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The Paper Owl by Lyndsie
Beginning, End, Middle by Lyndsie
Author's Notes:
This story is based on the drabble-verse I created for the weekly challenges here at FIA Forums. The sections titled 'The Formal Introduction' and 'The Fond Farewell' are the drabbles for the Chance Encounters (The Avian Encounter) and 'Photograph' (The Ageless Memory) challenges, respectively. What comes after is entirely new. I plan to begin each new chapter with one of the drabbles, filling in the gaps between what happens in the first two posted in this chapter. This first chapter is very short, but if you read this week's drabble challenge entry, you should see why.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
The Formal Introduction

She is deathly afraid. The bird is looking at her with murderous intent, and she knows that it is so close it could do permanent damage.

“Ouch!” she shouts as the bird alights from her hand, dragging a claw along her arm unnecessarily. She is examining the scratch when she hears a shout from nearby.

“Blasted bird!” All she sees is the bird flying in the face of a man in a dark coat before she rushes to shoo it away. There is an awkward silence as she realizes who it is that is now sporting a gash down his left cheek.

“Sorry,” she spits out eventually. “I didn’t have any Knuts with me, and I didn’t know the Prophet had such vicious owls.” She cringes at what comes out of her mouth. She wants to exclaim, “But I’m really not poor!” but knows better.

“Err, shall I buy you a drink, make it up to you?” Again, she is appalled at herself. She is sure she is turning violently red at the way his brow is creased.

“I thought you said you hadn’t any money,” he responds after poking at his cheek.

“No, I said I haven’t got any Knuts,” she snaps back, instantly regretting it. “Well, I mean to say, every time I pay them more, they fly off before I can get any change out of their little sack.” She is sure she is imagining the twitch at the corner of his mouth. She realizes she isn’t when he begins to laugh at her.

“All right then,” he responds after a moment, “but you don’t mind if we keep away from Eeylops?”


The Fond Farewell

The photograph was old now, its edges yellowed and curling. The gnarled fingers that held it were thickened with age, and the hand was trembling slightly.

It was, quite literally, a freeze-frame of the happiest moment of his life, taken by accident by a long forgotten girlfriend of one of the twins. They were only in the background, but her smile still warmed him, even from behind the heads of the children playing in the park. It was a static testimony to what had once been.

The figures never moved, and he was jealous of their timeless perfection.


The Story

Being a writer was hard. Sometimes he had absolutely no inspiration. Sometimes he wondered why he hadn’t taken the Ministry job secured for him by his father. Then he remembered how he hated working in offices, pandering to the whims of incompetent superiors. He much preferred pandering from home.

Right now, his biggest problem was with nerves. He considered scrapping the idea of continuing trying to work, but a secret part of him hoped he might be busy all night. The realistic part of him knew that, yes, he probably would have time to finish his piece before tomorrow. He still wanted to finish now, in case things went well enough that he ran out of free time. Except, the same reason that he would have no time was the same reason for the nerves. He had a date later that night.

No woman had ever asked him to go out before, unless you counted Hogsmeade weekends. He decided that he was far enough behind his hormone-driven youth that he really couldn’t—and besides, he didn’t much like to look into the past. It was surprising really, the entire thing. The bird attack was surprising, as was the unexpected kindness of the girl revealed behind the owl. Even more astonishing was that she hadn’t minded being seen in public with him. She had even been an intelligent and funny companion. But the most surprising thing of all wasn’t even that she was a Weasley, but that he had actually enjoyed her company. Since returning to England, he hadn’t really liked being around people.

They’d been getting up to leave, but she hesitated. Looking up at him, she’d smiled and bit her lip, and asked him to dinner. He’d said yes. It was yet to be decided if all the surprises had made him immune to more, or if he was in some sort of shock.

He pushed back his chair and sighed.

Being a writer was hard.


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