HARRY POTTER NON-CANON SHIPS COMMENT FICATHON

[anythingbutgrey]

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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:

<center><a href=http://anythingbutgrey.livejournal.com/774727.html>HARRY POTTER NON-CANON SHIPS COMMENT FICATHON</A></center>

<center><a href=http://anythingbutgrey.livejournal.com/774727.html><img src=IMAGE CODE HERE></A></center>

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:

by eleusis_walks

by 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!

Comments

Re: sirius/regulus - helplessly hoping (2/2)

[forsanethaec.livejournal.com]

thanks! omg, a spaced fan? i think i love you.

and then there is all this tension, because I am a big fan of Remus/Sirius as well, and having them the last people in that dueling scene, just ugh.

i know right? i had fun putting remus in this. uh oh, now you've given me thoughts of expanding on it...wow, i think i may do nothing but write fanfiction for the rest of my life.

Re: Parvati/Charlie; things that make you feel better

[ceridweyn-lin.livejournal.com]

THAT SOUNDS LIKE A PLAN. And even better I can't remember Charlie being paired up with some random person by an interview post-DH, meaning there is like free range for some all-out crazy shipping here, not that that would stop anything. I may be poking around to see if there's any more fic right now.

[afigureofspeech.livejournal.com]

THIS SONG IS PERFECTION. I APPROVE. :D

Re: Parvati/Charlie; things that make you feel better

[eleusis-walks.livejournal.com]

Personally I usually like reading Charlie as gay because he is the only confirmed bachelor of the Weasley clan but I am so down with Parvati/Charlie I can't even tell you. We will just create this ship by ourselves, it's cool.

harry/hermione - the thing to do (1/2)

[corduroygrooves.livejournal.com]

ahhh! disclaimer: I haven't written fic in ages, and I'm not sure this is what you were looking for at all, but uh. here it is anyway! thanks for the awesome prompt.


Joy is not supposed to be something they ration anymore—it’s been years now—but Harry finds the habit hard to break. No one who knows war can believe in the end of it.

For Harry, even little things, like openly eating birthday cake, are still novel. He cannot imagine that their love for him, not a little thing at all, will ever stop feeling novel. And he loves them back, both of them, beyond the telling of it, so their wedding has all the lavish trappings of peacetime happiness. He plans it for them, and he pays—his gift, he tells them. Please let me, he says.

Ron refuses to let him, wants to wait until he’s saved up enough. He holds out for months, ignoring anyone who says anything, until finally he and Hermione have a screaming row about it. It’s not about money at all, the row, and they all know it. But Ron concedes eventually—too in love with Hermione to do anything else, Harry imagines.

Harry consults Kreacher, and Ginny and Mrs Weasley both insist on helping, too, but he does most of the work himself. Rita Skeeter would make it out to be something sordid—LOVELORN HERO PLANS VICARIOUS WEDDING! SEE INSIDE THE BETRAYAL OF THE TRINITY! GUILT AND MASOCHISM APLENTY!—but really it isn’t like that. It isn’t big enough to be like that.

It’s a quiet thing, undramatic. She’s brilliant, god, so brilliant and so beautiful in every conceivable way, so competent and sure even when she doesn’t want to be, and he wants so badly for her to be happy. It seems like the least he can do.

He does think about it sometimes, while he’s planning. He chooses a pure venue for them, one not saturated with the shadows of war or filled with still-echoing hatred, and it’s impossible not to think about it. They would have married in the Forest, maybe. They might have never married. They might have carved themselves out a world they could stand.

Everything would have been just a notch different, but somehow it would have changed everything. He reminds himself that love is the constant across these worlds, these choices, and that this is something to be grateful for.

harry/hermione - the thing to do (2/2)

[corduroygrooves.livejournal.com]

They only openly acknowledge it once (outside of Ron’s head, where it is always acknowledged). It is the night before their wedding, and he and Hermione are drinking silent tea in the Warren’s cramped kitchen.

Hermione keeps trying to carry on ordinary conversation, but her mind is so far from one-track as to be a bloody railway terminus.

“Work,” she says apologetically, waving an absent gesture about her head, after breaking off mid-sentence to grab parchment and quill.

“Tell me,” he says. He doesn’t mean to sound plaintive, but he is not fearless. Though he’s all right with not being the one chosen this time, to give her up to keep them both, only to lose these vital parts of her that she shares with him—that would be the unbearable thing.

After a pause, she says quietly, “Harry,” obviously no longer thinking of laws and creature rights. “I’m getting married tomorrow. To Ron.”

“You’ve never been one to say what’s already obvious to everyone else,” he says, dry.

“I suppose not, but—” She bites her lip and looks at him, and he thinks she too sees that what will happen tomorrow was not ever, is not now inevitable. “But maybe it needs to be said sometimes. The obvious, I mean. So many people ignore it completely! I mean, just look at the historical resistance to all kinds of perfectly self-evident—”

He laughs, suddenly sure that they’ll never really lose each other. Through his laughter, he manages, “You’re right, of course. Just look at S.P.E.W.”

She looks over at him, equal parts indignance and fond amusement, and he grabs her hand, warm from wrapping around her charmed mug, across the table. They both look down at their clasped hands, and she gently rubs her thumb over the words I must not tell lies.

“I love you, Harry James Potter, and that’s the truth.”

He couldn’t have heard that even a few years ago; he still struggles to hear it now. But this is important. If he ever has to condense himself into a vial of ephemeral memories, better this, better the world in full color than the world confined to negative space, to lack.

Maybe he is not as happy as he could be; maybe he doesn’t have his heart’s desire. But he knows war and death and emptiness, and he doesn’t think this is a world where he’s allowed it, anyway. Most days he is fine with this, his consequent.

And then there are some days when he thinks that majority does not always rule, most is not always most powerful—but he knows war, and this only makes him more certain that if he is not doing precisely what he wants, he is at least doing what he must.

Re: it's called the life effect (2/2) - ginny/neville - pg-13

[coffee-n-cocoa.livejournal.com]

Oh, my heart. I adore this! Neville/Ginny has been my OTP ever since the fifth book, and it's so nice to know I'm not the only one!

Re: it&#39;s called the life effect (2/2) - ginny/neville - pg-13

[anythingbutgrey.livejournal.com]

HAHAHA YOUR ICON

On the Outside, Looking in -- Pansy/Theo PG-13

[gelsey.livejournal.com]

Theodore Nott was always the outsider. Throughout school, he was used to being on the outside, looking in. It had been so his entire life. He stood on the fringes of his family—the youngest by a large margin, the oopsy child, the quiet one amid the zealous, ambitious believers. In Hogwarts, he stood on the sidelines, watching his classmates, never quite fitting into any of their social circles, never quite believing in their ideals or participating in their fun.

In the past, Pansy had disdained him. She had neglected him. She had occasionally pushed him around. She had even pitied him, once or twice, when she’d seen him bury himself in another book when someone made a particularly cutting remark.

That was before she found herself ostracized for daring to say what everyone else had thought that fateful night of battle. She found herself snubbed in the streets, found her betrothal contract with Draco torn up on her doorstep, found shops closing as she tried to enter them.

She found herself on the street, no longer welcome in her family’s home—a home she had always depended on, always loved. But even her little brother looked at her with wide, disappointed eyes that no longer wished to claim her as part of his life.

Rain cascaded down from the leaden skies, a pure reflection of her mood. She could have cast a spell to stay dry, but she didn’t see the point anymore. At least the rain hid the tears. She ducked under the eaves of a shop, not even bothering to see which one, knowing that if she made a move to go inside she would simply be shunned.

You did not offer up the Boy Who Lived, Savior of the Wizarding World, on a platter to the worst wizard of her lifetime. Especially when that wizard proceeded to lose to that boy.

The door of the shop opened, golden light spilling from it to puddle forlornly at her feet. Pansy ducked her head and moved to the side, hoping whoever passed wouldn’t make her leave. But no one passed, and no one said a word, until finally her curiosity made Pansy look up.

Theodore Nott stood in the door of the shop, his dark eyes quiet and contemplative as he looked at her. It was Flourish and Blotts, she realized, and she remembered that some old branch of his family had been related to one of those names. He must have inherited.

“Well?” Theo said finally, his quiet word nearly lost in the sound of the rain. “Are you going to come in or not?” he asked.

Pansy stared at him, wide-eyed.

“Come on,” he said, extending his hand to her. “You don’t have to stay outside. Please, come in.”

Trembling from cold and kindness, Pansy hesitantly slipped her hand into his and allowed him to lead her inside.



A/N: I have such a soft spot for these two together. <3

Re: harry/hermione - the thing to do (2/2)

[sweet-iolanthe.livejournal.com]

go right ahead and break it. break my heart.

They would have married in the Forest, maybe. They might have never married. They might have carved themselves out a world they could stand.

THEY WOULD'VE. AND WHY ARE THEY ALL ABOUT LOYALTY AND LOVE AND MUST DO OVER WANT TO. AND FEELINGS. UGH.

SO MANY FEELINGS. AND THEIR HANDS.

iloveit.

Re: Parvati/Charlie; things that make you feel better

[ceridweyn-lin.livejournal.com]

I never read him that way but it's interesting when thought about, especially as I am rereading the series... anyways, I think I may have to write more fic about them. This ship needs to be kickstarted.

[deadduck008.livejournal.com]

Forgive me? I just saw the movie so this came out like ANGST CITY but um, the general idea is there? And to think! This prompt immediately made me think of affair fic! DAMN YOU DAVID YATES! But enough preamble.

---------------

He doesn't remember how, but somehow they're both yelling across the distance of her living room and she's crying and no one's home and it's like that damn locket is on his neck all over again.

She collapses on a stool in the kitchen, exhausted, hair settling in a mass, shielding her eyes. Closed fists against her eyes, she starts -

"Why are we still doing this?"

He unclenches his hands, rubs his scar, unconsciously.

She turns to look at him.

"Harry?"

He can't look, can't breathe, it's always the same.

So he lies.

"I don't know."

She stands up, ever Hermione, ever in-charge, always knowing.

"Harry."

She holds his face, leaning her forehead against his.

"We weren't always like this."

It's true and it's stupid but ever since the hunt, since the wedding, since their first child and everything on top, he hasn't been able to act like anything but a fifteen year-old git.

"I'm sorry, Hermione."

She sighs, still holding his face and his hands come up to cup her elbows. He can almost smile when he asks,

"Why are you always right?"

Her smile back is broken like she knows he's avoiding the subject but she rests her head in his shoulder and for moments he just breathes. Nothing but their lungs expanding and collapsing and his eyes close, just for a second.

"Remember when we danced?"

It's a whisper in her ear and slowly, just a shuffle, he sways her weight once left, then right.

"Harry..." and her voice is warning, don't remember, and this is the fight all over again. Whatever happened without Ron didn't happen at all - the underlying currents of jealousy and a Pandora's Box that they've told themselves wasn't worth the trouble of opening.

"Harry..."

He's pulling away and smiling, almost, shaking his head and adjusting his glasses.

"You're right, of course... again."

She looks lost, hopeless, staring because again they're in the same room and lightyears apart.

"Tell Ron I say hi."

She turns back toward the living room, almost whispering her canned response,

"Tell him yourself."

Re: as hollow-point bullets, harry/hermione; pg-13

[deadduck008.livejournal.com]

OHHHHHH.

THIS.

so painful, and so raw! KILLLS ME.

THANK YOUU FOR WRITING THIS AND DOING A MARVELOUS JOB!

Re: Harry/Hermione - fill in the holes you've made. (pg-13) Part 3

[deadduck008.livejournal.com]

YES HAPPY ENDING YESSSSSSSSSSSSS EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS MAKES MY HEART SOAR.

Just perfect.

[forsanethaec.livejournal.com]

thissssss!!!!!!!

[lint138.livejournal.com]

She's at the kitchen table, steaming cup of tea cooling to her left, going over copy of the Quibbler's latest issue. Quill rapidly scratching along parchment, she doesn't look up, but says "hello Harry" with a welcoming smile. A kiss to the top of the head is his reply, hands on her shoulders as he glances at the notes she's making.

"You're upset about something," she murmurs, still focused on her work.

He drops a Daily Prophet across her notes, a picture of him kissing her cheek at yesterday's Holyhead Harpies matches gracing the front page.

"Apparently I've gone mental," he mutters, nodding toward the commentary written below.

"Have you now?" She replies, picking up the paper, her too blue eyes skimming the text. "Hmm, they can't seem to fathom why someone as famous as you would want to be with me. Interesting."

"Interesting?" He muses. "Sweetheart, they're suggesting I be locked away in St. Mungo's simply for being with you."

"A good a reason as any, don't you think?"

Finally looking up at him, lifting a hand to rest on his cheek, she can see the cloud of anger still floating in his eyes.

"They don't understand," he says, nodding at the paper. "They just-"

"Love isn't something easily understood," Luna replies, fingers stroking gently.

Truer words Harry thinks before placing his hand atop hers, eyes closing for a second before leaning down to kiss her forehead. Leave it to Luna to alleviate his anger with a simple statement, make his heart beat just a second faster, and erase all doubt that other opinions matter.

"What are you working on?" He asks.

"Nargle invasion," she replies, turning back to her article. "Wales is overrun with them."

[allthingsholy.livejournal.com]

Neville/Harry - I'm on the pursuit of happiness and I know everything that shines ain't always gonna be gold; I'll be fine once I get it, I'll be good

Bellatrix/Draco - Could you live with this? 1/2

[musyc]

GDI, I WASN'T GOING TO DO THIS ONE. Then I went and poked around and found your fanmix and a;likjsdf;lkjasdf;lkj.

-----------

He's gone to one of the crumbling towers of the Manor, gone to heal his wounds and blast the doves, their white feathers drifting down into the specks of blood dripping from his cheeks and chin. He's cursing Potter, Granger, Weasley, cursing them each with a heavy grunt as he paces and dashes the blood from his skin, and when he turns, Bella's there. She smiles at him, pointed teeth scraping over her lip, and she spins until her gown slaps his legs, and then her hands are on his cheeks and she's shoved him into the wall. That's it, Draco, she coos to him, brushing his fringe back as she comes up on her toes to meet his eyes, grey to grey. That's it. Hate them. Hate them with everything you have.

He freezes, his heart racing, because he thinks she'll know he's lied, but when she lowers her lashes and her eyes glimmer through the dark fans, he doesn't feel the cold brush of her mind across his. No Legilimency, no looking into his thoughts, only her breath on his throat and her hand on his chest and her tongue on his cheek. She's licking away the blood, his blood, their blood. The shared blood that runs through them both like the river into hell and madness, and Draco remembers one of the first lessons he ever learned.

Blood will always call to blood.

Bella's full of bloodlust and madness and she's always watching him. He's known all along that she isn't right, that something had broken inside her when she went to Azkaban, that the years on a cold island in a stone prison have shattered something in her mind. He's known all along that the soft touches to his shoulder and the firm grasp on his hand aren't the simple affections of an aunt for a nephew. He's known all along that the heat of her breath on his ear, that the press of her breast on his arm, that the weight of her gaze on his eyes isn't normal. But it's been so long since he's known what normal is that he can't bring himself to care.

Bella is licking the blood off his cheek and her breath is hot and her breasts are soft and before he can decide what to do, he's done it. He snaps his arms up and hauls her close, slams her thin body against his and bends to shove his mouth against her bloodstained lips. He tears at her mouth with the points of his teeth until her lips split and their mouths are full of blood. His blood, her blood, their blood. Her blood is hot in his mouth and her body is hot under his hands and he's been cold for so, so long.

He pushes her away and she's laughing, laughing at him, her hands cupping her breasts and her tongue slicking her lips. Draco shoves off the wall and snares her. He grabs the neckline of her dress and hauls it off her shoulders, trapping her arms against her sides. Dusk-tipped breasts are round beneath his palms, solid nipples hard in his pinching fingers. Bella laughs and frees her arms and her hands slip into his hair. She pushes the blood from his cheeks up his temples, staining the white strands with red, and she grabs fistfuls of hair to drag him to his knees. Draco swears and grabs her hips because he'll kneel for his master but for no one else. He jerks Bella down, pushes her to the floor on her belly, and clambers on top of her, grabbing her wrists. She's laughing, writhing under him, her head thrown back and her hair in his face. Her fingers stiffen like claws as she struggles and Draco slams her hands against the stones. Again and again as she bucks under him, until he feels something crack in her wrist. Bella shrieks and snaps her head back, her skull cracking against his forehead.

They Fuck You Up -- Harry/Dudley PG13

[gelsey.livejournal.com]

“Do you know what I went through, to find you here?” Dudley Dursley asked the moment the door opened.

Harry Potter’s mouth rounded into an ‘o’ of shock upon finding his cousin on his doorstep. On his doorstep, in Godric’s Hollow, surrounded by magical wards. It was, barring Hogwarts and Hogsmeade, possibly the single most unlikely place Harry would have listed if he’d ever made a list of where he didn’t expect to see Dudley.

The Boy Who Lived automatically stepped aside as the larger man walked through the door without an invitation. After the Horcrux hunt and years of Quidditch, one would think his reflexes were up to snuff, but Harry’s jaw still resided somewhere around the vicinity of the floor.

He noticed, during his gawking, that a large, unwieldy set of square glasses were perched on Dudley’s broad nose. In his head, where his conscience resided, Harry heard Hermione’s voice stating something about magical runes and spells as an explanation for the ugly contraptions.

“What are you doing here?” Harry finally said, interrupting whatever Dudley had been saying. It was a stupid question, but it was the first one able to trip off his tongue. Not “how” or “why” or even “what the fuck,” but simply, “What are you doing here?”

Dudley sat down on Harry’s sofa, for once not appearing too large for a piece of furniture. He had turned into a large man, Harry noted, but where before it had been slovenly fat, he could now see signs of care and work and self esteem.

“I couldn’t stand being around them anymore,” Dudley said quietly. Harry sat next to him. Anyone else would need another explanation for what Dudley was talking about, but Harry knew. The wonder of the wizarding world ran a hand over his forehead, rubbing his scar. He looked at the small mantle, where a picture of James and Lily Potter resided next to a small potted plant—a blooming petunia.

“Yeah. They fuck you up, your mum and dad,” Harry replied.



A/N: Um. Yeah. I have no idea why I wrote this. I hope you like it though.

Re: Bellatrix/Draco - Could you live with this? 2/2

[musyc]

Draco swears and shoves her hair aside, one hand holding her down between her shoulders, one hand wrapping around her neck. He presses on her throat, silencing her howl of pain, and bites at her nape. He scrapes teeth across her pale skin until he's dug a track into her hairline and she's gone still beneath him. Her pulse flutters madly against his fingertips and when she swallows, he can feel her throat moving against his palm. Draco sits up on his knees, straddling her hips. He's sure it would feel good, so good, to squeeze the breath from her until she's limp and vacant, but they both know where this is going and he wants her awake for it. Bella turns her head and watches him from the corner of her eye and he can see the purple span of his fingers on her throat. She smiles, flicks her tongue out to moisten the blood drying on her lip, and pulls his hand to her mouth. She kisses his fingers, bites at his knuckles, scrapes her teeth across the tendons in the back of his hand. She pushes two of his fingers into her mouth and her eyes stay on his face as she sucks on them, her hips undulating beneath him.

Draco groans, his head falling back, and Bella sucks on his fingers until her teeth are sinking into his skin. He jerks his hand free and rises up on his knees. Bella rolls under him and stretches, back arching, breasts swaying, her hair in wild tangles around her bruised throat. Draco strips off his robes and rips her skirts to her waist, movements ragged and trembling. The stones abrade his knees as he drops between her thighs, head falling between her breasts to bite and scrape at the blue-veined skin. Bella reaches between them, wraps her long fingers around his cock, pumps her fist up his length, rubs her thumb over the ridge. Draco groans again, lids fluttering, eyes rolling, and he shouts when she scrapes her nails along the underside. It's not too late, he thinks, he's still got a chance to stop this, then Bella plants her feet and lifts her hips, and it's much too late.

She guides him in and she's hot and wet, and her body grips him tight. Draco pushes to his elbows and grinds into her, face twisted up in ecstasy. He should be horrified, he should be disgusted, he should be curled on the floor in sick shame, but if this is a sickness, it's in his blood. It's in their blood, rushing through him, it's pounding at his ears and burning through his veins. Bella's hot and writhing beneath him, torn lips red, bruised throat purple, wild eyes thunder grey with lightning gleams. He shifts his weight and grabs her broken wrist, forearm to forearm, Mark to Mark.

Blood to blood.

Bella blows him a kiss and purrs and Draco picks up speed, slamming into her. She howls and she laughs and he bites at her heart, tears at the flesh while she fists his hair until his eyes water. Her laughs become moans become screams and she's convulsing under him, her body clutching him in violent spasms. She shrieks, heels drumming the stones, and her throat distends as she cries out. Minuo!

The gashes on his cheeks tear open, the breaks in her lips split apart, and they bleed as they fuck. He drives into her, fire in his veins, and he collapses, naked and breathless. Bella wraps her arms around his shoulders, wraps her legs around his hips. Sweat and tears and blood and come as she brushes his hair back while he gasps. That's it, she murmurs, and digs her nails into his spine. Well done, Draco.

[superkappa.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much for writing this for me. It was really sweet :)

[juniperlane.livejournal.com]

Harry/Neville - And in the end, we lie awake and we dream of making our escape.

The Closed Door -- Filch/Figg PG13

[gelsey.livejournal.com]

The sound of the chair scraping the linoleum floor was loud in the small kitchen as Argus Filch pulled it out to sit. Three cats sat in the doorway, watching him critically with green, yellow, and blue eyes and twitching tails. His finger tapped out a restless tattoo on the table. Mrs Norris would have taken care of these three in a heartbeat, he thought bitterly, but there was no bringing her here for this conversation.

Arabella finally slid a cup of tea in front of him and joined him at the rickety table. She didn’t really look at him, instead gazing deeply into the tea cup as if it held all the secrets of the universe.

“You said you would tell me someday,” Argus rasped. “Well, the battles have been fought and won, so’s I figure someday is finally here.”

Arabella sighed, sending ripples across her tea. “I hated to close the door on you, Argus,” she said, voice tired and empty.

“Then why?” he demanded to know. The cats’ tail twitching grew more animated.

“I had a task, Argus,” she told him. She finally met his gaze, and he noticed wrinkles he’d never seen before around her eyes and lips. “I had to care for the boy. And I knew you couldn’t do that with me. Not without hating me for making you leave the magic.”

“I could never have hated you for that. I would have done it, for you.” His eyes were hard and his hand was tight around the fragile cup.

“No,” she said sadly. “You would not have.”

This time it was Argus who walked away and closed the door behind him.


A/N: I must wonder if this actually makes any sense to anyone besides me...

[oursadhearts.livejournal.com]

Harry/Hermione - i know you have felt much more love than you've shown"

Re: Sirius Black/Andromeda Black -Dignity

[poppypickle.livejournal.com]

I love the idea of a connection between them. Lovely work!