Cleaning out my closet...
I went to my mother's house last night with my sister. Wasn't feeling well, and needed to clear my head, and get over some sort of bug I seem to have picked up. A little bit of Advil Cold and Sinus goes a long way. Anyhow, while I was here, i went onto my mother's computer, which has all of my old files, and I found some stuff. Old fics I forgot about. Plot-bunnies in sketch format that I don't think I'll ever write out. And then, there are some plot bunnies that I MUST finish writing. In the meantime, while I start sorting through these and deciding which ones I want to continue, I want to share one of the bunnies that never became a full-grown jackrabbit.
I wrote this one about two days after HBP came out. And promptly lost it, as I tend to do. So, if it resembles the theories that EVERYONE has been spouting for ages, I'm sorry, it is what it is. If it resembles someone else's fic, I'm sorry too, and I'll tell you flat out that I haven't actually read any post-HBP H/D. I know, awful, huh? I was wrapped up finishing Eclipse, and then I was too busy with real life to write. (Trust me, THAT is about to change.) Either way, this was JUST a plot bunny. Undeveloped. Completely unedited from the form it was in the week after HBP was released. Not terribly good in the form it was left in. It was me spurting out my thoughts onto the computer because after reading HBP, my brain was going to explode if I didn't vent some of it. But, if you want to read it... enjoy!
***************************************************
Harry had never intended to return to Grimmauld Place, but after careful consideration, he reasoned that a fair place to begin his search for the Horcruxes was the home of a known family of Voldemort-supporters. Besides, now that it was his house, he knew that eventually, he'd have to go through the things that had been left behind.
Several members of the Order accompanied him, but he didn't much care. They could search the cellar, the attic, and the library. The private study, and Sirius's bedroom... nobody was to touch those places but him. After an exhaustive search of the study, which revealed a few hexed items, but nothing significant, Harry walked on heavy feet to the room he'd never wanted to see again. He wanted to walk in to see the room as it had been that last Christmas Sirius was still with them. He'd walked in the morning after Christmas to see his godfather still asleep, laying on his stomach, arm flung over the edge of the bed, sheets twisted everywhere. And snoring. It was rather amusing. At the time. If Harry let himself, he could still imagine that it was that Boxing Day morning, and he'd walk into Sirius's room, and Sirius would be there, snoring loudly. But of course, he knew better.
The room was exactly as it had been left, save for the thick layer of dust that had accumulated over the past year. With a grimace, Harry aimed his wand and recited one of the cleaning charms Mrs. Weasley had taught him. The dust siphoned away, leaving Harry with a flash of gratitude that he'd already turned seventeen. The gratitude quickly faded in the face of this daunting task. With a heavy sigh, he set to work.
After two hours, Harry had found nothing of a dark or sinister nature, nor anything that had a chance of being used as a Horcrux. He had, however, found several personal items of Sirius's that had been enough to bring him to tears. A picture of him and Remus. The trick-wineglass he'd used to drench Fred Weasley in champagne at Christmas dinner -- an excellent payback, Harry reckoned, for the exploding cupcake Fred had given him the day before. And an unsent letter he'd addressed to Harry, written the day before the fiasco at the Ministry.
Harry read the letter twice through while pacing the room, ignoring the tears in his eyes. He'd spent a year refusing to get further wrapped up in emotion over Sirius's death, but now, it felt like the right time to let it out. So he did. As he was pacing, however, the toe of his shoe caught on the edge of a loose floorboard.
Harry's first inclination was to ignore it. He had other things on his mind just then. But an instant later, it hit him: how many things could be hidden under a loose floorboard?
Quickly, he dropped the letter on the bed, and pushed the bed backwards to expose the whole board. He gave it a shake. Definitely loose. After a moment of tugging at it, he'd pried it loose. When he saw the book stored beneath it, his heart almost stopped.
Without hesitation, Harry grabbed the book, jumped onto the bed, and flipped open the front cover. It was a diary, filled with a neat yet juvenille script. Remembering caution, Harry passed his wand over the book, murmuring a few incantations. Once satisfied that this was nothing but a simple book, he sighed, and delved into reading.
Dear Diary,
What kind of a start is that? "Dear Diary?" Why do we write such stupid things?
Anyway, today's my 12th birthday "party", because I was in school for my birthday. Lovely party... I hate this dingy old place. I couldn't have a normal party at home, with my friends. Oh no, I'm stuck here, with Great Auntie Black. A little bit batty, that one. Mother went to France for holiday, and father... he won't tell me what he's doing, but I'm sure I'd have more fun if he'd let me go with him.
Harry paused for a moment and sat up a bit straighter. This definitely wasn't Sirius's writing. "Great Auntie Black"? No, definitely not. Furrowing his eyebrows, he continued to read.
So, happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me. If I'm lucky, Auntie Bella might come later, or maybe some of my friends will come. I'd like that. In the meantime, I got this diary for a present from my father. He said when he came back, if I behaved, he'd have a better present for me. I certainly hope so. A damn book? I want that new broomstick! There's no way I can beat Potter on that old piece of junk I have.
At that, Harry's breath stuck in his throat, and he found himself having to cought to get air through his lungs. This was Draco Malfoy's diary. It had to be. Not quite certain how he felt about this, he read on.
So, here's hoping for the new broomstick. It'd be a small consolation for being stuck here. What a day. I've spent all morning listening to Great Auntie Black telling me what a great servant to the Dark Lord I would make. She keeps talking about my breeding and my upbringing, and how perfect I would be. The more she talks though, the more I don't like this. I mean, I want to serve, right? My father would want that. He serves the Dark Lord. How else would I ever make him proud? And besides, I don't like Mudbloods either. Especially Granger. She keeps beating me at everything. My father keeps saying that if I let myself be bested by a Mudblood, I'm a disgrace. She's too good though! It's not fair! How will I ever be good enough?
But then, Auntie Black was talking about killing Mudbloods, and how the Dark Lord thought that was the best solution: just to get rid of them. I don't know about that. I mean, maybe someone else, but I don't want to do it. I'd have to let them all think I want the Mudbloods dead. All of them. And I do! But I don't want to do it. I don't know if I could. I just don't know.
There's a lot of influence that comes with the Dark Mark, my father says. Power. Even with the Dark Lord diminished as he is, those who bear his mark still carry that power for him. And he'll come back, my father says. And when the time comes, either you're with him, or against him. And it's much better to be on his side when the time comes. I hope.
Harry couldn't quite believe what he was reading. Even as young as the age of twelve, Draco knew this much about his fate? And he was already scared? And wavering in his convictions? This was too much to believe. Swallowing convulsively against the lump that was growing in his throat, Harry continued.
I don't know if anyone will ever find this... I kinda hope someone will. I'm going to leave the diary here. So... whoever finds this... if someday, you know a Draco Malfoy, and he's in some sort of trouble, because he couldn't carry out the Dark Lord's wishes... help him out, please? Because as much as I'd like to think that when the time comes, I'll be ready, I don't think I will be. Not that I'd think the right person would ever find this, of course. Hell, I might be signing my own death certificate by writing this and leaving it in Auntie's house, but I don't care. Whoever finds this is meant to find it, and it will be the right person.
By now, Harry found that he was hardly breathing.
Oh, I did get one other thing for my birthday. Auntie Black gave me this funny pendant on a chain. She said it used to be Uncle Regulus's, but she didn't want it anymore. She said he had wanted to serve the Dark Lord, but he was a coward, and was killed. She said I'd do better than him, and that he'd brought home the pendant just before his death. She thought it might bring me luck. It feels warm, like there's a lot of magic in it. I think I'll wear it from now on... whether that ties me to the same fate as Uncle Regulus, or gives me luck.
Anyhow, I think that's my Auntie calling me. Who knows? I might even get a damned birthday cake. Happy birthday to me.
~Draco
Harry sat up. He skimmed through the entry again. This was Draco, all right. And he'd left this diary for the "right person" to find. Someone who could help him. But Harry couldn't help, could he?
He thought back to his last good look at Malfoy. Scared, trembling, trying desperately to live up to his expectations, and failing miserably. And now, certainly, the Dark Lord was threatening to kill him, after such a spectacular failure. No, Draco didn't have the composition of a Death Eater. And perhaps, after his encounter with Dumbledore... there might be something salvageable there.
But Harry didn't have time for rescue missions for junior Death Eaters. He had to find the Horcruxes.
And then it hit him. So disgustingly obvious. Harry read the last part of the journal entry again. And again. Regulus Black's pendant. Regulus Augustus Black. R.A.B.
Time seemed to freeze. Draco had one of the Horcruxes. And now, Harry had to find him before Voldemort found out, killed Draco, and took back the Horcrux. And he had to do it now.
Hearing nothing but the blood rushing through his ears in heavy pulses, Harry scrambled off the bed, clutching the diary tightly, and burst out the door. He had no idea where to begin, but now, he had only one mission: Get Draco.
At the bottom of the stairs, Harry skidded to a sudden stop, and blinked in shock. When did Malfoy become "Draco"? He shook his head. He'd worry about that later.
*~FIN~*
And there you have it... the plot bunny I should have written and developed a year ago. Where the hell does time go? *sigh*
Anyhow, I do have plans now to finish several started fics (including some smut), and begin another novel-length. And I SWEAR, I will do it now. I miss writing so much, I can't begin to explain. Lately, I just haven't had the energy, or the ability to concentrate on it. I will soon. And I also promise to post a proper write-up of Lumos! Yes, my lovelies... much fun was had at Lumos. Oh, my fandom, how I love thee...
~Mijan
I wrote this one about two days after HBP came out. And promptly lost it, as I tend to do. So, if it resembles the theories that EVERYONE has been spouting for ages, I'm sorry, it is what it is. If it resembles someone else's fic, I'm sorry too, and I'll tell you flat out that I haven't actually read any post-HBP H/D. I know, awful, huh? I was wrapped up finishing Eclipse, and then I was too busy with real life to write. (Trust me, THAT is about to change.) Either way, this was JUST a plot bunny. Undeveloped. Completely unedited from the form it was in the week after HBP was released. Not terribly good in the form it was left in. It was me spurting out my thoughts onto the computer because after reading HBP, my brain was going to explode if I didn't vent some of it. But, if you want to read it... enjoy!
***************************************************
Harry had never intended to return to Grimmauld Place, but after careful consideration, he reasoned that a fair place to begin his search for the Horcruxes was the home of a known family of Voldemort-supporters. Besides, now that it was his house, he knew that eventually, he'd have to go through the things that had been left behind.
Several members of the Order accompanied him, but he didn't much care. They could search the cellar, the attic, and the library. The private study, and Sirius's bedroom... nobody was to touch those places but him. After an exhaustive search of the study, which revealed a few hexed items, but nothing significant, Harry walked on heavy feet to the room he'd never wanted to see again. He wanted to walk in to see the room as it had been that last Christmas Sirius was still with them. He'd walked in the morning after Christmas to see his godfather still asleep, laying on his stomach, arm flung over the edge of the bed, sheets twisted everywhere. And snoring. It was rather amusing. At the time. If Harry let himself, he could still imagine that it was that Boxing Day morning, and he'd walk into Sirius's room, and Sirius would be there, snoring loudly. But of course, he knew better.
The room was exactly as it had been left, save for the thick layer of dust that had accumulated over the past year. With a grimace, Harry aimed his wand and recited one of the cleaning charms Mrs. Weasley had taught him. The dust siphoned away, leaving Harry with a flash of gratitude that he'd already turned seventeen. The gratitude quickly faded in the face of this daunting task. With a heavy sigh, he set to work.
After two hours, Harry had found nothing of a dark or sinister nature, nor anything that had a chance of being used as a Horcrux. He had, however, found several personal items of Sirius's that had been enough to bring him to tears. A picture of him and Remus. The trick-wineglass he'd used to drench Fred Weasley in champagne at Christmas dinner -- an excellent payback, Harry reckoned, for the exploding cupcake Fred had given him the day before. And an unsent letter he'd addressed to Harry, written the day before the fiasco at the Ministry.
Harry read the letter twice through while pacing the room, ignoring the tears in his eyes. He'd spent a year refusing to get further wrapped up in emotion over Sirius's death, but now, it felt like the right time to let it out. So he did. As he was pacing, however, the toe of his shoe caught on the edge of a loose floorboard.
Harry's first inclination was to ignore it. He had other things on his mind just then. But an instant later, it hit him: how many things could be hidden under a loose floorboard?
Quickly, he dropped the letter on the bed, and pushed the bed backwards to expose the whole board. He gave it a shake. Definitely loose. After a moment of tugging at it, he'd pried it loose. When he saw the book stored beneath it, his heart almost stopped.
Without hesitation, Harry grabbed the book, jumped onto the bed, and flipped open the front cover. It was a diary, filled with a neat yet juvenille script. Remembering caution, Harry passed his wand over the book, murmuring a few incantations. Once satisfied that this was nothing but a simple book, he sighed, and delved into reading.
Dear Diary,
What kind of a start is that? "Dear Diary?" Why do we write such stupid things?
Anyway, today's my 12th birthday "party", because I was in school for my birthday. Lovely party... I hate this dingy old place. I couldn't have a normal party at home, with my friends. Oh no, I'm stuck here, with Great Auntie Black. A little bit batty, that one. Mother went to France for holiday, and father... he won't tell me what he's doing, but I'm sure I'd have more fun if he'd let me go with him.
Harry paused for a moment and sat up a bit straighter. This definitely wasn't Sirius's writing. "Great Auntie Black"? No, definitely not. Furrowing his eyebrows, he continued to read.
So, happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me. If I'm lucky, Auntie Bella might come later, or maybe some of my friends will come. I'd like that. In the meantime, I got this diary for a present from my father. He said when he came back, if I behaved, he'd have a better present for me. I certainly hope so. A damn book? I want that new broomstick! There's no way I can beat Potter on that old piece of junk I have.
At that, Harry's breath stuck in his throat, and he found himself having to cought to get air through his lungs. This was Draco Malfoy's diary. It had to be. Not quite certain how he felt about this, he read on.
So, here's hoping for the new broomstick. It'd be a small consolation for being stuck here. What a day. I've spent all morning listening to Great Auntie Black telling me what a great servant to the Dark Lord I would make. She keeps talking about my breeding and my upbringing, and how perfect I would be. The more she talks though, the more I don't like this. I mean, I want to serve, right? My father would want that. He serves the Dark Lord. How else would I ever make him proud? And besides, I don't like Mudbloods either. Especially Granger. She keeps beating me at everything. My father keeps saying that if I let myself be bested by a Mudblood, I'm a disgrace. She's too good though! It's not fair! How will I ever be good enough?
But then, Auntie Black was talking about killing Mudbloods, and how the Dark Lord thought that was the best solution: just to get rid of them. I don't know about that. I mean, maybe someone else, but I don't want to do it. I'd have to let them all think I want the Mudbloods dead. All of them. And I do! But I don't want to do it. I don't know if I could. I just don't know.
There's a lot of influence that comes with the Dark Mark, my father says. Power. Even with the Dark Lord diminished as he is, those who bear his mark still carry that power for him. And he'll come back, my father says. And when the time comes, either you're with him, or against him. And it's much better to be on his side when the time comes. I hope.
Harry couldn't quite believe what he was reading. Even as young as the age of twelve, Draco knew this much about his fate? And he was already scared? And wavering in his convictions? This was too much to believe. Swallowing convulsively against the lump that was growing in his throat, Harry continued.
I don't know if anyone will ever find this... I kinda hope someone will. I'm going to leave the diary here. So... whoever finds this... if someday, you know a Draco Malfoy, and he's in some sort of trouble, because he couldn't carry out the Dark Lord's wishes... help him out, please? Because as much as I'd like to think that when the time comes, I'll be ready, I don't think I will be. Not that I'd think the right person would ever find this, of course. Hell, I might be signing my own death certificate by writing this and leaving it in Auntie's house, but I don't care. Whoever finds this is meant to find it, and it will be the right person.
By now, Harry found that he was hardly breathing.
Oh, I did get one other thing for my birthday. Auntie Black gave me this funny pendant on a chain. She said it used to be Uncle Regulus's, but she didn't want it anymore. She said he had wanted to serve the Dark Lord, but he was a coward, and was killed. She said I'd do better than him, and that he'd brought home the pendant just before his death. She thought it might bring me luck. It feels warm, like there's a lot of magic in it. I think I'll wear it from now on... whether that ties me to the same fate as Uncle Regulus, or gives me luck.
Anyhow, I think that's my Auntie calling me. Who knows? I might even get a damned birthday cake. Happy birthday to me.
~Draco
Harry sat up. He skimmed through the entry again. This was Draco, all right. And he'd left this diary for the "right person" to find. Someone who could help him. But Harry couldn't help, could he?
He thought back to his last good look at Malfoy. Scared, trembling, trying desperately to live up to his expectations, and failing miserably. And now, certainly, the Dark Lord was threatening to kill him, after such a spectacular failure. No, Draco didn't have the composition of a Death Eater. And perhaps, after his encounter with Dumbledore... there might be something salvageable there.
But Harry didn't have time for rescue missions for junior Death Eaters. He had to find the Horcruxes.
And then it hit him. So disgustingly obvious. Harry read the last part of the journal entry again. And again. Regulus Black's pendant. Regulus Augustus Black. R.A.B.
Time seemed to freeze. Draco had one of the Horcruxes. And now, Harry had to find him before Voldemort found out, killed Draco, and took back the Horcrux. And he had to do it now.
Hearing nothing but the blood rushing through his ears in heavy pulses, Harry scrambled off the bed, clutching the diary tightly, and burst out the door. He had no idea where to begin, but now, he had only one mission: Get Draco.
At the bottom of the stairs, Harry skidded to a sudden stop, and blinked in shock. When did Malfoy become "Draco"? He shook his head. He'd worry about that later.
*~FIN~*
And there you have it... the plot bunny I should have written and developed a year ago. Where the hell does time go? *sigh*
Anyhow, I do have plans now to finish several started fics (including some smut), and begin another novel-length. And I SWEAR, I will do it now. I miss writing so much, I can't begin to explain. Lately, I just haven't had the energy, or the ability to concentrate on it. I will soon. And I also promise to post a proper write-up of Lumos! Yes, my lovelies... much fun was had at Lumos. Oh, my fandom, how I love thee...
~Mijan