Rotary Phones

New Year's Greetings

2010-01-01T00:03:31Z

Happy 2010, friends and fandom! May it be filled with love, opportunity and plenty of squee.

Fic: Missing Pages, 2/?

2009-12-08T23:29:42Z

Title: Missing Pages, Chapter 2/?
Pairing: Harry/Cedric
Rating: PG for now, possibly R in the future
Warning: AU in which Cedric replaces the epilogue
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and friends don't belong to me

Summary: The Battle of Hogwarts Report has been released and social tensions are on the rise, but Cedric is faced with more personal tensions when he is enlisted to find a missing friend.

A/N: Sorry, everyone, for the ridiculous delay between chapters! I've had the craziest few months of my life, but now things are calm again and chapter updates should be a bit more frequent. Thanks to my wonderfully helpful beta, b00kaddict.

Chapter 1

Missing Pages
Chapter 2

The midday crowds walking through Diagon Alley were bundled up against the chilly autumn weather, but the café table at which Cedric sat with Scott was protected by a cozy warming charm. They gave their lunch orders to the server then leaned back in their seats, enjoying the weak sun.

“I don’t care what they tell us,” said Scott, propping his feat up on the empty chair next to him. “Spelled windows are no substitute for proper sunlight. I feel like a wilting plant in there.”

“I know what you mean,” Cedric agreed. He’d felt distracted all day, and the fresh air was already doing wonders for clearing his thoughts.

“Does that mean you’re going to stop avoiding me at lunch, then?”

The question was teasing, not accusatory, but it still left Cedric with a pang of guilt. It was true that he rarely joined Scott on his lunch excursions, but he hadn’t accepted this particular invitation to make up for it. His ulterior motive was already making him feel like a miserable friend.

“Now why would I avoid a charming bloke like yourself?” he joked to hide his discomfort. More seriously, he added, “You know I don’t usually like being too far from my desk,” which was true.

Scott snorted and replaced his feet on the ground. “You, my friend, need help. Help and a social life.”

Cedric sighed, reaching for the drink that floated up to the table. “You’re probably right. And I don’t just say that because you’re charming.” He took a sip and asked, “How about you, then? How’s ... Debbie, was it?”

“Debbie?” Scott repeated, making a face that told Cedric all he needed to know. “I told you, mate, Deb and I broke up last week. I’m seeing Alison now.”

Cedric racked his brain for any mention of an Alison. “From the front desk?”

“Merlin, no! Alison from the budget office. You remember her. Short, black hair; great tits.”

“Ah yes, of course,” said Cedric, nodding. “How could I forget that gorgeous head of hair?”

Scott laughed at that. “I swear, you’re such a poof.”

Cedric grinned in response.

Conversation paused as the server returned with their meals. After a few bites, Scott looked up and said, “Seriously though, I wish you’d get out there more. I know you have standards and all, but I’m telling you, there are plenty of worthwhile birds around. And it’s not as though anyone’s going to turn you down. If you’re interested, I could always set you up with one of Alison’s friends—”

“Er, no, that’s okay. Thanks anyway.” They ate for a few minutes in silence. Cedric wasn’t opposed to meeting someone new; the idea of a steady girlfriend definitely had appeal after more than a year of being single. But as much as he might enjoy a future relationship, he hated going on dates. Detested them, in fact. Especially blind ones. In his experience, making awkward small talk over dinner with all of that hovering expectation was no way to start anything. He preferred getting to know someone gradually, organically, so that when things turned romantic it felt natural instead of forced.

Scott, however, thought this was an elaborate excuse to be antisocial. Maybe he was right. “Well,” said Scott, “Alison and I are going out to a pub tonight. You should at least join us.”

“I can’t,” said Cedric apologetically. “I was planning to go to Hermione’s after work.”

He immediately regretted saying that last part. Scott’s eyebrows shot up, and he did a poor job of suppressing a smug expression.

“Again?” is all he said.

“Yes, again. Why, is that all right with you?” Cedric replied defensively. Then he sighed. “I’m just worried about her is all.” He paused, suddenly sensing his opportunity, and unsure if he wanted to take it. Nothing about the situation sat well with him, but he had made a promise and he wasn’t about to break it. He tried to sound casual as he asked, “You don’t have any leads yet, do you?”

The atmosphere shifted for a moment as Scott studied him. If there were leads, Scott would know. Over the years he’d acquired a reputation for being discreet, and so the Auror Department trusted him with information that couldn’t be leaked to the press. Scott, in turn, trusted Cedric in the same way. Whenever he needed to get something off his chest, or work out a particularly challenging puzzle, he invariably turned to Cedric who was always glad to listen without repeating a word.

And now Cedric was betraying that trust.

Scott leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table, and lowered his voice a fraction, though there was no one nearby to overhear. His tone and demeanor turned instantly sober. “There’s nothing to find, really. Ron Disapparated to Merlin knows where, and no one’s seen him since. There’s not much we can do about it, except talk to everyone on the bloody planet. And believe me, we have.”

“So that’s it? You have no leads at all?” Cedric hoped he didn’t sound too suspicious.

“Well, no. We have some theories.” Scott looked around once more to make sure no one was paying them any attention. “We were able to send specialists to the spot of his last known Apparation while there was still evidence. Do you know anything about trace measurement?”

Cedric shook his head.

“Okay. Well, the basic premise is that all magic leaves traces, yeah? And it takes more energy to travel longer distances than shorter ones. So if we get to an Apparation spot before it goes cold, someone with the right training can calculate the amount of magic that was expelled.”

Cedric was impressed; even after all this time, the Aurors still managed to surprise him. “That’s possible? So you know how far he traveled?”

“Exactly. It tends to be a bit dodgy, so there’s always a significant margin of error, but we’re pretty sure that Ron went somewhere between forty and fifty kilometers from the point of departure.”

Scott pulled out his wand and began drawing a rough map on the table, with Ron’s last known location at the center, and major towns and wizarding villages in the surrounding 40-50 kilometer radius. It was obviously a map he knew by heart; Cedric hid a smile. Some wizards became Aurors because of the authority and respect it garnered, or the imagined glamour. If Scott had originally signed up with the Auror Academy for those reasons, he had stayed because this was what he loved: detective work, problem solving.

“We’ve narrowed it down to about five likely destinations.” He pointed to spots on the map as he talked. “There are these three wizarding villages, although we’ve asked around and no one reports having seen him. One advantage of it being Ron Weasley is that everyone knows what he looks like, so he wouldn’t have gone unnoticed. Of course, he could be under a disguise. Then there’s a muggle town in the southwest. Nothing special about it, far as we can tell. They’re hosting a muggle car show this weekend, but I never pegged Ron as a car enthusiast.”

“Maybe he’s gone to surprise Arthur with something?” Cedric suggested. He didn’t know much about the Weasley family beyond their surface reputations. Arthur loved muggle things. His wife, Molly, was purportedly the overbearing sort. And together they had raised a litter of children that ranged from stuffed shirts to pranksters to dragon tamers. He knew all of this, yet hardly knew them as people, and really, he had no business interfering with their lives. Doubt began to resurface, but he did his best to ignore it.

Scott, who’d likely considered every possibility by now, brushed his idea aside. “Even if Ron did want to see cars, why go three days in advance? And at night? It was 7:00 pm when he left – already dark out. And that’s the other thing: Ron’s smart enough not to go Apparating somewhere he’s never been before, especially at night. I’d be worried he got himself stuck in a wall or something, but I’m sure someone would have noticed and reported it by now.”

With a flick, the map in front of them dissolved. “What was the fifth possibility?” Cedric asked.

Scott frowned. “A small muggle airport.”

Cedric took in the implication. He knew from Scott that muggle transportation was a common choice for wizards who wanted to travel undetected. “You don’t think…”

“That he took off without saying anything? Nah, Ron doesn’t strike me as the type, you know? Maybe Harry, but not Ron. He’s too reliable for that.” Scott paused, staring at the people rushing past and going in and out of shops, his mind visibly working out the possibilities.

“So, what do you think?” Cedric prompted.

Scott sighed and returned to his meal. “At this point everyone’s convinced he was attacked, plain and simple, but … there has to be more to it than that. Ron has his enemies, yeah, but he’s a grown wizard, not to mention an Auror and a war hero. He knows how to defend himself. And what I don’t understand is where was he trying to go? Who the hell could he have run into?”

They considered the question in silence. Cedric hoped at least some of this information would be useful to Hermione, especially considering what it would cost his conscience. Then Scott said something that took Cedric by surprise. “I’m sorry I don’t have more information for you.”

They looked at each other for a moment, and Cedric understood. Scott earned a living being observant. He knew damn well where this information was going; he had known all along. Just like that, the tension between them vanished, and Cedric felt his unease suddenly dissipate.

“I really hope you find him,” said Cedric, trying to express gratitude with his sincerity.

Scott brushed it off with a friendly shrug. “You and me both.”

***

Cedric knocked on Hermione’s door, and was momentarily taken aback when Harry was the one who answered. He was even more surprised when Harry actually looked pleased to see him. That eager expression was gone in a flash, but it helped to make Cedric feel just a bit more welcome.

“Come in,” Harry said, stepping aside.

The apartment looked just as it had the night before, but Cedric immediately sensed a different mood in the air. Hermione, who had her wand out over the sink, turned and greeted him with a radiant smile. She looked much better than yesterday—as did Harry, for that matter. They no longer had the look of people forced to sit back and do nothing. Cedric was glad he could offer them a sense of purpose, at least, even if he didn’t have very much to tell.

“Cedric,” said Hermione, “you’re just in time for dessert! Harry’s baking biscuits.”

Cedric noticed the ingredients spread out on the counter, flour and eggs and sugar. “You bake?” he asked without thinking. His voice betrayed his level of surprise.

“Sort of,” was Harry’s vague response. He walked past Cedric and picked up where he must have left off, measuring things manually in muggle containers, then dropping the contents into a large bowl.

Cedric leaned against the counter and, while making small talk with Hermione, watched Harry in profile as he worked. If this made Harry self conscious, he seemed determined not to show it. He retrieved a wooden spoon from a drawer—again, no wand—and began stirring the mixture. It seemed to take some effort, his tensed arm muscles an indication of the batter’s resistance. Cedric didn’t understand why magic wasn’t being used, but it made the whole process somehow fascinating.

“That looks delicious,” he said, watching the mixture evolve into batter.

“Er, thanks,” Harry replied. The compliment seemed to take him by surprise, and he flashed an awkward half-smile. “I guess you could say it’s a family recipe. Of sorts.”

Cedric countered with one of his intentionally disarming grins. “Well, as I’m sure Hermione could tell you, I couldn’t toss a salad to save my life.”

“Fortunately, no one’s life depends on your tossing a salad,” Hermione called over her shoulder. Cedric caught Harry’s glance and they both rolled their eyes, then indulged in brief, silent laughter.

When Harry began arranging spoonfuls of batter onto a tray, Cedric suddenly remembered his manners. “Can I help?” he asked. Although that might have been a silly thing to offer right after announcing his ineptitude.

“No,” said Harry, with surprising vehemence. In a friendlier tone he added, “Thanks anyway,” but it seemed to Cedric that their brief moment of camaraderie had passed.

Hermione may have sensed it as well. She put away the last clean dish, then came over to place a hand on Cedric’s shoulder. “Don’t mind Harry, he’s unbearably stubborn. Why don’t you have a seat, and once he puts those in the oven we can talk.”

It was clear from her tone what they would talk about. When Hermione and Harry joined Cedric in the other room, their expressions were tense with anticipation. Harry leaned forward with his elbows on his knees; Hermione sat with her back very, very straight. For a moment there in the kitchen, Cedric had nearly forgotten the serious matter he’d come to discuss.

“So,” asked Hermione straight away, “Did you manage to learn anything? I’m almost afraid to ask—I can’t imagine the Aurors know all that much.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Cedric saw Harry lean forward. “No, not much,” he admitted. He relayed most of what Scott had told him. The whole time, he felt the heat of Harry’s gaze on the side of his face.

When he finished, there was a solemn pause before Hermione spoke. “At least we can rule out some silly theory of Ron getting on a muggle airplane,” she said with conviction.

Cedric was about to agree when Harry spoke up. “You sure about that?” he muttered.

“Of course I’m sure!” Hermione swiftly asserted. “Ron wouldn’t just run off without telling us.”

For some reason, this made Harry defensive, his words coming out more bitter than he probably intended. “Maybe you know what he would or wouldn’t do, but I sure as hell don’t. For all I know, he decided to hop on some plane to the States to start a new life.”

“Harry, that’s preposterous!”

“He could be anywhere, Hermione. He could be halfway across the world right now, living off his savings.”

“No, he couldn’t,” Cedric interrupted.

Harry leaned back and crossed his arms, ignoring Hermione’s scandalized expression to fix his suddenly confrontational air onto Cedric. “And how do you know that?”

He asked the question like an Auror interrogating a suspicious witness. When, Cedric wondered, had he become the enemy again? He resisted the urge to remind Harry just how much he was risking to help them. “Ron can’t withdraw from any bank other than Gringott’s,” Cedric explained. “Muggle-borns aren’t always aware of that, but Ron would have known. If he decided to run off, he’d have to empty his account first.”

Harry stared at him hard for a minute, and then his expression softened. “Ron doesn’t even like planes,” he admitted with a weary sigh. “And I already checked his place. Nothing’s missing. It’s just…”

Here he trailed off, but Hermione finished his thought for him. “It would be easier to believe he disappeared voluntarily.”

Harry looked at her, then excused himself to check on the biscuits. Cedric said nothing, giving Hermione a chance to think about the information and no doubt store it for later. It wasn’t an awkward silence, but it made Cedric feel like an interloper. Had he overstayed his welcome? Did they want more of him, or did they want him to leave?

Harry returned a moment later, a plate of aromatic biscuits in hand, and the first thing Cedric noticed was the new shift in his demeanor. “You know,” said Harry, no longer brooding but full of excitement, “Cedric has a point. Assuming Ron was acting voluntarily, he’d need to visit Gringotts eventually. He doesn’t usually carry that much gold on him. If we find out the time of his last visit, we could rule out a lot of possibilities.”

“Well that’s easy, then,” Cedric joked. “Just convince the goblins to break their precious client confidentiality.”

Harry turned to Hermione and shrugged with one eyebrow raised. Cedric suddenly remembered that he was talking to the people who had broken into Gringotts four years ago. Who knew what they were capable of? Part of him didn’t even want to know what they were planning, while the other part was dying of curiosity.

“Do you really think he would?” Hermione asked.

“Maybe,” said Harry. “It’s worth a shot. And we’re just looking for information; not as though we’re asking him to steal anything this time.”

Hermione frowned. “Let’s just hope he sees it that way. Shall we go tomorrow?”

“Yeah, the sooner the better.”

Hermione turned to Cedric. “Thank you so much for your help – I don’t know where we’d be without you.”

Cedric took that as his cue to leave. He was already on his feet and ready to bid them goodnight when Harry cut him off.

“You should take one before you leave,” he said, brandishing the plate of biscuits he still held. Cedric took one gladly. “You can come if you like,” he added in exactly the same tone of forced nonchalance. “Tomorrow, when we go to Gringotts. If you’re helping us, you may as well be there.”

Cedric froze with the biscuit halfway to his mouth. The last thing he expected was an invitation. At this point, he hadn’t a clue what Harry thought of him, and he had to admit it was oddly flattering that he’d gained his approval and trust. Cedric didn’t even consider the possibility of implicating himself in something illegal when he blurted, “I’d love to come.”

“Are you sure?” asked Hermione. Whether her surprise was directed at the spontaneous invitation or the eager acceptance, Cedric couldn’t quite tell. He had actually surprised himself with his own enthusiasm, but he had no intention of backing out.

“I’m sure,” he said. Then, casting around for a way to prove his commitment, he noticed the biscuit still in his hand. Cedric raised it in the air. “Cheers,” he said, taking a hearty bite, which had the desired affect of making Harry smile. It was amazing how much more approachable Harry seemed when he smiled.

The biscuit, incidentally, was delicious.

***

The next day, Harry and Hermione explained everything as they walked from The Leaky Cauldron.

“So,” Harry said, keeping his voice down, “you remember the sword of Gryffindor, from when Neville used it to kill the snake?”

The question came out of the blue and nearly caused Cedric to lose his footing. Harry didn’t know. How could he not know? Cedric thought everyone knew by now the fact that he hadn’t been at the Battle of Hogwarts, at all. And yet here was Harry asking a perfectly innocent question that assumed otherwise. No wonder he’d invited Cedric along—he probably thought his name was among those engraved in the new memorial at Hogsmeade, probably assumed a lot of things about Cedric that weren’t even true. Cedric did not want respect earned on false pretences, yet he simply couldn’t bring himself to correct the mistake. Not there, anyway, in the middle of Diagon Alley with everyone staring. Avoiding Hermione’s eyes, he shrugged and nodded, vowing to come clean to Harry later on.

“Well, the sword is actually goblin-made. Wizarding records say it was given to Godric Gryffindor, but goblins claim it was stolen. Either way, they still think it belongs to them—they see it as borrowing, really, not something permanent.”

Harry glanced over to Hermione as though to make sure he’d gotten it right, which made Cedric smile. She must have had quite the influence on him over the years; most wizards didn’t understand, or didn’t bother to understand, the subtleties involved in the goblins’ views of ownership and property. Cedric already knew most of this, but he didn’t interrupt as Harry continued.

“So when Neville pulled the sword from the hat, the goblins considered it a sort of legal theft.” Harry paused, and Cedric nodded again to show he understood. Harry shrugged. “When I explained that to Neville, we both decided to return the sword to the goblins—and that’s why we’re still on good terms with them.”

Cedric was floored by that simple, unexpected statement. Understanding goblin culture was one thing. But going out of one’s way to convince a friend to give up a priceless, hard-won artifact? Cedric wasn’t sure even he would have thought to do that. It showed an incredible amount of selflessness, and though Harry had a reputation for being selfless, here was the actual, tangible proof. Cedric looked at Hermione who was grinning at his flummoxed reaction. As though reading his thoughts, she held up her hands in a gesture that said, I had nothing to do with this.

“You mean Neville just went along with it?” Cedric asked.

Harry didn’t seem to find that as shocking as Cedric did. “Yeah, of course. He didn’t even want that sword. It’s not like he was going to do anything with it.”

“I heard it was stored in some secret room at his grandmother’s house.”

“We started that rumor, actually,” Hermione said. “We thought it would be best if people didn’t know what happened. Most wizards wouldn’t be too pleased about Gryffindor’s sword going back into goblin hands.”

Cedric agreed with her. And yet if he had been in Harry’s shoes, he probably would have turned the gesture into a public statement on goblin rights. It gave him a lot to think about as they walked the remaining distance to Gringotts.

There was a small crowd of people gathered in front of the bank, and as Harry, Hermione, and Cedric approached, their loud chatter diminished to an instant hush. Cedric thought he was used to a certain level of celebrity, but it was nothing compared to this, the exaggerated whispers and stares that followed them as they passed. Wizards had no subtlety, he thought. It was no wonder Harry put up such a defensive front in public.

They entered the bank, and Harry asked if the three of them could speak to a goblin called Griphook privately. There was a visible look of eager hope on the goblins’ pointy faces; they were probably wondering if another artifact might be returned to them.

With much pomp and circumstance, the three of them were led to a room that was small but lavish, with priceless treasures hanging from the walls. The room was also well guarded. Cedric guessed that it was typically used for closing clandestine business deals with the wealthy, designed both to impress and to intimidate.

He was removed from his thoughts when a particularly sour-looking goblin—Griphook, he presumed—entered the room and locked the door behind him. He sat across from them, clasping his long fingers together then giving them all a cold, appraising stare. For a moment, no one said anything to break the silence.

Then Harry spoke first. “Thank you for meeting with us, Griphook. I’m afraid we’ve come to ask you a favor.”

Cedric had to keep from cringing. He would have used a bit more tact than that, and he was surprised when Griphook didn’t throw them out immediately.

But perhaps the goblin appreciated the frankness, for he nodded once to show he understood. “I suppose it would have been naïve of me to assume that you had come to return another of our possessions. In fact, I had been wondering how long it would be before you asked for something in return.”

“Wait, that’s not fair,” Harry said. “It’s not like that. I’m not even asking for myself.” He paused. “I don’t know if you’ve heard about Ron Weasley going missing.”

“Yes, I have heard of this,” Griphook said without sentiment. Even though the disappearance hadn’t been made public yet, Cedric wasn’t surprised. Half of the Ministry were gossips, and the goblins were very shrewd at staying on top of current events.

Harry seemed uncertain how to proceed. “Well, we were hoping … I’m not asking for a lot. Just, if you have any information about Ron, at all, like whether he’s been to his vault recently…” Harry trailed off as Griphook’s expression darkened.

“Mr. Potter, we goblins are sworn to confidentiality with regards to our clients. We do not, under any circumstance, give out information, regardless of how many swords we are bribed with, or how close you and your friend may possibly be.“

Something struck a nerve. Harry’s expression darkened, but Hermione quickly placed a cautionary hand on his elbow, then took on the plea.

“You don’t understand. We’re not asking for this in exchange for the sword. Harry returned that because it was the right thing to do. What we’re asking for now, it’s only to protect our friend—there’s no personal gain involved. And I can promise you, if you help us, we won’t repeat a word of it to anyone, wizard or goblin.”

Griphook grunted in doubt, but seemed to give the matter due consideration, resting his chin on his laced fingers. There was a long, uncomfortable silence that Cedric suspected was intentionally drawn out. Then Griphook spoke again, addressing Hermione.

“I know of the Wizarding-Goblin Treaty you attempted to pass last year. It was an admirable effort, despite being extremely naïve. And we felt it granted far more protection to wizards than was warranted. Still, we were saddened to see it fail. Not surprised, but saddened nonetheless.”

Hermione stared at him with her mouth hanging slightly open. Cedric thought that she might have bristled at the ‘naïve’ comment had she not been so thoroughly shocked. Hardly anyone outside the Wizengamot even knew or cared about the treaty, because the Ministry had wanted to keep it under wraps. Anything involving goblins these days was simply too controversial. It was hardly a surprise when the bill crashed and burned on the hearing floor, though Cedric knew Hermione had been greatly upset at the time. Now, she thanked Griphook in a small voice.

“Against my better judgment,” he continued slowly, “I would like to help. I trust the two of you to keep a secret, and I also trust that you would use the information selflessly.” Griphook stopped to give a pointed stare in Cedric’s direction. Cedric didn’t look away or otherwise back down from the implied challenge.

“Him, however, I have no reason to trust.”

Harry’s temper visibly flared once more. Cedric decided to speak for himself before Harry said something to ruin what little chance they had. It made him wonder, once again, why Harry had even invited him.

“Sir, the only reason I’m here today is because we wanted to be completely honest with you. I’ve been helping them look for Ron Weasley, so any information would have come back to me in the end. This way, what you tell us never has to leave this room.” He was being honest about his intentions to keep his mouth shut. And keeping this from Scott was actually a difficult promise to make.

Griphook still looked unconvinced, until Hermione leaned forward and said, “You know, Cedric is the one who helped me write the treaty and get it in front of the Wizengamot in the first place.”

Cedric’s help at the time had been minimal, but this seemed to finally placate the goblin. Griphook nodded again solemnly and said, “Very well. I’ll tell you what I think is relevant to your search, but no more. And what I tell you is not to be repeated to anyone.”

“Thank you,” said Harry, looking at once relieved and nervous about what was to be said.

Griphook let out a long sigh. “Ron Weasley last made a withdrawal from his vault this past Tuesday.”

“The day after he disappeared?” Hermione cried.

Griphook held up a hand to silence her.

“He arrived at 6 AM when the bank opened, wearing a simple disguise of a few glamours. We took him down to his vault where he retrieved some of his gold, though I will not tell you the amount. He was gone by 6:30. Before he left, he asked us not to reveal to anyone that he had been there.” To emphasize what a breach of protocol he was committing, Griphook took a few moments to give each of them a piercing glare.

Next to Cedric, Harry let out a sigh of relief.

Cedric’s brain ran through the information, probably wondering the same things they all were: was this good news or bad news? If Ron was well enough the next day to visit Gringotts, did that mean he was safe, or did it mean that he was in trouble?

“So that’s it?” Harry asked. “Can you tell us anything more, anything about his state of mind, or why – why he didn’t want anyone to know where he was?”

“I cannot. You should consider yourselves fortunate I told you as much as I have.”

“At least tell us what his glamour looked like. Did he change his hair color, or–“

“I’m sorry, Mr. Potter. All I can tell you is that they clearly did not want–“

“They?” Harry shot forward in his seat, gripping the armrests. “Someone was with him?”

Cedric hadn’t even noticed the slip, and clearly neither had Griphook. He paled as much as it was possible for a goblin to pale, looking absolutely horrified with himself. Suddenly, he leapt to his feet. One would have thought by his stance that he was prepared to fight.

“No,” he said. “I will not divulge any more information about our clients. I have said far too much already.” He crossed the small room in a few strides, and threw open the heavy door in one swift motion. “Get out.”

For a moment, Cedric wasn’t sure if Harry would. He was giving Griphook one of those stares of his, the one that looked as though he were rallying all of his magic for a wordless strike. Cedric had been on the receiving end of those stares a few times already. But then Hermione whispered, “Let’s go, Harry,” and soon the three of them were outside, blinking in the sun glinting off of the shops.

Cedric waited for Harry or Hermione to speak. Finally, Hermione let out a slow breath and said, “Thank goodness he’s safe.”

“We don’t know that,” Harry snapped. “He could have been there with an accomplice, or—“

“Accomplice?” Hermione interrupted. “Accomplice in what?”

Harry ignored her. “Or he could have been there with a Death Eater. Maybe someone who wanted his gold. All we can say for sure is that he wasn’t blindly attacked the day he disappeared, and if he ran off, he didn’t do it alone.”

Hermione brought a hand to her temple and shut her eyes. “Ron did not run off,” she insisted. “He wouldn’t do that. Not anymore.” Cedric didn’t know what that was referring to, but he knew better than to ask. He was increasingly getting the sense that something important was going unsaid. At the very least, it seemed clear that the beloved trio was not what the media made them out to be, which was no surprise to Cedric.

“I can try and find out if anyone else has gone missing,” he offered. “It might tell us the identity of the second person.”

Harry looked relieved. “That would really help. I can’t ask until Monday without sounding suspicious.”

“Will you be around tomorrow night?” Cedric asked. At this rate, he would be visiting Hermione’s on a daily basis. Scott would no doubt have something to say about that.

“Actually, I’m babysitting tomorrow,” said Harry, which by that point was one in a long string of surprises.

Cedric couldn’t possibly imagine Harry Potter with kids, since he had seen nothing of Harry’s personality that would be conducive to babysitting. Did he coddle them? Threaten them? Ignore them? “Where are you babysitting?” Cedric asked. “I could meet you there. That is, if it’s okay with the parents, and it’s not too much trouble for you.”

It was such a transparent attempt to insinuate himself into Harry’s personal life that it was embarrassing, but Harry didn’t seem bothered. “That wouldn’t be any trouble. Actually, I wouldn’t mind the company.” He turned to Hermione. “Will you be there tomorrow?”

“I don’t think I can make it. I have too much work to catch up on before Monday. But I’m sure you or Cedric can fill me in at the office.” She smiled at both of them, looking strangely pleased about something. Cedric could just imagine the conversation they’d be having on Monday; something along the lines of, ‘I told you Harry wasn’t what he seems.’ Cedric was certainly beginning to see that for himself.

A few hours later, Cedric made a floo call to Scott. “Hey, mate, are you going out again tonight?”

Torchwood Big Bang Art

2009-11-23T12:58:50Z

And here it is! My contribution for tw_bigbang. Go read the accompanying story, Holding to the Ground by thescarletwoman.

Things to come

2009-11-13T05:20:25Z

After one of the craziest weeks imaginable and a generous extension, I finally managed to finish my art for tw_bigbang. *wipes brow* It'll be up later this month, and I'll post it here as well. I can't wait to see how it looks with the story.

As for the second chapter of Missing Pages, it's . . . getting there. Did I say I've had a crazy week? I meant crazy month. But hopefully I'll have more time to start writing again soon.

And now for something completely unrelated to fandom: here's some art I made today!

Why The Wild Things Are

2009-10-17T18:48:53Z

Now that a day has passed, I find myself with a lot to say about this movie. I mean A LOT. Major spoilers are below the cut, although I doubt there's anyone who isn't familiar with the story. :)

WTWTA is like an adult film written by a ten year old. Not that it's a ten year old's idea of what an adult would like to watch, but the portrayal of
childhood is so artful and accurate and that I wonder if anyone but adults will fully appreciate it. Or maybe it's simply a film created by a bunch of grownups with childish brains (which I mean as a compliment). In any case, if the reviews so far have been mixed, it's probably because the film is intended for a very specific audience: very mature kids, and particularly childlike adults.

I'm not going to list everything I loved about this movie, because that would take way too long and most of it should go without saying. Every second is gorgeous, and the script is wonderful. Exceeding my expectations, however, is the incredible actor who plays Max (whose name,
mind bogglingly, is also Max). It's like no one told him he was supposed to be acting, and the dialog is so brilliantly written that it feels like he might be making it up on the spot.

Actually, of all the elements of the film, Max was the only one where I was able to completely divorce myself from the real life people behind the
scenes. I'm pretty sure this was just me; I'm such a fan of everyone involved in this project, I couldn't help thinking, "This has Spike Jonze written all over it." Or, "Dave Eggers sure understands ten-year-old logic." Or, "Carter Burwell and Karen O work so well together." These
thoughts took me out of the film at times, but again, I doubt that will be a problem for anyone else. I'm just a weirdo fangirl. :)

An entire essay could probably written on gender in WTWTA, and I'm sure at some point it will be. The wild things, as monsters out of a child's imagination, were all rather gender ambiguous which I found incredibly refreshing. Take two of the main monsters, Carol and KW. By name alone, someone who hasn't seen the movie might be surprised to learn that KW is female and Carol is male, especially since KW--and all the females as far as I could tell--is the one with pronounced facial hair. The relationship between these two is similarly ambiguous. Are they brother and sister, estranged friends, or potential boyfriend and girlfriend? It's probably irrelevant when the only relationship in the movie that counts is a broad definition of family. Carol echoes Max's biggest fears, in that he just wants everyone to be together like they used to be. This refers both to the wild things all sleeping together in a big pile, as well as Max's sister who has suddenly out-matured him and his divorced mother who is seeing new people.

It's interesting that reviewers are calling this movie scary for little kids, and citing violence as the reason. The violence--the sort of pent-up energy that boys Max's age don't know what to do with--isn't what makes the movie scary. It's scary because it deals with loneliness and lack of control, themes that kids know all too well. Max's sovereignty over the wild things is tenuous right from the start; even though they're his friends, they could still turn around and eat him at any moment. This uncertainty over Max's ability to control the creatures of his own imagination is what I found most frightening, and it reminded me what it was actually like to be that age. Max can never quite escape the consequences of reality. It's no wonder that the inhabitants of Max's fantasy world have a fantasy world of their own (Carol's diorama).

I think by the end, what surprised me the most was how understated everything was. I was expecting more sweeping, nostalgic emotion, but despite the love and temper tantrums and epic battles and goodbyes, the movie still felt very quiet to me. I think that's due to how much goes unsaid. There's a very clear trope that the book and the movie both follow: kid has trouble at home, runs away to a fantasy world, solves his problems in this parallel world, then returns home to make amends. It's what the audience expects, only none of that is made explicit. What exactly is the root of Max's trouble at home? What does he learn from the wild things, precisely? Are things resolved before he leaves? Are things even resolved once he comes home? I kept expecting these questions to be answered in the theater, but true to its ten-year-old perspective, none of the answers are quite so simple or clear.

And in the end, it's really not about solving problems or learning lessons or making everything better again. It's about facing reality, and growing from the experience. The sun will die one day and there's nothing we can do about it, but that should make us appreciate it all the more.

I really cannot wait to see this movie again. I can already tell, I'll be getting more and more out of it the more times I see it.

Where The Wild Things Were

2009-10-16T07:01:36Z

I just, just got back from the midnight screening of Where The Wild Things Are. I don't think I have ever been so anxious to see a film in my life, and my expectations for it were pretty much through the roof. So without spoilers, the highest praise I can give it is this: it was pretty much what I expected. :)

(Comments may be spoilery, especially if anyone else has seen it and would like to discuss!)

Crazy Weekend Plans

2009-10-10T02:11:17Z

So tomorrow, a bunch of friends and I are going on a road trip to--get this--my friend's parents' llama farm in New Jersey. No joke. I've been promised two llamas and tons of pie. :)

But what I actually wanted to mention is that on Sunday, I'll be traveling to DC for the National Equality March that's happening. Hopefully it will be a good turnout, although I'm sure I'll enjoy myself regardless. Anyone in the area should come out! (Ha. Pun intended.)

ETA: I was reminded that today was Coming Out Day, so in case anyone wasn't aware, hi! I'm rotaryphones and I'm a lesbian.

Random Art Making

2009-10-03T15:34:58Z

I have two new pieces of art, done for different monthly challenges over at hp_fringeart. They are both sort of retro, and very derivative of other people's work. :)

For September's challenge, Seasons:
Snowy Owl
Hedwig, G

For October's challenge, Sunday Mornings:
Sunday Mornings Are For
Hermione, Ron, and Harry, G

Fic: Missing Pages, 1/?

2009-09-26T14:10:31Z

Title: Missing Pages, Chapter 1/?
Pairing: Harry/Cedric
Rating: PG for now, possibly R in the future
Warning: AU in which Cedric replaces the epilogue
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and friends don't belong to me

Summary: The Battle of Hogwarts Report has been released and social tensions are on the rise, but Cedric is faced with more personal tensions when he is enlisted to find a missing friend.

A/N: This story has been a long time coming! Thanks so much to my beta b00kaddict who went above and beyond, and really managed to get this fic off the ground. Thanks also to sprawling_song for her excellent Brit-picking. Chapter updates may be a bit sporadic, but I promise that they're coming. :)

Missing Pages
Chapter 1

The way Cedric Diggory saw it, Harry Potter had a responsibility.

Not that Potter hadn’t done enough already. Cedric wasn’t trying to trivialize his accomplishments, as though such a thing were even possible. And he knew that Potter had never asked for fame, never asked to symbolize hope for millions of witches and wizards across Europe, and he had certainly never asked for that scar on his forehead. From the moment Potter had been placed on a pedestal, he wanted off—Cedric understood and respected that.

But the fact remained that after the war, Harry Potter was the one person with enough political sway to step forward and affect some real change in the world. And although he had refused that responsibility in the past, Cedric was certain this would be the perfect opportunity to reconsider.

“He’s not going to do it,” Hermione said.

Cedric put his fork down. “How do you know until you ask?”

Hermione sighed and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. The Ministry cafeteria in which they sat was nearly empty this late in the day, the only other sounds coming from the house elves in the kitchen as they cleaned. Hermione had chosen this time specifically for the lack of distraction, and now she attempted to steer Cedric back to the matter at hand.

“I don’t have to ask him,” she said. “And I don’t see why I should. You’re far better at public relations anyway.”

She was trying to dissuade him with flattery, but Cedric wouldn’t be put off quite so easily. Frankly, he’d always found Hermione a bit overprotective of her famous friend, and he was convinced Potter should be given the opportunity to decide for himself. “I just can’t see why he’d turn us down. All we’re trying to do is protect people.”

The war may have ended four years ago, but people still needed protection. Cedric saw it all around him these days. Anti-muggle sentiment ran as high as ever in certain quarters, the magical beings Hermione worked with had to struggle for the most basic rights, and people were being locked out of jobs just because of their family name. Then, to make matters worse, just last week the Ministry had finally released their official report of what had transpired at the Battle of Hogwarts. Whatever tensions had eased in the intervening years were quickly returning to the surface. Protection was now more important than ever.

That was why Cedric and Hermione had taken it upon themselves to draft an antidiscrimination bill for the Wizengamot. And that was why they needed Harry Potter’s public support if they ever wanted it to pass.

It seemed like infallible logic to Cedric, but Hermione shook her head. “It’s a moot point. Trust me. You don’t know Harry like I do.”

That, at least, was something Cedric couldn’t argue with. Hermione’s friendship with Harry had famously predated their sorting, and outlasted her relationship with Ron.

“Right then,” she said, leaning over to rummage through her bag. “I managed to stop by the Allocation Department this morning, and I’ve reserved the Ketteridge Auditorium for two weeks from now.”

“Ketteridge?” Cedric interrupted with a grimace. The only press conferences held there were the ones covered exclusively by the Quibbler. “You couldn’t get anything larger?”

“I know it’s not ideal, but it will have to do. We’re not exactly supporting a popular cause, you know. The employee at the Allocation Department refused to believe we’d draw any crowd, let alone the hundred we predicted.” She extracted one of her notebooks and a quill—Cedric had never known her to be without either—and wrote something down. “How are we doing on numbers, by the way?”

“I’m working on it,” said Cedric hesitantly. “I do have confirmation from at least one person at the Prophet.”

“Oh that’s wonderful news!” Hermione said, brightening. Cedric noted the surprise in her voice. Ever since they had become friends, he had watched her learn the hard way that being the genius best friend of Harry Potter earned you no more respect than being a Triwizard Champion. People might ask for your autograph, but unless you had been at the Ministry for at least twenty years and with all the right connections, they wouldn’t ask for your opinion.

Hermione suddenly looked up with narrowed, perceptive eyes. “Hold on. When you say ‘person,’ you do mean ‘reporter,’ correct?”

“Well…not precisely. But she told me—”

“Of course,” Hermione interrupted with a huff. “I should have known it would be a ‘she.’”

Cedric scowled at her, placing both hands on the table. “I’ll have you know, Miss Granger, that I don’t appreciate your implications. I am perfectly capable of drawing a male audience to this function.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “I don’t doubt that you can—assuming they’re all homosexual.”

He managed to glare at her for a good ten seconds while she stared back defiantly. Then they burst out in simultaneous laughter.

“This press conference is going to be a disaster,” Cedric half-jokingly lamented. If only he could find a way to convince Potter to make an appearance.

“Don’t worry,” Hermione assured him. “We’ll find something other than your irresistible charm to attract people.” She looked to her watch, then began gathering her things. “I must be getting back, I’m afraid. Same time tomorrow? We can start working on your speech if you like.”

“Absolutely,” said Cedric. He leaned back and let out another chuckle. “And make sure to keep an eye out for any single gay wizards with influence.”

Hermione gave him an oddly polite smile, then turned and left.

***

The next day at noon, Cedric stopped by the Department for the Regulation of Magical Creatures, only to discover that Hermione hadn’t come in to work.

Cedric didn’t think much of it. There was something he’d been putting off for a week now, and this seemed as good a time as any to get it over with. Lunch in hand, he returned to his desk in the Department of International Cooperation and, after a moment’s hesitation, cast a locking charm on the door. He removed a thin book from one of his drawers and placed it on the desk.

It sat there for a minute, ominously staring up at him. The book had a plain black jacket, pristine and new, with small silver writing along the spine. Amazing that something so innocuous could cause so much unrest. He figured he had until the press conference to read it so he’d know what kind of reactions to expect, but that didn’t make the task any easier. Cedric tapped his fingers against it in agitation, then tried to stall for a few moments by starting on his lunch only to find that he was no longer hungry. With a deep breath, he opened to the title page while the binding creaked in protest.

The Official Ministry of Magic Battle of Hogwarts Report
As Commissioned by the Wizengamot and Minister of Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt

Following this were a list of names of those who had conducted the research, some Cedric recognized and some he didn’t. He flipped to the preface.

We hereby present the official account of the events that transpired from six o’clock in the evening on May 12, 1998, to three o’clock in the morning on May 13. The information provided in this book was compiled from first hand accounts, extensive magical diagnostics of the Hogwarts castle, and countless hours of Death Eater interrogation. We believe it to be an accurate summary of the Battle that ended the Second War, both a tragic and triumphant event that will forever shape the Wizarding Community.

Before examining these facts, we at the Ministry of Magic wish to start by offering our sincerest gratitude, and the gratitude of all Wizards and Witches everywhere, to the brave men and women whose names appear in the following pages. We would also like to take this opportunity to commemorate those who lost their lives in the fight against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. The price they paid will not be forgotten.

Cedric shut the book.

Maybe he wasn’t ready for this. His heart was pounding as though he were facing a boggart instead of a book. He closed his eyes and reminded himself that these were nothing more than printed words on parchment, and that he of all people shouldn’t be affected by it. Regardless, he knew he wouldn’t bring himself to read it, not today.

What a coward he’d become.

Carefully picking up the Report once again, Cedric flipped instead to the index in the back, scanning the names for the ones he would recognize. He didn’t bother to look for his own.

Scott Levine, Auror, 82, 84, 98-99, 101-102, 158-162, 170

He read through the page numbers methodically, wondering which of his friend’s accomplishments had been worthy of inclusion, and which had been left out of history. Was there mention of the curse that nearly took Scott’s arm? Did the pages at the end describe his painful month long recovery in a too-crowded, understaffed hospital room?

He ventured ahead to the following page, which read:

Matthew Moore, Auror, 82, 90-92, 189

Cedric traced Matt’s name with his fingers. He knew what these numbers represented: the final moments of his friend’s life. There they were, clutched between his hands, accessible to anyone who wished to read them. Matt’s sacrifice distilled to five pages.

And what made it all the more jarring was that on the page opposite Matt’s sat the entry for Potter, Harry. The numbers that followed this name seemed to go on forever, probably extending far past the end of the page, escaping death over and over again, accomplishing the impossible, and then stopping abruptly at the back cover.

Cedric closed the book again gently. He still had two weeks before he absolutely needed to read it. Putting it off for another day wouldn’t hurt.

***

Cedric continued to look for Hermione over the next two days, but she remained conspicuously absent from the office, unusual considering her aversion to sick days. In fact, the more he asked around, the more worried he became. No one in her department seemed to know exactly where she was, or else they wouldn’t tell him. Even her friends hadn’t heard from her in some time. Worst of all, a solemn atmosphere seemed to have fallen over the Aurors, which was never a good sign.

Cedric didn’t want to seem paranoid or intrusive, but he had finally decided to owl her when Scott stopped him in the hall and pulled him off to the side. “Hey, I heard you were looking for Hermione. Has anyone told you what happened yet?” Panic washed over him, but Scott noticed and quickly reassured him. “Don’t worry, she’s fine. It’s not her. It’s…well, it’s Ron Weasley.”

It was in a tone of voice, hushed and grave, that Cedric hadn’t heard since the war. He thought of the book still locked in his desk drawer and felt suddenly nauseous. ”What happened?”

Scott sighed, and it wasn’t until then that Cedric noticed how exhausted he looked. “We don’t actually know. He’s been missing since Monday. Went on a routine disturbance call and never came back. The Aurors are trying to keep it quiet, but…I don’t know how long that’s going to last. This is bad news for our department, not to mention the entire Ministry. I mean, we haven’t lost anyone so prominent since…”

Cedric nodded. He didn’t need Scott to finish that sentence—it had become habit between them to avoid mentioning the war.

“Anyway, that’s why Hermione hasn’t been in,” Scott continued. “We’re keeping her and Harry at arm’s length for now, at least until we make some headway. She’s pretty shaken up from what I heard. I’m sure she could use some support.”

Cedric was still reeling from the news, and it took a moment before he noticed the knowing look Scott was giving him. He stepped back and ran a hand over his face. “I told you, it’s not like that. We’re just friends.”

Scott raised his hands in defense. “Hey, sorry. I wasn’t trying to imply anything. Listen, mate, I have to run. I’ll keep you posted, all right?”

Cedric watched him disappear around the corner, and sank back against the wall. There was nothing he hated more than feeling helpless.

***

After work, Cedric apparated straight to Hermione’s flat, and then stood nervously at her doorstep. He wasn’t sure if it was appropriate for him to be there; he was hardly her closest friend, and what could he possibly say? But he had to say something. Feeling like an intruder, he knocked quietly on the door, a knock that seemed to echo through the empty landing.

After a brief moment and the sound of shuffling feet, the door opened slowly, just a crack, and then flew wide as Hermione stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him.

“Cedric,” she said into his shoulder before stepping back. “I’m so glad you’re here. Please, come in.”

Cedric followed her through the doorway, taking in the details of her small, tidy flat. A well-worn sofa sat against one wall, and a coffee table stood before it, topped with a decorative tissue box and a small mound of used tissues. A kitchenette opened up on one side of the room, a bedroom through the door on the other. A blazing fireplace was nestled in the corner. The photos that sat on the mantelpiece above remained mostly still—muggle—although there were a few that eagerly waved at him; Cedric could pick out the red headed figures even from a distance.

And there, seated in a chair that faced the fireplace, so still that at first Cedric mistook him for furniture, was Harry Potter. Harry was eyeing him carefully, a calculating gaze that wasn’t exactly friendly, and certainly didn’t make Cedric feel any more welcome. Cedric offered a small nod, which Harry didn’t return. He simply went back to staring into the fire.

“Can I get you some tea?” Hermione called from the stove. She looked unsteady as she set the water boiling. Cedric wanted to help, but Hermione probably needed something to do with her hands. Instead he stood awkwardly in the middle of the living room, wondering once again why he had come, and whether he should give his condolences and quickly leave. It was clear, at least, that Potter didn’t want him there.

Hermione reentered the room, holding her own mug and levitating the other before her. Cedric caught his with a muttered, “Thanks.”

“Sit down, please.” She motioned to the sofa, and Cedric took the offered seat, Hermione sinking down next to him. “So then.” She eyed her tea, spinning the mug in her hand. Her voice was tense and strained. “So I suppose you heard about—about what—”

Hermione suddenly burst into tears, and before Cedric could say or do anything, Harry was there next to her. He pried the mug from Hermione’s fingers, and Hermione immediately clung to his waist. With her head buried in his chest, she made no attempt to stifle her sobs, while Potter mutely rubbed her back. He looked up at Cedric, and the question was unmistakable: Why are you here?

Cedric was asking himself the same thing, and didn’t need any more of a hint. He placed down his tea and moved to stand, but Hermione spun around and caught his wrist.

“No. Don’t go. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Cedric sat back down and placed his hand over hers. “I should be sorry. I shouldn’t have barged in here like this…”

“Don’t be stupid.” Hermione let out a sigh, reaching for a new tissue and adding it to the pile when she was done with it. “Of course I appreciate that you came. I just wish I weren’t such a mess.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You look gorgeous to me.”

Hermione choked out a wet laugh. “Always the flatterer.”

Cedric smiled briefly and then looked down at his lap. Their usual banter sounded horribly inappropriate in front of Harry, who remained sitting protectively close on Hermione’s other side. It would probably be best if he just said what he came to say, then quickly left. “I’m so sorry about what’s happened. I’m sure that … well, I just wanted to let you know that if there’s anything at all I can do to help …”

He was angry with himself the moment he said those words. What an awful, empty thing to say, and it only served to remind himself of his own uselessness.

But to his surprise, Hermione gave him a serious look, and then turned to face Harry, whose expression darkened. He shook his head once, sharply. Hermione gave him a pointed expression, and his eyebrows came together in frustration. Then he spoke.

“Hermione, no.”

Hermione let out a ragged sigh. “Why are you being so difficult about this? I don’t see—”

“Because this isn’t about him.” Harry’s eyes darted in his direction, and Cedric suddenly realized that he was the subject of their silent discussion. He found himself even more uncomfortable than before, not to mention a bit annoyed at Harry’s rudeness.

“This isn’t about you either! This is about Ron!” Hermione choked out the name, and turned to face Cedric again. Harry grabbed her shoulder, but she shrugged him off, looking determined. “Actually, Cedric, we could use your help.”

“Hermione, I’m not getting him involved!” Harry insisted.

Hermione ignored him. “First of all, you should know that Harry and I aren’t waiting for the Aurors to find Ron. It’s not that we don’t trust them, it’s just—” Hermione paused, and gave another small laugh. “All right, no, we don’t trust them. So we’ve been trying to track Ron down ourselves. I’m only telling you this because I trust you to keep quiet about it.”

Cedric nodded, although he wasn’t sure he liked where this was going. “Of course.”

“The problem is that we don’t really know anything,” said Hermione with a sad shrug. “We already talked to the last person Ron spoke with. Just some witch up north who thought the cat going through her rubbish might have been a Death Eater.” Cedric wasn’t so surprised to hear this; everyone had been a bit on edge since the release of the Report last week. “And after that, he just—Apparated off. We don’t know where.”

Cedric listened carefully as Hermione spoke, waiting to see why she was sharing this information, while his eyes and thoughts kept wandering to Harry. This was the first time they had really interacted since the Tournament, and the first time Cedric had seen him up close, aside from press photos of a scowling man trying to cover his face.

In some ways, Harry bore little resemblance to the frightened kid who’d once out flown a dragon. The Harry Potter he used to know had been on the brink of adolescence: features caught somewhere between cute and handsome without achieving either, some added inches that only accentuated his skinny build, and a terrible posture to boot. The man sitting on the couch, however, was clearly an adult. He still had a small frame, but it had filled out considerably. He had a hard jaw line and confident eyes. He wasn’t handsome, not in the way Cedric knew himself to be handsome, but there was still something unconventionally attractive about him. Maybe it had more to do with the way he carried himself than his looks alone.

On the other hand, there were so many ways in which he hadn’t changed. His hair was still a scruffy mess that may have looked intentional five years ago. He still wore those unflattering frames, although Cedric was certain he could afford better. And he still had a terrible posture. Although now it didn’t seem to be a result of teenage awkwardness so much as a desire not to be seen.

Harry caught him staring, and Cedric immediately looked away.

“To be honest, I’m not sure where we go from here,” Hermione was saying. “And the Aurors are being frustratingly tight-lipped. They keep telling us Harry’s ‘too close to the case’ or some rubbish.”

“It’s because they know you too well,” Cedric suddenly interrupted, thinking of what Scott had told him earlier. “They know you’ll want to try and find him on your own, and they don’t want you getting underfoot. Or worse, making them look bad.”

“That’s bullshit,” said Harry. “We could be helping! We know Ron better than anyone.”

“I’m not saying I agree with it,” Cedric quickly added. Although, considering Harry’s record of bending the rules, he understood why the Aurors would want to distance themselves. He looked to Hermione expectantly. “So…what exactly do you need me to do?”

Hermione looked a little uncertain. “You don’t—you don’t have to, you know. It’s just that no one will tell us anything, and well, I thought…”

She trailed off, but understanding coalesced in Cedric’s mind. “You thought I could get you information.”

She looked back at Harry, before turning to Cedric and nodding. “I understand if it’s asking too much.”

Cedric was silent as he gave it some consideration. Hermione knew what she was asking, and she knew it wouldn’t sit well with him. He could get the information easily enough; that wasn’t the problem. The problem was that the Aurors had their reasons for withholding intelligence, whether he agreed with them or not, and she was essentially asking him to go against a Ministry department. That just wasn’t the way he did things. And then there was Harry. Should he really be taking risks for someone who didn’t even want him to?

Cedric quickly glanced over at him, and found Harry boldly staring back. Yet, to his surprise, it wasn’t hostility that he saw in Harry’s eyes anymore. It was a challenge—as though he didn’t think Cedric had it in him to say yes. As though this were some sort of test of character. There was an intense determination that lit up Harry’s face, a refusal to sit back and do nothing, a willingness to do whatever it took, and he was just daring Cedric to do the same.

Despite his misgivings, the clear challenge sparked something in Cedric’s chest, something exhilarating. He remembered standing in front of a goblet, one hand hovering over the rim clutching a tiny piece of parchment with his name.

Cedric looked Hermione in the eye and nodded. “Of course I’ll help.”

Chapter 2

Upcoming fannish activity

2009-09-22T03:32:13Z

After a silly amount of waffling, I finally decided to sign up to do art for Torchwood Big Bang. Since I still don't know Torchwood fandom that well, I'm hoping it'll be a good way to offer something where people might see it. And maybe read some good fic in the process. :) Plus, I'm an illustrator at heart - I love having an assignment to work off of. Posting will begin around mid-November, so I should have plenty of time.

In the meanwhile, I'm FINALLY finishing up the first chapter of an untitled Harry/Cedric suspense story that I've been brainstorming on and off for way too long. Heh. I'm super excited about it, because I have the help of the incomparable b00kaddict who is somehow making perfect sense of my scattered outline. It's going to be longer than anything else I've written, and plottier too. *Fingers crossed!* The first chapter will be posted sometime in the very near future.

Fic and Art Update!

2009-08-04T05:50:38Z

So I haven't done anything big lately, but there are a few little things I've posted here and there. First, two ficlets inspired by the new film:

Title: It Felt Like This
Characters: Harry, Hermione, implied Harry/Cedric and Hermione/Ron
Rating: G
Summary: He found Hermione sitting at the bottom of the stairs, her head surrounded by a halo of circling yellow birds, and she was crying. Definitely crying.

and

Title: Extracurricular Matters
Characters: Dumbledore
Rating: PG
Summary: Harry's personal life is the last thing that Dumbledore should be concerning himself with.

And now for the art! This was done for the International Day of Femslash challenge at hp_femsmut, so keep in mind that there's sexin' involved. Though, to be honest, it's pretty tame. This was both my first work of femslash and my first work of smut, which made it a fun challenge.

Title: Grass Stains
Pairing: Hermione/Ginny
Rating: R-ish, NSFW
Warnings: Mild nudity, mild sexual content.
Medium: Pen, digital coloring

New fandoms are big and scary

2009-07-24T04:59:44Z

Is anyone on my tiny little flist watching Torchwood? If so...

I need a hug. A hug and a pat on the back and the assurance that my favorite character didn't actually die.

I had been holding out to watch the American broadcast of CoE (except that I cheated and just watched the last episode online). And now that it's all over, now that it's wreaked such havoc on my emotions, I feel the urge to seek out Torchwood fandom. Apparently I have a tendency to join fandoms once canon is over. :) But I'll tell you, new fandoms are intimidating. I bookmarked a whole bunch of comms and fics, but it's hard to tell where to start.

This is where the request comes in (besides the hug, that is):
Does anyone have any recs they'd like to share? Or know talented authors writing in the fandom?
At the moment, I have a paricular need for "fix everything bad that happened!" fic, or "everyone's somehow still alive!" AU. Basically, fic to make me feel better. :) Because as much as I *loved* this season, it just about tore out my heart and stomped on it.

That's right! It's Half Blood Prince review time!

2009-07-17T04:11:57Z

Now that I feel adequately recovered from sleep deprivation (next time I go to a midnight screening, remind me to take off from work), I'm ready to share my scattered film thoughts. Overall? I enjoyed it. I really did. The visuals were lovely, the funny parts were actually funny, and the acting was pretty decent all around. Granted, I tried to go into it with low expectations, but I'd definitely see it again! As for the rest of my thoughts, they can be broken up into three categories:

Spoilery ahoy!

What they did right
+ The visuals. Thank god we've moved away from the bad CGI monsters (with the exception of the inferi) and onto more sophisticated special effects. And the cinematography was especially lovely, and often quite clever. The scene of all the characters looking down from the Burrow stairwell comes to mind - I loved how that was framed!
+ The humor. This surprised me, to be honest. I expected most of the jokes to fall flat, but a lot of it was, dare I say, witty. And the physical humor was spot on. Kudos to Rupert for being genuinely funny without becoming a caricature.
+ Harry/Dumbledore. (No, not like that!) Right from the start, their relationship was one of the central themes of the movie, and I enjoyed how subtle and complicated it was. It's clear just how unconditionally Harry trusts Dumbledore, and how close Dumbledore comes to abusing that trust. I'm looking forward to seeing how this plays into movie(s) 7.
+Ron/Hermione. Wow, did my heart break for the poor girl every time she was on screen! I totally bought her feelings toward Ron, completely believed Ron's thickness, and could really see them getting together.
+Draco. This is saying something, because I'm not usually a huge Draco fan. But wow - what a difference it makes when they write him as a three-dimensional character, and not just Bad Guy #4. The moment he looses it in the bathroom was the only crying scene in a film of multiple crying scenes that *really* punched me in the gut.

What they did wrong
+ Added scenes. I'm not going to be one of those fans that complains about things left out, but I was baffled about some of the scenes that were included. I really didn't care about muggle London being terrorized; a newspaper headline would have been just fine. And I'm still trying to figure out the purpose of the Burrow burning to the ground. Was it so we could be introduced to Fenrir, who goes on to do...nothing?
+ The romance. Not the scenes themselves, just the amount. The film came dangerously close to thinking it was a romantic comedy first, adventure story second.
+ Ginny. Oh, Ginny. There's nothing to say that hasn't been said about the books, though. If only they had given her more than two lines in the past five films, Harry's sudden infatuation may have made some sense. And I hate how in any given scene it's either Ron and Hermione standing by Harry's side or Ginny, as though they have to take turns being his sidekicks. (Also, why was she getting all weepy over Dean Thomas?)
+Where's the suspense? You know it's Draco in the Room of Requirement with the Vanishing Cabinet from the very beginning. I liked the scenes well enough, but it takes all the fun out of Harry being the crazy-obsessed-stalker.
+Where's Snape? As one of two title characters, you would think he'd have more screen time. At least one little DADA class would have been nice, and I thought it was a particularly strange omission. To his credit, Alan Rickman stole every scene he was in.
+ The end. I thought the last scene had some of the most stilted dialogue of the whole film. Why not end with the funeral? Why wasn't Ron saying anything? Was Hermione's little speech supposed to be poignant or something?

What they did differently
I have to constantly remind myself that the movies are *not* the books.
+ Harry. This Harry is confident with the ladies, comfortable with popularity, and doesn't seem to bristle at being called "The Chosen One." I'm fine with that, even though I prefer my Harry on the insecure side.
+ The romance. As in, Harry and Hermione openly acknowledge that romance is happening. Definitely not canon, but not a problem.
+ Where's the battle? This actually didn't bother me like I thought it would. The cave scene and the death of Dumbledore were enough drama on their own.
+The Weasley twins' robes. They weren't magenta! This made me a little sadface inside.

But my absolute favorite part of the evening? Finally seeing the Where The Wild Things Are trailer on a big screen! My god, I can't wait until that comes out.

Some film-inspired fandom introspection

2009-07-14T23:47:10Z

Movie excitement is in the air. And yes, I'm quite excited about the movie, even though I'm trying to keep my expectations low. It's mostly a good excuse to hang out with friends and fans and relive the books, then leave the theater debating all the ways the director went wrong. :) In the spirit of things, I've added hbpchallenge and azkatrazathome to my flist, both of which look like a lot of fun.

And all of this is making me realize something. I'm a relative newbie to HP fandom; I started lurking here around two years ago. Since then, I feel like I've found a comfortable little niche for myself, and I think I even have a grasp on the vast, ever-changing fandom topography. But this new movie release is totally unchartered territory for me. The fact is that I've never been in HP fandom during the release of new material. Which seems really odd to me, but it's true - I came on board after the 7th book and 5th film. So I'm really excited for this new experience, of being part of fandom at large and watching it evolve as it aborbs something new. (Even though I know a lot of fans could care less about the movies. :) )

I guess the new film is making me introspective, lol. I'm off to eat dinner, then I'm on my way to the theater. :D

A smattering of Harry/Cedric art

2009-07-03T18:01:50Z

Last year, in a fit of generosity, I offered to make art for everyone on twoseekers who put in a prompt. A year later, and I've finally posted the last one! I also gave myself the added challenge of doing each piece in a different style. It was fun to break away from my usual way of doing things, and it was a good excuse to experiment a little.

I've posted some of the (IMO) better ones below the cut. But you can find the rest of them in my memories here. They're all rated somewhere from G to PG13.

Have This Dance, for peppermintjam

You Really Are Real, for Minisinoo

Courtyard Scandal, for artemisblack666

Perfectly Innocent, for lilies_n_lace

Two Vignettes of Two Seekers, for shaneworshipsu2

I seem to be all about the fanart lately. I even plan to draw a prompt at hp_femsmut in honor of International Day of Femmeslash, so we'll see how that goes. The writing bug will kick back in at some point, I'm sure, but for the moment it's all about the art. :)

Art: All Grown Up

2009-06-27T01:59:59Z

In honor of the upcoming movie with all the awful Matrix-y posters, I was inspired to do a little art making. :) I want to use it in my RL portfolio, too, so I actually put some effort into it. Haha. Enjoy!

Title: All Grown Up
Characters: The Trio, then and now
Medium: digital
Rating: as G as it gets
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and friends don't belong to me

LGTBQ Recs

2009-05-31T19:49:21Z

I signed up for a few slots over at LGBTQ Recs Month, which promises daily recs for the month of June. It looks like a great community, so if you're interested in non-fannish queer movies/books/tv/music/etc., go friend them! I'm still brainstorming what my suggestions will be. :)

Being Flabbergasted

2009-05-21T04:50:23Z

I've just been informed that one of my stories from last year's lgbtfest , Being Liquid, was nominated for the Hourglass Awards in the Best Gen Fic category. I'm not too familiar with these awards, or award sites in general, but I'm completely flattered nonetheless. And after glancing at some of the other amazing authors and fics that have been nominated, I think I've actually gone past flattered to flabbergasted. Haha.

At first I was a little confused as to why it was nominated in the Gen category since the story features a prominent, central relationship. But looking at the other options, I suppose it doesn't quite fall into het or slash, does it? I'm guessing that was the logic behind labeling it gen. Hey, works for me.

I don't really expect anything to come of this, which is totally fine. Being nominated is pretty damn exciting in itself. This is the first writing award I've been up for, and at the moment it's making me all warm and fuzzy inside, ha. Thank you so much to whoever took the time to put my name in!

Fic update: The Relative Truth and Terra Firma

2009-05-05T12:00:36Z

I just posted my story over at the lgbtfest. Go read what else the fest have to offer! There's always a lot of good stuff that comes out of it.

Title: The Relative Truth
Pairing/characters: Luna Lovegood/Neville Longbottom
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and friends belong to JKR, not me
Prompt: 742. Harry Potter, Luna/Neville, It's seventh year and Neville and Luna get to know each other intimately; Luna doesn't quite get why Neville's baffled by what's under her skirts. Luna is MTF.
Summary: Luna knows the truth about who she is and whom she loves, and that's what really matters in times of war.
Author's Notes: Thank you so much to my wonderful beta, killing_rose, and my also wonderful Britpicker, nagi_schwarz. And thanks to the mods for another lovely fest. ~12,000 words

( The Relative Truth @ lgbtfest )

...and here's a semi-lengthy Harry/Cedric I finished not too long ago for the twoseekers holiday exchange. Which tells you how long it took me to complete it. :)

Title: Terra Firma
Recipient:rosenskimmer
Pairing/Characters: Harry/Cedric, OFC
Rating: PG-13ish altogether
Warning: My new favorite type of AU, in which Cedric replaces the epilogue.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter & friends belong to JKR.
Prompt: More muggle world interaction, like a trip into London or something. Can wizards really live their whole lives without any sort of knowledge of the outside world?
Summary: Years after the war, the last place Harry expected to see Cedric was on a plane headed to Florence.
A/N: Thank you to the most excellent nagi_schwarz for the beta and the cursory britpick.

( Terra Firma @ twoseekers )

Fic: Head First and Eyes Closed

2009-02-20T02:05:55Z

Title: Head First and Eyes Closed
Pairing: Albus Severus/OMC
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and friends belong to JKR
Summary: Al would be terrified if this were actually a date.

A/N: This story is a sequel to The Dinner Table, which was written for last year's lgbtfest, and so it won't make an ounce of sense without reading that first. Eventually it will be part two of four in a larger series titled Into the Lion's Den and Out of the Closet.

None of this would exist without my betas and enablers killing_rose and nokiaangel. Thanks for the encouragement and the grammar, and for generally putting up with me!

The Dinner Table

Head First and Eyes Closed

“How did you get into Gryffindor again?”

Al scowled at Drew and jabbed the simmering concoction with his wand. Potions class was probably not the best time to be having this whispered discussion; Al lowered his voice even further. “The stupid hat was wrong. I’m transferring to Hufflepuff.”

Drew rolled his eyes. “Not that we wouldn’t love to have you, but I don’t think it’s going to get you out of your date.”

“It’s not a date.”

In fact, Al had spent the entire holiday convincing himself it wasn’t a date. It had not been easy. A stubborn part of him kept insisting on holding out hope, reminding him that, statistically speaking, it was at least possible for Kirk to like boys, but Al had worked hard to beat that optimism into submission.

He and Kirk would never be more than friends. The sooner he resigned himself to the idea, the better.

By the time he had once again boarded the Hogwarts Express, Al had not only managed to successfully convince himself that it wouldn’t be a date, but he’d even managed to believe that there wouldn’t be anything at all. Kirk was just being nice. Al had read too much into empty, polite words.

It didn’t help when he returned to school and the first thing Kirk said to him was, “Hey, you free Saturday?”

So they weren’t empty words after all. But that didn’t make it a date.

“Well if it’s not a date,” Drew said, chopping the last of the ingredients, “then what are you so worried about?”

Al made a show of throwing them into the cauldron angrily without making a mess. After all his hard work, Drew’s casual reminder that hope still existed was not helping matters, especially since his non-date was tomorrow. Al had only brought it up in the first place looking for some reassurance that it wasn’t too late to back out. “Remind me to stop coming to you for advice,” he said.

Drew ignored him. “I mean, if he is, then great. And if he’s not, who cares? Just find someone else.”

“But how am I supposed to know?”

“I don’t know. I thought gay people could tell these things.”

“Shut up, idiot!” Al hissed, glancing around the classroom.

Only that was the problem, wasn’t it? Just because Al liked blokes didn’t mean he knew anything about being gay. He didn’t know how he was supposed to act or look. He didn’t know what two guys did together on a date, or how to recognize a date in the first place, and he definitely didn’t know how to recognize whether someone else was gay. On the day he came out, no owl had swooped down to deliver a letter with instructions. Most days, Al didn’t even feel that gay.

He stirred the cauldron a few times distractedly. “What was it like when you found out you were a wizard?” he eventually asked.

Drew shrugged. “It wasn’t as shocking as you’d think. It just took a while to convince my parents it wasn’t some elaborate prank.”

“No, I mean when you found out you had to go live with wizards. Or when you came to school. What was that like? My dad says muggle life is really different, so was it hard to get used to…I don’t know, the rules and everything?” He wasn’t saying this right, and Drew waited while he sorted it out. “Did you feel like a wizard, or did you just feel like someone who does magic?”

“What do you mean? Why would I feel any different?”

Of course. Leave it to Drew to go through a life-changing self-realization without it changing a thing.

Drew gave him a scrutinizing look. “Does this have anything to do with your date?”

“It’s not a date.”

Drew shrugged and turned back to the instructions, leaving the question of whom, exactly, Al was trying to convince unasked.

**

The next day was frustratingly clear and sunny.

Al walked to the Quidditch pitch as slowly as possible, his panic steadily rising with each step. What he needed was a plan, a way to determine Kirk’s sexuality as quickly and surreptitiously as possible. But Al had never been the strategist. It was why he had stopped playing chess with James ages ago; he was tired of seeing the bloody remains of his chess pieces strewn across the board. And he was already certain that this would be just as violently disastrous.

He passed the locker rooms at the entrance of the pitch, his brain forming unsolicited images of post-date snogging in the showers. No, no, no – he couldn’t think about things like that. That scenario was so far off in the improbable distance that it wasn’t even worth considering.

First he had to find out if Kirk was gay. Then he had to find out if he was interested. Then, and only then, could he worry about things like snogging. One anxiety at a time, please.

With a final steeling of his nerves, Al crossed the threshold onto the turf.

At first he didn’t see Kirk and breathed a sigh of relief. He wondered if he could still go back to the castle and play sick, Gryffindor pride be damned. But Kirk suddenly appeared out of nowhere, swooping to the ground in front of him and scaring Al half to death.

“You made it.”

Al recovered quickly enough to nod, but he gave up any attempt at being suave. “You weren’t waiting long, were you?”

Kirk grinned. “For you, Al? My whole life,” he said with exaggerated sincerity.

Al blanched, nearly losing his composure all over again. The problem, he suddenly realized, was that Kirk was natural flirt. It was how he had convinced Al to join the team last year. It was also the same exact charm he used on all his teammates, and the opposing team members, and his professors for that matter. If Al was looking for a sign, he would find no shortage of them.

So much for having a strategy.

Clutching his broom tightly, he tried matching Kirk’s casual smile. “Very funny.”

“I try,” said Kirk with a shrug.

“So how was the weather up there?” Al asked. He was fairly certain that not talking about the weather was the number one rule of dating, but it was an honest question as far as flying was concerned. And no one said this was a date.

“Bloody freezing. But the wind’s not too bad, and you know how it is. Warms up once you get started.”

“Well that’s good. So, should we…uh…” He gestured to the sky. So eloquent.

“Sure. I’ll race you around the pitch!”

Kirk shot off the ground, and after a moment’s hesitation, Al followed suit. It didn’t take long for Al to catch up despite Kirk’s head start. This was partially due to Al’s smaller stature, but it also had to do with the state-of-the-art broom that his dad had insisted on buying him. His professional quality brooms were always a source of embarrassment for Al, especially around Kirk, who was still riding his old Nimbus X10.

But Kirk didn’t seem to care about the actual competition of their race, and Al gradually relaxed. This he could understand. Despite his aversion to organized sports, Al was good on a broom, and right now it was a relief to be in the air. He zoomed around Kirk, laughing, and feeling as though he’d left at least some of his insecurities below him.

All in all, it wasn’t an unpleasant afternoon. Flying helped Al regain some of his confidence, and flying with Kirk felt familiar. It was a well-practiced set of interactions: no awkward or potentially flirtatious chatting, no misreading of body language, nothing like that. Just two blokes messing around on brooms. Easy.

Even physical contact took on a different meaning off the ground. Al was no stranger to knocking opponents off their brooms or mid-air collisions, so when Kirk suddenly appeared alongside him, flying so close that their knees actually touched, Al shoved him playfully and refused to think anything of it.

He wished he could stay suspended in the sky forever, suspended in this moment with Kirk where he didn’t have to worry about the consequences.

Of course, immediately after making that wish, the sun began to set and it became far too cold to continue, even with all the physical exertion and layers of clothing. They both landed on the grass, breathing heavily. As soon as Al touched ground, it all came rushing back, the apprehension, the nerves, the uncertainty. To make things worse, Kirk began laughing, and Al had no idea why.

“Your – your hair!” he explained, grinning widely.

Al reached up in horror. A single lock seemed to be sticking straight into the air, and he smoothed it back into place as best he could. He may have inherited his dad’s unruly hair, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. “Maybe you should try looking in a mirror yourself,” said Al in defense.

Kirk ran his fingers through his own hair, ruffling it up further, and Al couldn’t help but laugh. “Is that better?” Kirk asked.

“Oh yeah, loads.”

That’s when Al saw his opening. He couldn’t stand the anticipation any longer, this testing the waters, this looking for signs. He would find out for sure, one way or the other. If Kirk was straight, too bad. If he was gay…well, Al would conjure that bridge when he came to it.

Taking a deep breath, Al said as casually as he could manage, “You’re just using the Quidditch look to attract the girls, aren’t you?”

Kirk looked down at him and smirked. “Of course, but don’t tell anyone.”

And there it was. Over before it began. Everything that afternoon took on a new, harsh light; Kirk was no longer the ambiguous flirt, but your typical straight bloke with an uncomfortable sense of humor. In the end, it didn’t matter how much Al had prepared himself for this moment. It still stung, the disappointment weighing him down like lead.

They continued talking and joking for a few minutes longer. Al still wanted him as a friend, but he wasn’t sure if that were healthy, or even possible. Maybe it would be possible if Kirk were someone other than Kirk, someone who wasn’t constantly smiling at him like that, or finding reasons to casually touch him. No matter how hard he tried, Al couldn’t turn off his attraction, and that just wasn’t fair to Kirk. When Al couldn’t take it anymore, he abruptly interrupted whatever it was Kirk was saying.

“It’s getting dark,” he said.

“I noticed,” Kirk replied.

“I should get going.”

“Oh. Okay.” Kirk frowned as Al picked up his broom.

“Er, I had fun. I’ll see you around.” Al waved awkwardly and turned toward the castle, leaving Kirk behind on the pitch.

It was the longest, most depressing walk of his life, but at least he had survived. And he’d not done anything mortifying like trying to kiss the poor bloke. Really, it could have been a hell of a lot worse.

Al sighed and shifted his broom from one shoulder to the other. Who knew? Maybe one day he’d look back on his first non-date and laugh.

**

“AL! What the hell did you do?”

James burst into the dormitory where Al was alone studying, and Al determinedly hid behind his book. He wasn’t interested in anything James had to say that started off with that.

“Sod off, James.” James ripped the book from his hands, nearly tearing a page in the process. “Oi! Watch it!”

James ignored him. “I was just talking with Kirk. He says you completely blew him off the other day. What’s wrong with you? Why do you have to act like such a little wanker?”

The blood rushed to Al’s face. It had been three days since that disaster of an evening, and he had been working very hard not to think of it, or the moment when he finally learned that he had been pining for nothing all along. The last thing he needed was to relive the moment with his complete tosser of a brother. He resisted the urge to reach out for his book; James would probably just levitate it over his head, and then permanently stick it to the ceiling.

“I didn’t blow him off, you arse. I left. It was getting dark out, so I left like any normal, straight bloke would’ve done. It’s none of your bloody business anyway.”

James scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I’m not sure who you’re trying fool here, you ponce.”

The frustration he had been trying to suppress began boiling under his skin. “I’m not trying to fool anyone! I’m just not wasting my time chasing after things I can’t have, alright?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about Kirk!” Al shouted in frustration. “I’m talking about stupid heterosexual Kirk who’d probably hit on anything with two legs, and I’m done with him! So just lay off!”

James stared at Al for a long time. Then he whacked him on the head with his own book. “Al, you fucking moron! Kirk is the biggest bloody poof I know!”

For a brief moment, his words floated in the air without meaning. Al blinked at James, who continued to stare at him as though he were mental. Then, suddenly and painfully, comprehension crashed over him, filling his gut with nausea and making it difficult to breath or speak. “What?” he managed to whisper.

“You didn’t even know that?” James threw up his hands in exasperation.

Now his breath was coming back, but it was fast and panicked. James was lying. James was a prat who liked to torture him for no apparent reason. Oh, fuck, it was worse – James knew all along, and now it was too late and Al had ruined everything. “Why didn’t you tell me, you prick?”

“I thought you knew! I mean, you were on the team for an entire year. And you never noticed anything?”

“What was I supposed to notice?”

James was now grinning at some private joke, and Al really hated his brother. “You’ve got to be kidding. Kirk can’t go ten minutes at practice without mentioning the stiff piece of wood between his legs. And didn’t you see when he started flirting with the Slytherin captain last year? It was brilliant. The guy was so freaked out they nearly forfeited the match! Hell, even Lily knows. She was asking me if you two were ‘boyfriends’ yet.” James rolled his eyes at the word.

Al groaned and covered his face with his hands. He wasn’t cut out to be gay. He wasn’t cut out to be anything other than lonely and miserable for the rest of his life.

James shook his head and sighed. “You’re a piece of work, you know that?”

“Well now what do I do?”

“Don’t look at me. You’re the one who screwed things up. If it helps, Kirk’s not pissed off or anything – he was just asking if you were angry with him.”

Al looked up apprehensively. “Great. And what did you tell him?”

“I said to talk to you. I’m staying out of your little drama.” James turned to leave, throwing the book back onto the bed.

“Wait, James.”

“What?”

Al paused, fearing the worse. “Did you tell him? About me?”

“Merlin, Al. I’m not going to do everything for you. Tell him yourself.”

James left, and Al crawled under his sheets to hide from his own humiliation.

**

It took an entire week before Al finally worked up the nerve to approach Kirk as he was leaving his dorm. At least, he had meant to simply approach him, but it turned into more of an ambush as he leapt from the shadows.

Kirk instinctively jumped back. “Merlin, Al, you scared the shit out of me!”

“Sorry.”

“Just warn me next time.” Kirk began to walk away.

“Wait, Kirk.”

“Did you want something?” His tone wasn’t exactly cruel, but it was a far cry from the warmth Al was accustomed to.

“Um, I was wondering…”

“Yes?” he cut in impatiently.

“Well, er, I have this – this Charms essay that I’m having trouble with. And…well, James said you’re really good with Charms. And I know you’re busy with N.E.W.T.s and all, but I – I was wondering if, um, maybe you could look it over with me sometime? That is, if you get a chance?”

Kirk eyed him with a slight frown and then shrugged. “Sure, why not. Tomorrow good?”

“Tomorrow’s great.”

“Fine. Meet me in the library after dinner.”

Kirk walked off without another word, and Al’s heart sank. He wasn’t sure if he had already damaged things beyond repair, or if Kirk had ever even fancied him in the first place, but Kirk’s tone made one thing seem certain: if he had been interested before, he no longer was. And now Al had to sit through a hell of his own making, another brand new opportunity to have his hopes dashed.

Maybe it wasn’t too late to back out?

**

Al didn’t back out and he didn’t even consult with Drew first. He was in Gryffindor and he should bloody well act like it. The next evening, Al made sure to arrive at the library early. Kirk finally showed up twenty minutes later.

Al smiled nervously as Kirk dropped into the seat next to him, but Kirk had his eyes on Al’s parchment, not his face.

“You already wrote it.”

Al picked up his quill and began absently scratching into the table. “Well, I sort of started it, but there were some things I wasn’t sure about.”

Kirk picked up the pages and rifled through them. “Like what? It looks pretty complete to me.”

This was a horrible idea, because Al really hadn’t needed the help. In fact, he had more or less finished the essay a few days ago. What was he thinking – that Kirk would arrive and the essay would be immediately abandoned in favor of passionate snogging? He wasn’t opposed to the idea, but he could see now that it wasn’t going to happen. There was no way to bridge the gap between reality and his overactive imagination, not when Kirk was sitting there with such indifference. The only thing left to do was to play dumb like some lovesick girl, and hope to save face while he bought himself more time.

Al picked a topic at random, and only half listened as Kirk explained it in a monotone. Kirk was all business, as formal and apathetic as he was usually friendly and engaged. When Al tried to joke around, Kirk merely smiled politely and went back to the essay. And every two minutes Kirk looked up at him and asked, “So…is that it?” and Al had to invent yet another thing he didn’t understand, all the while scribbling notes for things on which he already had extensive notes.

Maybe if Al were better at this being gay thing, it never would have come to this. Maybe there was a specific way of interacting that he’d not learned. Maybe he just wasn’t gay enough for Kirk to be able to tell. But what was he supposed to do, jump up on the table proclaiming his sexuality? Maybe – and this was such a terrible possibility that it had to be true – maybe Kirk did know. Maybe he knew all along and just wasn’t interested. Even though Al wasn’t aware of any other gay students at Hogwarts, he somehow had the impression that Kirk would have no shortage of blokes to choose from, and maybe Al wasn’t even on that list.

When Al ran out of questions to ask and Kirk got up to leave, he panicked. He couldn’t let this night be another disaster, not after the last time, but he was completely out of ideas. Al stood, making a show of gathering his parchment together, and avoiding eye contact.

“Thanks again for the help,” he said.

“Yeah, sure. Although I don’t know why you needed it. You seem to know what you’re doing.”

“Oh, well, it’s still good to have someone look over it, you know?”

Kirk shrugged. “I guess. Let me know how you do.”

“Kirk, wait.”

Kirk rubbed a hand over his face, this time making no effort to cover up his frustration. “What do you want, Al? It’s getting late.”

Al was taken aback by the sudden hostility, but he couldn’t think of any more excuses, and he didn’t have any more brilliant plans. So he grabbed the front of Kirk’s robes and leaned forward to kiss him.

Badly.

In fact, he wasn’t even sure it qualified as a kiss. It was more like dry lips being forced against dry, unwilling lips, not to mention a collision of noses. And before he could figure out how to make it better, Kirk gripped him by the shoulders and pushed him away.

He held Al at arm’s length and stared at him for a while. Al’s face was burning like the sun, his body nearly trembling with embarrassment, his hands clenching into fists in preparation for the fallout. That was when, alarmingly, Kirk burst out laughing.

“Bloody hell! You’ve been waiting all night to do that, haven’t you?”

It seemed pointless to deny it. “Maybe?”

“Why didn’t you say something earlier? You could have saved me the torture of revising that stupid essay. And why the hell did you run out on me last week?”

“I – I thought you were straight,” Al admitted quietly.

Kirk laughed even louder, and was immediately shushed by the librarian. “You thought I was straight?” he whispered. “You’re the one who’s a mystery. I thought you freaked out because I was hitting on you so bloody obviously.”

Al blinked up at him, too surprised for a moment to worry about anything else. “You were hitting on me?”

Kirk shook his head. “You’re something else, Potter.”

And before Al could wrap his head around this turn of events, Kirk yanked him back between the stacks and once again their mouths connected – only this time, in a way that made sense. Kirk came at him with a perfectly angled head and slightly parted lips, locking them with Al’s as though they were made to fit. Al practically shivered with excitement. Then, when Al felt something warm and wet against his lower lip, panic once again hit him with a brutal force.

He had no idea what he was doing.

Should he open his mouth? How would he know what to do with his tongue once he did? Would it require changing the position of his head? And what about his hands during all of this? One of Kirk’s calloused hands was wrapped around the back of Al’s neck, the other one threaded through his hair, and it felt bloody incredible. So did he copy his actions or go for variety? Really, was there anything he could do that wouldn’t make his inexperience incredibly, blindingly obvious?

As these thoughts raced through Al’s brain, the kiss seemed to slow, and Kirk’s hands gradually loosened their hold. Al realized, with a fresh wave of nausea, that he had already made the worst possible mistake: he had stopped reciprocating. He had been so concerned over doing the wrong thing, that now he wasn’t doing anything at all. Shite.

Al made a swift decision, then and there, a strategy he probably should have employed from the start: no more thinking.

He was done with thinking and worrying and overanalyzing. It only ever made things worse. There would be no more worrying about what he did or did not know about being with someone or being gay. He was in Gryffindor, and despite what his mates constantly told him, he belonged there. He could jump in head first and eyes closed with the best of them.

To prove this point, he closed his eyes, grabbed Kirk by the waist, and dove into Kirk’s mouth with his tongue. Whether or not that was acceptable, it sent currents down his spine. Nor would he let himself care that Kirk was probably far more experienced. All he cared about was the press of their mouths, the feel of their tongues sliding together, and the taste of Kirk’s breath, entirely unlike how he had imagined it.

It seemed only seconds before Kirk broke the kiss, looking thoroughly mussed and grinning widely. Al probably had a similarly stupid looking grin, but that, too, was ok.

Kirk brushed a stray lock from Al’s forehead, and one last concern made its way into Al thoughts.

So…what happens next?

But Kirk leaned down to brush their lips together one last time, and that thought vanished. If he was no longer permitted to think about the present, the future was definitely something Al could worry about later.

Undeserved, but I'll gloat anyway

2009-02-01T21:16:10Z

A silly five minute Keith Haring tribute won me a prize over at hp_fringeart.

Thanks to anyone who voted!

Quicklist

2008-02-19T05:30:28Z

Here you'll find a compiled masterlist of all my Harry Potter fic and art. If I write more, they'll be added to this post. Most recent at the top.

FIC
Long/Chaptered

Missing Pages (WIP)
Postwar Harry/Cedric suspense.

The Relative Truth
MtF!Luna/Neville. Written for the lgbtfest. ~12,000 words.

Into the Lion's Den and Out of the Closet (WIP)
Albus Severus-centric coming out story.

The Dinner Table Written for the lgbtfest. ~3,600 words.
Head First and Eyes Closed ~4,200 words.
Down the List
Return to the Table

Terra Firma
Postwar Harry/Cedric. For the holiday fic exchange at twoseekers. ~20,000 words.

Force of Will Series
Harry/Cedric AU. ADULT.

Force of Will Three parts. ~5,400 words.
Change of Heart Three parts. ~5,500 words.

One Shots

Extracurricular Matters
HBP film inspired Dumbledore ficlet. Written for hbpchallenge. ~500 words.

It Felt Like This
HBP film inspired Harry/Cedric ficlet. ~700 words.

Seeking Snorkacks
Luna gen ficlet. ~900 words.

Transformation
Cedric-centric, Twilight-inspired crack. ~1,300 words.

Public Approval
Fourth year Harry/Cedric ficlet. ~1,800 words.

Being Liquid
Genderqueer!Teddy/Lesbian!Victoire. ADULT. Written for the lgbtfest. ~7,500 words.

Sought And Found
Harry/Cedric PWP. ADULT. ~1,100 words.

The Boy Who Lived on Death
Harry gen. Post DH ficlet. ~1,000 words.

The Unexpected Tasks
Harry/Cedric humor. Valentine's Day challenge. ~5,300 words

ART

Sunday Mornings Are For
Hermione, Ron, and Harry.

Snowy Owl
Hedwig. With apologies to Charley Harper.

Grass Stains
Hermione/Ginny, NSFW.

All Grown Up
Trio.

Dumbledore's Cub or The Breakfast Army
The DA.

Moonlight Dance Party
The Marauders. With apologies to Keith Haring.

Harry/Cedric prompt series

FrednGeorge and Pensieve
For the hp_art_project

OTHER FANDOMS
Torchwood

Art for Holding To The Ground
For tw_bigbang