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"Absent Memories" [HP] [next-gen] [Albus Severus gen]
So while I was digging through my dusty hard-drives searching for Kat's tree-drabble--WHICH TOTALLY EXISTS, BECAUSE I FOUND IT! SO HA! HA!--I happened upon my own unposted drabble, from the three-pronged challenge that occurred long, long ago... The last date the file was motified was July 8, 2008, or so my computer tells me.
Thus, I now present you with my response to a challenge almost three years old. I know you were all waiting with baited breath, so I shall not postpone your immense pleasure any longer.
--
Title: Absent Memories
Series: Harry Potter
Pairing: None
Genre: General
Word Count: 1,023
Rating: G
Description: Three-pronged drabble challenge to the themes of: an old photograph, a discarded book, and someone’s grandmother. Next-gen.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
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He ran his fingers gently down the faded surface of the photo and smiled when the woman waved excitedly back at him, laughing. Sometimes he liked to pretend that she knew who she was looking at—that she could see him, and was trying to tell him in the only way she could that she was proud of him and missed him.
Even though they’d never met…
Albus Severus sighed. None of the others—not Lily, who had taken her name, not even Teddy, who normally thought in a similar way to Albus—shared his interest in their paternal grandmother. Everyone else always wanted to hear about the Marauder’s many adventures and the infamous pranks of their once-jubilant Uncle George and his late twin brother. Albus had to agree that those tales were always exiting, always hilarious…
…And yet…
They didn’t have the same pull, they didn’t inspire the same type of fascination that she did. Her brilliant green eyes sparkled with hidden knowledge, even in the yellowing photograph, and her silent laughter filled his whole being with a type of contentment that he couldn’t remember experiencing with anything else. Sometimes, when no one else was around, he’d stare desperately into a mirror and try to find that depthless wisdom in his own eyes, which were so very similar to hers. He tried to see in his shy smile her vivacious laughter, tried to see in his stance the same kindness and boundless love that was so implicit in her manner.
But it wasn’t there.
It was only him. Just Albus Severus Potter, completely and totally bereft of any sign that even a tiny fraction of Lily Evans’s spirit might live on in him.
Just him.
And then his mother was calling, and he gave one last glance to the aging photo before reverently placing it back into its slot in the album and running to join his family for dinner.
As he entered the dining room, he caught the tail-end of yet another epic prankster tale and grimaced. He wasn’t quite in the mood for stories filled with knee-slapping humour, not with the ghost of Lily Evans’s eyes still so vivid in his mind.
He helped set the table quietly, easily blocking out the loud voices and gales of laughter and focusing instead on the silence and love that emanated from his grandmother’s wilted photo, and the unique sense inner peace it brought to him.
He was jolted out of his serene thoughts as a rather rude elbow dug sharply into his ribs; he scowled darkly at his sister, who didn’t even bother to fake an innocent expression and merely dragged him to his seat in the most superior manner she could summon, her thick braid waving wildly behind her.
Sometimes he couldn’t hide his nagging envy of his sister Lily’s hair, which was dazzlingly red. True, it was a light, coppery red more akin to their mother than their paternal grandmother, but it was still much more reminiscent of Lily Evans than his own messy, inky locks. Not that the young Lily ever noticed.
“I want to hear about the Marauders today,” she announced boisterously to the entire room as everyone settled down around the table. “Tell me everything, even things you’ve already told me!” Her tiny face was set in a stern, commanding expression, and her whole form rocked with the force of her excitement.
“Lily,” chided their father gently, green eyes twinkling in amusement. “You know it’s not your turn to choose the story tonight.”
Lily pouted, her huge brown eyes filling with tears, and she turned to Albus with her most miserable and pleading expression. “Please, Al? Can we hear about the Marauders? Pleeeease?”
Albus laughed and flicked her freckled nose. “Not after you jabbed me with your elbow. No… I think tonight I want…” He paused thinking quickly. He knew what he really wanted to hear about, of course, but everyone else seemed find stories about the rule-following Lily Evans boring, and their father’s expression had a strange, sad quality to it whenever her name was brought up.
Besides, there wasn’t much to tell. So few facts about her still existed.
“How about… The Chamber of Secrets? Does it really exist?” Might as well learn whether or not James’s little horror stories had any basis to them…
To his surprise, his father shot a startled and slightly panicked look to his mother. Was this whole legend more truthful than he’d thought? Ginny made a face and gave her husband a grumpy and oddly embarrassed nod.
That was weird…
As his father began to tell the tale, Albus could feel his eyes widening to the size of saucers, and everyone in the room listened closely to the strange events that had occurred in Hogwarts not so long ago. He couldn’t picture his brash, fiery mother ever playing the part of the shy girl that his father described, nor could he imagine a time in which his father hadn’t gazed at his wife with the passion that so mortified his children.
Was this for real? Could people really change so much?
And that all of this trouble had been caused by a book of all things was ludicrous. That a tiny, discarded diary, even if it was possessed by the most powerful dark wizard of all time, could attack people was utterly ridiculous. This story couldn’t be true…
Still, it made him think. Apparently, his mother had put forth an extreme amount of effort to be the one that the great Harry Potter fell in love with, yet he didn’t even notice her. And then, as soon as she started to just be herself, he began to fancy her.
Was that right? Was the best way to be the person you most want to be to just act like yourself?
As soon as the table had been cleared, he ran up to his room, locked himself inside, and stared furiously into his mirror, focusing on his own life, his own emotions, his own mind.
And the eyes of Lily Evans looked back at him, smiling.
END
--
[You do realize, Kat, that now you have to post your missing fanfic, too? It's required, man.]
--
.
-
--
---
<[Fanfiction Masterlist can be found here.]
Thus, I now present you with my response to a challenge almost three years old. I know you were all waiting with baited breath, so I shall not postpone your immense pleasure any longer.
--
Title: Absent Memories
Series: Harry Potter
Pairing: None
Genre: General
Word Count: 1,023
Rating: G
Description: Three-pronged drabble challenge to the themes of: an old photograph, a discarded book, and someone’s grandmother. Next-gen.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
--
He ran his fingers gently down the faded surface of the photo and smiled when the woman waved excitedly back at him, laughing. Sometimes he liked to pretend that she knew who she was looking at—that she could see him, and was trying to tell him in the only way she could that she was proud of him and missed him.
Even though they’d never met…
Albus Severus sighed. None of the others—not Lily, who had taken her name, not even Teddy, who normally thought in a similar way to Albus—shared his interest in their paternal grandmother. Everyone else always wanted to hear about the Marauder’s many adventures and the infamous pranks of their once-jubilant Uncle George and his late twin brother. Albus had to agree that those tales were always exiting, always hilarious…
…And yet…
They didn’t have the same pull, they didn’t inspire the same type of fascination that she did. Her brilliant green eyes sparkled with hidden knowledge, even in the yellowing photograph, and her silent laughter filled his whole being with a type of contentment that he couldn’t remember experiencing with anything else. Sometimes, when no one else was around, he’d stare desperately into a mirror and try to find that depthless wisdom in his own eyes, which were so very similar to hers. He tried to see in his shy smile her vivacious laughter, tried to see in his stance the same kindness and boundless love that was so implicit in her manner.
But it wasn’t there.
It was only him. Just Albus Severus Potter, completely and totally bereft of any sign that even a tiny fraction of Lily Evans’s spirit might live on in him.
Just him.
And then his mother was calling, and he gave one last glance to the aging photo before reverently placing it back into its slot in the album and running to join his family for dinner.
As he entered the dining room, he caught the tail-end of yet another epic prankster tale and grimaced. He wasn’t quite in the mood for stories filled with knee-slapping humour, not with the ghost of Lily Evans’s eyes still so vivid in his mind.
He helped set the table quietly, easily blocking out the loud voices and gales of laughter and focusing instead on the silence and love that emanated from his grandmother’s wilted photo, and the unique sense inner peace it brought to him.
He was jolted out of his serene thoughts as a rather rude elbow dug sharply into his ribs; he scowled darkly at his sister, who didn’t even bother to fake an innocent expression and merely dragged him to his seat in the most superior manner she could summon, her thick braid waving wildly behind her.
Sometimes he couldn’t hide his nagging envy of his sister Lily’s hair, which was dazzlingly red. True, it was a light, coppery red more akin to their mother than their paternal grandmother, but it was still much more reminiscent of Lily Evans than his own messy, inky locks. Not that the young Lily ever noticed.
“I want to hear about the Marauders today,” she announced boisterously to the entire room as everyone settled down around the table. “Tell me everything, even things you’ve already told me!” Her tiny face was set in a stern, commanding expression, and her whole form rocked with the force of her excitement.
“Lily,” chided their father gently, green eyes twinkling in amusement. “You know it’s not your turn to choose the story tonight.”
Lily pouted, her huge brown eyes filling with tears, and she turned to Albus with her most miserable and pleading expression. “Please, Al? Can we hear about the Marauders? Pleeeease?”
Albus laughed and flicked her freckled nose. “Not after you jabbed me with your elbow. No… I think tonight I want…” He paused thinking quickly. He knew what he really wanted to hear about, of course, but everyone else seemed find stories about the rule-following Lily Evans boring, and their father’s expression had a strange, sad quality to it whenever her name was brought up.
Besides, there wasn’t much to tell. So few facts about her still existed.
“How about… The Chamber of Secrets? Does it really exist?” Might as well learn whether or not James’s little horror stories had any basis to them…
To his surprise, his father shot a startled and slightly panicked look to his mother. Was this whole legend more truthful than he’d thought? Ginny made a face and gave her husband a grumpy and oddly embarrassed nod.
That was weird…
As his father began to tell the tale, Albus could feel his eyes widening to the size of saucers, and everyone in the room listened closely to the strange events that had occurred in Hogwarts not so long ago. He couldn’t picture his brash, fiery mother ever playing the part of the shy girl that his father described, nor could he imagine a time in which his father hadn’t gazed at his wife with the passion that so mortified his children.
Was this for real? Could people really change so much?
And that all of this trouble had been caused by a book of all things was ludicrous. That a tiny, discarded diary, even if it was possessed by the most powerful dark wizard of all time, could attack people was utterly ridiculous. This story couldn’t be true…
Still, it made him think. Apparently, his mother had put forth an extreme amount of effort to be the one that the great Harry Potter fell in love with, yet he didn’t even notice her. And then, as soon as she started to just be herself, he began to fancy her.
Was that right? Was the best way to be the person you most want to be to just act like yourself?
As soon as the table had been cleared, he ran up to his room, locked himself inside, and stared furiously into his mirror, focusing on his own life, his own emotions, his own mind.
And the eyes of Lily Evans looked back at him, smiling.
END
--
[You do realize, Kat, that now you have to post your missing fanfic, too? It's required, man.]
--
.
-
--
---
<[Fanfiction Masterlist can be found here.]