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16 October 2005 @ 12:14 pm
Harry Potter; Justin Finch-Fletchley  
Title: Five Things That Never Happened to Justin Finch-Fletchley
Author: thethirdbar
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing/s, Character/s: Justin Finch-Fletchley (Megan Jones, Zacharias Smith)
Rating: G/PG-13
Word Count: 786
Summary: [What if - ?]

[If they‘d said ‘no‘.]

(There’s an owl -) (Ignore it, Justin.) Begging, pleading, crying, he wants it, wants it so much, this, it’s new and exciting and magical, please, please mother. Tries to tell her, tries to make her see; it would be good, great, can’t you imagine, to have a wizard in the family. Make him see, mother, make him understand. He wants this, wants magic and fantasy and a world - a world where he’s something different, doesn’t want Eton and Cambridge and stuffy, stupid English Aristocracy, elevenses and afternoon tea. He tries to explain, make them understand, but it’s difficult to try and explain something he doesn’t know about himself, something he isn’t sure he should believe in, doesn’t really know if it’s real - oh, but it is, it is, he’s sure, what else could it be? Please, please - (You’re going to Eton, Justin. None of this magical rubbish.)
He watches the letter burn.

[If he hadn’t woken]

(Just Petrified.) (They’ll be fine.) Huge, green, malicious, glance of bright yellow bulbous eyes through the Gryffindor ghost, blinding even seen through the cloudy spirit, and Justin doesn’t feel himself fall or hit the ground. Dark, dark, it’s all dark, can’t move, can’t see, can’t hear, smell or touch or taste, but he’s there, Justin knows he’s alive, awake, just frozen. Solid, stiff; he feels so guilty, too, for blaming Harry Potter, after seeing it, that snake. He wants to move, to speak, to see, wants to hear, wants to know what’s going on. What’s happening, somebody tell me what’s happening, somebody please, tell me, fix me, make it stop, hate it, can’t stand this dark, desolate nothingness; black, black, grey, barren, colourless; a wasteland that he can’t escape from; deafening silence and blinding emptiness. (The draught’s not working.)
Justin screams in silence.

[If he had never told.]

(Can I kiss you?) (Yes, yes. Kiss me.) Soft skin and softer lips, scent of jasmine and vanilla and feathery blonde hair between his fingers. Soft, small breasts pressed to his chest, arms around his neck and tongue against his mouth. Soft, soft, curves and feminine grace; it’s nice, he thinks, her fingers pressing into the nape of his neck as she sighs his name into his mouth, but he wants smooth angles and hardness, stubble-rough skin and calloused fingers. He licks his lips, thoughtful, contemplative, as she pulls away; looking at him with wide green-blue eyes, shining, hopeful, fingers sliding across his skin, asking, wanting, pleading with him. She wants him, loves him, wants him to love her in a way he knows he doesn‘t, would but can’t, as her hot, damp breath ghosts across his lips, his hands trembling slightly. (Did you like it?) (Yes.)
And he kisses her again.

[If he’d been kissed back.]

(It’s you.) Sharp inhale of breath, startled green eyes trying vainly to lock on terrified blue ones as he averts his gaze, sits on the dew-damp grass, knees pulled up to his chest, arms around them, locked with trembling, trembling hands and trembling lips and breath and - (Me?) disbelief, denial, no, what? that can’t be right, can’t be him, not the best friend, and Justin nods, shaking nervous breath and tongue sliding across red red lips. He’s brave, though, brave enough to nod again, to swallow and speak again. (Yes. You.) And, oh, he doesn’t want to be hated, never meant to tell, to spoil their friendship, to make them both uncomfortable, unhappy and - Zach’s fingers on his chin, tilting his head up. Justin blinks wide eyes, so blue, and Zacharias smiles gently, and traces a fingertip across quivering lower lip, follows with the darting of his tongue and - (Yes.)
Justin melts into him.

[If he had stayed.]

(There’s to be a war.) Flashes of pain, fear, pain, fighting, fighting and Harry Potter, strong solid superhero, fearless and afraid, leader, general, the one to follow. Zacharias and Hannah and Megan and all the others, Ravenclaws and Gryffindors and even some Slytherins, a child army, barely eighteen, fighting and killing and dying for muggles who don’t even know, never did, never will. For his family, for Hermione Granger’s, for all the other muggleborns, for himself, that’s why Justin is fighting. Cries of pain and horrible, hideous curses, and it’s terrifying and Justin’s afraid, so afraid as Zach holds tight to his hand as the Death Eaters come, wands raised and faces promising death, smoke and ashes. His friends by his side, the child army, strong and brave and shattered like glass, and Zach whispers - (I would have loved you if I could.) and Justin replies - (I love -)
There is a flash of green.


fanfic100 prompt; 082; If.

Read? Review!
Current Mood: contentcontent
Current Music: Rufus Wainwright - Scarecrow
Bite my glorious golden ass!dark_eyed_amy on October 16th, 2005 11:27 am (UTC)
*CRIES* You angsty fucker, you.
the Queen of Melodrama & Irrationality: .larrythethirdbar on October 16th, 2005 11:31 am (UTC)
Sorry. :| Did you read the other two?

(Pretend I didn't just delete comments, ho hum.)
Bite my glorious golden ass!: frank works the cameradark_eyed_amy on October 16th, 2005 01:31 pm (UTC)
Yeeeah, I did see the other two and went to reply and wondered why you'd deleted them. You kerazy.
the Queen of Melodrama & Irrationality: .cinderella's got to gothethirdbar on October 16th, 2005 01:33 pm (UTC)
Other two fics I meant, princess, not comments. :|
evylationsevylations on October 16th, 2005 09:32 pm (UTC)
Awwwww. I love the last bit. And awwww, they burned his letter. Jesus Christ, even if things would have been different it's still angsty. I demand something funny for the next fic. :|
the Queen of Melodrama & Irrationality: .show me where we're goingthethirdbar on October 16th, 2005 09:33 pm (UTC)
I suspect I am not as good at funny, though. :|
Lissa: homestarflowers on October 17th, 2005 01:37 am (UTC)
Yikes. You keep making my chest hurt with these things.

So good.
the Queen of Melodrama & Irrationality: .sweet dreams are made of thisthethirdbar on October 17th, 2005 10:21 am (UTC)
Go read the other one. :|

Also. I am sorry I am so angsty, I can't quite seem to help it. :\

But. Thankyou! ILU<33