RP: Watching the world go by
Date: 25 April 2007
Character(s): Harry Potter
Location: a bench by the river
Status: Private
Summary: Harry reflects on his life and springtime and all that poetic nonsense
Completion: Complete
The last month of Harry's life had been... quiet.
And that was weird. Harry Potter's life had been a great many things, but "quiet" had never been one of them. Not even when he was a kid and he had to put up with Dursleys pounding up and down the stairs under which he slept, or running away so Dudley and his gang wouldn't pound him. And then Hogwarts, which was never dull, even when maniacal wizards weren't out to slice him open and wear his guts for garters. After Hogwarts... well, yeah. Never a quiet moment, even when they were just trying to find the horcruxes.
But this month he'd just been sort of hanging out, really. Working hard every day, jogging a couple of miles four or five days a week with Cocoa at his side, enjoying meals with Hermione and Ron. Visiting old friends like Remus now and again. Building things. Even reading a little. Well, one book, but even so. What he hadn't done was follow through on his grand "I'll date! Girls! A lot!" plans. He'd meant to, he really had, but then his palms got sweaty every time he tried to figure out if he should just stroll into Xanadu or the Five Alarm. Really, how on earth did one find a girl to date? It wasn't like he had a little black scroll full of the names and addresses of eligible young witches he could firecall.
Christ, this was hard. He couldn't just go wandering up to a pretty girl and say, "Hey, baby, want to ride my broomstick?" No fucking way. So instead, he'd done what he had perfect over the last few months. He'd hidden in his room when he wasn't spending time with his friends or working. The good thing, the absolute only upshot, of the whole situation was the lack of dreams about a certain not-female Weasley and how good said Weasley's arse looked in jeans. That, thankfully, seemed to be a thing of the past. Completely and totally.
'Course, he hadn't seen Bill lately either. Not since the full moon last month. He'd wondered whether he should drop by but... Bill hadn't really wanted to see him that day, and Harry didn't want to tempt his twisted subconscious any further. It wasn't cowardice, he was just... tired. A break wasn't the worst thing in the world, even if he did miss Bill as a friend, and someone he could talk to unguardedly about any stupid thing he needed to get off his chest.
Still, Harry was very nearly content right now. And comfortable enough to admit that he was being a coward about the girl thing. So he didn't know anyone he could actually ask out. So what? He could easily go to Xanadu and just ask someone to dance. He could do that. It was spring, right? Time for new hope and regeneration and stuff. He would do it. This weekend.
Or maybe early next week. Next weekend at the latest.
Character(s): Harry Potter
Location: a bench by the river
Status: Private
Summary: Harry reflects on his life and springtime and all that poetic nonsense
Completion: Complete
The last month of Harry's life had been... quiet.
And that was weird. Harry Potter's life had been a great many things, but "quiet" had never been one of them. Not even when he was a kid and he had to put up with Dursleys pounding up and down the stairs under which he slept, or running away so Dudley and his gang wouldn't pound him. And then Hogwarts, which was never dull, even when maniacal wizards weren't out to slice him open and wear his guts for garters. After Hogwarts... well, yeah. Never a quiet moment, even when they were just trying to find the horcruxes.
But this month he'd just been sort of hanging out, really. Working hard every day, jogging a couple of miles four or five days a week with Cocoa at his side, enjoying meals with Hermione and Ron. Visiting old friends like Remus now and again. Building things. Even reading a little. Well, one book, but even so. What he hadn't done was follow through on his grand "I'll date! Girls! A lot!" plans. He'd meant to, he really had, but then his palms got sweaty every time he tried to figure out if he should just stroll into Xanadu or the Five Alarm. Really, how on earth did one find a girl to date? It wasn't like he had a little black scroll full of the names and addresses of eligible young witches he could firecall.
Christ, this was hard. He couldn't just go wandering up to a pretty girl and say, "Hey, baby, want to ride my broomstick?" No fucking way. So instead, he'd done what he had perfect over the last few months. He'd hidden in his room when he wasn't spending time with his friends or working. The good thing, the absolute only upshot, of the whole situation was the lack of dreams about a certain not-female Weasley and how good said Weasley's arse looked in jeans. That, thankfully, seemed to be a thing of the past. Completely and totally.
'Course, he hadn't seen Bill lately either. Not since the full moon last month. He'd wondered whether he should drop by but... Bill hadn't really wanted to see him that day, and Harry didn't want to tempt his twisted subconscious any further. It wasn't cowardice, he was just... tired. A break wasn't the worst thing in the world, even if he did miss Bill as a friend, and someone he could talk to unguardedly about any stupid thing he needed to get off his chest.
Still, Harry was very nearly content right now. And comfortable enough to admit that he was being a coward about the girl thing. So he didn't know anyone he could actually ask out. So what? He could easily go to Xanadu and just ask someone to dance. He could do that. It was spring, right? Time for new hope and regeneration and stuff. He would do it. This weekend.
Or maybe early next week. Next weekend at the latest.