"Focus", Verse Challenge
Title: Focus
Author: Tosca ( tosca1390 )
Rating: PG (shock! awe!)
Challenge: From the Verse Prompts: your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers, e.e. cummings
Summary: Harry needs to stay closed, no matter how carried away he might get. He just needs to keep himself to that.
Warnings/Notes: Short but sweet at 1700 words. I hope you enjoy!
Harry kept his fists tightly clenched as he paced the Quidditch pitch, a dusty rose-red-orange painting the horizon as the sun dipped down to finish its slow descent. The grass was wet under his trainers from an earlier rain, and little squeaking sounds accompanied his pacing. He strode back and forth across its width, sometimes glancing up at the towering hoops above him and always scowling. Not even the fresh lilt of the breeze promising spring could brush up the downward turn of his mouth.
He was determined to be cool this time. He wasn’t going to bumble around and say stupid things and cause himself to flush at all. It was just Ginny, after all. And they weren’t dating at all, really. They had only gone to Hogsmeade once, last month.
He just didn’t understand why she had to start hanging around Michael Corner again, was all. The guy was obviously a jerk; she had to be out of her mind.
Of course, he probably shouldn’t have punched him in the nose and sent him up to Madam Pomfrey with blood all over his face, but he had just been trying to help Ginny! Who did that arse think he was in the first place, putting his moves on Ginny?
Not that Harry cared.
Letting out an impatient sigh, he glanced up towards the castle and resumed pacing, scowl growing deeper. If that’s why Ginny wanted to talk, he was leaving. He didn’t have to explain himself to her. He had done her a favor.
Besides, he didn’t really want to see her anymore, at least not alone. She made things happen inside him that scared him; he had thought that after Sirius had died, he wouldn’t ever feel again, and for a while, that’s what happened. He had been completely closed off, able to be numb to most anything all that summer and most of his sixth year. But then Ginny had become closer to him and Ron and Hermione as a friend on equal standing, and she had started making him want to open himself up again. She tried to pry him open, to see inside of him and find out what he was really feeling, and that had unnerved him. He had thought no one could do that anymore; not even Ron and Hermione got him some of the time, but Ginny always did.
He hated it. He didn’t want people to know his feelings, or to understand his motives. He just wanted to get through all this, hopefully still living. Feelings and attachments were something he just didn’t have time or energy for.
He also hated how he liked it. Sometimes he would intercept a glance from her, warm dark eyes whispering of something he didn’t understand, and he would want to pull her aside and tell her anything; he wanted her to know of how he missed Sirius, how he didn’t want to be an Auror anymore, how he liked the way she twirled her hair when she was thinking, how he wanted to survive... He wanted to tell her all of that and more, because somehow he knew she would understand. He wanted her to understand.
No. He shook his head as he stopped in the middle of the pitch, looking impatiently towards the path up to the castle. She had better hurry up--it was nearly curfew. He already had a detention from punching Corner-- he didn’t need another one. He crossed his arms over his forest-green jumper and sighed heavily, wishing he were anywhere but here.
It was then he caught a glimpse of red, and he squinted behind his glasses. Yes, it was Ginny. About bloody time.
He didn’t mean to notice, but he couldn’t help but see how… how pretty she looked as she ran down from the castle. Her hair was sliding out of its ribbon, strands flying into her flashing eyes, and he could see her pushing the hair impatiently from her face as she strode towards him. Her face was red enough that upon cursory glance, her freckles seemed to disappear. Yes, she was pretty. It wasn’t a Cho-pretty, or a Fleur-pretty; it was Ginny.
He tapped his foot as she finally came within speaking distance. “What’s all this about?” he called as she grew closer.
She didn’t respond; her eyes were dark and narrow, and he felt something like nervousness for a moment. She didn’t look happy, that was for certain. What was wrong now?
He had been just about to open his mouth again when she came to a halt within a few feet and then he abruptly felt her hand sting across his cheek. His jaw fell open and his hand came up to the offending patch of skin, more stunned than hurt. She was breathing heavily, glaring at him with a violence he had never seen from her before, and then the smarting began.
“Damn it!” he cursed, rubbing at his reddening cheek as he stared at her. “What the hell was that for?”
Her eyes grew wider, and she let out a little sound of disbelief before turning away and starting for the castle again.
She was leaving?
“Ginny, what the hell? You can’t just smack me and leave without any reason?” he called angrily, going after her. So much for being cool. He always either wanted to kiss her or strangle her.
Kiss her? Where the hell had that come from?
Wheeling back around, she marched up to him and shoved his shoulder. “Without any reason? Harry, you attacked Michael Corner today!” she exclaimed.
Oh. She was mad about that?
He raised his eyebrows, wincing slightly. “I didn’t attack him! He was attacking you. He’s a jerk!” he retorted, rubbing his cheek.
Her mouth dropped open in shock. “Who are you to tell me who I can do things with? You’re definitely not one of my brothers! He’s just my friend!”
Shifting uncomfortably, he turned away, not wanting to look at her eyes anymore. He could feel something inside him unraveling. He clenched his fists at his side, letting his cheek throb.
After a moment of silence, he heard an exasperated sigh from her. “Are you jealous or something, Harry? I don’t understand why you’re so upset over me and Michael being friends. Do you think you have some sort of claim over me because we went to Hogsmeade once?”
Frowning deeply, he shook his head. “Of course I don’t,” he replied through his teeth.
“Because you never did ask me out again, or try to insinuate that you wanted to be more than friends,” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “And that confused me a bloody lot.”
“Damn it, I’m sorry for hitting him, all right?” he exclaimed, eyes flashing angrily as he glanced at her. “Is this what we came out here for, so you could slap me and then berate me? I have better things to do,” he said coolly.
She snorted, pushing the loosened hair out of her face. “Like hide from the world and not let anyone in, right? Well, go on, don’t want to keep you from that,” she muttered dryly, still flushed, though now her lashes were lowered.
A swell of hot anger rose up from the pit of his stomach, and he clenched his fists tightly. “What the hell do you know about it, Ginny? You’re off snogging with Corner, I’m surprised you even know what I look like,” he said snidely.
Mouth agape, she stared at him, eyes wide. “You think I’m with him? Don’t be ridiculous, Harry! I’m only around him once in a while! Why are you making such a big deal out of this?”
He muttered angrily under his breath and moved past her to stalk back to the castle. He didn’t need to take this.
“You are jealous, aren’t you?” she asked quietly after his retreating back.
Keep walking. Keep walking. Keep walking.
Shutting his eyes tightly, he slowed to a stop after she spoke, feeling his nails make little half-moon marks in his palms. He had to keep it together; she couldn’t be allowed to figure anything out. All his hard-earned walls would crumble if she even touched him.
“Harry?” she asked softly, and he could hear her footsteps moving closer.
Keep closed.
He continued his silence until he felt her faint touch on his shoulder, and it burned through his three layers to sear his skin, marking him as hers for real now. Flinching, he pulled away and turned to meet her eyes.
“I’m hardly jealous, Ginny. Just don’t want you getting mixed up with him again,” he told her, voice tight as his fingers clenched together. “Ron told me he was concerned.”
A part of him withered as he watched a tiny spark of something--hope?-- fade away in her warming eyes, and she gave him a small smile before shrugging. “Right, of course,” she murmured, wrapping her arms around herself. “Silly me.”
The pause after her words was incredibly tense and painful for him; he thought that the very air was trying to suffocate the truth out of him. He couldn’t bear to look at her anymore; he had too much exposure already.
“We’d best get back to the school,” he said quietly after a moment.
She nodded, looking up at him. “Of course, we can walk up together, if you’d like,” she said softly, biting her bottom lip in a way that made him want to grab her hands and tell her he didn’t mean it, that he really was insanely jealous and he didn’t want anyone else to even look at her.
But of course he didn’t.
Nodding, he turned and heard her follow. His hands stayed clenched into fists, fingers closed tightly, and he didn’t meet her eyes once as they walked back in silence, navy blue streaking the fading orange-red of the sunset. He just couldn’t risk it.
Though one day, he thought as they walked and the breeze lifted a sample of her intoxicating scent towards his nose, perhaps he would be able to.
Author: Tosca ( tosca1390 )
Rating: PG (shock! awe!)
Challenge: From the Verse Prompts: your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers, e.e. cummings
Summary: Harry needs to stay closed, no matter how carried away he might get. He just needs to keep himself to that.
Warnings/Notes: Short but sweet at 1700 words. I hope you enjoy!
Harry kept his fists tightly clenched as he paced the Quidditch pitch, a dusty rose-red-orange painting the horizon as the sun dipped down to finish its slow descent. The grass was wet under his trainers from an earlier rain, and little squeaking sounds accompanied his pacing. He strode back and forth across its width, sometimes glancing up at the towering hoops above him and always scowling. Not even the fresh lilt of the breeze promising spring could brush up the downward turn of his mouth.
He was determined to be cool this time. He wasn’t going to bumble around and say stupid things and cause himself to flush at all. It was just Ginny, after all. And they weren’t dating at all, really. They had only gone to Hogsmeade once, last month.
He just didn’t understand why she had to start hanging around Michael Corner again, was all. The guy was obviously a jerk; she had to be out of her mind.
Of course, he probably shouldn’t have punched him in the nose and sent him up to Madam Pomfrey with blood all over his face, but he had just been trying to help Ginny! Who did that arse think he was in the first place, putting his moves on Ginny?
Not that Harry cared.
Letting out an impatient sigh, he glanced up towards the castle and resumed pacing, scowl growing deeper. If that’s why Ginny wanted to talk, he was leaving. He didn’t have to explain himself to her. He had done her a favor.
Besides, he didn’t really want to see her anymore, at least not alone. She made things happen inside him that scared him; he had thought that after Sirius had died, he wouldn’t ever feel again, and for a while, that’s what happened. He had been completely closed off, able to be numb to most anything all that summer and most of his sixth year. But then Ginny had become closer to him and Ron and Hermione as a friend on equal standing, and she had started making him want to open himself up again. She tried to pry him open, to see inside of him and find out what he was really feeling, and that had unnerved him. He had thought no one could do that anymore; not even Ron and Hermione got him some of the time, but Ginny always did.
He hated it. He didn’t want people to know his feelings, or to understand his motives. He just wanted to get through all this, hopefully still living. Feelings and attachments were something he just didn’t have time or energy for.
He also hated how he liked it. Sometimes he would intercept a glance from her, warm dark eyes whispering of something he didn’t understand, and he would want to pull her aside and tell her anything; he wanted her to know of how he missed Sirius, how he didn’t want to be an Auror anymore, how he liked the way she twirled her hair when she was thinking, how he wanted to survive... He wanted to tell her all of that and more, because somehow he knew she would understand. He wanted her to understand.
No. He shook his head as he stopped in the middle of the pitch, looking impatiently towards the path up to the castle. She had better hurry up--it was nearly curfew. He already had a detention from punching Corner-- he didn’t need another one. He crossed his arms over his forest-green jumper and sighed heavily, wishing he were anywhere but here.
It was then he caught a glimpse of red, and he squinted behind his glasses. Yes, it was Ginny. About bloody time.
He didn’t mean to notice, but he couldn’t help but see how… how pretty she looked as she ran down from the castle. Her hair was sliding out of its ribbon, strands flying into her flashing eyes, and he could see her pushing the hair impatiently from her face as she strode towards him. Her face was red enough that upon cursory glance, her freckles seemed to disappear. Yes, she was pretty. It wasn’t a Cho-pretty, or a Fleur-pretty; it was Ginny.
He tapped his foot as she finally came within speaking distance. “What’s all this about?” he called as she grew closer.
She didn’t respond; her eyes were dark and narrow, and he felt something like nervousness for a moment. She didn’t look happy, that was for certain. What was wrong now?
He had been just about to open his mouth again when she came to a halt within a few feet and then he abruptly felt her hand sting across his cheek. His jaw fell open and his hand came up to the offending patch of skin, more stunned than hurt. She was breathing heavily, glaring at him with a violence he had never seen from her before, and then the smarting began.
“Damn it!” he cursed, rubbing at his reddening cheek as he stared at her. “What the hell was that for?”
Her eyes grew wider, and she let out a little sound of disbelief before turning away and starting for the castle again.
She was leaving?
“Ginny, what the hell? You can’t just smack me and leave without any reason?” he called angrily, going after her. So much for being cool. He always either wanted to kiss her or strangle her.
Kiss her? Where the hell had that come from?
Wheeling back around, she marched up to him and shoved his shoulder. “Without any reason? Harry, you attacked Michael Corner today!” she exclaimed.
Oh. She was mad about that?
He raised his eyebrows, wincing slightly. “I didn’t attack him! He was attacking you. He’s a jerk!” he retorted, rubbing his cheek.
Her mouth dropped open in shock. “Who are you to tell me who I can do things with? You’re definitely not one of my brothers! He’s just my friend!”
Shifting uncomfortably, he turned away, not wanting to look at her eyes anymore. He could feel something inside him unraveling. He clenched his fists at his side, letting his cheek throb.
After a moment of silence, he heard an exasperated sigh from her. “Are you jealous or something, Harry? I don’t understand why you’re so upset over me and Michael being friends. Do you think you have some sort of claim over me because we went to Hogsmeade once?”
Frowning deeply, he shook his head. “Of course I don’t,” he replied through his teeth.
“Because you never did ask me out again, or try to insinuate that you wanted to be more than friends,” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “And that confused me a bloody lot.”
“Damn it, I’m sorry for hitting him, all right?” he exclaimed, eyes flashing angrily as he glanced at her. “Is this what we came out here for, so you could slap me and then berate me? I have better things to do,” he said coolly.
She snorted, pushing the loosened hair out of her face. “Like hide from the world and not let anyone in, right? Well, go on, don’t want to keep you from that,” she muttered dryly, still flushed, though now her lashes were lowered.
A swell of hot anger rose up from the pit of his stomach, and he clenched his fists tightly. “What the hell do you know about it, Ginny? You’re off snogging with Corner, I’m surprised you even know what I look like,” he said snidely.
Mouth agape, she stared at him, eyes wide. “You think I’m with him? Don’t be ridiculous, Harry! I’m only around him once in a while! Why are you making such a big deal out of this?”
He muttered angrily under his breath and moved past her to stalk back to the castle. He didn’t need to take this.
“You are jealous, aren’t you?” she asked quietly after his retreating back.
Keep walking. Keep walking. Keep walking.
Shutting his eyes tightly, he slowed to a stop after she spoke, feeling his nails make little half-moon marks in his palms. He had to keep it together; she couldn’t be allowed to figure anything out. All his hard-earned walls would crumble if she even touched him.
“Harry?” she asked softly, and he could hear her footsteps moving closer.
Keep closed.
He continued his silence until he felt her faint touch on his shoulder, and it burned through his three layers to sear his skin, marking him as hers for real now. Flinching, he pulled away and turned to meet her eyes.
“I’m hardly jealous, Ginny. Just don’t want you getting mixed up with him again,” he told her, voice tight as his fingers clenched together. “Ron told me he was concerned.”
A part of him withered as he watched a tiny spark of something--hope?-- fade away in her warming eyes, and she gave him a small smile before shrugging. “Right, of course,” she murmured, wrapping her arms around herself. “Silly me.”
The pause after her words was incredibly tense and painful for him; he thought that the very air was trying to suffocate the truth out of him. He couldn’t bear to look at her anymore; he had too much exposure already.
“We’d best get back to the school,” he said quietly after a moment.
She nodded, looking up at him. “Of course, we can walk up together, if you’d like,” she said softly, biting her bottom lip in a way that made him want to grab her hands and tell her he didn’t mean it, that he really was insanely jealous and he didn’t want anyone else to even look at her.
But of course he didn’t.
Nodding, he turned and heard her follow. His hands stayed clenched into fists, fingers closed tightly, and he didn’t meet her eyes once as they walked back in silence, navy blue streaking the fading orange-red of the sunset. He just couldn’t risk it.
Though one day, he thought as they walked and the breeze lifted a sample of her intoxicating scent towards his nose, perhaps he would be able to.