Writer's Block 33.3 - Voting
Challenge: Survival
Points: 1st/2nd/3rd/Participation Only: 50/40/30/10 points & 20/15/10/5 knuts, respectively. 2pts for voting.
Deadline: Submissions taken until Tuesday, October 13 @ 11:59PM UTC, Voting until Friday, October 16th 11:59PM UTC.
Details: Your inspiration for this Writers Block is simply "Survival"!
RULES:
+ You may submit ONE (1) entry.
+ All fics must be between 100 and 500 words. Use either this site to double-check your count or this one.
+ Your fic must be written specifically for this challenge.
+ Include only official Harry Potter characters from the books and movies. No original characters or characters from another series.
+ No fics of an R or NC-17 rating. (Use common sense for this, but examples include no intense violence, no graphic sex scenes, etc.)
+ Do not share your entry or post it in any other capacity until voting concludes.
And the entries for Survival are:
Title: So He May Live
She had known, since the minute they had decided to go into hiding, that it would one day come to this. She had tried to be optimistic, for James’ sake, for Sirius’ sake, for Harry’s sake, always talking about the days when this would be over, when they would be free to walk their son around the wizarding world, when they would once again be able to attend parties and laugh with their friends and not worry every second of the day that their next breath would be their last.
But somewhere deep inside she had known, known that was only a fantasy, a dream that could never come true, known that life as they had once experienced it was over.
The only thing that was left now was protecting Harry, making sure he was safe, that he survived, that he lived. He was going to be special; she had known that since the moment he was placed in her arms and he had looked at her out of those big green eyes. (“Babies can’t see anything when they are that young,” James had told her then, but she hadn’t needed confirmation to know Harry had seen her, had known who she was. Her son was destined to be special. A mother always knows.)
There hadn’t been any kind of warning. Just a crack through the air and a sense of foreboding. She had picked up the baby and run, fighting the urge to look back, to see James just one more time. But Harry … she’d had to make sure Harry survived.
So she had run, but there was nowhere to go, no time to leave. Voldermort followed her, was now in front of her, laughing and laughing, his face contorted in the most gruesome kind of glee. He was enjoying this, thriving on this, relishing this.
She kept the baby behind her, used her body to shield him.
She would not take Voldemort’s offer to live. There was no choice, there was no decision. She stared at him defiantly and watched coldly as he raised his wand.
She did not need to survive. But Harry did. Harry would. Harry was special, and she was going to make sure they all knew that.
It was the very last thought that flitted through her mind before it all went silent.
Harry.
Title: Broken but not destroyed
A week after the war was won, Harry Potter lay wide awake in bed, having been unable to sleep since that fateful day. His thoughts were all over the place, unable to focus on anything apart from the things that he had seen. The things that he had done.
Unshaven, not hungry, his eyes were sunken as he stared listlessly at the ceiling. This is the way that one Andromeda Tonks found him. She took one look at him and hauled him up. They were family, one of the few left, so she gave him a swift slap over the head and then drew him into a hug. This act caused him to break down on her shoulder, unable to process what had happened to him properly.
"It's okay, sweetheart, it's okay to let it out," she whispered into his ear as he clung to her, Andromeda's heart was breaking as she saw this. Everyone else saw The Boy Who Lived, The Man Who Conquered, The Saviour - here she was just seeing Harry. A boy who grew up too fast.
Harry survived the war. Now it was time for him to live his life.
Title: Together
The screams had never left her throat. They had never left her throat and would not now, not even as burning tears of pain came streaming down her cheeks as she lay there on the cold, hard ground, heavily breathing and scarcely capable of opening her eyes. She was alive. There was no doubt that she was alive, that she had survived their little nightly visit. Of course she had... They would not dare to spill too much of what they considered such precious blood, even if it was a traitor's, not yet. She was alive; and she had not given them the triumph of devouring her cries.
Ted was right there, kneeling beside her, stroking her brow so tenderly as though he were afraid to hurt her with his merest touch. He looked terrible, battered and bruised, but seemed all right, as though for once they had spared him the worst, as though they were preparing for... No. Andromeda dared not finish her thought, quickly swallowed down the nausea of concern. The worry was written upon his face as he slowly, gently helped her sit at first and then stand, giving her firm but careful support while they walked, collapsing onto their bed together mere moments later.
"You all right?" he asked, and it seemed like a strange question, but Andromeda nodded in response, forcing herself to smile at her husband. She would be all right, sooner or later, as the wounds were painful but superficial, would do everything to forget the happenings of the night and focus on her duty, focus on him. Ted... Her husband, her beloved... How sweet his concern for her was, despite the full awareness that she was in no danger, not like him, not...
But they would survive. They both would survive, would emerge from this war triumphant and never look back, would overcome this time of terror as they had overcome anything before, anything at all. They would survive... They would survive. Together.
Title: Only to Die
The woods were dark, and a sense of deepest cold permeated his very bones, filling him with an icy emptiness that threatened to overwhelm him, send him tumbling off the edge of the world, his soul shriveling up into nothingness.
Every step was torture, his heart thundering inside his chest. The world felt endless, just one long dark corridor, the trees looping on and on away from him, twisted branches overhead and tangled roots below. Would he never arrive at his destination, would he wander the forbidden woods forever? Perhaps he would. Perhaps this was all he had ever lived for, this walk amongst these haunted trees.
He had survived so many things. He had lived beneath a staircase with no light except his own imagination; he had been bitten by the largest snake he'd ever seen. He had stared down a fleet of dementors and been saved by his very own self without even realizing it; he had looked into the eyes of death itself. Harry Potter had survived; the world knew him for that very word, survival. He had lived.
He had lived, and now he walked into death with open arms. He had lived, only to die.
He took one last gigantic breath, fighting the fear and cold and darkness, sucking precious air into his lungs and attempting to savor it, attempting to remember what it was like to breathe, should he take no more oxygen in this life. Harry breathed, and then he stepped into the clearing, to face Lord Voldemort and accept his fate.
Title: Layers
"Leave me now -- except you, Severus."
I froze as the other Death Eaters scurried away like rats from a sinking ship.
Voldemort steepled his fingers, resting his chin on them as he regarded me. Silence stretched like cobwebs.
At last, I spoke, forcing myself to breathe normally. "My Lord?"
"I know of your agreement with Dumbledore, of course."
I said nothing, because there was nothing to say. The question was simply how many more moments of life remained to me and how painful they would be. For you, Lily. I blinked slowly, savoring the sensations of eyelid and breath.
"What I'm trying to decide, Severus, is exactly how devious you are." His lips crooked up in a half-smile. "Which of us are you deceiving, hmmm?"
Opportunity fluttered its brilliant wings at me and I grasped them with everything I had. "Perhaps you would care to look into my thoughts, my Lord?"
"That I would, Severus. If you would be so kind?"
A heartbeat passed as I compressed certain thoughts into a singularity at my core, wrapping layers of half-truth around them into a whirling miasma whose event horizon looked identical to the core. Whether it would be enough to fool the best Legilimens the world had seen in generations...well, we'd soon find out.
He wasn't gentle, but he wasn't overly harsh either. I let the outer walls collapse one by one as he probed them, showing a proper balance of strength and deference. He reached the event horizon, scrutinizing it for uncountable moments.
At last, he withdrew. We exhaled simultaneously.
"Hatred and revenge versus love of a woman. You chose wisely, Severus." His half-smile curled between us. "And that Potter was insufferable to you."
I nodded.
"So continue your ruse with Dumbledore. It will be to our advantage."
I nodded again.
“You know, Severus, if I actually had lieutenants, I’d make you one -- your deviousness is exemplary. You do Slytherin house proud.”
I bowed my head, letting my own lips flicker briefly up.“Thank you, my Lord.”
Title: In the Forest
It isn't so much living as it is surviving. That's what Padfoot reminds himself as he snarls his way through another feast of rat in Forbidden Forest. He tries to imagine it's Wormtail and he's tearing him apart piece by piece, but the idea of that much violence sours his stomach, and the dog sits back on its haunches and paws the rat aside.
Everything depends upon his survival. Padfoot, hungry, rail-thin, and exhausted, pads out of the trees, to the edge of the forest, in sight of the castle. Nighttime. Lights flicker in windows, and his stormy eyes trace the outline of the stone to Gryffindor Tower. Recalls years in that tower, years out on the grounds, years in his very forest.
Suddenly very tired, Padfoot sinks onto the ground, tucks his chin on his paws. He barks, more of a hoarse cough than a bark, at a black squirrel to his left. The squirrel scurries away. The dog angles his head, ears twitching. He needs to get inside the castle, inside Gryffindor Tower. He needs to find Wormtail and drag him away from Harry.
Once that's done, Padfoot thinks as his eyes slip closed and he succumbs to a few minutes' nap at the edge of the forest, where his dark, frail body blends into the low covering of plant life, once that's done, he won't have to survive like this for another second.
Title: Stitched Hems
The robes were fraying at the bottom. Molly had stitched up the hem to stop the unraveling as well as to hide it, and in the end the robes were an inch too short.
Percy wondered if fraying robes would have been preferable to short ones. He contemplated pulling out his mother’s mending and letting the robes unravel as they wished. Then his parents would have to buy him new ones. But Bill had received new robes that year and Percy his brother’s old wardrobe, for there weren’t enough galleons to cover two new sets; so the old robes would carry on, shorter and shrinking and fading, and one day might even end up on little Ron.
Percy pressed his lips and pulled the robes over his head. He refused to look down. He looked others in the eye, with his chin thrust high, a challenge to those careless boys and girls who were thriving not just surviving. Percy, who would never have it so easy, shored up respect and pride against his shame.
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