Fics (2): Ficlet Challenge #108 and No Challenge
Title: Returning
Summary: Remus Lupin has recently returned to Hogwarts, and in that timeless place, he finds the past is much too close to the present.
Characters/Pairings: Remus Lupin, briefly Pomona Sprout, Colin Creevey, and Harry Potter
Genre: Angst schmangst
Rating/Warnings: PG, brief description of violent "death"
Medium: Fic
Word Count: 503
Can the Order post to Tumblr?: Sure
If yes, your Tumblr username: N/A
Challenge: Ficlet #108 First week of school
Lupin managed to drag himself out of bed sometime before seven. He would always need more sleep-he would always be tired, so tired, so he figured he might as well be productive. But first, breakfast.
The honeyed porridge warmed him, but not so fiercely as the youthful voices ringing through the Great Hall. His tired eyes focused on the Gryffindors, and he smiled to see a cluster of students hamming for a camera. The boy with the camera was tiny, but he moved along the table the cheerful ease of a returning student.
“That’s Colin Creevey,” muttered a deep matronly voice in Lupin’s ear, “the boy with the camera. I’m happy to see he’s recovered from his ordeal. Poor lad.”
Lupin turned to give Pomona Sprout a curious look.
“His ordeal?”
“Petrified,” Sprout explained with a light shudder. “He encountered the basilisk last year. Surely you’ve heard-“
“Quite enough about the basilisk, thank you,” Lupin said with a quiet smile. “So I assume Colin Creevey won’t be in my first year class?”
“Oh no,” Sprout said, pausing to take a bite of muffin. “Second year. He’s a delightful student-very eager.”
“Ah.” Lupin nodded, and a knowing smile tugged at his lips. Very eager but perhaps without a head for schoolwork, he silently finished.
A surge of nostalgia splashed over him. He remembered the face of another boy, a boy who’d been young many years ago, who’d been scarcely taller than Colin Creevey. Perhaps shorter, even. Peter Pettigrew could have passed for a first year even at sixteen, and this and that shameless grin of his served to shield him from blame-until the school staff caught onto the ruse. No one who ran around with Black and Potter could seem innocent for long.
Lupin closed his eyes. The warmth of memory fled and the cold returned. Disbelief lingered after all these years. Black had killed Pettigrew, blasted him into dust and ripped-off limbs.
His tired eyes blinked open. He watched Colin Creevey bound over to Harry Potter, the former beaming and the latter forcing a smile. Lupin gave his head a little shake. The scene was right but the details were wrong-the smaller boy was thin and brimming with confidence, and this Potter wasn’t overly fond of attention. Lupin’s gaze lingered on Harry Potter for a second more, and again the warmth and cold of memory flooded his heart.
The dead are dead, Lupin reminded himself as he forcibly looked away. The past was finished, and yet, despite all reason, Lupin had never quite believed it was over. Hogwarts was too unchanged, Harry looked too much like James, and Sirius Black-
…escaped, Lupin finished silently.
He placed his folded serviette upon the table and stood, nodding good day at Professor Sprout before leaving the staff table. The chatter of students in the Hall and corridors crowded out his unpleasant thoughts. The first week of school was invigorating, and even Lupin, sick and fatigued and glued to the past, felt a momentary stir. He was returning to the world of the living from which he had slipped away.
Title: For Now
Summary: Hermione decides she wants a divorce.
Characters/Pairings: Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom, Terry Boot, Hermione/Terry
Rating/Warnings: G, poor Ronald?
Medium: Fic
Word Count: 1050
Can the Order post to Tumblr?: Sure
If yes, your Tumblr username: N/A
Notes: I wrote this very quickly for a comment fic fest.
"Thank you for meeting with me, Neville," Hermione said raggedly. She lifted a soil-stained glove from the seat before sitting.
"Oh, dear, my apologies," Neville blustered, reaching for the glove. He shoved it inside a desk drawer unceremoniously. "They offered me an office in the castle, you know." He chuckled.
Hermione took her seat and smiled. She looked exhausted. Wayward frizz stuck out from her hastily made hair bun, and delicate lines creased the corners of her eyes. Some of their old classmates had grown pudgy as they approached middle age, but Hermione had grown thin, almost too thin-overworked, Neville thought. If it had been anyone else, he might have added unhappy.
"Hugo's told me he won't qualify to continue Defence Against the Dark Arts on the N.E.W.T. level," Hermione began abruptly. Perhaps she hadn't heard Neville's comment, or maybe she had already forgotten. Her brown eyes were tired. "Or Transfiguration, or Potions, or even Charms!"
Neville nodded sadly. "Hugo's welcome to continue with Herbology, if he chooses. He's a fun student," Neville said with a smile. That was a polite way of saying he was a troublemaker, and both he and Hermione knew it. "And I'm sure he wants to continue with Care of Magical Creatures."
Hermione shook her head. "He doesn't want to study anything. He wants to leave school and join his uncle and father in George's business. And Ron's given up trying to convince him otherwise, which puts me in an impossible situation for a parent-" She sighed. "I'm sorry, Neville. I shouldn't be saying this to you."
Neville bit his lip, frowning, saying nothing for some time.
"Um," he began. "Have you talked to Terry about Hugo's Defence scores?"
Hermione blinked, and her eyes sharpened with curiosity. For a second she looked just like the old Hermione.
"Terry?"
"Terry Boot," Neville continued. "He's teaching Defence of Against the Dark Arts. He's also just become Head of Ravenclaw, now that Flitwick's retired."
Hermione shook her head. "I haven't seen Terry in years."
"He's become a bit of a recluse, by his own admission," Neville laughed. "Become more comfortable around books than he is around people. But I know he remembers you fondly, and he might be willing to make an exception for your son. In fact," Neville said brightly, checking his wristwatch, "Terry's supposed to be stopping by any minute now, which is why I thought of him. I promised him an African succulent."
"Oh?" Hermione asked, faintly amused. "I'd love to stay and speak to him, if you don't mind."
"Not at all," Neville assured her. "Can I fetch you a cup of tea?"
"No thank you," Hermione said. "It never helps anymore. I'm always tired. Motherhood, you know." She tried to give him a knowing smile.
Neville certainly didn't know anything about motherhood. He frowned, knowing he should just leave it be, but as a friend, he had to ask.
"Is everything okay, Hermione?"
She buried her face in her hands, the tips of her thin fingers pressing into her forehead. "Oh, I look terrible, don't I?"
"No," Neville told her, reaching to pull away a hand. Hermione let it go, giving Neville's hand a light squeeze, and regarded him with a deep, intractable kind of sadness that nearly made his heart break.
"Work never stops," she began, her voice far away. "And neither does anything else. Ron's forgotten all cleaning charms, if he ever knew any. His mother always did everything for them, but she didn't work-that was different, but still, I should have seen, I should have known-" She closed her eyes and swallowed dryly. "And Hugo's so difficult, but Rose isn't difficult enough. I worry about them both. I know Ron does too, but he doesn't know what to do, and so he does nothing. And I get angry, and sometimes I wonder...well, sometimes I'm certain they all hate me."
Her eyes flickered open and she slowly pulled back her hand. Neville opened his mouth to say something, but Hermione cut him off.
"I apologize, Neville. I-I'm not myself."
thump
"Ow!"
Hermione turned in her seat, and Neville peered around her. The sounds had come to the entrance of the greenhouse, the one just off the entrance to Neville's office.
"Terry?" Neville called. "Is that you?"
A man stepped inside, rubbing his nose and holding out a gardening hoe by its long handle.
"Your tool decided it misliked my face," Terry muttered.
Neville laughed, and even Hermione gave a silent chuckle. Terry pulled a sorry expression before joining the laughter himself. He set the tool leaning near the doorway and gave them both a sheepish grin.
"Hullo, Hermione," he said. He appeared to take a steadying breath as he looked at her, an odd little smile playing about his lips. He seemed almost sad, but in a familiar way, an embarrassing forlornness that he'd felt a thousand times.
Terry Boot's brown hair was as thick as the day he came to Hogwarts, and he kept it parted neatly on one side. His blue robes were slightly rumpled as if he'd been sitting all day. He was round-shouldered and soft-looking, as if he sat all day on most days, but his brown eyes were lively, warm, and clever. He looked directly at Hermione, and she looked back until she finally realized she hadn't said hello.
"Terry," she breathed, laughter still in her voice. "Hello. You look well."
His cheeks turned pink. "Barely, I'm sure," he said with a little laugh. "There's the faculty heartthrob." He nodded to Neville, who burned crimson.
"I have your plant," Neville said with visible effort. He stood, rummaged around his desk, and produced an abnormally large plant that looked a bit like a split rock.
Terry's face brightened in an almost boyish way. "Oh, brilliant! These are fascinating plants, don't you know...."
Hermione bit her lips to hide a smile.
"Um, Terry," Neville said, clearing his throat. "I must be off, but Hermione here has a question for you about her son. Why don't you walk her back to castle?"
"Oh?" Terry asked. He glanced at Hermione and nodded. "I'd be happy to. I'd, ah, offer you my arm or something, but this isn't 1800, and you're a married woman besides...." He coughed suddenly and blushed again.
Hermione took a moment to answer, looking at Terry in a rather appraising manner. She smiled, and a bit of the old sparkle returned to her eyes.
"For now," she answered. "But nevertheless, I can walk beside you just fine."
22 + 35 = 57 points for Ravenclaw
Summary: Remus Lupin has recently returned to Hogwarts, and in that timeless place, he finds the past is much too close to the present.
Characters/Pairings: Remus Lupin, briefly Pomona Sprout, Colin Creevey, and Harry Potter
Genre: Angst schmangst
Rating/Warnings: PG, brief description of violent "death"
Medium: Fic
Word Count: 503
Can the Order post to Tumblr?: Sure
If yes, your Tumblr username: N/A
Challenge: Ficlet #108 First week of school
Lupin managed to drag himself out of bed sometime before seven. He would always need more sleep-he would always be tired, so tired, so he figured he might as well be productive. But first, breakfast.
The honeyed porridge warmed him, but not so fiercely as the youthful voices ringing through the Great Hall. His tired eyes focused on the Gryffindors, and he smiled to see a cluster of students hamming for a camera. The boy with the camera was tiny, but he moved along the table the cheerful ease of a returning student.
“That’s Colin Creevey,” muttered a deep matronly voice in Lupin’s ear, “the boy with the camera. I’m happy to see he’s recovered from his ordeal. Poor lad.”
Lupin turned to give Pomona Sprout a curious look.
“His ordeal?”
“Petrified,” Sprout explained with a light shudder. “He encountered the basilisk last year. Surely you’ve heard-“
“Quite enough about the basilisk, thank you,” Lupin said with a quiet smile. “So I assume Colin Creevey won’t be in my first year class?”
“Oh no,” Sprout said, pausing to take a bite of muffin. “Second year. He’s a delightful student-very eager.”
“Ah.” Lupin nodded, and a knowing smile tugged at his lips. Very eager but perhaps without a head for schoolwork, he silently finished.
A surge of nostalgia splashed over him. He remembered the face of another boy, a boy who’d been young many years ago, who’d been scarcely taller than Colin Creevey. Perhaps shorter, even. Peter Pettigrew could have passed for a first year even at sixteen, and this and that shameless grin of his served to shield him from blame-until the school staff caught onto the ruse. No one who ran around with Black and Potter could seem innocent for long.
Lupin closed his eyes. The warmth of memory fled and the cold returned. Disbelief lingered after all these years. Black had killed Pettigrew, blasted him into dust and ripped-off limbs.
His tired eyes blinked open. He watched Colin Creevey bound over to Harry Potter, the former beaming and the latter forcing a smile. Lupin gave his head a little shake. The scene was right but the details were wrong-the smaller boy was thin and brimming with confidence, and this Potter wasn’t overly fond of attention. Lupin’s gaze lingered on Harry Potter for a second more, and again the warmth and cold of memory flooded his heart.
The dead are dead, Lupin reminded himself as he forcibly looked away. The past was finished, and yet, despite all reason, Lupin had never quite believed it was over. Hogwarts was too unchanged, Harry looked too much like James, and Sirius Black-
…escaped, Lupin finished silently.
He placed his folded serviette upon the table and stood, nodding good day at Professor Sprout before leaving the staff table. The chatter of students in the Hall and corridors crowded out his unpleasant thoughts. The first week of school was invigorating, and even Lupin, sick and fatigued and glued to the past, felt a momentary stir. He was returning to the world of the living from which he had slipped away.
Title: For Now
Summary: Hermione decides she wants a divorce.
Characters/Pairings: Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom, Terry Boot, Hermione/Terry
Rating/Warnings: G, poor Ronald?
Medium: Fic
Word Count: 1050
Can the Order post to Tumblr?: Sure
If yes, your Tumblr username: N/A
Notes: I wrote this very quickly for a comment fic fest.
"Thank you for meeting with me, Neville," Hermione said raggedly. She lifted a soil-stained glove from the seat before sitting.
"Oh, dear, my apologies," Neville blustered, reaching for the glove. He shoved it inside a desk drawer unceremoniously. "They offered me an office in the castle, you know." He chuckled.
Hermione took her seat and smiled. She looked exhausted. Wayward frizz stuck out from her hastily made hair bun, and delicate lines creased the corners of her eyes. Some of their old classmates had grown pudgy as they approached middle age, but Hermione had grown thin, almost too thin-overworked, Neville thought. If it had been anyone else, he might have added unhappy.
"Hugo's told me he won't qualify to continue Defence Against the Dark Arts on the N.E.W.T. level," Hermione began abruptly. Perhaps she hadn't heard Neville's comment, or maybe she had already forgotten. Her brown eyes were tired. "Or Transfiguration, or Potions, or even Charms!"
Neville nodded sadly. "Hugo's welcome to continue with Herbology, if he chooses. He's a fun student," Neville said with a smile. That was a polite way of saying he was a troublemaker, and both he and Hermione knew it. "And I'm sure he wants to continue with Care of Magical Creatures."
Hermione shook her head. "He doesn't want to study anything. He wants to leave school and join his uncle and father in George's business. And Ron's given up trying to convince him otherwise, which puts me in an impossible situation for a parent-" She sighed. "I'm sorry, Neville. I shouldn't be saying this to you."
Neville bit his lip, frowning, saying nothing for some time.
"Um," he began. "Have you talked to Terry about Hugo's Defence scores?"
Hermione blinked, and her eyes sharpened with curiosity. For a second she looked just like the old Hermione.
"Terry?"
"Terry Boot," Neville continued. "He's teaching Defence of Against the Dark Arts. He's also just become Head of Ravenclaw, now that Flitwick's retired."
Hermione shook her head. "I haven't seen Terry in years."
"He's become a bit of a recluse, by his own admission," Neville laughed. "Become more comfortable around books than he is around people. But I know he remembers you fondly, and he might be willing to make an exception for your son. In fact," Neville said brightly, checking his wristwatch, "Terry's supposed to be stopping by any minute now, which is why I thought of him. I promised him an African succulent."
"Oh?" Hermione asked, faintly amused. "I'd love to stay and speak to him, if you don't mind."
"Not at all," Neville assured her. "Can I fetch you a cup of tea?"
"No thank you," Hermione said. "It never helps anymore. I'm always tired. Motherhood, you know." She tried to give him a knowing smile.
Neville certainly didn't know anything about motherhood. He frowned, knowing he should just leave it be, but as a friend, he had to ask.
"Is everything okay, Hermione?"
She buried her face in her hands, the tips of her thin fingers pressing into her forehead. "Oh, I look terrible, don't I?"
"No," Neville told her, reaching to pull away a hand. Hermione let it go, giving Neville's hand a light squeeze, and regarded him with a deep, intractable kind of sadness that nearly made his heart break.
"Work never stops," she began, her voice far away. "And neither does anything else. Ron's forgotten all cleaning charms, if he ever knew any. His mother always did everything for them, but she didn't work-that was different, but still, I should have seen, I should have known-" She closed her eyes and swallowed dryly. "And Hugo's so difficult, but Rose isn't difficult enough. I worry about them both. I know Ron does too, but he doesn't know what to do, and so he does nothing. And I get angry, and sometimes I wonder...well, sometimes I'm certain they all hate me."
Her eyes flickered open and she slowly pulled back her hand. Neville opened his mouth to say something, but Hermione cut him off.
"I apologize, Neville. I-I'm not myself."
thump
"Ow!"
Hermione turned in her seat, and Neville peered around her. The sounds had come to the entrance of the greenhouse, the one just off the entrance to Neville's office.
"Terry?" Neville called. "Is that you?"
A man stepped inside, rubbing his nose and holding out a gardening hoe by its long handle.
"Your tool decided it misliked my face," Terry muttered.
Neville laughed, and even Hermione gave a silent chuckle. Terry pulled a sorry expression before joining the laughter himself. He set the tool leaning near the doorway and gave them both a sheepish grin.
"Hullo, Hermione," he said. He appeared to take a steadying breath as he looked at her, an odd little smile playing about his lips. He seemed almost sad, but in a familiar way, an embarrassing forlornness that he'd felt a thousand times.
Terry Boot's brown hair was as thick as the day he came to Hogwarts, and he kept it parted neatly on one side. His blue robes were slightly rumpled as if he'd been sitting all day. He was round-shouldered and soft-looking, as if he sat all day on most days, but his brown eyes were lively, warm, and clever. He looked directly at Hermione, and she looked back until she finally realized she hadn't said hello.
"Terry," she breathed, laughter still in her voice. "Hello. You look well."
His cheeks turned pink. "Barely, I'm sure," he said with a little laugh. "There's the faculty heartthrob." He nodded to Neville, who burned crimson.
"I have your plant," Neville said with visible effort. He stood, rummaged around his desk, and produced an abnormally large plant that looked a bit like a split rock.
Terry's face brightened in an almost boyish way. "Oh, brilliant! These are fascinating plants, don't you know...."
Hermione bit her lips to hide a smile.
"Um, Terry," Neville said, clearing his throat. "I must be off, but Hermione here has a question for you about her son. Why don't you walk her back to castle?"
"Oh?" Terry asked. He glanced at Hermione and nodded. "I'd be happy to. I'd, ah, offer you my arm or something, but this isn't 1800, and you're a married woman besides...." He coughed suddenly and blushed again.
Hermione took a moment to answer, looking at Terry in a rather appraising manner. She smiled, and a bit of the old sparkle returned to her eyes.
"For now," she answered. "But nevertheless, I can walk beside you just fine."
22 + 35 = 57 points for Ravenclaw