Ten Thousand Words Chapter 1
Author: yourebrilliant
Beta: the_willows
Rating: G/PG
Disclaimer: Nope, not mine.
Summary: If one picture tells a thousand words, what story could ten of them tell?
It was Potter who found it; he was cleaning out the detritus from the bottom of his trunk in preparation for leaving Privet Drive. He propped it up on the mantle of Grimmauld place shortly after his arrival.
I barely noticed it when I moved in - when you’ve just defected from the ranks of a genocidal megalomaniac, you have rather more on your mind than the decor of your grudgingly offered sanctuary.
It wasn’t until months later that I looked at it properly. It was nothing special, just a school photo from our first year. A bunch of eleven year olds waving cheerfully in rows of identical robes. Undoubtedly mum would have a copy of it framed at home somewhere. Of course, she hadn’t left her bed since we arrived so it was somewhat difficult to ask.
It was some horrible time in the morning, when I saw it. We’d been locked up here for weeks; me, mum, and the Golden Trio. Members of the Order came and went; reporting on missions and having meetings, but we were the only constant occupants. They spent most of their time closeted in Potter and Weasley’s room, and I was focused on looking after mum, so our paths rarely crossed.
Having nowhere to be and nothing to do had knocked out my sleep patterns and, more and more, I’d found myself pacing the house in the middle of the night. It probably didn’t allieviate anyone’s suspicions of me, but I knew if I stayed in bed I’d go mental.
‘Don’t touch it!’ I whirled round; I hadn’t even realised there was someone else in the room. She was standing in the doorway, her hair wild from sleep, wearing huge fleecy pyjamas and holding a mug of something. ‘Please,’ she said, holding her hand out, ‘don’t touch it.’
I felt an insult rising in my throat - I even opened my mouth to say it - but, somehow, what came out was a deep, tired sigh. After weeks of near-silence, having someone to talk to suddenly seemed so much more important than winning a fight with Granger.
‘It’s okay,’ I said reassuringly. ‘I was just looking.’ I stepped back, holding my hands up to show I didn’t have my wand.
She watched me for a moment and then, just as I was beginning to think I should make an excuse and head for bed, she took a step towards me, gesturing to the photo with her mug. ‘We all look so innocent there, don’t we?’ she commented, smiling fondly. I looked back at the picture. She was standing bang in the middle, her hair completely uncontrollable, smiling nervously, her eyes full of an eagerness to learn. It must have been taken before she became friends with Potter and Weasley; they were off to one side of the row, swapping chocolate frog cards and waving absently at the camera.
‘Well, except me,’ I responded, pointing out the perfectly gelled little Draco smirking arrogantly from the front row.
‘No,’ she said quietly, pointing to the sparkle in little Draco’s eyes, ‘even you.’
There was a moment of silence where I looked at her and she smiled at our younger selves. Then she turned that smile on me and hefted her mug again. ‘Cocoa?’
‘What?’ I asked, staring down at her.
‘It’s a warm drink,’ she explained, gesturing to the odd pale brown liquid in her mug. ‘It always helps when I can’t sleep.’
‘Oh,’ I said, not sure why she was sharing this information.
She frowned at me for a moment and I wondered what I’d said wrong. ‘Right,’ she murmured eventually, ‘stupid question.’ She turned to leave and I realised what she meant.
‘Yes,’ I said quickly. She turned back, looking like she wasn’t sure whether to be surprised or angry. ‘Yes, I’d like some cocoa,’ I elaborated, and she smiled again.
‘Here,’ she said, holding the mug out to me. ‘You can have mine and I’ll make some more.’
She didn’t offer it as a test, and I didn’t take it to prove a point, but when I took the mug from her hand and followed her into the kitchen, I knew something important had just occured.
Chapter 2
Chapter Two Sneak Peek
It was the Potters - the dead Potters, of all people - who’d given her the idea, she said. Whenever she saw Potter flicking through that photo album Dumbledore gave him, she started thinking about what she would leave behind if she died in the war. So she made one of her own
Beta: the_willows
Rating: G/PG
Disclaimer: Nope, not mine.
Summary: If one picture tells a thousand words, what story could ten of them tell?
It was Potter who found it; he was cleaning out the detritus from the bottom of his trunk in preparation for leaving Privet Drive. He propped it up on the mantle of Grimmauld place shortly after his arrival.
I barely noticed it when I moved in - when you’ve just defected from the ranks of a genocidal megalomaniac, you have rather more on your mind than the decor of your grudgingly offered sanctuary.
It wasn’t until months later that I looked at it properly. It was nothing special, just a school photo from our first year. A bunch of eleven year olds waving cheerfully in rows of identical robes. Undoubtedly mum would have a copy of it framed at home somewhere. Of course, she hadn’t left her bed since we arrived so it was somewhat difficult to ask.
It was some horrible time in the morning, when I saw it. We’d been locked up here for weeks; me, mum, and the Golden Trio. Members of the Order came and went; reporting on missions and having meetings, but we were the only constant occupants. They spent most of their time closeted in Potter and Weasley’s room, and I was focused on looking after mum, so our paths rarely crossed.
Having nowhere to be and nothing to do had knocked out my sleep patterns and, more and more, I’d found myself pacing the house in the middle of the night. It probably didn’t allieviate anyone’s suspicions of me, but I knew if I stayed in bed I’d go mental.
‘Don’t touch it!’ I whirled round; I hadn’t even realised there was someone else in the room. She was standing in the doorway, her hair wild from sleep, wearing huge fleecy pyjamas and holding a mug of something. ‘Please,’ she said, holding her hand out, ‘don’t touch it.’
I felt an insult rising in my throat - I even opened my mouth to say it - but, somehow, what came out was a deep, tired sigh. After weeks of near-silence, having someone to talk to suddenly seemed so much more important than winning a fight with Granger.
‘It’s okay,’ I said reassuringly. ‘I was just looking.’ I stepped back, holding my hands up to show I didn’t have my wand.
She watched me for a moment and then, just as I was beginning to think I should make an excuse and head for bed, she took a step towards me, gesturing to the photo with her mug. ‘We all look so innocent there, don’t we?’ she commented, smiling fondly. I looked back at the picture. She was standing bang in the middle, her hair completely uncontrollable, smiling nervously, her eyes full of an eagerness to learn. It must have been taken before she became friends with Potter and Weasley; they were off to one side of the row, swapping chocolate frog cards and waving absently at the camera.
‘Well, except me,’ I responded, pointing out the perfectly gelled little Draco smirking arrogantly from the front row.
‘No,’ she said quietly, pointing to the sparkle in little Draco’s eyes, ‘even you.’
There was a moment of silence where I looked at her and she smiled at our younger selves. Then she turned that smile on me and hefted her mug again. ‘Cocoa?’
‘What?’ I asked, staring down at her.
‘It’s a warm drink,’ she explained, gesturing to the odd pale brown liquid in her mug. ‘It always helps when I can’t sleep.’
‘Oh,’ I said, not sure why she was sharing this information.
She frowned at me for a moment and I wondered what I’d said wrong. ‘Right,’ she murmured eventually, ‘stupid question.’ She turned to leave and I realised what she meant.
‘Yes,’ I said quickly. She turned back, looking like she wasn’t sure whether to be surprised or angry. ‘Yes, I’d like some cocoa,’ I elaborated, and she smiled again.
‘Here,’ she said, holding the mug out to me. ‘You can have mine and I’ll make some more.’
She didn’t offer it as a test, and I didn’t take it to prove a point, but when I took the mug from her hand and followed her into the kitchen, I knew something important had just occured.
Chapter 2
Chapter Two Sneak Peek
It was the Potters - the dead Potters, of all people - who’d given her the idea, she said. Whenever she saw Potter flicking through that photo album Dumbledore gave him, she started thinking about what she would leave behind if she died in the war. So she made one of her own