harryron (![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} harryron) wrote,@ 2005-11-17 13:21:00 |
 |
|||
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
41 : Shapes
Title: Shapes
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Harry Potter / Ron Weasley
Prompt: Shapes
Word Count: 310
Rating: R
Author's Notes: Written for fanfic100 and posted atharryron.
The one hundred stories are inspired by Broke Back Mountain.
Ron looks back on one hundred memories of his life with and without Harry.
Enjoy.
Shapes
****
That summer we went away together for the first time in years.
To our cottage.
Hermione didn’t even have to take the week off work; my Kate had finished school and was going to start work with her mum at the Ministry that autumn and she was happy to be in charge of the tribe.
That was my Head Girl for you. Well, Hermione’s Head Girl, I guess.
Harry and I hadn’t managed to last the year without meeting up, which I felt awful about; we had stolen the occasional afternoon together, so we didn’t fall on each other the second we arrived at the cottage.
We grabbed some food and walked up into the hills. It was wonderful to see him so stress free, to hear him talk about the changes he could see on the way, to hear him complain about the heat as sweat trickled down his neck and darkened his t-shirt.
Eventually we reached one of our favourite picnic spots and collapsed on the ground.
It was too hot to eat, but we each grabbed a Charm chilled drink and flopped back, side by side, looking up at the sky.
The sky was a deep and perfect blue, with patches of white fluffy clouds completely failing to block out the sun.
"A snitch," Harry said suddenly, pointing up at a wisp of cloud.
I rolled my eyes, remembering playing this game with him at school, remembering playing it with our kids.
"Neville," I sniggered, pointing to another cloud; Harry snorted.
"A ship," he offered, indicating a rather stately cloud drifting over us.
"Good one," I allowed. "Breasts," was my next go, as two blobs broke away from it.
"Hmmm, double points," he mused. It was always double points for something rude. "A rocket," he said.
"Where?" I frowned.
"Here," he said, rolling on his side and rubbing his erection against my thigh.
My Big Damn Table.
Title: Shapes
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Harry Potter / Ron Weasley
Prompt: Shapes
Word Count: 310
Rating: R
Author's Notes: Written for fanfic100 and posted at
harryron.The one hundred stories are inspired by Broke Back Mountain.
Ron looks back on one hundred memories of his life with and without Harry.
Enjoy.
Shapes
****
That summer we went away together for the first time in years.
To our cottage.
Hermione didn’t even have to take the week off work; my Kate had finished school and was going to start work with her mum at the Ministry that autumn and she was happy to be in charge of the tribe.
That was my Head Girl for you. Well, Hermione’s Head Girl, I guess.
Harry and I hadn’t managed to last the year without meeting up, which I felt awful about; we had stolen the occasional afternoon together, so we didn’t fall on each other the second we arrived at the cottage.
We grabbed some food and walked up into the hills. It was wonderful to see him so stress free, to hear him talk about the changes he could see on the way, to hear him complain about the heat as sweat trickled down his neck and darkened his t-shirt.
Eventually we reached one of our favourite picnic spots and collapsed on the ground.
It was too hot to eat, but we each grabbed a Charm chilled drink and flopped back, side by side, looking up at the sky.
The sky was a deep and perfect blue, with patches of white fluffy clouds completely failing to block out the sun.
"A snitch," Harry said suddenly, pointing up at a wisp of cloud.
I rolled my eyes, remembering playing this game with him at school, remembering playing it with our kids.
"Neville," I sniggered, pointing to another cloud; Harry snorted.
"A ship," he offered, indicating a rather stately cloud drifting over us.
"Good one," I allowed. "Breasts," was my next go, as two blobs broke away from it.
"Hmmm, double points," he mused. It was always double points for something rude. "A rocket," he said.
"Where?" I frowned.
"Here," he said, rolling on his side and rubbing his erection against my thigh.
My Big Damn Table.