TV or Book verse: TV
Characters: Harry, Murphy, Bob.
Summary: It’s hard enough writing a love letter to a woman when you’ve never written one before. Add a ghost’s commentary, and it’ll be a minor miracle if the relationship advances. (sorry, the muses insisted this was romantic)
Written for the: Dresden Files ficathon
Assignment: Something with Connie and Harry together: either really romantic or something with a lot of romantic/sexual tension.
Word Count: 1,000.
Disclaimer: I own neither the Dresden Files, nor any of the non-original figures herein.
Notes: Italics are Bob’s remarks. (except in the epilogue)
Note: Dresden's is a draft, remember.
HARRY DRESDEN’S LETTER:
This letter might seem like its coming from out of the blue. And it is, sorta, because there’s a reason for it. A good reason.
You know me, I’m not good always good with words. But I’m going to try. I have to. I’ve got good reason to.
I like you, Murph. A lot. *This* much, in fact. Wait, you can’t see that. Well, I could make it so the page shows you, but the Council’d kill me.
I like your eyes. I could try to be poetic and compare your eyes to moonlight on a reflecting pool.
Flattery is good. Metaphors are good. Combining them, however, requires more practice on your part.
I like your smile. No, I love your smiles. Each time you smile at me, it’s like a sunrise on Christmas morning.
And you’ve got a really cute nose.
Always good. Women do appreciate being flattered on the features of their nose. Detail, Harry, give detail.
I like – and appreciate more than you will ever know – how you listen to me even when you don’t really believe what I’m telling you. I love how you treat me like I’m not a
Well okay, I could, but you’d doze off – not deliberately – while I’m still thanking you.
I believe the modern phrase is ‘if you can’t make it memorable…’
At the risk of repeating myself, Murph, there’s something I need to tell you. And, since every time I try saying it to your face, I get tongue-tied, here’s as good as anywhere.
Ah good, Harry. Now write what I tell you to – tell her that her hair smells like lilacs growing in the rich and fertile beds the colour of her hair. Tell her that in your world, the sun rises and sets at her beck and call. Let her know that she may not realize it, but she has cast a spell on you, one enrapturing your soul like a salmon in a net. Inform her that her voice is as delicate as bells.
Note to self: do not let Bob meet Murphy.
I heard that.
You’re pretty. I like you more than I’ve got the words to say.
Or that could potentially work.
That does not go in a letter, Harry.
You’d have liked my parents, Murph. And they’d have
Save this for during your dinner with the lady, Harry. This letter is to get you that dinner, not to steal away your conversation during it.
Thanks for letting me take a walk with you yesterday. Really, I don’t mind not being needed to solve a case. (if I seemed a bit short to you – and I don’t doubt that I was – I was
Just don’t compare her nose to them. I realize this may come as a shock to you, but women don’t find that in charming in the least.
Your friend and admirer,
. Harry Dresden.
I’d omit the ‘and admirer’ part were I you.
EPILOGUE: MURPHY’S LETTER:
You think I’m pretty?
You really think I’m pretty? ‘Course, a declaration like that would’ve had a bigger impact if you’d said it *before* you snogged me hard and long (and forget my surname, Harry, I’m mostly Cornish) on two separate occasions.
Don’t worry about nearly snapping my head off at the crime scene yesterday. It happens to all of us, and I’m frankly surprised it took you as long as it did.
While I’m on the subject of yesterday, Harry, a woman stopped by yesterday morning. Said her name was Mai, and that she was a friend of yours. We talked for a bit, and before she left, she gave Anna that umbrella you and I were under during the downpour.
Can Mai and Mr. Dresden come to my birthday, Mom?
I mention it because I want to know if you asked her to give us the umbrella. Because Anna’s been playing with it all morning, walking up and down our little stretch of sidewalk. (yes, I’m writing this while sitting on my front steps keeping an eye on her). And I want to know how you got it to hold water – the thing’s been raining all day now, giving a gentle mist to anyone who steps under it while its open.
I know a magician swears never to reveal his secrets, but please, just this once, Harry? It’d really make Anna’s day.
Though it’s odd… I couldn’t find any of my umbrellas before I left the house yesterday; that’s why I borrowed Anna’s. It’s like they all vanished – or got eaten by the ducks (that one’s Anna’s theory)
Now, now that we’ve both gotten that off our respective chests, think I can interest you in a pizza? My place, tomorrow night. I think you’ll like Scrabble.
PS: Call me ‘Murph’ one more time, and so help me, I will never be more than a friend to you. :P ;)