semperfiona (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
semperfiona) wrote2012-10-11 11:21 am
semperfiona) wrote2012-10-11 11:21 am
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What happens when I binge on Harry/Draco fanfic and then Tammie wants to talk about Diarmuid of Fionavar before bed: I lie awake all night with this scene coming together and have to write it down. Maybe eventually the rest of the story that gets to this point will come along as well, but for now, here's the most fiction (of any sort, original or otherwise) that I have managed to write in years.
It's completely SFW, by the way.
Really Potter? White robes? Feathered hat? He steps away from the Weasel and Granger and doffs his hat to my mother and smoothly moves into a deep bow, the scarlet feather skimming the ground and the creamy robes swirling out. Those robes do go well with your hair...which is smoother than I’ve ever seen it and brushed back off his forehead. He never ever lets that scar be seen in public, like he’s trying to hide who he is. Not today, not here in the middle of Diagon Alley where the scurrying families laden with school shopping have all stopped to watch. Odd.
Weasley’s face turns red and he starts to sputter something, but gets no farther than “Ha-“ before the sound of his voice disappears even though his face gets redder and redder and his lips continue moving. Finally he notices that no one can hear and snaps his mouth closed and rounds on Granger, who merely puts away her wand and elbows him in the side until he stands still.
"Madam Malfoy, I come to you before these witnesses, on behalf of a bold wizard of renown and accomplishment, to tell you that the sun rises in your son's eyes." Harry's speech is clear and strong but his ears are redder than the feather in his hat, and now I know why I have been feeling pins and needles all over my body since the moment he appeared in those robes, and what he’s been doing when I’ve caught him talking and bowing to himself in mirrors for the last two weeks.
Mother replies, "Tell me more of this wizard."
Harry laughs then, that self-deprecating laugh that has entangled me worse than any Devil's Snare, and goes on in his usual voice, looking at the ground. "It's really more like impetuous and foolhardy, notoriety that will never let me escape the Daily Prophet, and the best known accomplishments are not mine to claim but belong to many." A long moment while he is clearly thinking about his lost friends. He shakes himself free of it and plunges on. "I’m fair decent at charms and defence, and hopeless at potions. Myself. I speak for myself," here a side-eyed glare at the Silencio-ed Weasley, "as none of my friends would speak for me,” and then he looks up and meets my mother’s eyes, which betray nothing, and returns to the ritual cadenced speech he’d started with. “But my sun doth rise in Draco's eyes. Madam Malfoy, have I your permission to court your son?"
Mother’s eyes are still inscrutable as she looks to me. I am as speechless as the Weasel but my heart has never been so light and I know my eyes are shining as I nod to her.
It's completely SFW, by the way.
Intercedent
Really Potter? White robes? Feathered hat? He steps away from the Weasel and Granger and doffs his hat to my mother and smoothly moves into a deep bow, the scarlet feather skimming the ground and the creamy robes swirling out. Those robes do go well with your hair...which is smoother than I’ve ever seen it and brushed back off his forehead. He never ever lets that scar be seen in public, like he’s trying to hide who he is. Not today, not here in the middle of Diagon Alley where the scurrying families laden with school shopping have all stopped to watch. Odd.
Weasley’s face turns red and he starts to sputter something, but gets no farther than “Ha-“ before the sound of his voice disappears even though his face gets redder and redder and his lips continue moving. Finally he notices that no one can hear and snaps his mouth closed and rounds on Granger, who merely puts away her wand and elbows him in the side until he stands still.
"Madam Malfoy, I come to you before these witnesses, on behalf of a bold wizard of renown and accomplishment, to tell you that the sun rises in your son's eyes." Harry's speech is clear and strong but his ears are redder than the feather in his hat, and now I know why I have been feeling pins and needles all over my body since the moment he appeared in those robes, and what he’s been doing when I’ve caught him talking and bowing to himself in mirrors for the last two weeks.
Mother replies, "Tell me more of this wizard."
Harry laughs then, that self-deprecating laugh that has entangled me worse than any Devil's Snare, and goes on in his usual voice, looking at the ground. "It's really more like impetuous and foolhardy, notoriety that will never let me escape the Daily Prophet, and the best known accomplishments are not mine to claim but belong to many." A long moment while he is clearly thinking about his lost friends. He shakes himself free of it and plunges on. "I’m fair decent at charms and defence, and hopeless at potions. Myself. I speak for myself," here a side-eyed glare at the Silencio-ed Weasley, "as none of my friends would speak for me,” and then he looks up and meets my mother’s eyes, which betray nothing, and returns to the ritual cadenced speech he’d started with. “But my sun doth rise in Draco's eyes. Madam Malfoy, have I your permission to court your son?"
Mother’s eyes are still inscrutable as she looks to me. I am as speechless as the Weasel but my heart has never been so light and I know my eyes are shining as I nod to her.
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after spending 40 minutes swimming laps today (not much else to do in the water but think) I've got some notion of the preceding couple of scenes but I don't know how to get to them, yet. Might come to me once the ones I know are written down.
I'm hoping an actual plot will develop along with the schmoop but that remains to be seen.