Fic: Photo album, Snapshot 2
Jan. 19th, 2006 07:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
asimplechordSnapshot Title: Hermione's and Molly's perspectives
Warnings: more fluff, armchair psychoanalysis, not HBP-compliant
Rating: still PG, and probably will be for a bit
Disclaimer: I only wish these characters were mine. But since the things I'd do to them would be obscene, perhaps it's for the best that they belong to JKR, Scholastic, etc.
A/N: Written during my lunchbreak today and entirely unbeta'd. Feel free to ping me with errors.
Previous snapshot is here.
When Ginny came storming back into the Great Hall, I knew that Harry had finally done it; he’d finally reached his limit and told her off. He’d been remarkably patient with her, I think. Everyone except Ginny and Ron, who have long wanted our trio to be a quartet, could see that Harry wasn’t interested in her romantically. I think initially Harry was simply grateful for family and attention, and didn’t differentiate between the type of affection bestowed by Fred, George, Ginny, or Ron. Other than Ron, he is closest to Molly, who he loves as if she were his own mother. Molly knows this, and has given up on the idea of Harry and Ginny as a couple. She wouldn’t care who he brought home to her, as long as he was happy.
Until recently Harry had shown no overt interest in anyone. Understandable, given his preoccupation with the war and emotional distancing after Sirius’s death. I doubt if he has even realized it himself yet. That it is Draco Malfoy who has captured his eye and heart somehow does not surprise me. Who else our age can understand the darkness Harry holds inside? Draco might have been a member of the Order, but he was raised a Malfoy, and he learned young all that the name entails.
Ginny interrupted my dance with Ron, and filled his ears with insults (exaggerated, I imagine) paid by Harry. Of course, Ron was already angry that Harry voluntarily danced with Draco, so it didn’t take much to further enflame his temper. His deep, irrational hatred of all things Malfoy has been held at bay, up ‘til now, because of my acceptance of Draco’s apologies. But I think there is a niggling fear, an unadmitted jealousy that Harry will enjoy Draco’s friendship and proximity, allowing Draco to displace Ron in Harry’s heart. Foolish, really. Anyone who knows Harry knows how profound is his affection for Ron and his family. Ron, being Ron, can’t see the forest for the trees.
Ron decided to escort Ginny home to Grimmauld Place, and in the absence of my dance partner, I considered leaving myself. I hoped to find Harry, to make sure he was all right; he broods so, especially when it comes to anything that might generate gossip about the Boy Who Lived, and Ginny’s rant earlier did precisely that. Just as I approached the exit, though, the great doors flew open and a laugh floated in, followed by a grinning Harry. As glad as I was to see him happy, I was torn between relief and apprehension. That Ron had already left was the primary source of both emotions – he’d have been apoplectic if he had seen how cheerful Harry was, and who had caused the mood. Harry was obviously laughing at something Draco, who had come in with him, had said. I knew that when Ron learned of it – because of course the gossip would reach him – he would do something he would come to regret.
Yes, as I say, I was torn. I could see a schism looming and I knew I would be forced to bridge the gap between Harry and Ron. I knew from experience how exhausting and uncomfortable that position could be. Yet I could not deny that this school term Harry was more relaxed and happier than I had ever seen him, and his contentment came from spending time with Draco Malfoy.
Malfoy is surely aware of this, just as he is aware of Harry’s utter obliviousness when it comes to relationships. There have been a few occasions when I’ve caught him gazing at Harry with such undisguised longing and tenderness that I had to look away. I almost didn’t believe my own eyes the first time I saw it. But those moments are brief and rare. Something must have happened; lately he has avoided Harry, who only realized how much of his time was spent with Draco when his daily allotment of Slytherin was withdrawn. That might have been the beginning of the end of Harry’s patience with Ginny, now that I consider it.
Whatever the problem was, it is apparently mended now. I suspect that Ginny had something to do with Draco’s withdrawal, and his sudden reappearance tonight, particularly during Harry’s dance with her, confirms it.
Not that it matters. Harry is happy. Draco is part, or even all, of the cause. I’ll support Harry and his relationship, even if it means acting like an owl between him and Ron, as I did in our fourth year.
There is nothing worse, as a parent, than watching your child hurt themselves and another of your children. Yet I was powerless to prevent it. I knew Ginny was obsessed with Harry; she had been since she was a small child. I knew equally well that Harry did not return her feelings. I tried to warn her, to turn her head toward other young men, but she wouldn’t be budged, and Ron encouraged her in her foolishness.
Tonight, when Ginny and Ronald arrived home from the Yule Ball much earlier than expected, I knew something had happened.
Ginny’s complaints about Harry and insults of Draco Malfoy were vitriolic, and Ronald’s support of her temper did not help matters. I finally sent him off to his flat with the assurance that I would tend to his sister. I imagine that he assumed I would comfort her and revile Harry for his behavior, but I did no such thing, particularly given only their side of the tale. I know that both of them react without thinking, while Harry lets his temper simmer and only responds when he can’t bear the pressure any longer. It’s an effect of growing up with those Muggles, whose abuse was near constant.
When her tirade drew to an end, I sat Ginny down at the kitchen table and poured her a cup of tea. There was already a shot of Calming Potion in the bottom of the cup, so after a few sips she was only mildly peeved at Harry. I reminded her that she had always done the pursuing, that Harry had never encouraged her personal attention, and that such appalling behavior in public was unbecoming in a lady. I could see that my words made little impression. As she went upstairs to bed, she had the mulish expression on her face that is so like her father’s when he is set on something. I’m quite certain that she is going to make these holidays uncomfortable for Harry in his own home.
Now that the tea tray is cleared away, I must find a quill and parchment. I have a couple of letters to write.
Who is Molly writing? What does Draco think of all of this? Onlythe shadow irisgirl knows. :)
Warnings: more fluff, armchair psychoanalysis, not HBP-compliant
Rating: still PG, and probably will be for a bit
Disclaimer: I only wish these characters were mine. But since the things I'd do to them would be obscene, perhaps it's for the best that they belong to JKR, Scholastic, etc.
A/N: Written during my lunchbreak today and entirely unbeta'd. Feel free to ping me with errors.
Previous snapshot is here.
When Ginny came storming back into the Great Hall, I knew that Harry had finally done it; he’d finally reached his limit and told her off. He’d been remarkably patient with her, I think. Everyone except Ginny and Ron, who have long wanted our trio to be a quartet, could see that Harry wasn’t interested in her romantically. I think initially Harry was simply grateful for family and attention, and didn’t differentiate between the type of affection bestowed by Fred, George, Ginny, or Ron. Other than Ron, he is closest to Molly, who he loves as if she were his own mother. Molly knows this, and has given up on the idea of Harry and Ginny as a couple. She wouldn’t care who he brought home to her, as long as he was happy.
Until recently Harry had shown no overt interest in anyone. Understandable, given his preoccupation with the war and emotional distancing after Sirius’s death. I doubt if he has even realized it himself yet. That it is Draco Malfoy who has captured his eye and heart somehow does not surprise me. Who else our age can understand the darkness Harry holds inside? Draco might have been a member of the Order, but he was raised a Malfoy, and he learned young all that the name entails.
Ginny interrupted my dance with Ron, and filled his ears with insults (exaggerated, I imagine) paid by Harry. Of course, Ron was already angry that Harry voluntarily danced with Draco, so it didn’t take much to further enflame his temper. His deep, irrational hatred of all things Malfoy has been held at bay, up ‘til now, because of my acceptance of Draco’s apologies. But I think there is a niggling fear, an unadmitted jealousy that Harry will enjoy Draco’s friendship and proximity, allowing Draco to displace Ron in Harry’s heart. Foolish, really. Anyone who knows Harry knows how profound is his affection for Ron and his family. Ron, being Ron, can’t see the forest for the trees.
Ron decided to escort Ginny home to Grimmauld Place, and in the absence of my dance partner, I considered leaving myself. I hoped to find Harry, to make sure he was all right; he broods so, especially when it comes to anything that might generate gossip about the Boy Who Lived, and Ginny’s rant earlier did precisely that. Just as I approached the exit, though, the great doors flew open and a laugh floated in, followed by a grinning Harry. As glad as I was to see him happy, I was torn between relief and apprehension. That Ron had already left was the primary source of both emotions – he’d have been apoplectic if he had seen how cheerful Harry was, and who had caused the mood. Harry was obviously laughing at something Draco, who had come in with him, had said. I knew that when Ron learned of it – because of course the gossip would reach him – he would do something he would come to regret.
Yes, as I say, I was torn. I could see a schism looming and I knew I would be forced to bridge the gap between Harry and Ron. I knew from experience how exhausting and uncomfortable that position could be. Yet I could not deny that this school term Harry was more relaxed and happier than I had ever seen him, and his contentment came from spending time with Draco Malfoy.
Malfoy is surely aware of this, just as he is aware of Harry’s utter obliviousness when it comes to relationships. There have been a few occasions when I’ve caught him gazing at Harry with such undisguised longing and tenderness that I had to look away. I almost didn’t believe my own eyes the first time I saw it. But those moments are brief and rare. Something must have happened; lately he has avoided Harry, who only realized how much of his time was spent with Draco when his daily allotment of Slytherin was withdrawn. That might have been the beginning of the end of Harry’s patience with Ginny, now that I consider it.
Whatever the problem was, it is apparently mended now. I suspect that Ginny had something to do with Draco’s withdrawal, and his sudden reappearance tonight, particularly during Harry’s dance with her, confirms it.
Not that it matters. Harry is happy. Draco is part, or even all, of the cause. I’ll support Harry and his relationship, even if it means acting like an owl between him and Ron, as I did in our fourth year.
There is nothing worse, as a parent, than watching your child hurt themselves and another of your children. Yet I was powerless to prevent it. I knew Ginny was obsessed with Harry; she had been since she was a small child. I knew equally well that Harry did not return her feelings. I tried to warn her, to turn her head toward other young men, but she wouldn’t be budged, and Ron encouraged her in her foolishness.
Tonight, when Ginny and Ronald arrived home from the Yule Ball much earlier than expected, I knew something had happened.
Ginny’s complaints about Harry and insults of Draco Malfoy were vitriolic, and Ronald’s support of her temper did not help matters. I finally sent him off to his flat with the assurance that I would tend to his sister. I imagine that he assumed I would comfort her and revile Harry for his behavior, but I did no such thing, particularly given only their side of the tale. I know that both of them react without thinking, while Harry lets his temper simmer and only responds when he can’t bear the pressure any longer. It’s an effect of growing up with those Muggles, whose abuse was near constant.
When her tirade drew to an end, I sat Ginny down at the kitchen table and poured her a cup of tea. There was already a shot of Calming Potion in the bottom of the cup, so after a few sips she was only mildly peeved at Harry. I reminded her that she had always done the pursuing, that Harry had never encouraged her personal attention, and that such appalling behavior in public was unbecoming in a lady. I could see that my words made little impression. As she went upstairs to bed, she had the mulish expression on her face that is so like her father’s when he is set on something. I’m quite certain that she is going to make these holidays uncomfortable for Harry in his own home.
Now that the tea tray is cleared away, I must find a quill and parchment. I have a couple of letters to write.
Who is Molly writing? What does Draco think of all of this? Only
