Round 1, Challenge 5- Drabbles and Voting!
My apologies for the delay in getting this post up. I was caught off-guard by snow this morning and I didn't have enough time before work to get the post up after cleaning off my car.
Behind the cut you will find the drabbles for our Scars challenge.
You must vote for both your Favorite and Least Favorite Drabble for your vote to count.
When voting please list both the number assigned to the drabble as well as it's title.
If you are a participant, you may vote but you may not vote for yourself or specifically tell others to go vote for your drabble.
All voters are asked to base the decisions for their vote upon the quality and the creativity of the writing. You should never vote against a drabble solely because it contains Het, Gen, or Slash elements, or because the chosen pairing isn't something you usually care for.
Voting will remain open until I wake up on Sunday morning, at which point I will tally the votes and announce the winner of this challenge.
Good luck to all our participants, and have fun voting!
#1.
Title: Like Father, Like Daughter
Author:
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Angst
Featured Characters/Pairings: Ron, Rose
Word Count: 500
Author's Notes: None
Of all the things in life he had prepared himself for, this was not one of them. He supposed he should have done, his daughter was a Ministry Hit Witch and risk came hand in hand with the job. He had more confidence in her than she had in herself, but he knew she was only human and therefore, could make a mistake at any time.
Not that the fact she was lying in St. Mungo's barely alive was her fault. No, a spell had veered off course when the caster had been hit themselves and had sent the curse straight at Rose.
He wished Snape had never invented that damn spell.
He made himself look at the bright red lines that snaked around her shoulder, up her neck and across her jaw to her ear. Tears filled his eyes and he cried silently as he held her hand.
'Don't cry, Dad,' she whispered, though he barely heard it.
Relief that she was awake filled him like a drug through his veins.
'Rose!' he whispered back.
'I'm still alive, then,' she said, her voice still quite but her wit returning.
He nodded.
'What's the damage?' she asked, her voice cracking.
He cleared his throat.
'Um... well, you were hit by the Sectumsempra curse and lost more blood than you should have done. They gave you Blood Replenishing Potion and you'll be weak for a while but there shouldn't be any lasting damage... except...'
He glanced at her scars. She tried to follow his eyes but was obviously reluctant to move her head.
'Except...' she prompted.
'There'll be scars, Rose. I'm sorry.'
'Scars? Is that all? Dad, I thought you were going to tell me I couldn't go back to work because they'd had to amputate my arm or something!"
Her voice was strong again and a smile pulled at her lips.
'But Rose...' He didn't know what to say, but he wanted to prepare her in some way.
'Dad, I learnt a long time ago that scars show that the person with them is brave, courageous, didn't take the easy way out or did what they knew to be right even if it meant giving up their own happiness. Do you know who taught me that?'
He looked at her with tears in his eyes, not because of what had happened to his daughter, but because of how proud of her she was. He shrugged. She chuckled.
'You, Dad. Every time I looked at your scars I knew how brilliant my dad was and I hoped to be that brave when the time came.'
He smiled.
'You know there are other professions less life threatening but equally as brave, Rose.'
'I know, but I love this one.'
He nodded.
'I know you do, just remember your promise to me, yeah?'
She nodded.
'I'll get out when I need to, situation and career.'
'That's my girl.'
He took her hand and squeezed. She squeezed back.
'They're not lightning shaped are they?'
#2.
Title: I know a man who knows a man who knows a spell
Author:
Rating: PG
Warnings: Ambiguity
Featured Characters/Pairings: Ron and his loved ones
Word Count: 250
Author's Notes: It's up to you who the narrator is.
He might never tell anyone who did it and I can live with that.
As long as he's still here I can live with not knowing who almost took him away for good.
Every day that passes he gets a little better and smiles a lot more.
I can't remember him not being scarred and sometimes I forget that those lines on his arms are scars and not a tattoo.
They told us he would be scarred for life and Bill and Harry shrugged it off, said that was not as big a deal as people who aren't scared for life think it is.
George joked that Ron had been scared for life from the first moment Fred held him as a baby.
Hermione became alarmingly vengeful. She wanted blood. She wanted to make the culprits beg for forgiveness. I'd never seen her quite so...well quite so Ron.
He's been through a lot. He's worried all these people a lot in the past too. They fall into a routine. A Ron almost died routine. This is my first Ron almost dying and I'm not doing it again.
They all probably said that but I mean it.
There's some dark magic out there, I know some dodgy characters, and I'll break the law to do what has to be done.
If he's cut, I'll bleed. If he's struck, I'll fall. If he's hit with a fatal curse, I'll die.
He'll be furious.
But he'll be bloody careful.
Bring on the scars.
#3.
Title: Scarred for Life
Author:
Rating: PG for innuendo
Warnings: Um...abuse of Quidditch terminology?
Featured Characters/Pairings: Ron, Harry, implied Ron/Hermione
Word Count: 491
Author's Notes: Ron and Harry remind us that nobody's perfect - physically or otherwise.
“Ron?”
Oh shite, didn’t lock the door.
“Ron? Are you up here?” That’s Harry, and he’s getting closer! Better dive for the nearest piece of cloth-
“Ron, have you seen where I left my-”
Bugger.
Harry pushes open the door and stops dead just inside it, goggling slightly before composing his face into a smirk almost instantly. Bastard. “Ron, is there any particular reason why you’re stark naked in your bedroom in the middle of the day…holding a Gryffindor scarf over your bits?”
“Shut it, Harry,” I growl. The git has the nerve to simply smirk again and lean against the door, which he has mercifully shut. “I’m a bit on edge, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“What about?”
Without losing my grip on the scarf, I lunged for my pants and trousers, which were lying on the bed where they’d landed earlier, and pulled them on. Sitting down but leaving my shirt off, I took a deep breath and answered him. “Hermione and I are finally going to have s-”
“Ahhh no!!” he clapped his hands over his ears and scrunched his eyes tightly closed. “Do you want to scar me for life? Use the terms we agreed upon…you promised!!”
“Fine,” I sighed, rolling my eyes at him since I knew he couldn’t see me. “Hermione and I are finally going to…perform the Woollongong Shimmy-”
“Thank you.” He un-scrunched.
“-and I’m afraid that she’s going to take one look at my pasty, scarred, freckled, skinny mess of a body and run screaming,” I said it all quickly, embarrassed to admit as much to my best mate. We don’t usually talk about things like this so openly. He seemed to understand how serious I was though, because after a moment of just gaping at me, he sat down on the camp bed across the way.
After thinking for a minute, he looked at me and sighed. “Ron, don’t be a prat.”
“Excuse me?”
“She’s not going to run screaming.”
“But-”
“She’s not. Look, it’s Hermione…who you’ve known forever-”
“Exactly Harry. It’ll be awful if after everything we’ve been through, this,” I gestured vaguely at myself, “ruins it without even trying.”
“-and she’s known you forever…freckles, scars, skinny arse and all.” He finished with a small nod, as if very pleased with himself. “Hell, if it’s scars you’re worried about, she knows how you got those,” he gestured to the long spirals encircling my arms, “she fixed that,” he pointed at the splinching scar on my arm, “and she gave you those,” he jabbed his finger in the direction of the minuscule beak-marks that dotted the backs of my hands. “She knows you, Ron.”
We were quiet for a moment; I was thinking about what he’d said, and I couldn’t quite bring myself to look him in the eye.“I am being a prat, aren’t I?”
“No more than usual.”
“Oi!” I chucked a pillow at him, and we laughed. “Thanks, Harry.”
“Anytime.”
#4.
Title: Who's The Bravest Of Them All
Author:
Rating: G
Warnings: -
Featured Characters/Pairings: Rose and James
Word Count: 354
"It's not much of a scar," a young and very weary voice says, in the garden.
"Rose, it's the best scar in the world," another young voice scoffs.
"James, it's not even the best scar in the family," his cousin replies.
Standing at the kitchen sink, Ron meets Harry's eyes, which are baffled, beneath the most famous scar in the world.
"What's that supposed to mean?" James demands.
"It's just a pathetic little zig zag," Rose says sadly.
"Daddy was only a baby when he got it, and he nearly died," James says reverently.
"Babies don't even know that they've nearly died," Rose says dismissively and Ron nods smugly at his brother-in-law, "and they don't fight bad men, anyway, they just sit there. My Daddy was all grown up when he got his scar and he fought an evil brain."
"A brain?" James asks, sounding less than convinced.
"Everyone else was fighting wizards," Rose says, breathlessly, "and an evil brain flew through the air and my Daddy was trapped inside it."
"How?" James asks.
"Good question," Harry whispers.
"Shut up," Ron whispers back.
"No one else was brave enough to fight it," Rose says impressively. "It wrapped its thoughts round him and tried to stuficate him, and his arms and chest are covered in fantastic scars, like he's tied up in ropes."
"Hmmm," James says.
"You've seen them," Rose prompts.
"Yeah," James admits. "I s'pose they're cool."
"They're brilliant," Rose says firmly.
"I s'pose Uncle Ron is pretty brave," James says.
"I don't know anyone else who has beaten a brain," Rose says.
"That's no way to talk about her mother," Harry murmurs.
Ron snorts and both children look up, startled, before waving to their fathers and wandering off in search of gnomes.
"Well," Ron says, rubbing the back of his neck as he watches her go. "That was... well."
"You're her hero," Harry suggests.
Ron shrugs.
"I don't even know where she got that story from," he says. "I've never told her."
"I may have mentioned how brave her daddy was," Harry admits. "As usual someone has to blow your trumpet for you."
#5.
Title: Ron's Very Own Scar
Author:
Rating: R, for swearing
Warnings: None.
Featured Characters/Pairings: Ron, Harry, Sirius
Word Count: 490
Author's Notes: Italicised text at the beginning is from Goblet of Fire, pgs. 335-336, US ed.
Harry seized one of the POTTER REALLY STINKS badges off the table and chucked it, as hard as he could, across the room. It hit Ron on the forehead and bounced off.
“There you go,” Harry said. “Something for you to wear on Tuesday. You might even have a scar now, if you’re lucky. . . . That’s what you want, isn’t it?”
"No, that's not what I want," said Ron after Harry had disappeared. He touched his forehead and drew back his hand to see a small smear of blood. "Brilliant," he said, flopping down onto the nearest armchair.
"You don't really think he put his name in the Goblet, do you, Ron?"
"For fuck's--" Ron began, heart pounding wildly. Sirius's head was in the fire. He raised a disembodied finger to his lips, and Ron easily obeyed, momentarily stunned into silence.
"What're you doing here?" he asked when he regained his voice, now knowing who Harry'd been talking to.
"Trying to help Harry. What're you doing here?" he asked.
"Just wondering where he was, is all."
"Right," said Sirius, with a knowing grin. "Now answer my first question."
The answer clung to the tip of Ron's tongue, making it hard to spit out. "No, not anymore," he said at last.
"Then apologise for Merlin's sake! Harry needs you!"
The look that Harry'd given him as he'd thrown the badge came back to the forefront of Ron's mind. "Too late for that. He hates me."
"He doesn't."
"You didn't see him just now, Sirius. He--"
"Actually, I did. And d'you wanna know what I saw? A bloke who misses his best mate terribly, that's what."
Hope began to sprout in Ron's chest, but he thought of how vile he'd been, and shook his head. "I dunno."
Sirius grew quite solemn. "Well I do." His voice was barely above a whisper. "I miss James every single day, Ron. I would do anything, anything for the chance to--" he stopped abruptly and blinked several times. "Trust me, Ron. You mean the world to Harry. It's cutting him up, the two of you fighting like this."
Maybe Sirius was right. But apologising wouldn't be easy. Ron wasn't sure if Harry would even give him the chance to get close enough to do it.
Sirius cleared his throat expectantly and Ron grinned. "All right then," said Sirius, beaming. "I'd better go. Don't forget what I said, Ron. Harry needs you."
Ron nodded, watching as Sirius's face dissolved into the flickering logs. He felt his forehead again, and the tiny scratch was already starting to scab over. Mulling over scenario after scenario, he imagined ways to say he was sorry, each more ridiculous than the next. There had to be a way to do it, and damn it, Ron was determined to find it.
Because he'd finally been able to admit to himself how much he needed Harry, too.
#6.
Title:More Than Skin Deep
Author:
Rating:PG
Warnings:None
Featured Characters/Pairings:Gen, Ron/Hermione, Bill/Fleur mentioned
Word Count:500
Author's Notes: n/a
When Ron first met Harry, he thought that his scar was pretty much the coolest thing ever. While Harry seemed determined to ignore others' morbid curiosity, Ron watched with fascination as people reverently stared at his friend's forehead. Really, it was wicked, as far as scars went. But with age and maturity, Ron came to realize that scars, more often than not, went deeper than the surface of the skin.
Harry's was the perfect example. Symbolic of a victory for some, it wasn't until years later that even Harry himself realized that his scar was symbolic, not just of his parents' sacrifice, but of the fact that he'd been touched by evil. Sometimes the scar itself seemed to have a sentience: it tortured, tempted and pained him. Even now, in middle age, it stayed with him--a reminder of all he'd endured and the fact that he hadn't come out of his adventures undamaged.
George's scar, though it was acquired some time before the day that his heart was ripped in half, sort of fit him, too. George was missing that voice that had always whispered to him of mischief and merriment, and he would never be the same again.
Bill had been the family's golden child, and his face had won him the hearts of pretty much anyone he favored with his devastating grin, including the most beautiful creature any of them had ever seen. But it wasn't until he lost his physical beauty that his true worth was revealed, not to mention hers.
Lavender had been easily dismissed (and by himself as much as anyone) as a bit of fluff with a pretty face and great tits. But she wore her scars as badges of honour now, daring anyone to dismiss her as useless. She'd fought a monster and lived to tell about it. As far as Ron was concerned, she'd never been as beautiful.
Hermione's scars were not as easy to spot, at least if you weren't married to her, but the scar on her abdomen from a Death Eater's curse was to have unexpected repercussions for years to come as they'd struggled to become parents. Perhaps the bastard, (if he had been thinking about what he was doing and not throwing out random curses) had meant to make certain that this particular Mudblood couldn't pass on her impurity. They had underestimated his girl, though, as Rose and Hugo were living proof of her determination.
:
And as for himself, his scars were daily reminders: not to act without thinking (brain tentacles), not to work himself into such a state that he forgot his own abilities (eyebrow) and that his wife, brilliant as she was, tended to panic under pressure (splinch). His scars were a road map of his adventures, and he wore them with pride. Plus, his kids thought they were wicked, and having your kids think you're a hero was pretty much the coolest thing ever.
#7.
Title: Not Really A Surprise
Author:
Rating: G
Warnings: none
Featured Characters/Pairings: Ron, Harry, Draco
Word Count: 203
"I don't have a scar," Ron says unexpectedly one night, when he, Harry, and Malfoy are sitting in a dark pub waiting for an informant to arrive.
"What are you going on about, Weasel?" Malfoy says, tilting his chair back and glaring at Ron.
"Well, I don't," Ron says. He holds his arm out to Malfoy, who promptly takes it and runs his fingers over it. "After all I've done in the war and now I've been an Auror for three years, and I still don't have any war wounds."
"War wounds," Malfoy snorts, shoving Ron's arm away. "Who are you trying to impress?"
"Does it really matter to you, mate?" Harry asks.
Ron gives Harry a sideways glance then looks back at Malfoy. "I'm not trying to impress anyone. I'm making an observation. I must be very good at what I do."
"Lucky, you mean," Malfoy says.
"Skilled," Ron shoots back.
"Lucky."
"Skilled," Ron says, leaning forward to meet Malfoy.
"I say you're lucky, Weasel, and that's all there is to it."
Malfoy and Ron are nearly nose to nose now, and Harry, marveling at this, their latest display of really bad misdirection, says, "Stop flirting or I'll give you both scars."
#8.
Title: Ubbly's Oblivious Unction
Author:
Rating: pg-13
Warnings: angst and theme of addiction
Featured Characters/Pairings: Ron/Hermione
Word Count: 499
Author's Notes: none
Standing in front of the mirror, Ron Weasley could trace a map around his body of nicks, scrapes and spirraled marks. They were his testimony to courage, acknowlegment of sacrifce, a glaring reminder of all his stupidities.
He knew all about scars. He learned through Harry how they can define you. He learned from his father how they can fester and burn when you dare experiement with things you shouldn't. If his brother losing an ear had been the only scar he aquired during the war, Ron would've learned how sometimes you can laugh through anything. But it was the other scar that weighed on George; marred him in unseen but unforgettable ways, like he'd lost limbs and vital organs, yet was still required to function and carry on. From him Ron learned that it's the scars you can't see that mean the most.
Yes, he knew scars well. He knew the ones that belong to you are rarely the most powerful or cause the most suffering and pain. That was the lesson he'd learned from the one he loved more than anything. It was the night terrors and vacant, drifting stares of his Hermione that had reminded him so vividly of what Madam Pomfrey had said about his own first scars. "Thoughts could leave deeper scarring than almost anything else."
He knew what Hermione thought of on those nights she woke up screaming and couldn't stop, no matter how many cooling strokes of a spelled cloth he applied. He heard the Crucio in her thoughts just as loudly as she did.
The first time he made the potion for her, it had been just the idea of soothing her, giving them both a night of dreamless slumber and nothing more. He hadn't given much thought to side-effects or the burning need it could cause. He'd just remembered how it had helped him after the brains' attack, how it quieted the thoughts, eased his overworked mind and allowed him to think. He'd learned how to make it for himself while at Shell Cottage, when he was once again haunted by voices and thoughts that didn't belong to him. It had helped tremendously. He'd almost been able to forget what he had done, how he let those thoughts, those scars drive him away, turned him to a coward, lost him everything.
He held the spoon to her lips and told her it would help. Her hands were shaking, so he held it to her lips, his other hand behind her head, guiding her. She slept through the night and woke up rested and self-assured again. After that it was alteast once a week she'd ask, then it was almost nightly. It was okay, if it helped her get some peace, he would do anything. When she started forgetting things, he first thought it was stress manifesting itself in a different fashion. It was when she forgot his name that he learned.
Sometimes the cure left the worst scars of all.
Poll Round 1, Challenge 5- Scars
Behind the cut you will find the drabbles for our Scars challenge.
#1.
Title: Like Father, Like Daughter
Author:
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Angst
Featured Characters/Pairings: Ron, Rose
Word Count: 500
Author's Notes: None
Of all the things in life he had prepared himself for, this was not one of them. He supposed he should have done, his daughter was a Ministry Hit Witch and risk came hand in hand with the job. He had more confidence in her than she had in herself, but he knew she was only human and therefore, could make a mistake at any time.
Not that the fact she was lying in St. Mungo's barely alive was her fault. No, a spell had veered off course when the caster had been hit themselves and had sent the curse straight at Rose.
He wished Snape had never invented that damn spell.
He made himself look at the bright red lines that snaked around her shoulder, up her neck and across her jaw to her ear. Tears filled his eyes and he cried silently as he held her hand.
'Don't cry, Dad,' she whispered, though he barely heard it.
Relief that she was awake filled him like a drug through his veins.
'Rose!' he whispered back.
'I'm still alive, then,' she said, her voice still quite but her wit returning.
He nodded.
'What's the damage?' she asked, her voice cracking.
He cleared his throat.
'Um... well, you were hit by the Sectumsempra curse and lost more blood than you should have done. They gave you Blood Replenishing Potion and you'll be weak for a while but there shouldn't be any lasting damage... except...'
He glanced at her scars. She tried to follow his eyes but was obviously reluctant to move her head.
'Except...' she prompted.
'There'll be scars, Rose. I'm sorry.'
'Scars? Is that all? Dad, I thought you were going to tell me I couldn't go back to work because they'd had to amputate my arm or something!"
Her voice was strong again and a smile pulled at her lips.
'But Rose...' He didn't know what to say, but he wanted to prepare her in some way.
'Dad, I learnt a long time ago that scars show that the person with them is brave, courageous, didn't take the easy way out or did what they knew to be right even if it meant giving up their own happiness. Do you know who taught me that?'
He looked at her with tears in his eyes, not because of what had happened to his daughter, but because of how proud of her she was. He shrugged. She chuckled.
'You, Dad. Every time I looked at your scars I knew how brilliant my dad was and I hoped to be that brave when the time came.'
He smiled.
'You know there are other professions less life threatening but equally as brave, Rose.'
'I know, but I love this one.'
He nodded.
'I know you do, just remember your promise to me, yeah?'
She nodded.
'I'll get out when I need to, situation and career.'
'That's my girl.'
He took her hand and squeezed. She squeezed back.
'They're not lightning shaped are they?'
#2.
Title: I know a man who knows a man who knows a spell
Author:
Rating: PG
Warnings: Ambiguity
Featured Characters/Pairings: Ron and his loved ones
Word Count: 250
Author's Notes: It's up to you who the narrator is.
He might never tell anyone who did it and I can live with that.
As long as he's still here I can live with not knowing who almost took him away for good.
Every day that passes he gets a little better and smiles a lot more.
I can't remember him not being scarred and sometimes I forget that those lines on his arms are scars and not a tattoo.
They told us he would be scarred for life and Bill and Harry shrugged it off, said that was not as big a deal as people who aren't scared for life think it is.
George joked that Ron had been scared for life from the first moment Fred held him as a baby.
Hermione became alarmingly vengeful. She wanted blood. She wanted to make the culprits beg for forgiveness. I'd never seen her quite so...well quite so Ron.
He's been through a lot. He's worried all these people a lot in the past too. They fall into a routine. A Ron almost died routine. This is my first Ron almost dying and I'm not doing it again.
They all probably said that but I mean it.
There's some dark magic out there, I know some dodgy characters, and I'll break the law to do what has to be done.
If he's cut, I'll bleed. If he's struck, I'll fall. If he's hit with a fatal curse, I'll die.
He'll be furious.
But he'll be bloody careful.
Bring on the scars.
#3.
Title: Scarred for Life
Author:
Rating: PG for innuendo
Warnings: Um...abuse of Quidditch terminology?
Featured Characters/Pairings: Ron, Harry, implied Ron/Hermione
Word Count: 491
Author's Notes: Ron and Harry remind us that nobody's perfect - physically or otherwise.
“Ron?”
Oh shite, didn’t lock the door.
“Ron? Are you up here?” That’s Harry, and he’s getting closer! Better dive for the nearest piece of cloth-
“Ron, have you seen where I left my-”
Bugger.
Harry pushes open the door and stops dead just inside it, goggling slightly before composing his face into a smirk almost instantly. Bastard. “Ron, is there any particular reason why you’re stark naked in your bedroom in the middle of the day…holding a Gryffindor scarf over your bits?”
“Shut it, Harry,” I growl. The git has the nerve to simply smirk again and lean against the door, which he has mercifully shut. “I’m a bit on edge, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“What about?”
Without losing my grip on the scarf, I lunged for my pants and trousers, which were lying on the bed where they’d landed earlier, and pulled them on. Sitting down but leaving my shirt off, I took a deep breath and answered him. “Hermione and I are finally going to have s-”
“Ahhh no!!” he clapped his hands over his ears and scrunched his eyes tightly closed. “Do you want to scar me for life? Use the terms we agreed upon…you promised!!”
“Fine,” I sighed, rolling my eyes at him since I knew he couldn’t see me. “Hermione and I are finally going to…perform the Woollongong Shimmy-”
“Thank you.” He un-scrunched.
“-and I’m afraid that she’s going to take one look at my pasty, scarred, freckled, skinny mess of a body and run screaming,” I said it all quickly, embarrassed to admit as much to my best mate. We don’t usually talk about things like this so openly. He seemed to understand how serious I was though, because after a moment of just gaping at me, he sat down on the camp bed across the way.
After thinking for a minute, he looked at me and sighed. “Ron, don’t be a prat.”
“Excuse me?”
“She’s not going to run screaming.”
“But-”
“She’s not. Look, it’s Hermione…who you’ve known forever-”
“Exactly Harry. It’ll be awful if after everything we’ve been through, this,” I gestured vaguely at myself, “ruins it without even trying.”
“-and she’s known you forever…freckles, scars, skinny arse and all.” He finished with a small nod, as if very pleased with himself. “Hell, if it’s scars you’re worried about, she knows how you got those,” he gestured to the long spirals encircling my arms, “she fixed that,” he pointed at the splinching scar on my arm, “and she gave you those,” he jabbed his finger in the direction of the minuscule beak-marks that dotted the backs of my hands. “She knows you, Ron.”
We were quiet for a moment; I was thinking about what he’d said, and I couldn’t quite bring myself to look him in the eye.“I am being a prat, aren’t I?”
“No more than usual.”
“Oi!” I chucked a pillow at him, and we laughed. “Thanks, Harry.”
“Anytime.”
#4.
Title: Who's The Bravest Of Them All
Author:
Rating: G
Warnings: -
Featured Characters/Pairings: Rose and James
Word Count: 354
"It's not much of a scar," a young and very weary voice says, in the garden.
"Rose, it's the best scar in the world," another young voice scoffs.
"James, it's not even the best scar in the family," his cousin replies.
Standing at the kitchen sink, Ron meets Harry's eyes, which are baffled, beneath the most famous scar in the world.
"What's that supposed to mean?" James demands.
"It's just a pathetic little zig zag," Rose says sadly.
"Daddy was only a baby when he got it, and he nearly died," James says reverently.
"Babies don't even know that they've nearly died," Rose says dismissively and Ron nods smugly at his brother-in-law, "and they don't fight bad men, anyway, they just sit there. My Daddy was all grown up when he got his scar and he fought an evil brain."
"A brain?" James asks, sounding less than convinced.
"Everyone else was fighting wizards," Rose says, breathlessly, "and an evil brain flew through the air and my Daddy was trapped inside it."
"How?" James asks.
"Good question," Harry whispers.
"Shut up," Ron whispers back.
"No one else was brave enough to fight it," Rose says impressively. "It wrapped its thoughts round him and tried to stuficate him, and his arms and chest are covered in fantastic scars, like he's tied up in ropes."
"Hmmm," James says.
"You've seen them," Rose prompts.
"Yeah," James admits. "I s'pose they're cool."
"They're brilliant," Rose says firmly.
"I s'pose Uncle Ron is pretty brave," James says.
"I don't know anyone else who has beaten a brain," Rose says.
"That's no way to talk about her mother," Harry murmurs.
Ron snorts and both children look up, startled, before waving to their fathers and wandering off in search of gnomes.
"Well," Ron says, rubbing the back of his neck as he watches her go. "That was... well."
"You're her hero," Harry suggests.
Ron shrugs.
"I don't even know where she got that story from," he says. "I've never told her."
"I may have mentioned how brave her daddy was," Harry admits. "As usual someone has to blow your trumpet for you."
#5.
Title: Ron's Very Own Scar
Author:
Rating: R, for swearing
Warnings: None.
Featured Characters/Pairings: Ron, Harry, Sirius
Word Count: 490
Author's Notes: Italicised text at the beginning is from Goblet of Fire, pgs. 335-336, US ed.
Harry seized one of the POTTER REALLY STINKS badges off the table and chucked it, as hard as he could, across the room. It hit Ron on the forehead and bounced off.
“There you go,” Harry said. “Something for you to wear on Tuesday. You might even have a scar now, if you’re lucky. . . . That’s what you want, isn’t it?”
"No, that's not what I want," said Ron after Harry had disappeared. He touched his forehead and drew back his hand to see a small smear of blood. "Brilliant," he said, flopping down onto the nearest armchair.
"You don't really think he put his name in the Goblet, do you, Ron?"
"For fuck's--" Ron began, heart pounding wildly. Sirius's head was in the fire. He raised a disembodied finger to his lips, and Ron easily obeyed, momentarily stunned into silence.
"What're you doing here?" he asked when he regained his voice, now knowing who Harry'd been talking to.
"Trying to help Harry. What're you doing here?" he asked.
"Just wondering where he was, is all."
"Right," said Sirius, with a knowing grin. "Now answer my first question."
The answer clung to the tip of Ron's tongue, making it hard to spit out. "No, not anymore," he said at last.
"Then apologise for Merlin's sake! Harry needs you!"
The look that Harry'd given him as he'd thrown the badge came back to the forefront of Ron's mind. "Too late for that. He hates me."
"He doesn't."
"You didn't see him just now, Sirius. He--"
"Actually, I did. And d'you wanna know what I saw? A bloke who misses his best mate terribly, that's what."
Hope began to sprout in Ron's chest, but he thought of how vile he'd been, and shook his head. "I dunno."
Sirius grew quite solemn. "Well I do." His voice was barely above a whisper. "I miss James every single day, Ron. I would do anything, anything for the chance to--" he stopped abruptly and blinked several times. "Trust me, Ron. You mean the world to Harry. It's cutting him up, the two of you fighting like this."
Maybe Sirius was right. But apologising wouldn't be easy. Ron wasn't sure if Harry would even give him the chance to get close enough to do it.
Sirius cleared his throat expectantly and Ron grinned. "All right then," said Sirius, beaming. "I'd better go. Don't forget what I said, Ron. Harry needs you."
Ron nodded, watching as Sirius's face dissolved into the flickering logs. He felt his forehead again, and the tiny scratch was already starting to scab over. Mulling over scenario after scenario, he imagined ways to say he was sorry, each more ridiculous than the next. There had to be a way to do it, and damn it, Ron was determined to find it.
Because he'd finally been able to admit to himself how much he needed Harry, too.
#6.
Title:More Than Skin Deep
Author:
Rating:PG
Warnings:None
Featured Characters/Pairings:Gen, Ron/Hermione, Bill/Fleur mentioned
Word Count:500
Author's Notes: n/a
When Ron first met Harry, he thought that his scar was pretty much the coolest thing ever. While Harry seemed determined to ignore others' morbid curiosity, Ron watched with fascination as people reverently stared at his friend's forehead. Really, it was wicked, as far as scars went. But with age and maturity, Ron came to realize that scars, more often than not, went deeper than the surface of the skin.
Harry's was the perfect example. Symbolic of a victory for some, it wasn't until years later that even Harry himself realized that his scar was symbolic, not just of his parents' sacrifice, but of the fact that he'd been touched by evil. Sometimes the scar itself seemed to have a sentience: it tortured, tempted and pained him. Even now, in middle age, it stayed with him--a reminder of all he'd endured and the fact that he hadn't come out of his adventures undamaged.
George's scar, though it was acquired some time before the day that his heart was ripped in half, sort of fit him, too. George was missing that voice that had always whispered to him of mischief and merriment, and he would never be the same again.
Bill had been the family's golden child, and his face had won him the hearts of pretty much anyone he favored with his devastating grin, including the most beautiful creature any of them had ever seen. But it wasn't until he lost his physical beauty that his true worth was revealed, not to mention hers.
Lavender had been easily dismissed (and by himself as much as anyone) as a bit of fluff with a pretty face and great tits. But she wore her scars as badges of honour now, daring anyone to dismiss her as useless. She'd fought a monster and lived to tell about it. As far as Ron was concerned, she'd never been as beautiful.
Hermione's scars were not as easy to spot, at least if you weren't married to her, but the scar on her abdomen from a Death Eater's curse was to have unexpected repercussions for years to come as they'd struggled to become parents. Perhaps the bastard, (if he had been thinking about what he was doing and not throwing out random curses) had meant to make certain that this particular Mudblood couldn't pass on her impurity. They had underestimated his girl, though, as Rose and Hugo were living proof of her determination.
:
And as for himself, his scars were daily reminders: not to act without thinking (brain tentacles), not to work himself into such a state that he forgot his own abilities (eyebrow) and that his wife, brilliant as she was, tended to panic under pressure (splinch). His scars were a road map of his adventures, and he wore them with pride. Plus, his kids thought they were wicked, and having your kids think you're a hero was pretty much the coolest thing ever.
#7.
Title: Not Really A Surprise
Author:
Rating: G
Warnings: none
Featured Characters/Pairings: Ron, Harry, Draco
Word Count: 203
"I don't have a scar," Ron says unexpectedly one night, when he, Harry, and Malfoy are sitting in a dark pub waiting for an informant to arrive.
"What are you going on about, Weasel?" Malfoy says, tilting his chair back and glaring at Ron.
"Well, I don't," Ron says. He holds his arm out to Malfoy, who promptly takes it and runs his fingers over it. "After all I've done in the war and now I've been an Auror for three years, and I still don't have any war wounds."
"War wounds," Malfoy snorts, shoving Ron's arm away. "Who are you trying to impress?"
"Does it really matter to you, mate?" Harry asks.
Ron gives Harry a sideways glance then looks back at Malfoy. "I'm not trying to impress anyone. I'm making an observation. I must be very good at what I do."
"Lucky, you mean," Malfoy says.
"Skilled," Ron shoots back.
"Lucky."
"Skilled," Ron says, leaning forward to meet Malfoy.
"I say you're lucky, Weasel, and that's all there is to it."
Malfoy and Ron are nearly nose to nose now, and Harry, marveling at this, their latest display of really bad misdirection, says, "Stop flirting or I'll give you both scars."
#8.
Title: Ubbly's Oblivious Unction
Author:
Rating: pg-13
Warnings: angst and theme of addiction
Featured Characters/Pairings: Ron/Hermione
Word Count: 499
Author's Notes: none
Standing in front of the mirror, Ron Weasley could trace a map around his body of nicks, scrapes and spirraled marks. They were his testimony to courage, acknowlegment of sacrifce, a glaring reminder of all his stupidities.
He knew all about scars. He learned through Harry how they can define you. He learned from his father how they can fester and burn when you dare experiement with things you shouldn't. If his brother losing an ear had been the only scar he aquired during the war, Ron would've learned how sometimes you can laugh through anything. But it was the other scar that weighed on George; marred him in unseen but unforgettable ways, like he'd lost limbs and vital organs, yet was still required to function and carry on. From him Ron learned that it's the scars you can't see that mean the most.
Yes, he knew scars well. He knew the ones that belong to you are rarely the most powerful or cause the most suffering and pain. That was the lesson he'd learned from the one he loved more than anything. It was the night terrors and vacant, drifting stares of his Hermione that had reminded him so vividly of what Madam Pomfrey had said about his own first scars. "Thoughts could leave deeper scarring than almost anything else."
He knew what Hermione thought of on those nights she woke up screaming and couldn't stop, no matter how many cooling strokes of a spelled cloth he applied. He heard the Crucio in her thoughts just as loudly as she did.
The first time he made the potion for her, it had been just the idea of soothing her, giving them both a night of dreamless slumber and nothing more. He hadn't given much thought to side-effects or the burning need it could cause. He'd just remembered how it had helped him after the brains' attack, how it quieted the thoughts, eased his overworked mind and allowed him to think. He'd learned how to make it for himself while at Shell Cottage, when he was once again haunted by voices and thoughts that didn't belong to him. It had helped tremendously. He'd almost been able to forget what he had done, how he let those thoughts, those scars drive him away, turned him to a coward, lost him everything.
He held the spoon to her lips and told her it would help. Her hands were shaking, so he held it to her lips, his other hand behind her head, guiding her. She slept through the night and woke up rested and self-assured again. After that it was alteast once a week she'd ask, then it was almost nightly. It was okay, if it helped her get some peace, he would do anything. When she started forgetting things, he first thought it was stress manifesting itself in a different fashion. It was when she forgot his name that he learned.
Sometimes the cure left the worst scars of all.
Poll Round 1, Challenge 5- Scars