflakes but they always missed his palm and he ended up with water.
*
A week later, Michael finishes unpacking all his crap into Terry's already cramped apartment, magically expanded book shelves full of knowledge and rarities.
Terry pulls him closer, suddenly, kissing him, and there's a lot of clichéd things for Michael to be thinking about, then.
One is a metaphor; them as snow, melting into water. It's still snow, or maybe it was always water, it just changes form.
He could tell this to Terry but he's not that stupid.
Not anymore.
unique like a
harry potter, michael corner/terry boot, pg-13, semi-spoilers for all books including DH. Prompt words; snow, quiet. Word count: 857. My characterizations may or may not be based on a certain RPG. I don't own the characters or Harry Potter.
Michael reached out his hand and the snow melted on it. If he touched it, it went away. Maybe it was that it was his first winter with snow since he could remember but something made him feel oddly wistful.
“Stupid,” Terry said. He was wearing mittens and could hold as much snow as he liked in his hands.
“What's stupid?” Michael asked.
“You are. The snow doesn't go away, it just melts. It transforms into water, changes form. I can't believe you didn't know that.”
Michael did know that but he was 11 and had a tendency to get poetic. Terry had just turned 12 and always, always said it how it is.
*
Michael was quiet during Potions in their third year.
“You like her,” Terry said.
“Who?”
“That blond Hufflepuff girl that sits before us in Potions.”
“Please,” Michael said. “A Hufflepuff?”
“Could be worse,” Terry shrugged. They laughed together, and the next time in Potions, Michael paid more attention to Terry and less attention to the back of the blond Hufflepuff's head.
*
“Fucking Yule Ball,” Terry said, and Michael agreed silently.
“You're just bitter because you got the left-overs. I hear some Gryffindor girls are available, go ask them,” somebody told them.
“We don't care,” Terry said and Michael wondered if he cared but out loud he agreed with Terry.
Like at the History of Magic exam, Terry tended to know best.
*
“You're going with her again?” Terry asked him.
“Yeah, Ginny asked me out for a walk.” Michael shrugged. This was dating, he guessed.
“All right,” Terry said, and looked like he was going to say something else, but then he didn't.
Michael went out and kissed Ginny, even if Ginny didn't seem completely happy about it. Michael kept thinking if for once, Terry wasn't telling him how he felt about all this. Terry hadn't had a girlfriend since fourth year.
“You're so quiet nowadays,” Ginny said. “We don't even argue about Quidditch anymore.”
“Sorry,” Michael said, forced a smile. “Want to get inside? It's getting kind of cold here.”
When he returned to the dormitories, Terry was leaving.
“It's snowing,” Terry said and that's it all it took.
“I'll come with you,” Michael replied.
*
Sixth year meant worry, uncertainty. Sometimes Michael thought he could feel the darkened atmosphere in each of his steps.
“Stop being so melodramatic,” Terry told him. “Whatever comes, comes.”
Michael decided if he was to fight, he'd do it alongside Terry.
If they were to die, he would -
“You've got to stop thinking about this,” Terry told him. “There isn't a war until you create one in your head.”
For once he knew how wrong Terry was but then, Terry must've known it, too.
*
Seventh year, they focused on keeping their heads down. Terry read books on Muggle history, of oppression, until he was banned from doing so, and then he just retold the stories he had read.
“Don't call them 'stories',” Terry told him. “It's not like they're some myths or fairy tales. These things actually happened.”
Terry seemed to snap at him about everything and anything these days. Michael became quiet, reclusive, hardly noticed anything or anybody.
Just before Christmas holidays, Terry pulled him into a hug.
“Don't let it all tear us apart,” Terry said. “Idiot.”
Terry was the idiot, Michael thought. For even thinking it would.
*
After school there was everything. Or nothing, depending on how one looked at it. Michael found work even more monotonous than school at times, and he tried to keep things fresh, switch whenever possible. Terry worked at the same thing for months, years. Michael rather admired that.
Terry even stuck to the same girlfriend. “She's so convenient,” he explained and Michael laughed. Forever the romantic.
Michael didn't settle down. Terry's girlfriend broke up with him on Muggle Valentine's.
“We're smart,” Terry said. “Why can't we seem to get it right?”
“Maybe because we're not meant to,” Michael replied, rubbing his cheek because of the slap he had just received from a girl at the pub.
Terry put his Butterbeer pint against Michael's cheek.
“Maybe you're right.”
Michael grinned. “I need a place to stay, you know.”
“Then again, you usually are wrong.” Terry put his pint down, pausing. “Fuck it, fine.”
*
“Let's Floo over,” Terry said, when they were finally leaving, Michael's eyes not focusing properly.
“I don't think I'm fit to Floo,” he said.
“We have to Floo, it's snowing.”
Michael grabbed Terry's shoulder for support. “Let's walk.”
They walked, and Michael held Terry's hand, and with his other one, caught snowflakes but they always missed his palm and he ended up with water.
*
A week later, Michael finishes unpacking all his crap into Terry's already cramped apartment, magically expanded book shelves full of knowledge and rarities.
Terry pulls him closer, suddenly, kissing him, and there's a lot of clichéd things for Michael to be thinking about, then.
One is a metaphor; them as snow, melting into water. It's still snow, or maybe it was always water, it just changes form.
He could tell this to Terry but he's not that stupid.
Not anymore.