My brain keeps returning to this idea – what if, in POA (movie universe), Harry never realizes that the crane Malfoy sent him was a note (because I mean, who would)? Like he just stares at it, confused, then goes “okay” sets it down on his desk and goes back to ignoring Snape
I mean, Draco would be furious because how dare you not appreciate my bullying Potter and the next class they have together, he grabs another piece of paper, writes something along the lines of “You suck Potter”, folds another crane and blows it over – only for it to be left sitting on Harry’s desk again after the lesson, and Harry didn’t even look inside, he didn’t do anything with this damn crane, and Draco is absolutely seething from this lack of attention
So he does it again. And again. And again.
First it’s insults (because of course he hates Potter, they’re archenemies, never mind the actual murderer stalking Harry at this very moment) – “I hope you die Potter” “I wish I met Sirius Black I’d help him” “Your glasses are appalling why do you still have the same ones from first year your prescription can’t possibly be the same you moron” “Eat a bag of dicks Potter” – but a month goes by and he’s running out of things to say and Potter never reads the notes anyway so Draco just starts ranting about everything else he finds annoying
Soon the cranes are just a way of venting – talk about your day, fold a beautiful crane, send it to the person you definitely hate the most. He still tries to snark and generally antagonize every time he sees Potter, because it’s practically my duty to take the Golden Boy down a peg, Goyle – but he can’t do it the same way anymore, so he takes a step back – in everything except the cranes.
Every day, every class, and sometimes at breakfast, a crane will land next to Harry Potter’s elbow. Without fail. Harry will pick it up, stare at it, and set it back down. Or maybe slip it into his bag, and Draco’s stomach flips the first time he does that.
It’s almost like they’re friends. By now, Draco’s told him things he never even voiced to his friends – that he’s actually terrified of the Dementors, that he keeps feeling like he’s not good enough, because no matter what he tries, there’s always somebody better than him at it – that he still can’t understand why Harry didn’t want to be his friend that time on the train, seriously Potter what did I do? you didn’t even know me! – and Potter didn’t crumple any of the cranes, so maybe he doesn’t hate him so much anymore?.. Draco knows Potter never reads these notes, but he likes to pretend that Harry knows all these things about him. And maybe even cares a little.
It’s stupid, and he really shouldn’t be putting any of such personal details in writing (honestly Lucius would be so disappointed, these cranes are perfect blackmail material and what the hell are you thinking Draco yells Draco’s inner voice) – but he can’t stop. It’s become a habit, and Potter stared at him for fifteen minutes at lunch today, so he can’t stop. Draco keeps talking, and making Harry little doodles, and trying not to smile too obviously when another crane ends up in Harry’s pocket.
And meanwhile, Harry’s going nuts. He just doesn’t understand what Malfoy wants from him, or why he doesn’t run into him so often anymore – and the cranes really seem to be just paper (Ron why does Malfoy know origami is this a general wizard thing or is it just him), and they’re delicate and elegant, and he feels bad about destroying them – so he just leaves them.
Until, of course, he absentmindedly shoves one in his bag one day – and finds it that evening. Sighs and sets it on his bedside table, because what else can he do?.. Even if he throws it out, he’ll just get a new one tomorrow. Or three.
He’s confused, because Malfoy isn’t even so loud or dramatic anymore, it’s almost as if he’s trying not to attract attention – beyond the cranes – but Harry’s eyes are glued to him anyway. He knows that Malfoy has to be up to something, because of course he is – but he just can’t tell what, there’s no way to know, and holy shit Ron he just smiled at me what the hell is he planning – and all this time, the pile of cranes on his bedside table keeps growing
He doesn’t lie awake at night, thinking of Malfoy’s smile. He doesn’t. Really.
The next day, when he gets his morning crane, he flashes Malfoy a brilliant smile, and laughs at his stunned expression like ha, two can play at this game! Gotcha now! and he’s still thinking that Malfoy’s messing with his mind – except he can’t help but think that it would be nice if Draco was really like that. If he really just sent the cranes over to brighten Harry’s day. If there wasn’t something else behind this, because he’s starting to like it.
All this goes on until Hermione barges into their dormitory again, in the ungodly hours of the morning, like she usually does – and stops dead, staring at the pile of cranes, Ron may have been complaining but she never imagined the true extent of this new, yet age-old obsession. And of course, Harry tries to protest, that it’s all for science, Hermione, I have to find out what he’s up to and this is the only source of information – but the excuses run dry when she quizzes him a bit and finds out that none of the cranes are cursed, or charmed to yell insults, or anything, really
So she’s like “well have you tried to unfold one” and no he didn’t, who the heck writes notes inside a crane anyway, isn’t it an artwork?? But hey, that’s an idea, and that night the trio gets together, sitting on Harry’s bed with the crane he just got in Charms, bated breath and all, waiting for it to unleash something nasty (Harry finds himself really really hoping it won’t)
All kinds of security measures done, and they unfold it
Hermione’s like “oh. Oohh,” and Ron’s eyebrows fly away to roam the world
there’s a shitty little drawing of Harry and Draco holding hands, with little hearts all around
y’all: it sucks that the spy genre is so misogynistic and fridges all of its female characters for male angst
atomic blonde: kills off a brown lesbian for the angst of the white female protagonist
y’all: OH WELL NOW IT’S OKAY!!! I’M GLAD MY WOMEN-LED STORIES CAN REPLICATE ALL THE CONVENTIONS OF MALE-LED STORIES THAT MADE THEM SHITTY IN THE FIRST PLACE!11 DON’T MISS OUT ON THIS NEW FEMINIST FILM!!1!!1! :DDDD
based on a dream I had, I present: a short semi-fic about Jack and Shitty and their day-long, beautiful relationship.
Basically, this is what happens:
At a kegster during their freshmen year, in which Shitty is running around being the life of the party even though he’s a freshman, Jack is also in attendance– talking to Berger and Marsh in the kitchen. Jack is there, partly to keep an eye on Shitty, partly because he is surprised by how much he does like some of the guys on his team, mostly because they had won today and Jack is in quite a good mood. Not a good enough mood that he is going to risk going into the living room where music is blasting, but in a good enough mood that he is holding a solo cup of beer and chilling in the kitchen, chatting with Berger and Marsh. He is at ease as Jack ever is– laughing good naturedly as they tease both him and each other and of course, this is when the trouble starts.
The trouble is this: Marsh is drunk and excited that Jack has actually shown up to a Haus kegster and since Jack seems to be in a good mood, Marsh decides to take a risk and ask Jack a Question. More specifically, Marsh rams an friendly elbow into Jack’s ribs and goes:
“Yo, Zimmermann, you like anyone on campus yet?”
A few months prior, that question would have made Jack freeze up. But now, Jack smiles easily (because honestly, it is a rather respectful question– “like” instead of “fuck”; “anyone” instead of assuming “girl”) and he certainly doesn’t want to get into his romantic history or lack of crushes so he smiles, shrugs, and says
“Nah, love’s shitty,” It’s still friendly and he smiles and asks Berg about his crush that the whole team knows about and that should be that.
The problem, however, is that what Alex Berger and Carter Marsh heard was not “Nah, love’s shitty,” but “I’m in love with Shitty.”
Some context. Classic WoD campaign, Chicago. A group of hapless neonates, freshly arrived to the city and accused of pretty much treason, we’ve been given 48 hours to investigate and try to save our asses. I play a Tremere investigator and we also have a Gangrel forest ranger, a Brujah gangbanger, a Toreador tattoo artist and a Giovanni emo teenaged hacker.
We’ve all been rolling pretty spectacularly bad all night and chuckles at our fails abound. Earlier I had made a low roll on an Intelligence + Occult roll to identify whether a ghoul was under another vampire’s thrall (despite my high stats on both the dice just hated me). Later on, our Giovanni has another look at the ghoul and rolls high in the same. The following occurs.
ST: You’ve rolled high enough, [Giovanni] and you identify something in her behavior as suspicious that reminds you of what you’ve read about the Dominate discipline.
[Giovanni]: I’m pretty sure she’s dominated.
ST: [turns to me] [Tremere], you rolled real bad earlier so you’re still convinced that she’s not and that [Giovanni] is wrong.
[Giovanni]: Here, I’ll explain it to you in short words.
(They both happen to have the highest Intelligence stats in the coterie)
Me: I listen to his arguments and explanations. I elect to ignore the fact that he’s patronizing me.
OOC Me: [Tremere] is just 100% done with these dice rolls so he’s like, whatever, maybe he’s right.
ST: [Giovanni] Roll me a Manipulation + Expression. Difficulty [Tremere]’s Willpower. [he succeeds] Excellent, [Tremere] what [Giovanni] tells you shakes something loose in that ginger head of yours and you recall a detail you recently read in the many, many books your Sire made you read through as part of your training. [gets technical about how Dominate 3 can be undone by someone of appropriate power and experience, things my character really ought to know]
OOC Me: [I am so done with my shitty rolls] [Tremere] makes a face as realization sets in and it’s so humiliating he thumps his head against the nearest wall. [Jokingly] Do I roll for head-desking?
ST: …Do it.
OOC Me: Well shit. [rolls… and botches so spectacularly I am speechless]
[Gangrel]: All those 1s…
ST: Well, somehow your irritation makes you overdo it and instead of a simple boop you straight up head-butt the wall. Roll to soak the damage.
OOC Me: OH MY GOD. [I roll my crappy soak… and botch spectacularly again] NO!
ST: Congratulations, your Tremere takes 2 bashing damage from the wall. You have a sizeable bump on your head and a headache.
OOC Me: …….I need a mortal to take some aspirin so I can bite them.
Context: My party is made up of a bard with three personalities, a wizard with an intelligence of seven, a human assassin(homebrew class) who killed her father, and a rouge who is always drunk. They are not very stable or well adjusted people. This was early in the game, when they were all unloading their emotional baggage.
Assassin: I killed my father.
Bard: That’s very sad.
Wizard: Was he a bad person?
Assassin: Well, yes-
Wizard: Oh, it’s alright then.
Rouge: Yeah, I mean, if he’s a shitty person, then why would you regret killing him?