Title: The Sniper
Author: Shinigami06
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, or any of Liam O'Flaherty's work. Just borrowing.
Summary: Based on the story by Liam O'Flaherty; There was the dark side. And there was the light. The war has pitted children against parents, sister against sister, brother against brother.
Spoilers: All the books, I think.
Rating: PG-13, maybe R. Not really sure. Very angsty.
Warnings: Character death, slashy hints (very few)
Authors Note: Just a little plot bunny that came out. Tell me how it turned out.
The Sniper
The long July twilight faded into night. Hogsmede lay covered in darkness both inside and out. Voldemort and his Death Eaters had long ago begun attacking the town and it's inhabitants. All around, the sounds of battle could be heard. Curses were being thrown left and right. Dark and Light wizards and witches were waging a civil war.
On a rooftop near where the Three Broomsticks used to be, a wizard lay watching. Beside him lay his wand, and over his shoulders hung a torn invisibility cloak, only large enough to cover his head and shoulders. The only remnants of his lost love. His face was the face of a student, thin and aristocratic, but his eyes had the cold gleam of a fanatic. They were stormy gray, deep and thoughtful; the kind of eyes of a man used to looking death in the face, and sneering at it.
The young, silvery-blonde boy devoured a sandwich, the only thing he had eaten since early that morning. He had been much too excited to eat. The sandwich was finished, and he took a short draught of fire whiskey from his flask. He pondered a moment, whether he should risk a smoke or not. The enemy was always watching. But he decided to take the risk. Those muggle smokes sure were addictive.
Placing the cigarette between his lips, he lit it with his wand, inhaled the smoke hurriedly and put out the light. Almost instantly a curse crashed into the wall above his head, sending chunks of debris onto him. The wizard took one last whiff and put it out. He swore softly and crawled away to the right.
Cautiously he raised himself and glanced over the edge of the roof. There was a flash and another curse whistled dangerously close to his head. He dropped back down immediately. He had seen the origin of the flash. The opposite side of the street.
Rolling over the roof to the chimney stack at the rear, he slowly drew himself up behind it, until his eyes were level with the top of the roof. There was nothing to be seen of any importance. His enemy had taken cover.
Just then, a number of wizards Apparated into the middle of the street, continuing a duel. He wanted to fire, but knew it was useless. He could not get a good, clean enough shot to make risking his life worth while.
A young girl, barely ten years old, came around the corner, pointing to the roof the other wizard hid on. An informer. She told the duelers who had come out alive that he was up there. The wizards raised there wands, but not before the "sniper" took them out with two well placed curses. Then, the man sank back into the shadows.
The blonde boy watched this all with detachment. He had grown used to seeing people die right in front of his eyes. Or just walk out on him.
Suddenly from the opposite roof, the wizard shot a spell at the gray-eyed boy, hitting his arm. He dropped his wand, which made a racket that could wake the dead. He reached out to grab it. His arm didn't move. His entire forearm was dead. "Dammit. I'm hit."
Dropping flat onto the roof, he ripped part of his cloak off and tried to make a splint. The jostling of his injury nearly made him cry out in agony. Nearly. When he finished, he lay still against the roof, closing his eyes in an effort of will to overcome the pain.
The wizard lay still for a long time, nursing his wounded arm and planning an escape. Morning must not find him wounded on the roof. The enemy on the opposite roof covered his escape. He must kill that enemy but he could not use his wand. All he had was a muggle revolver. Then he thought of a plan.
Taking off the cap covering his easily identifiable silver-blonde hair, he placed it on the end of his wand. Then he pushed the wand slowly upward, until the cap was visible from the opposite side of the street. Almost immediately there was a curse thrown that pierced the center of the cap. It came off the wand and flew down to the street. Then, catching his wand before it too hit the street, the wizard dropped his hand over the roof and let it hang limply. After several moments, the wand fell out of his hand. Then he sank to the floor of the roof, dragging his hand with him.
Crawling quickly to the right, he peered up at the corner of the roof. His little act had worked. The other wizard, who obviously thought he was dead, had risen to his feet, clearly silhouetted against the western sky.
The wizard let a ghost of a smile grace his lips. He took steady aim with the revolver, and shot true. The bullet hit the unsuspecting wizard square in the chest, causing him to sway. Then he lost his balance and tumbled to the street below. He hit the ground with a dull thud. Then it lay still.
The gray-eyed boy looked at his enemy lying facedown in a puddle of his own blood. Then he looked at the smoking revolver in his hand, and hurled it to the roof at his feet. Another death he had caused.
Taking the whiskey flask from his cloak, he emptied it with one chug. He decided to leave the roof, and go check in with his commander. Everywhere around was quiet. There was not much danger of going through the streets. Then he crawled down through the skylight to the Three Broomsticks underneath.
When the wizard reached the doorway, he felt the sudden urge to discover the identity of his enemy. The guy was a good shot, whoever he was. Maybe he even knew him, in school, before the all out fighting had broken out. He decided to risk going over to have a look at him. In the upper part of the street, there were curses being tossed, but around here all was quiet.
The silver-blonde, gray eyed young man darted across the street. Curses were thrown every which way, landing all around him, but he escaped. He threw himself face downward beside the corpse. The curses stopped.
Then the wizard turned over the dead body, and looked into the dead, emerald-green eyes of his lover.
~*~
I know, it's so sad. The idea just popped into my head. Had to write it down. Yes, it is an implied Harry/Draco pairing. Please review.
Shingami06
Author: Shinigami06
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, or any of Liam O'Flaherty's work. Just borrowing.
Summary: Based on the story by Liam O'Flaherty; There was the dark side. And there was the light. The war has pitted children against parents, sister against sister, brother against brother.
Spoilers: All the books, I think.
Rating: PG-13, maybe R. Not really sure. Very angsty.
Warnings: Character death, slashy hints (very few)
Authors Note: Just a little plot bunny that came out. Tell me how it turned out.
The Sniper
The long July twilight faded into night. Hogsmede lay covered in darkness both inside and out. Voldemort and his Death Eaters had long ago begun attacking the town and it's inhabitants. All around, the sounds of battle could be heard. Curses were being thrown left and right. Dark and Light wizards and witches were waging a civil war.
On a rooftop near where the Three Broomsticks used to be, a wizard lay watching. Beside him lay his wand, and over his shoulders hung a torn invisibility cloak, only large enough to cover his head and shoulders. The only remnants of his lost love. His face was the face of a student, thin and aristocratic, but his eyes had the cold gleam of a fanatic. They were stormy gray, deep and thoughtful; the kind of eyes of a man used to looking death in the face, and sneering at it.
The young, silvery-blonde boy devoured a sandwich, the only thing he had eaten since early that morning. He had been much too excited to eat. The sandwich was finished, and he took a short draught of fire whiskey from his flask. He pondered a moment, whether he should risk a smoke or not. The enemy was always watching. But he decided to take the risk. Those muggle smokes sure were addictive.
Placing the cigarette between his lips, he lit it with his wand, inhaled the smoke hurriedly and put out the light. Almost instantly a curse crashed into the wall above his head, sending chunks of debris onto him. The wizard took one last whiff and put it out. He swore softly and crawled away to the right.
Cautiously he raised himself and glanced over the edge of the roof. There was a flash and another curse whistled dangerously close to his head. He dropped back down immediately. He had seen the origin of the flash. The opposite side of the street.
Rolling over the roof to the chimney stack at the rear, he slowly drew himself up behind it, until his eyes were level with the top of the roof. There was nothing to be seen of any importance. His enemy had taken cover.
Just then, a number of wizards Apparated into the middle of the street, continuing a duel. He wanted to fire, but knew it was useless. He could not get a good, clean enough shot to make risking his life worth while.
A young girl, barely ten years old, came around the corner, pointing to the roof the other wizard hid on. An informer. She told the duelers who had come out alive that he was up there. The wizards raised there wands, but not before the "sniper" took them out with two well placed curses. Then, the man sank back into the shadows.
The blonde boy watched this all with detachment. He had grown used to seeing people die right in front of his eyes. Or just walk out on him.
Suddenly from the opposite roof, the wizard shot a spell at the gray-eyed boy, hitting his arm. He dropped his wand, which made a racket that could wake the dead. He reached out to grab it. His arm didn't move. His entire forearm was dead. "Dammit. I'm hit."
Dropping flat onto the roof, he ripped part of his cloak off and tried to make a splint. The jostling of his injury nearly made him cry out in agony. Nearly. When he finished, he lay still against the roof, closing his eyes in an effort of will to overcome the pain.
The wizard lay still for a long time, nursing his wounded arm and planning an escape. Morning must not find him wounded on the roof. The enemy on the opposite roof covered his escape. He must kill that enemy but he could not use his wand. All he had was a muggle revolver. Then he thought of a plan.
Taking off the cap covering his easily identifiable silver-blonde hair, he placed it on the end of his wand. Then he pushed the wand slowly upward, until the cap was visible from the opposite side of the street. Almost immediately there was a curse thrown that pierced the center of the cap. It came off the wand and flew down to the street. Then, catching his wand before it too hit the street, the wizard dropped his hand over the roof and let it hang limply. After several moments, the wand fell out of his hand. Then he sank to the floor of the roof, dragging his hand with him.
Crawling quickly to the right, he peered up at the corner of the roof. His little act had worked. The other wizard, who obviously thought he was dead, had risen to his feet, clearly silhouetted against the western sky.
The wizard let a ghost of a smile grace his lips. He took steady aim with the revolver, and shot true. The bullet hit the unsuspecting wizard square in the chest, causing him to sway. Then he lost his balance and tumbled to the street below. He hit the ground with a dull thud. Then it lay still.
The gray-eyed boy looked at his enemy lying facedown in a puddle of his own blood. Then he looked at the smoking revolver in his hand, and hurled it to the roof at his feet. Another death he had caused.
Taking the whiskey flask from his cloak, he emptied it with one chug. He decided to leave the roof, and go check in with his commander. Everywhere around was quiet. There was not much danger of going through the streets. Then he crawled down through the skylight to the Three Broomsticks underneath.
When the wizard reached the doorway, he felt the sudden urge to discover the identity of his enemy. The guy was a good shot, whoever he was. Maybe he even knew him, in school, before the all out fighting had broken out. He decided to risk going over to have a look at him. In the upper part of the street, there were curses being tossed, but around here all was quiet.
The silver-blonde, gray eyed young man darted across the street. Curses were thrown every which way, landing all around him, but he escaped. He threw himself face downward beside the corpse. The curses stopped.
Then the wizard turned over the dead body, and looked into the dead, emerald-green eyes of his lover.
~*~
I know, it's so sad. The idea just popped into my head. Had to write it down. Yes, it is an implied Harry/Draco pairing. Please review.
Shingami06