TITLE: Unsettling
AUTHOR: Bastet, DevilChild
EMAIL: gwyliane@yahoo.com
SUMMARY: Those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it.
RATING: PG-13, I guess.
WARNINGS: Contains m/m and f/f slash. If that's not your cup of tea, then leave right now. This is not your average Harry Potter fluff fic. Don't complain if you find it....unsettling.
DISTRIBUTION: Ask, please.
NOTES: I slashed Lily! I slashed Lily! Though I'm sure someone's thought of this particular pairing before. This is for Allie (who *finally* read the books) because she keeps telling me that the girls are worth slashing too. Also for anyone else who thinks that the Weasleys are *straight,* damn it! (Except Percy, and, well, DUH.)
There's a surfeit of redheads in the Gryffindor dorms this year, but Lily doesn't mind. Pale, gingery hair falls down her back, straight as an arrow //beatnik// and still letting off puffs of steam from the drying charm she did on it a few minutes ago. The rest of her is still damp, dripping, as she stands in front of the mirror, and she's pretty.
Or so she must be, because James Potter is taking her to the Ball tonight - Quidditch-playing, popular James who blushed and stammered when he asked her, while his friends snickered behind his back. She's indifferent; but at least there will be someone to stand under the stars with her and kiss her, and maybe she could touch his hair because it's thick and black and she's thought about it before, just to get it in some kind of order.
There's a knock on the bathroom door, and Molly Fitzgerald, round and sweet, comes in, letting a little of the heat out of the room and causing more condensation to form on the mirror. She sighs as she meets Lily's vacant eyes, grabs a towel from the hook and passes it to her friend. "Sure you want to go?"
Lily dries herself off and wonders when Molly's voice got so sharp. Immediately she sees tall, gangly //also red-haired// Arthur Weasley, who makes Molly angry. She likes to be angry, and she likes Arthur, though Lily doesn't understand why. Lily, who could never make her angry even when she wanted to. "I like James," she says, and it sounds like a protest, like the older girl's words were more wounding. She wants to fight, tonight, because of the red heat-pain-rage that's boiling up inside her.
"I know," says Molly, who thinks she does. "Get dressed and I'll do your hair." She's preoccupied, because Arthur didn't ask her to the ball //bastard// and she's never really sure what he's thinking. Lily slips into her dress robes and follows Molly into their dorm, because there are so few girls in Gryffindor currently that they have to share. Not that she minds, because Molly snores and the sound is comforting.
She lowers herself gracefully to the floor, settles in a heap below Molly on the bed, who begins running her fingers through the silky filaments, braiding and twisting with the same skill she always has. She wants all daughters, daughters with long red hair, and as she says this Lily sinks into a daze, because she's heard it before, the first time Molly touched her like this.
Third year, and she was crying. Huddled in a heap on her bed, because Sirius Black tripped her in the hall and laughed, and suddenly there were gentle hands on her back, on her head, soothing softly without any other intent. "It's okay, love, those boys don't mean a word of it. They only tease you because they like you."
That was probably true, Lily realized later, and Molly hardly ever teases her. They're friends without saying much, and it's awfully quiet in the girls' dorm until they fall asleep. Then there's snoring from one side of the room and sighing from the other side //always//.
Her hair's up now, shining and smooth, and her eyes are snapping brightly to match the green of her dress. The brightness could be caused by tears, but there's no way to tell because she's fluttering her eyelashes as she walks down the stairs to take James' arm.
There's still a surplus of redheads in Gryffindor tower, and most of them are Weasleys. Harry's hair is dark and shaggy, though, and his body is lean and muscled from Quidditch. He likes the way he looks; even the scar on his forehead wouldn't be so bad if it weren't for the constant reminders it gives him //Cedric is dead, your parents are dead, why aren't you?//. And, of course, he has his mother's eyes.
The girls at school agree, anyway, because they giggle when he walks by - some of that could just be hero-worship. He's taking Ginny to the ball, though, because at least he knows her and likes her well enough. Ron asked Hermione, both their faces pink and shy, and the twins applauded when she said yes, as everyone knew she would.
He raised an eyebrow at Ginny afterward, as the misery sunk in, and she nodded without getting noticeably flustered. She's come a long way, Ginny, and Harry likes her because she knows he doesn't love her and she doesn't mind, at least for now. It's nice to find brown eyes resting softly on him for once, to bury his face in the red hair as they dance.
Ron yells for him to hurry up, and his voice quivers with nerves. No time for joking, teasing, because for once *Harry* is the one getting left out of the equation and Hermione is in the spotlight. She'll make sure it never stays that way, though, because she's never been as thoughtless as Ron. //Not many people are.//
He's dressed and ready to go in three seconds flat, and Ron nearly bowls him over on his way to the mirror. Harry watches the two Rons unobtrusively from the door, and he could offer to help get his robe on straight or tell him that he looks fine, but he doesn't particularly care to. Tall, gangly, beautiful Ron who has no idea that the curve of his neck looks enticing or that watching his hands tremble //for Hermione// make Harry's do the same.
He meets Ginny downstairs, his appearance careless, because he knows and she knows that he'd rather be with someone else. "I don't really feel like dancing tonight," she says, so they go walking on the grounds instead. He leans forward, backing her into a wall, and she doesn't protest. Sweet-tart, like green apples; he's devouring her with his lips and tongue and teeth. And Ginny doesn't mind because she's pretending it's him, Harry, who doesn't exist tonight because he's been taken over by this *thing* that doesn't care if he hurts Ron's sister, or anyone else for that matter.
But she stops him before it goes too far; she's a Weasley and she knows better //don't they all//. Detaches him gently, through her daze, and takes his hand. Sitting on a bench beneath the trees, he restlessly plays with her fingers. They can hear the music of the dance - singing and laughter - from where they are, and Ginny sways slightly to the enticing sound of other people who have other people.
He'll marry her, he thinks, watching the moonlight that seems so sharp and angry tonight playing off of her wine-colored curls. Marry her and be a brother to Ron //and Hermione//; have lots of red-headed children and tell them exciting stories. Not exactly what he'd had in mind, once //stupid// but he had learned to settle for what he could get. //Unsettle, really,// and he held Ginny a little closer.
A/N: Don't get mad if you like the Arthur/Molly and Ron/Hermione relationships - so do I. The story just happens to be from the point of views of people who don't. And, okay, Harry/Ginny annoys me but I like Ginny well enough. It just seems to be her part to always get the short end of the stick. Also if you like James/Lily and want to say, "Hey, you destroyed canon!" well, tough. People slash James all the time. 'Sides, I never said she didn't grow to love James later...