Disclamer: I do not own Harry Potter, and I never will. I'm perfectly happy with leaving that to JK Rowling.
Author's Note: I took my lack of internet last night as an opportunity to finally get this story rolling. I've been roleplaying Harry Potter a lot lately, and I decided that I should stop squandering my effort on starting a whole bunch of roleplays that go nowhere and actually focus on writing something. That said, enjoy!
Prologue
Discomfort and Discontent
In retrospect the feeling was similar to that of having someone rip out your entrails and throw them down a hole, then picking up your lifeless husk and throwing it down after them. Provided you were somehow reassembled before you hit the floor.
Moaning in mingled pain and nausea, a black haired young man lay on the floor, clutching his stomach as he tried to collect himself. Could he take this feeling of agony that had been described to him earlier as a sign that it had worked?
Almost as if to prove that he would in fact suffer each and every foreseen symptom of the trip, he felt his gut lurch and rolled over just in time to vomit on something that wasn't himself. After he was finished being sick, he withdrew from the position for obvious reasons and propped himself up against the wall while he waited for his body to steady itself.
Just as he was considering his first attempt at standing up, the young man overheard a noise which would demand pre-emptive action; the moody opening of the door at the head of the nearby stairs. Getting up much faster than he would have liked to, the teen wobbled behind a collection of trunks and other age old rubbish before collapsing again onto the dusty basement floor.
Unable to actually see what was going on from this position, he overheard the tail end of what promised to have been an intense conversation. Staring at the roof while laying on his back, he clearly identified that someone was stomping down the stairs. These footsteps were soon followed by the softer steps of another person.
"Don't worry 'Mione…He'll be fine. We'll be fine," a familiar male voice spoke, seemingly coming from the newest arrival. There was a pause, then the sound of a poorly concealed sniffle.
"I can't just stop worrying because you tell me to…" the other person said. The voice was that of a teenage girl, edged with a forced maturity; a tone that the eavesdropper placed almost immediately. However, he still couldn't help but wish that the sickness in his head and gut would subside so he could listen in with more clarity.
"I know, but I'm telling you that you shouldn't worry-"
"Oh, and why is that?" the female voice shot back haughtily.
"Because there's nothing you can do, so there's really no point in it is there?" the other replied, obviously trying quite hard to smother his rising frustration.
"It's not about there being a point! Human emotion does not do what it does because there is a point. I just can't…" Her voice trailed off, interrupted by something he couldn't detect without being able to see. The only evidence of movement he could hear was the faint rustle of cloth against cloth.
"Hermione…" the male murmured quietly.
There was a long silence, in which the black haired young man began to worry that the quiet zephyr of his breath would be enough to give him away.
"…Ron," she replied at last, and he could hear the smile in her voice even from behind the thick wall of trunks. A severe tightness went through his chest, almost causing him to be sick again.
"Come on, let's go back upstairs," the male replied serenely, the subtle shuffling of feet hinting that they were moving towards the steps. "Ginny'll be wondering where we went."
"Yes, of course…" she said somewhat reluctantly, then added after a moment of thought. "We can't just leave her alone up there."
"I wonder if- What are you looking at?"
"Is that…vomit?"
There was a moment where they presumably paused to get a closer inspection.
"Bloody drunks probably came in here some night. Er…Just leave it. Let's go find Ginny," the male said with distaste in his voice, and soon after the two rushed up the stairs and out the door.
At last the knee shaking illness was starting to leave his body, so, after checking the coast was clear, the messy haired young man decided to try standing. He managed it without buckling, a small yet crucial victory, and crossed past the piles of odds and ends to the center of the room.
While he no longer felt like falling over, the pressure in his chest remained. Ignoring this, the youth withdrew a wand, giving it a few hesitant waves. How long would it be before he could cast without worrying about collapsing?
Unfortunately there was no time to wait. From the sounds of it, he was still off somewhere alone, which would be the only opportune time to strike. Sighing sadly in anticipation of the discomfort he was going to put his body through once again, he suffered the usual gut twisting sensation as he Disapparated from the room.
End Note: Just a short opening thing. I posted it mostly so I would have some responsibility to actually continue with it. I've let far too many fictions drop over the years.
Well, I'll have the first real chapter up as soon as possible. Meanwhile, reviews would be appreciated. A big part of the reason I'm posting fanfiction now is to get commentary on my writing. And believe me, the more you harass me the faster I'll work.
Luv, Radio