(no subject)

[bubosquared]

Current WiPs, and what I have of them. Not particularily exciting, really.

History

(Which is the working title of my Marcus/Oliver, Harry/Draco epic. Yes, that's all I have right now.)

History repeats itself.

Learn

(Working title of my Marcus/Ginny.)

Marcus Flint never learns from his mistakes.

When he was in his third year, he flew too close to the Whomping Willow, and spent three days in the infirmary. As soon as he was released, he grabbed a broom and flew at the Willow again, and again, and again, until he managed, just once, to sear past and touch the tree without once getting hit.

All it got him, in the end, was a lot of scars and an admiring look from Oliver Wood.

The Game

(Of which I have more, but that's all written in longhand, and this is all I have typed up.)

Harry's summer had been almost disappointingly normal. The Dursleys were still trying to ignore the existence of magic, Dudley was still fat, and halfway through the summer, the Weasleys had come to get him. Despite the normality, or perhaps because of it, he'd had a disquieting feeling all summer. It had been especially bad at the Weasleys; he'd never forgive himself if anything happened to them because he was with them when Voldemort attacked.

"I don't understand what's taking Arthur so long," Mrs Weasley worried. "He said he'd be in time for dinner, and it's not like him to be late without notice. I do hope nothing serious happe- There he is!"

Indeed, Mr Weasley came running up the garden path, huffing and puffing, his face an alarming shade of crimson. "You alright, Dad?" Fred inquired when his father entered.

The almost murderous look in Mr Weasley's eyes made it clear that no, he was not alright. "That man ... Of all the idiotic things ... The irresponsibility ... Denial is one thing, but this ... Practically murder!"

Mrs Weasley, who had been looking increasingly worried throughout this, interrupted.

Twilight

(The older!Harry&Draco, gen/pre-slash epic.)

He made it to Cuba by May, and by then Harry's trail was only seven years old. 'I'm gaining on him', he thought, and spent the next three weeks cursing Harry as he tracked him over dusty roads, from village to even tinier village.

"¿Dónde puedo encontrar un lugar para dormir?" The reaction of the old man didn't give Draco much hope that he'd be spending the night anywhere but outside. Again.

He was startled by a voice coming from behind him. "I didn't know you spoke Spanish."

He whirled around. "What the hell are you doing here?" Which, really, was the stupidest thing he could've said.

"I live here. What are you doing here?" Looking disturbingly calm for someone who’d vanished off the face of the earth over ten years ago, and was now found again.

"I was ..." He pauses, and thinks. "Following you."

"Any particular reason?" And he was still showing no emotion aside from a faint trace of amusement, and Draco really wanted to kick him in the shins just to get a reaction out of him. Just like old times, he thought. "Not really. Because I wanted to see if I could find you, I guess."

Should post my First Kiss story, except I'd rather give the premiere to the official website. (Read: I can't be arsed to put it up.) Maybe I'll post it friends-only or something. Sneak preview for a few priviledged ones.