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!

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Harry/Hermione - children hold your mistake up, hold your mistake up before they turn the summer into dust

Harry/Hermione - children don't grow up, our bodies get bigger but our hearts get torn up

OH, I just love Harry and Luna together. This is great, thanks.

Here is my story! Sorry, it was too long to actually post in the comment box.... Dreaming Out Loud (http://http://lilybeth84.livejournal.com/1864.html)

ugh, sorry the link doesn't work, and I can't edit it! Here it is again:
Dreaming Out Loud (http://lilybeth84.livejournal.com/1864.html)

Not a day has gone by that he hasn't thought about her.

She was his first, his last, and the only girl he ever loved. They came from different worlds; he was the plucky child of martyrs, his parents heroes for their actions during Voldemort's first reign of terror. She was a spoiled, selfish princess—the daughter of a Death Eater—who thought only of herself. They were so incompatible it was almost comedic.

She was his secret. A friendship forged outside the bonds of their Hogwarts houses, after hours in abandoned classrooms. She was unlike any other girl he'd ever known; she wasn't bubbly and perky like Lavender, diligent in her studies like Hermione, or flirtatious and coy like Lavender. She was haughty, demanding, and prissy, and Neville was surprised to find out that he liked it.

He'd laid an old tartan blanket down, but the cold of the stone floor still seeped through the flimsy barrier. In the chill of the classroom, the only heat source came from their bodies, pressed up against one another as hands roamed over skin and lips slid against one another.

Her manicured nails dug into his back when he pressed between her thighs, sinking down into her welcoming heat. Neville was unable to hold back the ragged groan that fell from his lips; he'd never known, never imagined it would feel like this-- sohotsogood.

Breathy moans filled the room as the slap of skin against skin punctuated their coupling. And all too soon, he cried out as he spilled into her perfect body, thrusting his last against her damp skin. His mind was blissfully empty, drained in a post-coitus haze—so drained that he never realized she hadn't come as well.

After the war, there were hearings; the public cried out for blood, and an overwhelming anti-pureblood demagogy swept throughout Britain. He survived the political backlash, as did others like him—purebloods who'd fought for the Order, but she wasn't so lucky. The daughter of a Death Eater—a deceased Death Eater, since her father had fallen during the Battle of Hogwarts—and known pureblooded bigot, the Wizengamot was all too happy to sentence her in her father's place.

It didn't matter to them that she'd never committed a crime, had never taken the Dark Mark. She was wealthy, pure, and had ties to the Dark Lord. It was enough to condemn her.

All throughout it, though, Neville never stopped thinking of her. The smell of her skin—freesias— and the softness of her hair, the touch of her lips against his. He'd never told her how much he thought about her… or what he felt for her. There had never been time.

She was conceited, arrogant, and spoiled.

And he loved her.

That was what brought him to Azkaban, the daunting prison out on a rock in the middle of the North Sea. For too long, he'd sat on the sidelines and watched "justice" handed down to the deserving parties, but not once had he opened his mouth in protest. She didn't deserve to be here anymore than he deserved her. But not for naught was he a noble Gryffindor, grasping onto a fool's hope that she would forgive him.

He could hear the waves crashing into the rocks below, the wind howling outside as he followed the guard down the long, drafty corridor. The dementors were gone, but the sense of misery and despair still hung in the cold air. It was the longest walk of Neville's life, the journey from the tiny boat to her cell.

When they stopped and the guard rapped on the bars with his stick, Neville wanted to grab it and throw it out a window. She wasn’t a dog to be treated as such, but he knew his words would've been wasted. The guards didn't care what he thought, even if he was a war hero and friend of The Boy Who'd Lived. But thankfully, this one had agreed to give him a bit of privacy.

As Neville knelt down on the cold stone floor, he felt a pang in his heart at the sight within the cell. She was pale, even more so than she normally was, and her normally shiny black hair was limp and dull. The grey and black Azkaban robes hung loosely on her frame, and when she moved her hands, he could see that her nails were ragged—as if she'd been biting them.

But when she looked up at him, her eyes were just as he remembered; still pale blue and full of fire. It was comforting to see it there, as if maybe, just maybe, the girl he loved was still there. Swallowing hard, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"Hello, Pansy."

Aw, Neville's such a good guy. (I think I say that every time you write him).

I really like your descriptions of Pansy here, the difference between what Neville remembers of her and how she is presently. I hope there's a bit of the girl he loved there too. ♥

Cedric Diggory/Luna Lovegood
I've been sleeping for forty days and /
yeah, I know I'm sleeping 'cause this dream's too amazing /
she's got gold doorknobs where her eyes used to be, yeah /
one turn and I learn what it really means to see

Edited 2010-12-04 01:10 (UTC)

Wow, that was really well written! I love the characterizations, too. :)

Cedric/Luna
you're gonna get me beaten. Or arrested.

Pansy/Ron
Not recommended before playing Quidditch

The war had ended for almost a year, the prophecy was fulfilled, the Chosen One defeated Voldemort but the aftermath was not quite what he has expected.
Somewhere along the lines, life lost its script and it went its own way: unpredictable, messy, real.

He had always thought that after the war he would have come back to Ginny, be happy with her, maybe start something deeper. He thought Ron and Hermione would have gotten engaged, and he thought they’d all celebrate.

But one year later, not a single of these things had come true.

Sure there were celebration for the victory, but they were tainted with the blood of all the innocents who lost their lives in the fight. The Weasleys still mourn Fred; Teddy is an orphan, and he still misses his owl.

Ron and Hermione tried to make it work, it took them six months to realize that they were going no where; they only kept pushing each other to the edges at the point where they were on each other’s nerves. Still their relationship is not what it used to be.

Harry and Ginny ended even worse: last week Harry finally put the nail in the coffin of their relationship. It was not what he remembered or wanted and even less what he needed. She couldn’t get him, she couldn’t understand why he was the way he was. She couldn’t see the invisible scars, none of them could.

Maybe only Hermione could. But it’s always been like that between them, they don’t need words, in some kind of cosmic way they just get each other.

He needed to get away so after his last fight with Ginny he simply disappeared on a grief tour: he went to the cafè when he and his friends were attacked, he went to Hogwarts to pay his respect to Dumbledore, and he went to the Forrest of Dean to remember how easily it felt to be around Hermione, only her.

The last stop was Godric’s Hollow, he needed to see his parents’ grave one more time.
Deep down he knows he’s acting like a spoiled brat, disappearing off the face of the earth without so much as a note or an owl, but he felt like falling into this dark hole and he didn’t want to drag them down with him.

He is walking toward the grave he is looking for, ready to make flowers appear for his parents when he notices that a wreath of Christmas roses are already there.

He looks up to see his best friend waiting for him, she’s half smiling, half tearing up, and he hurries his pace to catch up with her. When he’s close enough she hugs him tightly.

“Sorry I disappeared like that” is the first thing he says.

She doesn’t really let go of him when she replies “I should axe your ass for being such a brat but now is not the time”, he nods and lets the hug get through him.

After a minute she loses her grip and they both turn toward the grave, silence getting the best of them.

Harry fights the tears, after all this time the fact that his parents are dead still affects him deeply, he’s eighteen years old and alone in the world.

Well maybe not completely alone judging from the person next to his arm.

(tbc)

She finally breaks the silence “Harry, you scared me so much. Last week I got up and you were gone. I waited the whole day and you didn’t come back. Everybody told me not to worry, but I couldn’t help to.”

He can’t look her into the eyes, they’re too watery from her own tears, he removes his arm from her grip to put it around her shoulders and hold her close.

“I’ve searched for you for a week Harry. I went everywhere but you weren’t in any of those places. Then it hit me. Today is Christmas’ Eve and I knew you’d be here” she finishes her tale.
“I didn’t want to scare you Hermione, I’m sorry, but I needed to get away. I felt like I was falling into this dark, empty hole…”

“And I’d have caught you, Harry. Whenever you feel like falling, I will always be there to catch you, call you back from the darkness” she said tenderly caressing him on the cheek.

“I should know better by now, shouldn’t I?” he cracks up with a half smile.

“Yes, you should. But even when you don’t, I’ll remember you.”

Harry feels his heart beat faster, the need to brush the snow out of her hair, the scent of her perfume getting through his nostrils, he takes in the beauty of this moment.

“You’ll always be there, won’t you, Herm?”

“Always” she softly replies raising her wand, moving it in a circle through the air and making something appear over their heads.

It takes a few seconds for Harry to recognize it: mistletoe.

“I didn’t know wizards had such mugglish traditions” he says, trying to test the waters.

“They don’t. But you and I are not only wizards. This is a tradition for us, isn’t it?” she asks, bravely taking a step closer.

He closes the distance and softly kisses her, she tastes like vanilla, snow, and Christmas. She tastes exactly what his body craves for.

“Merry Christmas Hermione” he tenderly says.

“Merry Christmas Harry” she replies putting her head on his chest and letting him wrap in a hug.

(fin.)

I got recc'd by the h/hr community, so no one here knows me (oh hai), but I wanted to just say: the last line of this brought tears to my eyes. Uuuugh so so good.

♥

Ohhh wow, that was heart breaking/mind blowing.

So this is the third fic in a row that has made me start to bawl. Tonight has become oh so very masochistic. Thank you for this beautiful writing.

This slayed me. <3 x forever.

Thank you. :)

Thanks! :)

When she is five, she punches him in the mouth and licks the blood off her knuckles. It tastes exactly like hers when she bites her lip.

He looks at her for a quick, begrudging moment and then punches back.

She puts her hand up to her eye. "You can't hit a girl."

"You en't one. You're just my sister."

-

They grow up with bulls and half-naked youths painted on their walls.

They grow up sneaking onto each other's mattresses, warming cold feet between barely less cold thighs.

Every year it get just a little warmer. Every year her ankles sneak a bit higher, bone and joint settling above the knees and climbing up inch by inch.

He groans in his sleep. He groans out of his sleep. Every now and again she digs her elbows into his back just to hear his sharp, wordless replies. The sounds he makes, the gamut of them.

Midnight chimes and his fingers are blunt between her legs, not looking where he touches. She hisses and he snorts a low laugh into the air between them.

The delineations of his body are so much like hers, she is anxious to make them different—to mark him as something else, to touch and remind them both a thousand times of the pieces they don't share. Their asymmetries fit into something more symmetrical than either of them manage on their own.

Night after night she journeys in trying to break it. When morning rises in pale thin streaks outside their window it finds her chin tucked into his shoulder, her teeth, small and square, marking his neck.

-

Their parents tell them they are destined for greatness. "Make us proud," they say to him, and she says "I will" even before he can.

They hadn't been talking to her, but she has always taken the proclivity to taste his words same as him.

If he'll be great she'll be great, if not—

She doesn't tell him any of this. When their parents leave the room to them, they clasp hands behind the close of the door without sparing a glance toward each other. They've never had to look to link.

-

The marks they make, they mirror. They meet the world as two halves; they meet it whole.

O.M.G. *sobs*

omg this was unbelievable.

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Page 99 of 116

HARRY POTTER NON-CANON SHIPS COMMENT FICATHON

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Harry/Luna-Dreaming Out Loud (PG)

Re: Harry/Luna-Dreaming Out Loud (PG)

Son Of A Martyr | Neville Longbottom/Pansy Parkinson (PG-13) | (1/2)

Son Of A Martyr | Neville Longbottom/Pansy Parkinson (PG-13) | (2/2)

Re: Son Of A Martyr | Neville Longbottom/Pansy Parkinson (PG-13) | (2/2)

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Re: Lucius/Hermione - Hating Men That Smoke

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Harry/Hermione - Light of Christmas

Re: Harry/Hermione - Light of Christmas

Re: The Best Story

Re: our lives run parallel (impossible without each other but useless if we merge) | hermione/luna |

Re: held in chains; harry/hermione, pg-13

Re: harry/hermione -- this bird has flown

Re: This Bell Tolls For You

Re: Blaise Zabini/Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter-Saint Potter

Re: Fred Weasley/George Weasley-Burden

Re: Ron Weasley/Luna Lovegood-Wonder

blood is thicker | alecto/amycus

Re: The Best Story

Re: This Bell Tolls For You