Okay, I was going through old stuff on my computer and I stumbled accross several pieces I had written or considered incorporating into my various fics that won't work now, either forcanonical reasons or just because I no longer like the ideas presented in them. But I decided topublish them as a matter of interest,because some of them are rather clever, if I do say so myself. Some incorporate HBP, but a good deal of them are pre-HBP or even pre-OotP. Some are diatribes from a certain character's perspective, some are significant portions of a story I don't have the ambition to finish. But you never know, I may decide to expound on some of them should someone request it.
That being said, I give you piece number one: this first one I wrote from Harry's perspective regarding all the comments about his immense thick-headedness, pre-HBP, of course. Not really meant to be taken all that seriously---it just made me laugh.
Harry Demonstrates the Use of Italics
I think it's funny that everyone laughs at me and Ron for being 'blind'. Actually it's not funny, its bloody irritating. Who honestly thinks that Ron hasn't noticed how the thought of Hermione so much as talking to another boy makes him want to toss his biscuits? Not that we've ever talked about it, but a lot of things go unspoken between me and Ron. He knows how he feels about Hermione—I'm fairly sure she feels the same way about him, but it'd be a bit rich for me to give him any sort of relationship advice, don't you think? And besides I'm only guessing.
Hermione can keep secrets from me; she has—big ones, on several occasions, it would appear to me that she's got feelings for Ron, but I don't know as I'd bet much gold on that wager, just because my social instincts for these things are probably about as keen as those of a toad.
And speaking of 'blindness' I'm not, contrary to popular belief, some bumbling tosser who walks around with his eyes crossed. Yes—I've seen Ginny Weasley. I know she's pretty. I do, but if you think that I can't just not think about someone in that way you're severely underestimating my heightened state of personal awareness and powerful mental discipline.
So she's pretty and funny and smart and cool—big deal!—is my emotional dinner plate not full enough for everyone yet? Is it not enough that I'm supposed to do the entire world's dirty work and murder some wizard that I don't even have the emotional energy to hate anymore unless I've had a decent night's sleep and a good hearty breakfast because he's taken so much from me that it's almost comical?
Does anyone else not think it's a brilliant idea to go falling head over arse for a member of my adoptive family at this point who quite obviously doesn't want to fancy me anymore and is dating my dormmate? How many people would be chuffed with me if I just skived off my 'fate duties' for the next century or so to go fall in love and make out with my girlfriend and just let the Deatheaters pick off the population one by one because—oh FINE—I admit it! That's what would happen! I'd fall so hard I'd never get up again—never get out of bed. I'd turn to mush—sentimental, sappy mush.
Why why why—would I fancy that? Because she's pretty? Because she's funny? So pretty—so funny that I could never bring myself to hurt anyone again? and that I'd be a defenseless, self-indulgent prat who couldn't keep his hands off her long enough to hold a wand? I don't think...
So you can all just take those knowing smiles and furtive looks from off your face because you're messing with my head while I'm under more pressure than you even like to think about.