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Disclaimer: Blah blah blah, you know the drill. Don’t bug me about it. Same goes for the Robert Frost poem.
A/N 1: Just for reference, the singing Valentine that Ginny sent to Harry In COS goes, ‘His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad/ His hair is as black as a blackboard/ I wish he was mine, he’s really divine/ the hero who conquered the Dark Lord.’
A/N: If anybody is interested in beta-ing, please e-mail me at yellowpages20@yahoo.com
I used to think everything was black and white.
Voldemort was evil, the Order was good. The Chudley Cannons would never again win the championship, but Ron would continue to root for them. Snape was a greasy git and McGonagall was the patron saint of Gryffindors. The Malfoys and the Weasleys would always hate each other.
These were the truths I relied on every day. They helped me make my decisions, whether conscious of it or not, and they justified that decision once it had been made.
But one day, the truth I had always relied on, the one truth that I could always count on as the truth, I suddenly found I couldn't.
The Malfoys would always hate the Weasleys.
Suddenly, this little truth, had become a big white, lie. And my world, before a world of sharp black and white, became a world of gray.
The Weasleys would always hate the Malfoys.
And why? Because, our ancestors had ensured that. . .
Cedric and Thomas Prewett. Cedric, ancestor of the Malfoy family (as I'm sure you will guess) and the older but sadly not the wiser of the two brothers, grew angry at the Muggles' shunning of all things magic. He sought to put an end to it in a series of bloody rampages throughout what is now Great Britain and Ireland.
Thomas was ancestor of the Weasley family and the more diplomatic of the brothers.
"Brother," Thomas urged. "You must stop these killings!"
"Why should I? They seek to destroy us, so why should we not destroy them first?" Cedric snarled.
"They seek to destroy us because they do not understand us! Violence is not the answer, we must educate them in our ways, show them that we are humans just like them!"
"They are evil," Cedric growled. "They burn, pillage, and loot our villages! They kill our kind and make us fearful enough that we must hide our powers. Our only chance at survival is to crush them first. And when we crush them may we wish them an eternity rotting in hell!"
Thomas let out an anguished cry, but rallied for a last argument. "Please, Brother! The Muggles are only ignorant. And ignorance is the root of all evil! The path you are on can lead only to perdition! And I warn you, if you stay on the path you are on now, I cannot see you again. My path will lead me a different way, into conflicting territory. Please, Brother, Cedric, do not make me leave you. Please. For our world, but also for us, please."
But Cedric ignored his brother's pleas and continued on his path.
The rift that tensions and conflicting opinions had created between the two deepened into a canyon of discord and hate, and the stories were passed down through the generations synonymously, and embellished and pulled and twisted until they told almost nothing of the truth, and only sparked the hate between the two families.
And the rip in the family fabric has existed to this day. The spite and vengeful spirit between our two families had existed for centuries before my little insignificant self came along. It had existed before me, and it existed until the day all lines were erased, and all the canyon walls tumbled down, and until barriers all over bowed down to the realm of possibility.
But we are not speaking of an epic battle, as perhaps my words have suggested. We are talking of a little luck, a little chemistry, and a boy and a girl. A girl who watched a boy, beautiful in his aloofness. A boy who watched a girl, enviable because of her love that she both gave and received so freely. This is a story of a boy and a girl, both insignificant in the scheme of things. A story, simply, of a boy who, in his showy act of rebellion against his family, saw an excuse to get to knowintimately (He was a teenage boy after all), the girl previously unattainable. And the girl, seeking excitement and romance (though not as naively as she once had) said yes. And the girl and the boy took the path less traveled.
So the boy and the girl went on a date. They chatted of forgettable things and both were careful not to mention sore subjects. Except for the one time, when the boy ordered fresh pickled toad, and upon its arrival, took a bite and declared it simply divine, and had drawn out the 'I'. So the girl laughed at this and admitted that she had it coming when she had written that absolute piece of rubbish back so long ago. With anybody else, the date would have been forgettable. Except the date was more than their interaction. It was Them
and that made all the difference.
After linner (because if there was a cross between lunch and breakfast, why not lunch and dinner, the boy protested) they walked through the back alleys of Hogsmeade on their way back to the castle. It wasn't as if they were hiding the truth, after all, most of the student population had known of their impending date. (And if the girl's brother didn't know, well then he was simply too dense for his own good, and the girl's chronic forgetfulness, which occurred whenever the chance presented itself to tell him, was none of her fault.) It was simply that they didn't want to face the stares and finger-pointing they would surely be subjected to should they appear together.
So they walked through alleys until they saw the girl's brother and a certain girl rounding the corner less than a block in front of them. Thankfully, the girl with hair like a shrubbery dropped her books and bent down to pick them up, effectively averting the brother's gaze and providing the boy and the girl with distraction enough to get away.
The boy pulled the girl down a side alley, and then turned into another so that they couldn't be seen. Then they leaned against the walls of the alley across from each other and laughed, with adrenaline and the excitement of it all. The girl thought his laugh sounded rather like a bark, and she found it quite adorable. The boy thought her laugh sounded like a two year olds’ but in a good way, and found it surprisingly cute.
It was only when they stopped laughing that they realized how narrow the alley was. And so the girl pushed off her wall and landed her lips firmly on top of his. Then the boy pulled the girl against him and encircled her with his arms.
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
A/N: Comments would be greatly appreciated! I’m currently not sure where I’m going with this story, although it’s leaning towards a more fluffy direction, rather than angst. Of course there will be some conflicts, but still, any ideas you’d like to suggest will be considered and appreciated.
A/N 1: Just for reference, the singing Valentine that Ginny sent to Harry In COS goes, ‘His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad/ His hair is as black as a blackboard/ I wish he was mine, he’s really divine/ the hero who conquered the Dark Lord.’
A/N: If anybody is interested in beta-ing, please e-mail me at yellowpages20@yahoo.com
I used to think everything was black and white.
Voldemort was evil, the Order was good. The Chudley Cannons would never again win the championship, but Ron would continue to root for them. Snape was a greasy git and McGonagall was the patron saint of Gryffindors. The Malfoys and the Weasleys would always hate each other.
These were the truths I relied on every day. They helped me make my decisions, whether conscious of it or not, and they justified that decision once it had been made.
But one day, the truth I had always relied on, the one truth that I could always count on as the truth, I suddenly found I couldn't.
The Malfoys would always hate the Weasleys.
Suddenly, this little truth, had become a big white, lie. And my world, before a world of sharp black and white, became a world of gray.
The Weasleys would always hate the Malfoys.
And why? Because, our ancestors had ensured that. . .
Cedric and Thomas Prewett. Cedric, ancestor of the Malfoy family (as I'm sure you will guess) and the older but sadly not the wiser of the two brothers, grew angry at the Muggles' shunning of all things magic. He sought to put an end to it in a series of bloody rampages throughout what is now Great Britain and Ireland.
Thomas was ancestor of the Weasley family and the more diplomatic of the brothers.
"Brother," Thomas urged. "You must stop these killings!"
"Why should I? They seek to destroy us, so why should we not destroy them first?" Cedric snarled.
"They seek to destroy us because they do not understand us! Violence is not the answer, we must educate them in our ways, show them that we are humans just like them!"
"They are evil," Cedric growled. "They burn, pillage, and loot our villages! They kill our kind and make us fearful enough that we must hide our powers. Our only chance at survival is to crush them first. And when we crush them may we wish them an eternity rotting in hell!"
Thomas let out an anguished cry, but rallied for a last argument. "Please, Brother! The Muggles are only ignorant. And ignorance is the root of all evil! The path you are on can lead only to perdition! And I warn you, if you stay on the path you are on now, I cannot see you again. My path will lead me a different way, into conflicting territory. Please, Brother, Cedric, do not make me leave you. Please. For our world, but also for us, please."
But Cedric ignored his brother's pleas and continued on his path.
The rift that tensions and conflicting opinions had created between the two deepened into a canyon of discord and hate, and the stories were passed down through the generations synonymously, and embellished and pulled and twisted until they told almost nothing of the truth, and only sparked the hate between the two families.
And the rip in the family fabric has existed to this day. The spite and vengeful spirit between our two families had existed for centuries before my little insignificant self came along. It had existed before me, and it existed until the day all lines were erased, and all the canyon walls tumbled down, and until barriers all over bowed down to the realm of possibility.
But we are not speaking of an epic battle, as perhaps my words have suggested. We are talking of a little luck, a little chemistry, and a boy and a girl. A girl who watched a boy, beautiful in his aloofness. A boy who watched a girl, enviable because of her love that she both gave and received so freely. This is a story of a boy and a girl, both insignificant in the scheme of things. A story, simply, of a boy who, in his showy act of rebellion against his family, saw an excuse to get to knowintimately (He was a teenage boy after all), the girl previously unattainable. And the girl, seeking excitement and romance (though not as naively as she once had) said yes. And the girl and the boy took the path less traveled.
So the boy and the girl went on a date. They chatted of forgettable things and both were careful not to mention sore subjects. Except for the one time, when the boy ordered fresh pickled toad, and upon its arrival, took a bite and declared it simply divine, and had drawn out the 'I'. So the girl laughed at this and admitted that she had it coming when she had written that absolute piece of rubbish back so long ago. With anybody else, the date would have been forgettable. Except the date was more than their interaction. It was Them
and that made all the difference.
After linner (because if there was a cross between lunch and breakfast, why not lunch and dinner, the boy protested) they walked through the back alleys of Hogsmeade on their way back to the castle. It wasn't as if they were hiding the truth, after all, most of the student population had known of their impending date. (And if the girl's brother didn't know, well then he was simply too dense for his own good, and the girl's chronic forgetfulness, which occurred whenever the chance presented itself to tell him, was none of her fault.) It was simply that they didn't want to face the stares and finger-pointing they would surely be subjected to should they appear together.
So they walked through alleys until they saw the girl's brother and a certain girl rounding the corner less than a block in front of them. Thankfully, the girl with hair like a shrubbery dropped her books and bent down to pick them up, effectively averting the brother's gaze and providing the boy and the girl with distraction enough to get away.
The boy pulled the girl down a side alley, and then turned into another so that they couldn't be seen. Then they leaned against the walls of the alley across from each other and laughed, with adrenaline and the excitement of it all. The girl thought his laugh sounded rather like a bark, and she found it quite adorable. The boy thought her laugh sounded like a two year olds’ but in a good way, and found it surprisingly cute.
It was only when they stopped laughing that they realized how narrow the alley was. And so the girl pushed off her wall and landed her lips firmly on top of his. Then the boy pulled the girl against him and encircled her with his arms.
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
A/N: Comments would be greatly appreciated! I’m currently not sure where I’m going with this story, although it’s leaning towards a more fluffy direction, rather than angst. Of course there will be some conflicts, but still, any ideas you’d like to suggest will be considered and appreciated.
To Be Continued.
Funnykido is the author of 4 other stories.
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This story is a favorite of 3 members. Members who liked A World of Gray also liked 351 other stories.
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