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TItle: Whizzy Bangs Pt. 2
Claim: The Hufflepuff House (Zach, Megan)
Rating: PG-13 (finally getting close to R territory)
Word Count: 1567
Prompt: 73 - lips at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
potterverse100
Author's Note: Set after the books and the morning after The Words that Hurt. I didn't mean to injure Zach... but it needed to be done.
Author's Note 2: The smut was supposed to be closer than this but then I had the brilliant idea to make this all sad... Edit: Actually, there are only going to be two parts to this story. I'm ending it with the promise of the kiss. The smut will have to come in another story. *sigh* Sorry!
Megan was proud of herself. She’d been able to nod her head at Zach’s declaration, encouraging him to do what he could to make his dream a reality. Of the two of them, he was the one that was supposed to have been a shoo-in for any of the professional Quidditch teams after they left Hogwarts. It wasn’t supposed to have been this hard for him. And even now, he was assuming he could spot a Bludger coming at him from his bad side or swing around and catch the Quaffle with a hand that still didn’t close all the way. The war hadn’t just badly scarred Zach for the rest of his life. It had decimated his future – or the only future he had ever dreamt about.
The elderly man who had brought her out to the patio when she’d been wandering aimlessly through the mansion (because it seemed far better to call it that although she wondered if Zach knew he lived in something this grand) came out to clear the food from the table, giving her a sad smile as he vanished back through the door. She’d played this game of “shoot the whizzy bang” with Zach until her wrist hurt from keeping her wand straight and her shoulder ached hurt from the speed with which she needed to get it in position. Out of the hundred she tried for, Megan had only succeeded in exploding one and she had the sneaking suspicion that Zach had actually gotten to it first.
“How long do you normally do this?” she asked as she sank into one of the rickety chairs, rising quickly to bolster the legs with a Strengthening Charm before sitting down again.
“The Healer says I can do it until my eye puffs up from exhaustion.” He turned to grin at her. “So, about twenty hours.”
She knew that wasn’t just a number he’d pulled out of nowhere. “Twenty hours? I didn’t know a human being could stand in one place that long. I’m assuming your butler…”
“Renfield.”
“I’m assuming Renfield puts your food out here to try to entice you to eat something instead of waiting for you to come to the dining room.”
The quick Smith grin hadn’t been tampered with and Megan felt its affects down to her toes. “I don’t think anyone has eaten in the dining room since the war. Mum was always very particular about having it set for dinner but, well, a lot changes. In St. Mungo’s, you eat your dinner from a tray, no matter who you are or how much money you have.”
She swallowed a choking cry, having forgotten all about his mother. The woman had been held captive by Death Eaters until a contingent of Aurors, led by her aunt, had rescued the woman. No one had seen Mr. Smith, Zach’s father, since the fighting in this area had broken out. He was still listed as “Missing – Assumed Dead” on many of the lists that still circulated in the papers from time to time, when a story broke of someone being found or a Death Eater being sentenced. She had never liked to read them but Susan was still disseminating all the information as she found it out. Megan knew every time anyone from school was mentioned, even though she would have rather continued on without the knowledge.
“Do you visit her often?” she asked, wishing she knew how to respond correctly.
The grin was still there, a little sad, but still in place so she knew she wasn’t offending him too badly for bringing this up. “Every few days. I stay for a few hours, reading to her mostly, and then I head to the White Mantacor for a drink or two.”
This time, the cry came out and she covered her mouth with a shaking hand. It did nothing to stop the tears splashing down her cheeks, though, damning them up until they spilled over her fingertips and onto her shirt. She wasn’t aware she was even crying that much until she looked down and gasped at how wet the material was. Still he watched her from the middle of the floor, a sad smile still gracing his face.
“Does she…”
“No, she doesn’t wake up anymore. The Healers tell me they might be able to pull her out of this coma but not for a good while. There really isn’t much hope for her.”
Her shoulders shook now with the force of her sobs as she tried to keep them from bursting out of her. If he could be calm about it, she wanted to as well. Pain shot through her and she bent at the waist to keep from gasping from the force of her feelings. Never had she cried this much. Not even when she’d heard about Zach being missing, then wounded and finally recovering in a hospital she’d never been able to work the courage up to visit.
Susan had, though. She’d taken flowers to Zach for her, once, making sure to tell him that they were from Megan so that he’d have doubt of where Susan’s feelings lay. Michael hadn’t been as badly hurt as Zach, though. He’d sustained an injury to his back that had healed well with the dedication of an experienced team of Healers, working cautiously under the demanding eye of the niece of the late Amelia Bones, whom they had all been in awe of.
The fact that Megan had lacked the courage to go see her greatest friend in his hours of need hurt her more than she thought it would. During the long days of the war, she’d found other things to occupy her time, scurrying from one sanctimoniously good deed to the next. She;d basked in the glow of helping unfortunate children find new homes or helping to rebuild schools and parks. All the lovely things that the war had damaged. None of the things that the war had torn to bits, leaving mangled and unlovely.
When she finally composed herself, breathing deeply to get rid of the last of the sobs, she dared look up at him again. He hadn’t moved during her entire tirade. Instead, she once again had to walk to him, stopping close enough that she could feel the heat that radiated from his skin.
“I’m sorry,” she said through clenched teeth that still chattered from the force of her emotions.
“For what?”
She thought he might be feeling sarcastic and she wanted to disabuse him of that as quickly as she could. His sarcasm had never affected her like other people but she hated when he used it as a shield. There was no glint of hurt in his eyes, though. Only the question he seemed genuinely interested in the answer to.
“For not being a part of the war. For not coming to see you. For not being brave.”
He threw his wand to the side, his hands coming up to bite into her shoulders. “Don’t be ashamed of not fighting. I wouldn’t have let you. It was horrible, Megan. The worst thing I’ve ever experienced. If I hadn’t known you were safe, I would have been distracted. You should have seen Harry, going out of his mind every time he lost track of Hermione or Ginny. Or Tonks, worried that the other Aurors were in danger. I could go into battle with a clear eye because I didn’t need to worry about you. I was fighting to keep you safe.”
She was crying again, silently so that she didn’t miss any of his words. “But I could have done something to help.”
“You did. I saw all those stories in the Daily Prophet about all the good you were doing; how much you helped. Those kids, Megan. What would have happened to all those kids if you hadn’t stepped in and demanded that homes were found for them?”
The back of his hand was smooth under her cheek as she bent her head to cover one of his warm hands with her cool flesh. “I thought you might hate me.”
“I could never hate you, Megan.”
“But you use my name. You never used to use my name. You always called me…” but she didn’t want to say the word out loud. She remembered hearing it last night before things got fuzzy. There was also another memory of it that she hadn’t been able to pluck out of the drunken depths of her brain until just now. “What did we do last night?”
He grinned again and she found herself answering it with a delighted smile of her own, her cheeks flaming. “I figured you’d forget most of it. You were pretty adamant about going home instead of sleeping over. Seeing you today was a surprise. I figured you weren’t happy with me.”
“I have nightmares,” she admitted, biting at her already tender lower lip as she focused her attention on his top button. Some of the skin above it was still the deep red color of a burn but it looked to be healing. “Susan used to put a Silencing Charm around myroom at night. I guess I get pretty loud on my bad nights.”
“I don’t mind,” he whispered, his eyes suddenly in line with hers and very close. “Now quit biting your lip so I can kiss you.”
Part One can be found here.
Claim: The Hufflepuff House (Zach, Megan)
Rating: PG-13 (finally getting close to R territory)
Word Count: 1567
Prompt: 73 - lips at
potterverse100Author's Note: Set after the books and the morning after The Words that Hurt. I didn't mean to injure Zach... but it needed to be done.
Author's Note 2: The smut was supposed to be closer than this but then I had the brilliant idea to make this all sad... Edit: Actually, there are only going to be two parts to this story. I'm ending it with the promise of the kiss. The smut will have to come in another story. *sigh* Sorry!
Megan was proud of herself. She’d been able to nod her head at Zach’s declaration, encouraging him to do what he could to make his dream a reality. Of the two of them, he was the one that was supposed to have been a shoo-in for any of the professional Quidditch teams after they left Hogwarts. It wasn’t supposed to have been this hard for him. And even now, he was assuming he could spot a Bludger coming at him from his bad side or swing around and catch the Quaffle with a hand that still didn’t close all the way. The war hadn’t just badly scarred Zach for the rest of his life. It had decimated his future – or the only future he had ever dreamt about.
The elderly man who had brought her out to the patio when she’d been wandering aimlessly through the mansion (because it seemed far better to call it that although she wondered if Zach knew he lived in something this grand) came out to clear the food from the table, giving her a sad smile as he vanished back through the door. She’d played this game of “shoot the whizzy bang” with Zach until her wrist hurt from keeping her wand straight and her shoulder ached hurt from the speed with which she needed to get it in position. Out of the hundred she tried for, Megan had only succeeded in exploding one and she had the sneaking suspicion that Zach had actually gotten to it first.
“How long do you normally do this?” she asked as she sank into one of the rickety chairs, rising quickly to bolster the legs with a Strengthening Charm before sitting down again.
“The Healer says I can do it until my eye puffs up from exhaustion.” He turned to grin at her. “So, about twenty hours.”
She knew that wasn’t just a number he’d pulled out of nowhere. “Twenty hours? I didn’t know a human being could stand in one place that long. I’m assuming your butler…”
“Renfield.”
“I’m assuming Renfield puts your food out here to try to entice you to eat something instead of waiting for you to come to the dining room.”
The quick Smith grin hadn’t been tampered with and Megan felt its affects down to her toes. “I don’t think anyone has eaten in the dining room since the war. Mum was always very particular about having it set for dinner but, well, a lot changes. In St. Mungo’s, you eat your dinner from a tray, no matter who you are or how much money you have.”
She swallowed a choking cry, having forgotten all about his mother. The woman had been held captive by Death Eaters until a contingent of Aurors, led by her aunt, had rescued the woman. No one had seen Mr. Smith, Zach’s father, since the fighting in this area had broken out. He was still listed as “Missing – Assumed Dead” on many of the lists that still circulated in the papers from time to time, when a story broke of someone being found or a Death Eater being sentenced. She had never liked to read them but Susan was still disseminating all the information as she found it out. Megan knew every time anyone from school was mentioned, even though she would have rather continued on without the knowledge.
“Do you visit her often?” she asked, wishing she knew how to respond correctly.
The grin was still there, a little sad, but still in place so she knew she wasn’t offending him too badly for bringing this up. “Every few days. I stay for a few hours, reading to her mostly, and then I head to the White Mantacor for a drink or two.”
This time, the cry came out and she covered her mouth with a shaking hand. It did nothing to stop the tears splashing down her cheeks, though, damning them up until they spilled over her fingertips and onto her shirt. She wasn’t aware she was even crying that much until she looked down and gasped at how wet the material was. Still he watched her from the middle of the floor, a sad smile still gracing his face.
“Does she…”
“No, she doesn’t wake up anymore. The Healers tell me they might be able to pull her out of this coma but not for a good while. There really isn’t much hope for her.”
Her shoulders shook now with the force of her sobs as she tried to keep them from bursting out of her. If he could be calm about it, she wanted to as well. Pain shot through her and she bent at the waist to keep from gasping from the force of her feelings. Never had she cried this much. Not even when she’d heard about Zach being missing, then wounded and finally recovering in a hospital she’d never been able to work the courage up to visit.
Susan had, though. She’d taken flowers to Zach for her, once, making sure to tell him that they were from Megan so that he’d have doubt of where Susan’s feelings lay. Michael hadn’t been as badly hurt as Zach, though. He’d sustained an injury to his back that had healed well with the dedication of an experienced team of Healers, working cautiously under the demanding eye of the niece of the late Amelia Bones, whom they had all been in awe of.
The fact that Megan had lacked the courage to go see her greatest friend in his hours of need hurt her more than she thought it would. During the long days of the war, she’d found other things to occupy her time, scurrying from one sanctimoniously good deed to the next. She;d basked in the glow of helping unfortunate children find new homes or helping to rebuild schools and parks. All the lovely things that the war had damaged. None of the things that the war had torn to bits, leaving mangled and unlovely.
When she finally composed herself, breathing deeply to get rid of the last of the sobs, she dared look up at him again. He hadn’t moved during her entire tirade. Instead, she once again had to walk to him, stopping close enough that she could feel the heat that radiated from his skin.
“I’m sorry,” she said through clenched teeth that still chattered from the force of her emotions.
“For what?”
She thought he might be feeling sarcastic and she wanted to disabuse him of that as quickly as she could. His sarcasm had never affected her like other people but she hated when he used it as a shield. There was no glint of hurt in his eyes, though. Only the question he seemed genuinely interested in the answer to.
“For not being a part of the war. For not coming to see you. For not being brave.”
He threw his wand to the side, his hands coming up to bite into her shoulders. “Don’t be ashamed of not fighting. I wouldn’t have let you. It was horrible, Megan. The worst thing I’ve ever experienced. If I hadn’t known you were safe, I would have been distracted. You should have seen Harry, going out of his mind every time he lost track of Hermione or Ginny. Or Tonks, worried that the other Aurors were in danger. I could go into battle with a clear eye because I didn’t need to worry about you. I was fighting to keep you safe.”
She was crying again, silently so that she didn’t miss any of his words. “But I could have done something to help.”
“You did. I saw all those stories in the Daily Prophet about all the good you were doing; how much you helped. Those kids, Megan. What would have happened to all those kids if you hadn’t stepped in and demanded that homes were found for them?”
The back of his hand was smooth under her cheek as she bent her head to cover one of his warm hands with her cool flesh. “I thought you might hate me.”
“I could never hate you, Megan.”
“But you use my name. You never used to use my name. You always called me…” but she didn’t want to say the word out loud. She remembered hearing it last night before things got fuzzy. There was also another memory of it that she hadn’t been able to pluck out of the drunken depths of her brain until just now. “What did we do last night?”
He grinned again and she found herself answering it with a delighted smile of her own, her cheeks flaming. “I figured you’d forget most of it. You were pretty adamant about going home instead of sleeping over. Seeing you today was a surprise. I figured you weren’t happy with me.”
“I have nightmares,” she admitted, biting at her already tender lower lip as she focused her attention on his top button. Some of the skin above it was still the deep red color of a burn but it looked to be healing. “Susan used to put a Silencing Charm around myroom at night. I guess I get pretty loud on my bad nights.”
“I don’t mind,” he whispered, his eyes suddenly in line with hers and very close. “Now quit biting your lip so I can kiss you.”
Part One can be found here.
