Revisited
Author: majick
Title: Revisited
Challenge: Kevin Smith's Dogma
Summary: When Ron and Hermione need some time alone, Harry is forced out of their tent. Ron (eventually) comes to apologise - and brings sweets.
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Humour
Word Count (optional): 1,197
Notes/Warnings: Apologies for the lateness, as the deadline clashed with my wife's b'day, and then when I did try and post it went to my own journal rather than this community - at which point my net connection went kablooie and I've only just got it back...
So, yeah, it's a bit late.
The story contains some mild swearing, as befits two teen boys talking, so we'll call this a middling PG-13. This is an outtake to a seventh-year story I'm in the process of writing, and takes place just after the end of a chapter that sees Ron kick Harry out of the tent that he, Hermione and Harry are sharing so that he and Hermione can finally have at it. The story itself will gloss over this section and pick up the following morning, but all blokes have this conversation about a new girlfriend, so...
Hopefullt this is okay - forgot the template first time out :-)
Revisited
(Author Note: Riffing on Rufus and Bethany’s discussion about Jesus in Dogma, here’s a semi follow up to a story I wrote a couple of years back called An Absence Of Vegetables.)
Harry stared at the Horcrux. He had tried everything that he could think of to destroy it - so had Ron, and so had Hermione. It still existed, shining and golden, the badger that showed that it had belonged to Helga Hufflepuff peering quizzically at him from the gleaming surface. Harry was careful to stay at least six inches from the goblet, knowing that to any contact with its surface would activate the protections that Voldemort had placed on it.
The fallen leaves crunched behind him, and he half-turned, rolling over to see the familiar figure of Ron climbing the hill, the faint light of the tent just visible in the valley below.
“Harry?”
“Up here,” he replied, his voice soft in the nighttime.
“Here,” Ron said as he approached, holding out a packet of Jelly Slugs. “Hermione said I should apologise.”
Harry took the bag of sweets.
“Nothing to apologise for,” he said, keeping a tight hold of the bag as Ron eyed it covetously. “You got everything sorted out, then?”
“Yeah, finally,” Ron said, sitting down and resting against a tree.
“So, you and Hermione...” Harry tailed off, not quite sure how to finish the statement, or question, or whatever it would have ended up as.
“Yeah, pretty much.”
Harry stared at the horcrux for a moment, before wrapping it up again and stowing it safely in his backpack. Picking up the sweets, he rolled over to face Ron, and ripped the packet open.
Ron, for the first time in as long as Harry had known him, didn’t react to the idea of sweets so close to him.
“What’s she like?” Harry asked, after eating three of the sweets with no reaction from his friend.
Ron, who had been staring out at the night sky with a beatific expression on his face, turned and looked at Harry.
“Hermione? Smart.”
“Besides that.”
“She’s... centred. D’you ever wonder how she manages to get so much work done, when we were just sitting there, talking about Quidditch, and Malfoy? I mean, she never got caught up in all that, did she. She was above it. But I reckon she liked hearing it, anyway. She puts so much pressure on herself, has to do well, stay out of trouble, please her parents... Hearing us talking about all the unimportant stuff... Well, it must have been nice for her, I guess. Reminded her that there’s other things to life then just marks and potions and stuff.”
“What’s she like now?” Harry asked. “I mean, she doesn’t have Potions class to worry about, or anything.”
“No - but it’s worse now, isn’t it? I mean, look at what we’re doing. Do you ever think about it, Harry? I mean, really? All the terrible things going on right now, from Voldemort on downwards. And she knows that her family are at risk, they’re probably top of that bastard’s list. She has to live with that, every day.”
“And it’s up to us to change that,” Harry said.
“Yeah. D’you reckon that...”
Ron tailed off.
“What?”
Ron reached over and took a sweet. He began chewing it slowly, in a manner Harry had come to recognise as Ron at his most thoughtful.
Eventually, he swallowed and turned to look at Harry again.
“Well... When you kick Voldemort’s scaly arse and we’re done with all this, what do you think happens next?”
Harry looked away.
“I don’t know,” he said, at last. “I hadn’t thought about it.”
“Hermione has,” Ron said, quietly. “She told me what she thinks is going to happen just now.”
“You weren’t just snogging in there, then?”
“Ha ha,” Ron said, flatly. “Seriously, Harry. We take care of Voldemort, and then what happens.”
“I dunno,” Harry said. “I guess... there’ll be Death Eaters around. Someone’ll have to take care of them.”
“After that,” Ron said. “When the world’s settled down a bit.”
Harry looked askance at his friend.
“This is what Hermione thinks, and, for what it’s worth, I reckon she’s probably right. We finish off Voldemort, and you’re the hero, right? I mean, you’re the one who has to kill him.”
Harry made a non-committal noise.
“Then we come out of whatever foul cave he’d crawled into to try and hide, and who’s going to be the first person we see? Galleons to Knuts, it’s Rita Skeeter. And she’ll twist the whole thing, you know she will. If it’s not her, it’ll be some other foul bit from the same school. It’ll be Harry Potter, his pure-blood best friend, and the Muggle-born who went along for the ride.”
“But that’s-“
“Crap. Yeah, I know that, and so do you. But that’s the way the world thinks, Harry. There’s this whole belief system wrapped up in blood superiority. I bet there’s a lot of people like Sirius’ family who don’t disagree with Voldemort’s beliefs, even if they’re not going to sign up and put on those stupid masks.”
“Well, what are we supposed to do about it?”
“Change people’s beliefs,” Ron said, simply. “All that rubbish about people’s blood making any difference. We can do that. We’ll be heroes when we beat him, you know that?”
“So we should just make people believe in us instead of him?”
“No - we need to make people believe in themselves. If people were prepared to fight, or just stand up to the darkness... But they just believe that they’d lose, right from the start, and that’s what gives Voldemort so much power. Think what wizards could have achieved over the years if they weren’t so... so...”
“Insular?”
“Yeah, probably.” Ron slumped back against the tree. “She’s right, you know. I mean, look at me. I was still reading all those Martin Miggs comics long after I got to know Hermione, and I always made fun of her about SPEW... even all the hassle I gave her about Vicky... That was all me being a right prat, and not thinking for myself.”
“I reckon when you were hassling her about Krum, you were thinking for yourself,” Harry said, taking another Slug.
“Yeah,” Ron said, gloomily, taking a Slug for himself. He chewed on it thoughtfully. Harry let his slither down his throat, before looking at his friend again.
“So, you’ve converted to Hermione’s way of thinking, then?”
“It’s not like that,” Ron said. “It’s just common sense. She’s right about a lot of things, it’s just taking the time to listen to her.”
“You know...” Harry began, rummaging in the bag for the last of the Slugs. “I reckon Hermione must be a ruddy good kisser to have made you start saying Voldemort’s name without having a heart attack, never mind all that other stuff.”
Ron reached out a long arm and snatched the last Slug from Harry’s grip.
“Ruddy good?” he said, before dropping the Slug into his mouth. “Try ruddy fantastic,” he said, grinning at Harry before standing up and heading back to the tent, whistling as he went.
The End
Title: Revisited
Challenge: Kevin Smith's Dogma
Summary: When Ron and Hermione need some time alone, Harry is forced out of their tent. Ron (eventually) comes to apologise - and brings sweets.
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Humour
Word Count (optional): 1,197
Notes/Warnings: Apologies for the lateness, as the deadline clashed with my wife's b'day, and then when I did try and post it went to my own journal rather than this community - at which point my net connection went kablooie and I've only just got it back...
So, yeah, it's a bit late.
The story contains some mild swearing, as befits two teen boys talking, so we'll call this a middling PG-13. This is an outtake to a seventh-year story I'm in the process of writing, and takes place just after the end of a chapter that sees Ron kick Harry out of the tent that he, Hermione and Harry are sharing so that he and Hermione can finally have at it. The story itself will gloss over this section and pick up the following morning, but all blokes have this conversation about a new girlfriend, so...
Hopefullt this is okay - forgot the template first time out :-)
Revisited
(Author Note: Riffing on Rufus and Bethany’s discussion about Jesus in Dogma, here’s a semi follow up to a story I wrote a couple of years back called An Absence Of Vegetables.)
Harry stared at the Horcrux. He had tried everything that he could think of to destroy it - so had Ron, and so had Hermione. It still existed, shining and golden, the badger that showed that it had belonged to Helga Hufflepuff peering quizzically at him from the gleaming surface. Harry was careful to stay at least six inches from the goblet, knowing that to any contact with its surface would activate the protections that Voldemort had placed on it.
The fallen leaves crunched behind him, and he half-turned, rolling over to see the familiar figure of Ron climbing the hill, the faint light of the tent just visible in the valley below.
“Harry?”
“Up here,” he replied, his voice soft in the nighttime.
“Here,” Ron said as he approached, holding out a packet of Jelly Slugs. “Hermione said I should apologise.”
Harry took the bag of sweets.
“Nothing to apologise for,” he said, keeping a tight hold of the bag as Ron eyed it covetously. “You got everything sorted out, then?”
“Yeah, finally,” Ron said, sitting down and resting against a tree.
“So, you and Hermione...” Harry tailed off, not quite sure how to finish the statement, or question, or whatever it would have ended up as.
“Yeah, pretty much.”
Harry stared at the horcrux for a moment, before wrapping it up again and stowing it safely in his backpack. Picking up the sweets, he rolled over to face Ron, and ripped the packet open.
Ron, for the first time in as long as Harry had known him, didn’t react to the idea of sweets so close to him.
“What’s she like?” Harry asked, after eating three of the sweets with no reaction from his friend.
Ron, who had been staring out at the night sky with a beatific expression on his face, turned and looked at Harry.
“Hermione? Smart.”
“Besides that.”
“She’s... centred. D’you ever wonder how she manages to get so much work done, when we were just sitting there, talking about Quidditch, and Malfoy? I mean, she never got caught up in all that, did she. She was above it. But I reckon she liked hearing it, anyway. She puts so much pressure on herself, has to do well, stay out of trouble, please her parents... Hearing us talking about all the unimportant stuff... Well, it must have been nice for her, I guess. Reminded her that there’s other things to life then just marks and potions and stuff.”
“What’s she like now?” Harry asked. “I mean, she doesn’t have Potions class to worry about, or anything.”
“No - but it’s worse now, isn’t it? I mean, look at what we’re doing. Do you ever think about it, Harry? I mean, really? All the terrible things going on right now, from Voldemort on downwards. And she knows that her family are at risk, they’re probably top of that bastard’s list. She has to live with that, every day.”
“And it’s up to us to change that,” Harry said.
“Yeah. D’you reckon that...”
Ron tailed off.
“What?”
Ron reached over and took a sweet. He began chewing it slowly, in a manner Harry had come to recognise as Ron at his most thoughtful.
Eventually, he swallowed and turned to look at Harry again.
“Well... When you kick Voldemort’s scaly arse and we’re done with all this, what do you think happens next?”
Harry looked away.
“I don’t know,” he said, at last. “I hadn’t thought about it.”
“Hermione has,” Ron said, quietly. “She told me what she thinks is going to happen just now.”
“You weren’t just snogging in there, then?”
“Ha ha,” Ron said, flatly. “Seriously, Harry. We take care of Voldemort, and then what happens.”
“I dunno,” Harry said. “I guess... there’ll be Death Eaters around. Someone’ll have to take care of them.”
“After that,” Ron said. “When the world’s settled down a bit.”
Harry looked askance at his friend.
“This is what Hermione thinks, and, for what it’s worth, I reckon she’s probably right. We finish off Voldemort, and you’re the hero, right? I mean, you’re the one who has to kill him.”
Harry made a non-committal noise.
“Then we come out of whatever foul cave he’d crawled into to try and hide, and who’s going to be the first person we see? Galleons to Knuts, it’s Rita Skeeter. And she’ll twist the whole thing, you know she will. If it’s not her, it’ll be some other foul bit from the same school. It’ll be Harry Potter, his pure-blood best friend, and the Muggle-born who went along for the ride.”
“But that’s-“
“Crap. Yeah, I know that, and so do you. But that’s the way the world thinks, Harry. There’s this whole belief system wrapped up in blood superiority. I bet there’s a lot of people like Sirius’ family who don’t disagree with Voldemort’s beliefs, even if they’re not going to sign up and put on those stupid masks.”
“Well, what are we supposed to do about it?”
“Change people’s beliefs,” Ron said, simply. “All that rubbish about people’s blood making any difference. We can do that. We’ll be heroes when we beat him, you know that?”
“So we should just make people believe in us instead of him?”
“No - we need to make people believe in themselves. If people were prepared to fight, or just stand up to the darkness... But they just believe that they’d lose, right from the start, and that’s what gives Voldemort so much power. Think what wizards could have achieved over the years if they weren’t so... so...”
“Insular?”
“Yeah, probably.” Ron slumped back against the tree. “She’s right, you know. I mean, look at me. I was still reading all those Martin Miggs comics long after I got to know Hermione, and I always made fun of her about SPEW... even all the hassle I gave her about Vicky... That was all me being a right prat, and not thinking for myself.”
“I reckon when you were hassling her about Krum, you were thinking for yourself,” Harry said, taking another Slug.
“Yeah,” Ron said, gloomily, taking a Slug for himself. He chewed on it thoughtfully. Harry let his slither down his throat, before looking at his friend again.
“So, you’ve converted to Hermione’s way of thinking, then?”
“It’s not like that,” Ron said. “It’s just common sense. She’s right about a lot of things, it’s just taking the time to listen to her.”
“You know...” Harry began, rummaging in the bag for the last of the Slugs. “I reckon Hermione must be a ruddy good kisser to have made you start saying Voldemort’s name without having a heart attack, never mind all that other stuff.”
Ron reached out a long arm and snatched the last Slug from Harry’s grip.
“Ruddy good?” he said, before dropping the Slug into his mouth. “Try ruddy fantastic,” he said, grinning at Harry before standing up and heading back to the tent, whistling as he went.
The End