Unwitting
Disclaimer: I am not J. K. Rowling, so it follows that none of the characters, themes or ideas from Harry Potter belong to me.
"Looking back upon the events of the past, it is those random, apparently insignificant instances in time that quietly shape our future, our actions… whilst we move through them, unwitting." AU. Pairing not explicitly mentioned (at least initially), though I wrote it with a specific pairing in mind :)
A/N: The second instalment (the tone isn't very directional yet, you'll note :P) This is my first ever fic, so if you could drop a review, I'd really, really appreciate it! Constructive criticism is well loved :)
O O O O O
Outside, she breathes the fresh, cool air deeply, spreading her arms to spin in her habitual, childish way. It's almost a ritual of hers, and onlookers pause to smile indulgently or stare alternatively in mild awe or disapproval at the picture of wilful abandon she makes.
Her red hair streams around her and her eyes close in contentment as the rain begins to fall upon her upturned face.
O O O O O
The spinning girl stops abruptly, frowning as she feels an odd sense of dryness about her, incongruous with the storming rain. She glances around confusedly, taking in the students that scurry past, a veritable sea of bouncing monochrome umbrellas and muttered water-repellent charms… a favoured spell of her friend's. She fixes a reproachful glare upon the offender, an eyebrow cocked, arms folded in a pose of overstated annoyance. Her friend shrugs playfully back at her, waving the abandoned schoolbag, and pointing ostentatiously at the face of her wristwatch. The girl sighs in mock-defeat, sneakily directing a jet of water at her friend's turned back, and closing her eyes in silent laughter as she hears the indignant scream that confirms her target. Satisfied, she marches towards the castle's shelter, taking care to jump in every pool of water she passes.
"You're crazy, you are!" calls her friend, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth as she wrings out her own damp hair and thrusts the satchel into the approaching girl's arms.
The girl in question unconcernedly flicks water into her friend's face, who is about to respond in kind when the boy, who has been watching their extended exchange with silent amusement, chooses to speak. Acknowledging the girl with a cursory greeting, he turns to her friend.
"Long time, no see…"
"You too, stranger!" she replies, smiling, and they engage in lively conversation.
A mild wave of irritation sweeps over the girl as she contemplates the prospect of playing gooseberry during their long walk ahead to the Gryffindor Common Room. Invariably, she begins to plot her route of escape. They continue to move along the cobble-stoned passages of the castle, and she shivers from the drafts of cool wind that rush inside where the heating charms are wearing away. She slows her pace, hoping to lose them, and just as she judges her attempt a success, the boy turns to look at her. She looks heavenward in defeat, while he turns back to his companion.
"So what was I talking about?"
His voice echoes off the walls, magnified after the momentary silence, and the girl is left to contemplate the merits of that merciful state as she feels a head-cold coming on. Her irritation builds, and the conversation is redirected by the boy to the new, immensely popular Hogsmeade enterprise, MuggleMania Movies. He begins to enthuse over a recent picture release.
"The one with those silver metal rod things…", he starts, gesturing exuberantly.
Her friend giggles appreciatively, and the girl groans slightly from behind. Here we go.
"That was an awesome one!" he continues.
Later, she would blame it on her dampened state and the irksome calibre of his voice, but at this point, the girl is driven to speak.
"It was stupid." she says, with an air of finality.
Her pitch is a note higher, and her cheeks tinge pink at her outburst. But that could easily have been the cold, of course. He turns to stare at her, mildly surprised.
"It was. Stupid, that is…" she continues, her voice trailing off as she turns away to glance at a large portrait plaqued Barnabus the Barmy.
She gazes interestedly at Barnabus, who is apparently engaged in an evening nap, neon-orange spotted nightcap perched precariously on his head… greyed fringe rising and falling with each baritone snore, a drivel of saliva escaping the corner of his mouth. Well.
"Whoa…" says the boy loosely, leaning back slightly and running a hand through his hair. "She doesn't know what she's talking about."
The girl, who is currently occupied in smiling a greeting to Penelope the Peaceful (who placidly nods back), however, has apparently satiated her urge to speak, and doesn't take the bait. They've reached the Fat Lady, and he's tapped on the shoulder by a saccharinely sweet female acquaintance of his, whom the girl is particularly averse to.
"Flobberworm", the girl intones loudly, savouring the uncomfortable yelp that issues unwittingly from the boy, who secretly fears the species.
The girl and her friend silently enter the Common Room's cheery warmth, the former glancing back just as the portrait swings shut, feeling a mixture of annoyance and normalcy as she meets a pair of hazel eyes, just as she had subconsciously expected to.
O O O O O
If you would be so kind, I'd love to hear what you think :)
-->