FIC!
Okay, the first fic in response to this meme.
somedaybitch wanted to know what happened after Harry Potter and the Lord of Time. I'm constitutionally unable to write anything of 100 words, so this is 800 words. That's short for me, yeah? Also, have mercy; my writing skills are rusty like whoa. And, it was written quickly. And ... I'm so out of practice I'm just gonna go stand in the corner and flail for a bit. Yeah.
Harry Potter and the Lord of Time, Two Years Later
Fandoms: Harry Potter, Stargate: Atlantis, Doctor Who
Spoilers: HP Post-"Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince", SGA post-"Sunday", DW post-"Doomsday"
Characters: Harry Potter, John Sheppard, Rose Tyler
Rating: PG
***
Harry Potter was tired of graves. Some days he felt like he had more of them than anything else. And here he was, early on a gray morning, staring down at yet another.
He'd left his room at the Leaky Cauldron long before the sun had come up, long before Ron and Hermione could insist on going with him. He hadn't told them about this grave yet, and he wasn't sure he wanted to. Somehow it just didn't seem fair of him to add another grave to their own collections.
The crunch of footsteps on the gravel walk behind him startled Harry, and he reached into his coat pocket for his wand. Turning his head slowly, he watched a tall figure, clad in a black leather jacket and dark trousers step towards him through the thick, cold mist.
For a moment he'd thought it was the Doctor, and a burning dread spread through his belly. He didn't know what to say to the man, and he almost didn't want to hear how it happened. What he knew was more than enough.
Another step and recognition hit him, and relief nearly drowned him.
The American pilot missed a step and ran a hand through his messy hair as he spotted Harry. "Harry?"
"Colonel."
"A little early, isn't it?" Colonel John Sheppard smiled, but his eyes were as heavy with sorrow as Harry's heart felt. If he even had a heart left anymore, and not had it replaced by some cold, lifeless stone.
"Maybe a little late," Harry muttered, turning back to the simple bronze marker at his feet.
"Yeah," Sheppard agreed solemnly, stepping up next to him.
"I'm tired of people dying," Harry admitted and kicked a toe at a clump of grass.
"So am I."
Their voices were hushed, muffled by the heavy damp in the air.
Sudden tears stung Harry's eyes. He rubbed at them, almost surprised; he hadn't thought he had any tears left. "She shouldn't be dead."
"No. Too bad that's not how it works."
"I hate how it works."
"I know."
"She was ... she was bright, like sunlight. And never seemed afraid. I wish I was brave like that. And she shouldn't be dead," Harry said again, his voice rising in petulant demand.
"I wish I'd known her longer," Sheppard said. "Anybody who can put McKay in his place that quickly is worth knowing."
Harry couldn't help the small laugh. "What are you doing here? Not that I'm not glad, mind."
"Bringing a friend home," the Colonel replied simply, but Harry heard the rough exhalation on the last word.
"I'm sorry," and he meant it. One more grave.
"He was a good man."
"Did -- did I meet him?"
Sheppard glanced over at Harry and frowned thoughtfully, then shook his head almost sadly. "No, I don't think you did."
"Oh."
"I must've mentioned him, though. Doctor Beckett. Carson."
Harry nodded, recognizing the name. He and the Colonel had kept in touch, though their letters were infrequent. Every now and then Harry just needed to talk to somebody who wasn't tied up in his world of magic and Voldemort and the Dursleys ... somebody who was far, far away from all of that.
"Yeah, I remember. I'm sorry," Harry said again, feeling just how inadequate that word was. "How'd ... how'd you hear about Rose?"
"We got a report on the battle. I saw her name." The Colonel cleared his throat and looked up at the gray sky. "I just ... I don't know. Coming here just seemed like the thing to do."
"I saw it in the newspaper. I haven't told Ron and Hermione. I ... I don't know if I should. I like the idea of them thinking she's still out there with the Doctor. Still having adventures. Like that way she's not really dead."
The Colonel hummed, but made no other reply. Harry liked that about him; he never tried to tell Harry what to do, or how he ought to behave, and he never treated him like a small child who didn't know his own mind.
"Or, should, I though? They've a right to know what happened to her. They liked her, too. But ... there's just so many graves already. I don't want them to have another." The tears made another surprising appearance and Harry sniffed quietly. "And there's a war on, and ... I just don't want anymore."
"Maybe it's ... maybe it's okay to protect them just a little longer, Harry. But, you can't carry it alone forever. Trust me."
"But for now?" Harry asked, feeling slightly desperate for some sort of hope, something, someone who'd tell him he'd done right.
"For now, it's probably okay."
"'kay."
They stood quietly for another moment and thought of everybody who'd passed them by, and of a bright, smiling young woman who shouldn't be dead.
"What do you say I buy you breakfast?"
Harry pulled a small, blue, slightly bedraggled flower out of his pocket, and dropped it on the marker. "Yeah, I'd like that."
##
somedaybitch wanted to know what happened after Harry Potter and the Lord of Time. I'm constitutionally unable to write anything of 100 words, so this is 800 words. That's short for me, yeah? Also, have mercy; my writing skills are rusty like whoa. And, it was written quickly. And ... I'm so out of practice I'm just gonna go stand in the corner and flail for a bit. Yeah.
Harry Potter and the Lord of Time, Two Years Later
Fandoms: Harry Potter, Stargate: Atlantis, Doctor Who
Spoilers: HP Post-"Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince", SGA post-"Sunday", DW post-"Doomsday"
Characters: Harry Potter, John Sheppard, Rose Tyler
Rating: PG
***
Harry Potter was tired of graves. Some days he felt like he had more of them than anything else. And here he was, early on a gray morning, staring down at yet another.
He'd left his room at the Leaky Cauldron long before the sun had come up, long before Ron and Hermione could insist on going with him. He hadn't told them about this grave yet, and he wasn't sure he wanted to. Somehow it just didn't seem fair of him to add another grave to their own collections.
The crunch of footsteps on the gravel walk behind him startled Harry, and he reached into his coat pocket for his wand. Turning his head slowly, he watched a tall figure, clad in a black leather jacket and dark trousers step towards him through the thick, cold mist.
For a moment he'd thought it was the Doctor, and a burning dread spread through his belly. He didn't know what to say to the man, and he almost didn't want to hear how it happened. What he knew was more than enough.
Another step and recognition hit him, and relief nearly drowned him.
The American pilot missed a step and ran a hand through his messy hair as he spotted Harry. "Harry?"
"Colonel."
"A little early, isn't it?" Colonel John Sheppard smiled, but his eyes were as heavy with sorrow as Harry's heart felt. If he even had a heart left anymore, and not had it replaced by some cold, lifeless stone.
"Maybe a little late," Harry muttered, turning back to the simple bronze marker at his feet.
"Yeah," Sheppard agreed solemnly, stepping up next to him.
"I'm tired of people dying," Harry admitted and kicked a toe at a clump of grass.
"So am I."
Their voices were hushed, muffled by the heavy damp in the air.
Sudden tears stung Harry's eyes. He rubbed at them, almost surprised; he hadn't thought he had any tears left. "She shouldn't be dead."
"No. Too bad that's not how it works."
"I hate how it works."
"I know."
"She was ... she was bright, like sunlight. And never seemed afraid. I wish I was brave like that. And she shouldn't be dead," Harry said again, his voice rising in petulant demand.
"I wish I'd known her longer," Sheppard said. "Anybody who can put McKay in his place that quickly is worth knowing."
Harry couldn't help the small laugh. "What are you doing here? Not that I'm not glad, mind."
"Bringing a friend home," the Colonel replied simply, but Harry heard the rough exhalation on the last word.
"I'm sorry," and he meant it. One more grave.
"He was a good man."
"Did -- did I meet him?"
Sheppard glanced over at Harry and frowned thoughtfully, then shook his head almost sadly. "No, I don't think you did."
"Oh."
"I must've mentioned him, though. Doctor Beckett. Carson."
Harry nodded, recognizing the name. He and the Colonel had kept in touch, though their letters were infrequent. Every now and then Harry just needed to talk to somebody who wasn't tied up in his world of magic and Voldemort and the Dursleys ... somebody who was far, far away from all of that.
"Yeah, I remember. I'm sorry," Harry said again, feeling just how inadequate that word was. "How'd ... how'd you hear about Rose?"
"We got a report on the battle. I saw her name." The Colonel cleared his throat and looked up at the gray sky. "I just ... I don't know. Coming here just seemed like the thing to do."
"I saw it in the newspaper. I haven't told Ron and Hermione. I ... I don't know if I should. I like the idea of them thinking she's still out there with the Doctor. Still having adventures. Like that way she's not really dead."
The Colonel hummed, but made no other reply. Harry liked that about him; he never tried to tell Harry what to do, or how he ought to behave, and he never treated him like a small child who didn't know his own mind.
"Or, should, I though? They've a right to know what happened to her. They liked her, too. But ... there's just so many graves already. I don't want them to have another." The tears made another surprising appearance and Harry sniffed quietly. "And there's a war on, and ... I just don't want anymore."
"Maybe it's ... maybe it's okay to protect them just a little longer, Harry. But, you can't carry it alone forever. Trust me."
"But for now?" Harry asked, feeling slightly desperate for some sort of hope, something, someone who'd tell him he'd done right.
"For now, it's probably okay."
"'kay."
They stood quietly for another moment and thought of everybody who'd passed them by, and of a bright, smiling young woman who shouldn't be dead.
"What do you say I buy you breakfast?"
Harry pulled a small, blue, slightly bedraggled flower out of his pocket, and dropped it on the marker. "Yeah, I'd like that."
##