Ron: One Drabble and Three Ficlets
Apr. 6th, 2010 04:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
seedeeI'm back, I'm tired, and strangely enough, work hasn't improved miraculously since last week - DESPITE me eating all Easter chocolate. How's that even fair?
On the upside, I still wasn't voted out of![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
rw_ldws. Here are the ficlets of the last weeks.
Hope you are all well ♥ ♥ &hearts
Title: A Trip Down Memory Lane
Characters/Rating: Harry, Ron, PG
Word Count: 100
Author's Notes: Thanks and love to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
thimble_kiss for the beta.
"We're in Scotland, yeah?" Harry asked, staring out of the window of their new flying car.
"'course." Ron paused. "I think."
Harry cursed. How they'd found Hogwarts in second year was a mystery. "This was a bad idea."
"That's what Hermione said." Ron had no idea where they were; they'd lost the railway tracks hours ago.
"Send her a Patronus?" Harry glared at their useless map.
Ron scowled. "She's waiting for it. We'll never live it down."
"Right. It's not that bad." Harry shivered. Rain was pelting on the roof of the wind-shaken vehicle.
"No," Ron muttered, unconvinced. "Not yet."
Title: Common Ground
Characters/Rating: Scabbers, Ron, PG-13
Word Count: 360
I'm a rat.
I'm stuck in a small, filthy animal body with my nose in the dirt and my mind relishing its primal state. I eat the food they give me; I sleep in the warm place they provide; I fuck the rats outside.
Perched on the shoulder of the little boy who took me when his brother found a better pet, I watch. I see. I recognise.
He's so desperate for attention that he befriends the first kid he meets on the train. My whiskers shake with mirthless laughter as I see the scar on the other's face. People court Potters. I've been there; I've done that. I almost want to protect him from humiliation when he whips out his wand and tries to cast the non-existent charm his idiot brothers have taught him. Cringing, I remember how it feels to be the punchline of the joke.
Everyday, I watch his frustration when he's outshone. Those standing next to him have titles like 'smartest witch', 'living bludgers', or 'the boy who lived', and he's just there. He's invisible and unnoticed. I know the dark place in his heart where he locks those moments away and hides them from the world. The place will grow. Potters are reliable.
I won't be here forever. There are rumours among students and teachers, among the ghosts and the creatures that crawl on the ground. The Dark Lord is calling them; he's calling us.
I'm going to betray the boy, and I'll add my share to the dark place.
And one day, someone will come along who recognises the darkness and knows how to manipulate it. I wonder what will happen. Is he a true Gryffindor? Loyal to death and insanity? Or will he break and destroy the lives of his friends? Will his family abandon him? Will he be maimed by someone he trusts?
He tries so hard to belong. It's a narrow path and a dangerous one.
A long time ago, there was another boy walking that path. Before he became a rat.
Title: Delicate Conversations
Characters/Rating: Ron, Harry, Ron/Hermione, Harry/Ginny, PG-13
Word Count: 435
"Ale?" Ron asked, shrugging off his work robes.
"Sure thing." Harry plopped down on the couch in t-shirt and boxers, making contented noises and scratching his groin.
Ron took two bottles of ale, uncapped them and followed Harry to the couch. It was heaven to sit down after a long workday. Ron handed Harry a bottle and took a deep swig from his own before he asked. "Why are we never talking about girls?"
Harry frowned. "Girls? Dunno. D'you wanna talk about them?"
Ron shrugged. "I've got one; you've got one; we're best mates."
Harry drank and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "All right."
"All right," Ron echoed.
Silence ensued.
Harry gestured with his bottle. "You wanna start or something?"
Ron tried to think of something to say. "Hermione. She's great," he said.
Harry snorted. "You don't say."
"And she's pretty. Like, you know..." his voice trailed away, and he thought of Hermione and her warm, soft body that he was finally allowed to touch. He smiled as he took another swig. Despite his exhausting job and all the problems with the recovering wizarding world, there were some things that were just perfect. Like Hermione's round, perky arse.
Harry hummed. "I know. Ginny's bloody gorgeous. And she's got perfect..." He made an awkward juggling gesture.
Ron watched him, scowling. "I don't think you want to finish that sentence." His big brother protectiveness was rearing its head.
Harry coughed, his hand falling down to his lap. "No, I don't think so either."
The silence was heavy between them, and Ron picked at the label of his ale. Finally he looked back at Harry. "You haven't touched them yet, have you?" There was an edge to his voice.
Harry frantically shook his head. "'Course not. Never."
"Ruddy liar," Ron muttered.
There was more silence.
"What about you? Have you...?" Harry made the gesture again.
Ron shrugged, and then he grinned and ducked his head. "I was over at her place last week after our date. And then we kissed, and she made that little noise, and then we went to her bedroom. Y'know, with the white sheets and the fluffy covers. She pulled off her shirt, and she let me-"
Harry raised his hand in defeat. "Okay, stop. If you say more, I'll have to kill myself."
Ron fell silent. He was both grateful and a tiny bit disappointed that he wouldn't have to recount the rest of the night. "We can't talk about this, can we?" he asked.
Harry shook his head. "Don't think so."
Ron nodded, sighed, and drank some more. "Quidditch?"
Harry's eyes lit up. "Did you see that pass from Hanglock last Saturday?"
Title: It Will Pass
Warnings: Violence
Featured Characters/Rating: Ron, Ron/Harry, R
Word Count: 300
Your own carelessness is the reason they catch you.
One moment, you are checking the parameters of the ancient manor, and a moment later, a well-aimed spell makes sure you don't resist when they carry you inside and bind you to a chair. You are disoriented from the lack of light and more so from repeated blows to the head.
You want to smack yourself. But you can't; rough ropes chafe your wrists and prevent you from moving even after the spell is lifted.
Your hooded captors know that Aurors come in pairs. They want to know where your partner is. You laugh at them until they split your lips and break your nose.
Then you laugh a little more.
Teeth can be replaced. Broken bones can be mended.
You know pain. It will pass.
A pair of green shoes, an unusual table, a strong accent, a woman yelling behind a thin wall, a name dropped during a muffled conversation – you're good at noticing details, and in your mind, you repeat them over and over again.
Pain is temporary.
They promise to let you live if you spill where he is. They'll spare your life if you rat him out like a good little captive.
You can't breathe, but you smile. Blood is running down your forehead and blurring your vision.
They have no idea who your partner is.
They have no idea that he is your life.
They don't know that if you can't save him, there is no reason to save yourself.
They have no bloody idea that Harry Potter is going to rip this house apart, stone by stone with his bare hands.
You laugh again, and then you scream as the Cruciatus curse tears through your body and your mind.
Pain is nothing. It's faithless, untruthful, limited, and it will go away. Unlike Harry.
On the upside, I still wasn't voted out of
rw_ldws. Here are the ficlets of the last weeks.Hope you are all well ♥ ♥ &hearts
Title: A Trip Down Memory Lane
Characters/Rating: Harry, Ron, PG
Word Count: 100
Author's Notes: Thanks and love to
thimble_kiss for the beta."We're in Scotland, yeah?" Harry asked, staring out of the window of their new flying car.
"'course." Ron paused. "I think."
Harry cursed. How they'd found Hogwarts in second year was a mystery. "This was a bad idea."
"That's what Hermione said." Ron had no idea where they were; they'd lost the railway tracks hours ago.
"Send her a Patronus?" Harry glared at their useless map.
Ron scowled. "She's waiting for it. We'll never live it down."
"Right. It's not that bad." Harry shivered. Rain was pelting on the roof of the wind-shaken vehicle.
"No," Ron muttered, unconvinced. "Not yet."
Title: Common Ground
Characters/Rating: Scabbers, Ron, PG-13
Word Count: 360
I'm a rat.
I'm stuck in a small, filthy animal body with my nose in the dirt and my mind relishing its primal state. I eat the food they give me; I sleep in the warm place they provide; I fuck the rats outside.
Perched on the shoulder of the little boy who took me when his brother found a better pet, I watch. I see. I recognise.
He's so desperate for attention that he befriends the first kid he meets on the train. My whiskers shake with mirthless laughter as I see the scar on the other's face. People court Potters. I've been there; I've done that. I almost want to protect him from humiliation when he whips out his wand and tries to cast the non-existent charm his idiot brothers have taught him. Cringing, I remember how it feels to be the punchline of the joke.
Everyday, I watch his frustration when he's outshone. Those standing next to him have titles like 'smartest witch', 'living bludgers', or 'the boy who lived', and he's just there. He's invisible and unnoticed. I know the dark place in his heart where he locks those moments away and hides them from the world. The place will grow. Potters are reliable.
I won't be here forever. There are rumours among students and teachers, among the ghosts and the creatures that crawl on the ground. The Dark Lord is calling them; he's calling us.
I'm going to betray the boy, and I'll add my share to the dark place.
And one day, someone will come along who recognises the darkness and knows how to manipulate it. I wonder what will happen. Is he a true Gryffindor? Loyal to death and insanity? Or will he break and destroy the lives of his friends? Will his family abandon him? Will he be maimed by someone he trusts?
He tries so hard to belong. It's a narrow path and a dangerous one.
A long time ago, there was another boy walking that path. Before he became a rat.
Title: Delicate Conversations
Characters/Rating: Ron, Harry, Ron/Hermione, Harry/Ginny, PG-13
Word Count: 435
"Ale?" Ron asked, shrugging off his work robes.
"Sure thing." Harry plopped down on the couch in t-shirt and boxers, making contented noises and scratching his groin.
Ron took two bottles of ale, uncapped them and followed Harry to the couch. It was heaven to sit down after a long workday. Ron handed Harry a bottle and took a deep swig from his own before he asked. "Why are we never talking about girls?"
Harry frowned. "Girls? Dunno. D'you wanna talk about them?"
Ron shrugged. "I've got one; you've got one; we're best mates."
Harry drank and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "All right."
"All right," Ron echoed.
Silence ensued.
Harry gestured with his bottle. "You wanna start or something?"
Ron tried to think of something to say. "Hermione. She's great," he said.
Harry snorted. "You don't say."
"And she's pretty. Like, you know..." his voice trailed away, and he thought of Hermione and her warm, soft body that he was finally allowed to touch. He smiled as he took another swig. Despite his exhausting job and all the problems with the recovering wizarding world, there were some things that were just perfect. Like Hermione's round, perky arse.
Harry hummed. "I know. Ginny's bloody gorgeous. And she's got perfect..." He made an awkward juggling gesture.
Ron watched him, scowling. "I don't think you want to finish that sentence." His big brother protectiveness was rearing its head.
Harry coughed, his hand falling down to his lap. "No, I don't think so either."
The silence was heavy between them, and Ron picked at the label of his ale. Finally he looked back at Harry. "You haven't touched them yet, have you?" There was an edge to his voice.
Harry frantically shook his head. "'Course not. Never."
"Ruddy liar," Ron muttered.
There was more silence.
"What about you? Have you...?" Harry made the gesture again.
Ron shrugged, and then he grinned and ducked his head. "I was over at her place last week after our date. And then we kissed, and she made that little noise, and then we went to her bedroom. Y'know, with the white sheets and the fluffy covers. She pulled off her shirt, and she let me-"
Harry raised his hand in defeat. "Okay, stop. If you say more, I'll have to kill myself."
Ron fell silent. He was both grateful and a tiny bit disappointed that he wouldn't have to recount the rest of the night. "We can't talk about this, can we?" he asked.
Harry shook his head. "Don't think so."
Ron nodded, sighed, and drank some more. "Quidditch?"
Harry's eyes lit up. "Did you see that pass from Hanglock last Saturday?"
Title: It Will Pass
Warnings: Violence
Featured Characters/Rating: Ron, Ron/Harry, R
Word Count: 300
Your own carelessness is the reason they catch you.
One moment, you are checking the parameters of the ancient manor, and a moment later, a well-aimed spell makes sure you don't resist when they carry you inside and bind you to a chair. You are disoriented from the lack of light and more so from repeated blows to the head.
You want to smack yourself. But you can't; rough ropes chafe your wrists and prevent you from moving even after the spell is lifted.
Your hooded captors know that Aurors come in pairs. They want to know where your partner is. You laugh at them until they split your lips and break your nose.
Then you laugh a little more.
Teeth can be replaced. Broken bones can be mended.
You know pain. It will pass.
A pair of green shoes, an unusual table, a strong accent, a woman yelling behind a thin wall, a name dropped during a muffled conversation – you're good at noticing details, and in your mind, you repeat them over and over again.
Pain is temporary.
They promise to let you live if you spill where he is. They'll spare your life if you rat him out like a good little captive.
You can't breathe, but you smile. Blood is running down your forehead and blurring your vision.
They have no idea who your partner is.
They have no idea that he is your life.
They don't know that if you can't save him, there is no reason to save yourself.
They have no bloody idea that Harry Potter is going to rip this house apart, stone by stone with his bare hands.
You laugh again, and then you scream as the Cruciatus curse tears through your body and your mind.
Pain is nothing. It's faithless, untruthful, limited, and it will go away. Unlike Harry.