anythingbutgrey | HARRY POTTER NON-CANON SHIPS COMMENT FICATHON

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HARRY POTTER NON-CANON SHIPS COMMENT FICATHON

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Harry Potter Non-Canon Ships Comment Ficathon

THE RULES ARE THUS:

1. WHAT MAKES A NON-CANON SHIP? Anything that is not at least one-sided in the books. This means that Snape/Lily is canon, even if she may (or may not) have ever reciprocated. Bellatrix/Voldemort is canon. Lavendar/Ron is canon. Obviously everyone who's married and/or dates is canon. OBHWF is canon, Harry/Cho is canon. Ships that are not stated as fact in the books are not canon. That means UC ships are good, slash is good, femslash is good. For our purposes, we are not counting JKR's interviews as canon. That means that if you wanted to prompt, say, who knows, Hannah/Neville, you could, because it's not in the text itself.

2. You leave a comment with a pairing and a prompt. You respond to prompts that you like. Your prompt must pertain to a non-canon ship. You may specify a character within that ship if you want the fic written from that characters perspective. You may also specify a timeline if you'd like, or if you want it to take place in the movie!verse.

3. When writing fic, put in your title SHIP - TITLE OF FIC (rating optional). This will help us archive if we later archive things. I don't have time to archive anything right now, but if someone wants to volunteer, we can make that happen.

4. LEAVE FEEDBACK. Comments are the lifeblood of the internet.

5. NO WANK. I'll delete your ass. And we're dealing with ships and I am deletion happy, so watch yourself.

6. There will be spoilers for the movie all over this post, I am sure. You have been warned.

7. Promote this if you please. You can use this code:

For text link:

In the image code box, you can use any of the banners below or the lead banner at the top of the post.

They're all uploaded to tinypic, so you can just copy/paste the source code:

eleusis_walks

superkappa

by

lenina20:

If you want to make your own banner, please post it here.

Have fun!

ETA:

effingeden has graciously offered to archive our prompts and fic here. Thanks so much!

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

No one will ever expect you to do something. You're the boy who tried to stop Harry Potter from saving the school in First Year. You're the boy who's scared of your own grandmother. You're the boy who has a toad for a pet and talks to plants. You're the boy who didn't even know you were magic till you were dropped out of a window. You're - You're Neville Longbottom.

Ginny on the other hand, so feiry, so angry, so passionate ... well, it's the sensible thing to stop and search her, to keep her behind after class, to constantly dock house points (as if they even mean anything now), to torture her. After all, she's Ginny Weasley. If there's a rebellion around, she'll be the one to organise it.

Not you. Not Neville Longbottom How would you ever be able to pass messages without getting caught, get graffiti put on the walls without anyone getting caught, know exactly how to recruit and hide members, how to hide in the Room of Requirement, how to withstand torture without giving up anything, rally the students against the Deatheaters, stand up to Voldemort, slay Nagini, help heal people. It's not like you could be a card up anyone's sleeve.

Or maybe, just maybe, people don't tend to notice the quiet ones ...

Harry/Hermione You and I walk a fragile line. I have known it all this time

Oh wow. There is happiness here. Lovely. <3 I absolutely adored reading this.

It isn't till gone three in the morning, when Tonks has cried and raged herself to sleep that Charlie slips out from under her and covers her with a blanket. He stretches, feeling his back click in all the wrong places, and looks down at Tonks, hair settled on a mix of red and grey, and he wants to shake Remus till he wakes up from his stupid, stupid idea that Tonks would never love him, not him.

"I'll keep fighting with you hun," he whispers, stroking a soft hand over her cheek that is blotchy and tear stained, with a little bit of chocolate that missed her mouth when Charlie was trying to imitate her dad doing the aeroplane trick, "don't worry, we'll slay that stupid dragon in his head that thinks you two can't be happy ... I promise ..."

GUH Regina Spektor ... *loves this prompt*

Oh this is quite lovely. <3

Niceties slipped away in war.

It was fitting that their journey on the run started at a wedding, a formal societal function filled with fancy clothing and drinks and dancing.

After living in a tent for weeks on end, polite society seems so far away that they can’t imagine being at another formal function ever again.

With the death of politeness, nerves fray. The incessant sniping begins anew, then, suddenly, Ron is at the door to leave and looks at her, asking if she is leaving with him.

Barging out isn’t part of polite society. But they are past polite society. They are on to the need to survive.

A million years of evolution drives her instinctual choice to stay with the Boy Who Lived, who survives no matter the impossible circumstance, again and again.

A million years of evolution drives her instinctual choice to remain with the one who has proven himself in battle before and surely will do so again. The one who figured out how to free her from a stone prison in her own body. The one who ensured she was rescued from the bottom of a lake.

For her it is the instinctual choice, the adaptive response. He is proven. He leads by instinct, and she follows by instinct.

She never rationalizes her choices in these terms; the response bubbles beneath the surface of her consciousness in the few crevices of her brain that she hasn’t honed through hours of study. The instinctual part. The part that knows to breathe in and out. The part that knows to send air to the lungs and water to the gut. The part that blinks thousands of times a day without a thought. The part that makes this decision in an instant and without hesitation or thought.

To even ask if she’s leaving, Ron takes on a million years of evolution and six years of loyalty and friendship and bravery and love. The question is settled before it finishes falling from Ron's lips, but the question is asked.

Perhaps niceties survive after all.

Awww. What a sweet friend he is!

Oh thankyou! Glad you like it :D

Love. It.

THIS:
She feels the sobs before she lets them out and she breathes in hard, her mouth open as she gasps for air to keep from crying.

...KILLED ME DEAD.

And then these two parts:
“I don’t know how to go back anywhere that’s not our tent in the forest.”

[...]

She turns her head and their eyes meet.

“Because you had no idea what you were doing when you told Ron you loved me like a sister.”

...KILLED ME MOAR DEDER. SHE LOOKED HIM IN THE EYE AND TOLD HIM THAT?! OH. OH, KIDS! THANKYSOMUCHILOVEIT!

Edited 2010-12-06 06:47 (UTC)

First time I heard this song! Thank you for the rec ♥

Draco/Oliver - Oliver teaches Draco respect, rather than fear as he's used to.

" We thought we knew what you were doing! We thought Dumbledore had told you what to do, we thought you had a real Plan!" Ron's words were buzzing in Harry's head like a swarm of angry hornets as he was laying in his bunk. It had been weeks since Ron had walked out on Harry and Hermione but his betrayal remained just as painful as the night of his departure. With each passing day the fact that Ron wasn't returning became an increasingly difficult truth to swallow. Hermione hadn't stopped crying since Ron left, something which Harry could no longer bear.
Every night as Hermione cried herself to sleep Harry couldn't suppress the intense hatred he now felt for Ron. Ron left both of his best friends, one of whom was the girl he supposedly was in love with. If Ron was so in love with Hermione then he should have been able to stay simply for her sake alone. However, that was not the case seeing that both Harry and Hermione had just narrowly escaped death in Godric's Hollow without any help from Ron. All things considering it was truly because of Hermione that they both managed to survive. Harry was also feeling guilty that he had gotten so angry at Hermione for the destruction of his reliable holly and Phoenix feather wand. He knew that Hermione had not intended for her spell to rebound.
Hermione was currently taking the first watch of the night as she had insisted that Harry need more rest after the incident at Godric's Hollow two days prior. Harry sat up in his bunk and looked in the direction of Hermione who was sitting just outside the tent. She was pouring over Rita Skeeter's infamous book the Life and Times of Albus Dumbledore. Harry couldn't help but smile, an action that the muscles in his face didn't seem to have recollection of ever performing. It was quite amusing that Hermione was so eager to read any new material she could get her hands on that she would read a book by an author she had despised for the past three years.
Harry got up and hesitantly walked toward the open tent flap. Hermione smiled weakly at him as he sat next her. Fresh snow was falling and the the already thick blanket that covered the forest floor was accumulating. Hermione closed the book and looked out into the woods clearly deep in thought. Harry thought she must have been looking for any sign of Ron's return and his anger flared up yet again. However as he looked at her he was relieved to see that her face was no longer tear stained and her eyes were not misty but simply thoughtful. Harry was smiling again because Hermione looked like she did when she had just discovered a new piece of information that was vital to whatever homework assignment she was working on.
Hermione turned to find Harry looking at her and he couldn't hide his smile quick enough.
"What?" she asked him but she was now smiling too.
"Nothing. You just look like your old self is all," Harry replied still smiling. Hermione's smile faded as she looked back out into the woods. Harry felt a surge of panic fearing that he had said something to upset her. Still looking amongst the trees, Hermione grabbed Harry's hand and entwined her fingers with his. Harry was taken aback by her actions but it felt as if an enormous weight was lifted from his chest by her simple gesture. Lost for words, Harry was relived when Hermione was the first to speak.

I have no words for howmuchthishurt.

"You know, Harry, I'm starting to think that Ron was right about one thing."
Neither of them had mentioned Ron since he left and his name sounded foreign. Harry was stung by her words. 'This is it,' he thought. 'She's leaving. She's going to find Ron. She's going home.'
"Hermione, I understand. You shouldn't have come with me in the first place. I've been against it from the start."
"What are you talking about, Harry?" Hermione's eyes were searching Harry's. For the first time it seemed that Hermione could not read Harry's mind.
"You're going home, aren't you? It's okay, Hermione. I think it's best if you do anyway." Harry was now on his feet. "I've caused you enough pain."
"Harry, you've got it all wrong." Hermione was now standing as well. "Ron was right. I did choose you." Hermione's next words were barely even a whisper. "Though I think I chose you a long time ago."
Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. He thought that Hermione had been in love with Ron. She had been crying since he left but now Harry understood why. She was only crying because of the loss of a friend; another betrayal in this world of insanity where trust in others is scarce. Harry and Hermione continued to move closer and closer until finally Harry felt Hermione's lips on his own. He lost all cognitive thought. Nothing else in the world mattered except Hermione. Nothing had ever mattered except Hermione. The kiss deepened and became more urgent-- desperate. After all these years the burning question of "what if" now became "what is."
Hermione broke away first and rested her forehead on Harry's and with her arms around Harry's neck as Harry wrapped his around her waist.
"I've been worrying that you were going to go find Ron and go home. I've been thankful for everyday I wake up and find that you haven't given up yet."
"Don't you understand, Harry? I'm exactly where I want to be; where I need to be. I'm with you."
Harry said the only thing he was ever sure of and the only thing that ever made sense.
"I love you, Hermione."
Hermione smiled before she kissed him one last time. Reluctantly they broke away again and Hermione retreated back into the tent. Harry heard her crying as he, too, came to the realization that "what if" and "what is" is now only "what never can be." Hermione had said Ron's name and he would now be able to find them. Ron would be filled with a false truth that Hermione had believed that "Ron was right" and that it was Ron who she preferred. In a few hours Harry would see the silver doe and so would Ron. Everything would change and Harry would have to accept that.
Harry stood outside the tent for a moment before promising: "I always will."

Thank you.

“We didn’t plan ahead,” she whispers to him.

oh no. oh man. omg. this... this...

“Because you had no idea what you were doing when you told Ron you loved me like a sister.”

OH MY GAWWWWWWWD.

i'm sorry. i can't be coherent, haha. i love this. it's so gorgeous and so perfect. beautiful.

Oh, this is lovely.

a/n: lol i've been working on this for about a week... sorry it came out so long! i really hope you like what i wrote :) thank you for the wonderful prompt--i'd never even considered this pairing before, and it's now pretty much my favorite. thanks for reading!

Minerva McGonagall didn’t make mistakes; at least, not in the traditional sense. For as long as she can remember, she’s considered every misstep she took to be a learning experience: using her time turner to pull an all nighter was not a good idea; the books in the restricted section shriek terribly; and, one should always crush sopophorous beans for use in the Draught of Living Death, never cut them.

She wasn’t terribly gifted in Potions, but Minerva was exceptional at Transfiguration. So, when Tom Riddle approached her after dinner one night in early autumn, she didn’t think much of it. Well, she did consider the inch he must’ve grown over the summer, the careful coif of his brown hair, and the way his dark eyes never left her green ones. She liked that. Minerva also liked that, though many of the boys in her own year insisted on staying frustratingly juvenile, Tom seemed especially old for fifteen.

Minerva had seen Tom in the hallways. Well-liked and well-known, she had heard plenty of him (of his sad childhood in an orphanage and of some vicious rumors circulating of a mean streak, but no one she considered rational believed the latter), but had never done much more than half smile as a return to his slight nod as they passed in the halls. Minerva quickly found that accounts of his charm were slightly underrated. Tom was a surprisingly quick learner, easily adjusting to account for her suggestions.

One Saturday morning in October, he complimented her emerald hair ribbon, commenting that it accentuated the loveliness of her eyes. She felt her cheeks grow hot, and hoped that the flush that the cold air lent to her face masked it. That was the day Tom first managed to successfully perform a partial vanishing spell. It was the first time Minerva had seen him smile. (It was the first time she thought off-handedly that the green in his Slytherin uniform would look nice with her eyes.)

She kissed him in November. Minerva, euphoric after making high marks on her latest Potions endeavor, found that Tom was who she most wanted to tell. She kissed him fiercely through the seasons’ change; she was seventeen and thought she’d live forever.

This is breathtaking. I love it.

It's savage and beautiful to the wolves' eyes, the marks of mating and trust and violence.

Savage and beautiful indeed.

Minerva McGonagall didn’t make mistakes, but realized she was incorrect in assuming that she and her classmates were invincible. The Chamber was opened; she went to each funeral, though she didn’t know every victim personally. Tom didn’t understand; he’d never had a family, never been acquainted with love, but Minerva thought it’d be wrong to avoid paying her respects, though the flowers she conjured were often quickly overtaken by the frost.

For reasons unknown to her, Tom still believed—-no, knew-—he’d live forever. She asked him once, why he was so sure the Basilisk (she hissed the word) wouldn’t be around the next corner waiting for him. He hissed back and she knew immediately; a Parselmouth. He promised her that she’d made the right decision, befriending him, that he’d keep her safe. This was the first time the sparkle in his eyes seemed to Minerva to glint like the cold silver of congealing unicorn blood.

As the killings continued, she saw Tom less and less (he told her he was getting better at Transfiguration, and no longer needed a tutor; their hallway trysts continued, but at a lesser rate), and rumors of the Ministry’s plan to shut Hogwarts down ran through the halls unchecked. Minerva caught sight of Tom shortly after that poor Ravenclaw first year was found: he seemed paler than ever. She supposed that the idea of mortality may have finally caught up with him.

Then Rubeus Hagrid was expelled.

She caught him in a dungeon hallway; he pressed her against the cold wall and kissed her with all the fervor and fiery possessiveness that a sixteen year old boy ought not to know.

“I know what you did,” she sputtered when he came up for air. “It was you, wasn’t it? Rubeus wouldn’t hurt a fly!”

Even years later, she was thankful that he counted her smart enough not to lie to her. Tom stepped back, momentarily looking as if he’d been struck. He had always been resilient; he recovered.

“No one would believe you, Minerva.” He sneered at her. It made her cheeks burn and her blood run cold. “A jilted lover, it would seem. Was it good for you?”

She balled her fists and managed to grit her teeth behind pursed lips until she was certain he was out of earshot; Minerva let the sobs overtake her for only a few minutes before drying her eyes and seeking counsel with her Transfiguration professor.

Minerva McGonagall didn’t make mistakes. She also knew when to admit she was wrong. There may have been a lesson to be had from this experience, but Minerva could only see her failure, her heartbreak, her unmistakeable mistake.

Short and sweet, I like it. Well done. ^^;

This is brilliant, I love it.

Oh. Oh.

This was perfect, and yet so bittersweet.

Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger, I never loved nobody fully / Always one foot on the ground

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Page 103 of 116

HARRY POTTER NON-CANON SHIPS COMMENT FICATHON

"Five Aces"

no subject

Re: Harry/Hermione, I Would, pg-13, PART 2/2

"I promise"

no subject

Re: Harry/Cedric, Two Boys Living, pg-13 2/2

Instinct

Re: "I promise"

Re: "I promise"

Re: Harry/Hermione - Haunted

Re: Harry/Hermione - folded up like paper dolls and little notes

no subject

Misunderstandings

Re: Harry/Hermione - And love too will ruin us

Re: Misunderstandings

Re: harry/hermione - we're sorry for the iron shoes we nailed to you

Re: Harry/Hermione - Haunted

Re: ron weasley/mary cattermole ; photographs ; pg

Minerva McGonagall/Tom Riddle, "Learning Curve" (1/2)

Re: Remus/Sirius - My Blood Is Singing With Your Voice

Minerva McGonagall/Tom Riddle, "Learning Curve" (2/2)

Re: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin-Daybreak

Re: Severus Snape/Petunia Evans - Close

Re: tell me death will be alright. sirius/lily/james.

no subject