Wednesday, November 10, 2010

TEMPORARY POST

Posted this for a friend... I don't know how to delete it! Sorry.
Just skip it. It's a little excerpt of my unfinished Ron/Theo fan fiction.
YES. Slash. The best kind of stuff I write, lol.

In the chill of pre-dawn stupor, the young man opened his opalescent eyes. He glanced hesitantly around the bed-chamber, wary of the position of his fellow Gryffindors.
Beside him, he felt warmth. His nimble fingertips brushed across his companion's cheek, his eyes adjusting slowly to the darkness of the room.

He felt the form stir beneath his movements, and he carefully leaned forward to brush his lips off the boy's earlobe.

"Theodore," he whispered. "Its time for you to return to your quarters. The others will wake soon, and I'm not certain that they'd take too kindly to the sight of a Slytherin in our bed-chamber."

A rare grin illuminated the boy's features as he imagined the sight of the Gryffindors awakening to the sight of him curled up next to -Weasley-. The fits they'd throw!- especially Potter.

"Mmmm.. Alright, Ronald. I'll see you at breakfast." He nuzzled gently into his neck before rising without a sound, and slipping out the door.

Ensuring that Theodore was out of sight, Ron let out a loud, exasperated sigh. What a night! He thought to himself, his mind reeling over the events of the previous evening..


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Theodore paced through the aisles of the Restricted Section, his mind on idle as he scanned the pages of a history book. Ah, the library. He adored everything about it.

The rich, decadent scent of the well-aged novels registered in his nostrils as he inhaled deeply, a little smile pulling up the corners of his lips.

In truth, this was the only place at Hogwarts where Theodore found himself relaxed. This meant that he was usually alone (his classmates only came to the library when it was absolutely necessary) but he didn't mind. In fact, it was quite the contrary. He enjoyed solitude. It allowed him to think freely without being interrupted.

A bustling noise caught his attention as he turned a corner into the next aisle, and as he raised his head, his eyes came in contact with the flustered form of Ronald Weasley.

Theodore smirked as he watched Weasley fumble with the voracious amount of books he was handling, stumbling around for an empty seat. Feeling a tad sorry for the bloke, Theodore approached him, his eyes light; his tone taunting.

"Need a hand there, Weasley? Or twenty?"

Ron raised his head warily, expecting Malfoy to be there with his cronies. Instead, he found the lanky form of Theodore Nott.

It had been a while since Ron had taken notice of the lad- he was often reserved and nearly always sat in the back of class. He rarely spoke to anyone, and when the occasion presented itself, he was always indifferent.

He had blossomed over the years. An elegant curve shaped his lips as he smirked, and Ron couldn't help but notice the rosy color of them. There was a faint trace of muscles beneath his loosely flowing robes, and his height outgrew Ron's by a few inches.

"Weasley? What the bloody hell are you staring at? Would you like help with those books or not?" Theodore muttered, annoyance colouring his voice.

"Um- yes. Sure. Thanks." Ron said, tripping over his words. What was wrong with him today?

Theodore stepped forward, placing his own book on the table beside them, and relieved Ron of a couple books. He nodded to Ron, his eyes cold, and said a quiet, "follow me."

Two things caught the attention of dumbfounded Ron as Theodore closed more of the distance between them.

His senses caught Theodore's enticing aroma; the scent of cigarettes and a faint trace of the outdoors. It was intoxicating. As Theodore marched off, commanding for him to follow, Ron's eyes unwillingly became fixated on the perfectly taut muscles of his arse.

Ron felt mildly alarmed as he realized that he was checking out another bloke. But, he couldn't help himself. He always liked and desired for things he could never possess. The problem was that those things usually included galleons and brooksticks- not men.

Theodore led Ron to a desterted corner of the Library. This section included books on dark magic, so it was often avoided by students. You'd be questioned if a teacher caught you browsing through these novels.

"Lay them here, Weasley." He snorted, as Ron hastily laid them on the oak table.

"Erm.. Thanks for that, Nott." Ron muttered, his eyes falling to the floor in embarrassment.

"Whatever... So, what are you researching, Weasley? Surely you aren't here -just- to read. That would involve you being able to comprehend a novel." Theodore quirked a brow, genuinely interested.

"Well.. Professor Binns has insisted that I write up a paper on Goblin Wars- to get my grades up to a passing level. McGonagall is forcing me to find twelve new spells of transfiguration that we haven't already learned in class. And, Snape has got me writing up THREE essays on the Wolfsbane Potion. He said that perhaps if I write three, he may be able to find something he can actually grade in one of them." Ron heaved a sigh, pulling a notebook from his knapsack.

Theodore felt a small tinge of pity for the boy. He was obviously very poor- everything he owned looked second-hand. He clearly lacked knowledge in three of the most important subjects- if not all. Everyone spoke about the Weasleys behind their backs, too. Blood Traitors. Poor. Gingers. The list went on.

He furrowed his brow in concentration as he tried to figure out the complexities of the book before him. Gazing at the title of the book, he automatically recognized as something he'd read two year priors. Feeling generous, Theodore took a seat next to Ron, their bodies nearly touching from the proximity.

"What you've got to remember about the Wolfsbane Potion is that it is very potent. Too little or too much can destroy the balance of the immune system of one's body. It is vital that the drinker consumes the potion at exactly the right hour, and that it is brewed exactly to the specifications of the written instructions."

Ron glanced up from his novel, his eyes wide. "How do you know so much about that, Theo- Nott? I mean, we've only just started learning about the Wolfsbane Potion."

Theodore chuckled. "Well, some of us -actually- pay attention in class. And, there are the scattered few, including myself, that like to read ahead."

"Read ahead? Merlin, it's bad enough having to read everything once... What's your favourite subject?" Ron glanced up, his blue eyes radiating kindness.

As Theodore gazed into Ron's sea-blue eyes, he felt his cheeks warm with colour. He wasn't used to someone casting him a smile. "Um, I'd have to say my favourite is probably Defense. It's really interesting." Theodore returned the smile subtly, but it didn't reach his eyes. He wasn't used to smiling, especially at other people. "Yourself?"

Ron grinned. "Definitely History of Magic. It's the easiest class to nap in."

Then they were both laughing, the mellow sound filling the library. Theodore was rather surprised with himself. He was actually enjoying Weasley's company.

"Now. How am I supposed to finish four essays over the next three days? Not to mention find twelve brand new transfiguration spells, and their effects." Ron's moment of happiness dissipated.

"You're going to have a little help, Weasley. From me."

Friday, November 5, 2010

Facebook isn't private enough for this..

Just a little excerpt of my feelings.
No names will be mentioned.


Wow.
I can't even fucking believe you'd say that to me. I know that we haven't been as close anymore, and it saddens me.
You have your life, I have mine. It's as simple as that.

With nothing in common, a completely different set of morals, and the fact that we rarely see each other was obviously set to take its toll.
That doesn't mean I dislike you. It doesn't mean I don't want to be your friend. It just means that we're not that close.

That happens frequently with friends. Our lives head in different directions, and we change.

And I. I have changed a lot since you first met me.

I am different now. I can't be someone else for you. I can't pretend I don't hate mainstream. I can't pretend to be ordinary. And I certainly cannot pretend that I agree with what you say.
I'm sorry.

I always predicted this would happen.
With two souls, so completely different, how could we stay on the same page?
It just couldn't work.

And your mind is under the influence of another. You have YOUR OWN brain. Why don't you try using it for once?
I bet you were perfectly fine before ideas were planted into your head. That's always the way it is.

I've tried so hard to keep silent. Bite my tongue. Chant to myself, "keep it in your head..."

But I can't do it. I can't..

You thought I did something wrong. I apologized.
You chose not to accept it, so I can't be held accountable for that.

I trusted you.

I cared about you.

I wanted us to be friends.... forever.

But, forever is just a myth, isn't it?

Or, it's really like a sunset. Painters try to capture its magnificence everyday.... But it is gone far before they have the chance to complete it.

I've extended the invitation. If you choose to decline, that's your choice. But I know that at the end of the day, I didn't turn you away. So you've nothing to hold against me.

Life is hard enough without losing a friend.
I really didn't want it to end this way.
I don't hate you. I never have.