This is my very first bunny burrow story. I've realised something about myself, something I've known for a long time now. I'm a procrastinator. I'll get the initial spark for the ideas that become stories I rush to type them out after they've fleshed out in my mind a bit then they sit on my computer molding away. Sometimes I post them but for the most part I don't. So I've decided to create the burrow. Instead of writing and postinf stories I know I'm not going to finish I'll post them here. Also this is a blanket permissionif you want to adopt one of my bunnies go ahead just mention my story as your inspiration. And also send me a link when you have it up. I'd love to read them. These are not beta'd mostly because I'm just posting them to get them off my brain. When it becomes your story you can fix them. That said some don't have many mistakes because I've had them a while and read out most of the problems.
Here's my first post it's a Mentalist/HarryPotter crossover. It's been percolating in my mind for a while now. Basically it's set just after the death of Jane's wife and daughter. I was originally going to have it be that Harry was knowingly adopted by the Janes instead of Petunia just dropping him off out of no where. But the story wanted to be written this way. The idea was that in the Mentalist Jane was always so obsessed with Red John that he pretty much ceased to live he was only surviving. So with Harry there he has to live if only to take care of this small abused child that has been plopped in his lap. The idea is that since it's not so long after the incident that he hasn't come to resent his skills so much. And that he will teach Harry to be observant too. But not to be a bad person. He doesn't want to become his father after all.
My Focus by Jully123 AKA Kenmei
It was not long after 'the incident' that he heard the door bell ring. Jane felt annoyance when they did not take the hint after the first unanswered ring. He rolled out of bed and threw on a robe. He walked from the couch he had been resting on. No way could he sleep back in that room. He yanked the front door open and peered blearily at a long horse-necked woman and small child that she had a firm hold on.
His gaze immediately sharpened even if his countenance did not has he saw the sharp hold the woman had on the young boy's upper arm instead of his hand. As if he was something unruly she had to reign in. The child did not even wince when she sharply wretched the child's arm. He could see the beginnings of a bruise. The woman was dressed conservatively in a flowered sundress and wearing a name brand purse. The child on the other hand was dressed in clothes so oversized for him it was practically laughable. The woman clearly didn't like the child and by the glimmer in the child's eye the feeling was mutual, even if it was not expressed.
All this observation took place in seconds. He looked toward the woman and waited for her to speak. "Well aren't you going to invite us in? I swear you Americans are always so rude." The crisp British accent rolled off her tongue with ease and the look of disdain increased.
"I believe the real question here is who are you and what are you doing on my property? I don't know you so why should I feel any obligation to invite you into my home?" His reply grated on her he could tell her type. Everything had a place in her world and if it was not in its place so help you lord.
She shoved the boy into his knees and reached down for the thick cardboard box at her feet. She quickly shoved that into his arms and then turned around and walked off with a huff and a, "He's your problem now I never wanted him." His brain shut down for precisely 30 seconds as he tried to process; his eyes flicking from the likely two to three year old child to the large box in his hand. His brain malfunction gave the woman enough time to walk to the waiting cab at the end of his driveway. He dropped the box to the grass as he tried to go after her. Who was she and why would she leave this child with him. It certainly wasn't his. He had been faithful to his wife. Her cab had had already turned a corner when he got to the end of the driveway.
He turned around and saw the kid was squatting beside the tumbled box and was replacing everything neatly back in with one hand while the other hands thumb was firmly in his mouth, the thumb only leaving long enough to replace the lid being careful that the saliva did not touch it. Once the box was all picked up he stayed in his squatted position and gazed up at him. He felt his heart clench. He had seen the contents as the kid was cleaning. More oversized clothes and several journals and manila folders. No toys or anything else.
He walked up and looked down at the child. He picked up the box and then reached down for the hand of the child. The child looked back at him with a blank expression on his face as if he had never seen the like in his life. With the bruise he saw peeking out from under the large sleeves of his shirt he probably hadn't. He gently took the young boy's hand and got the smallest most heartbreaking smile, as if no on had ever deemed to touch him with any care.
He walked slowly to match the boy's short stride to the living room. He placed the box on the coffee table and looked to the boy. He placed him on the couch; the boy squirmed on the cushion and then settled with thumb in mouth and looked unobtrusively at his surroundings. Jane looked to the box and opened the lid hoping for an explanation. He pulled the manila folder first. He opened it to find first a birth certificate for Harry James Potter, born to James and Lily Potter, nee Evans. He turned to the next document and found hospital and shot record for who he was now assuming was Harry. The next page was also a birth certificate, but it was for Lily Evans, born to Lily Evans and Alex Jane. He paused there as he flashbacked to images of his father and felt the ire of the moment. He had a sibling he had never known, a nephew even.
He turned the birth certificate aside and saw a newspaper clipping of a house that had part of the roof caved in and you could still see the smoke rising of the house. "Explosion in Godric's Hollow, Young Couple Killed" He quickly read through the article as it talked of a young family killed in a terrorist attack by a local cult leader. The article was vague and only mentioned that the young couple's son had survived and was moved to someplace safe.
The next thing he found in the folder was a very clinical letter. It was signed Petunia Dursley. It stated that after her sister and brother-in-law had been killed that the boy had been left on her doorstep in the dead of night for her to find with the milk bottles in the morning with only a blanket and short letter in hand. She explained the estrangement between her and her sister and how she begrudgingly took her nephew in. She talked about how she had been cleaning the attic space when she had come upon her mother's old journals and hers and Lily's medical and baby documents.
The journals hadn't been of much interest until she had seen that the father of Lily's certificate was not her father. Her Father's name was Patrick Evans. She said she had included her mother's journal that talked of the tryst with the carnie man and the pregnancy there out of her bastard brat. Petunia's words not his. The letter was written coldly but he could read between the lines the jealously and hatred that Petunia held for her sister. She said to close the letter off that if he didn't want the boy than he was to be sent to an orphanage because he was not to come back to her. She wrote that she had never signed the custody papers and so he was not her problem. She left no contact number and no address.
That was the last item in the folder aside from some custody paper's that was written out on parchment oddly. The transferred custody to the family of Lily Potter nee Evans, the spot that listed the names had not been filled in. The only parts filled out were the signature of some official named Albus Dumbledore. He was about to go after the journals when he heard a gurgling growl. He whipped his head around and noticed the bright green eyes of the child had been averted to the side. His thumb was still in his mouth and he had his other arm wrapped around his stomach. "Well it seems you've had a rough time. Why don't we get you something to eat while I try to figure this out?"
Very short and rough but that's the general idea for this story. Like I said earlier feel free to adopt just mention me in the author's note.