My Fanfiction

[Guest]

Hello, all! On FF, I'm XAPY-TZINY-IIOZEINTON-NOAT (do NOT ask). I'll probably post most of my good one-shots on here, try them out on everyone before they go up, like I planned to do last time. And right now, I'll do a little advertising: If you like time-travel stories, check out Simply Complicated. It's the classic, "Harry gets sent back to '77 to teach DADA," but I'm trying to change some things up. I'm only on the second chapter of the re-do, but hopefully I'll get it really going soon.

A few things:
-The only ships I write or am good at writing are Harry/Ginny and Lily/James, which is fine, because I love them. Canon is the best, but that's just me.
-I have way too many ideas jumping around my head at once.
-I write fluff and a tiny bit of angst.

So, yeah! Happy reading!

[Guest]

The Big Dipper

She closes the door behind her with a snap and winces at how loud it seems in the empty room, which also happens to be so lightless that she is almost blind. There are only two explanations to this: Either he hasn't yet arrived, or he has fallen asleep. Again.

She presumes it's the former, but is proven wrong immediately when a sudden brightness renders her incapable of anything but shielding her eyes and pondering painfully the source of aforementioned brightness. She lowers her arms to his see his face smirking at her, his illuminated wand tip bathing the enclosure in white light.

"Elegant," he mutters good-naturedly; She narrows her eyes at him, trying to purse her lips but failing spectacularly as she can't stop the small smile that creeps onto her face.

"Why, thank you, I do try," she says, not bothering to lower her voice as she stares up into his face; he's so much taller than she is, and he loves the way it irks her so.

He raises his eyebrows. "Someone's been having a bad day."

"Thank you, Mr. Sarcastic," she snaps scathingly, but, again, her mouth is quirked upward in pure affection. She takes a step to the left, intending to move forward, but he mirrors her, blocking her path. "What?" she demands.

Only one strip of hair remains arched now. "You could be polite."

She rolls her eyes, but she knows he can barely see in the shadowy atmosphere. "Again, your comments amuse me to the point of R – O – F –L."

His brows furrow together now. "What?"

She shakes herself slightly, as though coming out of a trance. "It was on one of those note-passing sheets we both have a collection of." They share another brief smile as those memories float before their eyes. "It means, 'rolling on the floor laughing'."

"But there isn't a 'T'."

"I know."

He moves his head side to side. "The world is…"

"Jacked up?" she supplies, and he chuckles: It's yet another parchment phrase.

"Exactly. Jacked up."

There's pause where neither seems sure of what to say, and they suddenly realize that they're still standing in the same position: She pressed up against his chest in the confined space, he staring down at her with his wand bearing the title of barrier between their faces. She clears her throat, and it sounds so endearing to him that he beams.

"Right," she says, and she makes to move to the right this time, but again he goes carbon-copy, so that her path to her destination is marred once more. "Do you need something?"

Touchy, he thinks amusedly, and, faking a gentleman-like persona, he steps aside and bows so low that he could nearly kiss his shins. "After you, m'lady," he says mock-jauntily; it comes out in his usual I-Can-Make-Fun-Of-Everything-In-The-Universe voice instead of the intended one.

"Thank you," she says, and mutters, "Finally," as she passes him. Once more, however, her level of irritability is questioned by her wide, face-splitting smile, which would indicate, if she was in the company of more than just one person, that there was no other place she would rather be at the moment (Well, that much is true).

She tromps over to one side of the larger, square room that the tiny inlet leads to, intending to settle herself gracefully onto whatever perch she was met with, but, as she bends her legs more and more, she realizes that nothing is there to hold her weight. She feels blindly around the room, internally cursing herself for not bringing her wand and him for being so stupid and not providing her with light, and at last comes to the conclusion that there is no seating in the space.

"What happened?" she asks loudly, and now he enters, eyes questioning. He raises his wand, now restoring the sight that, indeed, neither couches nor armchairs are available at the moment. She groans, and he chuckles, making her turn to glare at him. "What now?"

He coughs, looking distinctly uncomfortable. "Nothing," he mumbles, and she smirks triumphantly as she looks away. She does, however, hear him cough again, along with undistinguishable words that just happen to be, "Pissed off."

She walks into the center of the room and turns in a circle, pausing at the great windows that provide a peaceful view of a starry night sky lit by a crescent moon. She chooses not to think about the largest spot and focuses her attention, instead, on the many patterns made up of fiery balls of gas. She's just finding Orion when she feels two arms wrap around her waist. She points out the constellation, and he nods as he rests his head on top of hers, still having to bend down to do so. She smiles.

"There's Sirius," he says low-heartedly, pointing to one overly-bright star shining high, high above their heads.

Her show of teeth instantly disappears like his nonexistent one, and she murmurs, "Keep him out of your mind. It'll ruin the moment."

He snorts. "'Moment'? That's sappy of you. Read any romance novels lately?"

She can almost hear his grin behind the teases, and she tells him, "Maybe I have, and maybe I haven't. I don't believe it's your business what I do and don't do, Mr. –"

"Okay, okay!" he says hurriedly, briefly pulling his hands up at shoulder length; she turns her neck to see this. "You've played the 'Mr.' card twice already tonight. It's starting to scare me."

"'Starting'?" she repeats, raising an eyebrow, and he regrets his choice of words at once.

"Forget I ever said anything," he mutters, and, for the umpteenth time, she smiles and turns back to the beautiful scene before them.

"You're more beautiful."

Oops. Has she said that out loud? Yes, it seems she has.

"I'm not," she says simply, believing it and just being thankful that he loves her anyway. She ignores his nearly inaudible scoff.

"Yes, you are." His mouth his so close to her ear that he's nearly licking it, and although he's not, it feels like he is, and it sends shivers down her spine. "You always are." Again, so effing close…

They're silent for a time, until she recognizes another constellation and directs their attention to it.

"The Big Dipper…"

No sooner has the last syllable rolled of her tongue than the two watch, mesmerized, as a shooting star streaks across the sky, imprinted clearly in their minds without any question.

"Make a wish," he whispers, and she obliges without another word, in her head: I wish he'll make it out of this. I wish we'll make it out of this.

"What did you wish for?" she asks him quietly, a few minutes later, as they both saw the same miracle flash before their eyes repeatedly.

"If I tell you it won't come true," he says nonchalantly, but there's something in his voice that makes her sure he's hiding something.

"I wished for us to be together. Forever." She triesto stress the last part as much as she could, with as much sincerity she could muster from the very depths of her soul, her heart. He sighs contentedly, with no comment sufficient enough to respond.

Again they're quiet for the longest time, until at last she releases herself from his grip, turning around in his arms to face him and locking her own around his neck, fidgeting with his hair. She removes one hand and rests it on his cheek.

"I'm worried for you," she tells him quietly, in a low voice. "What if you… What if…" She can't finish the thought. She doesn't have to.

"I'll be okay," he reassures her, but somehow she isn't convinced. "And I know what you're going to say" - for she opens her mouth - "but we can't think about that. Let's cherish what we have, here and now."

She knows he's right, as he always is whenever he's been contemplating something for an extensive amount of time, and then she realizes that he's been doing just that, and she hates that he hasn't told her, but understands as much as she possibly can the reason for it.

She nods, letting out a heavy breath, simultaneously steeling herself for what she has to do for her own good, her own sanity.

"Promise me," she says firmly, looking him directly in the eye.

"You know I can't," he says softly. He rubs her back soothingly as she deflates, but she tenses suddenly as she lay her head on his shoulder.

"Please. Please."

The way her voice breaks does it, makes his will crumble as easily as a wall next to dynamite, and he pulls back and stares at her. There is something in his gaze – a twinkle, a spark, just this something she doesn't have a name for – that is as firm yet as lighthearted as titanium is strong yet lightweight, and she can almost believe he is telling the truth when he next speaks.

"I promise."

These two words fill her heart up with a reassurance that reminds her of how she felt as a young girl when her mother would gather her into her arms, stroking her hair as she cried over a scraped knee and tending to the offending wound without hardly any effort. Yet it feels different – it's a warm, almost fuzzy feeling that has no definition in the dictionary, and not one person that has ever lived can describe it. It does, however, have a name, a name that one only gives to that one unnamable feeling.

"I love you," she tells him quietly.

"And I you," he says as he tilts her chin up, and she lifts herself up onto the tips of their toes: Their lips meet, fireworks better than the ones they have been dealing with explode, a blazing passion erupts between them, and the promise is sealed.

They break apart, her head now sideways on his chest, staring out the window again, her arms around his middle. His head is once more resting on top of hers, his own arms holding her abdomen tightly, as though afraid if he released his grip, the wind would sweep her away.

They stare at the stars, inhaling the crisp night air through a small slit in the glass, watching the moon cast its silver glow over the grounds, and they see another shooting star streak across the sky, granting them each another wish.

Together forever…

---

I wrote this last summer, and at that point it was probably the best thing I'd ever written. It was a total crack pairing, and you will never guess what it was. Oh, and sorry about any weird spacing - copy and paste was being a bitch. Tell me what ya think!