shocfix (![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} shocfix) wrote,@ 2005-01-15 01:00:00 |
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Steam - H/R - PG-13
Title: Steam
Rating: PG-13 for language
Author:shocfix
Summary: very quick and silly story written for the lovelyrosina_alcona, who is worried about the filming of Goblet of Fire – I’ll include her worry at the end of the story, ‘cos it’s a bit spoilerish.
****
“Uh, Harry, I think you are just looking for problems,” Hermione looked at her friend and shook her head sadly. “You know I’d do anything for you, but this is odd…”
“But Hermione, it’s driving me crazy.”
“Oh alright, I’ll take a look. But I am not coming into the boys’ showers, you’ll have to wait until it rains.”
”Hermione…”
“No, Harry, I mean it. Wait for the rain.”
****
So Harry glumly waited. Ron periodically asked what was wrong, but Harry didn’t feel up to an explanation.
Then, one Saturday afternoon, as they sat in the common room doing homework, dark clouds rolled over the castle. Hermione looked out of the window and sighed. She pushed back from the table, stretched her arms and flexed her fingers.
“Harry,” she said “didn’t you want to practise some Quidditch this afternoon?”
Harry looked up, blankly “No, not particularly.”
“You’d better go now. Before it rains.”
“What?” said Ron.
“What?” said Harry, “Oh, yes, Quidditch. What d’you say, Ron? Up to a little extra practise? Hermione, you need a break too. Come out and watch us, get a little fresh air.”
“Excellent,” said Ron, packing away his schoolbooks.
Hermione rolled her eyes, “You don’t take much persuading, do you?” she asked.
“’t’s important Hermione. It’s our last year, we so have to win the Cup this year.”
****
They went up to their dorms to change. Hermione put on a warm cloak and Harry and Ron put on their Quidditch robes. They got out their brooms and trudged down from the castle to the Quidditch pitch.
Ron glanced up at the clouds and wrinkled his nose. “How much flying are we going to get in before the rains come, mate?” he asked.
Harry snorted. “Yes, because we won’t have to fly in the rain against Slytherin will we? I hope the rain does come.”
Hermione scratched her nose and smiled behind her hand.
She sat in the stands and opened a book as the two boys took to their brooms. Glancing up periodically from Most Tiring Transformations, she admired their flying. Ron had worked so hard last year, and his keeping was so calm and competent now. He kept out almost everything Harry threw at him. Harry, as always, flew like he’d been born on a broomstick.
Sure enough, after about half an hour the clouds opened, and Hermione made a run for it to the changing rooms, but Harry and Ron flew on. Harry tested his friend, coming at him from unexpected angles, through the driving rain, and Ron swooped and circled and caught the Quaffle almost every time.
After nearly two hours the door to the changing rooms opened and the two boys came in.
Hermione looked up.
Harry was soaked. His glasses were covered in raindrops, his shaggy black hair was drenched and flattened – for once – to his head and water ran down his neck. His robes were drenched and a puddle was forming around his feet.
Then she looked at Ron.
His long red hair was damp, and starting to curl. His face was glowing from the workout. Steam rose gently from his robes.
Harry made a strangled noise in his throat. “See,” he said, “I’m not going crazy. He’s almost dry already.”
Ron looked from Harry to Hermione and back again. “What’s going on?” he asked, frowning.
Hermione tipped her head to the side and examined him more closely. His hair was two shades lighter than when he came through the door, and when she reached out and touched it, it was dry. She picked up his hand and touched the sleeve of his robes. Barely damp. He pulled his hand away, grumpily. “What?” he hissed.
“Ron,” said Hermione, “have you cast any Warming or Drying Charms?”
“No,” said Ron, irritably, “what’s the point of that before I’ve had my shower?” Then he looked down at himself and seemed to realise that he was now bone dry, while Harry still dripped quietly onto the floor.
“You know, I think I know what’s going on here,” said Hermione.
“What?” said Ron and Harry, together.
She looked at Harry. “With all the training he’s been doing, he has really filled out…”
“Uh huh.”
“…look at those broad shoulders…”
“Mmm, hmm.”
“…look at that toned stomach…”
“Yeah.”
“…look at the muscles in his arms…”
“I guess.”
“and look at the way his hair falls into his eyes, and on his shoulders.”
“Sure.”
“What the fuck are you talking about, Hermione?” interjected Ron, utterly bemused.
“Yes, but he’s also dry!” Harry complained, “What is going on?”
“It’s because he looks so good. His extreme hotness just makes the water evaporate.”
****
rosina_alcona’s theory is that either they’ll need an official shirt-wetter during the filming of the second task? ('er, Rupert, your hotness is drying you off again. Let me just hose you down there...'), or maybe they should oil him, so it looks like water but won't evaporate. Oil him by hand.
Title: Steam
Rating: PG-13 for language
Author:
shocfixSummary: very quick and silly story written for the lovely
rosina_alcona, who is worried about the filming of Goblet of Fire – I’ll include her worry at the end of the story, ‘cos it’s a bit spoilerish.****
“Uh, Harry, I think you are just looking for problems,” Hermione looked at her friend and shook her head sadly. “You know I’d do anything for you, but this is odd…”
“But Hermione, it’s driving me crazy.”
“Oh alright, I’ll take a look. But I am not coming into the boys’ showers, you’ll have to wait until it rains.”
”Hermione…”
“No, Harry, I mean it. Wait for the rain.”
****
So Harry glumly waited. Ron periodically asked what was wrong, but Harry didn’t feel up to an explanation.
Then, one Saturday afternoon, as they sat in the common room doing homework, dark clouds rolled over the castle. Hermione looked out of the window and sighed. She pushed back from the table, stretched her arms and flexed her fingers.
“Harry,” she said “didn’t you want to practise some Quidditch this afternoon?”
Harry looked up, blankly “No, not particularly.”
“You’d better go now. Before it rains.”
“What?” said Ron.
“What?” said Harry, “Oh, yes, Quidditch. What d’you say, Ron? Up to a little extra practise? Hermione, you need a break too. Come out and watch us, get a little fresh air.”
“Excellent,” said Ron, packing away his schoolbooks.
Hermione rolled her eyes, “You don’t take much persuading, do you?” she asked.
“’t’s important Hermione. It’s our last year, we so have to win the Cup this year.”
****
They went up to their dorms to change. Hermione put on a warm cloak and Harry and Ron put on their Quidditch robes. They got out their brooms and trudged down from the castle to the Quidditch pitch.
Ron glanced up at the clouds and wrinkled his nose. “How much flying are we going to get in before the rains come, mate?” he asked.
Harry snorted. “Yes, because we won’t have to fly in the rain against Slytherin will we? I hope the rain does come.”
Hermione scratched her nose and smiled behind her hand.
She sat in the stands and opened a book as the two boys took to their brooms. Glancing up periodically from Most Tiring Transformations, she admired their flying. Ron had worked so hard last year, and his keeping was so calm and competent now. He kept out almost everything Harry threw at him. Harry, as always, flew like he’d been born on a broomstick.
Sure enough, after about half an hour the clouds opened, and Hermione made a run for it to the changing rooms, but Harry and Ron flew on. Harry tested his friend, coming at him from unexpected angles, through the driving rain, and Ron swooped and circled and caught the Quaffle almost every time.
After nearly two hours the door to the changing rooms opened and the two boys came in.
Hermione looked up.
Harry was soaked. His glasses were covered in raindrops, his shaggy black hair was drenched and flattened – for once – to his head and water ran down his neck. His robes were drenched and a puddle was forming around his feet.
Then she looked at Ron.
His long red hair was damp, and starting to curl. His face was glowing from the workout. Steam rose gently from his robes.
Harry made a strangled noise in his throat. “See,” he said, “I’m not going crazy. He’s almost dry already.”
Ron looked from Harry to Hermione and back again. “What’s going on?” he asked, frowning.
Hermione tipped her head to the side and examined him more closely. His hair was two shades lighter than when he came through the door, and when she reached out and touched it, it was dry. She picked up his hand and touched the sleeve of his robes. Barely damp. He pulled his hand away, grumpily. “What?” he hissed.
“Ron,” said Hermione, “have you cast any Warming or Drying Charms?”
“No,” said Ron, irritably, “what’s the point of that before I’ve had my shower?” Then he looked down at himself and seemed to realise that he was now bone dry, while Harry still dripped quietly onto the floor.
“You know, I think I know what’s going on here,” said Hermione.
“What?” said Ron and Harry, together.
She looked at Harry. “With all the training he’s been doing, he has really filled out…”
“Uh huh.”
“…look at those broad shoulders…”
“Mmm, hmm.”
“…look at that toned stomach…”
“Yeah.”
“…look at the muscles in his arms…”
“I guess.”
“and look at the way his hair falls into his eyes, and on his shoulders.”
“Sure.”
“What the fuck are you talking about, Hermione?” interjected Ron, utterly bemused.
“Yes, but he’s also dry!” Harry complained, “What is going on?”
“It’s because he looks so good. His extreme hotness just makes the water evaporate.”
****
rosina_alcona’s theory is that either they’ll need an official shirt-wetter during the filming of the second task? ('er, Rupert, your hotness is drying you off again. Let me just hose you down there...'), or maybe they should oil him, so it looks like water but won't evaporate. Oil him by hand.