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Games [Harry Potter; Remus & Narcissa; G]
Jan. 6th, 2010 12:47 pmFandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Remus, Narcissa
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gate_ship 's 2009 ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
fandom_stocking
It was a game they played, whenever they met in public. She would be snippy and haughty, he would be coolly polite, and both pairs of eyes would dance at the absurdity of it all.
It was a game they had been playing ever since they met at Hogwarts. She had been a disgruntled third year, sick of trying to live up to the reputations of her older sisters. He had been a lost little firstie. Together they had found a common purpose in evading Filch and Mrs. Norris.
It was a game they played, a game to which only they knew the rules. She had come up with the unspoken signals, the double entendres, the subtle clues they used to convey the real meaning of their conversations. He had come up with a way to keep score, them against the world. Neither was sure who was winning at this point.
It was a game they would continue to play until justice was done and the oppressors found themselves in Azkaban, laws were changed, and equality was more than a nice idea. She, one of the most innovative healers to appear in the last century, was trapped in a loveless political marriage, condemned to prescribing nothing more potent than afternoon tea. He, who had the potential to be a dueling champion and had a true gift of teaching, was sentenced to menial labor for the crime of being in the wrong place at the wrong time as a child.
It was a game they played and that game kept them both sane.
Characters: Remus, Narcissa
Written for
gate_ship 's 2009 fandom_stockingIt was a game they played, whenever they met in public. She would be snippy and haughty, he would be coolly polite, and both pairs of eyes would dance at the absurdity of it all.
It was a game they had been playing ever since they met at Hogwarts. She had been a disgruntled third year, sick of trying to live up to the reputations of her older sisters. He had been a lost little firstie. Together they had found a common purpose in evading Filch and Mrs. Norris.
It was a game they played, a game to which only they knew the rules. She had come up with the unspoken signals, the double entendres, the subtle clues they used to convey the real meaning of their conversations. He had come up with a way to keep score, them against the world. Neither was sure who was winning at this point.
It was a game they would continue to play until justice was done and the oppressors found themselves in Azkaban, laws were changed, and equality was more than a nice idea. She, one of the most innovative healers to appear in the last century, was trapped in a loveless political marriage, condemned to prescribing nothing more potent than afternoon tea. He, who had the potential to be a dueling champion and had a true gift of teaching, was sentenced to menial labor for the crime of being in the wrong place at the wrong time as a child.
It was a game they played and that game kept them both sane.