Written out of irritation.
I'm well narked, cos my brain won't let me write anything original. It's filling my head full of scenarios for other peoples characters. So I figure, if I give in, it might behave and let me work on one of my stories for a change.
I'm not holding my breath, mind you.
So, here's some short Harry Potter fanfic.
Firstly, 'It All Depends On your Point Of View.' - R/Hr, set roughly 4th year, but it doesn't really matter.
It All Depends On Your Point Of View.
The Gryffindor common room was filled fit to burst. Practically every member of the house was in evidence, and it was getting uncomfortable.
Most of the girls were huddled around a copy of the Muggle magazine ‘Cosmopolitan’ that Angelina Johnson had smuggled in, and the boys sat around playing chess, or trying to study, and generally getting in each other’s way.
But, at least there was live entertainment.
Again.
Ron and Hermione stood in the corner of the room, arguing in hushed but dangerous tones. Harry was nowhere to be seen, but nobody in the common room had really noticed that. They were all too transfixed by the bickering pair.
Hermione, whose arms had been crossed in front of her chest, took a breath and thrust them down, ramrod straight at her sides.
‘Fine.’ Her tone was icy. ‘If you don’t understand because you’re a complete IDIOT, that is not my fault!’
Ron lifted his chin and looked down at her. ‘Just because I don’t know every fact ever written, I am not an idiot. I’m smart enough to know when I’ve had enough of YOU!’
He turned and marched up the stairs to the boy’s dormitory.
Hermione growled low in her throat, and then looked at her captive audience.
‘Well, what are you staring at?’
With that, she turned and fled to her own room, slamming doors behind her as she went.
There was a pregnant pause in the common room, broken by the sound of something smashing above their heads.
The boys began making comments like ‘Why are they even friends?’ ‘How long have they been fighting?’ ‘You’d think they’d just stop hanging around together.’
Sat with his twin and Lee Jordan on a table next to a few second years, George Weasley hung his head. ‘We keep telling him to leave her alone, but he’s all ‘I’m Harry’s friend, and if Harry wants to hang around with her, then I have to.’ Honestly. He’s useless.’
One of the second years looked up from his potions homework. ‘Have they always been like that?’
Behind him, Dean Thomas let out a snort. ‘Oh, yeah. You should hear what he says in the dorm about her. Even mutters her name when he’s asleep. Must fight with her then, too.’
‘Lavender says Hermione does the same thing.’ Seamus laughed. ‘She says she doesn’t know what half the words even mean!’
Lee Jordan smiled. ‘Sounds like her, all right! It’s simple, man. They hate each other, and they only put up with each other cos of Harry.’
Nodding sagely, the boys turned back to their respective pursuits.
There was a pregnant pause in the common room, broken by the sound of something smashing above their heads.
‘You know,’ Parvati remarked to Lavender, ‘Maybe we shouldn’t go upstairs just yet.’ Lavender rolled her eyes, and shook her head. The girls all knew exactly what she meant. Beside her, Angelina Johnson smiled and exchanged glances with Katie Bell.
‘We’ve said it a thousand times, haven’t we, Kate?’
Katie looked round at the girls beside her, and shook her head ruefully.
‘It’s true. The quicker those two get together, the happier everyone will be!’
Ginny, sat on the left with Vicky Frobisher, raised her hand in mock salute, her face frustrated.
‘I’ll second that!’
Nodding sagely, the girls turned back to their magazine.
And secondly, 'BeLoved' - Rm/Hr, set post-OotP, and pretty much post-everything!
BeLoved
Beauty queen of only eighteen
She had some trouble with herself
He was always there to help her
She always belonged to someone else
The tall man pulled the collar up on his dark brown coat, and shifted his legs, before returning his stare to the window across the road. The girl on the other side of the glass was placing books on shelves, only occasionally interrupted by customers. She’d greet each one chirpily, removing her glasses and welcoming them with a smile that didn’t quite reach her brown eyes.
The man watching her rocked his chair back on two legs and raised an arm to his waiter, not tearing his eyes from the girl in the bookstore. It had been just six months since she’d disappeared. They’d woken, still bruised but alive, on a snowy January morning and found a note that forbade any search, and that screamed with pain.
I drove for miles and miles
And wound up at your door
I've had you so many times but somehow
I want more
A sinewy figure in black appeared at his side, and he raised his empty coffee cup. The waiter filled it wordlessly once more, and returned to his post at the bar, weaving between tables and customers. The small café in Marseilles was full of people, locals and tourists, but the tired looking man in the dark coat only had eyes for the girl he’d been studying for days on end.
He remembered her so well, and yet not at all. The woman in front of him had her features, and her grace, but there was something missing. He recalled with a smile what she’d been like. He’d watched her in classes, her brow furrowed, and her quill scratching faster than anyone else. When she’d known the answer - which was always - her hand had thrust into the air and her face had shone, beaming out that she was right, and the answering was merely a formality. He could see now that that child was gone. He’d seen her grow, but not age, and suddenly the girl before him was a woman, with pain in her eyes and a tenseness about her stance that had not been there before. He sighed, and shifted aching shoulders.
It was only to be expected.
I don't mind spending everyday
Out on your corner in the pouring rain
Look for the girl with the broken smile
Ask her if she wants to stay awhile
And she will be loved
And she will be loved
It had taken him so long to find her, but finally, with a little help from his ‘friends’, he had tracked her down to this tiny place. He’d been watching for three weeks now, first from afar, then closer, and closer. Finally he’d developed the courage to sit directly across from her. He’d been there from dawn till dusk for four days now, come rain or shine. He had to talk to her. He had to look into her eyes. It had to be soon. It had to be soon, or he’d be lost.
Tap on my window, knock on my door
I want to make you feel beautiful
I know I tend to get so insecure
It doesn't matter anymore
He’d never felt fear like this, not because of her. She’d never looked down on him, or treated him with anything other than respect, even when they’d disagreed; he’d known that it was because she cared about his opinion. She’d been one of only a few who cared at all. Her silent acceptance of him still tore at his heart. After the night when he'd lost control, he hadn’t deserved it, he had deserved nothing but despite, but she’d never pulled away. Her eyes became a haven for him. Her trust was undeniable. She made him feel worthy.
He remembered watching her, always aware and alert, her mind so sharp, so well trained that in the end, it was she who had saved them all. She’d saved him.
It's not always rainbows and butterflies
It's compromise that moves us along
My heart is full and my door's always open
You can come anytime you want
The rain had begun to fall again, but the man in brown didn’t move. The elements no longer concerned him, he’d seen far worse than few rain showers. She’d turned to the front of the store, shelving, or sorting, her body facing outwards and her hair falling around her face. He leant forward, but the rain poured down the mottled glass, obscuring the woman inside, making her formless and unreal.
I don't mind spending everyday
Out on your corner in the pouring rain
Look for the girl with the broken smile
Ask her if she wants to stay awhile
And she will be loved
And she will be loved
And she will be loved
And she will be loved
The shape inside moved to the door, flipping the sign to Fermé, and stepping through the arch into the rain. For a few tantalising seconds, there was nothing between them. No glass, no shelves, no walls. He was back in the comfortable classrooms, transfixed as she wrote, marveling at her composure. She ran to a small car parked beside the store, and pulled a bag from the back seat, and then, holding it over her head, she skipped and jumped over the puddles forming on the cobbles, and darted back through the door.
There and gone again.
Just like old times. A flash of brilliance, and the world returned to normality.
Normality… for everyone but him.
I know where you hide
Alone in your car
Know all of the things that make you who you are
I know that goodbye means nothing at all
Comes back and begs me to catch her every time she falls
He thrust his hand into the pocket of his coat, clasped cold fingers around a scrap of paper. Smoothing the note out, he read it for the thousandth time.
I’m so sorry to have to do this to you, but I can’t stay.
I can’t live like this; it’s too raw.
I need some time alone, so please don’t search for me. I’ll come back when I’m ready.
If I’m ever ready.
I love you. All.
He knew it by heart, but with her just a few feet away it was more real than ever before, and yet had never meant less. They’d accepted her flight, after a few days when they’d heard nothing. Then it had been weeks, and they’d given up hope that she’d return. They’d begun to move on, occasionally speaking of her in the past tense, as if she’d died, or been taken from them.
It had nearly driven him insane.
Tap on my window, Knock on my door
I want to make you feel beautiful
To begin with, he claimed that they all needed to know she was well, and that everything was ok. It would be better, they’d all be happier. His reasons were rational, lucid and understandable.
They had been a lie.
He needed her back, beside him, keeping him from the brink of madness, and if she wouldn’t come willingly, by Merlin, then he’d drag her home by the hair.
I don't mind spending every day
Out on your corner in the pouring rain, oh
Look for the girl with the broken smile
Ask her if she wants to stay awhile
And she will be loved
And she will be loved
And she will be loved
And she will be loved
They lights in the bookstore were still on, and through the rain-soaked glass, he could see her shape bent over a desk, a light floating beside her. It was sure to be a lamp, but for a brief moment, he prayed it was magic. He needed the courage; some hope that she wouldn’t reject him. He balled the note up in his left hand, and threw it to the ground. It was all to be settled right now, and one piece of parchment written in sadness and fear, meant nothing.
Please don't try so hard to say goodbye
Please don't try so hard to say goodbye
He was bringing her home.
I don't mind spending everyday
Out on your corner in the pouring rain
Hermione Granger brushed her hair from her face, and rolled her shoulders. The small globe of light floated nearer as she beckoned, and she focused on the page in front of her. She was so engrossed that when the bell above the door rang, she jumped, causing the light to flicker and die.
There was a figure at her door, hunched and bedraggled, silhouetted against the moon outside. As she frowned and rose, an almost forgotten part of her brain murmured ‘Four nights until it’s full.’
Pulling herself together, Hermione smiled, even in the dark, and began to speak, repeating her words in two languages.
‘Je suis desole, Monsieur, mais nous somme ferme. I’m sorry, sir, but we are closed.’
Her hand groped for the switch at her side, and as she flooded the room with light, the next words died on her lips.
Removing his hat, and shaking his collar dry, Remus Lupin looked across the room at the woman in front of him.
‘Even to me?’
Please don't try so hard to say goodbye.