Maureen, I read your first entry story, then read it to my husband and we were howling with laughter! we enjoyed it thoroughly! can't wait for your next; it's refreshing to read something that the writer wrote tongue-in-cheek about fanfiction's overly descriptive style. I especially liked the shortness of it because when I see a loooooog story posted, I feel intiminated and it looks like homework!. Don't forget it add something about AR! :8)
Zzzzz
- Wednesday, March 31st 2004 - 06:43:41 PM

Hello FOF writers! Sorry Smoke! I hang out with preschoolers all day and a pink hamster came to mind! Still enjoyed the story though! Soooo.... My First entry... Split Times First split time: Present day Billy was such a mystery - and a frustration. Any other four- year old would be babbling about the latest adventures of Spider Man or Power Rangers by now - not Billy. He wouldn't even talk to his parents. Occasionally he would say one or two words, but nothing more. Judith was beyond frustration. There was nothing medically wrong with this kid, and she was too stubborn to give up on the mystery. All the textbooks, theories, and other bits of information on speech pathology she could find were useless.Nothing worked. Sooo... back to the internet for more ideas. An hour passed... still no luck. However, the weather was becoming unsettled. What was brilliant sunshine a few hours ago was quickly becoming dark. Huge dark clouds were rolling in from the west, threatening a serious thunderstorm. Suddenly there was a crack that rattled the air, even the windows seemed to want to break under the sudden climate change. Definitely time to call it a day.Unfortunately, the sudden electrically- filled sky shot out the power all over the neighborhood. This in turn affected the electronic doors from operating properly and Judith was stuck in the room - alone. Or so she thought... End of entry - must be off to run errands - sorry!
Maureen
- Wednesday, March 31st 2004 - 08:10:31 AM

BtW-er - way to go! Very nice. Makes me mourn for Harry all over, poor kid. It also makes me fear for the ending - how can Harry possibly get out of this and heal when we (he) knows the worst is to come? How many more loved ones are we going to lose before it's all over?
smoke
- Wednesday, March 31st 2004 - 08:04:28 AM

I love when you people accidentally make the font too large - it's so much easier on my eyes! :p
grit
- Wednesday, March 31st 2004 - 07:51:11 AM

aww thats fantastic, congratulations :)
Sophie
UK - Wednesday, March 31st 2004 - 07:11:09 AM

BtW, don't worry about it...I've done the same thing on the DT Bar and I'm still here! even after I forgot a precious "/font" and turned the whole page magenta!

BTW, thank you for your helpful response to the quote-emotion order; it's typical that it's a both are correct case, maybe that's why it puzzled me, I'd go with using both.
Zzzzz
- Wednesday, March 31st 2004 - 12:17:24 AM

Font tag fixed. And congratulations!
Suz (D.o.C.)

DoC? *help?*
Barbara the Wallpaper-er, published Web-Author *whoo-hoo!*
- Tuesday, March 30th 2004 - 10:57:08 PM

I've been published on the Sugar Quill!

*insert shriek of delight here*

Click on my name to link or paste
http://www.sugarquill.net/index.php?action=profile&id=885
into your browser to read it

The title is Afterwards

whoo-HOOO!
Barbara the Wallpaper-er
- Tuesday, March 30th 2004 - 10:52:55 PM

Further entries from the obtained journal, submitted to the Board of Commission Investigating the Recently Completed Disturbances in the Shire of Nottingham During the Reign of Our Glorious King Richard Lionheart

Everyone went to bed early since there was really no reason to stay in the great hall or even awake. Servants were already working to prepare the official feast for the next day, the king and Count Godfrey were still together doing whatever it is rulers do when they meet face to face as opposed to on the battlefield, and no one felt in any mood for carousing. So it was off to bed for everyone.

The next morning dawned bright and sunny, to my great relief. A rainy or otherwise miserable day would not be good hunting weather. I dressed and bounded down the stairs to the great hall to break the fast, hoping that the king had had a good night's sleep and was in a relatively mellow mood. I had just reached the bottom step when a sudden movement in the shadows caused me to swing around and reach for my dagger. I peered into the gloom tensely, then relaxed. It was Leofric.

"Begging your pardon, sir, but one of the men guarding the dungeons told me something that I find a little surprising, to tell the truth." He stood with arms folded across his chest and a grim frown on his face. It occurred to me that he looked a little too much like a master about to demand a reckoning from a servant.

I pushed the thought aside; he was a good servant and I was no doubt imagining things. Besides, I knew what he was talking about. "You refer to my decision to release Will Scarlet, don't you? I didn't enjoy it, Leofric, but local politics demanded that I make a conciliatory gesture to Locksley and there wasn't much I could do as long as his half-brother was still imprisoned here." It was all Leofric needed to know, I told myself.

"I understands that, sir. It's just that I wish I'd known you were going to do it so's I could have made arrangements to get information out of him before he left." The words were respectful but the look in Leofric's eyes was cold and angry.

I could feel my temper starting to rise. Servants did not demand an accounting from me about anything I did or didn't do and perhaps it was time for me to remind Leofric of that. "Speaking of arrangements, Leofric, I must say I was rather surprised to see Scarlet looking as plump and healthy as he did. It has been my observation that spending weeks in a dungeon without access to light, fresh air and exercise has a debilitating effect on prisoners, yet Scarlet seemed to me to look quite healthy. You wouldn't happen to have an explanation for that, would you?"

His brows came together in a deep scowl as he considered my comments and it seemed to me that he was having an intense debate with himself about how to respond. Then his features relaxed, he uncrossed his arms and he stood at respectful attention in front of me. "I told the men to give him exercise every day, sir. On account of his brother's position in the shire and the king's coming visit. I didn't want either of them to have cause to complain of his treatment here, sir." His tone was again polite and courteous, and all traces of resentment were gone.

I looked at him carefully. Perhaps I was imagining things; perhaps Leofric was simply put out that I hadn't taken him into my confidence. At any rate, I had other things to think about this day. "Very well. Good idea. I am pleased to hear that you were thinking ahead like that. And I'm sorry that I didn't take you into my confidence earlier but the arrangements were hastily made and there really wasn't time." There: I too could extend the olive branch when I felt like it.

Leofric bowed slightly and I accepted the gesture with a nod; apparently we were firm friends again. I turned back in the direction of the great hall and beckoned him to follow. He fell into step beside me as we continued down the corridor.

"Have you much hunting experience?" I looked at him sideways, wondering almost immediately where he would have acquired any, living as a serf on his family's farm. His answer surprised me.

"Aye, sir. I've been on some good hunts. Boar, usually, also deer and smaller game. Are you planning to go out today? Fine weather for it."

I nodded. "I'm going to suggest it to the king and I have no doubt he'll agree. If you've eaten already, round up about a dozen men and weapons, and arrange with the stables for horses. There'll be Locksley and myself in addition to the king and Godfrey." I paused, striving for a casual tone. "And Abelard too, of course."

"Baron Abelard? Hunting?" Leofric stared at me in amazement.

"Yes, why not? He's a good rider, isn't he?" I didn't leave him any time to actually answer the questions. "Now make the arrangements. And tell the kitchens we'll need flasks of water and provisions for one midday meal."

He hesitated, then bowed again. We parted company in the hall, me proceeding to the head table and Leofric heading for the kitchens and the stables beyond. Everyone was already seated and servants were already serving the meal. I made my obeisance to the king and his noble guest, and took my own seat.

Joya gave me a questioning look but the Locksleys simply ate their meal without giving me a glance. Obviously it was up to me to make the invitation. I leaned forward and called down the table to the king. "I don't know whether you've noticed it, sire, but it's a splendid day for hunting. You remember when you were here some months ago you enjoyed hunting in Sherwood Forest and I wonder if you feel like going out today. Just the five of us men, and some of my retainers, you understand. Nothing very elaborate. The women would probably enjoy getting us out from under their feet." I smiled at Joya lovingly; she stuck her tongue out at me.

"Hunting?" King Richard sat up straight in his chair, his eyes gleaming. "What a wonderful suggestion, Nottingham! You've never been in England," He turned to Godfrey and nudged him. "You don't know what you've been missing. There is some rare game in Sherwood Forest. Come on, we'll see some good sport today."

Godfrey looked at him without responding, then swung around in his chair and stared at me. I kept my smiled fixed and tried to look as though I was just being a good host. Finally the Angevin Count turned back to the king. "Why not? I agree. Abelard will enjoy the exercise."

Abelard looked up at the sound of his name, then returned to his porridge without saying anything.

The king peppered me with questions about the arrangements, interrupting himself only to make an observation to Godfrey about the wonders of hunting in the Midlands. The prospect of shooting arrows and spears at something that couldn't shoot back apparently aroused his fighting spirit enormously. I ate my breakfast as quickly as possible so as to get my mail and weaponry on as soon as possible. Joya nodded at me in wifely support. The Locksleys looked at each other without enthusiasm. Abelard poked at his porridge looking for something only he could see.

As we rose from the table and bade farewell to the ladies, it seemed to me that things were going just perfectly.

Of course, I should have known it wouldn't last.

Magda
Canada - Tuesday, March 30th 2004 - 06:20:24 PM

Thanks Lee - that has cheered me up no end after another bad day at work! Hope this posts ok as my connection is really slow at the moment - I also live out in the sticks with no broadband!
Alison
- Tuesday, March 30th 2004 - 02:06:09 PM

lovely episode, i love the way Dumbledore talks to himself outloud :P
Sophie
UK - Tuesday, March 30th 2004 - 01:16:26 PM

Snape entered his den
and reviewed several reports concerning Bernie Burgess’s autopsy. He finished preparing a document as his legal summation for the Wizengamot should the case end up there, and there was no doubt in his mind that it would. He fastened it to his Great Horned owl and sent it on its way to Doctor Caldwell in London.

Snape checked the time and secured the secret room behind the hearth. The stack of parchment on his desk, waiting for review, grading, and translation, had grown to scary proportions, which made him think of McClane’s quarters. He made a mental note to clear it out later today. He spoke the complex incantation to seal his quarters and strode the corridor towards the Headmaster’s office in the south tower. He stood before the lift and quietly spoke the password of the day, which was “peppermint,” and then stepped in. Professor Dumbledore was waiting just inside for the meeting as the clock’s bells chimed quietly seven times.

“Punctual as the clock Severus.” The Headmaster said as he motioned Snape to be seated at his desk. Snape nodded as he sat down.

“Headmaster.” He said quietly.

“Tea?” Professor Dumbledore asked, lifting the pot to pour into a mug in which the milk and sugar had already been added.

“ Thank you,” said Snape as he gratefully received the brew. Dumbledore regarded him for a moment. He’d never recalled Snape looking so contented before.

“You must have taken my advice and gotten some sleep, you look quite well rested I must say. Now then, tell me what you and Victoria know about McClane, and don’t leave anything out please.” He said with gentle authority. Snape set the mug down.

“McClane made unwelcome sexual advances on Gwenevere in the owlry yesterday morning.” He said as long-lived hatred for McClane flashed in his eyes. Professor Dumbledore winced slightly and squinted his eyes.

“How badly did she hurt him?” He asked out of reluctant curiosity. Snape smirked.

“Enough so that he went straight to bed with a rather nasty headache among other things.” Snape said, savoring the thought of it.

“Good for her. You may continue Severus.” Dumbledore smiled and waived a hand.

“Apparently her house elf discovered what had happened in the owlry and then later found McClane after he’d already been stabbed.” Snape’s tone was unconcerned.

“Dobby? Found him when?” asked the Headmaster. He took a long sip of tea.

“Yes. Approximately five o’clock. Gwenevere found me in my quarters and then we went to McClane’s room together… There was a note and several white feathers at the scene.” Snape said as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the ‘evidence bag.’ Professor Dumbledore looked over his spectacles at the odd muggle object with keen interest.

“May I see it please?” he asked softly.

“Certainly sir.” Snape handed him the bag and Dumbledore looked closely through the bag at the feathers before removing the parchment and reading the rhyme.

“Have you any idea who wrote this note?” He asked, regarding Snape seriously over his half moons.

“None sir, however Gwenevere mentioned something last night.” He muttered, immediately wishing he hadn’t mentioned that last bit to the Headmaster.

“Victoria? What are her thoughts?” The Headmaster asked intently. Snape shifted in the chair.

“I don’t know really, we haven’t discussed it, however--”

“Haven’t discussed it? Weren’t you the least bit curious as to who is jotting down such poetry about Victoria? And how could they have known about the incident in the owlry?” Dumbledore replied with astonishment.

“Yes, I am, and I plan to…take care of it all in good time.” Snape said. The elder wizard chose to change the subject as he preferred not know exactly what Snape meant when he said ‘take care of it.’

“What have you done about Dobby?” He asked curiously.

“I performed a memory wipe on him.” Snape answered casually.

“I didn’t know you could do memory wipes on elves.” Dumbledore looked skeptical and spoke his thoughts absently. Snape shrugged.

“Lucius Malfoy performed them on a regular basis.” He replied. The Headmaster considered the statement carefully and tilted his head.

“Hum…well that explains things doesn’t it? Is there anything else you wish to say about this matter?” He asked, signaling the close of the meeting.

“I assume you have implemented extra security at Hogwarts.” Snape commented as a matter of formality, knowing well it had been done yesterday.

“Yes indeed I have. If Victoria has anything to add, perhaps she will come and see me this afternoon?” Dumbledore brightened visibly as thoughts of a welcome visit from the lovely and gracious Gwenevere entertained his mind. Snape’s eyes softened slightly and he stood as Professor Dumbledore adjourned the meeting with a small nod.

“Yes headmaster.” He said as he turned to leave. As Snape and the Headmaster entered the lift on their way to the great hall for breakfast, they discussed Gwenevere’s apprenticeship and her goal to become the first ever fifth level Potions Mistress.
lee
- Tuesday, March 30th 2004 - 12:46:15 PM

Zzzzz - sounds like FUN!!!
smoke
- Tuesday, March 30th 2004 - 11:33:07 AM

test.
lee
sorry, but my posts have a problem going through due to the slow dial-up available in the sticks where I live., - Tuesday, March 30th 2004 - 10:31:06 AM

Hi Sophie, they have two more class lab potions to complete. That is always fun. Hi Alison, smart girl. We don’t want to tangle with Gwenevere and her third degree black belt do we? Haha. I love Sir Nicholas as well and his teasing is fun to write. I think the veritaserum is strictly for the prison but you never know. Thanks Marie, I am glad you like our little Snape soap opera. I think when you are so busy it is just the right length for a little get away hopefully. Almost ready ACC. LOL. XXXX, I am writing, I promise. Smoke, good luck with your story and I hope to be reading your work soon if you choose to write one of the open characters on FoF.
Thank you all very much for your posts, and T.L.C. is almost ready to appear this afternoon. (I was bad and did not write over the weekend, so I am trying to catch up.)
lee
- Tuesday, March 30th 2004 - 10:25:23 AM

Joke.

Q: How many Snapes does it take to screw in a light bulb?
A: None.

The frightened little bulbs jump into the sockets all on their own, wind themselves up, and glow before he even gets in the room...how would you like it if Snape grabbed you by the neck, screwed you into a socket, forced you to glow, then left the room allowing you to burn- out? ;)
Zzzzz
- Tuesday, March 30th 2004 - 10:02:13 AM

Maureen - a little furry animal is not what the man has in mind......
smoke
- Tuesday, March 30th 2004 - 08:26:56 AM

Thanks for the kind comments. In dusting off my files (I wrote that story some time ago.) I found that while "After the Meeting" started out as a two chapter story, I had then incorporated it into a much longer tale; one that's still in progress. While it is connected, in a way, to Tonks and does mention her, she is not a main character. To incorporate the Tonks bit, I wrote another chapter to precede the one posted. What I trying to say, in my own rambling fashion, is that what I posted was actually chapter 2 of a longer Wizard's Tale.

It's probably just as well I can't be posting this story here as I'm not sure I could bowdlerize the next chapter enough to meet site requirements and still tell the story. (Snape is not a nice man!) If I post elsewhere, I'll let you know!
smoke
- Tuesday, March 30th 2004 - 07:17:45 AM

Super writing, Smoke! Enjoyed every word. Thought for a moment that Tonks was going to be changed into a little furry animal or something! Can't wait to read the next bit! Maureen (Germany)
Maureen
- Tuesday, March 30th 2004 - 06:47:14 AM

Smoke, I just wanted to let you know how much I enjoyed your Tonks story! Yes, please let us all know where you are going to continue it. Maybe an exception could be made here and let Smoke continue? We must see what happens! At any rate, top job Smoke and keep up the good work. All the other ladies are terrific writers too-Lee, When are you going to give us our fix?? LOL Off to bed-cant wait to read all the stories tomorrow.
Xxxxx
USA - Monday, March 29th 2004 - 09:56:42 PM

Goodness, it would be cruel to leave the Tonks story there-please continue and tell us the venue, and pick another character to use here too! LOL I am an insatiable FOFer...Magda, Cindy, MA, Therese, Lee yoooooooooohoooooooooyour turn!
ACC
- Monday, March 29th 2004 - 07:55:15 PM

I agree wholeheartedly with those who want to read the next post of "True Love's Curse." I'll have to admit that I'm beginning to crave those snipets..lol. Smoke, a warm welcome to FoF. As far as writing in general. I have a deep respect and appreciation of an author's unique style of writing. In my opinion, that is one of the reasons that makes a prose special in its own way. Keep up the excellent work, everyone! I'll be reading. Hope you all had a wonderful day :)
Marie
- Monday, March 29th 2004 - 03:18:57 PM

Smoke, I love your story too! Tonks is such fun to write I think! Yes, please let us know if you post it anywhere else as I'd love to read more. Sychophant Hex is another good site for posting Snapefic. Good luck! Lee - where are you? You already know we love your story to bits and some of us need our fixes!! Especially after a whole weekend without Sev and Gwen and a horrible Monday at work!
Alison
- Monday, March 29th 2004 - 12:34:45 PM

oh i love the story though - glad tonks was in it! :)
Sophie
UK - Sunday, March 28th 2004 - 07:29:09 PM

How did I miss that section?

Lee and Jutta - very sorry, didn't know the rules and won't do it again.

Thanks for the kind words, Magda.
smoke
- Sunday, March 28th 2004 - 01:21:42 PM

Smoke: click the "Who's Who" link up above for detailed descriptions. Also note that John Gissing has been taken by Liza although it's not listed there yet. And keep writing!
Magda
Canada - Sunday, March 28th 2004 - 12:10:18 PM

Thanks for the info Magda. Are these policies written somewhere? I didn't see them and certainly don't want to step on any toes.
smoke
- Sunday, March 28th 2004 - 11:37:24 AM

Smoke: No, it's not too long and it's well written and the formatting and the writing are both fine. But the thing is, the policy on FOF is that there is one AR character per writer and Lee is already writing about Snape. It's the policy of the board and other people have had to take their second or even third choice characters because the one they wanted wasn't available. You can see who is available if you click on "Who's Who" at the top of the page.

Personally I'm a pushover for a good Tonks story so I hope you continue writing it and let us know where you're going to put it. Can you put it up on Fanfiction.net or one of the Harry Potter sites? And post the URL here so we can follow too. Welcome to FOF.
Magda
Canada - Sunday, March 28th 2004 - 11:16:41 AM

OK, here goes. Never done this before so please be patient with formating errors. (We won't mention the writing.)
All comments, helpful hints and criticisms are welcome though I may not pay any attention to them. (If this is too long, let me know.)

A Wizard's Tale: After the Meeting

To be continued........
smoke
- Sunday, March 28th 2004 - 09:56:33 AM

I'd go for either style as long as it flowed well. I tend to see words in blocks anyway, not one at a time (unless it's something like a text on ecconomics) so either way works.

Cindie - your line "we're here to have fun and enoy each other's contributions" gave me the best laugh of the day! Tell me, the letter left out of 'anoy', was that supposed to be an 'n' or a 'j'??
smoke
The Island, - Sunday, March 28th 2004 - 06:33:17 AM

A "concerned party" is not me, although I wouldn't mind a party or two right about now. I personally have no problem understanding the postings and have no opinion about the "correctness" of either form of syntax. Hopefully we can avoid arguments and "ganging up" behavior in this venue. There are other places to do that.
ACC
- Saturday, March 27th 2004 - 11:01:23 PM

BLAAAAAAAAT!

Mary Anne leans on the horn and calls out the window, “Therese, come and get in the car!”

Therese, however, seems reluctant to leave her post by the door of the Cwrw ac Isalaw---and by the side of the huge baritone named Bryn, with whom she seems to be deep in conversation. Grinning, Mary Anne blasts the horn again until a grayish-green voice from the back seat moans, “Mary. Anne.” Pause. “Stop. That.”

“Oops. Sorry.” Shaking her head, Mary Anne leans back against the seat, careful to keep her hands away from the horn. What on earth happened in there, I wonder? Once the ladies had telegraphed to each other with eloquent glances that it might be time to beat a decorous retreat from the pub and leave the men to sort themselves out, Mary Anne had declared herself designated driver--“Because I’ve had nothing but lime and soda and I’m probably the most sober person for twenty kilometres!”--- and gone to get the car. But something had obviously taken place in those few minutes, a something that resulted in Barbara being helped from the premises, propped up by Sandy on one side and Dane on the other, to be unceremoniously packed into the back seat.

Mary Anne turns to Sandy. “Is she going to be all right?”

Sandy eyes Barbara, and something in what she sees causes her to hastily lean across to roll down the window, then push Barbara’s head out into the cool evening air. “No barfage in the car!”

Barbara’s response is something along the lines of “yxmlf,” followed by a mumble of “brrrilp” and a long sigh.

Sandy waits a moment and then, reassured by the absence of barfage, turns back to Mary Anne. “I don’t know. She was really putting away that rocket fuel in there--I thought it was the guys who were going off to get drunk? Or who were going to get Mistral drunk. I thought that was the plan?”

Mary Anne glances at Cindie, who returns an innocent look worthy of Mary Anne herself.

“Plan?” chortles Mary Anne. “When did you ever know Mistral to go along with any plans but his own?”

Cindie smiles at this, a smile that instantly brings Mary Anne to full alert. “Oh, sometimes he does, when he’s made to understand that he doesn’t have a choice.”

Whatever response Mary Anne might have in mind is cut off as Therese hustles into the car. “All right, already! I’m here!” She slams the door behind her and there is a soft wince from the general direction of Barbara’s head, still poked out the window.

“Honestly, Therese,” needles Mary Anne as she puts the car in gear. “I could’ve changed clothes three times while you were over there chatting up Bryn---“

Therese makes a rude noise. “Only three?”

“Well, it would depend on the accessories, I suppose . . .”

“Face it, Mary Anne; you are the clotheshorse of clotheshorses!”

Mary Anne smirks. “Well, if I’m any sort of a horse at all, then that would only be good for our friendship, wouldn’t it?”

In the trading of quips that follows, it is a little while before Mary Anne notices that Cindie is riding quietly, enjoying the conversation but not participating in it, her hands folded in her lap and her eyes fixed on the Welsh evening landscape all about the car. High colour in her face, a set look in her eyes . . .

The long, twisting driveway of Mistral Manor. They have arrived, and as Sandy and Therese assist Barbara from the car, Mary Anne turns to Cindie, who has not moved in her seat.

“So, Mistral does occasionally give in to someone’s else’s plans, does he?”

“From time to time.”

Mary Anne studies the calm face beside before proceeding. “This would be one of those times?”

“It would seem so, yes.”

That flush in Cindie’s cheeks, that soft shine in her eyes. Mary Anne has never seen her look quite so beautiful, and she smiles a little to herself as she takes the key from the ignition.

“I’m glad, Cindie. I am so glad.”

MA---I'm curious too, Cindie!
Giving Barbara a window of opportunity (to hang her head out of, if necessary!) - Saturday, March 27th 2004 - 08:23:35 PM

Interesting point, Zzzzzz. I checked my last post and found that within a few paragraphs I'd placed the description of the speaking line both before and after. But as far as FoF goes, we're here to have fun and enoy each other's contributions and seeing different writing styles is all part of that.

The question I'm *really* wondering about, is just how drunk our Ms. Barbara is right about now. I'm hoping our favourite Wallpaper-er will be enlightening us soon.

Cindie
- Saturday, March 27th 2004 - 02:11:19 PM

Thomas Hardy often puts the description after the quote. I guess she should give him writing lessons as well. So does Shakespeare come to think of it.
Thomas Hardy fan
- Saturday, March 27th 2004 - 02:08:18 PM

Zzzz (Joan) please stop criticizing everyone on the boards especially these wonderful writers on FOF that give us all a most welcome boost at the end of the day with their delightful stories and adventures. I am sure the majority of us love them and find nothing wrong with the format, which includes the grammer and style which you have referred to. I don't recall seeing your name here as a contributor? Please think before criticizing others Joan. Thanks in advanc. Great job Ladies-keep the stories coming.
an FOF follower
- Saturday, March 27th 2004 - 01:35:27 PM

Other than Zzzzz's simply typographical error, s/he has a valid question.

The answer to "Which way is it done" is, unfortunately, Zzzzz, Yes. Either format is valid.

There are multiple schools of style, each more vociferous than the last, each certain that its own style is the best/clearest/most proper.

The most common style, mostly due to the influence of journalism and journalistic writers such as Hemingway, has been to follow the words with the description (i.e. "Thank you, dear," she said sleepily).

Hope that answers your question!
Barbara the Wallpaper-er
- Saturday, March 27th 2004 - 11:38:22 AM

Hey Zzzz, if you're going to criticize the way we write, then perhaps criticize us with correct grammar. You wrote "Thank you, dear", she said in a hushed, sleepy tone. Wrong! The correct punctuation is "Thank you, dear," with the comma right before the quotation marks. And as Concerned wrote- we can write whichever way we please.
An FoF Writer
- Saturday, March 27th 2004 - 10:55:27 AM

I believe the writers on this page can edit their stories any way they please. It is of coures THEIR story. THNX
A concerned party
- Saturday, March 27th 2004 - 01:10:40 AM

There's something I've always wondered about fiction and I'd be happy for an explanation: Shouldn't the description of the character's emotion come first, then the character's words?

For example: She said in a hushed, sleepy tone, "Thank you, dear".

Instead of: "Thank you, dear", she said in a hushed, sleepy tone.

I enjoy reading the character's words in the character's tone, but I don't know what it is until I've read the descrption, thus I too often get the tone wrong and have to re-read.

If you were to read, "Thank you, dear", she said loudly, gritting her teeth, trying hard not to laugh,-- you'd never guess the character's emotion just reading, "Thank you, dear".
Here's a friendly thank you!
Zzzzz
- Friday, March 26th 2004 - 05:44:40 PM

Ok Lee, I'll give in (for the moment) and let Gwen keep Snape - I don't fancy getting into a fight over it, haha! I love the Sir Nicholas posts, he makes me laugh! And the veritaserum issue sounds like it could be interesting - do they have to test it out again?? See you Monday, have a nice weekend everyone!
Alison
- Friday, March 26th 2004 - 03:48:13 PM

as we see later on hey ;) sounds promising :) hehe
Sophie
UK - Friday, March 26th 2004 - 02:19:24 PM

A Delectable Snack

Long after Alyssa had gone to bed, Joe was still swimming round and round in the tank, a frown on his strangely human face. He suddenly stopped as a meow wafted in through the open kitchen window. Because it was the middle of summer, Alyssa had throw up every sash and turned on every fan she could find in a vain attempt to cool down.

Joe was frozen behind a clump of fake seaweed, staring wildly and trying to pick out the enemy. Sure enough, a crafty tabby cat was sneaking along the outside sill, sniffing the air and licking its thin, furry lips.

Joe, now hovering close to the purple pebble floor of his tank, began to formulate a plan in his over-active brain. Right, moggy, he thought, clenching his fins, I regret that you shall be deprived of your supper this fine night. You just watch…

He braced himself against the bottom of the tank, tail folded underneath him like a coiled spring. He could almost hear the Mission Impossible theme playing, and smiled to himself. A delectable snack he might be, but he wasn’t going to let a cat get the better of him.

The cat slunk up until it was pressing its sleek body right against the tank. It began to search the tank with laser eyes, looking for its midnight feast.

Just a little closer, moggy..

The cat lifted a paw…

Another inch…

It flexed its claws…

It lowered its paw into the tank…

The first claw touched the smooth surface of the water…

“AAAAARRRRGGH!” The battle cry echoed around the kitchen.

Joe hurtled out of the water, a strand of the plastic weed held before him like a lance. The cat was so shocked, it couldn’t move. The weed shot straight at its face - and into its open mouth.

There was a muffled yowl as the cat stumbled backwards, spitting out hard green fronds, choking violently. Then the cat took one step too many backwards, and toppled out of the window.

Joe watched in triumph as the cat raced away across the yard, spitting the remains of the weed onto the floor with gurgling retches. “You’ll never get the better of Joe T. Fish!” yelled Joe, shaking a fist at the fleeing feline. Sinking down again, Joe smiled to himself and drifted off into a chocolate mousse-filled dream. Black Wolf Thanks, Sandy! Diane, isn’t Ian Maxtone-Graham someone on “The Simpsons”?
Black Wolf
- Friday, March 26th 2004 - 01:07:55 PM

Gwenevere entered her quarters and was pleased to find that Snape had left her a fire in the fireplace, which took the chill off of the room. She crossed to her bedroom and found the bed made and the tea tray waiting for her. She peeled off her soaking wet running clothes and slipped into her thick white dressing gown and then poured a nice hot cup of tea. She smiled as she entered the bathroom and wondered if Severus had removed the privacy spell before he left this morning, as she was eager to hear from Sir Nicholas. She drew a hot bath and eased into the tub.

“Good morning Gwenevere, what have you done to Professor Snake? “He said quirking a brow.

“What ever do you mean, Sir Nicholas?” She asked with mock innocence.

“I actually heard him humming Largo e Pianissimo Sempre in E minor as he passed me careening down the corridor.” Nick looked astonished.

“Haven’t you ever seen Professor Snape in a good mood before?” She replied, taking a long sip of tea.

“Let me put it to you this way…NO!” Sir Nicholas’s eyes were unusually wide open today and his head was cocked to the right more than usual. He blinked and adjusted his head appropriately.

“Well brighten up Sir Nicholas, I’m sure it won’t last too long, it’s simply not in his character. By tomorrow I am quite sure that he will be back to normal.” She said, setting her teacup and saucer down on the chair beside the tub.

“I am afraid I still don’t know any rabbits who met doom at the hand of rule four. Said Sir Nicholas reticently. He avoided her gaze and Gwenevere became suspicious.

“Sir Nicholas, is there something you wish to tell me?” She asked.

Sir Nicholas thought better of it and decided to prepare her gradually, over a length of time. He’d heard rumors only and wanted to be sure before worrying her.

“Er…no-but I am thinking of asking the Bloody Baron to help in the search, but he is so overbearing you know, he might scare them away.” Sir Nicholas said as he searched his mind for an idea.

“I am afraid I really don’t know the Bloody Barren very well…Oh! You don’t think he will come in here do you?” she became a little concerned at the thought of him flying about on the ceiling.

“No, Professor Snake, being mad with jealousy and all that, would have his head on a platter for that one, no needn’t worry dear.” He assured her.

“Good!” she said as she looked about the ceiling for proof. “I will keep checking around, Good Day.” He said, tipping his head politely.

“Good day Sir Nicholas!” said Gwenevere, pouring shampoo in her hand. She had planned to hurry a bit this morning so that they could begin the Azkaban veritaserum, an event that she’d been waiting her whole life for it seemed.
lee
- Friday, March 26th 2004 - 09:23:48 AM

Hi Alison, I think Claire designed it for him! LOL. Snape got sidetracked but I think Gwenevere may be on her way to have a chat with you. Oh no…Hi Laura, you and Parker and just sit on the porch swing, how’s that? Sounds great to me! Hi Sophie, yes Parker is a victim of his emotions and sometimes our feelings and thoughts can be our own worst enemy. We don’t understand the chemical and physiological forces that cause the destructive tendencies in our lives, but time usually heals those things. He just needs to let time heal him. I like him as well and he has a huge capacity to love and care for others as we will see later on in the story.

Thank you all for the excellent posts, and have a great weekend!
lee
- Friday, March 26th 2004 - 09:16:42 AM

Forgot to mention, that's a flashback.
Diane
- Thursday, March 25th 2004 - 09:16:14 PM

No shadows can pass in a room of black. No flickering lights can lick the walls nor swallow the dark. No feeling of bliss nor triumph may fly, no sparks of glory, no sun. And a giant brick, ten feet tall and four wide, makes sure of this, standing guard as the earth spins. It is an enclosure, a castle, a fortress, one of which nothing can enter without allow from within. And the brick remains locked, unstirring, for hours on end.

For there is no life inside. There could never be life inside. It was a solitary confinement, a jail cell of pity and woe. Yet it was a room all the same. It was a room that supported thought, but no feeling. And this place had many names… Room of Death, Room of Evil, Room of Despair, Room of Destruction. It was feared, it was respected. Yet it was still a room.

And in the middle, and I mean exactly the middle without so much as half an inch to the left or right, lie a desk. There is nothing special to be said about this desk, and, in fact, was quite plain and clearly old. It’s wooden surface had seen much better days, cracked with jagged corners and scratches. It had been through a war, it looked, with furious lines a-plenty jarred upon the top. Rough lines, curved lines, smooth lines, straight lines, all etched in hurried patterns, done plainly with a knife. This desk was a temple of stress.

Who would wish to intrude upon such a forbidding realm? Alas, it is not what the soul wants, but what the soul must. No angel or devil would go willingly, but drawn by a magnetic force that only such a room might hold. For alone as it many be, you can console to the bleakness and confess to the austere environment.

But what is this? A stir, the slightest vibration of sound, can be heard. Can it be? Oh yes. A titter, the click of nails drumming on the desk. They tap repeatedly in the same pattern. 1… 2 3 4. 1… 2 3 4. 1… 2 3 4. And then it stopped as suddenly as it had begun. The fingers then amused themselves with forming shapes of air, twisting and interlocking, lacing and untying the knot again. Their movements were slow and graceful, for hands, and they continued to play the instrument of atmosphere.

And they froze, the two hands clasped, elbows glued to the desk. On them rested a chin, and above the chin imposed on a face of pale white gazed two murky brown eyes flecked with gold. They stared at an invisible ever-fixed mark, non-blinking. This lasted for five minutes, this sullen stillness of a lifeless gaze.

But alas, it was broken by a deep-toned knock on the brick. The figure at the desk awoke, and licked his lips and called out, "Enter."
Diane , <Webmistress_diane@eric-idle.com>
- Thursday, March 25th 2004 - 09:10:54 PM

i quite like Parker, in a sad sort of way, i feel a bit sorry for him, he isnt all that bad really, just a bit love struck bless him! Im supried i remembered that myself actually lol
Sophie
UK - Thursday, March 25th 2004 - 03:28:07 PM

Oh- I'm w/ Parker- my excercise days are over too! It's so overrated- and painful!
Laura , <ex-varsity field hockey player@ i'm now athletically declined.com>
- Thursday, March 25th 2004 - 03:04:32 PM

Ha ha - I see Parker likes running just about as much as I do. And what a tasteful outfit you put him in Lee, I'm sure Gwen wished she'd stayed in bed when she saw that! By the way I think Sev got lost on the way to France.... I'm still waiting....
Alison
- Thursday, March 25th 2004 - 01:55:42 PM

Parker stalked over to the track and scanned the fence line for the gate. He stopped dead in his tracks and was paralyzed like a love-struck schoolboy after his first kiss as his metabolic system went into over-drive. He stood motionless; barely able to breathe and watched her through the dusky fog as the rain streamed down his face.

She was completing her pre-run stretches and had all of the grace and poise of a prima ballerina. His gaze began at her feet and slowly ascended upward along her long shapely legs and slender hips to her tiny waist up her back to her broad shoulders and finally to her long French braided hair. He felt slightly guilty for invading her privacy but could not jar his eyes from the sight of her. He was mesmerized.

Gwenevere unzipped her white jacket and tossed it over the same bench that Boots was sitting under out of the rain. Parker’s heart skipped some beats and he worried it would explode as he squinted for a better focus. He had seen her without her robes in the library once but she had been sitting behind a table working on a legal project for Gringotts. He was not prepared for this.

Gwenevere noticed Boots staring off in the distance and assumed he was looking for the calico cat but when she turned around she saw Parker. She put her hand to her brow to shield her view from the rain be sure. She was not pleased. Parker read her facial expression and body language and then snapped back to reality. He immediately broke out into a cold sweat he was not expecting this kind of reaction.

“Hello! Er…fancy meeting you here. -Thought I’d try and get into better physical condition with the summer approaching and umm…well mind if I join you?” he called as he entered through the gate and stood facing her.

Gwenevere regarded him with wry reservation. He was wearing a navy blue running suit made out of some sort of billowy parachute material with blaze-orange stripes running the outside of the sleeves and trousers. He was covered with watery mud and grass stains and his inappropriate white tennis shoes were on his feet devoid of socks.

“Professor Parker, have you ever exercised before?” she asked him, staring at his feet. Parker was trying desperately to avoid looking at her well -developed chest or bare flat midriff and looked only at her cat, which regarded him with sardonic disdain bordering on incomprehensible boredom. Boots yawned and Parker was convinced that he deliberately stuck his tongue out at him.

“Oh yea, I’m quite fit actually.” He said, hoping she wouldn’t notice.

Gwenevere gave him a skeptical laugh and turned to start. Parker followed. She began with a slow jog as usual and Parker jogged beside her. ‘This is going to be a piece of cake!’ He thought to himself, puffing slightly. They were a quarter of the way round and he estimated that she would go a couple of times and call it quits-it was a very long track. As they approached the first bend, Parker noticed her speeding up and assumed that she was trying to impress him so he easily matcher her new speed and gave her silent credit for her efforts.

As they jogged along the far stretch, he was becoming quite winded and was glad that they were almost finished. Gwenevere pressed on and increased her speed yet again. Parker listened to try and hear her labored breathing but could hear nothing of the sort. Instead, all that he could hear was his own desperate wheezing. Parker’s leg muscles were starting to hurt now and he yearned for the final bend to appear but was glad he’d almost managed the two laps.

“How are you holding up Professor Parker?” Gwenevere called behind her, wondering if Parker was going to last for the entire lap or not.

“Fine, couldn’t be better. Two laps goes by rather quickly doesn’t it? I feel like I could do seven or eight in this weather!” He managed to say through his winded gasps. He was getting blisters.

“We’ve only been one and the warm-up phase is almost over. Are you sure you can manage it?” She replied. Parker felt dread creep over him as a sharp stitch stabbed his gut.

“Warm-up? Er…yes of course. I was only joking.” He laughed and held his left hand over the pain to try and ease it; it felt as though his guts were falling out. He wondered how many laps she’d planned for today and if he could possibly fall and break his leg on command. The thought of Madam Pomfrey’s dull needles was a lovely daydream compared to the torture of running. They came to the final bend in the track and parker tried to mimic her steady rhythmic pace and slow breathing. It was obviously more difficult than it looked.

As soon as Gwenevere crossed the line, she increased her speed to a full run and left Parker behind as if he were running backward. Her long legs and perfectly balanced form gave her the speed of a gazelle as she ate up the ground with her sweeping strides. Parker ran faster and his knees and hamstrings began to ache. Minutes later, Gwenevere passed Parker and showed no signs of slowing. Parker judged her to be going even faster. He pressed on and thought he could save face if he finished lap two as she finished lap three. He started to limp slightly and slowed to a jog as Gwenevere passed him again on her forth lap. Parker wanted to die but knew that such luck could never happen to him. He was walking to the finish line as she passed him again and slowed to a jog just after lap five.

He limped to the bench and sat down, hoping he would not pass out or vomit in front of Gwenevere. Boots ran. Parker's lungs were on fire and his calves were cramping. Gwenevere finished her cool-down in lap six and walked over to him, picking up her jacket and zipping it on. She was not even breathing hard at this point.

“Are you all right Professor Parker?” Gwenevere said with the look of concern expressed on her face.

“Yes…I…think…so.” Parker said between coughs. Gwenevere inspected him more closely.

“Are you sure?” she asked, regarding him suspiciously and wondering if he should place his head between his knees. He looked rather greenish to her.

“Yes, I just need to rest for a minute and I’ll be just fine.” He said.

“I need to go back to the castle now…um.” Gwenevere stated, but was reluctant to leave him in his present condition.

“Oh, don’t worry about me, I’ll catch up in a moment.” He insisted.

“Very well, hopefully tomorrow won’t rain and we can complete all ten laps.” She said enthusiastically. She’d hoped that today’s extra laps might have discouraged subsequent visits to the track.

“Brilliant! Lets hope so…” he said. The thought of ten laps sickened him further.

“Good day Professor Parker.” She called as she strode up the hill to the castle with Boots cantering behind her. Parker waved his goodbyes and after a proper rest, limped his way to the hospital wing for bandages and liniment. His exercise days were officially over.
lee
oops, sorry for the double post. I hate when that happens..., - Thursday, March 25th 2004 - 11:26:15 AM

Hi Alison, she may need to sort out her priorities or…maybe she knew trouble was near as he tried to remove the Juliet diamond and he’d already pushed the envelope until its teetering on the edge of the table or…maybe she was more perturbed at his “keep quiet” comment than she realized and wanted to show that he does not call all of the shots: maybe subconscious motivations, but I’ll send him right over. Lol.
Hi Sophie, Parker had planned to go running with her a while ago but when he saw it raining, he went back to sleep. The alarm clock fell to the floor on that day as well-I guess it happens every time he sets it. Lol. Good memory though, that was 23 pages ago!
Thanks for the posts everyone! : D
lee
- Thursday, March 25th 2004 - 11:16:34 AM

aww, bless. But something weird is happening, did parker meet Gwen some other time? because im sure i remember it raining and her jogging and parker falling over - was i having one of my phychic moments? odd :/
Sophie
UK - Thursday, March 25th 2004 - 09:19:03 AM

Yes Lee, Gwen needs to sort out her priorities!! Or if she prefers running, just ask her to send Sev for a holiday in France (where we are currently having such lovely weather - not!!) I'll keep him occupied!
Alison
- Wednesday, March 24th 2004 - 01:51:43 PM

I was wondering if anyone would comment of her leaving her nice warm sexy lover to run in the dark rain! And, although she does not know it yet, with Parker!!! What a wacky woman she is. The girl is different! I think Parker was dreaming of making one or something. He is hopeless. I know what you meant Alison, but the way you said it made ‘me’ think of the viagra. I got a good laugh out of it too-thanks! (and you are right, he does not need that!!!)LOL.
lee
- Wednesday, March 24th 2004 - 01:39:22 PM

I agree Claire - why would anyone leave their bed if Snape was there with them - and to go running of all things???? And Parker really needs to get his act together! Lee - thanks for today's story. I cracked up when I read your comment about the viagra - that wasn't actually what I was thinking of at all! I just meant that Sev could probably always find the energy to do what he wants with Gwen without having to take anything to wake him up!! haha, you gave me a good laugh though! I definitely do not believe he would ever need viagra!!! I will try to make my meanings clearer in future! this post is getting too long, bye girls!
Alison , <as you might have guessed, I don't like running!>
- Wednesday, March 24th 2004 - 01:27:26 PM

I meant to say that Parker is still pathetic, was he still dreaming about having a baby with her.
claire , <prague@iwon.com>
- Wednesday, March 24th 2004 - 12:49:55 PM

I would not of got out of bed for anything!!! Sometimes I wonder about that woman. He is still pithetic!!!
claire , <prague@iwon.com>
- Wednesday, March 24th 2004 - 12:48:43 PM

Gwenevere became aware of her thoughts and wondered what was different. The room was still dark and waiting for dawn to begin but something was unquestionably different. She opened her eyes and tried to focus on Severus as best she could and suddenly the mystery was solved. Severus was still sleeping. She smiled to herself as she intertwined her limbs with his in an effort to thieve his body heat. He barely stirred.

“Severus, it’s time to wake up now.” She whispered into his ear as she snuggled her face into his neck. Snape quietly groaned and opened his eyes. Rain was quietly tapping on the windowpanes.

“What time is it? Can’t we sleep a while longer, it’s still dark and raining out” he complained. He wrapped his arms around her and closed his eyes again.

“You have truth and justice to concoct for Azkaban Prison this morning.” She reminded him playfully, nibbling his ear.

“Right. Stay just five more minutes, I promise.” He murmured.

“Alright, five more minutes, and then I shall need to get up and go running.” She said as she settled back into his arms. His hand slowly caressed her back and he nestled in close to kiss her neck. He took her hand in his and began to writhe the Juliet diamond loose from her finger. He purred into her ear…

“The massage was wonderful last night as was the…” Gwenevere interrupted him and his plans.

“Oh no you don’t…we need to get going or we will never finish everything in time for your afternoon classes.” She playfully twisted her hand free and slid the diamond back over her knuckle.

“I have no afternoon classes. My schedule is clear all day…” He said with a gleam in his eye. Gwenevere smiled.

“Very well. But we shall play later as I am anxious to assist with the potion.” She said as she rose and slipped his white shirt on.

She walked around the bed to collect running clothes from the chest of drawers. A short time later, Gwenevere emerged from the bathroom in her black running clothes and gave him a peck on the cheek as Boots leaped off of the bed to follow her on the way out. Snape followed her with his eyes until she left the room.

“I will see you after breakfast.” She called as she closed the door. Snape settled back down and propped his arms behind his head, sighing deeply. The door opened again. “-And please don’t go back to sleep!” she called and closed the door again. Snape smirked and shook his head as he tried to imagine his life without her now.

Professor Parker woke with a start as his small brass wind-up alarm clock loudly sounded with its offending volume on high. He accidentally knocked it to the floor and it clanged about in a circle under the bed until he could seize it and push down the button. He muttered something under his breath through gritted teeth about getting a quieter one as he lie there trying to reconstruct the delicious dream that he was having moments before the alarm sounded. He closed his eyes and smiled as Gwenevere came into view and he remembered his vision. He sailed away in the calmness of his thoughts and then suddenly recalled the reason for the rude intrusion in the first place.

He was planning to meet her this morning for running. He leapt out of bed and dashed to the bathroom to change into his running clothes and brush his teeth. As he looked into the mirror trying to make his hair behave, he lamented how miserable in was-- being in love-- and wondered why anyone would ever welcome it much less go searching for it. He wished he could wipe his memory clean of her.

If he was teaching a class or grading assignments he could keep his thoughts of her to a reasonably slow simmer at the back burner of his mind however when he was idle, his thoughts of her threatened to drive him mad with mental and physical frustration and depression until he could stand it no longer. He felt euphoric and uplifted today though, as he prepared to see her again, even if it was just friends like they agreed upon at their last meeting.

He dressed quickly and headed out to the corridor, floor torches lighting along the wall one by one as he passed. He amused himself with ideas of what she would be wearing and envisioned her in a satiny white exercise suit and sneakers. As he entered the entranceway and opened the great double doors, he became aware of the dreadful weather outside. It was raining cats and dogs and was gloomy, dark and cold. He wondered if she would be running in this kind of weather and if he should chance going the distance to the Quidditch pitch for naught. He decided to chance it for the sake of seeing her at any cost.

He picked his way in the dark over soggy grass and down the hill to soggier grass. As he passed by some trees, he stumbled over an above the ground root and fell face down in the muddy wetness. He stood up and cursed his way to the track, loathing the cold wet thin cloth as it touched his body. The dawn was now arriving and it was just becoming light outside enough to see the ground at least.
lee
Sorry about yesterday, blame Uncle Sam! lol., - Wednesday, March 24th 2004 - 11:00:43 AM

Hi Sophie, thanks! I’m glad you liked it. Thanks Jess, yes he would have never looked at that tall dark vixen if he had seen you first! Next one coming right up, and I hope you are having a good day today. Alison! That’s a scream! I think a vitalization potion is like caffeine and not viagra! Eeek! Heaven forbid, hahaha. ACC, a loyal follower of the FoF. Thank you for that. Hi Claire, I am working on today’s story and it features your favorite person-Parker! And don’t worry; I’m okay for now, thanks for asking. Snapefluffer, you like that huh? Good I try to amuse, I really do. lol. I cannot write in a completely serious manner most of the time so I admit to cracking up as well. Thanks for the post! Hi Maureen, Snape in that state of mind is pretty funny, just wait until Friday’s potion-that will really be funny I hope.
Thank you all, I appreciate it very much. I will hurry and finish today’s episode…
lee
- Wednesday, March 24th 2004 - 10:11:30 AM

Ouch!! Loved that entry!!
Maureen
- Wednesday, March 24th 2004 - 09:23:41 AM

“No, I will not fight it my angel.” He said as he hovered on the edge of conscientiousness

Snort! Brilliantly funny!
Snapefluffer
- Wednesday, March 24th 2004 - 02:24:04 AM

Lee, I hope the thing we talked about the other day is going ok with you. I can't wait to read the next insert to your story.
claire , <prague@iwon.com>
- Tuesday, March 23rd 2004 - 02:57:55 PM

I was wondering when George would decide to reappear. Good job-enjoying all the stories immensely
ACC
- Monday, March 22nd 2004 - 06:15:38 PM

I love it Lee! And I'm sure Sev never needs vitalisation potions, heehee!
Alison
- Monday, March 22nd 2004 - 01:28:47 PM

Very nice Lee. It was worth the wait. If only I had met Severus before Gwen. Hahahaha. Looking forward to the next installment!!! Thanks for making my day that much better!
Jess
- Monday, March 22nd 2004 - 12:15:59 PM

aww so sweet,great episode :)
Sophie
UK - Monday, March 22nd 2004 - 10:58:57 AM

Snape stood and cleverly concealed the act of catching his balance as fatigue and cognac took a toll on his equilibrium. He picked up his wand and followed her, placing a privacy spell on the parameters as he passed the door. He had every intention of *making love to her tonight even if he had to resort to perusing his private stores for a vitalization potion.

As he moved further from the fireplace and into the comparatively cooler bedroom, he began to feel revived as adrenalin and anticipation awakened his sluggish senses. After lighting a small lamp, Gwenevere slowly urged him to sit on the edge of her bed and let her take control of the evening’s activities. Snape expressed acquiescence.

She knelt down and removed his boots and socks. His contentment entered the next phase as her caring touch revealed her absolute love for him in the simplest of gestures. She stood and began removing his cufflinks, playfully reminding him to refrain from participation unless instructed by her. Snape fully intended to cooperate.

She placed the cufflinks on the nightstand and as her fingers unbuttoned his shirt, her lips brushed his lips with a series of tender kisses designed to capture his imagination and hold his acute interest. He stood and found her mouth as she slowly slid his shirt from his shoulders. Their kiss became lingering and deep as his hands smoothly tunneled under cashmere and in one sweeping arc her rose jumper landed the floor. Their emergent need begged in vain for alacrity.

As his hands found hooks, hers dallied with trouser buttons. New desire sparked in his gut as he kissed her throat and collarbones. Gwenevere decided to overlook his illegal participation in the interest of fair play, and stepped out of her boots. Snape managed to peel off her jeans with much less effort than it took for her to put them on-- a phenomenon, which always amazed her.

They fell into bed and Snape’s mind was a blur as the result of her talented use of velvet hands, soft mouth, and whispered affections causing each and every worry and concern to fade dismally into the background of his knowing. Gwenevere took control of their lovemaking and brought him to ecstasy and back again. This night belonged to the lovers and their time together suspended reality, the only matter of importance being the unselfish endeavor to please the other in the manner, which demonstrated their deepest feelings of love and devotion.

Later, as he fought the need to sleep, Gwenevere quietly opened a drawer and took out a flask of special oil. She summoned magic to her skilled hands and prepared to take him to peaceful places unimaginable by most. She began working on Severus’s latissimus dorsi muscles using oils known for their wonderful insomnia curing properties. She next moved to the mid back and onto the trapezius muscles, her hands smoothing out his suppressed stress and discontent.

“Sweet angel of mercy” He said as she manipulated his flesh in trance-like rhythm.

“Just relax Severus.” She said quietly.

“Yes, I’ll certainly ‘try’.” He sarcastically said into the pillow. Gwenevere smiled, her hands accomplishing amazing results upon his lean muscular body. She was working the deep muscles now and knew that even he could not stay conscience much longer.

“Severus?” She purred.

“Yes angel of heaven?” He murmured with his face still in the pillow.

“You will go into a deep sleep shortly, and I want you to welcome it.” Her tone was hypnotic and calming.

“No, I will not fight it my angel.” He said as he hovered on the edge of conscientiousness.

“Good.” she said, kissing his temple lightly. Snape sighed deeply his surrender.

Gwenevere continued to work on him and massaged him down to and ending with his feet. She brushed his hair from his face and gently kissed him goodnight as he slept soundly. After turning out the lamp, she settled lightly beside him and quieted her own mind hence sleep would find her as well.
lee
- Monday, March 22nd 2004 - 08:09:56 AM

Hi Sophie, yes Gwenevere knows how to take good care of her man and overlook the occasional misdemeanor doesn’t she? Hi Alison, I had not planned to end there, but simply ran out of writing time. A little longer love scene as the result though, I hope you like it. Hi Claire, yes you escaped the cliffhanger this time, but I’ll promise to work on it…Hi Maureen, I’m glad you like the FoF stories, keep reading!
Thanks for the posts all! Wonderful!
lee
- Monday, March 22nd 2004 - 08:03:27 AM

Magda
A-hunting we will go, a-hunting we will go, hi ho the dairy-o, a-hunting we will go!, Canada - Sunday, March 21st 2004 - 02:04:25 PM

Awesome writings! Can't wait to read what happens next. Have a great weekend everyone!
Maureen
- Saturday, March 20th 2004 - 08:35:41 AM

Atleast it isn't a cliffhanger. hehehe, have a good weekend girls.
claire , <prague@iwon.com>
- Friday, March 19th 2004 - 04:11:34 PM

Another long chapter - excellent! Although I do wish you hadn't ended it just there! Oh well, we'll have to wait for Monday - have a great weekend everyone
Alison
- Friday, March 19th 2004 - 12:51:52 PM

aww im glad they are finally getting some time to "rest" lol - whoops, im too used to typing to my friend who is gwyn, not gwen, whoopsy. :P
Sophie
UK - Friday, March 19th 2004 - 11:19:45 AM

The Headmaster smiled as he watched Fudge leave and then turned to Snape and Collins.

“Thank you Victoria dear, I always enjoy your sparring matches with the Minister of Magic. He said, chuckling softly. Gwenevere smiled and her eyes were the color of the blue-green sea.

“He can be a problem if left to his own devices.” She said. Snape looked upon his lover with unmistakable pride.

“Yes, he must be controlled or this situation will get rather tetchy. Severus, I expect to meet with you in the morning.” Professor Dumbledore said to the dark wizard. Snape cast a faint smirk.

“Yes, of course Headmaster.” He said calmly.

“ Good. Well I’ll leave you now. Goodnight.” Said Dumbledore, turning towards Gwenevere to receive his customary peck on the cheek, which she sweetly planted on him without delay.

“Goodnight Professor Dumbledore.” She said as he turned to leave. Snape nodded his goodnight. Gwenevere regarded Snape and suddenly remembered.

“Severus! I just remembered Dobby!”

“He is fine don’t worry.” He said.

“Do you think he was missed?” She asked skeptically.

“Perhaps.” He smirked, turning her towards the door.

He was eager to leave the dungeons at last and looked forward to spending the remains of the day quietly with his beloved. McClane’s ill-timed stabbing had left him stressed much more that his outward appearance portrayed. Fudge was gone for now, but Snape knew that he would surely be considered the prime suspect when the facts and circumstantial evidence started piling up. Also, his true alibi could not be revealed and he wondered if anyone knew that he was not with Gwenevere at the time of the assault. Although she doesn’t realize it, she is impossible to ignore, he mused.

They walked along the deserted stone corridors and stairs towards the second floor in silence as neither of them felt much like conversing after this most tiresome day. Gwenevere’s mind raced with unresolved issues and current events of which she needed to consult Severus, but he was simply too exhausted tonight. She had the strong urge to hold his hand or touch him in some way but suppressed it. Professional correctness mandated strict forbiddance of any show of affection between staff members and she wouldn’t dream of such garish transgression.

They stopped at her door. She opened her robes and fished a brass skeleton key out of one of her jeans pockets as Snape looked on with keen interest. Boots met them in the small entranceway and was both overjoyed and famished, as his food dish had been empty for at least thirty minutes.

Snape hung their robes and lighted lamps and then walked over to where Dobby was sleeping peacefully in the living room. Gwenevere watched carefully as Snape lifted the spells and performed a memory wipe on him. Dobby smiled a goofy smile and politely bowed himself out and back to his Hogwarts duties without further incident.

Snape lighted the fireplace and Gwenevere poured cognac as he removed his coat and wand and then settled on the sofa. She handed him the larger glass and he took an ample sip, resting his head on the back of the leather and wondering if he was indeed too tired to *make love tonight. He promptly banished the thought but the fact that he’d been rather harsh with Gwenevere earlier weighed heavily on his mind and he deeply regretted it.

Gwenevere listened to his tired sigh and was troubled about his state of mind; he looked exhausted beyond description tonight. She fed Boots and then settled beside Snape. The fire was warm and soothing, casting its romantic amber glow about the room. He turned his head and opened one eye to look at her. She smiled and sipped deeply her drink, the firelight flickering on the glass and in her hair. She was so beautiful especially in the evening when her lashes shadowed her large mysterious eyes. He visually traced her feminine hand and long fingers as she held the crystal and let his gaze settle on her delicate wrist bone. Anger flashed as he remembered her bruises and wished McClane nothing except ill will.

“I’m apologize for snapping at you earlier.” He said. She noticed an almost imperceptible slurring of his words.

“Apology accepted. I know that you are very tired Severus.” She said, picking his hand up and softly kissing the palm.

“That’s no excuse. It won’t happen again.” He said, and closed his eyes again.

“Enough!” she said. He smiled slightly and took another “sip” thus draining his glass.

“Do you have a clue as to who ‘killed’ McClane?” He asked halfheartedly.

Gwenevere considered his use of the word killed and wondered if he was simply very tired, mocking Fudge or if it was a wishful Freudian slip on his part. She set down her glass and lifted his hand in hers indicating that he should rise from the sofa and follow her to the bedroom now.

“Yes, I have my suspicions, but they can wait until tomorrow. Tonight…my dearest love, you are mine to indulge. She whispered in a voice that made his head swim and engulfed him in a heat that had nothing to do with the fire or the cognac...
lee
- Friday, March 19th 2004 - 09:12:57 AM

Thanks Alison, here is another long one to make up for yesterday. Lol. You have Fudge’s number! Thanks Liza, do hurry back! Thanks Sophie, one should not play games with Gwen! Thanks Jess, I’m afraid I was away all day yesterday and could not post. I am very glad to be missed and I hope you get a peek at today’s anyway. Fingers crossed, lol.

Have a great weekend everyone!
lee
- Friday, March 19th 2004 - 08:57:41 AM

Ugh!! Lee, I'm not going to be around tomorrow!! Please don't make me wait until Monday for the next update on Sev & Gwen. It's just too cruel!!!! I need my fix!!!!
Jess
- Thursday, March 18th 2004 - 02:17:51 PM

People I have to go away for some time so I'm afraid my stroy won't appear for some time but by the time I come back I'll have lots more to say on John, Anne and Caroline. So farewell, for a while. I'll be back!
Liza Rosette
- Thursday, March 18th 2004 - 12:15:46 PM

the longer the better! :) Gwyn certainly but him in his place :P
Sophie
UK - Wednesday, March 17th 2004 - 01:56:51 PM

A Truly Eventful Year

Later that afternoon Caroline waspacking up to go home. It was her half day and she would be spending the weekend with her family in London. She had not seen her parents for a long time and she did not want see them now. The only member of her family she got on with was her sister Charity, Caroline's parents had always been against the idea of her interest in art and her marriage to Terry. Caroline piled some clothes and her marking into the car and then began her long drive.
Liza Rosette- this will be continued later!! By the way Fudge sounds outrageous behaving like that to Gwen!
- Wednesday, March 17th 2004 - 12:24:13 PM

Don't apologise Lee, we love long chapters! Glad to see Gwen put Fudge in his place, he is such a pompous idiot!
Alison
- Wednesday, March 17th 2004 - 11:19:13 AM

Snape took advantage of Fudge’s near hypnotic infatuation with Gwenevere’s Gringotts watch and used the moments to concoct a plausible answer. He and Gwenevere locked eyes intently. Professor Dumbledore smiled to himself and watched their cerebral interaction with high pleasure as if it were a close jousting match or Quidditch game. Snape spoke in measured contemptuous tones as thoughts of choking Fudge until he turned the color of his hat danced along the edges of his mind.

“I learned that McClane failed to report to his morning classes and I decided to investigate. He didn’t answer his door so I let myself in and subsequently found him in the bedroom. I realized that he’d been stabbed so I called the Headmaster immediately.” Snape stated.

“Oh I see. Any idea as to who could have done such a thing?” said Fudge absently and continuing to stare at Gwenevere who was still sharply focused on Snape.

“No.” Came Snape’s answer quickly as he rolled his eyes.

“You and Professor McClane don’t exactly get along, as I recall, do you?” Fudge asked as he turned his attention to Snape at last.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Said Snape apathetically.

“It could have quite a lot to do with things. I would like a full account of your whereabouts between, say, mid- day and when you so conveniently found McClane if you don’t mind.” Said Fudge, taking out parchment and quill in an exaggerated manner designed to intimidate.

“I’ve been teaching potions classes all day.” Snape said with an indifferent sigh.

“What have you been doing since your last daytime class then?” Fudge asked suspiciously. He was sure the murderer was sitting at the table across from him. Snape felt the temperature in the room begin to rise and searched his mind for an alternative to the truth. Professor Dumbledore showed no visible reaction to the question and was looking forward to Snape’s answer knowing that he could not possibly tell Fudge the truth: that he had been involved in negotiations for 'The Order' at the exact time that McClane was stabbed.

“He was with me.” Gwenevere stated casually. All eyes turned to her simultaneously. Snape breathed a silent sigh of relief and studied Gwenevere closely.

“With you? Doctor Collins?” Asked Fudge with curiously skeptical interest.

“Yes, that’s correct.” Gwenevere said flatly, looking Fudge in the eyes. Fudge was suddenly unsettled and his blood pressure rose like the tide, causing his nose to turn red.

“Er…in what capacity did you find yourself er…in the company of someone like Professor Snape?” He asked with a forced smile that oddly distorted his features. His eyes twitched in tiny spasms.

“I don’t see where that is relevant to this matter. The point is-- he was in fact with me ever since the end of his last Potions Lab.” She stated bluntly. Fudge quickly calculated another angle, as he knew too well from past experience how fruitless an endeavor it was to argue with the good Doctor.

“Where did you take tea Professor Snape?” He said with smug finality. He had him now and poised his poison pen over the parchment in bloodthirsty anticipation. Gwenevere regarded Fudge with long-established authority.

“Mister Fudge. Are you hard of hearing?” He took tea with me in my quarters.” She insisted, growing tired of his faulty conjecture. Fudge looked from Collins to Snape and then back to Collins.

“Forgive me Doctor Collins, however, I find that difficult to believe.” He smirked. A large blot on black ink audibly landed on the page before him, punctuating the ridicules remark. Gwenevere unleashed her ferocity.

“Mister Fudge, are you insinuating that I am not telling the truth?” she asked as her eyes turned as dark as cinders. Fudge became flustered and looked away. Snape watched Gwenevere intently; she was truly a master of manipulation when the stakes were high. He was in awe of her skills.

“Well…er…what about after tea then.” He stammered. Gwenevere’s focus seared into Fudge like a hot poker. “We’ve been together since tea.” She said in such icy tones that Fudge decided to take refuge in Snape’s comparatively cozy demeanor. Her eyes pelted him like daggers.

“I see. Severus, how did you learn that Professor McClane failed to teach his classes today?” He smiled as if trying to secure an ally. Snape remained expressionless.

“I passed his classroom earlier in the day and found the students running amuck. I thought nothing of it at first, it being McClane’s class, but as time passed I thought better of it so when I found the time, went searching for him out of curiosity.” He said flatly. He tentatively turned back to Gwenevere who was actually scaring him now.

“Doctor Collins? Um...Is this true? Were you with Professor Snape when he found the body?” He spoke and quickly looked away. Professor Dumbledore raised his finger to secure Fudge’s attention.

“When he found Professor McClane, Cornelius.” He corrected softly. Fudge became impatient.

“Whatever. Why did you go with Professor Snape to find Professor McClane?” Said Fudge, who was determined to find a flaw in the alibi.

“Why wouldn’t I have? We were on our way to lecture and there was no reason not to go with.” She stated indignantly.

“I see. Very interesting.” He said. Gwenevere cocked her head to the side and narrowed her eyes malevolently towards him.

“Mister Fudge. If you have something to say then by all means let’s hear it otherwise I would advise you to keep your frivolous comments to yourself. We are all professionals here and it’s getting very late. We have told you all there is to tell as we obviously have nothing to hide, so if you have nothing to add which would shed light on this mater then might I suggest that we adjourn this meeting and you shall take your investigation elsewhere.” She said as she stood and prepared to leave the room. Fudge was stunned. Snape smirked. Dumbledore jumped to attention.

“Well said Professor Collins. I believe that concludes our meeting Cornelius. We’ll be in touch then.” Said Professor Dumbledore as he stood up to leave.

“But…but…” Sputtered Fudge. Snape stood and placed his fingers lightly on Gwenevere’s back as they prepared to exit.

“Goodnight Cornelius!” Said the Headmaster as he followed his subordinates to the dungeon. Snape turned and flicked his wand to turn out lights in the office and Fudge hurried out directly, grabbing his hat on the way.

“I’ll be back tomorrow Dumbledore. No need to show me out.” He huffed and then exited the dungeon without further protest.
lee , <Very long today, sorry.>
Here it is Sophie, lol. Alison, I think it will be more difficult to find the time as the weather breaks, but as I require the mental stimulation so I will find the time somehow. I stay up later in summer too. Laura, Fudge is a piece of work! Can you give some of your snow to Claire? She likes it. Claire, Snape is glad she did not keep quiet and has some major making up to do I think? , - Wednesday, March 17th 2004 - 08:58:26 AM

O that Fudge! Doesn't beat about the bush, does he?
Laura
There's about a foot of snow here :'(, - Tuesday, March 16th 2004 - 03:44:07 PM

Oh Lee, how do you find the time to write all this great stuff?? I am despairing of ever finishing my own story at the moment - real life keeps taking over!
Alison
- Tuesday, March 16th 2004 - 01:24:30 PM

Can't wait! :)
Sophie
UK - Tuesday, March 16th 2004 - 11:53:24 AM

Cornelius Fudge rudely pushed his way past Professor Dumbledore and placed his pudgy form directly in front of Snape’s desk. Gwenevere stiffened visibly and Snape looked up slowly and glared. The Headmaster politely glided over to the group and focused his attention towards Gwenevere. She smiled warmly at him.

“Professor Collins, I’m sure you’ve met Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic.” Professor Dumbledore said softly.

“Yes, Headmaster, we’ve met.” Said Gwenevere regretfully. She ignored Fudge. He took off his lime- green bowler hat and bowed low for her. Gwenevere rolled her eyes.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again Doctor Collins and under such curious circumstances too. Though I wouldn’t have expected to find you here at Hogwarts.” Said Fudge.

The words smacked of inappropriate intimacy, which no doubt stemmed from an overactive imagination and wishful thinking. His eyes turned from heavy and flirtatious to beaded and piercing as he turned to Snape.

Professor Snape.” He said with a slight nod. Snape gave bored indifference in return.

“I hope this doesn’t take too long Fudge, I have important matters to attend to.” He stated. Fudge bristled.

“It will take as long as is deemed necessary.” Fudge warned. Professor Dumbledore cleared his voice and addressed Snape.

“Might I suggest that we adjourn to your office Severus where we will be more comfortable?”

“Certainly Headmaster. This way.” Said Snape quietly as he continued to stare at Fudge.

Gwenevere moved closer to Snape and stood towering over Fudge. Snape reluctantly dislodged his stance and pried his menacing eyes from Fudge. He placed his hand on the small of Gwenevere’s back and led the way to his office. Gwenevere walked stiffly and wished that she and Severus could have communicated before the meeting. He lighted lamps and candles, and cleared the round table for the inquisition. Professor Dumbledore indicated to Fudge that he would follow him into Snape’s office and the two men filed in. Snape held Gwenevere’s chair for her and the three wizards took their places at the table.

“Cornelius--” Said Professor Dumbledore. Fudge interrupted him for the sake of bravado.

“I think we can dispense with the pleasantries, Dumbledore. There has been an act of violence committed at Hogwarts and I assure you that swift punishment will go to the ones responsible. Professor Snape you found the body correct?” Fudge stated.

“Professor McClane is quite alive at this time as far as I know.” Said Professor Dumbledore calmly. Fudge waved his chubby hand in the air dismissing Professor Dumbledore.

“That’s just a formality Dumbledore. He’ll be stone dead tomorrow. We’ll begin with you, what can you tell us about this Snape?” He said, staring at Gwenevere. Snape crossed his arms and sat back in his chair.
lee
- Tuesday, March 16th 2004 - 10:38:57 AM

Hi Alison, yea he’d better come up with something good. Gotta love those Snape-ish mood swings! Hi Sophie, yea he was harsh with her. Especially when we find out what happens next. Hi Claire, I am here and working on the story for a little later and then I will do my paid job after. See I do have my priorities in order right? My, my, these FoF girls are getting into trouble in Wales I see. I need to catch up on my reading.
Thanks for the posts, and I’ll see you soon.
lee
- Tuesday, March 16th 2004 - 09:32:16 AM

Italics fixed. First time? Wow, that must be a record!
Suz (D.o.C.)

Still Mudd
- Monday, March 15th 2004 - 04:06:52 PM

Er, DoC. . .

Crikey! I've gone and italicised the guestbook. It's my first time, I swear!

::hanging head in shame::

I know, I know--of to the dungeon with me.
Mudd
- Monday, March 15th 2004 - 04:01:15 PM

The Beer and Baritone—slight flashback

Therese stood quietly by the man who had offered to buy her a drink, and considered him. He seemed vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t quite place him. She cocked her head slightly, squinting as she tried to fathom when their paths might have crossed. He had an amazing voice, he’d certainly proved that earlier at the service, which made it all the more irritating that her memory escaped her. “You seem terribly familiar, Bryn,” she finally offered.

The large man turned toward Therese, his movement slow yet purposeful. “I’m known a bit here,” he offered, “there are those who might say I’ve a distinctive voice.”

“Your singing today was beautiful,” she said very sincerely. “I’m not sure that ‘distinctive’ alone covers it. It was a privilege to listen.” She paused, looking at him again as he inclined his head graciously at her praise, then shook her head in frustration. “Since you don’t seem willing to tell me where it is I’ve seen you, why don’t you tell me a few things about our mutual friend while I keep wracking my brain?”

Bryn followed her glance, and raised a brow at her questioningly. “You see, your old friend over there—I believe you call him Arthur, though I’ve always known him as Mistral,” she indicated her co-worker, who sat silently at a small table with Cindie. Mistral appeared to sit back casually, but it was obvious to those who knew him well that his amber eyes missed nothing as he gazed amongst his friends, one finger trailing idly over a small black handbag.

Bryn nodded, now very wary indeed. “Yes?” he finally intoned.

“Well, it seems to me that you two must have known one another for quite some time, and I was just wondering—“

“Want to know what he was like in younger days, do you? It does seem to me that the pretty brunette at the table with him has the prior claim—if it’s not poor sport for me to mention.”

“Ah, no,” Therese said with a slight chuckle. “That’s not the reason I ask, truly.” She pointed to Dev over in the corner, still steadfastly ensconced in his newfound circle of friends, a pint of Guinness firmly in hand as he used it to mark time to the current song they were all raucously singing. “The large Irish bloke in the middle is mine, I’m currently chagrined to say, and the pretty brunette is a dear friend. I’m sure that if she were aware that I had you in my snare, she’d be quite put out if I missed the opportunity to unabashedly pump you for information.”

Bryn leant over slightly, using his far greater height to hover over Therese, “Asking me to fess up to some of the mischief he was up to as a lad, that sort of thing?”

”Yes, exactly!” Therese agreed enthusiastically, then quickly quashed her obvious enthusiasm as Bryn pursed his lips, blue eyes flashing icily. “Or perhaps not?” she offered.

“He’s a private one, Arthur is,” Bryn finally responded, crossing his arms tightly over his chest, and making him seem even more imposing. “What do you wish to know?”

Therese turned to the publican, who, given the status of his current guests, was manning the taps himself this evening, and quickly provided the fresh drinks that she requested. Taking a long sip of her cider, she passed Bryn the fresh pint of stout she’d ordered for him. After she’d swallowed, she looked up to see the same intense, azure gaze still firmly upon her. “I’d simply like to know what he was like, before he became this—“ she struggled for the correct word, obviously trying to find some phrase that encompassed all that was Mistral. She failed miserably. “Before he became—“ she waved her hands toward the man, “well, like he is now. Like some force of nature, or someone to be reckoned with, or whatever favorite cliché you’d like to stamp him with.”

Bryn considered her question for long moments, and by the slight smile that crossed his features, Therese could almost witness him mentally striding back through the years. “What was Arthur like?” he asked, repeating her question. “Before his success, you mean?” He shook his head slightly, then looked toward his friend for long moments before turning back to her once again. “He always did have an amazing way about him, since ever I’ve known him. Many is the time we’d perform somewhere, and then after, well, here I was the lead, and the girls would stream straight by me, and cluster around that Roman nosed stick of a man.”

Therese almost choked on her cider at Bryn’s description, and looked up at him quickly. “Changed a bit, has he?”

“Oh that he has. He learned his appeal when he found the stage. There was a time when I thought he’d stay here, rather than leave his mum, but when his acting was so well received there was no keeping him here. If Iona couldn’t do that, then none of us could.”

“Iona?” Therese questioned, hardly daring to disturb the man, lest he stop.

“Yes, Iona—and that’s a story you’ll not hear from me. Suffice it to say that Iona was the first to teach him of his appeal. My Lesley introduced them, and always felt a bit sorry for having done so.”

“You have got to tell me more!” Therese protested.

“Not a word of it,” Bryn responded.

Bryn was rescued from further badgering by the appearance of Dev, who had finally begun to take note of the large, handsome man who had been chatting away with his lady. pints and drinking songs notwithstanding, he’d begun to think it time to join her when someone made the request that he sing “Danny Boy.” When he’d looked up to see her enraptured expression toward the bloke who towered over her, he’d been certain. Several long strides brought Eamon to Therese's side, and laying a possessive arm around her waist, Dev extended his hand. “I’m Eamon Devalera,” he introduced himself, "better known by most as Dev."

"Pleased to meet you, Dev, I'm Bryn Terfel."

The attention of both men was abruptly jarred from one another as a spluttering gasp of surprise escaped Therese as mention of Bryn's last name made the connection for her, “You’re Bryn Terfel,” she gasped, looking at the man before her in an entirely new light. “Y-you’re Figaro!”

Therese
thanks Cinide--definitely a rough weekend. - Monday, March 15th 2004 - 03:50:28 PM

Lee where are you?
claire , <prague@iwon.com>
- Monday, March 15th 2004 - 02:00:15 PM

Phil Allen & Barbara Vanders

And so it went. While the pub sang and shouted around her, Barbara Vanders proceeded to get quietly, tidily, methodically, systematically, efficiently, surreptiously and quite thoroughly drunk. It was a outlet she'd never given herself before. Besides, she thought, rebellious and muzzy, if Phil can do it, I can do it.
Barbara the Wallpaper-er
Finally a weekend free!
- Saturday, March 13th 2004 - 10:41:51 PM

The Beer and Baritone:

“I find I’m rather counting on that.”

After those words Cindie’s found that her heart had lodged itself firmly in her throat. Mistral said nothing further for a time, his eyelids half closed as he scanned the room without seeming to do so. Cindie took a swallow from her half pint trying to wash her anatomy more or less to its proper position. She said at last, “Does this mean that you finally see you have no guilt in the affairs of your parents?”

Mistral’s reply was calm. “Oh, I’m guilty all right. There is no doubt on that score.”

“Here I thought that the ‘handbag as accessory’ defense would be sufficient.” Cindie strove for a light tone but was determined. “It seems I will need to resort to more extreme measures.

“Really, my dear, I believe that is more inducement than discountenance.” Mistral replied blandly. “I should very much like to see your …extreme measures.”

“But you won’t be able to see anything of me, for I shall be enjoying the pleasures of the City while you languish behind bars.”

“I shan’t languish. You have my solemn word.”

“Now I think on it – this will be a case of life imitates art. Perhaps you will be able to continue to work after your arrest. Do you think the gaol would allow filming?” Cindie saw a muscle work in Mistral’s jaw. “Of course that won’t be anything like the nice cage you have on the set, but one must make sacrifices for one’s art.”

“Must one?” His eyes glittered with more than amusement, “I rather thought such sacrifices were made for love.”

What Cindie wanted to suggest was along the lines that the party for whom such sacrifices were made ought to be, one, appreciative, and two, alive. If he’d kept silent for his mother’s sake why couldn’t he for his own, or for hers? Instead she did an end run back around to her main point. “Mistral. You did nothing wrong. How could they have prosecuted an eighty something year old dying woman for a murder they never knew occurred over thirty years ago?” She was getting exasperated and tried not to let it show. “And you were, what, eight at the time?” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Will you yield to reason?”

At some point she had picked up her glass and as she finished speaking she set it down with a thud. There was a correspondingly inconvenient lull in the other activities of the pub as well. No one was singing at that moment, no darts were hitting home, and no snooker balls were thunking against each other or into their pockets. She had the uncomfortable feeling that everyone in the pub had just heard her. Trying to look nonchalant she picked up her glass to take a sip only to find it empty. Mistral waited several beats until the natural rhythm of the pub resumed and then shifted to lean towards her. He bent so that his head was close to hers and she found herself shifting so that she could feel his breath on her neck when he spoke. “No, I will not yield to reason.” When she might have protested, his tone and the way he seemed to tower even closer kept her silent. “I will yield only to you.”

Cindie looked up seeing again that expression that spoke of complete accord. “When?” She asked baldly.

Mistral threw back his head and laughed. It wasn’t much of a laugh as these things went. More of a bark of amusement but he certainly expressed it before repositioning himself in the plain wooden chair in which he sat. “Whenever you like.”

Mistral could see that Cindie’s mind was reeling with possibilities. It had been whirlwind few days. The death of his mother didn’t so much close a chapter of his life as empty the pages that lay now before him. He had taken up the first of the ink strokes when he had chosen to stop at the police station after making the funeral arrangements rather than going straight back to the house. But he was determined that these coming pages could be as pure white as he could make them. He could not erase his past but he could break from it.

Part of him wondered if it was all too trite. The old saying of the reformed rake making the best husband as applied to him seemed a joke. Yet he found that his own reformation was quite real if not so melodramatic. He thought that Cindie probably understood more than she let show; he had to have this truly behind him in every sense possible. Mistral watched her now as she paused to consider what he had said. He half wondered if she would drag him bodily out of the pub this minute. She was clearly considering the options he had laid open before her and made no pretence of misunderstanding. There was no false coyness. At last she looked at him squarely in the eye. “When we’re back in town. When all this is over and you are free to go and we can go out and have time together and not worry about saying goodnight.” Her words came out in a rush and the pink tinge in her cheeks intoxicated him much more that the drink he’d been nursing.

“So.” He said gravely. “You are going to wait for me.”

“Hah!” She met his provocation. “Yes, I shall wait for the few hours it will take for them to have you make and sign your formal statement.”

“Then,” he gave her that quiet smile that melted her heart, “I shall meet my fate bravely, knowing I have a good woman on the outside.”

“You will forgive me if I don’t run out and start buying up cigarettes to smuggle in to you.”

“That’s all right, my dear. I’ll be holding out for the cake.”

“That will be for the warden so that he’ll turn a blind eye when I bring in the acetylene torch.”

“Good thinking.”

Cindie
Homages to my cohorts in crime and godspeed to Therese on her journeys this weekend.
- Saturday, March 13th 2004 - 08:48:05 PM

Oh what a beautiful morrrrrrniiiiiiinng (for once!!!!!) Just to say hi everyone plus have a nice day! Next chapter will be fixed soon.
Liza Rosette
- Saturday, March 13th 2004 - 07:49:36 AM

aww, i feel sorry for Gwyn, hes being very harsh with her, something suspicious is going on :)
Sophie
UK - Friday, March 12th 2004 - 03:57:36 PM

Oh, I love it when Snape is in a foul mood and stalks around his dungeon swishing his robes! Perhaps he'll give us detention? If we're lucky! I notice there's another lovely cliffhanger just for Claire's and my benefit (no comment!) Hope Sev has come up with a good cover story. Have a lovely weekend everyone!
Alison
- Friday, March 12th 2004 - 02:47:24 PM

A Truly Eventful Year