This is one I wrote last year and never had the chance to edit and upload to the site. It's weird, because I used to write such nice happy endings, and looking at some stuff I've written more recently I can see some dark recurring themes in them. Most of which I haven't uploaded here because it's either
a) worthless ramble with no plot line
b) not actually a fan fic
c) so badly written I'd embarrass myself by uploading it
d) all of the above
so it was a nice surprise to stumble across one that I'd actually finished, that I got written down, that had a hint of a plot line and actually had a happy ending. So even if you think this story is stupid and it's got no point, or that it's just another excuse for me to talk about the Weasley twins (even though it's that, too) this is just a story I wrote when I was happy and I'm proud to say that even though I've had rough times in my life, I know I have been happy and I know I'm luckier than some.
So if you like pointless romance and happy endings that don't need an explanation (or a sequel, for that matter), then read on. :)
This is chapter one of The Ravenclaw.
The Ravenclaw
Chapter One
The house was small, a perfectly ordinary suburban home with a small garden out the front, roses sitting behind a picket fence with faded white paint. Vines crawled on the red bricks of the house and the light shadows of early morning and lazy, soft sunlight as the sun began to reach over the horizon.
The house was perfectly ordinary.
In the front window of the house, a person could easily see the familiar mess of life, magazines scattered on the kitchen bench, paintings slightly crooked on the wall from people having brushed past them. The photo shelf was straining to hold up all of the frames full of memories on it. The pillows on the couch were out of order, random colours that didn't match.
It felt like home.
Further along the hall, a girl looked in her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Long, dark hair fell across her face, and she brushed it back to reveal high cheekbones sitting below deep set, sapphire blue eyes, and above her eyes hovered curiously slanted eyebrows. Her jaw line was sharp and her nose was small and pointed – her general face structure was that of a sharp, elegant nature.
She pulled back her silky, dark hair, pulling it into a ponytail, then she let it fall back down again. She gathered it together again, and let it out again, looking at it from a few different angles and repeating the process before she sighed and let it down, walking into the living area.
She wore dark blue jeans and dainty lace up leather shoes. She had a charcoal grey button down cardigan hanging over her shoulders loosely. She had a slim, lithe figure that was elegant and athletic at the same time. She seemed to have long legs and arms but she wasn't particularly tall, only a little above average. She liked not being short anymore, like she used to be.
She walked through the living room, the curtains drawn back so that the soft morning light washed through the house, and she walked through the light to her bedroom, where her trunk lay waiting, almost ready to go.
She placed the last few items inside – a few more books (she liked classics), a small padded package and a few bottles of product that looked ever so cosmetic. She was a girl, after all.
She shut the top of her trunk, after surveying the contents inside one more time – the enormous pile of books, the dark school clothes, the plain casual clothes, a broomstick and a collection of small leather boxes, which sat quietly in the back corner, and on top of them were a few odd objects – small toys and trinkets which you wouldn't find in your every day supermarket or gift shop.
She stood up again, brushing her hair over her shoulder, and she picked up one end of her trunk and began to drag it out to the front of the house, making it look easy.
And anyone looking in the front door would have seen a thin wooden object sticking out of her back pocket that looked strangely like a wand...