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Jun. 28th, 2004 10:20 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nnyAnother short ficlet. Um... please remember I was half asleep when I wrote this, okay? *g* Notes are at the end.
Two of a Kind
The tall thin shadow slipped alongside Hagrid’s hut, unnoticed by any in the castle, even Dumbledore. He was neither Muggle nor wizard, and when he was carrying out his job the usual laws of nature and magic didn’t apply; the wards so carefully placed were useless against him.
As always, here he paused for a moment. What he wanted, his self-imposed task, lay up at the castle, but he stood for a while and listened to the soft susurrus of the wind through the trees, watched tiny clouds scud across the face of the gibbous moon. The air was not-quite cold, but he pulled his waistcoat closer in against his threadbare shirt in any case, more as a delaying tactic than as a means of providing warmth. For so long, the same ritual- no more than once a month, because he had responsibilities to others besides those here, but…
But it had been too long since there had been another like him.
He took a steadying breath and bent to take a look through one of the hut’s deep-set windows. As he did so, elegant hands were already moving; unsnapping his case and removing the trumpet shaped tool, picking through the carefully selected dreams- an age-old ritual that was beautiful in its simplicity, the spare movements of a craftsman who had grown old with his carefully cared for tools.
It took a second for his eyes to adjust to the dim interior, gently lit as it was by almost-dead ashes in the hearth. The room was, as ever, unchanged- traps hung from the ceiling, the carefully swept floor still had a few feathers in the corners and under the table, and on the rug by the fireplace the dog shifted its massive head on its paws and slept on.
Only one thing was strange- the patchwork blanket on the bed lay smooth. Hagrid had not come home. He sighed, and bent to replace the tools of his craft in the case by his feet… then he halted, and slowly straightened again, thinking. If Hagrid hadn’t returned, then who had lit the fire?
The door of the hut creaked open behind him and he spun around, facing the door as he backed away. Hagrid moved slowly out onto the step, wrapped in a capacious shabby red dressing gown. His face was bruised, his smile pained but genuine, and his voice was soft as though soothing a skittish wild creature.
“Did yeh think I’d not notice yeh? Think I wouldn’ want ter thank yeh for the dreams?” His beard twitched as his smile widened, black eyes glittering in something that was more than welcome. “The kettle’ll be on if yer comin’,” he said, and walked back into the hut, leaving the door open in his wake.
The BFG bent to pick up his case, and followed him inside.
End
***
Okay, I know the relative sizes nothing like match up; I had just woken up when I wrote it, and it felt like a good idea at the time. I had to keep it very very PG because my brain needs enough scrubbing as it is... I apologise for tainting your childhood. =)
Two of a Kind
The tall thin shadow slipped alongside Hagrid’s hut, unnoticed by any in the castle, even Dumbledore. He was neither Muggle nor wizard, and when he was carrying out his job the usual laws of nature and magic didn’t apply; the wards so carefully placed were useless against him.
As always, here he paused for a moment. What he wanted, his self-imposed task, lay up at the castle, but he stood for a while and listened to the soft susurrus of the wind through the trees, watched tiny clouds scud across the face of the gibbous moon. The air was not-quite cold, but he pulled his waistcoat closer in against his threadbare shirt in any case, more as a delaying tactic than as a means of providing warmth. For so long, the same ritual- no more than once a month, because he had responsibilities to others besides those here, but…
But it had been too long since there had been another like him.
He took a steadying breath and bent to take a look through one of the hut’s deep-set windows. As he did so, elegant hands were already moving; unsnapping his case and removing the trumpet shaped tool, picking through the carefully selected dreams- an age-old ritual that was beautiful in its simplicity, the spare movements of a craftsman who had grown old with his carefully cared for tools.
It took a second for his eyes to adjust to the dim interior, gently lit as it was by almost-dead ashes in the hearth. The room was, as ever, unchanged- traps hung from the ceiling, the carefully swept floor still had a few feathers in the corners and under the table, and on the rug by the fireplace the dog shifted its massive head on its paws and slept on.
Only one thing was strange- the patchwork blanket on the bed lay smooth. Hagrid had not come home. He sighed, and bent to replace the tools of his craft in the case by his feet… then he halted, and slowly straightened again, thinking. If Hagrid hadn’t returned, then who had lit the fire?
The door of the hut creaked open behind him and he spun around, facing the door as he backed away. Hagrid moved slowly out onto the step, wrapped in a capacious shabby red dressing gown. His face was bruised, his smile pained but genuine, and his voice was soft as though soothing a skittish wild creature.
“Did yeh think I’d not notice yeh? Think I wouldn’ want ter thank yeh for the dreams?” His beard twitched as his smile widened, black eyes glittering in something that was more than welcome. “The kettle’ll be on if yer comin’,” he said, and walked back into the hut, leaving the door open in his wake.
The BFG bent to pick up his case, and followed him inside.
End
***
Okay, I know the relative sizes nothing like match up; I had just woken up when I wrote it, and it felt like a good idea at the time. I had to keep it very very PG because my brain needs enough scrubbing as it is... I apologise for tainting your childhood. =)
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Date: 2004-06-28 02:33 am (UTC)Me: *forgives you, thinks it's kind of sweet, actually*
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Date: 2004-06-28 06:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-06-28 09:26 am (UTC)You have perverted one of the few things left pure in my life. And I enjoyed it immensely.
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Date: 2004-06-28 10:02 am (UTC)(and is it terribly wrong that it gave me wonka/charlie plotbunnies)
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Hermione/Matilda. That's all I'm sayin'. Please, God, don't let me be the one to write it.
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Date: 2004-06-28 05:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-06-29 12:51 pm (UTC)Well, that would mean getting to read Matilda again. I'll have to get a copy from the library, mine's in Ohio.