DISCLAIMER: I do not believe the contents of this fic in any way reflect J.K. Rowling's intentions towards the Harry Potter series. Lyrics from 'Your Song', by Elton John; also do not believe Elton John intended for them to be used in this manner.

Your Egg

It's a little bit funny this feeling inside
I'm not one of those who can easily hide
I don't have much money but boy if I did
I'd buy a big house where we both could live

Harry was having a very long day. Neville had set his hair on fire during Charms, his potions had blown up in Potions, and to make matters worse the Second Task was looming darkly ahead. All he had to prevent himself from immenent doom is an egg. Harry loved that egg. There it sat upon his school trunk glittering voluptuously in the sunlight; dew from the open window causing a sheen of what may as well have been sweat upon its golden flesh.

It may have been a human, it understood him so well. Harry's gaze settled upon it, a soft caress amid the scorned chaos of his soulful face. For just a moment Harry had the odd feeling he was looking at himself; this cheered him immensely and caused his heart to swarm with joy. The egg appeared to be unaffected (though Harry did not notice).

Standing up, Harry crossed the room in three broad strides and laid a shaking hand upon the egg's dazzling surface. Calm seemed to swarm through the atoms connecting the miniscule space left between him palm and the egg's surface; but never before had Harry faced a distance so immense and dissatisfying. He longed to be closer. To be one with egg.

Just then Ronald Weasley's voice sounded through the air, awkward and disjointed as a bullhorn. Harry jumped up, shaken and slightly annoyed as Ron stared at him and said, "Come on Harry! It's time for dinner! Worry about the egg later!"

Adjusting his glasses Harry followed Ron slowly out of the room, mind wandering back to the egg, the distance between them inversely proportional to the agony it caused within his soul.


If I was a sculptor, but then again, no
Or a man who makes potions in a traveling show
I know it's not much but it's the best I can do
My gift is my song and this one's for you

Dinner was an agonizing affair for young Harry Potter, who had never before been so overcome with such a deep, passionate array of feeling and desires. Ron and Hermione shot him concerned looks frequently throughout dinner; but Harry did not even notice, even after he accidentally swallowed a spoon.

Coughing as he settled in to go to bed Harry peaked out between his curtains at the egg, glistening in the moonlight. Attempting to ignore the course of desire this image shot through his soul Harry rolled over and shut tightly, drifting off into a land without worry or fear, in his dreams, where all he had to do was enjoy days upon days of sunlight, glistening gold, and his hand resting upon the cool surface of his egg.

And you can tell everybody this is your song
It may be quite simple but now that it's done
I hope you don't mind
I hope you don't mind that I put down in words
How wonderful life is while you're in the world

What seemed like weeks (but was really only a day) passed before Harry had a chance to be alone with his egg. Tearing through the halls Harry ignored the shocked looks of those around him as him as shoved them out his path. Finally he stood, gasping and sweating, the eggs looking balefully up him, asking him not with its eyes but with its soul, "Where have you been Harry? I've been here all alone, waiting for you to return so that we may spend more time together".

Harry dropped to his knees in despair, not daring to touch his love with his selfish, presumptuous limbs. Never before had his own body parts seemed so hideous to him, dragging out from his core all awkward angles and loose bits. What he would give to be egg-shaped, so that he and the egg could be compatible in body as well as heart.

"I'm sorry! My insignificant life has kept me away, but never will it do so again. Tonight, egg, we will escape from Hogwarts and I'll use my parents' fortune to buy a big house where we both can live," Harry whispered earnestly into the silent, expectant air of his dormitory.

The egg sat silently for a moment and then a ray of moonlight passed upon it, giving it such an air of agreement and acceptance that Harry could come to no other conclusion than that the egg had just pledged its life to him. Harry let out an excited whoop and stood up abruptly. He gave a start as he met Ron's accusing eyes from across the room, his face hurt and slightly possessed.

"Harry! You didn't tell me you had found a lover! I'm one of your best friends and you don't even trust me enough to tell me about your love life!" Ron glared at the egg coldly. "And you! Letting Harry get away with it! Well, that's it! We're all done with you!"

And with that, Ron raced over, picked up the egg, and hurled it out the window. Harry let out a scream of agony and raced towards the window, flailing about as his arms hit empty air. Sobs ripped through him, like a knife through chicken broth, stabbing just far enough below the surface to pierce the solidity lurking below.

"Ron! Look what you've done," Harry shouted despairingly, beating his fists upon the wall. "Look. What. You. Have. Done."

Ron stood flabbergasted in middle of the room.

"Harry…you and Egg….I mean, you hadn't gotten that close yet, had you?"

Immediate silence met his remark as Harry stared blankly at the boy who had formerly been his closest friend. How could Ron not understand the enormity of what he had just done to Harry, and to the Egg. The Egg who had become Harry's soul mate, whose appearance was like a soothing medicine and comfort to all Harry's miseries and illnesses throughout life.

"You don't understand, Ron. Get out. Or I'll throw you out."

Ron and Harry stared at one another, and knew their friendship would never be the same again.

I sat on the roof and kicked off the moss
Well a few of the verses well they've got me quite cross
But the sun's been quite kind while I wrote this song
It's for people like you that keep it turned on

After Ron had stomped down the stairs, leaving Harry on the floor, sobbing earnestly, no one had appeared in the dormitory for hours. Harry was left to nurse his pain in private. Eventually he stood up, stiff and numb not just in his limbs but his soul. Reaching blindly for his broom and popped out the window and into the night, flying gracefully to the ground where his Egg lay.

To any normal observer the Egg looked innocuous and perfectly normal. But Harry could see the truth; only hours before the Egg had had a palpable air of life and joy in its breathtaking sheen. Now there was only the dull appearance of regular gold, dim in the darkness and lonely in the lack of companionship and connection it exuded.

Egg had died. Now, it was just Harry.


So excuse me forgetting but these things I do
You see I've forgotten if they're green or they're blue
Anyway the thing is what I really mean
Yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen

A/N: The untold fight between Ron and Harry during the 4th book. It's not just about jealousy anymore.

This idea was birthed when my sister and I were examined the internet, desperately seeking fabled amusements which did not exist, sadly. So, we wrote this, for amusement of all. And I do hope that all were amused. Or at least, vaguely horrified and disgusted that anyone had the audacity to write a fic about a sad little egg and sad little boy finding love in this sad little world.

NOTE FROM SISTER: I promise I'M not this insane. My sister on the other hand most certainly is. I really hope that you were at least slightly weirded out or humored by this fic, or you may want to sign up for some psychiatric sessions.