Fic: Worth It (Morag/Megan)
TITLE: Worth It
AUTHOR: lar_laughs
FANDOM: Harry Potter
PAIRING: implied Morag/Megan
PROMPT: 46. Pewter at 100_colours (xposted at hp_fanfiction and rarepair_shorts)
RATING: PG-13
WORD COUNT: 774
SUMMARY: Morag sneaks in to leave a present and comes out with much more.
WARNINGS: Fluff and Worry
DISCLAIMER: I do not own any part of, nor do I make any money from the Harry Potter franchise. I merely dabble in the shadows of the world of JK Rowling created.
There was no other way around it. Morag was going to need to skip Arithmancy. Padma would kill her and Professor Vectra would glare for the next week but there was so much to be done and only days to get it all done in.
This time of day, there wasn’t anyone around to help her get into the Hufflepuff Common Room. She’d bribed a first year with her best Quick Quotes Quill to explain exactly how to get through but had never actually used the knowledge. She stood outside the door, her palms sweating.
“You shouldn’t be down here.”
There was a waft of white just out of the corner of her eye, gone again just as she turned her head. The Gray Lady was being sneaky which meant she didn’t think she belonged down here either, away from her tower and the classrooms she loved to spend time in.
“Neither should you, Helena. Besides, I’m not going to do anything horrible. Just leave a present.”
“And you can’t do that during the hours when someone might be about to accept your gift?”
Morag shrugged, her own conscious telling her the same thing. She hated it when someone else sided with the voice of reason in her head. “It’s now or never. If there’s someone around, I’ll lose what little courage I found to get this done. “ To herself she murmured, “It shouldn’t be this hard.”
“Hard? Don’t you remember that all the truly great things in life have a cost? It’s usually our sanity as we struggle to continue pushing toward the goal we’ve set for ourselves.”
The small box in her pocket suddenly weighed a ton. Her goal seemed relatively simple at first glance but now she didn’t know if it was the right way to procede. Perhaps it was too early to declare her intentions toward Megan. Their few meetings over the last month had been exciting and pleasurable but the Hufflepuff might not have seen them in the same light. Indecision weighed on her heart.
“Now that you’re here,” Helena swept in front of her, suddenly as bright and substantial as if she was a current student with an odd choice in fashion, “you might as well do what you came to do. I’ll not stand in your way. Good luck, my dear. Just remember that love is always worth it.”
She didn’t remember getting into the Common Room or making her way through the tunnels to Megan’s sleeping room but she was suddenly standing beside the bed she knew instinctively was the correct one. The Harpies banner flying on the wall was a giveaway but so was the tiny collection of baubles on the bedside table.
A wilted flower from their last meeting in Greenhouse 2 when they’d accidently broken off a branch of the syringa and tried to hide the damage. A pebble that Morag had thrown at Megan to get her attention during the Slytherin/Gryffindor Quidditch game. Three coins that had been the change from the pumpkin pasty they’d split on the trip to Hogsmeade.
Of anything there, the dead giveaway that this was Megan’s bed was the picture in the small pewter frame. It had probably been taken in the library during one of Morag’s intense just leave me alone and let me drown in the information for awhile study sessions she was famous for because her hair was clipped completely up so that not a bit of it was falling into her face or tickling her neck. She was muttering to herself softely, the tip of the feather on her quill sweeping across the bridge of her nose to help her concentrate. It wasn’t the best picture she’d ever seen of herself but Morag stared at it with new eyes. It was obviously as special to Megan as the other memoribilia.
“She likes me,” Morag whispered, wonder filling up every crevice of her body as she tried to work out just what this all meant. “She really likes me.”
Grabbing at the tiny stub of pencil that was always in her back pocket, Morag ripped the paper off the package and flattened it as much as possible.
Megan, Here’s a gift for you. Something small; just a reminder that there’s someone out there who adores you. Morag.
P.S. I hope you won’t miss that old t-shirt you wear to practice sometimes.
With a smile wider than her face knew what to do with, Morag quietly left the way she came, all the more richer, in both spirit and in wardrobe, than when she’d come in. Helena was right - love was always worth it.
AUTHOR: lar_laughs
FANDOM: Harry Potter
PAIRING: implied Morag/Megan
PROMPT: 46. Pewter at 100_colours (xposted at hp_fanfiction and rarepair_shorts)
RATING: PG-13
WORD COUNT: 774
SUMMARY: Morag sneaks in to leave a present and comes out with much more.
WARNINGS: Fluff and Worry
DISCLAIMER: I do not own any part of, nor do I make any money from the Harry Potter franchise. I merely dabble in the shadows of the world of JK Rowling created.
There was no other way around it. Morag was going to need to skip Arithmancy. Padma would kill her and Professor Vectra would glare for the next week but there was so much to be done and only days to get it all done in.
This time of day, there wasn’t anyone around to help her get into the Hufflepuff Common Room. She’d bribed a first year with her best Quick Quotes Quill to explain exactly how to get through but had never actually used the knowledge. She stood outside the door, her palms sweating.
“You shouldn’t be down here.”
There was a waft of white just out of the corner of her eye, gone again just as she turned her head. The Gray Lady was being sneaky which meant she didn’t think she belonged down here either, away from her tower and the classrooms she loved to spend time in.
“Neither should you, Helena. Besides, I’m not going to do anything horrible. Just leave a present.”
“And you can’t do that during the hours when someone might be about to accept your gift?”
Morag shrugged, her own conscious telling her the same thing. She hated it when someone else sided with the voice of reason in her head. “It’s now or never. If there’s someone around, I’ll lose what little courage I found to get this done. “ To herself she murmured, “It shouldn’t be this hard.”
“Hard? Don’t you remember that all the truly great things in life have a cost? It’s usually our sanity as we struggle to continue pushing toward the goal we’ve set for ourselves.”
The small box in her pocket suddenly weighed a ton. Her goal seemed relatively simple at first glance but now she didn’t know if it was the right way to procede. Perhaps it was too early to declare her intentions toward Megan. Their few meetings over the last month had been exciting and pleasurable but the Hufflepuff might not have seen them in the same light. Indecision weighed on her heart.
“Now that you’re here,” Helena swept in front of her, suddenly as bright and substantial as if she was a current student with an odd choice in fashion, “you might as well do what you came to do. I’ll not stand in your way. Good luck, my dear. Just remember that love is always worth it.”
She didn’t remember getting into the Common Room or making her way through the tunnels to Megan’s sleeping room but she was suddenly standing beside the bed she knew instinctively was the correct one. The Harpies banner flying on the wall was a giveaway but so was the tiny collection of baubles on the bedside table.
A wilted flower from their last meeting in Greenhouse 2 when they’d accidently broken off a branch of the syringa and tried to hide the damage. A pebble that Morag had thrown at Megan to get her attention during the Slytherin/Gryffindor Quidditch game. Three coins that had been the change from the pumpkin pasty they’d split on the trip to Hogsmeade.
Of anything there, the dead giveaway that this was Megan’s bed was the picture in the small pewter frame. It had probably been taken in the library during one of Morag’s intense just leave me alone and let me drown in the information for awhile study sessions she was famous for because her hair was clipped completely up so that not a bit of it was falling into her face or tickling her neck. She was muttering to herself softely, the tip of the feather on her quill sweeping across the bridge of her nose to help her concentrate. It wasn’t the best picture she’d ever seen of herself but Morag stared at it with new eyes. It was obviously as special to Megan as the other memoribilia.
“She likes me,” Morag whispered, wonder filling up every crevice of her body as she tried to work out just what this all meant. “She really likes me.”
Grabbing at the tiny stub of pencil that was always in her back pocket, Morag ripped the paper off the package and flattened it as much as possible.
Megan, Here’s a gift for you. Something small; just a reminder that there’s someone out there who adores you. Morag.
P.S. I hope you won’t miss that old t-shirt you wear to practice sometimes.
With a smile wider than her face knew what to do with, Morag quietly left the way she came, all the more richer, in both spirit and in wardrobe, than when she’d come in. Helena was right - love was always worth it.