angelgazing (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
angelgazing) wrote2005-02-06 08:22 pm
angelgazing) wrote2005-02-06 08:22 pm
ficlet yay
An untitled ficlet written to make sure I can still write. (Am still unsure)
George with a side of Harry/Draco
words: 521
rating: PG?
prompts: George, cup, red, church, wind
notes: Prompts by Twin. This could fit into AWAAOA, if a person wanted it to. I assume you don't. Also, unedited and written in 27 minutes.
George paces, back and forth, back and forth. The heels of his dragon-hide boots click a steady rhythm on the uneven floor.
The waves of the Atlantic crash on the shore just outside, hard and unrelenting. And it may take a hundred thousand years, but they water will wash away the beach, the church. It'll leave this town to dust and sand beneath the sea. Let all the little fishes that're left swim where he stands now.
He shudders, his palm sliding across the back of a pew as he paces. There's a splinter digging in, but he almost doesn't notice.
Tracking spells are unpredictable, hard to do from close or far. And Harry's got the kind of magic that protects him without even trying. Makes his aunt blow up like a Muggle balloon and lets snakes out of their cages without so much as a thought to it. They'd wondered why it was that they couldn't get a trace on Malfoy, but George can see now it's because Harry doesn't want them found.
Throws off spells for miles while he sleeps, still so much more powerful than he understands.
At sunset light hits the stained glass windows hard, sends the church into red like the light of God is standing outside and shining in. The church bells ring out across the waves and are carried by the wind over the tiny ocean town, and George might be able to see the appeal to this place after all, maybe. But he's never been able to stand sunset in churches, not since they didn't all return.
Night falls quietly over this place, easier than it seems to anywhere else. And he steps outside, finally, with his hat pulled down over his eyes and his fingers sliding across the chipped white painted wooden banister along the steps outside.
There's salt in the air, heavy and hungry. It makes his breath hitch, just a little, as it fills his lungs and the memory of a too deep breath when he found Harry only to find him walking hand in hand with Malfoy cuts him more than it should.
He wonders what he'll tell Hermione, and how he'll look Fred in the eye and lie to him, but he doesn't wonder than he's going to.
His stomach growls like hungry sabre-tooth tiger, angry at being cooped up all day inside a house of God, hiding from the man that he's almost sure to be a saviour. And his feet walk into the diner across from where he's staying almost on their own.
Harry sits at the table by the window, the ghost of something hanging over his shoulder as Malfoy shifts in his seat and smiles softly, like an apology in itself. They both have their hands wrapped tight around seaming cups and George doesn't breathe as he walks past them, but he does.
His order is short, and clipped, and he doesn't know what he's doing, but he does.
Malfoy and Harry walk out hand in hand, smiling and almost relieved, and George makes plans to go home the next day.
George with a side of Harry/Draco
words: 521
rating: PG?
prompts: George, cup, red, church, wind
notes: Prompts by Twin. This could fit into AWAAOA, if a person wanted it to. I assume you don't. Also, unedited and written in 27 minutes.
George paces, back and forth, back and forth. The heels of his dragon-hide boots click a steady rhythm on the uneven floor.
The waves of the Atlantic crash on the shore just outside, hard and unrelenting. And it may take a hundred thousand years, but they water will wash away the beach, the church. It'll leave this town to dust and sand beneath the sea. Let all the little fishes that're left swim where he stands now.
He shudders, his palm sliding across the back of a pew as he paces. There's a splinter digging in, but he almost doesn't notice.
Tracking spells are unpredictable, hard to do from close or far. And Harry's got the kind of magic that protects him without even trying. Makes his aunt blow up like a Muggle balloon and lets snakes out of their cages without so much as a thought to it. They'd wondered why it was that they couldn't get a trace on Malfoy, but George can see now it's because Harry doesn't want them found.
Throws off spells for miles while he sleeps, still so much more powerful than he understands.
At sunset light hits the stained glass windows hard, sends the church into red like the light of God is standing outside and shining in. The church bells ring out across the waves and are carried by the wind over the tiny ocean town, and George might be able to see the appeal to this place after all, maybe. But he's never been able to stand sunset in churches, not since they didn't all return.
Night falls quietly over this place, easier than it seems to anywhere else. And he steps outside, finally, with his hat pulled down over his eyes and his fingers sliding across the chipped white painted wooden banister along the steps outside.
There's salt in the air, heavy and hungry. It makes his breath hitch, just a little, as it fills his lungs and the memory of a too deep breath when he found Harry only to find him walking hand in hand with Malfoy cuts him more than it should.
He wonders what he'll tell Hermione, and how he'll look Fred in the eye and lie to him, but he doesn't wonder than he's going to.
His stomach growls like hungry sabre-tooth tiger, angry at being cooped up all day inside a house of God, hiding from the man that he's almost sure to be a saviour. And his feet walk into the diner across from where he's staying almost on their own.
Harry sits at the table by the window, the ghost of something hanging over his shoulder as Malfoy shifts in his seat and smiles softly, like an apology in itself. They both have their hands wrapped tight around seaming cups and George doesn't breathe as he walks past them, but he does.
His order is short, and clipped, and he doesn't know what he's doing, but he does.
Malfoy and Harry walk out hand in hand, smiling and almost relieved, and George makes plans to go home the next day.