Oh gods. This is so difficult. Why is this so difficult? Because I suck, that’s why. Still… here’s an attempt that didn’t turn into a short story without my permission. (Except I think it’s threatening it…)
The tree’s thick bark scraped against his skin through the thin shirt. Goddamnit, if he’d known this was likely to happen he’d have worn his bike jacket, kept on his leathers, something rather than end up in the middle of this useless excuse for a copse someone thought it was a wonderful idea to plant on government grounds and praying he didn’t get spotted while wearing the most uncomfortable suit known to either man or alfa. To his left, the faintest creak, then snap, of a fallen twig had him hugging the tree closer and wondering just where the hell Alex was. Not making a sound, for a start: anyone who could walk through things like they just didn’t matter wouldn’t be standing on every available twig going — and there went another one. No, that wasn’t Alex. That was the person who thought the main office full of weird and scary people like Alex and, he grudgingly admitted, himself, was the perfect place to attack.
That they were clearly stupid was by the by.
And, as promised (poor you! :p ), here’s the opening to the first story I wrote about him as well:
The rain muffled the sounds of a city just waking up: a veil of static from pavement to sky. Milos leaned back against the tree and stared up at the canopy, its sparse branches almost no protection from the downpour—not that it mattered anyway: his hair had plastered across his skull and face hours ago and water streamed down his neck into his jacket, gluing the clammy clothes beneath to his body.
And the second… (though technically this was chapter 2 since the first one dealt with someone else entirely…)
Milos drew his knees up to his chest and rested his chin on them, watching the rain fall in a semicircle around him. The tree’s canopy offered better protection than he’d expected as he fled here to escape the sudden downpour: only the occasional drop broke through to plip against his head and dampen a patch on the ridiculous woollen hat he’d bought in sheer desperation earlier that day. It might keep his ears warm, but it did a bloody terrible job of making him less conspicuous.
they are two red-haired women, one pureblood and one muggleborn, but neither of them care because blood does not matter
(except that it does. except that this whole stupid war is about blood)
they are two red-haired women with the future of the wizarding world growing in their bellies
and this is how it goes
gideon and fabian prewett go into the ground that day
molly, the last remaining prewett, feels like she’s drowning
(and although she is now a weasley, she will always be a prewett)
arthur’s hand in hers reminds her that she is not alone (far from it, in fact), but it does not ease the pain, the grief of losing all that was left of her family in one fell swoop
there is a stream of endless platitudes and consolations, so repetitive and meaningless that they blend into one another
(and she feels awful for the ones she has offered in the past)
(sometimes words mean so little)
she tries to tune it all out. sometimes she mutters, ‘thank you,’ towards her feet, but mostly she is silent
‘when are you due?’
it is the only question that cuts through because it is so thoroughly unexpected, especially at a funeral
looking up, she meets a pair of brilliant green eyes, softened with sympathy in this moment
(but she knows just by looking at her that this woman can be hard, so hard and strong when she wants to be)
(and behind the woman stands a tall, bespectacled man with black hair, wilder and messier than hair really has a right to be, and she knows immediately that they are lily and james potter, who gideon and fabian talked about because of how bright and brave and in love they are)
when she does not answer, lily tries again, ‘you are pregnant, right? this isn’t some awful, social faux pas where i’ve asked a woman if she’s pregnant when she’s not, right?’
james sniggers and lily elbows him in the stomach
(and she wonders about these two, clearly so young, too young, for war and for a baby and for merlin knows what else might be coming)
(but she sees the way he holds her hand reverently, and the way she looks up at him reproachfully, her eyes betraying her amusement and embarrassment, and how he smiles and she smiles back and molly may as well not be there because they are so in love and damn the war)
‘march,’ she eventually answers and the anxiety in lily’s face melts away
then molly casts her eyes downwards and smiles
‘august,’ she answers, glowing like only a woman who is creating life can
lily’s hand skims across her stomach, the instinctual action of a woman whose belly is full of baby
(and molly would know, she has patted her own belly too many times to count)
‘well, i guess our children will be going to hogwarts together, then,’ molly muses aloud
‘maybe they’ll be best friends,’ lily smirks
and, for a moment, molly feels lighter because it is so reassuring to talk about the future in this way, to think about her children growing up in a world where they’re safe and happy and blood doesn’t matter and they can be whatever they choose to be
‘potter and weasley,’ james is staring dreamily at the sky before dropping his gaze back down and grinning widely
‘hogwarts won’t know what hit it.’
she never sees them again
her hands shake when she reads about them in the daily prophet
and she cries when she thinks about how they were bright and brave and so young
(too young and so in love)
(and now gone too soon)
she never forgets, but the memory does fade, the memory of meeting a vivacious couple on one of the worst days of her life and how they gave her hope for a future when the word future felt like taboo
and it doesn’t happen the way any of them had predicted, but it happens
because ron writes home in september 1991, talking about how he made friends with harry potter and how he stuffed himself silly on the hogwarts express because harry was generous and cool and being friends with him was easy and natural
so she thinks of lily and how she rubbed her belly, green eyes alight with hope
and she thinks of james and his cheeky grin and what he said that day
‘potter and weasley. hogwarts won’t know what hit it.’
An infinite number of people walk into a bar.
“I want a pint of beer”, says the first person.
“I want half a pint of beer”, says the second person.
“I want one quarter of a pint of beer”, says the third person.
“I want one eight of a pint of beer”, says the fourth person.
The bartender sighs, pours two pints of beer and says “C'mon people, know your limits”
CS AU: The knights of Misthaven finally catch the infamous Captain Hook and bring him to your majesties, Queen Snow and King David and her royal highness, Princess Emma, so he can pay for his crimes. But what if he’d met the young princess before? What if they fell in love?