Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor Of Mice and Men.
A/N: Dude, I now have a fricking lot of stories, yo! If only I could finish them! Ah well.
Anyways, about this one. The last few weeks of school we read Of Mice and Men in English. As soon as Steinbeck described Slim's voice (something along the lines of 'dark and smokey'), I was like "Holy cow, it's Snape!" Well, after that, it was only a matter of time before something like this popped into my head.
…You know, you can make HP fit into just about any other verse, if you think hard enough…Or at least I can. There's Romeo and Juliet, King Arthur, Mulan (Yes, that's right, as in the Disney movie!), and lot's of other crap. As you can see, I think about Harry Potter way too often.
Yay! This lame site finally allowed me to upload! Well...I probably could have done it yesterday, but we got back from the mountains, and my sister jumped on the computer like a man just outta jail on a whore. Yeah. I made that up. Pretty nice simile, no? I like it.
Caution: Thar be…well, I suppose I could call it a bastardization of poor John Steinbeck's novel. Also, it seems I was trying to go for a bit o' angst or drama or some other stupid thing. And we all know that I should stick to comedy.
OMG THIS CRAP IS LONGER THAN THE BLOODY DRABBLE
Trembling on legs that weren't quite as steady as they should have been, Harry sank to the ground and, in disgust, threw his wand into the little pond.
I killed him, he thought, the first friend I ever had, and I killed him.
There was silence from the trees surrounding him. At the green flash, everything had gone still.
Suddenly, the forest came to life. Birds—and things which may have once resembled birds—either burst out of the leaves and into the sky or began chirping and squawking and making other equally irritating noises. The wizards who had been stealthily tracking the half-giant, then frozen from the light they'd seen through the trees, jerked back to themselves and rushed forwards.
What did they see?
Trees parted and opened up into a little oasis in the middle of the forest. A pond, the clear summer sky and cheery sun reflecting in its waters, disturbed only occasionally by a croaking frog or the flash of scales as a fish flirted near the surface. A great oak tree, slumped lazily at the edge of the pond, its branches reaching for a sip of the sweet water.
And two men.
One old, one young.
One huge, one small.
One peaceful, one distressed.
One dead, one alive.
The men stopped at the edge of the trees. Stared uncertainly at their leader.
All except one. Tall and draped in black, Snape's customary sneer softened as he looked at Harry. He knew what it was to kill one that you loved, and pitied the man for the pain and nightmares he would face.
He stepped forward, towards Harry. Kneeled next to him. Tentatively touched his shoulder, the best kind of comfort he had to offer.
The leader's face broke into a grin as he stared at the felled half-giant. "Well, hot damn!" he shouted.
The other men started and looked at each other in relief.
"Kilt that bastard good and well!" Draco continued. "Go on, boys! Get that useless son-of-a-bitch outta here, willya? That'll teach 'im to kill my wife! Goddamn Ginny weren't worth the clothes she wore, but she was mine, and ain't nobody touches my property!"
The men, having heard this speech—or ones like it—multiple times while hunting Hagrid, paid him no mind and went about the business of hauling the corpse back to the ranch.
One man Wingardium leviosa'd Hagrid while the others tried to clear a path through the trees.
Draco, smirking something awful, came over to where Snape silently offered Harry comfort and clapped the man on the back, nearly pushing him into the pond. "Good job, Potter! Had my doubts 'bout you, but now I know yer trustworthy! Kilt that old bastar' bear like nuthin' I ever seen!"
Turning around and snarling at the startled Draco, Harry would have cursed the man if not for the fact that his wand was currently six inches deep in pond-water.
Draco scowled and regained his composure, tugging straight his robes and then stalking away. "Fine, Potter, if that's the way you want it! I never liked you, anyhow. You're fired. Git yer stuff and git off my daddy's ranch!"
Silently, when Draco had disappeared, Snape leaned forward and withdrew the wand with hardly a ripple from the pond.
He handed it to Harry and then, unfolding his legs, stood gracefully before offering Harry a hand and then hauling him up.
The two men looked at each other for a moment.
Two wizards with black hair and tanned, work-roughened skin. Bother were skinnier and had eyes more tired than they had any right to be.
They were workers, they were wizards, they were, for a few brief moments, friends.
Then, with a small, sardonic smile, as if to say "Ah, but we knew it couldn't last," Snape turned and moved through the trees, back to the ranch. Back to long days and cold nights and loneliness; back to the life of a ranch-hand.
Harry watched him go.
End A/N: Bah…That turned out quite angstier than I meant it to be. Lord. I'm not sure if it's meant to be slashy or not. More like…slash that could have been, ya know? Gah…I hate writing angst. It always ends up sounding so cheesy and stupid to me…Same with romance.
But, overall, I quite like this drabble. Even though it's ridiculous.
I don't know why Lucius Malfoy would be running a ranch, nor why a bunch of wizards would work there, but, it seems in this fic that happens.
Draco's accent amuses me. And the fact that he's the only one to speak. I think that's cool.