Belong 13 is a transitional part. It is the first part of the endgame. It is, as they say, the beginning of the end. I had a couple of general goals in this part, meaning that they would end up at a certain place with certain people, knowing certain things. Beyond that I had no plan. As I pointed out earlier, I realized that Harry was a very hollow man (ha ha ha, T.S. Eliot pun, very appropriate) as he has no hobbies and I'm not even sure what he does for a living at this point. I mean, really. I've got Draco all worked out and Harry got left in the dust. So I wanted to give him some hobbies and such. And for some reason I picked photography.
Well. So what happened is this: I wanted to talk about his photography, and I accidentally went off on a tangent. For some reason I like those poignant moments, so I added one to this transitional part. In order to talk about his photography, I decided that I needed a photograph that I could purport that he had taken. And that lead me down this path. So: for your preview pleasure:
[The background. Harry took this picture at a fencing match he attended with Draco, in which they both participated. ]
I like writing with pictures. It's great fun. The things I learn from writing slash....
Well. So what happened is this: I wanted to talk about his photography, and I accidentally went off on a tangent. For some reason I like those poignant moments, so I added one to this transitional part. In order to talk about his photography, I decided that I needed a photograph that I could purport that he had taken. And that lead me down this path. So: for your preview pleasure:
[The background. Harry took this picture at a fencing match he attended with Draco, in which they both participated. ]
![]() | Seeing the photo had taken Draco by surprise. At first he wasn't sure that it was really himself in the picture; the fencing mask covered his face, the jacket and even the pants were uniform. But there was something in the curve of the shoulder, the way the jacket rested against his hip, that made him see himself all of a sudden. Having been taken by a muggle camera, it didn't move, of course. The stillness of it was oddly striking, like a flash of memory, one moment stretched into eternity, living constantly and yet halted in such a brief moment that there was no room for movement. Though the motion itself had been sharp, loud, and tense, in the photograph it looked tender, as if he held his foil delicately in a careful parry, pressing against his opponent's blade with such softness and grace that they need never move, never shift. It looked as though there were no tension at all in that hand, that arm, They stayed immutable with forever-crossed foils. Leave it to Harry to pin him down in a moment of strenuous conflict and portray him as gentle. Draco treasured that photograph, and had hung it rather prominently in the living room of his flat. Sometimes, after Harry had left his bed to return to his own, Draco would slide into his slippers, pull on a bathrobe and pad out into the living room to look at it. It was a photograph of him, but everything about it reminded him of its photographer. |
I like writing with pictures. It's great fun. The things I learn from writing slash....