(no subject)
MarkEvans 
is madly in love with
HestiaJones
What's Your OTP?
TheRogue.net & FictionAlley Valentine's Day Challenge
Mark Evans was all of eleven years old. Which probably meant that he should really be able to defend himself.
Unfortunately, Dudley Dursley was all of sixteen years old, and huge. And he had his friends to help him. Mark was hopelessly outnumbered and outclassed.
So he did the sensible thing, and ran like hell.
It hurt his eleven-year-old pride, to run like hell. But Dudley Dursley was more hellish than pride being hurt, and he hated having to explain to his dad that yes, the older boys had been beating him up again, and yes, he'd tried telling them off and he'd tried fighting them off, and his only reward was a lot of bruises that hurt. Running only hurt when Dudley's lackeys called him a coward and when his lungs and legs hurt from the running.
He was a smart boy, though; he knew the best places to hide and how to dodge and... as he gasped for breath he saw a good corner to turn; the bushes would block Dudley's view of his path.
Suddenly - for today was definitely not his day - Piers Polkiss emerged from the bushes and pounced.
"AARGHDON'THURTMEPLEASEI'LLDOANYTHING!" shouted Mark.
Piers laughed unpleasantly; "Don't even have to touch him and he's crying..."
"What a nancy," Dudley snorted.
"Excuse me," said somebody; Mark looked up and saw a black-haired woman he didn't recognize, standing over them and looking at Dudley and his gang with some distaste. He decided he liked her. "I'm afraid I've misplaced 4 Privet Drive. Would any of you boys know where I can find it?"
"Who are you?" demanded Dudley.
"Oh, you're Harry's cousin, aren't you?" the woman asked. "No family resemblance whatsoever, happily," she said. Dudley blinked at her with small blue eyes. "I'm Hestia Jones. I'm somebody from his school." It had the sound of - not exactly a lie, thought Mark, but the sort of thing your parents told you when they thought things were too complicated for you to understand.
The effect on Dudley, however, was enormous. "Come on," he hissed at Piers, backing away. Piers, disturbed at seeing his Fearless Leader so disturbed, dropped Mark, and the two left him at the feet of the goddess.
From that moment on, Mark Evans was madly in love with Hestia Jones.
"D'you want some help? I know where it is, I run away from it all the time," he offered.
"That would be very nice, thank you," she said, sounding as though she found him funny. He didn't think it was a bad sort of funny, though, and she was his savior, so she had to be nice.
"Are you looking for Harry Potter?" Mark asked. "He's supposed to be incurably criminal, you know."
"Oh? Is he? Poor boy, I hadn't noticed."
"...I thought you said you were from St. Brutus' Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys. And he looks sort of mad, you know?" The Potter boy had taken to wandering around and looking depressive.
"Oh, that," said Hestia, waving it off as so much nonsense. "If anybody needs to go to St. Brutus' Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys, it's... well."
Dudley. "Yeah," said Mark. "Only I need to be a faster runner. How'd you make them run away? Do you know karate?"
She blinked, and laughed. "Magic," she said, looking - if possible - even more amused.
"I wish I could do magic," said Mark, not entirely seriously.
She gave him an odd sideways look. "...How old are you?"
"I turned eleven last week," he said proudly.
"...there's still time for magic, then," she said. "This is the house, isn't it? I've only been inside, never out."
He nodded understandingly, when he realized that that last sentence made no sense at all. He'd opened his mouth to ask, but she had already gone up to the door and knocked, and he didn't want Dudley to spot him again. So he hurried off. Maybe she'd walk back this way... to her car? He wondered. But hopefully he'd spot her before she left and be able to ask... What an odd woman.
is madly in love with
HestiaJones
What's Your OTP?
TheRogue.net & FictionAlley Valentine's Day Challenge
Mark Evans was all of eleven years old. Which probably meant that he should really be able to defend himself.
Unfortunately, Dudley Dursley was all of sixteen years old, and huge. And he had his friends to help him. Mark was hopelessly outnumbered and outclassed.
So he did the sensible thing, and ran like hell.
It hurt his eleven-year-old pride, to run like hell. But Dudley Dursley was more hellish than pride being hurt, and he hated having to explain to his dad that yes, the older boys had been beating him up again, and yes, he'd tried telling them off and he'd tried fighting them off, and his only reward was a lot of bruises that hurt. Running only hurt when Dudley's lackeys called him a coward and when his lungs and legs hurt from the running.
He was a smart boy, though; he knew the best places to hide and how to dodge and... as he gasped for breath he saw a good corner to turn; the bushes would block Dudley's view of his path.
Suddenly - for today was definitely not his day - Piers Polkiss emerged from the bushes and pounced.
"AARGHDON'THURTMEPLEASEI'LLDOANYTHING!" shouted Mark.
Piers laughed unpleasantly; "Don't even have to touch him and he's crying..."
"What a nancy," Dudley snorted.
"Excuse me," said somebody; Mark looked up and saw a black-haired woman he didn't recognize, standing over them and looking at Dudley and his gang with some distaste. He decided he liked her. "I'm afraid I've misplaced 4 Privet Drive. Would any of you boys know where I can find it?"
"Who are you?" demanded Dudley.
"Oh, you're Harry's cousin, aren't you?" the woman asked. "No family resemblance whatsoever, happily," she said. Dudley blinked at her with small blue eyes. "I'm Hestia Jones. I'm somebody from his school." It had the sound of - not exactly a lie, thought Mark, but the sort of thing your parents told you when they thought things were too complicated for you to understand.
The effect on Dudley, however, was enormous. "Come on," he hissed at Piers, backing away. Piers, disturbed at seeing his Fearless Leader so disturbed, dropped Mark, and the two left him at the feet of the goddess.
From that moment on, Mark Evans was madly in love with Hestia Jones.
"D'you want some help? I know where it is, I run away from it all the time," he offered.
"That would be very nice, thank you," she said, sounding as though she found him funny. He didn't think it was a bad sort of funny, though, and she was his savior, so she had to be nice.
"Are you looking for Harry Potter?" Mark asked. "He's supposed to be incurably criminal, you know."
"Oh? Is he? Poor boy, I hadn't noticed."
"...I thought you said you were from St. Brutus' Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys. And he looks sort of mad, you know?" The Potter boy had taken to wandering around and looking depressive.
"Oh, that," said Hestia, waving it off as so much nonsense. "If anybody needs to go to St. Brutus' Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys, it's... well."
Dudley. "Yeah," said Mark. "Only I need to be a faster runner. How'd you make them run away? Do you know karate?"
She blinked, and laughed. "Magic," she said, looking - if possible - even more amused.
"I wish I could do magic," said Mark, not entirely seriously.
She gave him an odd sideways look. "...How old are you?"
"I turned eleven last week," he said proudly.
"...there's still time for magic, then," she said. "This is the house, isn't it? I've only been inside, never out."
He nodded understandingly, when he realized that that last sentence made no sense at all. He'd opened his mouth to ask, but she had already gone up to the door and knocked, and he didn't want Dudley to spot him again. So he hurried off. Maybe she'd walk back this way... to her car? He wondered. But hopefully he'd spot her before she left and be able to ask... What an odd woman.