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Oct. 10th, 2008 11:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
why_me_why_notSo, I've been toying around with the idea of writing Eighth Year HP 'verse (post-DH but epilogue disregarded). I have parts of it outlined in my head, and I really like how it seems to be coming together. Anyway, I also have a list of prompt words given to me by some of my favorite girls, and I intended to use them for drabbles, but this one got out of hand. Tell me what you think?
Title: A Chance to Be Not-Enemies
Fandom/Pairing: Harry Potter, Harry/Draco(ish)
Rating/Word Count: Everyone, 1000 words
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, or any other part of JKR's wizarding world. No harm intended.
Summary: Now the Eighth Years were planning a long weekend in Romania, to visit Charlie Weasley and to learn something about dragons as extra credit for Care of Magical Creatures. Malfoy had apparently declined the opportunity.
A/N: Written as a result of![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
wook77's prompt words: laugh, cry, blue. The truth-or-dare game referred to within can be found here.
When Harry first mentioned wanting Malfoy along for the weekend, Ron had laughed, thinking it was a joke, but Harry was serious. Ever since the night of the truth-or-dare game – the night of the kiss – Malfoy had been avoiding everyone but Parkinson. Now the Eighth Years were planning a long weekend in Romania, to visit Charlie Weasley and to learn something about dragons as extra credit for Care of Magical Creatures. Malfoy had apparently declined the opportunity.
Harry went looking for the Slytherin study group after dinner, hoping Parkinson was with them. If not, one of the younger students would surely pass a message along to her. She was there, though, sitting at the end of the table. Harry stood off to the side and waited for her to finish explaining the Great Grindylow Migration of 1752.
“Need something, Potter?” she asked, coming to stand next to him as the other students began gathering up their books and things. She wasn’t exactly rude or angry, but she definitely wasn’t friendly towards him.
“Hermione says Malfoy isn’t coming to Romania with the rest of us.”
Pansy nodded, watching Harry like she was trying to figure out why it was any of his concern.
“He has to. You need to get him to change his mind.”
Pansy laughed, but it wasn’t a warm or happy sound. “And just why does he have to? Draco doesn’t want to go; that’s his choice. It has nothing to do with you.”
“C’mon, just tell him he needs to come along. We’re playing Quidditch on Sunday, Eighth Years versus the dragonkeepers, and I was hoping he’d practice with me beforehand. “
“Why don’t you ask him yourself?”
“I would, but every time I try to talk to him, he walks away.”
“Do you blame him?”
“Look, Parkinson. Pansy. I know there’s a lot of history here, most of it unhappy, but I’m trying to put the past in the past. I know that we’ll probably never be friends, but I’d really like the chance to be not-enemies. It’s not fair that Malfoy’ll be stuck here in the castle while all the other Eighth Years are in Romania. Plus, he could use the extra credit; I’ve seen his marks in Magical Creatures.”
Parkinson sighed and bit her lip, looking away. “There’s not a lot that is fair in life, Draco’s especially. But he does need the credit, and it’s been so long since he’s played Quidditch.”
“Yeah, exactly!” Harry smiled and nodded encouragingly.
Parkinson scowled at him, like she hadn’t meant for him to hear what she had just said. “I’ll talk to Draco again. I can’t promise anything, though.” With a final glare in Harry’s direction, she scooped up her own books and headed out of the library.
Over the next three days, Harry tried not to let it bother him, tried not to wonder whether or not Parkinson had convinced Malfoy to come. He told himself it didn’t matter, but the truth of the situation was it did. He just didn’t want to have to ask himself why that was.
Thursday evening after dinner, the Eighth Years gathered together outside the Great Hall. They were soon joined by George Weasley, two Aurors Harry only vaguely recognized, and Delilah Heritage, the Care of Magical Creatures teacher. Headmistress McGonagall was fussing about, triple-checking to make sure they had all their necessities for the weekend. Harry was a little relieved she wasn’t able to come with them to chaperone; it was nice that she worried so much about them but it was getting old.
Parkinson and Malfoy were both conspicuously absent (although it was only conspicuous to Harry, apparently, because Dean and Seamus hadn’t noticed until Harry brought it up). Harry watched the hallway that led to the dungeons, glancing anxiously at McGongall from time to time. It would be his luck if Parkinson had talked to Malfoy and ended up agreeing to stay at Hogwarts with him.
Finally, the two of them straggled in, Parkinson dragging Malfoy along behind her. They were holding hands, and Draco was carrying both their backpacks, but neither one of them looked happy. Parkinson, actually, looked like she’d been crying. Harry made his way over to them just as McGonagall started around the room, passing out room assignments, giving last minute instructions, and issuing threats intended to keep everyone on their best behavior.
“Everything okay, Pansy?”
Malfoy glared and moved to stand between Harry and Parkinson. “She’s fine, Potter, you can fuck off now.”
Harry forced a smile and said, “So you decided to join us after all, Malfoy?”
“I heard you needed someone to kick your arse at Quidditch,” Malfoy replied, rolling his eyes.
“In your dreams. But I would like you to practice with me. You’re good competition.”
Malfoy started to say something more, but they were interrupted by McGonagall.
“Miss Parkinson, you will be sharing a room with Miss Granger. I trust you two can manage to get along for a few days.” She looked back down at the list in her hand. “As for you two, Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy, I have paired the two of you up for the weekend. Given the history of violence between you, your room will be directly next to that of Aurors Southwick and Greenleaf. I expect you two to be on your best behavior.” She eyed them both sternly before walking away.
“Is she mad?” Malfoy asked. “Shouldn’t you have been paired up with Weaselbee over there?”
It took Harry a moment to realize Malfoy was actually talking to him. “Oh, um, Ron is going to be rooming with George and Charlie – brotherly bonding time and all that. They invited me to share, but… well, I said no. It’s complicated.”
“To be as simple as you are, you tend to make everything complicated,” Malfoy mumbled, rummaging through one of the backpacks and pulling out a blue sweatshirt that he handed to Parkinson.
Harry had a feeling complicated was an understatement.
Title: A Chance to Be Not-Enemies
Fandom/Pairing: Harry Potter, Harry/Draco(ish)
Rating/Word Count: Everyone, 1000 words
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, or any other part of JKR's wizarding world. No harm intended.
Summary: Now the Eighth Years were planning a long weekend in Romania, to visit Charlie Weasley and to learn something about dragons as extra credit for Care of Magical Creatures. Malfoy had apparently declined the opportunity.
A/N: Written as a result of
wook77's prompt words: laugh, cry, blue. The truth-or-dare game referred to within can be found here.When Harry first mentioned wanting Malfoy along for the weekend, Ron had laughed, thinking it was a joke, but Harry was serious. Ever since the night of the truth-or-dare game – the night of the kiss – Malfoy had been avoiding everyone but Parkinson. Now the Eighth Years were planning a long weekend in Romania, to visit Charlie Weasley and to learn something about dragons as extra credit for Care of Magical Creatures. Malfoy had apparently declined the opportunity.
Harry went looking for the Slytherin study group after dinner, hoping Parkinson was with them. If not, one of the younger students would surely pass a message along to her. She was there, though, sitting at the end of the table. Harry stood off to the side and waited for her to finish explaining the Great Grindylow Migration of 1752.
“Need something, Potter?” she asked, coming to stand next to him as the other students began gathering up their books and things. She wasn’t exactly rude or angry, but she definitely wasn’t friendly towards him.
“Hermione says Malfoy isn’t coming to Romania with the rest of us.”
Pansy nodded, watching Harry like she was trying to figure out why it was any of his concern.
“He has to. You need to get him to change his mind.”
Pansy laughed, but it wasn’t a warm or happy sound. “And just why does he have to? Draco doesn’t want to go; that’s his choice. It has nothing to do with you.”
“C’mon, just tell him he needs to come along. We’re playing Quidditch on Sunday, Eighth Years versus the dragonkeepers, and I was hoping he’d practice with me beforehand. “
“Why don’t you ask him yourself?”
“I would, but every time I try to talk to him, he walks away.”
“Do you blame him?”
“Look, Parkinson. Pansy. I know there’s a lot of history here, most of it unhappy, but I’m trying to put the past in the past. I know that we’ll probably never be friends, but I’d really like the chance to be not-enemies. It’s not fair that Malfoy’ll be stuck here in the castle while all the other Eighth Years are in Romania. Plus, he could use the extra credit; I’ve seen his marks in Magical Creatures.”
Parkinson sighed and bit her lip, looking away. “There’s not a lot that is fair in life, Draco’s especially. But he does need the credit, and it’s been so long since he’s played Quidditch.”
“Yeah, exactly!” Harry smiled and nodded encouragingly.
Parkinson scowled at him, like she hadn’t meant for him to hear what she had just said. “I’ll talk to Draco again. I can’t promise anything, though.” With a final glare in Harry’s direction, she scooped up her own books and headed out of the library.
Over the next three days, Harry tried not to let it bother him, tried not to wonder whether or not Parkinson had convinced Malfoy to come. He told himself it didn’t matter, but the truth of the situation was it did. He just didn’t want to have to ask himself why that was.
Thursday evening after dinner, the Eighth Years gathered together outside the Great Hall. They were soon joined by George Weasley, two Aurors Harry only vaguely recognized, and Delilah Heritage, the Care of Magical Creatures teacher. Headmistress McGonagall was fussing about, triple-checking to make sure they had all their necessities for the weekend. Harry was a little relieved she wasn’t able to come with them to chaperone; it was nice that she worried so much about them but it was getting old.
Parkinson and Malfoy were both conspicuously absent (although it was only conspicuous to Harry, apparently, because Dean and Seamus hadn’t noticed until Harry brought it up). Harry watched the hallway that led to the dungeons, glancing anxiously at McGongall from time to time. It would be his luck if Parkinson had talked to Malfoy and ended up agreeing to stay at Hogwarts with him.
Finally, the two of them straggled in, Parkinson dragging Malfoy along behind her. They were holding hands, and Draco was carrying both their backpacks, but neither one of them looked happy. Parkinson, actually, looked like she’d been crying. Harry made his way over to them just as McGonagall started around the room, passing out room assignments, giving last minute instructions, and issuing threats intended to keep everyone on their best behavior.
“Everything okay, Pansy?”
Malfoy glared and moved to stand between Harry and Parkinson. “She’s fine, Potter, you can fuck off now.”
Harry forced a smile and said, “So you decided to join us after all, Malfoy?”
“I heard you needed someone to kick your arse at Quidditch,” Malfoy replied, rolling his eyes.
“In your dreams. But I would like you to practice with me. You’re good competition.”
Malfoy started to say something more, but they were interrupted by McGonagall.
“Miss Parkinson, you will be sharing a room with Miss Granger. I trust you two can manage to get along for a few days.” She looked back down at the list in her hand. “As for you two, Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy, I have paired the two of you up for the weekend. Given the history of violence between you, your room will be directly next to that of Aurors Southwick and Greenleaf. I expect you two to be on your best behavior.” She eyed them both sternly before walking away.
“Is she mad?” Malfoy asked. “Shouldn’t you have been paired up with Weaselbee over there?”
It took Harry a moment to realize Malfoy was actually talking to him. “Oh, um, Ron is going to be rooming with George and Charlie – brotherly bonding time and all that. They invited me to share, but… well, I said no. It’s complicated.”
“To be as simple as you are, you tend to make everything complicated,” Malfoy mumbled, rummaging through one of the backpacks and pulling out a blue sweatshirt that he handed to Parkinson.
Harry had a feeling complicated was an understatement.
