This is my first real bit of fanfiction, well, the first bit I've ever
thought about putting online at least! Aside from that, it's the longest
bit of fiction in general I've ever written, usually too lazy to get it
done... It's probably going to end up as a bit of everything, fluff,
angst, anything that I'm in the mood to write I suppose! I didn't really
write it to be read by anyone so it's a bit rubbish, but enjoy it anyway :)
Yes, this is eventually slash - might take a while to get there, looks like some sort of plot has pushed its way in.. weird, I know! Don't like slash? Then don't read this, you probably wont like me either! Think it's worth continuing? Or should I just crawl back into my hole?
Suppose I 'ave to put in the usual disclaimers so I don't get sued, not that I've got anything worth taking! No infringement on the Harry Potter brand is intended, all rights are owned by the respective parties, I own nothing, aside from my original content and ideas, and am making no profit from this etc etc.
Harry Potter and The Wizards Wheeze. Chapter one: The swallows nest.
The weather was miserable, pathetic gray clouds skittering menacingly above the horizon, almost as if they, too, were running from the coming storm. A ridge of trees stood behind the crooked house, outlined against the overcast skies, their boughs extended, protectively embracing the back wall of the building. Behind them was the motorway, and behind that lay Dunshill, a bleak suburban expanse which seemed to cling to the countryside, an urban blot on a blank page.
"I think I miss the Burrow already mate" Murmured the red head, absentmindedly swatting a fly from his freckled nose, "It was just... well, home I suppose, and this just isn't". Harry knew Ron was right, even though he didn't want to admit it, the new house - The Nest they called it, a cheerless gesture that seemed to make Ron gloomier -it felt different, it never had that delicate, yet reassuring, warmth which always seemed to permeate every corner of the Burrow. He noticed the smell more than anything, or more the lack of it, that smell which had been so strong, so powerful, of freshly cooked meals and new cut grass, of love, a smell, so uniquely Ron, that Harry could hardly help but to adore it. He quickly stopped those thoughts.
"I miss the Quidditch, if only we could, somehow... " He let his voice drift away, Harry knew they wouldn't ever manage to play, until the start of term at least. Not after Ron had realized, with Harry's help of course, that broomsticks flying above the motorway weren't exactly a normal sight for passing muggles.
"I wonder how the twins are getting on" Harry questioned, trying to give Ron something else to think about - besides the war, his home and the future - but he knew he'd said the wrong thing, family was the last thing Ron should have to worry about, Harry really felt like an idiot sometimes.
He could see the change in Ron, which he thought was a bit of a strange thing to notice - He hadn't been staring at Ron that much, had he? Ron's shoulders slumped further - Harry wondered how much lower they could fall - his fingers started playing across each other, fidgeting over his chest, and his eyes seemed to die. Harry couldn't explain it any better than that, their life just seemed to have been whisked away. "I've been thinking about that too, maybe we should try to.. send them an owl, or something" Ron murmured, a soft and gloomy whisper.
"Yeah, I suppose we could do that tonight, after your parents are asleep" Ron's parents would have certainly disapproved of contacting the twins while they were busy with their "business".
Harry was worried about the twins leaving, the silence which had descended on the family, that was bad enough, it was what they were trying to do which worried him the most. They were supposed to be on a business trip, setting up a new European wing of their joke shop in Paris, but Harry and Ron knew more about the twins trip than most people, the order had something to do with it, Harry was sure. He knew what "Order Business" meant, and he knew, far too keenly what the consequences were of that particular occupation... He quickly stopped thinking about that.
A part of him even felt angry at the two of them, at Dumbledoor, he was 16, he was the boy who lived, he deserved to help fight the death eaters, surely they needed his help. There had to be something he could do, he wanted too, he needed to do something, anything, to help them, to help himself, to help Ron. It made him feel worthless, worse than that, it made him feel ungrateful, to everyone, to Ron, they had, and still were, caring for him, but no one ever gave him the chance to repay their gratitude! To Harry, it still felt as if Ron's family were giving him everything yet he was returning none of it.
Ron looked shattered. His eyes were a dull brown, their spark gone, reflecting the tired body sprawled out beneath the dreary gray sky. The pair of them were lying on a small rise which grew steadily up behind Rons' new home, their backs propped against the cracked bark of an ancient Yew tree which towered above the house, dominating the garden and throwing a tall shadow across the roughly seeded lawn.
"Hey" He nudged Ron in the ribs as he spoke, trying break the silence before it could settle. "Hmph, gerrof me 'arry", he moaned in protest, keeping his eyes fixed firmly skywards. Harry shook his head, "Ron, if you are going to be like this tomorrow morning we aren't going to get anywhere!". "Hmph?" Ron grunted back, questioningly. "You know? London? Diagon Alley? The shop? All of that stuff your mums been nagging us about today?". "I know what we're doing!" He snapped back defiantly "Just... What's so special about it?". "I don't know, I just, well Hogwarts is brilliant, and your house is amazing, too, but Diagon Alley, there's just so much there! So much magic, stuff I've never seen before...". "'Mione would probably give you a lecture on it if you wanted mate, it's nothing special really..." Ron's voice drifted off, Harry knew there was something on his mind, he watched as his friends eyes gazed at the sky, watching a swallow which flew gracefully into the eaves of the thatch roof. They were beautiful eyes, even after all of this there was still something more than magical inside them, something Harry could never find in Diagon Alley... He turned his face away and stopped thinking about that, Cho had beautiful eyes too, so did Ginny, it wasn't really unusual...
Harry turned back, intent on saying anything to break the awkward silence, but, before he could think of the words to say, a voice called out to them from the house, "RON ! HARRY ! Come inside!".
Yes, this is eventually slash - might take a while to get there, looks like some sort of plot has pushed its way in.. weird, I know! Don't like slash? Then don't read this, you probably wont like me either! Think it's worth continuing? Or should I just crawl back into my hole?
Suppose I 'ave to put in the usual disclaimers so I don't get sued, not that I've got anything worth taking! No infringement on the Harry Potter brand is intended, all rights are owned by the respective parties, I own nothing, aside from my original content and ideas, and am making no profit from this etc etc.
Harry Potter and The Wizards Wheeze. Chapter one: The swallows nest.
The weather was miserable, pathetic gray clouds skittering menacingly above the horizon, almost as if they, too, were running from the coming storm. A ridge of trees stood behind the crooked house, outlined against the overcast skies, their boughs extended, protectively embracing the back wall of the building. Behind them was the motorway, and behind that lay Dunshill, a bleak suburban expanse which seemed to cling to the countryside, an urban blot on a blank page.
"I think I miss the Burrow already mate" Murmured the red head, absentmindedly swatting a fly from his freckled nose, "It was just... well, home I suppose, and this just isn't". Harry knew Ron was right, even though he didn't want to admit it, the new house - The Nest they called it, a cheerless gesture that seemed to make Ron gloomier -it felt different, it never had that delicate, yet reassuring, warmth which always seemed to permeate every corner of the Burrow. He noticed the smell more than anything, or more the lack of it, that smell which had been so strong, so powerful, of freshly cooked meals and new cut grass, of love, a smell, so uniquely Ron, that Harry could hardly help but to adore it. He quickly stopped those thoughts.
"I miss the Quidditch, if only we could, somehow... " He let his voice drift away, Harry knew they wouldn't ever manage to play, until the start of term at least. Not after Ron had realized, with Harry's help of course, that broomsticks flying above the motorway weren't exactly a normal sight for passing muggles.
"I wonder how the twins are getting on" Harry questioned, trying to give Ron something else to think about - besides the war, his home and the future - but he knew he'd said the wrong thing, family was the last thing Ron should have to worry about, Harry really felt like an idiot sometimes.
He could see the change in Ron, which he thought was a bit of a strange thing to notice - He hadn't been staring at Ron that much, had he? Ron's shoulders slumped further - Harry wondered how much lower they could fall - his fingers started playing across each other, fidgeting over his chest, and his eyes seemed to die. Harry couldn't explain it any better than that, their life just seemed to have been whisked away. "I've been thinking about that too, maybe we should try to.. send them an owl, or something" Ron murmured, a soft and gloomy whisper.
"Yeah, I suppose we could do that tonight, after your parents are asleep" Ron's parents would have certainly disapproved of contacting the twins while they were busy with their "business".
Harry was worried about the twins leaving, the silence which had descended on the family, that was bad enough, it was what they were trying to do which worried him the most. They were supposed to be on a business trip, setting up a new European wing of their joke shop in Paris, but Harry and Ron knew more about the twins trip than most people, the order had something to do with it, Harry was sure. He knew what "Order Business" meant, and he knew, far too keenly what the consequences were of that particular occupation... He quickly stopped thinking about that.
A part of him even felt angry at the two of them, at Dumbledoor, he was 16, he was the boy who lived, he deserved to help fight the death eaters, surely they needed his help. There had to be something he could do, he wanted too, he needed to do something, anything, to help them, to help himself, to help Ron. It made him feel worthless, worse than that, it made him feel ungrateful, to everyone, to Ron, they had, and still were, caring for him, but no one ever gave him the chance to repay their gratitude! To Harry, it still felt as if Ron's family were giving him everything yet he was returning none of it.
Ron looked shattered. His eyes were a dull brown, their spark gone, reflecting the tired body sprawled out beneath the dreary gray sky. The pair of them were lying on a small rise which grew steadily up behind Rons' new home, their backs propped against the cracked bark of an ancient Yew tree which towered above the house, dominating the garden and throwing a tall shadow across the roughly seeded lawn.
"Hey" He nudged Ron in the ribs as he spoke, trying break the silence before it could settle. "Hmph, gerrof me 'arry", he moaned in protest, keeping his eyes fixed firmly skywards. Harry shook his head, "Ron, if you are going to be like this tomorrow morning we aren't going to get anywhere!". "Hmph?" Ron grunted back, questioningly. "You know? London? Diagon Alley? The shop? All of that stuff your mums been nagging us about today?". "I know what we're doing!" He snapped back defiantly "Just... What's so special about it?". "I don't know, I just, well Hogwarts is brilliant, and your house is amazing, too, but Diagon Alley, there's just so much there! So much magic, stuff I've never seen before...". "'Mione would probably give you a lecture on it if you wanted mate, it's nothing special really..." Ron's voice drifted off, Harry knew there was something on his mind, he watched as his friends eyes gazed at the sky, watching a swallow which flew gracefully into the eaves of the thatch roof. They were beautiful eyes, even after all of this there was still something more than magical inside them, something Harry could never find in Diagon Alley... He turned his face away and stopped thinking about that, Cho had beautiful eyes too, so did Ginny, it wasn't really unusual...
Harry turned back, intent on saying anything to break the awkward silence, but, before he could think of the words to say, a voice called out to them from the house, "RON ! HARRY ! Come inside!".