ficsbydeenas (
ficsbydeenas) wrote2007-07-18 07:09 pm
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Entry tags:
FIC--Wallowing in Self-Pity, part five
Title: Wallowing in Self-Pity
Chapter Five
Chapter Pairing: HP/OFC
Chapter Rating: R
Summary: Too many things have gone wrong. Too many people have suffered, even though the battle is won. A self-imposed exile is all he thinks he deserves.
Note: The joke Ron tells in this section is a result of a cab ride I took with
belladonna_tb when we were in Chicago last week. The cab driver was a hoot and told us this joke. I wrote it down, and here it is...
PART FIVE
Harry called in sick every day for the next week after Christmas. It wasn't that much of a stretch, actually, since there was a nasty stomach flu going round the neighborhood, and as a delivery man, he was bound to catch something sooner or later. So instead of being sick, Harry was drinking anything he could get his hands on: lager, alcho-pop, hard liquor, wine and something called Everclear.
In one of his drinking binges, his eyes fell upon the picture that started it all, the picture of him, Ron, Hermione and Ginny, laughing together at Bill's wedding. He remembered slightly the joke that Ron had told to make them laugh.
"Why do men have a hole in the end of their penises?" Ron was a little tipsy himself, so the filter that was normally in place when he was around Hermione wasn't working.
"Ron…" Hermione warned him.
"No, Hermione, I wanna hear this!" Ginny piped in, her eyes fixed on Harry, who was barely hiding his own giggle.
"Ginny! I don't think this is an appropriate—"
"Shut up, Granger, and let him say the punch line!" Fred stood in front of them with a camera in his hand. The four of them should really have been suspicious, what with Fred standing there, but the combination of alcohol, the gaiety of the day and the promise of the punch line proved to override their fear of anything Fred could do to them.
"So tell me, Ron, why DO we have holes in the ends of our knobs?" Harry asked Ron with an enormous amount of joviality.
Ron began laughing, distorting his voice as he spoke, "S-s-s-s-so we can—so we can get air to our brains!"
Harry flung his head back as he let out a roar of laughter; Ginny kept snorting and was silently shaking, her eyes wide in astonishment; Hermione was trying valiantly to contain herself, but was failing miserably; Ron was doubled over, screeching with laughter. Fred then pressed the shutter of the camera, capturing the moment for posterity.
Inside himself, Harry felt like ripping the picture to bits and chucking everything from that box into the bin, forever ridding himself of the past. But once he actually laughed over the joke, a real, belly-busting laugh, he couldn't let these memories go. With a deep breath, he stacked everything neatly back inside the box and then replaced it on its spot on the shelf.
Taking in the sorry state of his living room, he let out a heavy sigh and walked over to the various bottles that he'd consumed and picked them up to take them to the kitchen. One by one he emptied eight bottles into the sink and down the drain, vowing to never drink anything stronger than Butterbeer for the rest of his life.
Butterbeer.
He hadn't had that in a long, long time. He could almost feel the warm, amber liquid flowing down his throat and warming his gut. A yearning for the magical world began growing inside him but he tamped it down. That part of him was gone.
With a groan, Harry realized that he hadn't spoken with Claire since Christmas. He immediately rummaged around for his mobile phone. Sure enough, there were twelve voice messages from her. That surprised him actually. He thought there'd be more.
The truth of the matter was that he was getting bored with Claire. All they seemed to do lately was fuck. The sex was great, really, but he missed the chase, the challenge he thought went along with 'dating,' the way things were when he was with…Ginny. With Ginny, he had to wait, he had to pursue, he had to admire her from afar and he learned everything about her before they even kissed. And with Claire…well, it was all so fast and left him with a bitter taste in his mouth.
Scrolling through the voice messages, he decided to listen to the most recent one, which was left this morning at nine thirty.
"Harry…I don't know what you're trying to do to us, but I gather you need time alone. So I'll give it to you. That letter from Jenny obviously upset you tremendously and I am willing to be patient while you work things out. I miss you, Harry. I…I'm going to Wales with my parents. Remember, you were going to go with us. Call me if you've changed your mind. I'm packing the garter belt just in case…Love you."
He groaned. She started saying 'I love you' a few days before Christmas, and pouted whenever he would remain silent. He wasn't ready for that. In fact, he didn't know if he would ever be able to love anyone again.
He busied himself over the next few hours cleaning up his flat, righting the things that he'd stumbled over whilst drunk. Finally, with a satisfied sigh, he sunk into the sofa and propped his feet on the coffee table and fell asleep.
"Don't you DARE leave me here! I can fight! You taught me yourself, Harry! Look at me! You can't leave me like this!"
He couldn't look at her. If he did, he knew that his determination at leaving her behind would crumble.
"Damn you, Harry! This isn't just about you, you know. It's about us all. You're fighting for all the people who love you…I love you!"
Harry concentrated on the spot he was going to meet Ron and Hermione and as he Apparated away, whispered, "I love you, too, Ginny."
"I love you, Ginny!" he shouted into the dark of the room as he woke from his dream only to find himself alone with no one but the ghosts from his past to keep him company.
He only had himself to blame.
Chapter Five
Chapter Pairing: HP/OFC
Chapter Rating: R
Summary: Too many things have gone wrong. Too many people have suffered, even though the battle is won. A self-imposed exile is all he thinks he deserves.
Note: The joke Ron tells in this section is a result of a cab ride I took with
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
Harry called in sick every day for the next week after Christmas. It wasn't that much of a stretch, actually, since there was a nasty stomach flu going round the neighborhood, and as a delivery man, he was bound to catch something sooner or later. So instead of being sick, Harry was drinking anything he could get his hands on: lager, alcho-pop, hard liquor, wine and something called Everclear.
In one of his drinking binges, his eyes fell upon the picture that started it all, the picture of him, Ron, Hermione and Ginny, laughing together at Bill's wedding. He remembered slightly the joke that Ron had told to make them laugh.
"Why do men have a hole in the end of their penises?" Ron was a little tipsy himself, so the filter that was normally in place when he was around Hermione wasn't working.
"Ron…" Hermione warned him.
"No, Hermione, I wanna hear this!" Ginny piped in, her eyes fixed on Harry, who was barely hiding his own giggle.
"Ginny! I don't think this is an appropriate—"
"Shut up, Granger, and let him say the punch line!" Fred stood in front of them with a camera in his hand. The four of them should really have been suspicious, what with Fred standing there, but the combination of alcohol, the gaiety of the day and the promise of the punch line proved to override their fear of anything Fred could do to them.
"So tell me, Ron, why DO we have holes in the ends of our knobs?" Harry asked Ron with an enormous amount of joviality.
Ron began laughing, distorting his voice as he spoke, "S-s-s-s-so we can—so we can get air to our brains!"
Harry flung his head back as he let out a roar of laughter; Ginny kept snorting and was silently shaking, her eyes wide in astonishment; Hermione was trying valiantly to contain herself, but was failing miserably; Ron was doubled over, screeching with laughter. Fred then pressed the shutter of the camera, capturing the moment for posterity.
Inside himself, Harry felt like ripping the picture to bits and chucking everything from that box into the bin, forever ridding himself of the past. But once he actually laughed over the joke, a real, belly-busting laugh, he couldn't let these memories go. With a deep breath, he stacked everything neatly back inside the box and then replaced it on its spot on the shelf.
Taking in the sorry state of his living room, he let out a heavy sigh and walked over to the various bottles that he'd consumed and picked them up to take them to the kitchen. One by one he emptied eight bottles into the sink and down the drain, vowing to never drink anything stronger than Butterbeer for the rest of his life.
Butterbeer.
He hadn't had that in a long, long time. He could almost feel the warm, amber liquid flowing down his throat and warming his gut. A yearning for the magical world began growing inside him but he tamped it down. That part of him was gone.
With a groan, Harry realized that he hadn't spoken with Claire since Christmas. He immediately rummaged around for his mobile phone. Sure enough, there were twelve voice messages from her. That surprised him actually. He thought there'd be more.
The truth of the matter was that he was getting bored with Claire. All they seemed to do lately was fuck. The sex was great, really, but he missed the chase, the challenge he thought went along with 'dating,' the way things were when he was with…Ginny. With Ginny, he had to wait, he had to pursue, he had to admire her from afar and he learned everything about her before they even kissed. And with Claire…well, it was all so fast and left him with a bitter taste in his mouth.
Scrolling through the voice messages, he decided to listen to the most recent one, which was left this morning at nine thirty.
"Harry…I don't know what you're trying to do to us, but I gather you need time alone. So I'll give it to you. That letter from Jenny obviously upset you tremendously and I am willing to be patient while you work things out. I miss you, Harry. I…I'm going to Wales with my parents. Remember, you were going to go with us. Call me if you've changed your mind. I'm packing the garter belt just in case…Love you."
He groaned. She started saying 'I love you' a few days before Christmas, and pouted whenever he would remain silent. He wasn't ready for that. In fact, he didn't know if he would ever be able to love anyone again.
He busied himself over the next few hours cleaning up his flat, righting the things that he'd stumbled over whilst drunk. Finally, with a satisfied sigh, he sunk into the sofa and propped his feet on the coffee table and fell asleep.
"Don't you DARE leave me here! I can fight! You taught me yourself, Harry! Look at me! You can't leave me like this!"
He couldn't look at her. If he did, he knew that his determination at leaving her behind would crumble.
"Damn you, Harry! This isn't just about you, you know. It's about us all. You're fighting for all the people who love you…I love you!"
Harry concentrated on the spot he was going to meet Ron and Hermione and as he Apparated away, whispered, "I love you, too, Ginny."
"I love you, Ginny!" he shouted into the dark of the room as he woke from his dream only to find himself alone with no one but the ghosts from his past to keep him company.
He only had himself to blame.