Author's Note: This was written for ladybracknell for the drabble ficlet meme on Livejournal. She first requested Sirius Black and Dishevelled and then wanted something Mitchell/Annie from Being Human and warm. So I created this...
I don't own either Being Human or Harry Potter. But wouldn't it be cool if I did?
"If you were a character in Harry Potter, who would you be?"
Annie set down the kettle and turned from the stove to look at Mitchell sitting at the table. His hands were resting on the table, fingers drumming lightly against the countertop while he waited for her answer. She had to admit to be slightly taken aback by the silliness of his question, but the look on his face was serious, as if he considered such a thing to be important as world peace and feeding the hungry.
"I can't say that I've ever really thought about it. Why would you even think about something as stupid as that?"
"You and I are eternal, meaning that we have lots of time to think about lots of things, stupid or not. And Harry Potter isn't stupid. Seeing those books released was watching a phenomenon in the making. Four hundred years from now you'll be able to regale all the new ghosts and vampires and humans about how you remember when they came out, skyrocketing your popularity instantly," Mitchell paused and a smile pulled at his lips, "Plus, it's a good story. All magic and adventure."
Picking up the kettle again, Annie poured two mugs of tea and set them down at the table, taking the seat beside Mitchell. Mitchell picked his up, blowing on it before taking a sip, making that little sound that only Mitchell makes when the tea first hits his tongue – a little moan of satisfaction, a hiss of delight. Annie smiled and wrapped her hands around the mug feeling the warmth seep into her hands. It was the only time she felt it that way, and it made her feel slightly less transparent. More solid. More firmly planted in the here and now.
"I'll have to think about this a bit. What about George? Have you asked him or is this simply a question for those of us among the undead?"
"You know George. Went for the obvious and said that because of what he is he has to be Lupin. Seems to think that being a werewolf is all that he is." He shook his head and waved his hand through the air, chastising George's opinions as though he was in the room with them. "How can he be Lupin when his personality screams Ron? Honestly, that man is ridiculous."
Nodding, Annie took a sip of her tea. "Ron is the red headed kid, right?"
Eyes widening as the shock crossed his face, Mitchell lowered his tea slowly. "How do you not know for certain who Ron is?"
"Sometimes I forget what all the characters names are when I watch films."
"Films? You haven't read the books?"
With a small shrug she said, "Never saw the point. Why take a couple days to read a book when I can watch the film in just two hours? And now that I'm a ghost, I can just go into the cinema and don't even need to pay. It's a win-win situation."
"You can't possibly make an informed decision without having read the books. The movies are like comparing a Big Mac to prime rib. I'm sure that it has some of the same product in there somewhere, but it isn't right." He closed his eyes and sighed deeply, and immediately Annie knew that this was a serious matter in the eyes of Mitchell, not something could be simply laughed away. "I wasn't aware that there was anyone left on the planet who hadn't read Harry Potter. In fact, I'm not even sure I can talk to you right now. This is just so disappointing. I thought I knew you." He stood and walked slowly out of the kitchen, tea abandoned on the table, muttering something that Annie couldn't quite hear. She heard him climb the stairs to his room and then minutes later he was back downstairs, headed out the door, his words saying something along the lines of work and hospital and later, but she wasn't listening.
Her tea had gone cold, shattering her illusion of being like everyone else, present in reality.
Later that evening she wandered through the silent house, tidying up the tables as she passed them, contemplated washing the kitchen floor and waited for Mitchell and George to come home. When they were home with her she couldn't think of a place that she would rather be, all snug in their house, though when she was alone she couldn't decide which was worse – being in the house or not being in the house. In either scenario she was alone and no one saw her. It was like the analogy of the tree falling in the forest. If a ghost is alone in a house, does it truly exist?
Trying to shake away her thoughts she climbed the stairs as quick as she could, taking them at a run two at a time, and went into her bedroom, remembering that she had thought the window could do with a good cleaning that morning. Crossing the room, something caught her eye on the bedside table.
A book was there that hadn't been there before, as Annie had never been much of a reader and couldn't remember ever reading in bed. It was obviously a well read copy, with the cover being tattered and some of the pages bent, marking the previous readers place. She turned it over, laughing when she saw what the title was: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone.
Cracking open the cover, there was a note slipped in, right in front of the first page.
"Well, get reading! ~ M."
The lonely feeling that Annie had been carrying with her since Mitchell had left the kitchen was instantly gone at the sight of his words. He wasn't there, but his note was enough to ensure that he thought she existed when no one else did. She laughed, crawled into the bed, snuggled under the covers and took the advice of the nicest vampire she had ever made tea for.
Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.
Annie hadn't see Mitchell for three days.
She had never really thought about the advantages that there were of being a ghost. Usually she missed having the ability to do mundane things – eat, sleep, use the loo – but she hadn't considered the advantages to not having to do these things. She could survive in the desert for months. In case of zombie attack she wouldn't have to worry about being caught while sleeping. Never having to rush to the toilet at the pub to find that they are all occupied. And at that moment, nothing could top not having to leave her room for anything while she was completely enthralled in the world of Harry Potter.
Page after page she devoured, only getting up to leave when a book was finished. Each time this happened she would open her bedroom door only to find the next book in the series sitting on the floor waiting for her and she eagerly replaced the read one with next in line.
74 hours later, she was done. Epilogue finished, she closed the book and looked to the window, where she was a little surprised to see that the sun was rising. For the first time in days, she heard someone downstairs rummaging in the kitchen. Whoever it was, didn't seem to be able to find what they were looking for, when something crashed to the ground and Annie heard a string of swearing. Mitchell. She ran to the door and was down the stairs before she could process it.
He was standing in the kitchen, roast pan on the floor, kettle whistling on the stovetop. "So?"
"Well, the obvious answer is that I'm the Grey Lady, because you know the whole 'ghost who was killed by my lover and is pissed about it' thing. But now I'm thinking that I'm more Tralawney. A little flighty and people in her life think she's a bit crazy, but can tap into powers that she was completely unaware that she has. What house do you think she was in? I definitely think that I'm a Hufflepuff."
Mitchell smiled and Annie found herself being ushered to the table, and found a cup of tea being placed in front of her. "I take it you liked the books then?"
"Of course I did! And I will admit that you were right. The films are alright but the books are magic."
"Imagine that. A magical book about wizards."
"Oh, shush." She punched his shoulder lightly and grinned at the sound of a slight slapping noise. More and more often she was finding herself able to make solid contact with Mitchell, not just passing through like everything else. "If I'm Tralawney, who are you?"
"Me? Oh, I'm Sirius Black."
"You don't see the resemblance? Something unexpectedly bad happened when we tried to protect our friends from death. Having to reintegrate back into society. Having to hide our true selves from almost everyone except for a select few." Smirking slightly he added, "Plus we are both have this brooding, bad boy quality about us that women just can't resist. Not to mention the gorgeous dishevelled black hair."
"But he can turn into a dog."
"Mere details. I'm a vampire. I can turn into a bat."
Annie nearly dropped her mug, tea sloshing over the edges onto the table "Really?"
"Of course not. But you believed it for a second there, didn't you?" Never in the history of the universe had anyone winking annoyed anyone as much as Mitchell's did at that moment.
"Prat. Sirius was killed by drapery. Do you have a curtain phobia that I am not aware of?"
Mitchell leaned in and motioned for Annie to do the same. "I'm obviously hoping that when the time comes my death will be a little more elegant. And I hope you realise that I have blinds, not curtains, in my room."