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Jul. 30th, 2006 04:33 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mk_tortieI dreamt in fanfiction last night. As in, my brain spewed up an entire, completed story involving two in character Harry Potter characters, which made perfect sense (even when I woke up), but bears absolutely no resemblance to any plotline I've ever read before. Oh dear......
..... So I'm writing it down :$
Am I insane?
And if anybody's interested, here's the first couple of paragraphs. Does it actually sound interesting?
~
One dagger, dipped in one glass of wine, shared on one day in each year. Her birthday.
It was the third time around, now, of this strange tradition. Last time, it was she who had sent out the tentative invitation, to repeat the toast they had made the previous year. And this year, he had requested that she join him. So here she found herself, picking a way across the Heath in the half-light. Broken glass and twisted metal were mixed among the long grass; the trees themselves mimicked this, misshapen and gnarled into eldritch caricatures. There was not really much to be scared of here, she knew - but there was always the chance of infer, always the chance of dementors, and always the chance of vigilantes. If they caught her, they would steal her wand, that was for certain. Wands were scarce, these days, shared amongst groups or secreted away in cupboards, to be used furtively and discretely. It was for this reason that Ginny did not cast lumos. She wasn't stupid.
Instead, she walked with her wand strapped to her side, deep inside her robes. She had no fear of being spotted by Muggles, not nowadays. They knew to keep well away from places such as this, and stick to their tin box cars and their tidy little houses. A few years of "disappearances" meant that the place had gained a reputation. Well, it was the same with most of London's parks, she knew. She supposed that in more isolated places there was less to fear - the remnants of the Dark Lord's army of monsters preferred cities to the country. There was more food. Better the Muggles than me, Ginny thought, and hated herself for it. But it was true. There were just so few wizarding folk left. They had to protect their numbers, or they would die out, like the dodo. She couldn't help but grin at the thought of that - a stuffed wizard in a glass case in the Natural History Museum, next to a model of that funny shaped bird: "Major extinctions of the modern period".
Fred and George would find that funny.... No. No, they wouldn't. Fred and George didn't find anything funny anymore. She pushed those thoughts back down into the depths of her awareness, and concentrated instead on her immediate surroundings. There were lights in the distance now. She was approaching the town.
..... So I'm writing it down :$
Am I insane?
And if anybody's interested, here's the first couple of paragraphs. Does it actually sound interesting?
~
One dagger, dipped in one glass of wine, shared on one day in each year. Her birthday.
It was the third time around, now, of this strange tradition. Last time, it was she who had sent out the tentative invitation, to repeat the toast they had made the previous year. And this year, he had requested that she join him. So here she found herself, picking a way across the Heath in the half-light. Broken glass and twisted metal were mixed among the long grass; the trees themselves mimicked this, misshapen and gnarled into eldritch caricatures. There was not really much to be scared of here, she knew - but there was always the chance of infer, always the chance of dementors, and always the chance of vigilantes. If they caught her, they would steal her wand, that was for certain. Wands were scarce, these days, shared amongst groups or secreted away in cupboards, to be used furtively and discretely. It was for this reason that Ginny did not cast lumos. She wasn't stupid.
Instead, she walked with her wand strapped to her side, deep inside her robes. She had no fear of being spotted by Muggles, not nowadays. They knew to keep well away from places such as this, and stick to their tin box cars and their tidy little houses. A few years of "disappearances" meant that the place had gained a reputation. Well, it was the same with most of London's parks, she knew. She supposed that in more isolated places there was less to fear - the remnants of the Dark Lord's army of monsters preferred cities to the country. There was more food. Better the Muggles than me, Ginny thought, and hated herself for it. But it was true. There were just so few wizarding folk left. They had to protect their numbers, or they would die out, like the dodo. She couldn't help but grin at the thought of that - a stuffed wizard in a glass case in the Natural History Museum, next to a model of that funny shaped bird: "Major extinctions of the modern period".
Fred and George would find that funny.... No. No, they wouldn't. Fred and George didn't find anything funny anymore. She pushed those thoughts back down into the depths of her awareness, and concentrated instead on her immediate surroundings. There were lights in the distance now. She was approaching the town.
