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kadollanI haven't actually finished anything with what you would call a plot... but here's one of my better starts at something. Please, please, please comment. I'm thinking/hoping that some feedback might kickstart my writing again.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, and I'm certainly not making anything from all this.
**
“Harry, old man!”
“Just the chap we were hoping to meet!”
The twins stormed into the room Harry was sharing with Ron at the Burrow, their red hair clashing violently with the Chudley Cannons orange decorating the room.
Harry looked up from his book, a feeling of impending doom hovering in the air. He had no idea what the twins might want with him, but he knew, given who he was dealing with, that it couldn’t possibly be good. Settling his face into what he hoped was polite interest; he looked up at them.
George (Fred? he wasn’t ever entirely sure) barreled on, unconcerned by Harry’s apparent lack of enthusiasm.
“Ah yes. Harry. Good to see you.”
“Great, yes. Been meaning to have a bit of a chat…”
Oh, this was definitely not good.
“A chat?” he asked.
“What? Yes, a chat. Wanting to talk.”
“Have a bit of brotherly advice to share.”
The way the two talked was almost like listening to one person coming out of two mouths. It was a bit unnerving. And speaking of unnerving… “Uh, advice, you say?” What could the infamous Fred and George want to give him advice about? How best to blow up the loo? The most effective means of turning one’s academic advisor purple?
“Advice, yes.”
"Since the closest you’ve got to a brother is that great prat Dursely…”
“Anyway, we’ve been thinking it was time someone had ‘THE TALK’ with you.”
Harry blinked. “Excuse me?”
The two looked at one another and shook their heads. “Sad.”
“I tell you. Here the lad is already, what? 16? And he doesn’t know about ‘THE TALK’”
Harry, his feeling of dread intensifying, was beginning to get an inkling of where this was going. Oh, erm… that talk. Well. I, uh, hardly think….”
“Oh, now Harry. Don’t be like that.”
“After all mate, as unlikely as it may seem now, one day there may be a girl that fancies you.”
Nodding wisely, the other, Harry was almost positive it was George, continued, “Yes, George.”
Or not.
“You’re absolutely right. Shocking as it may now seem, our ickle Harrie-kins is growing up, and might one day be a man.”
“Don’t you think that Ron is the one you should be having this conversation with?” Torn between horror, mortification and laughter, Harry stood up and began trying to push the two out of the room.
“Oh, never fear. We’ll be doing our brotherly duty for Ron later.”
“Miss Granger should be here later this week.”
“You two are evil. And bad. Now go away.”
“Go away. Right you are then.”
“I suppose he isn’t interested in hearing about our manly exploits”
“Or our sage advice.”
Harry snorted, and quickly tried to turn the sound into a cough.
“Or how to find the spyhole into the Ravenclaw girls’ locker room.”
“Obviously not. And you might want to see about that head cold.”
“Nasty things summer colds.”
“Yup, almost as nasty as having to explain one’s behavior to no less than six older brothers.”
Oh boy. Again with the not good. “Uh, beg pardon?”
“Ginny. Now, she’s a lovely girl isn’t she?”
“Ginny.”
“Yes, Ginny. She’s the pretty young woman that lives at this address. You’ll have met her.”
“Yes, I’ve met Ginny. Why are we talking about Ginny?” Harry was considering moving from mere, flimsy dread to full-fledged panic. “She’s… um, she’s a sweet kid.”
“Of course she is.”
“Yup, sweet as a Sugar Quill, our Gin. If you touch her, I’ll hex you into next Tuesday.” The last was said in such a friendly tone that Harry was almost sure he’d heard it wrong. Almost.
The twins grinned evilly at Harry. “Wouldn’t want her hurt.”
This entire “chat” was about to go on his Top Ten Most Surreal Conversations Ever list. For someone who had been known to talk to deranged house-elves and psychopathic drill salesmen that was no mean feat.
“Hurt? Ginny? Why would I hurt Ginny?”
“Right you are mate.”
“Of course you wouldn’t.” Harry was clapped on the shoulder in a friendly, if slightly bruising manner.
The twins bustled out of the room as loudly as they’d come in, leaving a very confused and slightly ill Harry behind them.
Ruddy hell. Now what was he supposed to do?
And what about ‘THE TALK’?
The twins were congratulating themselves as they walked down the hall, so engrossed in their own cleverness, not to mention the valiant way they’d just defended their baby sister’s honor, that they failed to notice that they were about to plow straight into the aforementioned sister.
“Ahem.”
George looked up, “Oh, hi Gin.”
Fred’s head jerked. “Oh, right. Yes. Gin. Lovely day?”
George peeked to see if their legendary charm was having its usual effect. Much to their mutual chagrin, it was. Ginny looked entirely unimpressed. Bloody charm.
Arms crossed, foot tapping, the petite redhead looked like a bomb ready to go off.
“Well, great chatting,” Fred winced at George’s choice of words, “but must be off. Work to do, you know.”
“What. Are. You. Two. Playing. At?” Ginny glared at the boys, reminding them rather eerily of their mother.
“Playing--?”
Ginny cut them off before Fred’s Look-how-innocent-I-am act could get fully underway. “Don’t. I’m not stupid. Unlike certain brothers, I could name. How DARE you two threaten Harry? Just where exactly do you two get off…let me rephrase that, as I don’t really want to know the answer to that particular question. What exactly gives you the right to interfere in my life? Do you hear me offering Angelina Johnson any friendly ADVICE? Hmmm? Or Katie Bell? I’m sure she’d love to hear about Mr. Pilkins…”
“Uh, now, Gin….” George paled at the mention of his childhood doll.
“We’re just worried about you, is all.” Fred interjected.
“Well, don’t be.” Ginny’s temper, legendary even amongst the Weasely’s, hadn’t cooled. “Absolutely NOTHING is going on with Harry. And, even if there were, it wouldn’t be any of your business! I could invite the entire Russian Cavalry to dance naked in my bedroom, and it wouldn’t be any concern of yours unless your name was Ivan and you happened to own a horse! Now sod off!”
Ginny stormed down the hall and into her room, slamming the door shut behind her.
Fred glanced at George.
“What was that?”
“Seemed a bit too vehement, don't you think?”
A third voice interrupted the twins’, “Ivan?” Ron walked the rest of the way up the stairs. “Who’s Ivan?”
“Ah! Ron! Just the bloke we were wanting to see!”
Throwing a companionable arm around Ron’s shoulders, George began steering him back down the stairs.
"I think its time we had a chat...."
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, and I'm certainly not making anything from all this.
**
“Harry, old man!”
“Just the chap we were hoping to meet!”
The twins stormed into the room Harry was sharing with Ron at the Burrow, their red hair clashing violently with the Chudley Cannons orange decorating the room.
Harry looked up from his book, a feeling of impending doom hovering in the air. He had no idea what the twins might want with him, but he knew, given who he was dealing with, that it couldn’t possibly be good. Settling his face into what he hoped was polite interest; he looked up at them.
George (Fred? he wasn’t ever entirely sure) barreled on, unconcerned by Harry’s apparent lack of enthusiasm.
“Ah yes. Harry. Good to see you.”
“Great, yes. Been meaning to have a bit of a chat…”
Oh, this was definitely not good.
“A chat?” he asked.
“What? Yes, a chat. Wanting to talk.”
“Have a bit of brotherly advice to share.”
The way the two talked was almost like listening to one person coming out of two mouths. It was a bit unnerving. And speaking of unnerving… “Uh, advice, you say?” What could the infamous Fred and George want to give him advice about? How best to blow up the loo? The most effective means of turning one’s academic advisor purple?
“Advice, yes.”
"Since the closest you’ve got to a brother is that great prat Dursely…”
“Anyway, we’ve been thinking it was time someone had ‘THE TALK’ with you.”
Harry blinked. “Excuse me?”
The two looked at one another and shook their heads. “Sad.”
“I tell you. Here the lad is already, what? 16? And he doesn’t know about ‘THE TALK’”
Harry, his feeling of dread intensifying, was beginning to get an inkling of where this was going. Oh, erm… that talk. Well. I, uh, hardly think….”
“Oh, now Harry. Don’t be like that.”
“After all mate, as unlikely as it may seem now, one day there may be a girl that fancies you.”
Nodding wisely, the other, Harry was almost positive it was George, continued, “Yes, George.”
Or not.
“You’re absolutely right. Shocking as it may now seem, our ickle Harrie-kins is growing up, and might one day be a man.”
“Don’t you think that Ron is the one you should be having this conversation with?” Torn between horror, mortification and laughter, Harry stood up and began trying to push the two out of the room.
“Oh, never fear. We’ll be doing our brotherly duty for Ron later.”
“Miss Granger should be here later this week.”
“You two are evil. And bad. Now go away.”
“Go away. Right you are then.”
“I suppose he isn’t interested in hearing about our manly exploits”
“Or our sage advice.”
Harry snorted, and quickly tried to turn the sound into a cough.
“Or how to find the spyhole into the Ravenclaw girls’ locker room.”
“Obviously not. And you might want to see about that head cold.”
“Nasty things summer colds.”
“Yup, almost as nasty as having to explain one’s behavior to no less than six older brothers.”
Oh boy. Again with the not good. “Uh, beg pardon?”
“Ginny. Now, she’s a lovely girl isn’t she?”
“Ginny.”
“Yes, Ginny. She’s the pretty young woman that lives at this address. You’ll have met her.”
“Yes, I’ve met Ginny. Why are we talking about Ginny?” Harry was considering moving from mere, flimsy dread to full-fledged panic. “She’s… um, she’s a sweet kid.”
“Of course she is.”
“Yup, sweet as a Sugar Quill, our Gin. If you touch her, I’ll hex you into next Tuesday.” The last was said in such a friendly tone that Harry was almost sure he’d heard it wrong. Almost.
The twins grinned evilly at Harry. “Wouldn’t want her hurt.”
This entire “chat” was about to go on his Top Ten Most Surreal Conversations Ever list. For someone who had been known to talk to deranged house-elves and psychopathic drill salesmen that was no mean feat.
“Hurt? Ginny? Why would I hurt Ginny?”
“Right you are mate.”
“Of course you wouldn’t.” Harry was clapped on the shoulder in a friendly, if slightly bruising manner.
The twins bustled out of the room as loudly as they’d come in, leaving a very confused and slightly ill Harry behind them.
Ruddy hell. Now what was he supposed to do?
And what about ‘THE TALK’?
The twins were congratulating themselves as they walked down the hall, so engrossed in their own cleverness, not to mention the valiant way they’d just defended their baby sister’s honor, that they failed to notice that they were about to plow straight into the aforementioned sister.
“Ahem.”
George looked up, “Oh, hi Gin.”
Fred’s head jerked. “Oh, right. Yes. Gin. Lovely day?”
George peeked to see if their legendary charm was having its usual effect. Much to their mutual chagrin, it was. Ginny looked entirely unimpressed. Bloody charm.
Arms crossed, foot tapping, the petite redhead looked like a bomb ready to go off.
“Well, great chatting,” Fred winced at George’s choice of words, “but must be off. Work to do, you know.”
“What. Are. You. Two. Playing. At?” Ginny glared at the boys, reminding them rather eerily of their mother.
“Playing--?”
Ginny cut them off before Fred’s Look-how-innocent-I-am act could get fully underway. “Don’t. I’m not stupid. Unlike certain brothers, I could name. How DARE you two threaten Harry? Just where exactly do you two get off…let me rephrase that, as I don’t really want to know the answer to that particular question. What exactly gives you the right to interfere in my life? Do you hear me offering Angelina Johnson any friendly ADVICE? Hmmm? Or Katie Bell? I’m sure she’d love to hear about Mr. Pilkins…”
“Uh, now, Gin….” George paled at the mention of his childhood doll.
“We’re just worried about you, is all.” Fred interjected.
“Well, don’t be.” Ginny’s temper, legendary even amongst the Weasely’s, hadn’t cooled. “Absolutely NOTHING is going on with Harry. And, even if there were, it wouldn’t be any of your business! I could invite the entire Russian Cavalry to dance naked in my bedroom, and it wouldn’t be any concern of yours unless your name was Ivan and you happened to own a horse! Now sod off!”
Ginny stormed down the hall and into her room, slamming the door shut behind her.
Fred glanced at George.
“What was that?”
“Seemed a bit too vehement, don't you think?”
A third voice interrupted the twins’, “Ivan?” Ron walked the rest of the way up the stairs. “Who’s Ivan?”
“Ah! Ron! Just the bloke we were wanting to see!”
Throwing a companionable arm around Ron’s shoulders, George began steering him back down the stairs.
"I think its time we had a chat...."
