A Treatise on the Defamation of Literary Minds(Or, At Least the Twinkie Tastes Good)

Sam’s Twilight Rant

*Note: Sam welcomes rebuttals, and mature open discussion on this topic.*

___________________________

You’re starving. You need a snack badly. You walk into your nearest Kwik E Mart and eye the Twinkies with a covetous glare. This is a crossroads for you: Do you break every rule and convention you know about dieting and good nutrition and eat that delicious cream filled confection with an enormously long shelf-life? Or do you grab the granola bar that is inexplicably on display right next to your temptation?

The Twinkie, of course! Geesh, we’re only human.

Now that you’ve been sufficiently fed, let’s stretch this imaginary scenario further. The Twinkie is deep fried (as they have been known to be at county fairs and on the outskirts of humanity), and you eat one for every meal every day. How does your stomach feel now? What’s your blood pressure like? Is your skin still looking well?

You see, a deep fried Twinkie is delicious, and a guilty pleasure for those of us lucky enough to partake. But any one of you reading this understands that there is no way you can consume more than one of those things a year! The rest of the time, most of us try to eat healthy and take care of ourselves. And those of us who don’t, usually pay for it dearly.

Good eating habits are common knowledge to most of us, whether we choose to ignore them or not. But what about good pop culture habits, good reading habits, and even good viewing habits? Sure, everyone has the occasional Twinkie (I’m looking at you American Idol), but how many of you out there are guilty of the deep fried Twinkie consumption on a daily basis? How many of you watch things that rot your mind so sufficiently, you might as well be sucking the warm cream filling of a fat-induced-heart-attack-causing foodstuff?

Bottom line, what we watch and read could be bad for us.

Which is why I’m shocked, nay appalled, at the success of the Twilight series by Stephenie Meyer. Like the nutrition labels on your favorite crème filled snack, the problems with Twilight are laid out in obvious ways for everyone to see. And yet, the following of these books and movies is nearly cult-like and has spurned the careers of some previously no named actors, given a small backwoods town in Washington a booming tourist industry, and created a millionaire out of a mediocre author. At the risk of sounding hyperbolic, I fear that the world is doomed to a future of a pop culture heart attack if something is not done about these deep fat fried excuses for books.

In this very serious opinion piece, I aim to tell you why Twilight will ruin you by first pointing out how Twilight enforces poor personality choices with no consequences, shines a positive light on male dominance and unproductive relationships, and sets back the value of self worth at every turn. I know what you are saying: “But Sam, they are just books!” To which I answer “Just books, or the end of common sense as we know it?”

The first glaring problem we come across is that Twilight casts negative emotions in a positive light with no consequences. There is vanity throughout the series in which the characters are so bent on physical beauty that they make large sacrifices for it. In lieu of paying for such vanity, they are rewarded. A good example of this is Bella’s obsession with getting older. She has nightmares about being old and wrinkly while Edward still sparkles. It seems okay that Bella doesn’t want to get old, doesn’t feel good enough around her beautiful boyfriend. Instead of learning to love herself, she is changed to be good enough to be with Edward.

There is also a serious set of messed up priorities that seem to turn out fine, when in any actual circumstance, the opposite would happen. We are forced to root for her to never finish school, never consider her father’s feelings, never gain outside friendships, to act reckless just to see his face, and to give up your life for the sole purpose of love, even though there are other options. She gets no consequences to any of this, as she ends up a very powerful vampire, with her love, and with a family to show for it. Oh, and she gets to be with her father too. What sort of lesson does that convey? Sure, this is a work of fiction, and many of us can understand that the real world doesn’t work this way. But what about those who haven’t yet grasped the full impact of the real world? They happen to be Twilight’s main fanbase.

The melodrama of these characters also never results in consequences. Twilight makes romance and seeing your lover a matter of life and death. This is not a tired concept in literature, but this goes a bit too far. Sitting, alone, and turning yourself off for the sake of a broken heart shows us that reacting in exactly the way our hearts want to won’t be a problem because the moment you get better everything will be okay. Edward is saved, Bella gets all her friends back, her father isn’t mad at her, her grades did not fail, and she has her pretty sparkly boyfriend back. What if your teenage cousin or sister or even yourself were to do the same thing?

We often hear a raging debate between abstinence only and sexual education. Some people think that teaching abstinence is the only way to make sure our teens don’t fall subject to the dangers of pregnancy and disease. Okay, to each their own. But what if that abstinence is forced on unwilling parties due to a patriarchal sense of purity? The consequences of that in the real world is an increase in sexual exploration resulting in disease in pregnancy due to ignorance. The consequence in Twilight: Bella’s sexuality is seen as something that destroys, something that has to be tamped down, and something that could destroy her. How is that going to be viewed by the impressionable masses? To add to this, the moment they are allowed to surrender to their baser urges, the consequences aren’t there…almost like marriage makes it all okay. If that were the case, why did we wait four books? Antiquated senses of female physicality?

Another issue that makes me fret for the fate of humanity is the rampant male dominance and sexism in the series. Bella goes from her mother’s household because her mother needs time to be with a new man. Why should that even be an option? When Bella arrives in her father’s household, she becomes his cook. It seems as though he’s in need of a caretaker, and that is what her role in the new household becomes. Sure, her father is a redeemable character and very doting, but why is Bella’s worth in her home seen in this primarily care taking role? The other women in the series also take this role. Why is Esme at home? Why is she just the mother and nothing more? Certainly there is nothing wrong with that, but in this breath, she seems nothing more than a figurehead. Furthermore, why is it Rosalie’s role to protect the unborn child? Will only women be open to doing that?

Bella’s romantic entanglements seem to hinge on her needing protection, and only men providing it. When one lover leaves, she is automatically thrown into the arms of another impossibly strong man. Why is it okay for both of these men to use physical force on her to win emotional dominance? It’s never seen as harmful or with any consequence. Edward tries to keep her in a glass case, and this is seen as romantic. Jacob actually forces himself on her at one point, and it is written that she comes to enjoy it. In the very ending, Bella saves the day…but only in an immortal form. And even then, her prowess is not in the physical, and she still needs the physical security of the men in her life.

Finally, the Twilight series is rife with an appalling lack of self worth in our heroine. Bella does not value anything in herself that isn’t tied to her relationship with Edward. She starts to find it, but even then, it’s tied to Jacob. All the women are coupled, none has qualities that stand alone. Why do they all need to be couples? The whispers of independence seem to be only extenuated by their current relationships with men. Even the non-vampires are all paired off by something that feels like necessity. Rosalie was actually only considered to be turned in the beginning to be a partner for Edward! Luckily she found her own man. Carlisle turned Esme because he wanted her. Bella didn’t want to date Mike, but Jessica didn’t have a boyfriend, and we all know every girl needs a boyfriend! Angela is still single? I’ll not hear of it, let’s pawn her off to Eric so that everyone is in pairs. Hell, Renesmee is barely out of the rock solid Super Womb Of Doom before the only remaining single male is paired off with her. Does anyone have any value outside of their romantic relationships at all?

Don’t you feel heavy after all of that deep fried sugary filth? Need something to cleanse your pop culture palate? Never fear, good readers, Harry Potter is here! And not just The Chosen One, but all of his friends. They will give you the wholesome goodness of granola with a yummy chocolate coating for good measure! Where Twilight makes me weep for humanity, Harry Potter makes me wish wizards really did exist.

In The Harry Potter Series, whenever the priorities are mixed up, the consequences are dire. An excellent example of this occurring in romantic relationships is with Ron and Hermione. When they seek to hurt the other, or act out of jealousy, they only manage to hurt themselves. McClaggen probably seemed like a great idea until he accosted Hermione under the mistletoe. And I’m sure Ron thought it was a good idea to hurt Hermione with Lavender until he got that awful necklace, broke an innocent girl’s heart, and got attacked by rapid canaries! Snape acts in his own self-interest instead of out of a need for the greater good, and what does he get? He hurts the woman he loves, she dies, and then later a snake eats him. Sure, he died somewhat a hero, but he did pay for his transgressions. When Harry acts out of rage, he pays for it by nearly killing Malfoy.

There are also rewards to positive priorities in the Harry Potter series. When Ron and Hermione seek to act for each other and not to hurt each other, we get a lot of beautiful moments and even some moments that become a matter of life and death. Harry gets his happy ending just like Bella does, but to get that ending, Harry had to go through so much pain and loss. Harry had to learn so much about himself and what it meant to do good for others before he got the family he always wanted. Again, I ask, what did Bella have to do?

When vanity appears in the Harry Potter series, it’s usually attributed to a villain, or someone we later come to see as a fool. (See: Gilderoy Lockhart). Even when vanity happens to the main characters, it’s an uncommon occurrence, and almost endearing in its quality. The ultimate vanity is punished in the ultimate way. Lucius Malfoy thinks himself above others, and that quality is shown as villainous and undesirable instead of something necessary to move the plot forward and find romantic value.

Sex is never outwardly mentioned in the Harry Potter series, but you get no indication that it is wrong either. Ginny is said to be a great beauty, and it’s not to her detriment. She isn’t going to harm herself or the man she loves by being a beautiful woman. When any of the female characters are shown as beautiful and desirable, that isn’t all they are, and they aren’t shunned or forced to suppress this for the safety of themselves and others. Fleur openly flaunts her loveliness, and is arguably the most beautiful character in the series. But that beauty isn’t her sole trait, nor does it make her appear wrong in some way. Instead, she turns it into something strong when she delivers her speech about her loyalty to Bill at the end of Half Blood Prince. She is strong, smart, and brave…her beauty is just a supplement that means no one any harm.

When a character becomes melodramatic in the Harry Potter series, it is a flaw that they must learn to correct. Harry himself in Order of the Phoenix was incredibly quick tempered, saw everything as an affront, and generally put on a hopeless malaise about the world around him. It was only when he overcame this ennui that he achieved what he needed to achieve and became the man that would eventually save that fictional world. Furthermore, melodrama is punished instead of rewarded. Cho Chang couldn’t stop crying, and playing emotionally manipulative games. Instead of being rewarded with her own sparkly vampire and special super sparkly vampire powers and non-aging babies, she was cast aside until she grew up.

Male dominance is there, as there are many very powerful male characters. The difference is, in the Harry Potter series, the females are just as strong, independent, and impactful. You can name all the strong female characters on both hands and still need more room. No one is forced to couple; single females can remain single even when there are male prospects available (see Luna Lovegood, who didn’t marry until much later…or Minerva McGonagall who is never mentioned as having married.) The traditionally and incorrectly portrayed female role of child rearing and protecting is given to males as well. For confirmation of this, all we have to do is look at Harry’s argument with Remus in Deathly Hallows. Remus longs to fight in the war, but Harry is upset, saying that Remus needs to be there for his wife and child. Fatherhood and Motherhood are equally valuable in the Harry Potter Series, even if Mothers are given a special role.

And self worth among all of the young characters is rampant. The teenage characters grow and change, and in doing so find the good things about themselves without needing a romance to make it so. As mentioned before, McGonagall needs no man, and yet she survives FIVE STUNNERS during the first attack on Hogwarts. Everything about Hermione Granger screams self worth. She is upset with Ron and heartbroken many times, but she functions. Hermione knows her own value, understands what she can do, and despite being in a lot of pain over Ron, she manages to hold on and do what needs to be done. Ron and Hermione only become a functioning and successful couple after Ron independently conquers his demons and finds out how important he is. Neither of them need a super hot sparkling vampire to show them that they are good enough. Instead, throughout the series, Ron and Hermione grow and learn that they are powerful and brilliant wizards, and then they get together.

So there you have it: the literary indigestion that threatens to send the entire book reading movie-viewing world to the bathroom. You’ve read for yourself why Twilight is harmful, from misguided priorities with no consequence to forced abstinence. However, you’ve also seen that there is hope out there in the pop culture universe, all you have to do is wave your wand! Why would anyone want to eat something that is slowly killing them day in and day out, when there’s a wholesome solution just around the corner?

Perhaps, in reading this rant, you’ve been rolling your eyes. “Sure, Twilight sucks, but we’re grown ups. It’s just a guilty pleasure,” You’re saying to yourself. Maybe you’ll be singing a different tune when 12 year old girls are walking around wearing shirts proclaiming their support for fictional sexism, when urban dictionary comes up with a term for the Edward Cullen Effect that causes women to think men like him really exist, when formerly fashion forward retail chains start selling replicas of the clothing a fictional character wears for vastly inflated prices, when people are screaming at movie screens just to see these characters come to life, when once awesome Indie Rock bands are creating ballads about a vapid young girl and her obsession with a man who wants to eat her, and when a poorly educated overly religious housewife with terrible writing skills sells millions of books to young, impressionable women.

…. Oh wait.

Posted in OpinionComments (2)

Best Of 2009-Staff questionnaire(Sam)

Question 1:  Best new quote(about Rupert and/or from Rupert)

“What would you change most about the world?” Rupert then gives the best answer of all:

“Everyone to be ginger would be good. A ginger world, that would be cool.”

Sam: I AGREE!

Question 2:  Best New Fact

Sam:  Rupert did crossword puzzles during breaks from his incredibly intimate scenes with Kim in Cherrybomb.

normal_sum_1435602c

Question 3:  Best Photoshoot

Sam:  I’m going to pick a different one just for the sake of it. FHM…smoking Rupert!

Question 4:  Best interview(printed and/or video)
This was the most brilliant! He was so cute and she was just adorable. He was so obliging. It was a great demonstration about how sweet he is.

normal_msg-125709407644-3Question 4:  Best appearence/event outing

Sam: Halloween!!! That was so hot.

Question 6:  Best candid shot of Rupertarticle-0-04AB7360000005DC-975_468x340
Sam:  I was really happy to see him out on a date! It excites me that he’s finally pursuing more romantic adventures!

Question 7:  Best movie promo still

normal_website15

Sam:  I just loved his look for Cherrybomb period.

Question 8:  Best Half-Blood Prince scene

The love potion scene of course! He was just brilliant. When he says “Hello Darling” and hugs Slughorn, I can’t help but giggle.

normal_88886056Question 9:  Best picture from a normal_vuXL7svA2pn18vliYZTHWyCRo1_500premier this year

Sam:  It’s a tie:

Posted in Memento, OpinionComments (1)

Best Of The Decade-Staff Questionnaire(Sam)

Question 1: Best Quote(by our about Rupert)
…“..Grint can do more acting with only his eyes than most actors can do with their whole bodies…”   Tom’s Mini Movie Reviews

Sam: This says it all. It says why we are Rupert fans. It says why everyone who downplays him and his skill are full of shit. And it says he’s the best of the young actors on set!

normal_005.PNG

Question 2:  Best Photoshoot

Sam: I don’t care what anyone says, it’s DRAMA baby! All that skin….so delicious. I loved see the colors and the paleness of his skin.

Question 3: Best Interview

Sam:  I know it’s fairly recent, but Blag was the best one. It was just so long! So full of info!

Question 4:  Best Appereance/Event Outing

Sam: V-Fest in 2007! He was just so very Rupert.B6DB22A5-BF69-6183-A1CE7783B07D78D2 The goggle shirt is so awesome, and he looked adorable wearing it. And then the Squirty Cream Can impression? Priceless.

Question 5:  Funniest thing Rupert did on camera
Sam:  I’ve got to go with the Squirty Cream Can impression again.

00-00-11~0Question 6:  Best T-shirt

Sam:  There’s a reason behind this. He was doing an interview when he was wearing this shirt, I think it was on CNN, and they asked him if he knows about Roswell and Area 51. He had no idea. He just liked the shirt! That is sooooo Rupert.

Question 7:  Best Rupert moment

Sam: The Premiere of Cherrybomb at Berlinale. That was his moment. It was his turn to shine! He proved to the world that he has what it takes.

Question 8:   Best Ron moment(in books and/or movies)

“You can have me, Keep me!”
Sam: That is a perfect summation of Ron’s character. Loyal, self sacrificing, and brave.

normal_DWF15-741758

Question 9: Best Hairstyle

Sam:  I love the long shaggy look of the PoA era. Sure, he was a bit young, but that hair needs to always be on display!

Question 10:  Movie Role you’re dying to see right now!

Sam:  Tony in Wild Target!  (bathtub…bathtub…bathtub)

Posted in Memento, OpinionComments (1)

So Much

An excerpt from Potterwatch by EruditeWitch

Summary: A missing moment from Deathly Hallows during and after Malfoy Manor.
Lyrics by The Spill Canvas

7283774

“No!”

The word echoed in Ron Weasley’s mind. It moved through his veins like a razorblade, cutting him with every agonizing thought. He tried to yell, to let his anguish out, but he was frozen, unable to commit to the simplest motion. The pain was exhaustive. Her pain was his, and being separated by a wall of dark rock only served to drive Ron further into a pit. He felt as though he was ceasing to exist with each of her screams.

Everything else happened in a blur. Dobby arrived, though Ron didn’t know how. The only thing going through Ron’s mind was her. The screaming had stopped, which was even more disconcerting. He had no guarantee that she was still alive, and he wanted to vomit. He told the elf where to take everyone. He hoped that somehow he could take Hermione away from this … hopefully alive and well.

Scabbers – no, Wormtail – was on his way down. The door opened, which gave him hope of seeing Hermione again, and Ron’s arms and legs burned to burst forth … to touch her … to feel that she was indeed still there, still alive, still with him in some way. He was desperate, and he would stop at nothing. When Harry suggested a fight, Ron almost leapt out of his skin in anticipation of beating any one of the f*ckers that had hurt her. In what seemed like a flash to Ron’s numbed mind, Wormtail was dying. Then he heard her scream, and nothing else mattered.

Ron moved beside Harry up the stairs. There she was. She wasn’t moving. There was chatter amongst the Death Eaters, and it was probably important, but Ron was zeroed in on her face, unmoving, and at her chest, not rising and falling in the way he had come to memorize.

“And I think,” said Bellatrix’s voice, “we can dispose of the Mudblood. Greyback, take her if you want her.”

He felt Harry’s arm reach out across his chest and it snapped him back to reality. Harry wanted him to stay back, but the next words from above caused his entire being to combust, and he couldn’t hold on, not even for Harry.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOO!” He screamed. That feral rage … that sense of limitless desperation … was finally freeing itself from his lips in a wave of fury. He ran up the stairs, the numbness and darkness he had felt only a moment before now replaced with a sharpness and clarity that was almost unbearable.

He could feel the warmth as he left the cold and dark hallway and moved into the grandness of the great room of Malfoy Manor. He could smell the filthy reeking of a dying dog wafting off of Greyback. He could taste the salt and dried blood that flowed down his face. He could see the light reflecting off the chandelier and he moved quickly into battle. He could hear her…even in the midst of disarming his opponents. He could hear her tiny breaths, and it moved him forward.

Despite his clarity, time slowed. He saw Harry obviously bounding up the steps just behind him, but he took an agonizingly long time to arrive on the scene. He disarmed her – that offensive, sorry excuse for a woman. He took that vile wand from her and took aim at the Malfoys with Wormtail’s wand. Hermione’s still form remained on the floor, and there was murder in his heart.

The sureness and the clarity disappeared as Bellatrix took Hermione and pressed a knife to the soft skin on her throat. The blood that fell from her neck hypnotized him, and he dropped the wands robotically. He was going to die. He wanted to die. Life without her was a hell he didn’t even want to think about.

How does it feel to know you’re everything I need
The butterflies in my stomach
They could bring me to my knees
How does it feel to know you’re everything I want
I’ve got a hard time saying this
So I’ll sing it in a song

Ron prepared to die. There was no point in fighting. He was a coward, and without her, he was even less than that. The blood dripped down her shirt like macabre sand in an eternal hourglass, ticking away to their deaths. He shook as he fought his despair. He still had Harry. Harry needed him and he couldn’t leave his best mate again. As Harry’s shoulder pressed against him, Ron closed his mind to his fear and thought only of Harry’s need.

As his will strengthened, Ron saw a glimmer of hope out of the corner of his eye. Dobby was back. He came though for them in a more heroic way than the Ron of yesterday would have scarcely imagined. Then came an ominous creaking sound from above.

Bellatrix cast her prey aside as if the whole world didn’t depend on that brilliant young witch waking up. Ron wanted to run to her, but a crash snapped him from determination. The massive structure of glass and light fell from the ceiling and was covering all but Hermione’s delicate left hand. He ran to her, ignoring the shards of glass piercing his face. He dug for her, paying no attention as his fingers dripped blood on the pristine crystal.

He got to her, and his clarity returned. The pain from the glass felt good, it made him feel alive. He pulled her close to him, pressed his chest against hers and felt the faint beating of her heart. The drumming restored life to every inch of him.

“Ron, catch- and GO!”

Harry’s determined face swam in Ron’s eyes as a small wand flew through the air toward him. He looked at Harry, grateful for not giving in. Now, the world consisted only of his need to gaze into her eyes again as he apparated to Bill and Fleur’s cottage by the sea.

He landed on his feet, the spongy ground keeping his ankles from giving out from the force of his Apparition. He held her close to him and ran toward the back door of the cottage on the cliff. He pounded on the door with his foot, not wanting to let loose his grip on the broken Hermione. His brother answered the door, wand drawn. He looked horrified at the sight of them.

“What position did I play in quidditch?”

“You didn’t play. There were too many girls to snog…”

“What the hell happened?” Bill asked, moving aside to let Ron in. Fleur stood a few feet behind, a menacing look marring her beautiful features – a look that faded into worry as Ron sprinted up the stairs to lay Hermione in the room with the blue curtains. He barely even registered the presence of Luna on the settee and the sight of Dean leaning over her.

She let out a quiet groan as her laid her down on the narrow bed. She felt so small in his arms, so fragile. Hermione had never before seemed so breakable to him. Instead, she had always seemed larger than life, radiating a strength that would positively influence anyone around her. Now, she lay weak, limp, and barely breathing.

Oh I adore the way you carry yourself
With the grace of a thousand angels overhead
I love the way the galaxy starts to melt
When we become one
When we become one

“What happened, Ron?” asked Bill quietly as he walked into the room and placed a hand on his youngest brother’s shoulder.

“Harry is on his way. I think the goblin is hurt,” Ron answered, and Bill rushed out of the room. Ron sat on the end table and began to fish glass from the cuts on her face, careful not to cause her additional pain. He flinched which each sliver of glass he took from her skin, but continued.

“Ron, I need to know what ‘appened, so zat I can ‘elp,” Fleur whispered, catching him off guard.

“I can’t tell you,” he said distractedly, moving his wand over each wound carefully, still removing glass.

Fleur swooped down next to him and put a soft hand on his bleeding arm. He didn’t look up from his task.

“You can trust me. I won’t tell Beel if you don’t want me too…”

At this, Ron looked up at her. Her ice blue eyes were gazing at him with affection and understanding, the same way Hermione had always looked at him in their rare moments of levity. Ron had no choice but to trust Fleur. The world be damned, Hermione needed help.

“She may have been tortured,” Ron said, running his hands lightly along her nose, the one area of her face that had not been cut. He couldn’t keep his hands from her, for fear she might vanish, and he would find himself somehow back in that awful dungeon. Fleur’s bare feet padded delicately into the room as she re-entered, holding some bottles filled with various potions.

“Okay. First, we need to get all of zis glass out of ze way,” she lifted her wand and Ron stood in front of Hermione.

“You’ll hurt her!”

“It needs to be done…”

Ron gave up, already cringing over what it would feel like.

“Zis will hurt you too…Accio glass!”

And before he could heed her warning, the shards of the chandelier were pulled from his flesh. He watched as the blood-dotted crystal flew to the ceiling and towards Fleur’s wand. He felt burning and piercing as Fleur guided the shards of glass to a bowl she had placed on the floor next to her. As he was about to let his body take over and cry out in pain, Hermione let out a whimper. Flushed with relief at her ability to vocalize, Ron suppressed his own pain and ran to her side.

Tiny stains of blood were appearing on the sleeves of her jacket, the front of her shirt, and along her legs. He tried to comfort her as she slowly woke, tears streaming down her scratched and bloodied face.

“Ron?” she eeked out. He went to answer, but Fleur interrupted.

“First, we ‘ave to heal zees cuts. Ron, take off her jacket. I’ll get her socks and jeans,” she said, immediately pulling off her socks and unbuttoning Hermione’s jeans.

Ron turned his back and tried to focus on sitting her up carefully and sliding the jacket over her shoulders, leaving her in only a tattered sleeveless top. Her arms seemed in even worse condition than her face, for the cuts were deeper. He laid her carefully back on the pillow, but when she groaned, he clasped her hand between his, trying to comfort her as she slowly became alert. He could hear Fleur whispering spells that would mend her broken skin, but Ron was terrified at what else might be broken inside her. He thought back to Neville’s parents in the hospital and moved closer to Hermione and gently pulled her arm to his chest. She started to cry as Fleur’s wand continued to seal the small wounds on her face, leaving behind what looked like mild burns that slowly faded.

“Shhhhh, Hermione. You’re okay. You’re safe,” he whispered, smoothing her hair back so he could better see her eyes, but they were still closed. He fought back the horrific lump that was rising in his throat, and kissed her forehead.

“It hurts,” she whispered, gripping his hand. Fleur handed him a bottle of blue liquid he knew to be pain potion.

“Drink this, love, it’ll help,” he said, brining a shaking hand to her lips as he guided her to sit up with his other. Fleur quickly stacked pillows behind her to hold Hermione’s weak form upright.

She swallowed greedily, causing herself to cough. The look of pain on her face told Ron that the simple act of coughing was exceedingly difficult for her. It ripped Ron up to see the tears in her eyes, especially since he still did not know how the ordeal had affected her emotionally. He barely got a half open glimpse from her as she cringed in pain.

“Fleur! I need some skelegro!” Bill’s panicked voice came from the bottom of the stairs. She shuffled out of the room quickly and quietly.

Ron was completely at a loss. He ran his hands over her shaking back, pulling her toward him and attempting to calm and comfort her in any way he could. She just sobbed, and the sound of her choked cries tore through him once again. Sure, she was safe and he was there, but he couldn’t do anything more to help her. He closed his eyes to keep from crying himself, and silently resolved to be there when his Hermione fully returned.

“Oh ‘Mione! I’m sorry.” He whispered between her quiet gasps for breath, letting his warm hands run over the chilled skin on her arms.

“None of this is your fault. It’s unfathomable that you should apologize for what she…” Hermione spoke weakly, choking on her words. He was never so happy to hear her slightly condescending tone in all of his life. She gazed at him with pain, but also with affection and understanding.

He sat there, watching the light of a candle flicking in her glassy eyes. Then, forgetting any fear or misgiving, he moved to the bed and pulled her into his arms, resting his head in her hair and crying with her.

How does it feel when we get locked into a stare?
Please don’t come looking for me
When I get lost in the mess of your hair
How do you feel when everything you’ve known
Gets thrown aside
Never fear, my dear, ’cause we have nothing left to hide

“I thought I had lost you. I couldn’t…I can’t…” he said into her hair.

“I was scared. I wanted to die. I never wanted to get out of that alive. I didn’t intend to,” she said, her warm breath grazing his shoulder as she spoke. “The pain was too much. I didn’t want to live if it meant having to feel that.”

“Oh Hermione! No. I can’t go on with all of this without you here,” he said, his heart pounding at the thought of her giving up.

“I heard you yelling and I stayed strong. I lied, knowing you and Harry needed me to,” she said, her voice gaining some strength in the process.

“It’s the bravest thing I’ve ever heard,” he whispered, moving his hands to her face. He wasn’t shocked at his own open actions, for he simply craved feeling her and knowing she was real.

There was so much more to say. He wanted to tell her how they made it out, how Dobby saved them all in the nick of time. He wanted to show her what Harry had seen in the mirror, but as her breathing began to slow, all he wanted to do was hold onto her until for as long as he could.

“I promise, Hermione, I’ll always be there.”

“You kept that promise, Ron,” she said, pulling back and looking into his eyes. The relief at feeling her there faded, and it left him with an urge to kiss every inch of her face. Those feelings made him feel guilty for being so insensitive, so he settled for crawling into the bed next to her, laying down and letting her rest her head on his chest.

Hold on to me girl
If you feel your grip getting loose
Just know that I’m right next to you
Hold on to me girl
If you feel your grip getting loose
Just know that I won’t let you down

Approximately an hour later, Fleur came in, accompanied by Bill, and Ron couldn’t hold back the blush at them finding him like that with Hermione.

“The elf is dead. Harry doesn’t seem to be taking it well,” Bill said. Ron gasped and carefully laid Hermione’s sleeping form back on her pillow as Bill walked back out of the room. Fleur walked forward with a bundle of clothing. She set it on the nightstand and conjured a patronus.

“Ron ees ‘ere. We are safe. Molly and Geeny are at Muriel’s. I will keep in touch,” she said, sending her dove on its way.

“What was that for?” he asked, wondering which member of his family she would feel compelled to notify. Fleur looked reluctant to say, and that’s all the answer Ron needed.

“That git…” but Ron didn’t’ finish his rant as he looked out the window and saw Harry digging a hole in the yard. He looked back at Hermione and felt torn.

“I weel wake ‘er shortly. I must check for any more injuries anyway,” Fleur said gently. Ron raced down the stairs and out the door.

He found Harry digging furiously, unaware of the world around him. Dean was just watching, almost mesmerized by Harry’s pain. He saw the small bundle wrapped in Harry’s coat, its feet sticking out of the bottom. He could hear the slap of the metal shovel in the dirt. Ron tasted the salt on his lips form the sea below them.

“How’s Hermione?”

“Better,” said Ron. “Fleur’s looking after her.”

He didn’t need to ask Harry why he wasn’t just casting a spell. Harry needed to vent, needed to think, needed to grieve. Ron wouldn’t stop that, but he would help. The dirt that Harry flung out of the expanding hole smelled so visceral that Ron was compelled to go in and help him dig. Soon, Dean followed, digging out of honor and respect for the elf that got them out of that dungeon, and away from death.

The cold breeze ran across the back of his neck, and he shuddered. This brave elf had kept them all from death for one more day. He had risked his life, and because of that, Hermione was still with them. Ron looked again at his tiny bare feet as Harry wrapped him more tightly in the coat, and felt struck by the memory of Dobby receiving socks with gusto at Christmas. He took his own socks and put them on his feet as Hermione hobbled over to the makeshift funeral. He put his arm around her, pulling her close to him and away from the cold uncertainty of their tomorrow.

If I had to choose a way to die
It’d be with you
In a goosebump infested embrace
With my overanxious hands cupping your face
In a goosebump infested embrace
With my overanxious hands cupping your cherub face

Disclaimer: The characters of and situations of Harry Potter used in this story are the legal property of J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, and AOL Time Warner. We are just borrowing them. No copyright infringement is intended.

Posted in FanficComments (0)

On Hollywood, Potato Peelers and Cherrybomb

Anyone who’s even remotely been paying attention to current events knows that the global economy is in recession. The stock market in America fell, followed shortly by all other major stock indexes in the world. Real Estate is lagging in every Western country, manufacturing is slowing down, and consumer spending is falling. We hear about it every day. And just about every other day, you can see some news organization report on how Hollywood is not recession proof any longer. The movies are losing money, and even though the percentages are minuscule in comparison to other industries, major production companies and not so major production companies are tamping down costs whenever they can.

According to Time in September of 2008, even Steven Spielberg’s production company was having trouble finding buyers and getting approved lines of credit. This was a sharp wake up call for studio that just two years before this were enjoying the biggest boon they’d ever seen. The article goes on to say that now investors in these large studio stocks are demanding more market discipline in every area of film production, from special effects to marketing. Studios used to save all the revenue from gems like Spiderman and expect investors to make up for the more lackluster performers. With the increasing fear in the safety of their investments, holders are justifiably weary.

But what does this mean for the Indie film and foreign film circuits? What does this mean for movies like… oh I don’t know… Cherrybomb? It’s not looking good at all. Investment in all overseas entertainment is down across the board, and American companies aren’t buying. Where once they would take a risk on sleeper hits like France’s The Class, now they will only make movies with guaranteed returns, since studios can trust investors to pick up the tab on underperformers anymore. This becomes most poignant when you think about one of Rupert’s most famous costars in his recent Irish project. According the BBC news on June 09, 2009, James Nesbitt is going to Hollywood to find work, since he can’t find anything baying anywhere in the U.K.

We, as Rupert Grint fans, have all felt this effect first hand. While The Little Film Company is working diligently to get Cherrybomb picked up by distributors, no one seems to want to bite on what has the makings to be a great and popular film. And after hearing all the doom and gloom of economic forecasters, no one is taking a risk on anything that isn’t a sequel, doesn’t have explosions of Michael Bay proportions, or doesn’t have teen romance with a compulsory happyend. Our ‘Little Film That Could’ may get all the critical claim under the sun, but without the critical formula that the mainstream investors seems to think necessary, it will never see the light of the international stage. Case in point, Melissa Leo was nominated for an Oscar, but did anyone actually get to see Frozen River in theaters?

And therein lies our conundrum: How do you get investors who are so afraid of losing any more money, to allow their company to distribute what is essentially a risk? It’s either change the economy or keep doing what we’re doing and trying to prove this is less of a risk than investors think through the actions of Rupert’s Army. We all as fans have to remember, that while the work we are doing is important and can make a difference, we are one splash in the large ocean of a much bigger problem. The world isn’t working against us, not necessarily anyway, and we have to keep our chins up. It’s the equivalent of a potato famine for Indie Films, and we’re deep in the heart of Northern Ireland selling potato peelers.

There is hope! This year may prove to be a lot more fruitful than 2008 was, and perhaps a few more months in good numbers may make film investors less paranoid. According to the Film Journal in February of 2009:

As of Feb. 16, year-to-date box office was 15 percent higher than last year’s, and the Presidents’ Day weekend gross was up an impressive 32% from 2008. People are flocking to nearly everything on the big screen, and with this kind of depth in the marketplace, 2009 can be a giant year.

The Little Film Company also offers up some good solutions. Where most studios are still struggling with the tight belts of the investors, TLFC has been working with non-traditional outlets to get their film distributed. They are reaching out to fansites and media outlets that haven’t before been considered. By stretching out their efforts, they are circumventing the serious problem of smaller budgets and less risky investors by proving their point without the validation of the established and powerful industry. Going right to the fans could start a serious trend in Independent Films.

In my opinion, the big wigs and wasps that run the American Film Industry have their heads up their asses, but how is that different from any other point in Hollywood history? We just have to hope that they will see the upward trend in film attendance, and start taking chances again. I’m positive that the success of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince this summer is going to boost the hopes and spirit of the film industry and make investors a little more comfortable in the stability of the market overall. It may take a lot of time, and a lot of hoping, but banking on a good summer box office and excellent DVD sales, I’d say 2009 could still be the Year of the Grint.

Posted in OpinionComments (1)

Sister

An excerpt from Transmission by EruditeWitch

Summary: An immediately post-war fic centered on Hermione and Harry’s friendship and Ron and Ginny’s relationship as they cope with all of the sudden changes and losses.
Lyrics by The Nixons

sister1_crop

Hermione Granger attempted to stifle her racing heart as chaos erupted around her in the Hospital Wing. Injured witches and wizards, injured friends reaching out for her help were flowing in. Madam Pomfrey was an effective leader, commanding the still standing to aid the ill. She was currently trying to piece together and heal the large bloody wound overtaking Lavender Brown as Parvati held her hand in worry.

“Hermione!” Neville shouted, drawing her attentions back to the task at hand. Dean Thomas was levitating Seamus Finnigan, a torn rag doing nothing to stop the blood gushing out of a wound on his leg. Hermione rushed over and directed him to an open cot.

“I’ll be fine, help the others first,” Seamus groaned, though his face was sweating and screwed up in pain.

“No!” shouted Dean sternly, immediately taking Seamus’ hand. “You need help, f*ck’s sake I will not lose you…not after I’ve finally found my way back.”

“Dittany, please, Neville,” she said quietly, a knot in her throat affecting her vocal chords. She was struck by the open affection and concern between Dean and Seamus, but quickly let it go. She knew she would act the same way toward Ron. She was diverted away from the question that thought raised about Seamus and Dean as Neville placed a freshly made dish of dittany in her hand.

“I must clean this before I can heal it, Seamus,” Hermione said, studying the long, oozing wound that stretched down the length of Seamus’ shin and partially exposed the bone. “This will hurt.”

Dean took Seamus’ bloody hand more tightly in his and leaned in, whispering in his ear. Hermione swept her wand over his leg, casting a Cleansing Spell. Seamus tried to hold back a scream as tears ran down his face, but eventually he yelled out. Hermione felt her own tears shed in empathy for her housemate. She dug her fingers generously into the cool dittany and swathed it over the bloody gash, sealing it almost instantly. Seamus’ breathing slowed.

“Can you bandage this just in case? Also, find Slughorn and get some Blood-Replenishing Potion. Seamus looks deathly pale,” she said to Neville, shaking. He put a hand on her back.

“Sure. Will you be okay?” he asked, looking very concerned.

Hermione nodded, moving quickly to the next person waiting for help. She knew she was useful here. She had a textbook awareness of general Healing Spells, but she ached to be near Ron. She had stood there in the Great Hall on the edge, wanting to grab him, hold him tightly, and comfort him. But she felt like an intruder on the Weasley family’s sadness, so she did nothing. Now, all she wanted to do was make his hurt lessen in any way she could.

She finished up her tasks and Madame Pomfrey suggested she get some rest in Gryffindor Tower. Hermione hoped she could find Ron, Harry, and all of the Weasleys resting there too. She walked briskly away from the Hospital Wing, cleaning the blood off of her clothes as she went. However, she suddenly felt very sick. Everything she had done, seen, and felt on this day seemed to invade her mind.

Overwhelmed, she leaned over a bin in the deserted hallway and vomited, shaking violently.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Harry was unsure of what to do. He knew he was hungry and should eat, but after handing the bodies of Lupin and Tonks over to The Newly Established Interim Slap Dash Ministry, he didn’t feel like summoning Kreacher and getting food. Yes, he was relieved and felt better than he had in ages, but he wanted to find his friends … he wanted to find Ginny. Harry felt he didn’t have much to offer in the category of comfort, but he still wanted to be there for the Weasleys if they needed anything. He knew Hermione would chastise him for thinking so, but Harry couldn’t help but feel slightly responsible for the horrible loss of Fred Weasley.

As Harry padded thoughtfully through the halls, he heard someone coughing. He rounded the corner to find Hermione bent over a bin, her bushy hair falling around her face. Harry was slightly shocked at seeing her so ill composed, but rushed over and gathered her hair into his hands, casting a cleaning spell as he did so. He couldn’t begin to imagine what was going through her complicated mind.

Thoughts of what we were invade
The miles that stand between
We can’t separate
You’re all I hoped you’d become

Harry sat on his knees next to her and ran comforting circles down her back with his free hand. He marveled at how brave and compassionate she was, even now in the aftermath of war. He thought back to the rules-obsessed know-it-all of their first year and smiled at how different she had become … yet still she remained Hermione. He couldn’t ask for a better friend. She had fought bravely, and now they had the rest of their lives to get back to some semblance of normality. Hermione finally sat back against the wall, shaking and catching her breath.

“Harry, there were so many,” she cried, tears falling down her face. Harry put an arm around her and let her rest her head on his shoulder. Harry felt useful in this new role. No longer was he the beleaguered and reluctant hero…right now he was just Harry: Hermione’s friend. It felt good that he could finally support her instead of the other way around.

“Poor Fred. I want to comfort them, but I’m not sure how,” she cried.

“I know how you feel,” he muttered. She backed away and met his eyes, that familiar all-knowing glance dancing in her dark brown irises.

“Have you spoken with Ginny yet?” she asked. Harry shook his head. Though she was sitting, she had still managed to put her hands on her hips and look at him sternly, puffy eyes and all.

Harry had to laugh to himself. She looked just like good old Hermione, despite all the pain she had suffered. It gave him endless contentment to know his best friend was still there and relatively unscathed. She returned his smile and giggled a little at her own demeanor.

Sister I see you
Dancing on the stage
Of memory
Sister I miss you

“Remember when we were about to go through the trap door during our first year and you were convinced you weren’t going to get expelled because Flitwick told you that you scored 112 percent on your exam?”

Hermione laughed and nodded. “My priorities are a little better now,” she said, rising to her feet. She winced a little as she rose. Harry felt guilt surge further through him. She might always be sore from that horrible night. Harry took her hand, and turned her attention to him. She looked concerned and confused.

“I’m so sorry,” he started.

Hermione went to question him, but he stopped her. He tried to hold back his own tears as he attempted to say what he had wanted to say for weeks now.

“I’m sorry I said his name. I’m sorry we were caught. I’m sorry for what they did to you…what she did. It should have been me,” he said, a tear falling down his cheek. “You’ve always been family to me, you and Ron. I should have…” Harry tried to finish, but couldn’t find his words. Thoughts he had been holding back while he tried to destroy Voldemort were invading his head at an alarming pace. This was just one of many.

Hermione flung her arms around him in her characteristic way and pulled him close.

“That’s nothing compared to the moment I thought you were dead,” she whispered.

Harry lingered there, holding her tightly until she pulled away.

“Come on, let’s go to the common room and get some rest. I’m sure the Weasleys will be staying tonight,” she said gently.

As they made their way back to Gryffindor Tower, Hermione indicated her plans to go to Australia in two days to retrieve her parents. She would spend the next day in London getting their affairs in order, and then she would organize Portkeys to get her to them as soon as possible.

Harry wanted to go with her, but she insisted on doing this on her own, and he expected nothing less.

Fleeting visits pass
Still they satisfy
Reminders of the next
Overshadow goodbye
Our flames burn as one

Harry was impressed at her brilliance and a little shocked at the lengths she went to protect her family. Then again, Ron said it best: Hermione Granger was scary; brilliant, but scary. He had forgotten those little things that made her so brilliant throughout the past year, just taking for granted she would be there. Now that the dust had cleared, he could get a good look at all she did. Harry knew he owed Hermione and Ron more than he could ever repay, not that they would let him repay it anyway.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Ron Weasley straightened his back and attempted to remain stalwart, even amidst his family’s overwhelming grief. He stood next to the table holding Fred, touching sides with Bill and Charlie to create a wall of protection between Fred’s lifeless form and the rest of the Great Hall. Ron struggled to keep himself from crying as his mother wept, her head on Fred’s chest. No tears fell when his father began weeping as well, as he hastily comforted her. Ron kept his delicate composure when he noticed the blank look on George’s face as he held Fred’s head in his lap. Ron even held it together when Fleur walked up and put her arms around Bill’s waist, and he cried on her shoulder. Ron began to falter when Charlie broke down and took Fred’s cold hand, crying into it. At last tears welled in Ron’s eyes as he took in the vision of Percy, who was wiping droplets of tears from his horn-rimmed glasses.

As the pressure of their grief mounted, the only ones left standing in the Weasley family were Ron and Ginny, both of whom were fighting against the desire to fall victim to their anguish. He looked over at his sister, defiant with her jaw clenched as tightly as her fists. She looked torn between wanting to fall next to their parents and her need to stay strong. Ron knew how she was feeling, and he sympathized with the little girl that used to run barefoot through the high grass of their fields. What was going to happen to the fire that had always burned so brightly in her? What was going to happen to their whole family?

Sister I see you
Dancing on the stage
Of memory
Sister I miss you

Percy placed his glasses back on his head and put a tentative arm around Ginny, obviously still unsure of his place in the family…despite their grief. Ron watched in horror as her lips quivered and her brown eyes began to water. She spun her body around, fiery hair flying like a wave, and buried her face into Percy’s chest. She looked more like a little girl than she had in years.

Bill placed his free hand on Ron’s shoulder while Charlie joined him again on the other side. Ron felt safer than he had felt since that awful snake attacked his father. He was with his family, and there was no more danger to threaten them all. Ron finally allowed himself to cry, pushing down the anger and the need for vengeance. He stood there, immersed in the silent vigil of his family until minutes…maybe hours later, Bill cleared his throat and walked over to his father.

“We need to begin arrangements for a funeral,” Bill whispered gently.

“Next to Gideon and Fabian,” said his mother, wiping her tears on a handkerchief Arthur had provided for her.

“I will see to it,” Bill said, rising and taking Fleur’s hand as he walked toward the exit of the hall.

Ron watched his mother stand up slowly, trembling as she did, and clutching his father’s arm.

Ron was finding it hard to move, as if leaving that small corner would prove this was real, that Fred was truly gone. Molly looked as though she was about to speak, but it took a few moments before she found her words.

“We should all try and get some rest. Minerva has offered to put your father and me in one of the staff quarters…” she started, surveying all of her children.

“Fleur and I are going to sleep in Ravenclaw Tower,” said Bill. “Flitwick plans to be awake for a while to do the repairs, and he asked if I would watch over the students who are still here.”

He hugged his father, followed by Fleur, and then kissed his mother on the cheek. She pulled him into a full hug, causing Ron to think that she looked afraid to let him go. Bill obliged by lingering until, at last, she pulled away.

“Charlie, Percy, Ginny, Ron…” Molly started, stopping to look at George, who had not moved from his spot at Fred’s head, “…and George, why don’t you lot go to the Gryffindor common room and try to rest? We’ll head home tomorrow morning when we can be assured everything is safe,” she said, her normally strong voice nothing more than a weak whisper. She threw a sheet over Fred, kissed him softly, and covered his face. Only then did George stand.

Ron walked slowly to his parents, and into the arms of his mother who hugged him tightly.

“My brave boy,” she whispered, causing Ron to feel a wave of something indescribable rush over him. He was simultaneously comforted and sad.

Percy walked beside George, monitoring him, but giving him space as the remaining Weasleys made their way to the tower. Ron followed, listening to the plodding of his large feet along the ruins of the hallway. He could hear Ginny walking next to him, but did little to acknowledge she was there. When they reached the portrait, the Fat Lady simply smiled and swung open. Charlie mumbled a thank you.

“I’m going to the pub,” he said, Disapparating, taking advantage of the lack of wards in the aftermath of the victory. No one protested, too tired, numb, relieved, stricken…too many things to admonish Charlie for drinking.

Ron didn’t know what to expect upon entering the familiar confines of the common room, but to find it empty and cold wasn’t on the list. The morning light was starting to peek through the stained glass, and Ron assumed those who remained were well into sleep. Percy went through all the dormitories to take inventory, and came back stating that the first through fourth years boys’ dorms were empty. He then immediately followed George to the first year boy’s dorm, keeping an unspoken watch on the remaining twin.

Ron knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he saw Harry and Hermione, just to be sure. After months of sharing a small sleeping quarter and depending on each other for safety, he wouldn’t feel completely settled until he saw those two. Ron noticed Ginny still standing in the common room and figured she wasn’t ready to sleep either, though her reasoning was most likely slightly different. Ron set about making a fire to quell the draft of the spring morning.

The radio in the common room flicked on, and Lee Jordan’s voice came rolling out and filling up the room. He was recapping the events of last night. Ron let the words go in one ear and out the other, not wanting to dwell on the good or the bad any more that night. Then, Lee started listing off those that had lost their lives. Ron tried not to listen. He didn’t want Fred’s death to become any more real than it already was.

He silently gathered wood and carefully placed the logs on the hearth. He watched Ginny from the corner of his eye as she sat on the sofa, pulling her legs up so that her chin rested on her knees. She seemed so small, much smaller than normal. Ron flashed back yet again to their early childhood, when Ginny had been literally small, but full of vigor and curiosity. She still maintained some of that youthful spark despite the weight on all their shoulders.

All I am begins with you
Thoughts of hope understood
Half of me breathes in you
Thoughts of love remain true

Being only a year apart, Ron and Ginny were forced to live their young lives out at the same time. Their mother even dressed them in similar clothes, much to their dismay. But seeing his sister, his first friend in his short life, looking so lost, reminded him of every bruised knee and bedtime story, of every bit of mischief and teasing. This hurt was even more visceral that her Harry-inspired heartbreak. His powerfully strong little sister was hurt, just like he was. He took a seat near her on the opposite side of the sofa. They sat in silence, watching the fire crackle wildly against the bone-dry wood.

“Remember when you left for Hogwarts?” Ginny asked, her voice piercing the silence of the nearly vacant room. Ron started at the sudden words and nodded. “Fred said he would send me a toilet seat.”

Ron chuckled slightly at the memory.

“I never told anyone this, but he actually sent one,” she said, smiling through her wet eyes.

“Blimey! Those buggers!” Ron said, a tearful, sad sort of happiness coursing through him. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“Well, it became our inside joke. I would leave it in the weirdest places with messages, and he or George would write back. When they left Hogwarts, I sent the seat to the shop with the words ‘your education’ emblazoned on it and an arrow pointing at the hole.”

Ron laughed, a mirthful, nostalgic laugh, and moved closer to her on the couch. She snuggled next to him like they had done when they were little and she became frightened. He was glad to have her there at that moment.

Entwined, you and I
Our souls speak from across the miles
Intertwined, you and I
Our blood flows from the same inside
Half of me, breathes in you
Thoughts of love remain true

“You knew Fred slept with a stuffed duck, right?” Ron asked, and she nodded. “Well, I got my revenge for the spider incident the summer after third year. I switched it with a live duck. Mum blamed him for all the poo on his pillow!”

“That’s why he chucked Duckworth!” she giggled, growing silent again as the fire crackled even more loudly.

“He didn’t F*CKING deserve it!” Ginny yelled, giving into her sobs. Ron rubbed her back, trying to comfort her and hold in his own pain. He couldn’t, however, and his cries soon mirrored hers. He pulled her close, seeking solace as much as giving it. Eventually, she pulled away.

“I’m such a bloody woman!” she exclaimed, wiping her eyes.

“’S okay,” Ron said, unsure of how to respond. He sat there for a long time, just waiting for their sadness to subside. It would likely be inevitable that their sadness would ebb and flow as they carried on with their lives. Ron could only hope he would always be there when she needed him.

“Hermione kissed me,” he said, hoping his confession might cheer her slightly. When he was younger and she was sad, he’d just pull faces until she couldn’t stop laughing. But now that seemed unlikely, so he proceeded to regale her with the tale.

When he finished talking, she whispered, “About time,” and fell asleep leaning against him. He summoned a blanket, laid it over them both, put his arm around her, and drifted off.

I see you, I feel you
When I close my eyes
I see walking there…
I see you dancing in my mind

A gentle prodding at his shoulder awakened Ron. He opened his eyes to find Harry looking down at him, still dirty, cut, and bruised from battle. Ron shifted slightly and a sleepy groan emanated from Ginny. He placed his fingers on his lips and indicated to Harry that he should do something about Ginny without waking her. With surprising strength for someone of a much smaller stature who hadn’t slept well in almost a year, he scooped Ginny into his arms, tilting his body so her head could rest on his shoulder. He pointed at the stairwell that wouldn’t collapse on them and began walking slowly towards it.

Ron felt delicate fingers curl around his arm to help him up, and looked to see Hermione gazing down at him, concern etched on her face. She looked tired. Her hair was hastily tied up in an unimaginable way, with frizzes and strands falling out unceremoniously around her face. She was thin and pale, months of meager food, running, and fear taking its toll on her physique. But as Ron rose up and stood near her, the faint smell of grass and dirt coming from her, he felt overwhelmed by a barrage of emotions that wanted to all escape him at the same time.

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer to him, her small form fitting perfectly against his broad and bony chest. He couldn’t help but think about how close it all came to ending, how close he had been to losing her. Her screams from the night she was tortured still rang in his mind, and while he knew she had recovered, he still wasn’t accustomed to how fragile and delicate their lives had become in that final month. When she sighed a tired and mildly contented sigh, Ron pulled away, leading her to where Harry and Ginny had gone to rest.

When they got to the door with the number 4 on it, they heard low and anxious voices coming from the other side. Hermione looked up at him, almost as if pleading with him to not interrupt them and just go to bed. He loved how her eyes could communicate so much without saying anything.

Ron took her hand and walked back down the steps to the doorway marked 3. He flicked his wand at the heater to activate it, radiating gentle warmth through his old dorm. Hermione readied the bedclothes of the one that used to be his, so Ron began to do the same to Neville’s. However, Hermione placed her hand on his arm, lowered his wand, and crawled into the open bed. She patted the area beside her, a nervous blush creeping from beyond the dirt and blood smeared on her face. He took off his shoes and socks and climbed next to her.

Without a word she turned to him and pulled him close to her, so that his face was buried in the warmth of her neck. Ron gripped her tightly, so happy she was alive in the same moment that he felt so empty with loss. He let out a few more shaking sobs as her sniffles could be heard above his head. Among the symphony of gentle crying, he drifted into sleep in her arms.

Disclaimer: The characters of and situations of Harry Potter used in this story are the legal property of J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, and AOL Time Warner. We are just borrowing them. No copyright infringement is intended.

Posted in FanficComments (0)

Gravity

An excerpt from Potterwatch by EruditeWitch

Summary: A missing moment from Deathly Hallows. Hermione and Ron deal with the pain of him leaving and the uncertainty of emotions behind his return.
Lyrics by Sarah Bareilles

crop_gravity

Hermione sat at the small table in their little tent, watching Ron fiddling with his wireless. She pretended to be poring over a book on defensive magic as he tried desperately to find a radio show he had listened to at his brother’s. She watched his mouth curve in concentration, watched his broad, thin body bend over different sides of the small radio, and even chuckled silently as he stomped away from the radio like a frustrated child.

It had been two months since he had returned, and she was no closer to openly forgiving him for his desertion. Sure, their companionship was almost back to normal, their way of easy bantering and the obvious teamwork required to make it through, but she hadn’t forgiven him, and he knew it. She could see the pleading behind his eyes every time his met hers, and it made her want to forget it all right there. But he had hurt her too badly this time, and she didn’t know if they could ever be the same. The thought broke her heart, so she avoided his eyes.

Something always brings me back to you.
It never takes too long.
No matter what I say or do,
I’ll still feel you here,
’til the moment I’m gone.

The night he came back, she had never been so happy and so angry in one moment. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and cry when she saw him step awkwardly into the tent, but her broken heart won out and she fought his return. Throughout their long walks, she ached to grasp his hand, but she remembered him leaving as she pleaded for him to stay, so she did nothing.

After they got back from the Lovegoods’, she wanted to fling herself on him in relief, but she did no such thing. Everything was at war in her world, and her heart and head were no exceptions. When he took her side, so to speak, in her argument with Harry about The Deathly Hallows, she wanted to kiss him, but instead she just left for her watch, figuring he was only trying to get on her good side anyway.

Ron was holding back too. On difficult paths, there was no arm beneath hers to hold her steady. When she led the way, there wasn’t a hand on the small of her back to ensure her. And when she was afraid, she had nowhere to find safety as his seat was always farthest away from hers. When they walked, he would shove his hands in his pockets and gaze at her furtively from the corners of his eyes.

Despite her best efforts, despite all of her strength, he was still on her mind every night before she slept. She wanted him when the darkness of their lives took over. She needed him beside her.

You hold me without touch.
You keep me without chains.
Never wanted anything so much,
Then to drown in your love,
And not feel your rain.

Another day, and Ron still had not managed to find the radio show. He finally gave up late one night as Harry walked out of the tent to take the first watch, trying to inconspicuously take the Marauder’s Map with him.

“Well, we’d better rest up. I’ve got the middle shift, so you’ve got to get up quite early,” Ron said, standing up and stretching. Hermione found herself blushing at the thinness of his pajama bottoms as they stretched over his body. She quickly hid her face by getting up and busying herself by preparing her bed for sleep.

“Hermione? If you don’t mind, could you set an alarm so I can get up and send Harry to bed?” Ron asked. Normally he would not be nearly so polite, and this artificial courtesy felt so false and unfamiliar that Hermione found herself missing the old Ron.

“Mmmhmm…” she answered, not trusting her actual words. He reached up with his Deluminator and took out the lights in the sleeping quarter. Soon, she was lulled into an uneasy sleep.

Set me free, leave me be.
I don’t want to fall another moment into your gravity.
Here I am and I stand so tall,
Just the way I’m supposed to be.
But you’re on to me and all over me.

She ran her hands down his bare back as he hovered above her in the camp bed. She sighed when he kissed down her neck and his tongue passed over her bare breasts. She could feel the heat pooling in her center as he whispered her name over and over again.

“My own. ‘Mione. Hermione!”

She sat up abruptly, Ron’s calls waking her from an embarrassing sleep.

“Sorry, but it’s time for your watch. I can do it if you’re…”

“I’m fine, Ronald. I’m not a porcelain doll.”

He chuckled in his old way at her snap, and she couldn’t help but smirk as he tucked back in for the remainder of the morning.

Hermione grabbed Beedle the Bard and settled herself in for the 4-hour morning watch. Approximately halfway through her shift, she heard quiet sounds coming from their tiny kitchen. She peeked her head in to find Ron, lit only by his wand, attempting to make tea.

“What are you doing awake?” she whispered, genuinely concerned.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Are you feeling okay?”

“Fine. I’ve jut got a lot on my mind…of course. I just want to hear how everyone is doing, and I can’t get that damned wireless to work!” he said, looking sadly around the low ceilings of the tent.

“Want some tea? I can sit out there for a few minutes. It’s chilly anyway, and you need to warm up,” he said, giving her a sad smile.

Hermione nodded and climbed into the tent’s entrance as Ron was climbing out. As she walked quietly down the steps, she felt his fingers brush lightly down her back. The feeling gave her chills, and she had to close her eyes before making her tea.

You loved me ’cause I’m fragile.
When I thought that I was strong.
But you touch me for a little while
And all my fragile strength is gone.

As she was making her tea, she reached into her bag and pulled out her homework planner to mark the days off. March 7th…Ron was 18 and he’d never mentioned anything! Her inner turmoil be damned. She pulled out two chocolate biscuits she was saving, and lit a bluebell flame over one.

She walked back out of the tent to find the sun getting ready to come up. Ron was standing against a nearby tree, focused on nothing but whatever was in his head.

Hermione decided to cast her bitterness aside, albeit momentarily, and began to hum a very quiet version of ‘Happy Birthday’. Ron almost jumped out of his skin, but when he saw her, a shy grin spread across his face.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” she asked, levitating a biscuit toward him, avoiding his long fingers as they grasped the sweet treat.

“We’ve been so caught up in other things, I didn’t want to be a distraction.”

Hermione just nodded solemnly. Her birthday had passed without a word.

“Kind of like you did in September? I didn’t even realize until Christm…Well it took me a while.”

“Touche, Ronald,” Hermione said, swallowing a lump in her throat at the period of time he alluded to.

“Hermione, I…”

“No. Not now. I can’t.”

Ron was quiet for a spell, and then went to speak again with an even more apologetic tone.

“Hermione, I need to…”

“Ron! I’m not ready! I can’t.”

“Damnit! You have to let me do this!”

“I don’t have to do anything,” she answered, trying to sound forceful, but failing as her voice quivered.

Ron dropped his teacup, grabbed her shoulders, and turned her to face him. Though he looked cross, his hands felt soft on her shoulders.

“I’m sorry. I’m more sorry than I’ve ever been. I’m ashamed that I deserted you. I’m ashamed I left Harry after I said no matter what that I wouldn’t. I’m a coward. Nothing can change how awful I feel about what I did.” He said, his own voice breaking up. Hermione tried to look away from him, to hide her own tears, which were forming in her eyes. He took his hand and turned her chin toward him, and she saw the horrible pain on his face.

“But I will spend forever making it up to you, even if nothing changes. It’s all I can do,” he whispered the last line, letting go of her shoulders and turning to leave.

“Ron!” she said as he walked away.

He turned his bright blue eyes at her, shining with tears he was desperately fighting.

“I promise…if that even means anything…I will never leave you. Never.” He struggled to speak over a roughness in his throat. Hermione couldn’t compose herself. She wanted to tell him it would be all right. She wanted to tell him he had forever, because she would never leave him either. She wanted to promise him so much. But she held it in. She needed to be strong, or she would never last.

“Eat your biscuit,” she whispered. It was the only thing she could articulate. He smiled, his annoying ability to read her face working overtime. They both hastily wiped their faces before Ron took a bite of his treat. She sighed easily when he placed an arm around her shoulders.

The day went by quickly and soon they were nestled into a new hiding place. Hermione set about trying to read more about The Deathly Hallows in order to prove Harry wrong, but she kept glancing at Ron’s back, bent over his wireless.

Ron’s excited yell pulled her from her not so obvious pretend reading.

“I’ve got it! I’ve got it! Password was ‘Albus’! Get in here, Harry!”

Hermione jumped off her chair and crouched down in between the boys. They all smelled like rain and dirt, but there was such an excitement in the air that it didn’t matter. A person whose voice was vaguely familiar to her began to echo out.

“…apologize for our temporary absence form the airwaves, which was due to a number of house calls in our area by those charming Death Eaters.”

“But that’s Lee Jordan!” Hermione exclaimed. She was so excited to hear a familiar voice, she didn’t realized how closely she had scooted toward Ron.

“I know!” beamed Ron. “Cool, eh?” he said. She marveled at the biggest smile she had seen in weeks.

“…now found ourselves another secure location,” Lee was saying, “and I’m pleased to tell you that two of our regular contributors have joined me here this evening. Evening boys!”

“Hi.”

“Evening, River”

“ ‘River’, that’s Lee,” Ron explained. “They’ve all got code names, but you can usually tell,”

Hermione had to quiet his excited rambling so that she could hear the programme.

“But before we hear from Royal and Romulus,” Lee went on, “let’s take a moment to report those deaths that the Wizarding Wireless Network News and The Daily Prophet don’t think important enough to mention. It is with great regret that we inform our listeners of the murders of Ted Tonks and Dirk Cresswell.”

Hermione looked around, scared to death. She had just heard his voice not long ago. How close were Death Eaters to finding them?

“A goblin by the name of Gornuk was also killed. It is believed that Muggle-born Dean Thomas and a second goblin, both believed to have been traveling with Tonks, Cresswell, and Gornuk, may have escaped. If Dean is listening, or if anyone has any knowledge of his whereabouts, his parents and sisters are desperate for news.”

The radio show went on, with Hermione shushing Ron often, and Kingsley Shacklebolt’s voice booming through the tent. There was defensive advice, news on the Muggle world’s troubles, and even some opinions of how some of the more cowardly wizards were acting. Then, Hermione had to gasp as the ‘Pals of Potter’ segment started, and Hermione whispered, “We know it’s Lupin!” to Ron to keep him from shouting again.

Remus Lupin began to speak of his assuredness that Harry was alive and well, which Hermione had to smile at, because at least those who cared knew he was okay. And then, Lee asked Remus a question that almost made Hermione sob in her already emotional state.

“And what would you say to Harry if you knew he was listening, Romulus?”

“I’d tell him we’re all with him in spirit,” said Lupin, then hesitated slightly. “And I’d tell him to follow his instincts, which are good and nearly always right.”

Hermione could feel her eyes welling up with emotion. She missed them all so much. Everything was so unsure, so shaky. And here their closest friends were, standing by Harry despite no news whatsoever. And yet, Hermione had to remind Harry he wasn’t ALWAYS right, just nearly.

“Oh, didn’t I tell you?” said Ron in surprise at Harry and Hermione’s silent communication. “Bill told me that Professor Lupin is living with Tonks again. And apparently she’s getting pretty big too…”

Hermione marveled at the happy look glazing over his eyes. It almost looked like hope.

“…and our usual update on those friends of Harry Potter’s who are suffering for their allegiance?” Lee was saying.

And Hermione listened with bated breath as tales of Hagrid’s daring escape, Xeno Lovegood’s imprisonment, and more encouragement to keep supporting Harry rang throughout the quiet tent. Then, someone named Rodent was introduced, and no one could contain his or her excitement. They all cried out Fred’s name in unison.

“No — is it George?”

“It’s Fred, I think,” said Ron, leaning in closer, as whichever twin it was said:

“I’m not being ‘Rodent’, no way, I told you I wanted to be Rapier!”

“Oh, all right then. ‘Rapier’, could you please give us your take on the various stories we’ve been hearing about the Chief Death Eater?”

And so Fred went on with the latest news of fact and myth about Voldemort himself. The show was witty, informative, and the most comforting thing Hermione had experienced in ages. Lee’s voice was signing off.

“Listeners, that brings us to the end of another Potterwatch. We don’t know when it will be possible to broadcast again, but you can be sure we shall be back. Keep twiddling those dials. The next password will be ‘Mad-Eye.’ Keep each other safe. Keep faith. Good Night.”

Hermione felt deep, sweeping relief knowing everyone she loved was okay for another day. That is, until she and Harry got into it about the Elder Wand yet again. Then, every little bit of comfort faded away as Harry said his name. Voldemort.

“The name’s Taboo,” Ron bellowed, leaping to his feet as a loud crack sounded outside the tent.

Panic overtook her, and her senses numbed. She could only hear the beating of her own heart in that moment. There were angry voices, but she couldn’t tell what they were saying. One look at Ron said it all.

Ron grabbed her hand and she gathered the strength to curse Harry into disguise before they were ripped from the tent. She fought as hard as she could, but their strong hands were too much.

She heard Ron shout, and then she heard his face get hit hard. Her senses came back.

“No! Leave him alone! Leave him alone!”

“Your boyfriend’s going to have worse that that done to him if he’s on my list,” said the rough voice. “Delicious girl…What a treat…I do enjoy the softness of skin,” he whispered, running a hand down her face. He smelled of blood, a cold metallic smell that made her want to vomit. She cried out as Ron and Harry were pushed to the ground and the men went into the tent.

She felt herself press up against a tall figure, and heard a familiar voice whisper her name. Dean Thomas was standing with his back to hers. She didn’t have time to find her words, when she heard Harry identify himself as Dudley.

Ron tried to call himself Stan Shunpike, and Hermione’s stomach lurched as she heard another hit meet his face. He finally used Barny Weasley as his disguise.

Soon, the offending man was facing her again, asking for her name. Thinking fast, she answered the first name that came into her head.

“Penelope Clearwater,” said Hermione. She was terrified, but kept her voice firm. The buzzing in her head continued, until she felt Harry and Ron press up against either side of her. They could only sit, and lie, as the men searched their tent. Then, they found the sword. Hermione was faint with fear when she heard her name.

“’Ermione Granger,” Scabior was saying, “the Mudblood who is known to be traveling with ‘Arry Potter.”

Hermione’s mouth went dry. She grabbed for a hand behind her back. She had no idea whose she was holding, she just needed the strength to go on. He was talking to her again; she tried to answer the Death Eater.

“It isn’t! It isn’t me!” she cried, but her voice squeaked and gave her away. She hated herself for giving him away. Now they knew it was Harry, and the Death Eaters slowly put the pieces together.

Too soon, they had decided to take them to where Voldemort was headquartered.

I live here on my knees
As I try to make you see
That you’re everything I think I need
Here on the ground.
But you’re neither friend nor foe
Though I can’t seem to let you go.
The one thing that I still know
Is that you’re keeping me down

Hermione panicked when Draco Malfoy was forced to identify their faces, but he turned to shrug it off. She breathed easier, knowing Bellatrix would never summon Voldemort unless she knew for sure who they were holding.

The seconds seemed to pass like agonizing hours as they argued over their identity. Narcissa had picked them all out, and was convinced they had ‘Potter’, but Bellatrix had noticed their sword, and wouldn’t let anyone summon Voldemort yet. More infighting occurred before Bellatrix had overpowered them all and made up her mind.

Narcissa Malfoy had commanded them all be taken into the cellar, and Hermione was relieved to be leaving that room so that she could gather her thoughts.

“Wait,” said Bellatrix sharply. “All except…except for the Mudblood.”

“No!” shouted Ron. “You can have me, keep me!”

As Ron begged for them to keep him, she struggled to say no, to beg for his and Harry’s safety. But they were taken away, and all of those malevolent faces stared back at her. She tried to keep Ron’s eyes in her mind. He was close, and he was safe.

The pain ripped through her, and Hermione wished for death. She couldn’t go on through this pain. She was hoping she’d stop breathing, that she would choke on her own pain and die, ending this horrifying feeling.

Then, she heard Ron calling from somewhere far off. He was screaming desperately for her. Despite all that had transpired, Hermione knew beyond logic that they needed each other, and she had to be strong.

Set me free, leave me be.
I don’t want to fall another moment into your gravity.
Here I am and I stand so tall,
Just the way I’m supposed to be.
But you’re on to me and all over me.

Disclaimer: The characters of and situations of Harry Potter used in this story are the legal property of J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, and AOL Time Warner. We are just borrowing them. No copyright infringement is intended.

Posted in FanficComments (0)