Imma Kiwi Bird: Remember; I won't be updating in a specific schedule. xD OH. I got my Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix ticket today! I couldn't go at midnight on the 10th (damn my mother), so I'm going at the earliest I could on the 11th! Nine-thirty. I also got a bunch of HP merchandise from Hot Topic. I love it all. x3
I plan to get either three or four chapters out by the time the movie is released. So; you can look forward to that. 3 I'll name off what those chapters would be:
Seeking Solace
Break Away
Heaven
Innocence
Okay; well... I'll leave ya'll here. 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter; JK Rowling does.
Storybook
Dark
The next day, there was no story from their normal storyteller. She had fallen ill, and had gone to St. Mungo's to see if there was anything seriously wrong with her. Her husband had left with her, telling the other four adults in the house he thought he knew what was wrong. He left the house with a smug grin, obviously proud. One woman with red hair and another with blonde had chatted for hours on end about what was happening, while the two men still at the home conversed about Quidditch.
Throughout the whole time, seven children pestered them about their normal story time until finally, the woman with sweeping red hair cracked and announced that she would get them some butterbeer and read them their cursed story. All four girls and three boys cheered and scurried off to the reading room.
The red-haired woman come in, the butterbeers floating midair in front of her wand. With a flick, the frothy drinks floated down into outstretch hands. The woman sat down in the squishy armchair, the leather-bound book floating before her. The other woman, the blonde, came striding in slowly, taking a seat on the ground behind Christopher.
"Okay... let's see where the baby-popper left off..." The red-haired woman began, tapping the pages to make them turn. The blonde let out a watery giggle, a small smile on her lips as her friend started the story.
Neville leaned over the table, squirting the rare plant with pesticide to rid of the, of course, pests that tried to live on it. He frowned heavily, straightening back up and stretching.
He was in his greenhouse's greenhouse; a place he stored either rare or special plants, or plants sensitive to the light. Indeed, he was tending to a rare American Moonbouh, which was so sensitive to light it needed to live in utter darkness. So, here he was, in the dark; his wand in one hand, and a can of pesticide in the other.
Neville turned to leave when the greenhouse door flew open. Luna stood in the doorway, looking flustered. Neville yelped, trying to shield his precious American Moonbouh, but it was too late. The plant started to take on a burnt look on the leaves, and the bud in the center opened and started letting out a nasty gas with an even worse stench.
"Close the door!" Neville yelled, storming past Luna and pushing her aside. He slammed the greenhouse's greenhouse door shut, glaring at Luna and crossing his arms.
She didn't glare back, only continued to look flustered.
"Neville-"
"Luna, you know that the American Moonbouh needs to be in COMPLETE darkness or else it starts to die!" He said angrily. Luna looked at the door, which her husband and stormed through and shut, before looking back at him.
"That's where it happened, actually. In the dark."
"What?" Neville felt his anger dwindle at this odd comment. He stared at Luna, wondering what was going on in her head.
"I'm pregnant again; and that's where it happened. In the dark." Luna responded bluntly, rocking back and forth on her heels. She took to gazing at all of Neville's plants, ignoring her stammering husband.
"You... are... what? How... the dark?" Neville slumped, staring at her. She turned to him, smiling.
"Go on back into the dark. I'll be inside."
The blonde haired woman grinned, staring at the little blonde girl who was sitting next to Christopher. Chris whispered something to her, and the little girl turned to look at the woman.
"I don't like plants as much as Chris." She said bluntly, making said Christopher to slump down and look quite sad. The woman smiled.
"I know, Celeste."
The red-haired storyteller took a swig of her own butterbeer, and a few children followed suit. She then tapped the pages a few times before beginning the story again.
They were kissing in the dark. The dark because no light could reach them. Why, you may ask? Because they happened to be in a goddamned closet. The reason for this was because Ginny's brother was on a ruthless search to find Harry, and they just couldn't have that, could they? The passion was far to high right now, and the two lovers would not have it interrupted.
Ginny pulled away from Harry, suddenly very quiet. Harry was about to continue kissing her when he stopped as well. Footsteps were echoing outside in the hallway, and by the voices that accompanied them, it was Ron on patrol with his mother.
Harry cursed, fumbling to find his glasses. Sliding them up his nose, he straightened out his shirt and helped Ginny find her headband. It was hard to find it in the dark, and neither would try a Lumos charm in fear of being found. After finding and pushing the headband on her head Ginny attempted to calm herself. She was aware she had to be very, very, very flushed, because-
The closet door opened, and there stood Mrs. Weasley, Ron towering behind her. Ron grimaced, and Mrs. Weasley's mouth hung open at the sight of her daughter and not-yet-husband crammed into a dark cupboard.
"What were you doing in there?" Mrs. Weasley asked, cleverly masking the dangerous tone in her voice. Harry and Ginny dared to look at each other while Ginny answered.
"We were talking in the dark. It's fun. Do it with dad sometime." Mrs. Weasley turned as red as her hair and she turned, knocking into Ron. Apologizing, she left down the hall, mumbling to herself. Ron raised an eyebrow, leaning on the doorframe.
"Talking in the dark," He said simply, grinning at his sister. She glared back.
He turned and followed his mother's trail. He stopped at the top of the stairs.
"And, by the way, Ginny; your face is redder than a tomato; I could see that even though you were in the dark. Use a charm to fix it, alright?" And he went down the stairs.
The woman telling the story ended the chapter quite red in the face, glancing at her blonde companion. Her friend sighed and stood, as did the temporary storyteller. The blonde took the red-haired woman's spot, and the red-haired one said she was going to fetch some treacle fudge. The blonde woman then began the story quickly.
Hermione frowned up at the ceiling, eyes darting back and forth nervously. She gripped the arm of her sleeping husband, letting out a whimper as a shadow danced on their wall. She let out a raspy breath when he didn't even stir in his slumber.
Hermione turned over, but she still gripped Ron's arm. She nearly let out a cry when more shadows began to clamber over each other and the wall before her. She turned over quickly again, snuggling up against Ron's side. He smiled slightly in his sleep, but otherwise did nothing. Hermione frowned, touching her forehead to his.
"Ronald?" She asked quietly, but she got no response. She repeated his name again, yet, once more, she got nothing. Hermione braced herself before yelling his name loudly in his ear.
"RONALD!"
He woke up with a jolt, wide eyes staring at her. After a moment, he settled back into the bed and stared at his wife.
"What?"
"The..." Oh dear; what if he thought she was weak? What if he told her it was nothing to worry about, and to just go back to sleep?
"Well?"
Hermione closed her eyes and said, "I'm afraid of the dark."
When there was a silence, she opened her eyes to see Ron looking sympathetically at her.
"Oh," Hermione's eyes widened. He wasn't making fun of her?
"You don't find it... funny?"
"Not at all, Hermione. I'm afraid of spiders; I can't make fun of you for being scared of the dark." Hermione let out a sigh of relief, draping an arm over his chest and resting her head on his shoulder.
"I... want to sleep close until we get used to this house, okay, Ron?" She said quietly, eyes closing. She felt him nod.
The blonde woman finished the story with a content sigh, flicking her wand to make the book slam shut. Seven children began to talk about that night's story.
They went silent when their normal storyteller entered the room, a tall man with bright, fiery hair resting an arm over her shoulders. She smiled at the blonde woman, and it was like the blonde knew what the brunette was thinking, because the blonde said, "Congratulation on number four."
She stood and left the room, and the seven kids began to bombard their storyteller with questions regarding why she had been gone.