#ktoo writes

[keeptheotherone]

[keeptheotherone]

Do You Promise?

Chapter 1 of a new WIP, just for you, my Tumblrers <3

August 1999 the Burrow’s garden Weasleys’ 2nd Annual End of Summer Celebration

Charlie Weasley sat on the fence separating his mother’s vegetable patch from the garden, thinking about the last time he’d sat here, one year ago. Then it had been Bill at his side, not his little sister.

“Knut for your thoughts,” she said, pushing herself up.

“Where’s your boyfriend?”

Ginny raised her brows at the implication of his answer but didn’t tease. “Around.”

“Mmm.” He’d been home for more than twenty-four hours, but he hadn’t seen Potter once. At Christmas, they’d been a package deal, never out of arm’s reach of the other. “I thought he might have had to work.”

Ginny shook her head, pigtails dancing round her shoulders like they had when she was shorter than this fence. “Today and tomorrow, but not tonight. Mum made them promise.”

By “them,” Charlie knew she meant Ron and Harry. But … Mum made them promise? Not Ginny, or even Hermione?

“Well, he’d better show up,” Charlie said, taking a drink of his beer. “He owes me a rematch.”

They had played Quidditch in the orchard last year, he and Ginny and Potter and George and a bunch of kids he hadn’t known. Played past sunset into darkness, until Professor McGonagall ended the pick-up match without a capture of the Snitch.

Ginny muttered something that sounded like “he owes me a hell of a lot more than a rematch,” but Charlie let it slide. Ginny could take care of herself.

He and Bill had made sure of it.

“Shouldn’t you be with your friends?” 

“Thanks, Charlie, that means a lot.” She swiped the bottle from his loose grasp and drank.

Charlie had to remind himself she was of age to keep from overreacting, but even so, his hand twitched reflexively.

Ginny saw it and smirked round the glass, tipping her head back and the bottle up, taking several long swallows just for show.

“Yeah, you can have my beer, Sis. I’ll just get another, no problem.”

She finished with a pop and licked the foam from her upper lip before handing it back. “Thirsty.”

Charlie held the bottle up to the light—there was exactly one swallow left. “Brat.”

Ginny was predictably unfazed, gazing over the crowd starting to assemble round the food tables. “I talked to Angelina. She said Alicia couldn’t make it this year.”

“Who?” Charlie said, right as a picture of a perky brunette, with equally perky … anatomy … popped into his mind. Shit. Alicia wasn’t avoiding the party because of him, was she? The same age as George, she would know most of the people attending tonight. He’d thought they parted on good terms, all things considered….

“I thought you might be watching for Amy.”

“Amy’s coming?” He hadn’t seen Amy Green since he had invited himself back to her room and she politely declined. 

“Fleur wasn’t sure,” Ginny said casually, as if she hadn’t just dangled fairy lights in front of a niffler. “She said she encouraged her to come since she sounded a little down, but Amy didn’t commit. I hope she does, don’t you?”

“Of course. I haven’t seen Amy since the memorial. It would be good to catch up.” Charlie took a subtle deep breath, repeating the mantra he told himself when he occasionally woke with her on his mind. You asked, and Amy said no. It doesn’t matter if she isn’t seeing anyone. She’s still unavailable, Weasley. No benefits, just friends.

“I remember, you know. You think I was too young to understand, but I remember. In Egypt.”

Charlie scoffed. His baby sister celebrated her twelfth birthday the summer his family had visited Bill in Cairo. “Oh, yeah? And what do you think you remember, Gin-Gin?”

“I know Bill was an arse,” she said bluntly.

This reversal of her usual hero worship got Charlie’s attention.

“I know you weren’t. And that you liked her. I know you two went out together, and you’ve both dated other people since … but you’ve never dated each other.”

Charlie sighed. “Ginny….”

“Bill’s married,” she said simply. “It doesn’t matter any more.”

“I never thought I’d say this … but go find something else to do. Even if it’s Harry.”

****

Charlie did not leave his post on the fence rail, content to get quietly drunk and watch his family enjoy themselves. He had wondered why he’d bothered making the trip in—it made three in a month, when you added the party to Ginny’s and Percy’s birthdays—but now admitted to himself it had been in hopes of seeing Amy. After all, she hadn’t refused him, exactly; she’d refused the timing. 

“I think we both know what will happen if you walk me back to Hogsmeade.”

He raised his brows, leaving the challenging “so?” unspoken.

Amy closed her eyes, then pulled her hand from his. “Not today, Charlie.” She waved her hand at the gates and the castle and the grounds beyond, where the first Remembrance Ceremony had just ended. “Not after this.”

“Oi, sleepyhead!”

Charlie opened his eyes to find an object in eminent danger of colliding with his nose. He snatched it from the air in sheer self-defense, then groaned when he realized he’d just crumbled one of the best biscuits he’d ever had in his life—a biscuit he’d been waiting all year to taste again.

Percy laughed. “Nice catch, Captain.”

“Shut up,” Charlie muttered, trying to transfer the contents of his hand to his mouth without wearing them.

“Full of snappy retorts tonight, I see.”

Charlie eyed his next-youngest brother, his cheery demeanor highly suspicious. “Did you just get laid?”

Percy slung one arm around his shoulders. “I, in the utmost gesture of brotherly solidarity, am foregoing my own numerous opportunities to assist you in yours, however few and far between they may be.”

“You’re pissed.” Alcohol did not make Percy more relaxed; it made him more Percy-ish.

Percy squinted one eye closed and looked towards the gate. “Perhaps,” he conceded. “But not so drunk I can’t recognize a certain beautiful brunette.”

It was Amy. She was wearing—well, Charlie supposed it was technically a dress, but he’d seen similar items under a dress or robes more than once. It was black and flow-y, with red flowers and skinny straps made to make a man think of slipping them off, and just like that Charlie saw the garment puddled at her feet. She was taller than usual in thick sandals, and even from this distance, with the cut of the dress and the way she moved—he could tell she was braless. He raised the bottle to his mouth before remembering it was empty.

“Godric, I wish I had a camera,” Percy said wistfully. “George and Ron are never going to believe this.”

Charlie realized he was making a fool of himself, closed his mouth, and turned, shaking off his brother’s arm. “What’s she doing now?”

“Making a beeline for us.”

Charlie spoke through clenched teeth. “Shut up and get the—”

“Amy! What a pleasure. We’re so glad you could make it.”

Charlie turned to find his brother kissing Amy on both cheeks with minimal difficulty, despite their height difference. His heart skipped a beat. She was taller; he could kiss her easily.

No, not kiss. We’re friends!

Oh, who was he kidding? Unless she flat-out declined, he was sleeping with Amy Green tonight. They could figure out the friendship stuff tomorrow.

“Hey,” she said, pausing just shy of kissing distance (cheek or otherwise).

“Hey.”

Her hair was down, as it often was, but she had pulled back the front above her ears, exposing small purple and silver earrings (her house colors) and … a blush?

“I would offer to bring you a handful of biscuits, but something tells me you two aren’t going to be here for long.” Percy smirked. “Take care, Amy. See you tomorrow, Charlie.”

Charlie glanced at Amy to judge her reaction. “I’m sorry. He’s, er—”

“Taking the piss?” She offered the British idiom with a grin.

Charlie returned it. “I was going to say ‘pissed,’ but yeah. That too.”

She laughed.

“I keep telling you, you’re lucky to be an only child.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said, brushing her hands over his chest with slow, deliberate strokes that were in direct opposition to her presumed goal of removing crumbs. “Brothers can be useful. I figured even if you turned me down, not all of you would.”

Charlie froze, just for a second, his brain short-circuiting to a night more than a year ago, before Ron had left for Australia. “Well, if she actually says it with words, that’s always a good sign, although if she strips her knickers off, that’s even better.”

Wait a minute … she wasn’t commando under that thing … was she?

It took a few moments for the silence to catch his attention.

“I take it that’s not a no,” Amy said dryly.

“No. It’s not. But—”

Her expression darkened, and she pulled away slightly. 

“The terms haven’t changed.” 

“I didn’t think they had,” she said cooly.

They had been here before, the autumn after Voldemort came back. Grimmauld Place, an unexpected post-meeting raid, high spirits and adrenaline … and the darkened hallway where Amy had turned him down. “I like strings,” she’d said, and walked away.

The staccato drumbeat of the Weird Sisters’ Do the Hippogriff pulled Charlie from the memory.

“Drink?” he asked, indicating his empty bottle in case she hadn’t heard him over the noise.

“Not really.”

He’d already started towards the tables, but her answer drew him up short. “Really, Amy, you could at least buy me dinner first,” he said sarcastically.

She sighed. “Look, Charlie, I don’t want to play the game. It’s why I’m here. Now, am I wasting my time or not?”

For the second time that night he found himself holding on to his temper. He was starting to see how she’d got under Bill’s skin, why he’d had such a hard time letting her go even when Bill had known he didn’t want to pursue a relationship with her.

“So what, you thought you’d just fly in, snap your fingers, and I’d jump?”

“Am I wrong?”

Godric, she was obnoxious. She was also beautiful, confident, and sexy as hell, and Charlie was honest enough to admit he found the balance of power between them as intoxicating as it was infuriating. 

“We could get a room at the Leaky—in magical London—or maybe Hogsmeade?”

“I have a room in the village.”

Damn. When Amy made up her mind, she didn’t mess around.

“All right,” he agreed. “One last thing, though.”

He stepped into her space, close enough to ruffle her skirt with his legs and watch the gooseflesh pebble across her chest and shoulders. He ignored the temptation to follow it down and looked her in the eye. In heels, she was as tall as he, but his wide shoulders and bulky frame dwarfed her. He paused to let her consider this fact, still not touching her, before dropping his voice.

“You will not be in control the entire night.”

Her reaction went straight to his groin—a sharp intake of breath, dilated pupils, a shiver she tried to suppress. Then she smiled, a sly, knowing smile that reached all the way to her eyes and made them sparkle in the fading sunlight.

“Do you promise?”

[keeptheotherone]

During Ginny's seventh year, Harry sneaks into Hogwarts to spend an evening with her.

This is the first fic I ever posted. I’m hoping to work it into A Bit of Both, the 8th-year school-year fic that is my next novel-length fic.

[keeptheotherone]

How did Parvati and Padma Patil end up in different Houses?

There’s nothing particularly special about this fic itself, even though it was my first-ever challenge entry. The special part is the challenge was run by the one, the only, the masterful (see what I did there?) @mydearprofessormcgonagall! My first fandom friend, my West Coast buddy who was the only one online with me at 1 in the morning, my head canon mirror. Love you, Luce--this journey wouldn’t have been nearly as much fun without you!

[keeptheotherone]

After sixth year Hermione tells Ron how she feels, but when he doesn't respond as expected, it's confusion and hurt feelings again. Can Ron explain about Lavender and move them past years of misunderstanding to convince Hermione he wants a girl like her?

The one that started it all....

This is the first fanfic I ever wrote and the second one I published. It’s the second HP fic idea I ever had and my first multi-chap. A true blast from the past.

[keeptheotherone]

Old fic, new dialogue ... sorta

I once watched an episode of White Collar that gave me an idea for a Weasley boys scene. I had intended to follow the dialogue fairly closely, but when I wrote it out, it didn’t fit the characters. Here’s the original draft of the opening scene of “The Melted Elf,” chapter 18 of One Big Happy Weasley Family. 

(pretty sure that episode is S5E7, “Quantico Closure”)

Oliver nudged Percy and jerked his chin towards the bar. “Tell me we’re looking at the same thing.”

Percy followed his gaze, seeing his oldest brother backing away from an attractive brunette witch with the pitchers he’d been sent to retrieve held like a shield in front of him. Percy’s curiosity spiked at this highly unusual behavior from his charismatic brother. “Bill Weasley, uncomfortable.”

“That’s not his natural state. You know she’s professional Quidditch,” Oliver said.  “A Tornado.”

Percy raised his eyebrows, watching as Bill set down the pitchers only to plunge his hands into his pockets. “Well, she blew in like a windstorm. Look at the way she holds herself—open. Totally exposed.”

“Confidence and plenty of it,” Oliver agreed, eyeing her up and down.

 “Oooh,” Percy said as the witch trailed her hand down Bill’s arm in a very familiar fashion. “Oh, that’s not the first time she’s touched him like that.”

Oliver’s eyes were wide. “Huh-uh.”

“They have a past,” Percy said. “Look at her eyes. All over his face.”

“Yeah, she wants to see if he still feels anything. Whoa!”

“What?” Percy took his eyes off the witch to look at his friend. “What?” 

“They slept together.”

“Bill?” Percy looked back at the woman, unable to imagine his straight-arrow brother cheating on his wife.

“Not recently,” Oliver said quickly.

“Okay,” Percy said slowly, thinking. “He had a pretty serious relationship with a girl at Hogwarts. Her family owned half of Diagon Alley.”

“That explains the confidence. That and the top-of-the-table rankings,” Oliver said.

The two men looked at each other.

“That’s Bill’s ex,” Percy said smugly. “It has to be.”  

“What are you lot looking at?” Charlie returned from the loo and sat down. Both Ron and Harry were turned around in their seats.

“Bill’s ex-girlfriend,” George said.

Charlie snorted. “That narrows it down. Wait, is that—”

She laughed and leaned forward, giving most of the pub more than a glimpse of her cleavage.

“It is!”

“Who?” 

“Lindsay Campbell,” Charlie said with satisfaction.

[keeptheotherone]

Don’t worry, this is a collection of one-shots! In this case, a post-war Charlie and Ginny sibling fic. By my count, there are at least thirteen references to six of my other fics in this chapter. A ficlet to whoever matches the most!

[keeptheotherone]

Update Wednesday #3

From The One Where Mary Gets Involved, chapter 9 (unpublished):

Mary saw the shadow of an arm in the doorway, then the lights flicked on and everyone yelled, “Surprise!”

Molly jumped, then laughed. She turned to Sherlock, who stood watching her with one of his rare, genuine smiles.

“Happy birthday, Molly Hooper.”

Their eyes caught, and Mary saw the now-familiar frisson of chemistry pass between them, but before either could act on it, Molly was swept into the room by those closest to the door and her attention diverted.

Mary pulled up the playlist she’d created for tonight and hit play, sending Little Richard’s voice blaring “Good Golly, Miss Molly” into the room.