A/N: Ok, so I totally overuse the word "laugh" here but there's only so
many words. I hope you all enjoy this, I wrote it during FCAT at school
today (how boring was that! Completely easy—I had forty frickin minutes to
check it over. Hope I didn't right as boring as I felt!). I am proud to say
that I have entered in depth a lot of their indivual issues so far. Oh, and
what do you think of Ron and Cho as a pair? Original for a reason? Should
they just be friends! I need to know. And jj alan, I am getting to the
tourist trap thing. Here we go!
Disclaimer: Cuando estoy una adulta, quiero ser escritora. Pero no tengo Harry Potter y sus amigos. Que mal, sabo…
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~*~*~
The sun had risen to its fullest in the early afternoon as Ron Weasly sat up and stretched in bed. Ginny was still asleep beside him, as were the rest. Ron figured that he might as well get ready for the day so he trudged into the bathroom. As he began to adjust the water temperature, the wastebasket under the sink caught his eye; it was overflowing with crumbled pieces of paper. He knelt down gingerly and picked up a piece that had fallen to the floor.
He held onto one for a moment, and then decidedly smoothed out the paper and read its garbled print. "To my family: It's Cho. Just Me." And that was all. But the strange thing was that it was all X-ed out. Ron began rummaging through the trash; every single paper was the same, only slightly variated. One said, "Hello, it's your daughter" and another "Dear Mum and Pop." But all twenty-six of the letters were balled up in the trash with humongous X's through all of the print. Ron was extremely curious and anxious to find out what this was all about, but Cho still slept and he didn't think it would be right to wake her.
So, instead, he took a refreshingly hot shower and dressed in clean Muggle clothes. It was now 12:30 in the afternoon, a half hour since he had woken, and still no sign of life was given by his five friends. Exasperated, he took the elevator down to the lobby where complimentary breakfast was being served. Ron helped himself to a delicious dish of scrambled eggs, hash browns, orange juice, and a great little heap of white stuff called "grits." Upon finishing, he began meandering down the hall when...
"...and then this kid looks up at me, the scrawniest 6th grader I've ever seen, and he says 'Oh, so that's how you do it? Why didn't you say that in the first place?' Doll, I swear if I had not laughed outright like that he would've received a smack across the ears."
Ron turned the corner to reveal the speaker, a man in slacks and a white collar shirt conversing with a short, slender lady with a mass of curly hair that Ron assumed to be the man's wife. "Kid's today," the woman chuckled, thumbing through a brochure. She caught sight of Ron, who had been oblivious to the fact that he was staring at the two. "Excuse us," she said politely, tucking the brochure into a saddlebag.
"Oooh... oh, sorry," Ron apologized under his breath. He turned pink and started to slowly sulk away; however, he stopped in his tracks suddenly in realization. Turning, he saw that the couple was still standing there chatting. "Ex... excuse me!" Ron called. The couple looked at him warily. "Are you by any chance a teacher?"
"Uh, yeah," the guy said, waiting for a punch line of some sort. But the tall teenage redhead just stared at him awkwardly, and then broke into a smile.
"Great!" Ron exclaimed, bounding down the hallway. He skipped the stairs at full throttle and, since he had forgotten his room rectangle-thing (he kept forgetting that blasted word!), Ron pounded on the door. "Lemme in! 'Arry! Lemme in!"
Harry did not answer the door, however. A medium-height Asian girl with an accusatory stare stood at the entrance, eyes boring into Ron's unexpecting skull. "Uh, hey, Cho..." he said nervously, becoming a bit frightened by the murderous glare she was shooting his way. It was then that he noticed what she clutched in her hands: wrinkled papers that, er, somebody had, um, gone through and, uh, read. Ron's thoughts began stammering in a most amusing fashion. "Cho! You're mad!" he called helplessly as she pushed past him and stormed down the hallway. He followed her, although Ron made sure to keep a safe distance from Cho. For all he knew, she could be going to get the murder weapon. She wouldn't answer his constant pleas for an explanation, but Ron wouldn't give up. "Come on, Cho. Chooo!" he wailed in disgust as she closed the elevator doors. He banged on them in frustration but it was futile. Through the clear glass door, he could see her slowly plummeting to the floors below. Her eyes, now sad, never left his face.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~*~*~
"Harry… Harry…" A sweet, soothing voice was flooating into Harry's ears and he opened his eyes. All was white, a clear, pure white. He wasn't in a room, but he wasn't outside. "Harry…" the voice said once more; it almost giggled. It sounded like a woman running, laughing, being happy. "Harry… Harry… Harry…" it echoed, and Harry felt so… good, peaceful.
"Hello-ello-ello?" Harry called, his voice echoing. "Is anybody there- there-there?" A giggle was his only reply. He lost his breath; she was standing before him, smiling and winking. He felt his throat go dry. She was looking at him; no, she was looking past him, looking past him and smiling.
"Harry?" she repeated. "I see you, sweetie."
"M-mum?" Harry stuttered incredulously. "Mum…"
She nodded, brown eyes twinkling. "Come now, Harry," she laughed, beckoning toward him slowly and gracefully.
He swallowed hard, and took a tentative step toward Lily Potter, his mother. But a tentative step was all he reached; a gust of hair brushed his side and a little boy that looked all too familiar rushed by, and into Lily's arms. "There's my boy," she smiled, tickling his nose.
The boy stared at Harry. The boy from the mall, from the kitchen was now there, with her mother. "It can't be," Harry whispered, staring at the ground in confusion, but no one seemed to hear. "She died before I was that old."
"Of course she did," rasped a harsh voice. Harry looked up quickly and found that the boy had turned bitter once more, the hate and anger surging forth from his eyes. Harry looked frantically past him, but his mother no longer grazed his presence.
"I… I…"
"Of course she did," the boy repeated louder. "But you still believed."
"I… I believe," Harry gulped. "My mother, I believe—"
"No," the boy said fiercely, eyes glowing. "You gave up. Now she's just a memory."
"But… my father…"
"Oh, you still have him, don't you?" the boy snarled, almost sarcastically. "Our mother doesn't live on anymore, Harry. Because of you, she's gone."
"No!" Harry insisted, stepping toward the smaller boy. "No, no!" The boy just cackled maliciously. "You're not me! I was never like you! You're… you're… horrible!" He wanted to strangle the boy, strangle him for laughing vindictively and strangle him for hugging the mother that he no longer could. Anything to make that horrible snickering stop. Anything…
Harry gasped as he bolted upright on the sticky cot. "Sticky?" he grumbled. He was in a cold sweat, white sleeping tank clinging to his body. "My god…" he grumbled, remembering his dream and that horrible, horrible boy. "Jesus, that was—"
"Huh?" Harry rolled over to see Hermione… upside down? "You said something, Harry?" She unmounted from the handstand (Harry was glad she was in one and he wasn't just seeing things wrong-side up!) and looked to him.
"Oh, just… nothing," he murmured, shaking his head. His dark shaggy bangs were pasted to his forehead with sweat. "I'm going to shower." He shlepped into the bathroom, grumbling about small children. Hermione just blinked and laughed.
"What's so funny?"
Draco was sitting on the edge of the bed formerly occupied by Hermione and Cho, sprawled out on his back. Hermione's hand flew to her heart. "Geeze, Malfoy, you scared the dung out of me!"
"Not my intention," Draco apologized, although he seemed detached. "How'd you sleep, Hermione?" She stiffened, remembering the events of the early hours of the morning. "Aren't you forgetting something?" he smirked.
"Uh, no," she lied blatantly, trying to act busy by fluffing already fluffy pillows.
"Are you sure?"
"No!"
"Well, then, don't I feel special," he replied, putting on a fake pout that he had to grin through. "You forgot my birthday."
"Oh!" she said, feeling stupid. Then, realizing his intention was to make her think of… other events… she frowned. "Draco, you prat!" She hit him with the pillow she had been fluffing. "You stupid—" With each word, she hit him with it. "—idiotic, manipulative, deceiving PRAT!"
"You hurt me, you really do," he laughed, trying to fend off her attacks. "As much as I enjoy this pillow fight, and I do," he teased, standing up. "I'd like to talk about what you think I was talking about."
"What do you mean, what I think you were talking about?"
"Y'know, what you thought I was thinking about."
"Wait, wait. Thinking about what I was thinking that you were thinking that you were talking about?"
"Oh, shutup, Hermione!" he sighed, maneuvering around the bed to escape her. "You know what I was thinking about, and that's what I want to talk about."
"Okay, so you're thinking about talking about what you think I was thinking that you were thinking when you were—aagh!" she shrieked, laughing hysterically, as Draco smothered her words with the pillow he had snatched from her grasp.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~*~*~
A/N: Woooo, hello! I gotta go take a shower so I'll quickly write these up!
Gainax—Yeah, I love Smallville… on soon! Well, thanks so much! I appreciate!
Ally-sama—Yes, yes… ty!
Sucker For Romance—Just getting good? Should I be insulted? I'll take what I can get, and thanks bunches!
Mione G—LOL, me too! They were serving those egg nog lattes over the holidays and I was addicted… like I was always on one… thanku
Flame and shadow?—Thanks, to my favorite crazy people (are u really sisters or just one weird schizo?)
Mwarren—Thanks buddyo! I'll check urs!
Kristina—lol, yes, yes…ty
Jj alan—o, I love the idea. He thought he was playing w/ her but I think it's changing… But Hermione's gonna find out soon, you'll see
Natasha—Aw, thanks!
Slavy—I'm sorry… moving on is hard… I am going on to a new school next year, and god knows where… I'm glad u enjoy…
Sassy—Um, well… I don't think he meant Pleasantville like an actual place. Y'know, like he might say Goodville or Perfectville or Happyville, just I thought that would be more humorous. And as for the Vette… I don't see why it's so improbable. He was raised a Muggle, he knows about cars, and he obviously needed one for a Muggle road trip. Why not a Vette? I'm sorry that you feel that way, but thank you for reviewing.
Marina—No, I'm not Hispanic… I just really love Spanish. I like writing and talking in other languages, it's a passion. ¿hablas en espanol? Muy guay! Pues, tengo que ir ahora… adios y gracias…
Lydia—great taste in guys! (drools over Josh!) Well, I appreciate that u love… thanks!
Melly—short and sweet, a lovely review. Thanks!!!
Y estoy yendo… adios y hasta luego…
Disclaimer: Cuando estoy una adulta, quiero ser escritora. Pero no tengo Harry Potter y sus amigos. Que mal, sabo…
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~*~*~
The sun had risen to its fullest in the early afternoon as Ron Weasly sat up and stretched in bed. Ginny was still asleep beside him, as were the rest. Ron figured that he might as well get ready for the day so he trudged into the bathroom. As he began to adjust the water temperature, the wastebasket under the sink caught his eye; it was overflowing with crumbled pieces of paper. He knelt down gingerly and picked up a piece that had fallen to the floor.
He held onto one for a moment, and then decidedly smoothed out the paper and read its garbled print. "To my family: It's Cho. Just Me." And that was all. But the strange thing was that it was all X-ed out. Ron began rummaging through the trash; every single paper was the same, only slightly variated. One said, "Hello, it's your daughter" and another "Dear Mum and Pop." But all twenty-six of the letters were balled up in the trash with humongous X's through all of the print. Ron was extremely curious and anxious to find out what this was all about, but Cho still slept and he didn't think it would be right to wake her.
So, instead, he took a refreshingly hot shower and dressed in clean Muggle clothes. It was now 12:30 in the afternoon, a half hour since he had woken, and still no sign of life was given by his five friends. Exasperated, he took the elevator down to the lobby where complimentary breakfast was being served. Ron helped himself to a delicious dish of scrambled eggs, hash browns, orange juice, and a great little heap of white stuff called "grits." Upon finishing, he began meandering down the hall when...
"...and then this kid looks up at me, the scrawniest 6th grader I've ever seen, and he says 'Oh, so that's how you do it? Why didn't you say that in the first place?' Doll, I swear if I had not laughed outright like that he would've received a smack across the ears."
Ron turned the corner to reveal the speaker, a man in slacks and a white collar shirt conversing with a short, slender lady with a mass of curly hair that Ron assumed to be the man's wife. "Kid's today," the woman chuckled, thumbing through a brochure. She caught sight of Ron, who had been oblivious to the fact that he was staring at the two. "Excuse us," she said politely, tucking the brochure into a saddlebag.
"Oooh... oh, sorry," Ron apologized under his breath. He turned pink and started to slowly sulk away; however, he stopped in his tracks suddenly in realization. Turning, he saw that the couple was still standing there chatting. "Ex... excuse me!" Ron called. The couple looked at him warily. "Are you by any chance a teacher?"
"Uh, yeah," the guy said, waiting for a punch line of some sort. But the tall teenage redhead just stared at him awkwardly, and then broke into a smile.
"Great!" Ron exclaimed, bounding down the hallway. He skipped the stairs at full throttle and, since he had forgotten his room rectangle-thing (he kept forgetting that blasted word!), Ron pounded on the door. "Lemme in! 'Arry! Lemme in!"
Harry did not answer the door, however. A medium-height Asian girl with an accusatory stare stood at the entrance, eyes boring into Ron's unexpecting skull. "Uh, hey, Cho..." he said nervously, becoming a bit frightened by the murderous glare she was shooting his way. It was then that he noticed what she clutched in her hands: wrinkled papers that, er, somebody had, um, gone through and, uh, read. Ron's thoughts began stammering in a most amusing fashion. "Cho! You're mad!" he called helplessly as she pushed past him and stormed down the hallway. He followed her, although Ron made sure to keep a safe distance from Cho. For all he knew, she could be going to get the murder weapon. She wouldn't answer his constant pleas for an explanation, but Ron wouldn't give up. "Come on, Cho. Chooo!" he wailed in disgust as she closed the elevator doors. He banged on them in frustration but it was futile. Through the clear glass door, he could see her slowly plummeting to the floors below. Her eyes, now sad, never left his face.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~*~*~
"Harry… Harry…" A sweet, soothing voice was flooating into Harry's ears and he opened his eyes. All was white, a clear, pure white. He wasn't in a room, but he wasn't outside. "Harry…" the voice said once more; it almost giggled. It sounded like a woman running, laughing, being happy. "Harry… Harry… Harry…" it echoed, and Harry felt so… good, peaceful.
"Hello-ello-ello?" Harry called, his voice echoing. "Is anybody there- there-there?" A giggle was his only reply. He lost his breath; she was standing before him, smiling and winking. He felt his throat go dry. She was looking at him; no, she was looking past him, looking past him and smiling.
"Harry?" she repeated. "I see you, sweetie."
"M-mum?" Harry stuttered incredulously. "Mum…"
She nodded, brown eyes twinkling. "Come now, Harry," she laughed, beckoning toward him slowly and gracefully.
He swallowed hard, and took a tentative step toward Lily Potter, his mother. But a tentative step was all he reached; a gust of hair brushed his side and a little boy that looked all too familiar rushed by, and into Lily's arms. "There's my boy," she smiled, tickling his nose.
The boy stared at Harry. The boy from the mall, from the kitchen was now there, with her mother. "It can't be," Harry whispered, staring at the ground in confusion, but no one seemed to hear. "She died before I was that old."
"Of course she did," rasped a harsh voice. Harry looked up quickly and found that the boy had turned bitter once more, the hate and anger surging forth from his eyes. Harry looked frantically past him, but his mother no longer grazed his presence.
"I… I…"
"Of course she did," the boy repeated louder. "But you still believed."
"I… I believe," Harry gulped. "My mother, I believe—"
"No," the boy said fiercely, eyes glowing. "You gave up. Now she's just a memory."
"But… my father…"
"Oh, you still have him, don't you?" the boy snarled, almost sarcastically. "Our mother doesn't live on anymore, Harry. Because of you, she's gone."
"No!" Harry insisted, stepping toward the smaller boy. "No, no!" The boy just cackled maliciously. "You're not me! I was never like you! You're… you're… horrible!" He wanted to strangle the boy, strangle him for laughing vindictively and strangle him for hugging the mother that he no longer could. Anything to make that horrible snickering stop. Anything…
Harry gasped as he bolted upright on the sticky cot. "Sticky?" he grumbled. He was in a cold sweat, white sleeping tank clinging to his body. "My god…" he grumbled, remembering his dream and that horrible, horrible boy. "Jesus, that was—"
"Huh?" Harry rolled over to see Hermione… upside down? "You said something, Harry?" She unmounted from the handstand (Harry was glad she was in one and he wasn't just seeing things wrong-side up!) and looked to him.
"Oh, just… nothing," he murmured, shaking his head. His dark shaggy bangs were pasted to his forehead with sweat. "I'm going to shower." He shlepped into the bathroom, grumbling about small children. Hermione just blinked and laughed.
"What's so funny?"
Draco was sitting on the edge of the bed formerly occupied by Hermione and Cho, sprawled out on his back. Hermione's hand flew to her heart. "Geeze, Malfoy, you scared the dung out of me!"
"Not my intention," Draco apologized, although he seemed detached. "How'd you sleep, Hermione?" She stiffened, remembering the events of the early hours of the morning. "Aren't you forgetting something?" he smirked.
"Uh, no," she lied blatantly, trying to act busy by fluffing already fluffy pillows.
"Are you sure?"
"No!"
"Well, then, don't I feel special," he replied, putting on a fake pout that he had to grin through. "You forgot my birthday."
"Oh!" she said, feeling stupid. Then, realizing his intention was to make her think of… other events… she frowned. "Draco, you prat!" She hit him with the pillow she had been fluffing. "You stupid—" With each word, she hit him with it. "—idiotic, manipulative, deceiving PRAT!"
"You hurt me, you really do," he laughed, trying to fend off her attacks. "As much as I enjoy this pillow fight, and I do," he teased, standing up. "I'd like to talk about what you think I was talking about."
"What do you mean, what I think you were talking about?"
"Y'know, what you thought I was thinking about."
"Wait, wait. Thinking about what I was thinking that you were thinking that you were talking about?"
"Oh, shutup, Hermione!" he sighed, maneuvering around the bed to escape her. "You know what I was thinking about, and that's what I want to talk about."
"Okay, so you're thinking about talking about what you think I was thinking that you were thinking when you were—aagh!" she shrieked, laughing hysterically, as Draco smothered her words with the pillow he had snatched from her grasp.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~*~*~
A/N: Woooo, hello! I gotta go take a shower so I'll quickly write these up!
Gainax—Yeah, I love Smallville… on soon! Well, thanks so much! I appreciate!
Ally-sama—Yes, yes… ty!
Sucker For Romance—Just getting good? Should I be insulted? I'll take what I can get, and thanks bunches!
Mione G—LOL, me too! They were serving those egg nog lattes over the holidays and I was addicted… like I was always on one… thanku
Flame and shadow?—Thanks, to my favorite crazy people (are u really sisters or just one weird schizo?)
Mwarren—Thanks buddyo! I'll check urs!
Kristina—lol, yes, yes…ty
Jj alan—o, I love the idea. He thought he was playing w/ her but I think it's changing… But Hermione's gonna find out soon, you'll see
Natasha—Aw, thanks!
Slavy—I'm sorry… moving on is hard… I am going on to a new school next year, and god knows where… I'm glad u enjoy…
Sassy—Um, well… I don't think he meant Pleasantville like an actual place. Y'know, like he might say Goodville or Perfectville or Happyville, just I thought that would be more humorous. And as for the Vette… I don't see why it's so improbable. He was raised a Muggle, he knows about cars, and he obviously needed one for a Muggle road trip. Why not a Vette? I'm sorry that you feel that way, but thank you for reviewing.
Marina—No, I'm not Hispanic… I just really love Spanish. I like writing and talking in other languages, it's a passion. ¿hablas en espanol? Muy guay! Pues, tengo que ir ahora… adios y gracias…
Lydia—great taste in guys! (drools over Josh!) Well, I appreciate that u love… thanks!
Melly—short and sweet, a lovely review. Thanks!!!
Y estoy yendo… adios y hasta luego…