DA Fanfiction

Fic: Telling Augusta

Sat, 19 Jul 2008 23:04:22 GMT

Rating: G
Words: c. 2000
Summary: Neville's Head of House and grandmother discuss his future prospects and recent past in the early part of sixth year.

*waves* I found this comm via thanfiction's lj, and thought I'd post this fic, and I just hope you don't shoot me. It takes place in the beginning of sixth year, and while Neville does not appear in person, he is the central character, and there's mention of the D.A. and it's impact on him.

If it's not appropriate let me know! Concrit welcome, and beta offers will be accepted with shrieks of glee. Apologies if the cut doesn't work; I'm still getting to grips with it.

Title: Telling Augusta
Author: cavgirl/LisaT
Characters: Augusta Longbottom, Minerva McGonagall, Neville Longbottom.

“Augusta? May I come through?”

Augusta Longbottom looked up from the plants she was tending, and a broad smile crossed her face. “Minerva McGonagall! Of course you may. Gillywater?”

Once Minerva had settled into one of the straight backed chairs and supplied with her drink, Augusta looked at her old friend with curiosity. “Why are you here? Shouldn't you be at school?”

Minerva snorted and took a sip of her gillywater. “I'm a professor, not a prisoner.”

Augusta's eyes narrowed. “That may be so, but it's not like you to go gallivanting. Is this a social call, or are you here for some other reason?”

Minerva's rare smile crossed her face. “Did anyone ever tell you that you have a suspicious mind?”

“You have; many times.”

“Hmph. As it happens, I do have a reason for being here, but I warn you that you may not like it.”

Augusta raised her eyebrows. “I assume you're referring to that grandson of mine,” she said, casually.

The other woman set her glass to one side with a loud clack. “Yes.”

She paused and seemed to struggle to take a deep breath, much to Augusta's alarm. Either Minerva was about to give her a patented McGonagall ticking-off, or she was still feeling the effects of the Stunning incident in June. Augusta half rose. “Are you all right? Will I call - “

Minerva waved an impatient hand at her. “Sit down, Augusta, do. There's nothing wrong with me except being a little winded. Honestly, the way you all carry on, you'd think I was at death's door!”

“You very nearly were,” her friend reminded her gently. “And much as you may hate to admit it, one can't take these assaults at seventy as we did at seventeen.”

Minerva snorted again. “I don't remember you being Stunned at seventeen!”

Despite herself, Augusta grinned. “I wasn't, no. I was that rarity: a cautious Gryffindor. Unlike you, my impulsive friend!”

Much to Augusta's surprise, Minerva neither laughed nor responded to the implicit insult. Instead, she took a long sip of her gillywater, and Augusta found herself shifting a little under that unwavering, cat-like grey stare. “Well?” she prompted at last.

Minerva gave a very small complacent grin that was at once totally cattish and at the same time totally uncharacteristic. “You're too easy to discomfit, you know. Now, Neville. Augusta, you must let that boy be himself!” Minerva leaned forward and her voice held more emotion than her friend had heard from her for quite some time. “ Neville's a good boy, really he is. I'll grant you that he's neither academically brilliant nor recklessly courageous -”

Augusta grimaced. “You mean the boy should have been in Hufflepuff!”

“This is exactly what I'm talking about. You say that as if it's an insult. I agree Neville shows some Hufflepuff traits, quite apart from the rapport he has with Pomona Sprout due to their shared passion for plants. He's steady and unflinchingly loyal. Those are good things. He's no leader in the way that Harry Potter, for example, is a leader – but your grandson is no sheep-like follower either. Remember, back when he was a first year, he tried to prevent those three from going on their wild hunt for the Philosopher's Stone – and got Petrified by Miss Granger for his pains. Neville has never been a popular student. Standing up for his House against three of the few friends he did have ... well, it took more courage for him to do that than it did for me to run out after Hagrid in June. The boy's a true Gryffindor, in the best sense of the word. He doesn't deserve your constant put-downs.”

Augusta felt her cheeks turn from gentle pink to flaming red as Minerva spoke, but she could not take offence. Everything the other woman said was absolutely true. Augusta had worshipped and adored her only child, Frank, who had proved from an early age to be a very powerful wizard and ultimately an outstanding Auror. When she'd found herself responsible for Frank's son after Bellatrix Lestrange's vicious attack on Frank and his wife, she'd determined that Neville would be Frank over again. She'd forgotten to allow for the fact that Neville was not, could not be, and never would be Frank Longbottom...

Minerva's voice became unusually gentle. “Do you know that Neville regards himself as being little better than a Squib? I've heard him joke about being 'almost a Squib' to the others. In actual fact, as I've tried to tell him, there's absolutely nothing wrong with his work except lack of confidence.”

Augusta's eyes dimmed with sudden tears. “That's my fault,” she whispered. “We had such high hopes for him, for Frank's baby. And year after year passed and still there was no sign of magic ... it was such a relief when Algie dropped him out of that window and he bounced!”

The professor's eyes were unflinching. “You do realise that Muggles would consider Algie's actions to be border-line child abuse?”

She felt the hot colour drain from her face. “There isn't any child abuse in the wizarding world,” she said feebly.

“Don't fool yourself, Augusta. There is. It may not take the same forms, but every year I see them sit before me when I place the Hat on their heads.” Minerva dropped her eyes. “I've always felt secretly relieved that the most troubled children end up in either Hufflepuff or – or Slytherin.”

“Why?” Augusta asked, relieved at the chance to deflect attention from her own shortcomings.

One of Minerva's eyebrows twitched. “Troubled children often have a great desire to prove themselves, and avoiding abuse teaches cunning. Therefore they become natural candidates for Slytherin ... and I must admit that they are well served there now. Severus Snape was once an abused child himself. He knows the signs.” She sighed, and Augusta thought she saw regret flash across the other woman's face. “Neither Albus nor I recognised those signs a quarter century ago. I often wonder how things would have changed if we had done so.”

“And Hufflepuff?” her friend urged, leaving the question of Snape's past aside.

Minerva smiled a little. “Some of those troubled children have a deep need to be loved, to be cherished. They find that with Pomona, in Hufflepuff.” She looked rueful, Augusta thought. “Pomona is a maternal woman by nature. Nurturing children comes as naturally to her as nurturing plants. I .. am not a maternal woman. I would fight for my charges, I would kill for them, and I would die for them – but I cannot hold them while they cry, or offer words of comfort in their time of need. Nor would they expect me to. They are self-sufficient, my Gryffindors.”

“Brave little lions,” Augusta supplemented, with a smile.

Minerva inclined her head. “Indeed. But cubs do not become lions overnight. Neville is maturing into a young lion that you can be proud of, but he needs your help and encouragement, not constant comparisons to a father he has never known and whom he can never match. Buying him a wand of his own was a good first step, but frankly, it should have been done five years ago. Which brings me to my next point. Neville's NEWTs.”

Augusta knew her surprise was showing in her face. “His NEWTs? I thought that was settled?”

The other woman gave her a rather grim smile. “Neville will not be taking Transfiguration at NEWT level. He will be taking Charms instead.”

“Charms!” Augusta scoffed. “What use will that be? Transfiguration would be much better!”

“Just because you failed your OWL in Charms doesn't mean the subject is entirely useless,” Minerva retorted tartly. “Neville will never be more than adequate at Transfiguration, mainly because his lack of confidence gets in the way. That's not good enough at NEWT level, and to be honest with you, at this level I do not have the time to be constantly reassuring an uncertain student. Most of NEWT level Transfiguration consists of pursuing their own projects for coursework, and I don't think he could handle that requirement.”

“How do you know he'll be any better in Charms if his self-esteem is as poor as all that?” Augusta demanded, rather nettled by Minerva's reminder of her own failed OWL.

“Your grandson's self-esteem has come on in leaps and bounds over the past year with that Dumbledore's Army business,” her friend told her mildly. “I understand they did a certain amount of Charms work in that, and Neville reaped the results with an 'E', may I remind you. He tends to respond better teachers who are not overtly authoritative, which I fancy explains his cordial relationships with both Pomona and Filius Flitwick. I know he's rather intimidated by me – possibly because I remind him too much of you! - and he's absolutely terrified of Severus Snape.”

“From what I've heard of Severus Snape, that doesn't surprise me. I understand his teaching methods verge on the sadistic.”

“They do, rather,” Minerva agreed. “I've broached the subject with Albus many times, but all he ever says is that we need Severus and that Albus trusts him completely. What can I say to that? I certainly can't dispute the fact that Severus's results are invariably good – and with all his failings, at least he's never tortured the students in the way Dolores Umbridge did last year.”

Augusta saw Minerva place one hand on her heart, and Augusta guessed the other woman was remembering her own confrontations with Hogwarts' temporary and much-despised Headmistress. She leaned forward. “At least Dolores is gone now, and you and Albus are back where you should be.” She sighed. “I'm glad you think so well of Neville, Minerva. I know you're right in what you say, and he's growing up so fast now ... and dark times are coming.” She shivered. “I know he'll join the Order as soon as he's allowed do, just as his father did. I am proud of him, no matter what he – or you – may think. I just need to make sure that he knows that. If something should happen -”

Minerva rose, and when Augusta looked up into her old friend's face she saw a rare softness there. Minerva reached out a long slim hand, and Augusta took it and squeezed it. “Thanks for coming,” she murmured.

“It was my pleasure,” Minerva responded, a little gruffly. Augusta thought that she saw a hint of tears in the steady grey eyes facing hers. “Just – just tell him you're proud of him, Augusta. He needs to hear it from you. He's not a child any more, and he's seen unspeakable things. They all have, and they'll probably see more before this horrible war is done. We don't know what tomorrow may bring, and – and if he survives what's coming, he'll have to help build a new future when we old folk are put out to pasture. Let him face all that knowing you love him and are proud of him.”

Augusta gave the hand she still held another squeeze. “I will. I promise.”

Minerva gave her another of her rare full smiles. “Thank you. I had better get back to school now. Take care of yourself, my friend, and keep safe.”

“You too,” Augusta whispered, feeling suddenly drained.

Minerva nodded in her contained way and stepped into the fireplace. A moment later and she was gone in a whirl of green flames and smoke. Augusta continued to stare at the fire long after the flames had returned to Gryffindor red and gold. Her world had shifted, somehow, in the last hour, and was suddenly a bleaker place. As she moved away, her eye fell on a photo Neville had given her the previous year. It showed him receiving the Subject Prize for Herbology two years before. Augusta watched the photo-Neville move to take his prize from a beaming Pomona Sprout and then turn to smile proudly at the camera over and over...

She crossed to her writing table with firm, decisive movements. She had a very important letter to write.

-end.

Fic: Into the Dark

Mon, 14 Jul 2008 13:50:10 GMT

Title: Into the Dark
Rating: PG
Words: 1800
Summary: Woke up this morning, I suddenly realized, We're all in this together Four Houses, four stories, one war.
Notes: Lyrics meme: put your preferred music player on shuffle, write drabbles for the first song(s). This one: All In This Together, Ben Lee, (lyrics) Unbeta-ed, very rough, etc.

( Every twelve seconds, someone remembers that we're all in this together. )

NEW FIC and ART! "Spoils of War" Neville/Hannah NC-17

Sun, 29 Jun 2008 17:37:46 GMT

“Spoils of War”
by Thanfiction

Neville/Hannah

NC-17, het
Art in mechanical charcoal pencil on paper

Summary: Passions run high in the aftermath of battle.
Part of the Dumbledore's Army universe.

OOO

The Slytherin common room, by virture of its hidden location in the very depths of the castle, had been spared the destruction that the battle had wrought upon the rest of Hogwarts, but it was hard to tell. Chairs had been upended, their cushions slashed, their carved frames stomped and broken. The empty portraits had been cut to ribbons, the banners and hangings torn from the walls, and the fireplace blazed with green cloth that was rapidly charring black and spitting sparks onto the rug, setting a dozen tiny, smoldering fires.

Neville did not even hear the door open as he sunk the Sword deep into the comfortable green upholstery of the couch. “Did you do all this?”

He startled, whirling quickly with the blade raised instantly to strike before he even recognized the voice. “Hannah!” For a moment, his heart caught with how very close he had come to attacking her, but she didn’t seem frightened, and he nodded as he turned back to return his attentions to the demolition of the couch. “Every…goddamned…bit of it….” Neville growled between stabs and hacks.

Her voice was not exactly reproachful, rather almost curious as she kept safely back from the reach of the Sword, bending down to pick up the severed head of a silver serpent that had once acted as a lamp hook. “Don’t you think there’s been enough destruction for one day?”

“They didn’t fight!” He set the Sword on the stone floor with incongruous care, then dug his hands into the slashes it had left and tore them apart, scattering stuffing into the air in thick handfuls. “Those bastards let us die for their freedoms too, and they didn’t shed one drop of their own cowardly, slinking, sniveling blood! Gryffindor’s blown to pieces, Ravenclaw’s a pile of rubble, your House caught fire when they blasted the kitchens…I’m not letting them get away with it!”

There was a long pause where all he could hear was the sound of his own hoarse breathing and the rasping of tearing cloth, then she spoke again, and there was a hard edge to her words. “Have you gotten the dorms yet?”

Neville looked up, and there was a smile on his mouth that never touched the anger blazing in his eyes, but he knew that she could see how much he was in love with her in that smile. “No.”

“I think you’ve done enough to the common room, mind if I help?” Hannah pushed up her still-bloody sleeves and drew her wand. “I want to start with the seventh-years…Malfoy and Crabbe and Goyle’s room.”

He nodded, then paused as his eyes scanned over the tall, arched doors with their heavy iron bands and open-mouthed fanged knockers. “I don’t know –“

She interrupted him by aiming her wand at the nearest door. There was a flash, a bang, and it blew apart in a cloud of sparks and splinters that made him have to turn away, shielding his face. When he looked back, she was peering calmly through the opening, shaking her head matter-of-factly. “Nope.”

They blew off four more doors before they found it, the dormitory instantly recognizable by the expensive dragon-leather trunk resting at the foot of the center bed, an ornate silver “M” emblazoned beautifully over the lid. Between the two of them, they made short work of the room. The trunk was the first to go, engulfed with a Confringo curse that reduced the lavish trunk and its contents to ashes and twisted iron bands, and then they turned to the others, followed by the beds themselves, the nightstands, even the half-finished homework that lay on a table that was no more than matchsticks within minutes.

Neville wiped the back of his wrist across his forehead, grinning. “Do you think we should leave a calling card, or do you think they’ll be able to figure it out?”

But Hannah wasn’t looking at the remains of the dormitory, she was looking at him, and her green eyes were burning as darkly as the smoking trunks. “I think there’s something wrong with me.”

He tilted his head, frowning in sudden worry. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

“No…” she stepped forward, slipping her wand back into her belt as she raised her arms to wrap them around his neck. Her tongue flicked out over her lips, and her eyes locked with his. “I want to kiss you.”

Neville pulled in a deep breath, surprised but also suddenly very, very aware of how warm the skin of her bare forearms was on the back of his neck, of how her body pressed against his, of every breath that swelled her breasts soft and firm into his chest. His own pulse was still speeding from the exertion of their rampage, but now there was more to it as well, and he swallowed hard, forcing his hands to take her wrists and push her away. “Hannah, we can’t.”

“If you mean that you’re bloody and sweaty and covered in dust and Merlin knows, I don’t give a damn,” she said fiercely, twisting her wrists away. She pushed in close again, pressing herself to him deliberately and wrapping her arms around his waist under the shredded shirt. “You’re alive, and maybe it’s messed up, but you’re….” The words trailed off into a moan as she ran her tongue along the exposed line of his upper arm where the sleeve had been stripped away, and it took all his willpower to shove her off of him again.

He held out his hands, seeing that they were shaking with the effort of controlling everything that was mounting now, and his voice came so low and feral that he almost didn’t recognize it. “You don’t understand. I’m not okay right now, Hannah. I’m…I’ve been fighting all night. I’ve seen a lot of people I love die. I’m angry – no, I’m furious – and I’ve been running on all my lowest, nastiest instincts for hours. If you try that again, I’m going to wind up fucking you right there on what’s left of Malfoy’s bed.”

She gasped, and he knew that she was shocked to hear him use a word he never had in her presence before, but there seemed to be something else to it as well, something that raised a flush high on her cheeks and made her eyes fall lazily half-closed as her lips parted. She looked…but she couldn’t be. Not when he was filthy and enraged and they’d just spent the last half hour breaking things.

Yet his own body was responding just as impossibly, just as nonsensically. It seemed to realize for the first time since it had all ended that they had survived, and that for them, unlike oh, so many others, it was not too late. He wanted to grab her, wanted to feel her, taste her, take her right there, do something every bit as primal as fighting for your survival but something that was good and life rather than evil and death. His face felt flushed, and he turned away, forcing himself not to look at her as he squeezed his eyes shut, balling his hands tightly into fists at his sides as he hissed out one final warning. “Get. Out. Of. Here.”

Hannah did not leave. Instead, he felt her hands on his back, sliding under the shirt, slipping around to his stomach, tracing the lines of the muscles with her palms down to the waistband of his trousers, then starting to ease beneath….

It was too much. He had warned her. Neville snapped.

Whirling on the spot, he grabbed her hard by the shoulders, crushing his mouth to hers in a fierce, deep kiss, tongue thrusting deep into her mouth, hands raising now to fist in the dusty golden curls as he yanked her to him. Then he had broken the kiss, and he bent just enough to scoop his arms under her and lift her off her feet. They crossed the debris-strewn room in three strides, and then he threw her down onto the slashed mattress in a cloud of feathers, the strips of the bed-hangings fluttering around her as she lay sprawled, panting hard and grinning up at him.

Her hands went to her collar, but he was faster, taking the scorched fabric in both hands and yanking it open with a scatter of burst buttons. It took every ounce of remaining sanity, but he paused just long enough to see her nod, see that she hadn’t changed her mind, and then their bodies crashed together in writhing limbs and seeking hands and tearing cloth hungering for naked flesh.

Twice they had been intimate before, once in his Grandfather’s old hothouse and once on the Astronomy tower, but those had been gentle, tentative, careful and almost innocent despite the carnality of the deed itself. Not this time. This time it was passion, in every sense of the word, emotions raised to every extreme of rage and fear and anguish and joy and lust that had poured over them that night in the blood of friends and enemies, expressed in gasps and sweat and screams and no trace of inhibition.

Hannah’s nails dug deep into his shoulders as he pulled off the panties that were the last scrap of cloth she had still worn, arching herself up against his mouth as his lips pulled hard on her nipples, nipping and sucking them fiercely as his tongue rubbed the taut, puckered nubs. She was writhing, groaning, hissing like a cat, and the sounds seemed to strike his blood like firewhisky. He braced his hands against what was left of the mattress on either side of her, running his mouth down the plane of her stomach, then burying his face between her thighs.

She screamed as his tongue found her clit, her legs slamming hard into the sides of his head, and he shifted back onto his heels, grabbing her ass and lifting her tighter into his mouth. He had never tasted, never smelled anything more intoxicating, and he wanted to drink her in, sucking at the wet folds and pushing his tongue as deep as it would go, the scruff of two days unshaven rough against the satin-smooth wetness of her inner thighs. Her hips were pulsing, he could feel her cunt trembling against his mouth, and despite how good – how fucking incredible this was – his body was demanding more too fiercely to ignore, and she was begging, she was pleading, and if he could have resisted himself, the sound of her voice saying those things was more than he could ever hold out against.

He pulled her legs from around his shoulders, shoving her down on the bed again, and now he was on top of her, over her…oh, god…INSIDE her. It had never been like this before. So hot, so wet, so tight, so desperate, nothing held back, not worrying, not trying to do anything but just let their bodies and their needs and their instincts run completely away with them. He bit his lip, his breath coming in hard, gutteral rasps as he thrust into her again and again, so hard that it had to be hurting her, had to be tearing her apart, but she was whimpering in pleasure, not pain, her legs tightening on his hips, her own body pushing up to meet his just as quickly, just as savagely.

For what could have been seconds or minutes or hours or days he drove into her, any rhythm quickly abandoned into a frenzy of hardandfastandinandoutandohyesohjustlikethat. Then she was clenching around him, her cries rising to a high, trembling little scream, and the scars on his shoulders split under her nails and she had curled all the way off the bed to cling against him and every muscle was tightening, his own scream a distant sound under the roaring pulse and the shattering insanity.

He came harder than he had ever thought possible, every nerve firing hotly, every sense an inferno of pleasure, and this was everything and nothing like the Cruciatus Curse, pleasure raised to a height as maddening, as impossible as the pain had been. It swept over him in deep, pounding waves, driving him under and drowning his senses in ecstacy, then it began to fade at last, leaving him breathless and shuddering, collapsed over her in a tangle of salt and wet and hot and shaking.

They lay together for a long time, hands wandering rather aimlessly over one another’s bodies, pushing clinging hair from faces, murmuring things that they understood neither saying nor hearing, but didn’t need to. Then her breathing had slowed, her fingers trailed to a halt over his chest, and he realized that she had fallen asleep, and it really seemed like an astonishingly good idea as his body abruptly informed him that it had been almost thirty-six hours.

For the briefest of moments, he considered trying to seal the shattered door, to pull pieces of clothing or bed hangings over them again, but it just wasn’t worth the effort. He didn’t really care if they were found. If they were old enough to die, then damned if they weren’t old enough to live.

THE END

NEW FIC! Rank and File, Part 2

Fri, 20 Jun 2008 14:26:08 GMT

Title: Rank and File
By Thanfiction
Part 2 of 72
Rated PG
Gen
Summary: Who are Dumbledore's Army?
Warning! Contains spoilers for "Dumbledore's Army and the Year of Darkness"

ACKERLEY, STEWART EDWARD
RAVENCLAW
B. February 19, 1981
D. May 2, 1998

OOO

He had been shocked when he was sorted into Ravenclaw.

Really, he had expected Gryffindor, and not because he considered himself any kind of a hero. But he had never been particularly academic, in fact, his marks in primary school had bordered on awful. The reason he had thought he would be Gryffindor was because he loved the spotlight so much, because the best thing in the world was being on stage, having a crowd in the palm of your hand, being able to make people dance and cry and scream and clap along with your music. He planned on being a rock star, like his father, the lead guitarist and vocalist for Burnt Potions, and he knew he was well on his way.

The whole Ackerley family was musical. His grandmother had been a concert violinist, his mother, a backup singer at Sonorus Records, and that didn’t seem like much, maybe, but you could hear her voice on half the number-one hits on the WWN, and she had refused a dozen times to go solo when she could work with every great musical group in the wizarding world with what she already did. Stewart himself had shown his first sign of magic at age three, summoning his father’s guitar off a high shelf where it had been put – they had hoped – out of the toddler’s reach. This had resulted in a trip to St. Mungo’s and a thin white scar that he still carried by his hairline, but it had also not really come as a surprise to anyone.

By four, he had one of his own that his father had reduced to be the right size, and by eight he could play not only that, but bass, drums, piano, and he was making headway on the violin as well. He supposed, really, that was what had lead to Ravenclaw. Books weren’t his thing, but he could listen to any song and put it into sheet music within the hour, and his thoughts came in frets and half-measures, meter and chords , minor keys and quarter-rests. Maybe he barely scraped by most of his classes, but he could make Terry’s head spin with technical music information in less than five minutes.

He was in his sixth year now, but he had a lot of free time considering that he’d only managed to make N.E.W.T by the edge of his robes in three classes: Divination, Astronomy, and History of Magic, and the latter only because he had coped with the mind-numbing course by putting the information into lyrics.

The Goblin Rebellion came in thirteen forty-eight
When Gradnack decided their rights couldn’t wait…

His first album had been almost completely written, but of course, he’d scrapped it now. Maybe it wasn’t the most noble motivation for joining a revolution, but Stewart had jumped at the chance to be part of the D.A., because he knew there would be so much material there. Any movement always inspired music, was driven in part by music, and the records would be flying off the shelves in Diagon Alley if Dark Lord’s Downfall had actually been written and performed by someone who’d been on the front lines.

Stewart already looked like a musician well enough, he knew. He wasn’t a stunning young man, but he had lean, rangy good looks, tall and wiry with a smile that could snap your wand when he turned it on full-force. He’d grown his hair long, halfway down his back, and he didn’t think it was really cheating – he was naturally kind of a dishwater blonde – to lighten it a few shades to a proper honey gold. It went better with the blue-gray eyes, and it suited a rock star more. When he wasn’t in his uniform, he favored band shirts with the sleeves torn off and jeans that were clinging to life by their last few threads, and he had come to kind of like the triple-takes people gave him when they heard what House he was in.

His music had suffered a little more than he had expected with the training schedule the D.A. demanded, but he had still found time to jot notations and ideas for songs, and the Muffliato spell Ginny had taught them was incredibly useful when it came to practicing after curfew. He didn’t need light, after all – he could play anything in the dark – and with the sound deadened to any ears but his own, he had taken to staying up until two, even three in the morning every night, working on the album.

It had worried him a little that the others might not think he was taking it seriously. Not the music, but the D.A. because of the music. That they might even kick him out or something if they knew he was in it primarily for inspiration, so he hadn’t shared any of it at first. Oh, he certainly wanted You-Know-Who defeated, and he loathed Snape and the Carrows as much as anyone, and he was fully willing to fight as hard as the rest of them. People just got funny about things sometimes. Jennifer Lindsey still hadn’t spoken to him since they broke up, and that was just because he’d used the month where things were falling apart between them to write three songs about it. It wasn’t like he’d used her name or anything.

Stewart had been heartsick to have to leave his guitar and his notebook behind when he fled the Carrows after they’d gotten Nott to pick a fight with him outside Divination, and he’d hated himself for rising to the Slytherin’s taunts. After all, his very existence was pretty conclusive evidence against what the other boy had said about his father, and rock music was a strong exception to the usual rule about wizards and eyeliner. Still, there were some things a guy couldn’t just let pass. But the thought of those horrible people getting their stubby, nasty hands on his instrument made him sick.

Yet to his surprise, the month spent in the Room of Requirement had been one of the best in his life, almost as good as the previous summer when his father had taken him on tour and let him do bass for three shows when their regular bassist sprained his finger. Nothing could top that, of course, not until he had his own tour, but an entire month with a willing audience, all the time you wanted to practice, and a Xavier Burton Troubador Signature Series…hell, if Neville had mentioned that at the first meeting, he’d have beat Ginny to the front of the room. It literally brought tears to his eyes to know that he’d never be able to take it out of there. Maybe, just maybe, if he were able to get the room to understand that he NEEDED that guitar….

Dying had never really occurred to him. It was odd, because he certainly had written about it enough. Watching the others prepare for it was such a font of emotions and reactions, everything from amazing nobility and bravery to the ones who smiled tightly and then wept into their pillows with fear after they thought everyone else was asleep. There were even some great love stories going on, and he wanted to practically kiss Colin Creevey for being such a perfect Coming-of-Age tale. But although he could spin off a dozen different things that rhymed with death, the thought of it applying to him had just not happened.

Even in the battle itself, he hadn’t considered his own mortality. There was little difference in the shape of a drumstick or a wand in your hand, and he had always been able to throw spells with a speed and precision that boggled those who had never tried to follow the drum line on a Six Times Splinched album. He’d held his own right there alongside Shacklebolt, but a jinx had gotten him in the knee while he was dueling four of the bastards.

The pain had been like nothing he had ever imagined a human being could endure. He had screamed, vomited, but they’d almost gotten him, and it was just as impossible that such pain could stop mattering entirely, but Neville had been right. Adrenaline was an amazing substance. Stewart had actually managed to stand on the ruined joint again, to keep fighting, to even make it almost all the way back to the castle in slow, limping paces, but then it had given out for good, and he wasn’t at all angry or bitter that Shacklebolt and Parvati had no choice but to close ranks and leave him behind.

In the end, though, the Sorting Hat had been right, and maybe it wasn’t just his affinity for the technical side of music or how quickly he could write complex chord structures. After all, a Gryffindor, even wounded and unable to stand, even with his wand cracked when he had gone down, probably would have fought the werewolf that had come running at the fallen boy, howling and grinning and licking those awful, sharp teeth. But Stewart wasn’t a Gryffindor, and he shoved the wand back in his mouth as far as it would go, and he didn’t even realize that his last thought was also the name of a band.

Reducto!

THE END

NEW FIC: Rank and File, part 1

Fri, 20 Jun 2008 14:23:13 GMT

I said in “Dumbledore’s Army and the Year of Darkness” that none of the D.A. members were just numbers to Neville. This is also true for me. In my head and in my notes, every single one of them was a person, a developed character. After the book was completed, I felt like there just hadn’t been space – even in such a long novel – for people to really get to know more than a handful of the kids who lived and fought and died so bravely that year. So what will be following over the next two months or so is a series of short vignettes, little more than snapshots really. One for each non-senior-officer member of the D.A.

Title: Rank and File
By Thanfiction
Part 1 of 72
Rated PG
Gen
Summary: Who are Dumbledore's Army?
Warning! Contains spoilers for "Dumbledore's Army and the Year of Darkness"

OOO

ABERCROMBIE, EUAN ROY
GRYFFINDOR
B. May 19 1983
D. May 2, 1998

OOO

Harry Potter had been the Triwizard Champion the very first year he was at Hogwarts.

He tried not to be like Dennis, fawning all over him and taking pictures and talking about him like some silly witch with a crush, but secretly, Harry was just about the most amazing thing he had ever imagined. It wasn’t all the Boy Who Lived stuff, either. You-Know-Who’s reign had been over years before he was born, and the adults never really talked about it, so to him, honestly, the lightning-shaped scar was just that. A lightning-shaped scar. Looked pretty neat, though. Kind of undid how stupid it was that he wore glasses.

There had been all kinds of argument that Harry had cheated, that he didn’t belong in the Tournament to begin with, that he’d gotten his name into the Goblet of Fire by bribing an older student, but none of that really mattered to Euan. When it had first started going around, he was way too busy just trying to adjust to going to a wizarding school in the first place to care at all, but then the First Task had come, and it became a moot point completely, because that…well, that had just been bad-ass.

Out-flying a Hungarian Horntail? When Viktor Krum hadn’t even dared try that? Oh, come on. How could a kid not be impressed?

He already had the slot saved for Harry’s card. Euan had been collecting chocolate frog cards since he was barely five years old, and he was one of only two people he’d met in his whole life who had the entire set. Not only did he have them all, but they were still in perfect condition, magically sealed into neat little sleeves in a binder he kept locked in his trunk under every protective spell he knew. His dad had helped at first, but every time he learned a new one, he added it. Just in case. Six year-old brothers had sticky stuff on their hands way too often to take chances. But right there, between Pombridge and Postwhimple, there was a blank space. Potter. He just knew it. Probably even before he was twenty, at the rate he was going, and wouldn’t that be incredible? Youngest chocolate frog card wizard ever?

Privately, he thought that would be a lot more amazing than youngest Seeker in a hundred years or youngest Triwizard Champion. Frog cards lasted, after all. His dad still had a bunch from when he was a kid. And a lot more people saw them, too.

He was a lot more open about his admiration of Harry at home, where he knew he wouldn’t get compared to the Creeveys, so it had been a nasty shock when his father took him aside a week before he started his second year. “Euan,” he had explained gently, “there’s something you need to understand about the Potter boy…he’s been famous ever since he was a baby, and last year, with the Tournament, he got to be really famous. And a lot of people like that. There are bad things and good things about being in the spotlight, but it’s exciting, and it makes you feel important, and Potter…well, I think he’s afraid people won’t pay as much attention to him now that the Triwizard’s over, so he’s started telling a lot of lies to make sure they keep paying attention. I want you to understand that he’s still a kid, even though he’s older than you, so he might not realize how very serious it is what he’s doing, but I don’t want you getting caught up in or scared by anything he says. It’s still wrong.”

But his dad had been the one who was wrong. His dad and everyone else who thought Harry was lying, because it was all true. You-Know-Who had come back. Cedric Diggory hadn’t been killed in an accident, and now even his dad was searching the Prophet every day, looking for news of Harry, hoping he was still alive, calling him The Chosen One.

Everyone, even Neville, thought Harry was their only real hope now that things had gotten so bad, and Euan never would have admitted to anyone in the world that he thought any different. But he did. Well, not thought, really. More like dreamed. In those dreams, it was the D.A. that wound up winning it for real. They’d take down all the Death Eaters, leave You-Know-Who alone and make him run again, and Harry would thank them personally when he got his frog card. He’d say he could never have done it without them, that they’d all been so brave, so tough, and he’d maybe even pick out a couple of the most courageous by name. Euan wanted to be one of those.

He was fourteen now, the same age Harry had been in the Triwizard, and maybe he couldn’t out-fly a Hungarian Horntail, but he’d worked hard. Oh, he’d worked hard, and he privately thought he was probably the best in his year now. The last time the D.A. had all drilled together, he’d been one of the Death Eaters, and he still grinned when he remembered that he and Sloper had pinned Ernie Macmillan in the Charms classroom. He himself had nailed the older wizard right in the face with a really good jinx…and Ernie was a seventh-year, and an officer on top of it! One of Neville’s top men! Not to mention about four times his size.

That was something else where he felt like Harry had paved the way, beyond just the idea of being fourteen and a hero. If a scrawny boy with glasses and hair that always looked like he’d slept on it in a bad windstorm could be amazing, then there was no reason he couldn’t. He was kind of scrawny himself, and although his hair didn’t stick up, it didn’t…well, anything, really. It just sat on his head, kind of limp and kind of brown and kind of straight and not at all heroic. Even his Granny simply called him a “sweet-looking boy,” and if it weren’t for Harry, he wouldn’t think that you could be a hero if you didn’t look the part at least a little.

It was really easy to consider the officers as heroes. Ginny and Luna were so beautiful that he couldn’t even look at them without his head coming apart and all kinds of increasingly bizarre and distracting reactions from his body. Ernie was a Hufflepuff, and that was kind of lame, but he had a body that every boy in the D.A. envied desperately, and he’d seen him actually bend back the iron bars on a broken window during an exercise once. Neville he’d never really even noticed while Harry was there, but he was tall and strong and confident, half the witches had crushes on him, and rumor had it that he was so tough that he’d been the only one left standing at the Ministry with Harry, and that he’d actually taken down a Death Eater wandless and left him permanently blinded.

They would all be so surprised. He could close his eyes and see it, and it helped a lot when he was tired or sore or scared or bordering on hopeless from how much hell Snape and the Carrows were always getting away with. Ginny – or maybe Luna, or maybe even Lavender – would be pinned down by three…no, six of You-Know-Who’s most elite Death Eaters. Neville and Ernie would be fighting somewhere else, they would have no hope of rescue, and then he would be there, and they would be so grateful…but nevermind. It just got silly after that.

Still, he’d be a hero, that much he was sure of. That wasn’t a fantasy. If Harry could do it at fourteen and nothing-special-looking, so could he.

It almost worked out that way, too. He’d pulled back into the castle with McGonagall, and there were Death Eaters everywhere, and he was holding his own. Euan could scarcely believe that he wasn’t even afraid, but there wasn’t any chance to be. It was too mad, too thrilling, too incredible to actually be terrifying, because you could only really be afraid of something that your mind could wrap itself around as happening, and this was so much more surreal than that.

Things even looked dream-like, with the dust so thick everywhere and the flashes and bangs and people appearing and disappearing out of the heavy mist of destruction. Then he had heard a witch scream, and it was Lavender, and he hadn’t even hesitated.

Part of the balcony had fallen at some point, and she had been backed over the edge while dueling. She hung now, dangling by her fingers, her legs kicking uselessly at thin air, and the Death Eater was leaning over her, ready to stomp her hands or hex her or – Euan charged forward, roaring a challenge as his wand swept down fiercely. His curse struck directly in the middle of the black-robed back, and the enemy stiffened, toppled to one side.

Lavender was trying to pull herself up, but she kept slipping, and he dropped to his knees, reaching out to grab her by both arms. She was heavier than he had imagined – it always seemed like the older boys could pick up witches like they didn’t weigh anything, but she had to weigh at least a hundred and ten, a hundred and fifteen pounds, and that was almost as much as he did. He was sliding forward, but he braced himself, leaned over, hauled back…and there was an awful, sudden cracking noise.

Euan had only a split-second of understanding what had just happened, and then the rest of the balcony gave, and he was flung head-first into nothingness. He would never know that when the chocolate frog card came out for the D.A., his name was near the very top. He would never know that Neville had asked for them to be listed in alphabetical order.

His father cried for a week.

Pimping the last two months of my life

Mon, 16 Jun 2008 14:38:05 GMT

I mentioned this here before, but that was when it was being posted as the "Dumbledore's Army: Still Recruiting" series and was a work in progress. I know a lot of people don't like to read WIPs, but this is no longer one of those, and so I'm going on a balls-out internet book tour to promote "Dumbledore's Army and the Year of Darkness." This is a COMPLETE, novel-length (a few words longer than OOTP) story following Neville and the D.A. through the entire year at Hogwarts while Harry and co. were out hunting Horcruxes. I have heard nothing but good things from people who have read it, and I think that if you are willing to stick out the length, you'll find it an enjoyable ride. Details below:

Title: "Dumbledore's Army and the Year of Darkness" (originally posted in 67 pieces as the "Dumbledore's Army: Still Recruiting" series
Author: Thanfiction
Genre: Action-Adventure/Drama/Gen (Canon-Compliant)
Length: 25 chapters, 256,430 words
Pairings: Neville/Parvati, Neville/Hannah, Ernie/Susan, asst. others (no slash)
Characters: Neville POV, includes most of the HP universe at one point or another, but heavy focus on the members of Dumbledore's Army, particularly Seamus Finnigan, Ernie Macmillan, Ginny Weasley, Luna Lovegood, Michael Corner, Terry Boot, Colin Creevey, the Patil twins, and Hannah Abbot
Rating: M or R, depending on what system you're using
Warnings: Character death, Graphic Violence, Spoilers for DH
Link: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/4315906/1/Dumbledores_Army_and_the_Year_of_Darkness
Chapter and cover art located at http://thanfiction.deviantart.com

Fic: On Three (Michael/Lavender)

Mon, 09 Jun 2008 13:15:36 GMT

Title: On Three.
Rating: PG13
Pairing: Michael Corner/Lavender Brown
Summary: Michael and Lavender are on the run, making their way to hide out in the Room of Requirement, but there's something Lavender needs first...
Notes: For rarepair_shorts, prompt: I can't leave it all behind
Link: Challenge Table

( We have to find cover, Lavender, or we're dead. )

You wanted DA fanfiction....

Tue, 03 Jun 2008 15:12:42 GMT

I fear I may have more than you bargained for in the offering.

Title: The Dumbledore's Army: Still Recruiting Series. 50 out of 68 as of 6/3/08, increasing at the steady rate of 1 per day. See my bio at the link for more information. The entire series is found here and MUST be read in order and without skipping things, or it will make less sense than a Babbling Beverage. http://fanfiction.net/~thanfiction

Rating: Like the books, probably deserves an R for violence. There is some sexuality, but all off-screen.

Summary: The entire missing seventh year at Hogwarts. Beyond this, I am going to have to seriously try and find a way to condense violent stairwells, werewolves, elopement, undercover missions, Dragon Pox, torture, love, death, coming of age, and plot twists into something brief and catchy.

Characters/Ship: There is Neville/Hannah, Neville/Parvati, and Ernie/Susan, but if you're coming for a Ship fic, you're coming to the wrong place. The relationships are subplots to the story, which is Dumbledore's Army.

Notes/Warnings: Violence, disturbing themes/images, mild language, mild sexuality, and serious, serious, profound, massive spoilers for Deathly Hallows.

Words: 210,000 +

FIC: Just Her

Tue, 19 Feb 2008 18:38:25 GMT

Title: Just Her (1/1)
Author: silvernatasha
Rating: Teen
Summary: Padma is concerned about Parvati's distraction.
Characters/Ship: Implied Parvati/Lavender, implied Seamus/Lavender.
Word Count: 500.

( It isn’t easy to slip onto a hammock next to someone. )

FIC: "You, Tomorrow, Next Year"

Mon, 18 Feb 2008 08:29:32 GMT

(Hello! I am new, and I <3 the DA.)

Title: You, Tomorrow, Next Year
Author: Sirikit/sirikit
Rating: PG/K+
Summary: It's not as if they're friends, but it's not as if they're not. Susan Bones and Zacharias Smith, friendship, gen.
Wordcount: 2,300ish

( You, Tomorrow, Next Year )

FIC: Hope

Mon, 28 Jan 2008 00:02:07 GMT

title: Hope
author: me
rating: PG
length: 1330
pairing(s): none; canon
summary: The reformation of the DA; Ginny's POV
warning(s): none, really

Hope

She entered the train. Alone. There were no brothers, no Harry, no Ron, no Hermione. She was dreading this year, no, it wasn’t dread; it was something more like terror. She was terrified of what Hogwarts would be like this year; with Snape, with the Carrows, and without Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Dumbledore.

She hurried down the train, looking neither left nor right, but keeping her eyes out for those two people; the only two whose faces could possibly make things even a little better, a little less terrifying, and a little less lonely.

She finally saw one of them, him. She was quite surprised by relief she felt upon the sight of his face.

“Neville,” she breathed gratefully, the amount of relief in her voice seemed to startle him.

He smiled, looking quite pleased to see her. He leaned forward and scanned the area directly behind her with a wistful sort of hope.

“Not even Ron?” he asked

“Of course not. Do you honestly think he’d even consider coming back here when Harry and Hermione are out there doing god knows what with the Ministry after them?” she said with an amount of bitterness in her voice that seemed to surprise Neville.

Well, she was bitter. They always did this to her. Always. No matter how much they liked her, accepted her, loved her even, she was always on the sidelines. She was never privy to their plans, their suspicions, their battles. She would always be “Ron’s little sister” to them. No matter how many battles they let her take part in, and no matter how close they were to her, she would always be the fourth wheel.

“No, I reckon not,” said Neville quietly, choosing not to comment on her tone of voice.

She sat down across from him slightly awkwardly; neither of them quite knowing what to say.

It came as a relief when the compartment door swung open and a familiar pair of radish earrings came dangling into sight.

“Oh good, you’re here,” she said happily, as if their school hadn’t been overrun by Death Eaters.

“Of course we are.”

“So what are we doing this year?”

“What do you mean?” the other two asked.

“Well, Death Eaters will be teaching this year, and Professor Snape is in charge.”

“What can we do? They’ll kill, or torture us if we try to pull anything off on them,” was the glum response.

Luna looked mildly disapproving.

“Harry would do something.”

“Well, perhaps you haven’t noticed, but Harry isn’t here,” snapped Ginny.

Luna didn’t seem to be overly concerned by Ginny’s hostility; she merely smiled and fished through her trunk for the latest edition of The Quibbler. Neville, who was deep in thought, didn’t even seem to notice the exchange.

“Maybe Luna has a point,” Neville mused, “if they were here they certainly wouldn’t sit around on their backsides and do nothing.”

“I’m not saying that we shouldn’t to anything Neville, I’m just—oh I don’t know what I mean,” Ginny said as she buried her head in her hands with an intense sort of frustration.

Luna said nothing, but merely put a comforting arm around Ginny and returned to her Quibbler.

Ginny shot her a grateful smile.

They sat in silence after that, each lost in their own thoughts. The idea of rebellion seemed like a good one to all of them, but it frightened them terribly at the same time. Two years ago they had rebelled, but that time it had been against Umbridge, and the Ministry. No one’s life had been at stake, no one’s family was at risk, and most importantly, the three of them had not been at the forefront.

If they did choose to rebel, and carry on whatever it was that Harry, and Ron, and Hermione had started, they would be going directly against Voldemort, and they would be the ones at the forefront.

The silence stretched on, as they own sat immersed in their own thoughts. After about an hour of this—by this time Ginny was dozing off on Luna’s shoulder, Luna was buried in her copy of The Quibbler, and Neville was staring thoughtfully out of the window—the compartment door opened once more, and a loud, familiar voice greeted them, jolting them out of their respective reveries.

The three of them swiveled their heads around to the compartment door, and were surprised to see Michael Corner’s face grinning out at them.

“Brilliant, you’re here. We were hoping you would be.”

“ ‘We?’ ”

Michael grinned again, but instead of answering he turned around and gestured to someone standing behind him.

Michael entered the compartment with none other than Hannah Abbott, Lavender Brown, Susan Bones, Terry Boot, Seamus Finnigan, Anthony Goldstein, Ernie Macmillan, Parvati Patil, and Padma Patil behind him. Once the lot of them had managed to cram themselves into the small compartment (Padma was practically in Anthony’s lap, not that he minded), they all looked around rather sadly.

“So none of them came back, eh?” asked Anthony wistfully.

“Were you expecting them too?” Ginny replied with her eyebrows raised.

“Nah, I was just hoping.”

“What are they doing?” asked Hannah, in a voice heavy with worry and concern.

Ginny gave a hollow laugh.

“Damned if I know. They never tell me anything. All I know is that it’s exceedingly dangerous and I haven’t seen them in over a month.”

There was an awkward pause; none of them knew how to reply to that.

“So,” said Lavender loudly, obviously hoping to bring an end to the awkward silence, “what are we going to do?”

“Yeah, we’re not going to take all this lying down, are we?” asked Seamus.

Neville considered the lot of them.

“You want to take them on?”

“Of course I do, we all do,” said Seamus, sounding shocked that Neville would have to ask.

“Why wouldn’t we, Neville? We joined that DA to learn how to fight Voldemort and his Death Eaters. It wasn’t a game to us then, and it most certainly isn’t now. You didn’t think that we’d all just sit back, forget everything Harry taught us, and let them take over our school. Did you?” Susan exclaimed angrily.

“No, of course I didn’t, I just—”

“—You just didn’t think that any of us would be willing to stick our heads out now that it’s serious,” finished Parvati with a slight smile.

Neville, Ginny, and Luna all looked rather ashamed of themselves.

“Eh, we won’t hold it against you,” said Terry good-naturedly. “Going back to what Susan said, though; with Harry and them out there doing what is probably more than their share of the fighting in this war, don’t you think we owe it to them to finish what they started?-They’re not alone in this fight, and they shouldn’t have to be.”

Luna, Neville, and Ginny took in what Terry said for a moment, and then Ginny and Luna looked over at Neville, who seemed to have come to a decision. He bent over, opened his trunk, and groped about for a moment. He finally emerged with something large and shiny in his fist. He held it up to all of them with a slight grin.

“Do you lot have your DA coins with you?”

“One step ahead of you, mate,” said Seamus gleefully as they all extricated their coins from their pockets.

“Well then,” said Ginny, obviously encouraged by this development “let’s get started.”

There was a bit of a scuffle as everyone attempted to squeeze into a seat. Once they were all seated (Padma was now completely in Anthony’s lap, whether or not it was intentional, none of them could tell), Ginny looked around at the compartment filled with the familiar, eager faces of her classmates; all of them ready and willing to continue what had begun two years ago.

She smiled to herself as Neville began to speak; perhaps there was some hope after all.

Mod Post!

Mon, 21 Jan 2008 04:28:27 GMT

Mod Post!

Welcome to everyone - our little community here is growing nicely! Feel free to go around and pimp us out!

First order of business: I've amended the Community Rules slightly, to make the types of work allowed a bit clearer. It now reads: 2. Het, slash, femmeslash and gen are all welcome in Dumbledore's Army. AU, canon compliant and canon non-compliant fics are all welcome, provided the focus of your work is still Dumbledore's Army or its members. All time periods are acceptable, from the conception of Dumbledore's Army in Order of the Phoenix through to the distant future.

Basically, so long as it involves the DA in some aspect, it's allowed. That goes for most things - if you have questions about what's allowed, go ahead and email me or comment/post, but 90% of the time, I'll tell you to do whatever you like. :)

Second order of business: Tags. I'm keeping Tag Creation as a moderater-only function, because I'd like to try to keep them searchable and under control. If the volume of posts becomes too much, I'll think about either getting another mod, or opening tag creation to all. For now, once you've posted, I'll have created an author/artist tag for you that will look like "author: kaymbee". other tags will be:
character: lavender brown
rating: pg13
ship: neville/lavender

If a tag is there, and it applies to your work, go ahead and use it. I'll create the others as neccessary, and once we get a nice little archive of posts, it should be nice and easy to search!

Thanks!
kaymbee

Fic: Memory is a Complicated Thing

Mon, 21 Jan 2008 03:29:25 GMT

Title: Memory is a Complicated Thing
Author: idea_of_sarcasm
Rating: *NC-17*
Characters/Pairing: Ginny/Neville; Frank/Alice
Summary: You have to know the past, to understand the present
Warnings: Non-DH compliant. Written just prior to the release of the book. aka AU, as much as I made it compliant before DH :)

(Part 1)
(Part 2)

.

Fic: A New Definition of Beauty

Sun, 20 Jan 2008 22:02:08 GMT

This is a great idea for a community...and it took me these few days since joining to realize I do have something to contribute as this comm gets going :) Unfortunately my only other DA members fic beyond this one was pre-DH.

Title: A New Definition of Beauty
Author: idea_of_sarcasm
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairing: Ernie/Lavender
Summary: Two residents of the Dai Llewellyn Ward find comfort in the aftermath.

(A New Definition of Beauty)
.

Recs List/kaymbee fics

Sat, 19 Jan 2008 14:00:35 GMT

A small selection of some of the incredible DA fics already out there - if I've missed your favourite, please let us know, either in the comments or a new post!

All Ye Faithful
such_heights : http://community.livejournal.com/hp_holidaygen/24227.html
(gen)
Neville, the DA, the Carrows, Christmas holidays.

Lie in the Bed I Make
aishuu : http://community.livejournal.com/quillofferings/97004.html
(gen)
Unfinished WIP, although Part 1 stands alone.

Rock Star/Fairy Tales/Leaving Home
karasu : http://community.livejournal.com/dh_fanfic/19712.html
(PG13, can be read as gen or slash)
Rock Star: Michael Corner returns to Ravenclaw after the Carrows have punished him.
Fairy Tale: Terry Boot recovers after defying Amycus Carrow.
Leaving Home: Dean Thomas goes on the run.

Of Old Friends and Old Times
slam_girl : http://community.livejournal.com/hp_holidaygen/25540.html
(PG, a tiny bit shippy: Neville/Hannah, Seamus/OC)
DA reunion fic!

Arrival
heather11483 : http://heather11483.livejournal.com/18131.html
(gen)
Neville attends the opening feast on his first day back to Hogwarts and finds someone he didn't expect.

Photo Impact
googlebrat : http://googlebrat.livejournal.com/444249.html
(gen)
For Colin, it had never stopped being an adventure.

What Makes All the Difference
gfeather : http://www.journalfen.net/community/smutty_claus/72274.html
(nc17, Padma/Seamus)
Life at Hogwarts has changed drastically under the Headmastership of Severus Snape. In these troubled times, Padma learns that necessity can be a valuable teacher and that hope can be found in the most unlikely places.

Requirement
paradise_loved : http://community.livejournal.com/paradise_fics/3407.html
(gen)
Neville and the remaining members of the D.A. spend nearly two weeks in the Room of Requirement before meeting with Harry again. Neville takes his place as a leader as the current students of Hogwarts fight to survive.

Captive
magentabear : http://community.livejournal.com/hallowedmoments/9053.html
(gen)
Luna drives the Death Eaters crazy while in captivity: They had no idea what they were getting themselves into.

It May Not Always Be So
paradise_loved : http://community.livejournal.com/paradise_fics/3688.html
(pg, Neville/Luna)
"We used to sneak out at night and put graffiti on the walls: Dumbledore's Army, Still Recruiting, stuff like that"

Steel In Its Cauldron
pikkalam_sri : http://community.livejournal.com/hallowedmoments/6915.html
(PG13, gen)
Neville at Hogwarts (defying the Carrows, leading the DA, etc): “Injustice boils in men's hearts as does steel in its cauldron, ready to pour forth, white hot, in the fullness of time” – Mother Jones

Night Blooming Jasmine
j_lunatic : http://community.livejournal.com/hallowedmoments/3182.html
(PG, Neville/Susan)
Susan is ready to do whatever is necessary to resist Hogwarts' new regime.

And you know, my community, so I can pimp myself. :D (Although that's not exclusive - go ahead and pimp your own fics, too!)

the tagged list

At Hogwarts
http://community.livejournal.com/kaymbeefic/501.html
It'll never be the same at Hogwarts.
(gen)

Connections
http://community.livejournal.com/kaymbeefic/1020.html
Parvati wakes the morning after in a gently humming Gryffindor Tower.
(gen)

What It Was Like
http://community.livejournal.com/kaymbeefic/1432.html
Neville tries not to remember what Hogwarts used to be like, but it seems he's always needed Parvati's help.
(gen)

Dumbledore's Army Drabble Series
http://community.livejournal.com/kaymbeefic/1725.html
Character Studies in Drabble Form. Michael, Ernie, Susan, Lavender, Parvati, Anthony, Padma, Seamus, Hannah.
(gen, mostly)

Everything
http://community.livejournal.com/kaymbeefic/2867.html
Michael returns after unchaining the first year. Lavender's been waiting.
(PG13 Michael/Lavender)

If You Try Sometimes (long)
http://community.livejournal.com/kaymbeefic/3232.html
Written for hallowedmoments. Neville and company find the Room of Requirement and hide out.
(PG13 gen, small Neville/Hannah)

When the War Is Over
http://community.livejournal.com/kaymbeefic/3475.html
Two weeks after the war, Neville Longbottom goes home, and takes Luna Lovegood with him. Two hours later, the rest of Dumbledore's Army have joined them.
(mostly gen with mentions of relationships.)

A Matter of Time
http://community.livejournal.com/kaymbeefic/4178.html
Written for hallowedmoments. Neville assures Seamus that Harry, Ron and Hermione will return.
(PG13 unrequited Seamus/Hermione)

Five - or Six - Conversations in the Room of Requirement.
http://community.livejournal.com/kaymbeefic/4548.html
Spies, lipgloss, booze, seduction, revenge, success - the Room hears it all.
(PG 13 Michael/Lavender, Neville/Hannah, Seamus/Padma)

Five Times Neville Longbottom Fell In Love With Hannah Abbott - and Vice Versa
http://community.livejournal.com/kaymbeefic/4684.html
(PG Neville/Hannah)

Are You Awake?
http://community.livejournal.com/kaymbeefic/5584.html
Only one bed in her infirmary was still filled, but that one occupant concerned Poppy Pomfrey greatly. It was going to take a different kind of medicine than Poppy could provide to rouse Lavender Brown from her bed.
(PG slight Michael/Lavender)

And finally: I do keep this fairly up to date with what I'm reading - http://del.icio.us/kaymbee
Mostly it's DA members, whether it's DA related or not - currently 80 tags with at least one DA member not named Weasley, Potter or Granger. The DA tag is here, although everything currently on that tag is in this post.

Fic: Fortifying the Keep (Neville Longbottom)

Sat, 19 Jan 2008 00:58:47 GMT

*waves* What an excellent idea for a community! And I even have something I can contribute!

Title: Fortifying the Keep
Author: aggiestories aka aggiebell90 aka me :D
Summary: On the run from the Carrows, Neville finds safety--and a friend--in the Room of Requirement. A missing moment from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.
Setting: Post-DH, obviously
Characters: Neville, portrait!Ariana Dumbledore, and Aberforth Dumblefore
Genre: Gen
Rating: PG/Teen
Word Count: 3856

Follow the link to my fic journal!

I Saw You First (Michael and Ginny)

Fri, 18 Jan 2008 19:13:43 GMT

Title: I Saw You First
Characters: Ginny and Michael Corner
Rating: PG
Summary: Just a conversation that takes place after Michael rescues the first year from the Carrows.
Warnings: Unbetaed. Otherwise this is pretty tame :)

Follow the fake cut to my fic journal

Fic: Staff Meeting

Fri, 11 Jan 2008 12:00:45 GMT

Title: Staff Meeting
Rating: PG13
Summary: Staff meetings are bad enough when you're paid to attend them. When the first rule of your unpaid job is "Don't Die", staff meetings are utterly painful.
Characters: pretty much the entire year 7 DA.
Notes: We've all been stuck in this meeting, right? Where your co-workers seem like they're being deliberately annoying? Where no one can agree on anything? Where you just want to scream from the sheer frustration? Welcome to the DA, The Office-style.

( The argument had been going round in circles for nearly forty minutes )

welcome!

Thu, 10 Jan 2008 07:43:43 GMT

Welcome to magicgoldcoins, a community that focuses on the members of Dumbledore's Army!

Settle in, make yourself at home - the Room of Requirement is just over there if you need anything. Neville's around here somewhere, he's pretty good at getting the Room to give you what you need.

Of course, if you've got something to share with the DA, please, go ahead and post it! We welcome all fanfic, icons, art, etc that focuses on the DA and their adventures during - and after - Hogwarts.

If you have any issues that the Room can't solve, please email me, your moderator, at magicgoldcoins@gmail.com