Also cleaned out this livejournal of excess and essentially useless Second Servings material now that Leila and I have the community up. From now on that's where our mutual-blackmailing efforts are concentrated.
But in fanfiction news, I've posted a one-shot I wrote the other day, Today, onto fanfiction.net. It's a short little Golden Trio thing, focuses on the war in relation to their friendship, I suppose. LJ cut is also below.
I'm really wondering if I should just post all my work on this journal, though, because ff.net is going downhill, really, and restricts all sorts of formatting after they remodeled, which is, to euphemize, not boding well with me. (WHAT KIND OF PEOPLE DON'T LET YOU INSERT A BLOODY ENTER AFTER YOUR TITLE?!)
Yes, yes. So I'd love it if you guys could tell me whether you'd prefer me to keep on posting on fanfiction.net, or onto this livejournal. If livejournal gets more votes, then everything will be set up pretty much as fanfiction.net will, really: reviews will be the same as "comments", I'll have links so you can go back and forth between chapters, and there'll be an archive of all chapters. The differences, however, are that news and updates will be easier to find (a good difference, I'd think), alerts will be via email, and that I'll be able to reply to each of your reviews directly (instead of in hideous-looking author notes at the end of chapters), and I'll be able to use spiffy little icons for entries. (YESS!) You don't need an LJ account to comment on livejournals, so it's really workable, I think. :)
Right, but don't let my bias sway you.
And Everything I Know is still in the works. Yep.
TODAY / a one-shot by one crimson tie
An opened chocolate frog box lies on the floor besides the garbage bin, camouflaged by the looming grey shadow of the trash can, but only somewhat. Someone will still see it, and another someone has missed the bin again.
It never takes Hermione Granger too long to discover such Ronald-Weasley-wrought blemishes in her living room, and so it is really only a matter of time before Hermione will shove the discarded sweets box into Ron’s face, demanding to know why she has yet to see a chocolate frog box make it into her rubbish bin.
The redhead always replies with the same reasoning: because being a Keeper never required a good throwing arm, or good aim. His defense placates Hermione little, and the argument often carries on for several minutes, while Harry Potter will sit spectator to this familiar quarrel, occupying himself with trivia and idle thoughts so as to maintain a straight face throughout the row. Meanwhile, Crookshanks will skulk off to another area of the apartment, crabbily searching for another place to sleep.
And it will be another day for the trio.
Since graduation, Hermione’s small apartment on 19 Belby Lane (named after Flavius Belby, the first wizard to ever survive a Lethifold attack; a historical tidbit that helped Hermione remember her new address immediately, and one that didn’t make its way into the boys’ heads at all) has become a regular stop for Harry and Ron. It isn’t far from where either of the boys live (although this has never stopped them from sleeping over) and is the tidiest of the three apartments (the reason why they sleep over).
Hermione’s flat, Ron once commented, also has an absolutely brilliant location. Besides sitting between Harry’s flat, and the place Ron shares with his brothers, the flat overlooks a bookstore and other shops.
Ron had also repeated that last fact several times, stopping finally when Hermione had rolled her eyes and told him that she’d gotten the hint, and told them they could leave to see the broom shop down the lane if they wanted. Ron had beamed, crowning her with the compliment that she always had the best advice. Harry had just snorted and shoved Ron out the door, promising Hermione that they’d be back in time to help with dinner.
The thought of them making dinner never fails to make Molly Weasley’s brows knit, especially after that one disastrous evening where they tried making Italian and Ron got hit by a cauldron. Tonight will mark another joint-cooking attempt—but this time with Harry at the stove, and Ron away from it. For safety, Hermione insisted after that one night.
However the three are still amateurish when it comes to cooking, even with Harry’s gastronomical know-how after years on Privet Lane, Hermione’s meticulousness with procedures and measurements, and Ron’s prompt notifications of when something is bloody-hell-Harry!-burning. They’ve yet to rid their food of the faint, bitter taste of Harry’s slight carelessness, even with Ron’s careful nose, or clear the air of the lingering smoke or Hermione’s exasperated reprimands. But they don’t mind, they like this cooking together, for it gives them a sense of normalcy. And it helps them forget the war.
The war is over. The Great War, the Order of the Phoenix’s war, Harry’s war, their war, and the last war; hopefully. No one expected the prophecy to be fulfilled so soon, just two years after its rediscovery, but Lord Voldemort is dead, along with many others. The final Order of the Phoenix photograph that sits somewhere in each member’s house has far too many empty spaces in it. Too much of 12 Grimmauld Place can be seen; it’s more a picture of the house’s parlor than people. But the gaps in the line are the spaces the members refused to fill up, even with the infuriated photographer’s warning that if they didn’t “shove together, now” the picture would like it was full of holes. Sturgis Podmore just told his brother to belt up and take the photograph, holes and all.
Barnard Podmore had grumbled while setting the flash, never really understanding that the members didn’t like their empty spaces either. There wasn’t anyone who didn’t hate that the Black family chandelier in the background could be seen now that Kingsley Shacklebolt’s massive, grinning figure wasn’t there to block it up like previous years. There wasn’t anyone who didn’t miss that Harry was looking at the space between him and Remus rather than at the camera, or the absence of other regular reassurances, like Hestia Jones’s quiet smile, or Dedalus Diggle’s loud violet top hat. However the space between Charlie and Fred Weasley was one created on the day of the picture, marking where Percy should be adding to the row of redheaded brothers. Percy came back to them, in the end. Weasleys stuck together, and he had come. But he’d been gone just as quickly.
Nobody in the Order liked their empty spaces, but they left them as they were, as the Order of the Phoenix’s final tribute to all those who were supposed to be there, with them.
So it’s things like their culinary escapades that help them with their empty spaces, the loss that came with the victory, and with the end of their great war. Things like watching Harry get mad when Ron purposely asks him how the noodles are looking whenever the redhead sees that Harry’s glasses are completely fogged up. Or things like observing Hermione try to use Arithmancy to divide stalks of celery into sections before cutting them with a knife. Or like seeing Ron get hit by a cauldron.
It almost makes up for the nightmares that come on nights; the ones that convince Harry that his scar is hurting even though it never will again; the ones that fool Ron’s sleeping mind with what ifs and still-alive brothers; the ones that leave Hermione sitting at her brightly lit kitchen counter, staring at nothing for hours on end as her tea grows cold, and her book unread. They all have nightmares now, nightmares tangled with memories of screamed curses and yelled enchantments and green lights and masked figures and fleets of wild-eyed thestrals, which they can all see now.
But it’s things like their catastrophic cooking attempts, and things like the chocolate frog box that sits by the garbage bin that make waking into mornings easier, and the days better. Because then it means that Ronald Weasley has missed the bin again. It means Hermione Granger will soon be yelling, and Harry Potter hiding a grin. It means that they are still there after all their nightmares, and that they are still together.
It means that that today will be another day for the trio. And that means everything.