Author's Note: I watched HP7: Part I this morning in IMAX. And loved every second of it—much more than I liked the book, actually (we're not going to talk about my opinions of HP7 the book). Basically, this means, I've fired up Word because of this and I shall attempt to write a bit more. Part 7a is also on the writing block, look for that once the spoiler rush fades somewhat.
Generic disclaimer rundown: 1) Spoilers though Half-Blood Prince. 2) Definitely, definitely, definitely AU as of Season 2, and probably AU for the Back 9 of Season 1. Got all that? Good, great awesome.
Artie is slightly offended I spend most of the sixth movie finishing up our Hogwarts costumes while watching it instead of lying on his stomach like I usually do. (I make it up to him later.)
Slughorn graces the screen, dragon blood and all, as I hum along with the familiar theme tune and carefully keep hand stitching the robes. Sure, I could just buy robes, like I'd bought all the rest of the costume, but robes are stupid expensive online. Besides, I actually like to sew, so this isn't so bad. I find the process very nearly relaxing. (Save the pouting boyfriend on the sofa, of course.)
"Nice armchair," I say, my fingers deftly working their way through the needle and thread. "Too bad he's not so fantastic of a teacher."
Artie sighs. "You have to admit the dragon's blood was a decent touch. There's nothing wrong with wanting to be safe. Things just keep getting darker and nastier from here on out."
"Oh, so it turns into a fantastic array of kill 'em all?" I'm not wholly amused, but keep stitching and watching. I think about digging out my sewing machine, but that thing is loud and I have a nasty tendency to try and sew my fingers together, so yeah. Sticking with the hand stitching.
"I'm not saying a word." Artie pouts. "Not unless you join me on the sofa."
"As soon as I finish your robe," I say, "it's not my fault you're so-oh my god. Why does Narcissa Malfoy have skunk hair? Two tone hair. Whatever the hell it is. Did she let Draco use all the hair bleach again? Isn't there some kind of spell for that crap? Because the skunk do looks absolutely horrible. Horrific. Nightmarish. Terrible."
"Why don't you tell us how you really feel," says Artie dryly. "Go on. I didn't think you'd be so wigged out by a character's hair color, of all things."
"It's personal," I mutter, pointing with my needle to my own brightly streaked hair. (Okay, so mine are fake streaks, thanks to a beautiful thing called extensions, but seriously, beyond the point.) "I take personal offense at badly done hair."
"Uh-huh. Sure." Artie rolls his eyes at me. "If I didn't know better, I would think that critique would have been something to come out of Kurt's mouth, not yours."
I'm considering a smart-alec reply, but Fred and George's joke shop appears on the screen, and that's enough to distract me for the moment. "If only all of those bits and tricks were real. They'd be so cool. Peruvian Darkness Powder."
"We'd be able to retaliate," replies Artie. "A slushie to the face? Oh, here, why don't you try some of these puking pastilles instead. It's a delicious, delicious candy."
"That you'll be seriously regretting having in twenty minutes or less." I chuckle heartily and set my needle and thread aside. "That'd be nice."
"Do you wish you could fight back some days?" asks Artie quietly. "Against the bullies?"
"It's nice to dream, but I don't think I could actually confront anyone. That's too much, even for me to think about." I make a face and try not to think about it too hard. It just gets me sad, and epic movie marathons are not the time or place to be sad.
"Well, there's Luna. Luna makes everything better." Artie smiles and pats his lap, which only makes me want to lay my head there. (So I do.)
"That's true," I admit. "She's so delightfully dotty. I think I like her off the wall approach to life. Even if she is a space case. She's a very nice space case."
"Someone's a fan," says Artie. He pokes me in the stomach, which makes me giggle and slap his hand away.
"Well, why not?" I reply. "She's sweet, goofy, and has a very ...unique sense of style. There is so much to love about her, I'll have you know."
"I'm sure that you are right. She's sweet. However, I am a bigger fan of Tina Cohen Cho Chang." Artie smiles and pokes my stomach again.
"Now that was ridiculous." I roll over to my side and prepares to be entertained by Ron and Harry's attempts at potion-making 101. She raises an eyebrow when the Felix Felicis is revealed.
"Oh, the plot device of liquid luck." Artie tangles his hand through my hair. "I kind of thought it was a cheap trick to include that in this book, especially given... her take on matters in book seven."
"The aforementioned kill 'em all." I nod and resist the urge to close my eyes. Artie's lap is so comfortable, and Half-Blood Prince wasn't my favorite by a long shot. But I'm determined to get through the movie, so I can be formally and properly educated before the opening of Seven. So I sit up and stretch and promptly roll off the sofa.
"Are you okay?" asks Artie. He stares down at me from his spot on the sofa, hand on the pause button.
I nod, sitting on the floor and reaching for my needle and thread. "Nothing's wounded but my pride. Now restart that movie, okay? I have a strange and sudden urge to see Ron attempt to be a Keeper and fail miserably at it. I know that scene's coming up next. Won-won!"
"Well, Cormac first," I say. "But the Won-Won part is the really awesome thing."
"It's hilarious and awful, that whole romantic subplot," says Artie brightly. "Do you think that we were that bad when it came to romance and stuff?"
"We had our moments," I assure him, "but I never got the fool idea in my head to call you Art-Fart or whatever the hell Artie would be in baby talk, so I think that makes us okay."
"The best you can come up with is Art-Fart?"
"I was thinking under pressure, okay?"
Artie tosses a candy wrapper at me. This of course, has me tossing a piece of scrap fabric at him. He catches it nimbly and throws it back in my face. The two of us repeat the gesture in a teasing back and forth for a few minutes before the scrap piece of fabric gets tangled up in my hair barrette, and rips when I go to yank it off.
"Okay, that's enough of that," I say smoothly, tossing the scrap back into the pile and going back to work on his costume. "What do you think of ...Ravenclaw, right? I'll have to find my blue fabric paint."
"You are going all out on this aren't you?" Artie sounds vaguely awestruck, and I grin at him.
"Yep!" I say cheerfully, proudly digging out the yellow and black Hufflepuff tie I'd made for myself earlier that day. "Isn't it awesome? Fake Hedwig doll was wearing it earlier, which might be the tie's permanent home after this movie."
"I think you are way too attached to that fake Hedwig doll."
I giggle. "Jealous?"
"Nope," says Artie proudly. "You like me better."
"This is definitely, really true." I return to my costume-making. "Also, I promise I like you so much that I won't ever send a flock of killer birds on you if I get upset for no apparent reason."
"That's a comfort," says Artie with a roll of his eyes. "So, does this mean that all I have to fear is your blade of equality?"
Cue dramatic blushing on my part. "Well, maybe. But only if I'm upset again. Everyone needs a gimmick." This is when I decide that the sewing and the movie are extremely, exceptionally interesting. That way I don't have to look Artie in the eyes until my ears stop burning.
Half-Blood Prince ticks on in relative silence, not necessarily awkward, just not exactly as comfortable as it was twenty minutes earlier. Desperate to try and get back some semblance of order, I decide to comment. "Oh hey there, love potion gone horribly astray. Romilda Vane? Seriously. Ron, tsk, tsk. Even Lavender is at least ...nice?"
"Something tells me you don't think all that highly of either girl, Tee."
"That obvious, apparently."
"Yes, that obvious." Artie sits up on the sofa, patting the spot next to him invitingly. "Come here, you."
Grateful for the invitation, I curl up with my head on is shoulder. He wraps his arm around my waist, and watching the rest of the movie is a lot nicer. Not that I necessarily pay attention, especially when Artie's hand moves slightly south to rest on the top of my thigh, but I'm definitely not complaining one bit.
"Oh, by the way," says Artie before he leans in to give me a kiss, "Movie Seven? Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows? Guess what? The one we're going to see Thursday night is only Part One."
"What? Part one?" I give him a curious look. "You mean they divided the movie up into two parts?"
"Yes, exactly. So we get to do it all again in about six months." Artie beams at me and looks overly excited.
"So the magic isn't over yet." I bite my lip and think this over carefully. "Cool. Does this mean we'll get to do it again before Part Two?"
Artie gives me a light, playful kiss. "Definitely, yes. We can have even more fun when we marathon it again, woman."
"Fun, if that's what you want to call it," I say brightly with a playful wink. "Or we can call it being total geeks."
"Well that too, of course." Artie looks completely over the moon.
I nudge him in the ribs with my elbow. "Fine, but you're getting the tickets. You did get the tickets for the midnight showing, right?"
Artie gives me a "duh" expression. "No. We're going to sneak into the theater like ninjas. Yes. I bought the tickets three days ago."
"Oh!" I grin. "Awesome boyfriend."
"Of course, woman."
"So," I say carefully. "What did you think of the ending? I thought that Dumbledore had... bound Harry so he couldn't try anything. That seems like a major difference, and kind of a ...not so awesome missing plot point."
"I kiss you and now you decide you want to discuss the movie that we just saw." Artie groans.
"You're the film geek. I'm just along for the ride," I reply. "But basically, Snape is odd, Narcissa needs a dye job, Malfoy ...is Malfoy, Ginny isn't my favorite by a long shot, Lavender is amusing, Luna is awesome, totally awesome, and ...is it bad I'm not too sad Dumbledore died?"
"Interesting summarization." Artie chuckles. "No, remember what you said. Seven is the one where everyone and anyone dies for all sorts of reasons. Dumbledore was supposed to die. The mentor needs to pass on so that the hero can grow beyond the lessons he was taught. Its all about proving one's self worth and completing the hero's journey. A very typical storytelling plot."
"You know, it's kind of hot when you go all film geek on me."
"It... is?" Artie's voice cracks slightly.
I shrug. "Kind of. Also a little boring, but it's nice to see you so passionate about something."
"I'm passionate about you?" he says.
"More like my passion gets you all worked up, Artie."
He shrugs. "That's not a bad thing."
"If you say so." I smile at him. "So now what? We've officially made it through six out of seven... well, now eight. But six out of the seven that are out or will be out in the near future. Thursday is going to be crazy."
"And fun. Don't forget the fun, Tina."
"Absolutely not. All of this Harry Potter mania almost makes me want to reread some of the books. Almost."
"Just almost?" Artie gives me a smirk.
"Some of those books are total doorstoppers, Art." I shake my head. "But I might. I can't believe they practically wrote Tonks out of the movies. And Bill and Fleur! I wonder how they're going to write themselves out of all of these plot holes in time for Seven?"
"Seven, part one," corrects Artie. "And I guess they will. I mean, the trailers seemed pretty awesome. Besides, splitting it up into two parts can probably only mean good things in terms of getting a more cohesive storyline."
"They probably should have started two-part movies after Prisoner of Azkaban," I say thoughtfully. "But you do have a point."
"I always have a point, woman." Artie reaches for his cell phone. "My parents are out tonight. What do you say to ordering a pizza and making out on the sofa while we watch some of the special features?"
"What is it with you and the special features?" I giggle and poke him in the stomach. "But okay, sure. Only you're buying the pizza, got it?"
Artie grins at me. "As you wish, my dearest Tina Cohen Cho Chang."
"Please don't ever call me that in public."