FIC: HP: two Ron-centric drabbles, 'Thestrals' and 'Sometimes'
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of J. K. Rowling’s characters. I am not making any money from these stories.
Title: Thestrals
Summary: After the Battle at the Department of Mysteries, Ron finally understands. Post-OOTP drabble.
Rating: PG for themes of death.
Spoilers: OOTP
A/N: This one is inspired by the film as well as the book.
Thestrals
They’re taller than he’d imagined. Scarier, too. Their bones are as black as his robes, and he can see the mottled green of the forest through the lines of a ribcage, sharp like jagged knives. One leathery wing gives an unnatural lurch, and Ron feels his stomach freeze over.
Something warm presses up against his forearm, and without having to look he knows it's Hermione. They stand there for a moment, breathing the same breaths, before he whispers, “I’m not crazy, am I?”
“No,” she says quietly, elbow brushing his. “No, you’re just as sane as I am.”
Summary: “Sometimes he reaches for two plates at dinner.” Post-DH Weasley-centric drabble.
Pairing: None/Gen
Rating: PG
A/N: Longer than a perfect drabble, but not by much.
Sometimes
Sometimes he pauses mid-sentence like he’s waiting for something. Ron tries to jump in and crack a joke, finish the sentence, but the words always feel forced and empty and he knows he didn’t say the exact right thing, even if he gets close sometimes. Close but no cigar, as the Muggles say.
Sometimes he reaches for two plates at dinner, pausing awkwardly before he puts the second one back. Sometimes he orders two butter beers and then gives one to Ron as if he’d meant to do it all along. Sometimes his spells work half as well, last half as long.
Ron pretends like he doesn’t notice. He drinks the butter beer, takes the second plate, but the beer and the meal always taste funny in his mouth, like they were meant for someone else’s tongue.
A/N: Feedback is always appreciated. Thank you for reading.
Title: Thestrals
Summary: After the Battle at the Department of Mysteries, Ron finally understands. Post-OOTP drabble.
Rating: PG for themes of death.
Spoilers: OOTP
A/N: This one is inspired by the film as well as the book.
Thestrals
They’re taller than he’d imagined. Scarier, too. Their bones are as black as his robes, and he can see the mottled green of the forest through the lines of a ribcage, sharp like jagged knives. One leathery wing gives an unnatural lurch, and Ron feels his stomach freeze over.
Something warm presses up against his forearm, and without having to look he knows it's Hermione. They stand there for a moment, breathing the same breaths, before he whispers, “I’m not crazy, am I?”
“No,” she says quietly, elbow brushing his. “No, you’re just as sane as I am.”
Summary: “Sometimes he reaches for two plates at dinner.” Post-DH Weasley-centric drabble.
Pairing: None/Gen
Rating: PG
A/N: Longer than a perfect drabble, but not by much.
Sometimes
Sometimes he pauses mid-sentence like he’s waiting for something. Ron tries to jump in and crack a joke, finish the sentence, but the words always feel forced and empty and he knows he didn’t say the exact right thing, even if he gets close sometimes. Close but no cigar, as the Muggles say.
Sometimes he reaches for two plates at dinner, pausing awkwardly before he puts the second one back. Sometimes he orders two butter beers and then gives one to Ron as if he’d meant to do it all along. Sometimes his spells work half as well, last half as long.
Ron pretends like he doesn’t notice. He drinks the butter beer, takes the second plate, but the beer and the meal always taste funny in his mouth, like they were meant for someone else’s tongue.
A/N: Feedback is always appreciated. Thank you for reading.