anythingbutgrey | 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!

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Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

corleones.livejournal.com

Thank you! Your prompt was amazing and I could not let it sit.

From:

eleusis-walks.livejournal.com

i liked it fine, but i was a piaf fan before it ;)

From:

corleones.livejournal.com

Glad to have helped with that!

From: (Anonymous)

--

Ginny has never seen Tom’s face. Even now that she remembers all of it, everything, clicking into place, she knows that much at least. But she can still hear his slippery-smooth and charming voice in her head, can still trace his loopy handwriting in her mind. It’s been ages since she last saw it, but it’s easier than it should be to slip into memory.

“Harry will always think of me as Ron’s kid sister,” she writes in her diary, laying flat on her stomach on her bed. It’s only a few months into her first year and she’s gotten nothing more than a few friendly waves from the school’s hero.

“You are more than that, Ginny,” Tom writes back, his handwriting strong and sure. “Harry would be a fool not to know the prize he’s got in front of him.”

Tom is always so kind, so reassuring. Sometimes Ginny thinks that she wouldn’t spend another second thinking about Harry if Tom came to meet her finally. He talks about wanting to see her sometimes but she doesn’t know when.

She imagines that he’ll be tall, broad-shouldered, a protector. He could walk her to classes and even the older girls would be jealous. He’d be too much of a gentleman to kiss her in front of her classmates, but they’d know anyway that he would want to just from the look on his face.

“Where do you live?” Ginny asks once, after a long, hard day where she’d let herself wish that Tom was there. “Can you come to visit?”

The diary's page stays blank for a few minutes. “I go to school very far away,” Tom finally answers. “But Ginny, if I could, I’d come visit you tomorrow.”

Ginny is enraptured by this. She pictures him riding up to the castle in one of the carriages and literally sweeping her off her feet.

Tom doesn’t mention it often, but she knows that he cares about her too. He’s more than just a patient ear. She’s never been just a kid to Tom. She knows that maybe it won’t go anywhere, she thinks she’ll always consider Tom her first love.

--

Ginny bolts up in her bed. It’s hard to reconcile the image of Tom, her caring and patient crush, with Lord Voldemort.

Secretly, Ginny hopes she will never have to fight in the war. She wouldn’t mind fighting Death Eaters, but she’s scared to think of how she’ll react if she finally sees the face of Tom Marvolo Riddle.

_{I meant for this to be much shippier and less angsty. Sorry about that!}

From:

suprockstar.livejournal.com

Cho Chang/Draco Malfoy, it's only love if you call it that. But it's real.

From:

iambickilometer.livejournal.com

OH HEY JUST WANT TO BUTT IN AND SAY ME TOO, DUDE. THE THOUGHT OF SPLITTING THEM UP JUST MAKES ME SO SAD.

From:

zauberer-sirin.livejournal.com

Lucius Malfoy/Ginny Weasley(/Voldemort), she is the Dark Lord's, of course, but Lucius has been chosen to break her before Voldemort claims her.

From:

thornyrose42.livejournal.com

Thank you!

From:

whensheflies.livejournal.com

OMG I have such a soft spot for Sirius/Lily. And sexy boys with cigarettes. PERFECTION!

From:

softly-me.livejournal.com

YOU ARE THE BEST! Oh, this was hot. Wonderfully written, interesting charecterization, and soooo hot. I love Ginny being all badass and threatening him (wand in the throat, nice move). Plus, sexy kisses that they pretend didn't happen. And I loved Blaise trying not to think she's hot and failing so miserably. Completely awesome. Love this ship. Love you. The end.

From:

zauberer-sirin.livejournal.com

You wouldn't think so – because she is very good at turning away, and very good at training herself not to listen too closely – but every time somebody says his name (and those moments never go unnoticed because saying his name has power in itself) Ginny feels it. The first two, three times she flinched. Voldemort and the school corridors fill with its whisper. It's just a name just a name just a name she repeats but of course it's not. No name is just a name. (Tom taught you that.) And this name is less of a just a name than any other Ginny has ever heard.

(Ginevra, Tom calls her, you know what having that name means, don't you, Ginny?

No. What does it means?

It means you'll betray the hero of this story.

But Ginny looks into Tom's dark and pure eyes and, who is the hero of the story? she wonders.)

Of course it matters. This is the name Tom chose for himself. Tom who defied fate the same way Voldemort embraces it. Only Ginny seems to know the difference and she keeps it in her pocket, a secret because there's a sick delight in thinking you know nothing about him. Of course it matters because Voldemort is not just a name it is the absence of Tom. Only Ginny realizes this – it makes her feel special. (like Tom did, or maybe he never stopped)

And they say how Harry Potter feels it every time the Dark Lord kills someone.

Ginny feels it every time old, perpetually-young-and-golden Tom Riddle still breathes inside the simple carcass that is Voldemort. Whatever it is – the last traces of a soul, or maybe her own delusion – it will not let go off her. The Ginny she is now is not the Ginny that was Tom's then. Never mind, she is still Tom's. That Ginny and this Ginny, they have that in common.

There's a reason for this. When Tom said forever he meant it.

(her skeleton will lie in the chamber forever and it has always sounded like a promise to her, even though she wrote it herself)

That has not has changed; all around her edges Ginny is aware of the words – the name – and it's as if she is still waiting.

But then he realizes: Harry is part of that too, there's a part of Harry that, like her, will always slip away from him, she understands this, she is drawn to this. Harry is part of the Dark Lord through prophecy and blood and will.

Then the war starts and everybody learns to say his name, they practice to keep away the fear. voldemort voldemort voldemort voldemort voldemort they go.

Ginny mimics them but under her breath she always says tom tom tom.

(it means you will betray–

Ginny has already made her choice. There was no choice.)

Edited Date: 2010-11-25 01:21 am (UTC)

From:

whensheflies.livejournal.com

nnnngh. such a soft spot for this pairing! Someone better write this!

From:

caitieness.livejournal.com

Just as friends, he says, as he awkwardly rubs the back of his neck and stares at the ground. Lavender giggles and agrees. Just as friends, she repeats and Seamus ventures a look up and he sees the smile playing around her pink lips. More than anything, he's scared.

---

They meet in the common room and she's gorgeous. She glides down the stairways and Seamus can't take his eyes off the way the candlelight flickers across her features. Her curls bounce with turn of her head as she greets almost every person they pass. They all gush over her outfit and her hair and Parvati even waved politely to Seamus as she flew passed him. Seamus hardly takes note of anything going around him, yet he manages to catch Dean's eye once they enter the Great Hall and he swears he sees Dean wink. Bastard.

---

The Champions dance. The professors follow suit soon after. Then the students. Seamus sees Neville and Ginny swirl by, like they had paid attention when McGonagall was teaching the Gryffindors to dance. Shyly, Seamus glanced as Lavender, her eyes are gleaming. He gently takes her hand and, with all the courage he'll ever muster, he pulls at her. "Dance with me, Lavender." She follows.

---

They stop only when she's exhausted and Lavender takes her leave of her date - probably to find Parvarti. Seamus finds the nearest seat and leans back. He waits. He drinks a cup of water. When Lavender finds him, he doesn't feel like much time has gone by. She quickly grabs both of his hands and smiles brightly. "Come dance with me, Seamus!"

---

At the end of the night, they walk up the stairs towards the Gryffindor Tower together. But they only make it halfway there when Seamus sees Parvarti waiting on the nearest landing. She covers her mouth in an obvious giggle and Lavender whips her head around to face Seamus, curls streaming in the candlelight.

"I had fun, Seamus," she says and with a quick peck on the cheek, she rushes off to join her best friend. Seamus follows some moment after. He takes his time getting to the Common Room. He feels like he's floating. Somehow he makes it up to his room, where he promptly throws himself on to his bed.

A moment (or it could have been a year) later, he hears footsteps. Then the mattress next to him sinks as Dean sits next to him. "What's up with you?" he asks.

"I think I'm in love," Seamus responds, lifting his fingers to his cheek. "She's amazing."

Dean snorts, stands up and makes his way to his own bed. "You're mental."

From:

whensheflies.livejournal.com

Scabior ~~the hot snatcher~~/Hermione; your face, it haunts my once pleasant dreams

From:

forsanethaec.livejournal.com

The first fire of the winter when Regulus is seventeen comes early and feels cold. He lights it by himself in the kitchen where the chill creeps in the quickest and remembers Sirius, how when he still lived here this would be his favorite time of the holiday, the first fire, how it lit the room and threw his little smile into warm relief.

He wonders what Sirius would say if he could see him now, a year out from his Mark and two from Sirius’ going, and winding down. He thinks how he could tell him: I’m going to be a traitor, Sirius. I thought you’d like that. If only there was more time. But he’s thought that too often in this short and rapidly shortening life of his, despite the times when he’s despaired in the certainty that his life is also the longest thing he’ll ever do. It could be longer, though, and it won’t be. He’s seeing to that himself.

Though it’s worth it – isn’t it? He pulls his knees up to his chest in the wing-backed armchair beside the fireplace and watches his fire crackle halfheartedly, a harbinger of the season, the first really inescapable indicator that warmth is over and snow will follow soon. Strange, this listlessness; Sirius never taught him how to die. That’s not something that’s in his brother’s oeuvre, he thinks, dying. No, that always seemed more to be Regulus’ specialty. Though he’s upon it now and he has absolutely no idea what to do.

The knowledge that they’ll remember him as a coward rises in his mind like fog, and, finding nothing it can cling to, dissipates. He’s forfeited his chance to be remembered any other way – though he wishes Sirius could know something, could be chased by the spectre of him in some way other than this, a way more solid, with purchase and finality. He’s read in the old poets what happens to unburied men.

The fire tails down; he goes upstairs to the tapestry room and touches two fingertips to the ashy spot where Sirius used to be. His skin comes away grey and crumbling, and that’s all he has left to do. It’s a little warmer up here, but outside he knows it will be the coldest of all.

His cloak on, Kreacher in the hall, the locket curled in his fist. He looks at the charred remnant of Sirius’ branch again, looks at his own intact, and closes his eyes. Once against this spot Sirius had kissed him, touched his thin chest, left a mark with his tongue and teeth in the cool hollow of Regulus’ throat – but it’s almost laughable to think about that at this moment, of all the god damned moments. Upstairs their bedrooms are both shut up now. There are ghosts in this house, and at times he thinks Sirius has joined their ranks, thinks he hears him on the stairs or feels his hand on his arm in the night.

As ghosts go, though, this won’t be his place to haunt. The tin-mosaic ceiling in the hall is mottled with rust. He sets his hand on the doorknob, and as he goes asks of no one, asks of Sirius, look back on me.