Fic! Wheee!!
So, this whole research paper noise is due in about two weeks...so clearly I'm writing fic. Harry Potter fandom fic no less. It's been a while. They are both random one shots. Have fun!
Ummmm PG rating I think, kind of dark, but very little foul language and no sex at all
vague book 5 and 6 spoilers...very vague
Alone is a terrible place to be. Dark, cold, shaken, bereft. A place without light. I can hear the wind. It shakes the windows as if it were a dog. Shaking the life out of its prey. I know it’s coming after me. I can feel it. Did you feel it too? Did you feel it coming? When your eyes widened in fear, was it because you realized you were in the jaws of a great black dog that wouldn’t let go? We tried. We tried so hard, but they are watching. Always watching. And now I am alone.
A wraith like figure in black materialized out of the shadows under a streetlight. Like an animal in headlights, the figure froze for a moment then faded back out of the light.
A squad of four green robed, heavily armed inferi marched silently from an alley, heading in the direction of the mysterious figure, weapons drawn. These creatures were not trained to think. They were trained to shoot with accuracy. That was one of the worst days. The day it was learned that the enemy would not shy away from using the bodies and weapons of the people they were trying to destroy. They were deadly, but they were little more than machines. And machines were stupid.
The same figure dropped silently from a ledge behind the inferi to the ground, wand at the ready. The four inferi dropped to the ground with a whispered requiescat in pace and a burst of blue light. The figure walked quickly in the opposite direction of the inferi, their remains already blowing away in the chill wind.
The figure stopped at the end of an alley. There was a hushed sound of metal on metal and then the figure fell through the earth.
She watched as the hole in the cement above her closed quietly. As the last sliver of moonlight disappeared, she removed her hat and shook out her easily visible red hair. She pulled out her wand and spoke lumos. Guided by the soft light, she made her way with soft splashes through the sewers that lay forgotten under the ruined city of Paris.
She reached a door set in a wall and placed the tip of her wand against a crude lightening bolt chipped into the surface. The door opened immediately and shut as soon as she slipped through.
“Did it work?” Draco Malfoy’s voice bit through her like an accusation.
“Of course it did, it was Hermione’s” Ginny spoke softly and evenly.
“A pity she didn’t get to use it.” Malfoy tossed off with a sneer.
There was silence.
“Fuck, sorry. The raid, it didn’t go well.” Apology, or close to it.
“Who?” she asked simply.
“Bones, Creevy, Macmillan, Shwartz, and Rodlegger.”
Ginny nodded, no room left in her for grieving, “any food?”
He pointed at two solitary boxes in the corner.
“Fuck” she said simply.
“But we can take them out now, at least the ones who are already dead.”
“What’s the point?” defeat.
“What do you mean what’s the fucking point! We have to survive, we have to fight!”
“Why?” she asked, “We can’t win…the prophecy.”
“I know,” he sighed, reaching out to take her hand in his, “but what else is there?”
She nodded. And then the perimeter alarms went off.
“Were you followed?” Malfoy asks, voice like a steel wire.
“No.”
“Scouts, then.” She nods. The rest flood into the room, wounded and broken, sad and despairing. Malfoy checks the wards.
“Only one.” He says, “We’ll take care of it…only one.” Relief is an afterthought.
They wade out through the sewers and see the metallic orange light of the torches the inferi carry. A single beam flashing down the tunnel. Malfoy steps aside and gallantly offers her the kill. As the enemy approaches, her wand illuminates a familiar scar on the grey and sagging forehead.
Irony, she muses as she raises her wand, is a bitch. She feels Malfoy’s hand on her shoulder as she whispers the words. Requiescat in pace. She stands in silence as his remains disintegrate. It is Draco who walks forward and scoops up a handful of the ashes. She thinks she hears him crying that night, but she is too full of her own sorrow to be sure.
I found some old poetry today, written when I was another me. Today I feel that I am the same, but I don’t understand the words my other self left behind. She speaks of ghosts that no longer haunt me. She echoes fears that came to pass only when I was no longer afraid. What she felt she had lost, I have found. But I am still lost. My ghosts are the same ghosts in new clothing. My fears are the same fears in new guise. I am lost in a new landscape.
Ummmm PG rating I think, kind of dark, but very little foul language and no sex at all
vague book 5 and 6 spoilers...very vague
Alone is a terrible place to be. Dark, cold, shaken, bereft. A place without light. I can hear the wind. It shakes the windows as if it were a dog. Shaking the life out of its prey. I know it’s coming after me. I can feel it. Did you feel it too? Did you feel it coming? When your eyes widened in fear, was it because you realized you were in the jaws of a great black dog that wouldn’t let go? We tried. We tried so hard, but they are watching. Always watching. And now I am alone.
A wraith like figure in black materialized out of the shadows under a streetlight. Like an animal in headlights, the figure froze for a moment then faded back out of the light.
A squad of four green robed, heavily armed inferi marched silently from an alley, heading in the direction of the mysterious figure, weapons drawn. These creatures were not trained to think. They were trained to shoot with accuracy. That was one of the worst days. The day it was learned that the enemy would not shy away from using the bodies and weapons of the people they were trying to destroy. They were deadly, but they were little more than machines. And machines were stupid.
The same figure dropped silently from a ledge behind the inferi to the ground, wand at the ready. The four inferi dropped to the ground with a whispered requiescat in pace and a burst of blue light. The figure walked quickly in the opposite direction of the inferi, their remains already blowing away in the chill wind.
The figure stopped at the end of an alley. There was a hushed sound of metal on metal and then the figure fell through the earth.
She watched as the hole in the cement above her closed quietly. As the last sliver of moonlight disappeared, she removed her hat and shook out her easily visible red hair. She pulled out her wand and spoke lumos. Guided by the soft light, she made her way with soft splashes through the sewers that lay forgotten under the ruined city of Paris.
She reached a door set in a wall and placed the tip of her wand against a crude lightening bolt chipped into the surface. The door opened immediately and shut as soon as she slipped through.
“Did it work?” Draco Malfoy’s voice bit through her like an accusation.
“Of course it did, it was Hermione’s” Ginny spoke softly and evenly.
“A pity she didn’t get to use it.” Malfoy tossed off with a sneer.
There was silence.
“Fuck, sorry. The raid, it didn’t go well.” Apology, or close to it.
“Who?” she asked simply.
“Bones, Creevy, Macmillan, Shwartz, and Rodlegger.”
Ginny nodded, no room left in her for grieving, “any food?”
He pointed at two solitary boxes in the corner.
“Fuck” she said simply.
“But we can take them out now, at least the ones who are already dead.”
“What’s the point?” defeat.
“What do you mean what’s the fucking point! We have to survive, we have to fight!”
“Why?” she asked, “We can’t win…the prophecy.”
“I know,” he sighed, reaching out to take her hand in his, “but what else is there?”
She nodded. And then the perimeter alarms went off.
“Were you followed?” Malfoy asks, voice like a steel wire.
“No.”
“Scouts, then.” She nods. The rest flood into the room, wounded and broken, sad and despairing. Malfoy checks the wards.
“Only one.” He says, “We’ll take care of it…only one.” Relief is an afterthought.
They wade out through the sewers and see the metallic orange light of the torches the inferi carry. A single beam flashing down the tunnel. Malfoy steps aside and gallantly offers her the kill. As the enemy approaches, her wand illuminates a familiar scar on the grey and sagging forehead.
Irony, she muses as she raises her wand, is a bitch. She feels Malfoy’s hand on her shoulder as she whispers the words. Requiescat in pace. She stands in silence as his remains disintegrate. It is Draco who walks forward and scoops up a handful of the ashes. She thinks she hears him crying that night, but she is too full of her own sorrow to be sure.
I found some old poetry today, written when I was another me. Today I feel that I am the same, but I don’t understand the words my other self left behind. She speaks of ghosts that no longer haunt me. She echoes fears that came to pass only when I was no longer afraid. What she felt she had lost, I have found. But I am still lost. My ghosts are the same ghosts in new clothing. My fears are the same fears in new guise. I am lost in a new landscape.