TBAY/SHIP: Romance on the Big Bang

[susannahlm <susannahlm@yahoo.com>]

No: HPFGUIDX 50055

"No, no, keep your eyes closed," says the woman, in her chirpy voice. 
Derannimer complies, stubbing her toe as she is led around a corner. 
She is wondering, not for the first time, if this was such a hot 
idea. Of course Ms. Mary Suzanne Jenkins had come with excellent 
references; and it would have taken a great deal more time to have 
done it all herself. . . but still, perhaps it really hadn't been the 
the best idea to hire an unknown interior decorator to redo the 
mouldering Shipping Wing on the Big Bang destroyer. Too late now, 
though. 

"All right now," sings out Mary Suzanne, releasing Derannimer's hand 
finally. "We're here!" Derannimer opens her eyes. "Well, and what do 
you think?"

"Oh! Uh. . . 

"oh."

Derannimer wonders briefly if all of reality can have gone pink, 
before wondering briefly if there could be something wrong with her 
eyes, before realizing that yes, she really was standing in a large 
circular ballroom that yes, really was, ceiling and all, done out 
in. . . maybe "Blushing Rose?"

Well, not all of the room. The first four feet or so of wall, from 
floor to hideously ornate moulding, is plastered with candy-cane 
striped wallpaper. 

Derannimer, seized with a morbid curiousity, moves to the wall to 
inspect it more closely. 

Mary Suzanne's happy voice is rippling out from the middle of the 
room. "And I was thinking, of course, a light BLUE for the morning 
parlour," it is saying. 

The moulding is all carved up in little intertwining--or rather, 
quite large intertwining--roses. 

". . . it's really quite a GLO-rious room, too! Look at those 
WINDOWS!" 

The woman makes a grand, windmilling gesture around at the walls, 
which is tragically lost on Derannimer, because Derannimer is not 
looking at Mary Suzanne. Derannimer is looking at the wallpaper. She 
has just realized two things. 

1. The candy-cane wallpaper is not red-and-white. It is red-and-pink. 

2. So *this* is what all those mystery novelists meant when they 
spoke of "a thrill of sudden horror." 

Mary Suzanne's voice seems somehow to fade away--though Derannimer is 
betting it hasn't, really--as the girl slowly steps away from the 
wall, craning her neck back to look up and around the rest of the 
room. Yes, that probably is "Blushing Rose." Probably about five 
coats worth of "Blushing Rose." And that is most inarguably a shiny, 
shimmery, sending-pastel-shades-of-soft-light-across-the-already-
quite-hideous-enough-thank-you-very-much-walls strobe light. 

Derannimer realizes a third thing. 

3. No, it was *not* the best idea to hire an unknown interior 
decorator. It wasn't even the better or the good idea to hire an 
unknown interior decorator. 

Derannimer brings her roving gaze to settle on Mary Suzanne, who is 
still speaking, although now she is sashaying through the room as she 
walks, leaving footprints in the pink shag carpeting. 

"It WAS quite a job, but I think I've got it done NOW! And TELL ME, 
dear--" wheeling around like some odd species of bird, and abruptly 
facing Derannimer--"what DO you think?" 

Derannimer suddenly realizes that she doesn't want to tell Mary 
Suzanne what she thinks about the room, partly because she suspects 
that her words may be inadequate, but mostly because she has a queer 
impression that Mary Suzanne might attack her if she did. 

"It's MAHVELOUS DAHLING," she says instead, wondering wildly if 
anyone actually ever *says* that, as she briskly strides towards Mary 
Suzanne. 

"Oh, well I'm so pleased that you LIKE it!" says the obviously 
gratified decorator. 

Derannimer comes up to her, grabs the woman by her slim shoulders--
which is quite difficult, as they are still gesticulating--and 
marches her towards the big double doors. 

"Now, do call on me whenever you need ANYTHING done," says Mary 
Suzanne, as Derannimer detaches one hand from her shoulder and grabs 
for the doorknob. "And do WRITE me if i--"

*Clang.*

Derannimer wonders briefly, as the heavy wooden doors slam 
satisfyingly shut, if the decorator noticed anything abrupt about her 
departure; but she doesn't wonder long. Women like Mary Suzanne 
notice very little. 

Derannimer turns back towards the room, and leans against the double 
doors. As she looks around the ballroom, at the high, vaulted ceiling 
and arched windows, it strikes her for the first time that the room 
is really quite a nice one, and she bursts into tears. But only for 
about five seconds, after which she decides that she may be a woman 
with a pink ballroom, but dash it all, that's no reason to start 
behaving like a woman with a pink ballroom! 

Also, the door seems to be moving against her back. 

"Darn it, Sailor!" A muffled voice is coming through the wood. "Open 
the blasted door already!"

Derannimer unbursts out of tears and dashes out of the way of the 
door, as it is flung open by a quite irate Captain Cindy, who 
positively charges into the room. Gail and Eileen come in after her, 
though at a more sedate clip. 

Gail and Eileen. Oh *no.* Crewmen. Crewmen that want in to the 
Shipping Wing. Derannimer wonders unhappily how long they were 
waiting to speak to her, while she was gadding about with a mad 
interior decorator and--

and *bawling like an idiot,* for heaven's sake. 

Derannimer is not entirely surprised that the Captain is marching 
towards her, a rather dissatisfied expression on her face, pausing 
only to stagger slightly when she sees the strobe lights. She stops 
in front of her crewman, and says, quite low and quite clearly:

"I am talking to you. Outside." 

She points. 

"Now."

The hallway outside is narrow and dimly lit. But not pink. 

Captain Cindy closes the doors on Gail's curious look, and turns to 
Derannimer. 

"Now listen, Sailor," she hisses. "I may have let this shipping stuff 
on my ship, but that doesn't mean I intend to run it! What am I 
supposed to do when you're not around--sit the crewmen down and talk 
them through their shipping *myself?* Not half likely! Now I have 
given you a *job* to do and if I catch you deserting your post again, 
*you-are-gonna-regret-it!*

"Am. I. Clear."

"Ma'am, yes, ma'am," says Derannimer, aware that she is standing much 
straighter than she had been a minute ago. 

"Sorry," she adds, as the intensity as the Captain's glare seems to 
be diminishing. 

Cindy looks closely at her for a minute, then nods. "And another 
thing," she says. She doesn't sound mad any longer, but she does 
sound. . . dubious? 

"Crewman, why is that room pink?"

Gail backs away from the moulding as the doors bang back open, and 
Eileen, who had been trying out a pirourette on the fat carpet, 
straightens and tries to look less ridiculous. The Captain does not 
approve of pirourettes. 

The Captain seems to be in quite a good mood, however; once inside 
the ballroom, she looks around and starts laughing. After a minute, 
so does Derannimer.

Gail and Eileen exchange puzzled looks. They've both had a good look 
at this ballroom, and they can't find any humor in it at all. Pain, 
now, yes. But hey, as long as they're in a good mood. . . 

"Uh, Derannimer," begins Gail. "Eileen and I had a couple of shipping 
theories, and seeing as how you're in charge of this--" she waved her 
hand helplessly at the room--"this place, we wondered if maybe--"

"Of course she will," interupts the Captain. "Matter of fact, I'll 
sit in myself. Give you. . . *romantic* types a hand with your 
Banging."

"Oh," says Gail, taken aback. "Well then, how 'bout we sit down and--"

"But not in here," says the Captain hastily. 

Obviously, there are *some* limits. 

Derannimer isn't sure if this is a good idea--she hasn't even seen it 
yet--but at least it isn't pink. 

"How about the morning parlour?" she asks brightly. "I understand 
it's a light blue."  

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The morning parlour is actually quite nice. For one thing, the light 
blue turns out to be *extremely* light, and a good deal less "robin's 
egg" than Derannimer had imagined. The room is small; after they go 
in the door, there are only about four steps forward to the square 
table that occupies most of the room. Well, three steps forward, one 
step *up* and one step forward; that portion of the floor is slightly 
elevated. There are only three chairs, but seating won't be too 
difficult--this room is on the side of the ship, and the first thing 
you notice as you enter the room is the recessed bay window facing 
you across the table. The window ledge is broad, and excellent for 
perching. 

Gail grabs a chair, Captain Cindy and Eileen settle themselves on the 
ledge, and Derannimer potters about for a minute getting tea. There 
is also a large hutch in the room, which sits off the "dais," and 
which contains a good many tea bags, a electric hot plate, and--for 
some strange reason--an awful lot of vintage brandy. 

Derannimer hands everybody a mug, takes a chair, and looks 
expectantly Gail-wards. "Well?" she asks. 

"Well," says Gail. 

"I've been giving some thought to Banging and SHIPs in general. And 
I've come to a conclusion; SHIPs can Bang--almost *any* ship can 
Bang."

Captain Cindy opens her mouth to say something, but Gail holds up a 
hand and hastily continues.

"*But* not. . .  oh dear, how can I put this. . . I don't mean a SHIP 
qua a SHIP. I mean a SHIP combined with something else." 

Derannimer frowns slightly. "I'm afraid I don't quite follow."

"Let me give you an example then."

Gail sits for a minute, thinking and drinking her tea. "All right 
then," she says, setting a decisive mug down on the table. "Let's 
take a Harry/Hermione SHIP. 

"Fifth year; Harry finally notices that Hermione is a girl, asks her 
out to Hogsmeade, takes her on long walks around the lake, whatever. 
Point is, they are an item. They've always cared for each other as 
friends, but now they care for each other more even than--"

"Could you cut this part *short,* already!" The Captain is giving 
Gail a most uncharitable look. 

"Right, right," Gail says hastily. She continues. 

"Anyway, leaving all the mushy stuff to the fic writers, the point is 
that Harry is in love with Hermione--" the Captain clears her throat 
loudly--"and then Hermione gets killed." 

"Oh!" says Derannimer. "I think I see where you're going with this."

"How does she get killed," asks Cindy, whose interest in this 
scenario seems to have abrubtly increased. "Can she be killed in an 
ambush?"

"Sure she can be killed in an ambush," says the generous Gail. "She 
*ought* to be killed in an ambush, actually. Or in any extremely 
gruesome/painful way you want. With one caveat--she has to die in 
front of Harry. Or, if you like, Harry can die in front of her. See, 
they are completely and madly in love and then after you think 
that the two are going to live happily ever after, OUCH! One of them 
is killed...maybe if we're lucky, right in front of the other's 
eyes. A messy smear that Filch will have to clean up. Would that 
count, Captain? Derannimer?"

"Oh, the humanity!" exclaims Derannimer. Captain Cindy still looks 
sceptical, but remains silent. 

"Yeah, see," Derannimer continues, "I really like that. That can 
really Bang. See, here's the thing about Banging SHIPs: the SHIP 
itself does *not* bang. "Two people in love," does not Bang. You 
know, unless we're gonna SHIP SS/HG or something, in which case--"

"Eww!" objects Gail. 

"Precisely. But at any rate, the point is, most SHIPs don't Bang by 
themselves. 

"What *does* Bang with a Ship, now, is _what being in love makes 
people *do,* in reaction to outside circumstances_. For instance--and 
I know you hate this Captain--look at Lollipops."

The Captain emits a loud snort, which everyone ignores. Derannimer 
continues. "Or for another instance, look at my own favorite: FITD-
RecklesslyJealous!Ron Variant. Or look at Gail's suggestion. 

"With Lollipops, it's not 'Love of Lily' that Bangs. But Snape 
becoming a DE Bangs. And Snape turning spy Bangs. And if either of 
those events was *prompted* by 'Love of Lily,' then the fact that 
Snape was in love led to a very serious Bang. 

"And with FITD-RecklesslyJealous!Ron Variant, Ron loving Hermione 
does not Bang. But Ron being unhappily in love can *prompt* him to do 
something that will Bang."

"You know," Eileen interjects, "despite how often we R/Hers make fun 
of it,
Evil!Ron is the only form of H/Hr that I findacceptable. Evil!Ron 
would be bangy and fit in withthe very bangy plot. But currently, I 
don't see it - I won't go into that here - and even if he were to go
evil, I'd rather not that love be at the root of it.Going to the dark 
side is a big important thing, and JKR would cheapen her treatment of 
it to base it off someone being slighted in love. It wouldn't be bangy
enough."

"Oh, no no!" Derannimer interupts. "No, I don't like Evil!Ron either. 
Goodness, no. 

"No, I'm proposing something rather different. I'm proposing that Ron 
does something. . . something *stupid.* Something careless, because 
he gets angry and Just Doesn't Think. I'm not trying to make some 
kind of. . . of *Snape* parallel. I was thinking more of a Sirius 
parallel. You know, hot-headed, thoughtless, that kind of thing. Like 
with Prank, almost, except that instead of nearly feeding his enemy 
to a werewolf out of anger/irritation, Ron accidently does something 
that endangers Harry--or the Light Side generally--out of 
anger/jealousy. Like Sirius would. 

"Or really," she adds, after a moment's hesitation, "really, almost 
like *Hagrid* would. 'I shouldn't 'a said that.' Not malice; just a 
mistake."

"So," says Eileen, "you're saying that the anger, or jealousy, or 
general stupidity that can go *with* the love is the. . . the Root of 
Bang, in a SHIP."

Gail is nodding. "One might almost say," she says, "that it isn't the 
love; it's what goes wrong with the love."

"Yeah." Derannimer nods. "'It's The Misery, Stupid'.

"Not," she adds a minute later, "that I'm calling the C--any of you--
Stupid'."

"Well I should say not," growls the Captain, whose countenance has 
been pretty black ever since Derannimer brought up Lollipops. "Look, 
Derannimer, Gail, Eileen--here's the problem. 

"It's all very well and good to propose a Root of Bangy SHIPs, but it 
won't work very well in the long run if *JKR* doesn't have a Root of 
Bangy SHIPs, and I don't think she does.

"See, ya gotta understand love," Cindy began. Derannimer quirks an 
eyebrow, which Cindy ignores. "There's eros, which is sexual love. 
There's philos, which is friendship. And there's agape, love of God. 
Then there's storge, which is parental love --"

"Yes, yes, I've read _The Four Loves_ too," interupts 
Derannimer. "And what we are talking about here is eros. So?"

"So the idea of eros as potentially Bangy is non-canonical, and the 
most Bangy type of love in canon is storge."

There is a silence in the little room for a minute, as Gail, Eileen, 
and Derannimer think about this. 

"I mean, look at the instances in canon in which a witch or wizard 
knowingly and directly sacrifices himself or herself to save another 
wizard's life. Lily. Mrs. Crouch." 

"But," says Eileen, "if romance doesn't motivate major character 
actions, then we have more than the demise of LOLLIPOPS or something. 
We have the *Death of Shipping* as we know it."

"Yeah," says Cindy, with a grating degree of mock sorrow. "Tragic, 
in'it?"

"Hold on a minute, Captain," says Derannimer firmly. "First of all, 
even if eros never is a motivating factor in the canon, that doesn't 
mean the Death of Shipping. It means the Death of Bangy Shipping. 
I've read an awful lot of Shipping discussions, and trust me--
*nothing* will *ever* mean the Death of Shipping. Trust me. 

"Second. Let me remind you that the HP books have thus far been 

A: Quite, *quite* sexually conservative and oblique, and 

B: Told from the point of view of 11-14 year olds. 

The older the Trio get, the more we see in the way of Romance. The 
older the Trio get, the more we *will* see in the way of Romance. So 
the fact that we have not seen eros as a major motivating factor to 
this point in canon does not mean that we never will; after all, pre-
POA and Cho Chang, we didn't see eros as even *existent.* 

"Eros is generally not a big motivating factor in the life of an 11-
year old. It can be in the life of a 17-year old."

"Yeah, *but,*" says the Captain, still radiating smugness, "We 
haven't seen it in the lives of the *adults* in the series either. 
Surely you're not gonna tell me *they're* too young for it."

"No. Of course not. But the books are told *from Harry's point of 
view.* How much in the way of adult eros do you think an 11-year old, 
notoriously unobservant Harry is going to pick up on, anyway?"

Seeing that the Captain is still smirking annoying, Derannimer simply 
adds: "Look. If, when the next book comes out, whenever that is, if 
ever, it turns out that Lollipops is true, you will have to concede 
the point. And if the romance is kept extremely light and minimal, 
*and* there is no Lollipops, then *I* will have to concede the point."

The Captain grins at her suddenly. "You're on. Loser has to pay for 
the re-decorations in the ballroom."

"Wait, I wasn't proposing a b--"

"Too late. You're on."

"But I--"

"Too late."

As the Captain outranks her--and as it would be nice to get that room 
re-done, one way or another--Derannimer decides not to press the 
point. But she does dearly hope that she wins that bet. She doesn't 
even want to *think* about how many cans of paint it would require to 
cover all that 'Blushing Rose'."

"You know, Derannimer," says Eileen thoughtfully, a minute and a re-
filled mug later. "What you said about the romance being 
kept 'extremely light' made me think of something. See, bangs are 
nice, but you don't really want a 100% bangy OotP, Cindy, trust me. 

"*What!* Of *course* I--"

"You want a bangy and funny OotP, and JKR's shipping so far has been 
*very* funny. Teenage love may not be serious, but it's hilarious to 
see caricateur in people like Ron, Hermione, Viktor, and Harry."

"You're absolutely right," says the Captain firmly. Derannimer had 
always suspected that the woman could shift gears at the speed of 
light. "It's as I said previously--Shipping does not Bang. It's 
something light and fluffy for us all--well, for some of us, anyway--
to enjoy, but it *does not move the plot.* I think canon suggests 
that *if* there's romance in future books, it will be for humor 
value -– superfluous, a distraction, a side-show -– and not at all 
connected to important plot developments." 

"You may have a point," says Eileen. "We want Bangs that involve 
bloody ambushes, not Ron discovering that Hermione's cheating on with 
Harry."

"We want Bangs that involve erstwhile friends committing tragic 
errors of judgement and leading those whom they would really least 
wish to betray *INTO* BLOODY AMBUSHES! HA-HAH! Storge *THAT*!" 

The Captain, Gail, and Eileen all look at Derannimer with some 
concern. 

Derannimer blinks. "I'm sorry," she says. "I'm not altogether sure 
why I said that."

"Did you. . . Derannimer, you didn't have any of that brandy in 
there, did you?" The Captain points at the hutch. "Because if so. . ."

"No, no. No, I didn't. I think that maybe--"

Derannimer does not get a chance to finish her sentence. 

The floor and walls and table and teapot all suddenly explode. 

Or at least, that's what it sounds like. 

The whole room swings crazily, and Derannimer hits the floor, hard--
or maybe the floor hits her, she's not sure--but whichever it is, the 
floor doesn't seem to be down anymore, because although she's on the 
floor she's sliding down, and she can't be sliding through the floor, 
so the floor must not be down, and heavens above, *what* is 
happening, and 

"Did something hit us?" she hears herself yelling. 

*Thud.* 

She hits something, and stops sliding.

She opens her eyes. She hadn't realized before that they were closed. 

The room seems much dimmer than it did a minute ago. She is lying in 
the angle formed between one wall and. . . and the *floor,* which is 
now--judging by the fact that all the chairs, all the mugs, and her 
fellow theorists are in a heap at one end of it--tilted severely 
upwards. 

Captain Cindy is already standing up, propping herself--up?  
sideways?--as she walks towards Derannimer. 

Derannimer decides that maybe she had better try to stand up as well, 
and starts small by sitting--and whacks her head against something.

"Ow!" she exclaims. "What--"

"The window ledge," says the Captain briefly. 

Derannimer slowly gets to her feet, and turns around to see the 
Captain, standing, indeed, by the window ledge. And by the window. 
Which now seems to be pointing into the sea. 

Or, rather, half into the sea. Looking out the window reveals a lot 
of grey and gently swirling stuff--presumably water--and then a thin 
line, like a pane of glass edge-on, swaying--presumably the surface 
of the water--and then. . . well, it's hard to tell. Water droplets 
cover the upper half of the window to such an extent that Derannimer 
can't see through it. But the water droplets almost glow with the 
light caught in them--so that, presumably, is the sky. 

"The ship is resting sideways in the water," says Derannimer clearly.

Gail slowly comes up behind her, and looks out the window also. 

"Not really sideways," the Captain corrects Derannimer. "If it was 
dead sideways, *all* that window'd show is water." 

"Captain," says Derannimer, still speaking very clearly, and 
slowly. "I do not want to drown."

Captain Cindy stares at her incredulously. 

"*Drown?* You're not going to *drown!* This vessel is eminently sea-
worthy!"

As if to prove her point, the ship suddenly shudders, and the floor 
slowly starts to tilt, back towards horizontal. After a minute, the 
ship stops moving again and rocks slightly. Level. 

There is a minute of silence among the four now-rather-disheveled 
theorists. Then the Captain speaks. 

"On deck."


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The wind is swift and cold as Derannimer and the others rush out on 
deck. Spray whips their faces, pulls their hair out behind them, as 
they run to the railing, to the side of the ship, to try and see It 
better. 

It. 

"Oh my! *Look* at it!" Derannimer hears Eileen exclaim behind her, 
but she doesn't say anything in response. She is too busy looking. 

Half the sky has turned to black. Away in the East hangs an enormous, 
towering mountain of cloud, roiling in the air. Lightning threads 
through the clounds, rims their edges in fire. 

A few pinpricks are light are visible against the blackness: SHIPs, 
Derannimer realizes. When not engaged in combat, the SHIPs retreat 
into a high orbit around the Bay. 

"What *is* that," she yells, although she does not know if anyone can 
hear her over the noise of the wind. 

Apparently no one can. Eileen's mouth is moving, yelling something, 
but Derannimer cannot catch her words. 

She feels someone tugging on her arm and turns; Gail is standing 
there, and pointing at the wall of the stairwell. The Captain is 
already standing there. Derannimer nods, and she and Eileen follow 
Gail over to the stairwell. 

Here, the wall cut into the wind. Here, it is much quieter.

"What is that?" Derannimer asks.

"You haven't figured that out yet, huh?" asks the Captain. And 
*smirks.*

Derannimer blinks. How indescribably annoying. 

"What are you talking about?" she asks the Captain. "A whacking great 
black thing in the middle of the sky, that somehow managed to half 
capsize the *boat?* Why are you smirking a--

"*what?*" She has suddenly noticed that Eileen has a very similar 
smirk upon her face. And that Gail is gazing heavenwards, with an 
exalting eye. And bouncing happily. 

"Look, all of y'all," says Derannimer, by now really angr, "would 
someone please just tell me what is going on?"

Eileen looks at her. "Hurricane," she says simply. 

"Oh. But--

"Oh!"

And begins bouncing happily also. 


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A few days later, Derannimer, Captain Cindy, and Gail are sitting in 
George's Tavern, drinking and watching the rain lash down the 
windows. (Eileen had excused herself, stating an engagement with 
Elkins.) 

"So, Captain," said Gail. "As an experienced sailor-person, how long 
do you think we've got before it hits?"

"Weelll," says the Captain slowly, "I was talking with Elkins and 
Tabouli about that the other day--you know, the old crowd--and 
Tabouli reckons that it's moving pretty slowly. We've still got a few 
months. Of course, every once in a while we'll get tremors--but 
nothing like the one when it got here. But on the whole, we've still 
got a few months."

Derannimer looks up from her tea, and asks something she's been 
wondering about since the day the storm came. 

"What about the SHIPs? With the lightning, and the wind? What's going 
to happen to them?"

"What's going to happen to any of us?" Cindy points out, oddly 
cheerful. "The lightning and the wind--and the *rain*--gets the 
SHIPs, the waves get the Bay. This storm's hitting all of us. But 
hey, we could use the rain."

"And anyway," says Gail softly, "what's coming will come"

"and we will have to meet it when it does," Derannimer choruses, 
rolling her eyes. She laughs. 

"And anyway," continues the Captain, "*we're* all perfectly safe."

Gail and Derannimer stare at her.

"Bangers," the Captain explains. "The Big Bang is perfectly safe."

She leans in closer to her companions, lowers her voice. "Now as for 
*that* guy," she mutters, jerking a thumb at George, busy polishing 
glasses behind the bar, "I'm not taking any bets on *him.*" 

Derannimer (who would miss George)