Sprawling is gooooood. And that evening wear slightly awry... Ygm.
Cindie
- Saturday, May 31, 2003 at 08:53:47 (PDT)

At five o’clock the next morning, Gwenevere arrived at the track, which circled the Quidditch field. She was wearing a black sports top,Black Lycra Spandex tights stopping at the knee and white Ryka cross-trainers. She made sure to clear the early morning muggle attire with Professor Dumbledore at their last meeting. After warming up a bit more, she completed her run and was back on the second floor by ten of six. Shortly afterward, Dobby knocked on her door.

“Good morning Professor Collins” Dobby said.
“!Buenos dias, senor! !Mui bien!” She answered, as he handed her the tray.
“!Hasta manana! !Adios! She said, “That’s see you tomorrow and good bye.”
“!Adios!” Dobby repeated as he waved her goodbye.

Gwenevere noticed that there were two cups and saucers and a small sugar bowl on the tray, as she heard another knock on the door. That must be Dobby again she thought as she went for the door.
“Oh, Severus! I wasn’t expecting you.” She said with a warm smile. “Do come in, tea’s just arrived.”

Snape’s eyes widened conspicuously at the sight of the spandex and bare flat stomach beneath the open jacket she was wearing as he stepped through the door.
“I was in the corridor and saw the house elf just leaving and thought I would check and make sure you were alright after last night.” He explained, trying unsuccessfully to extricate his acute attention to her superb anatomy. She assisted him by zipping her jacket half way.
“I am fine, thanks to you…you will stay and have a quick cup of tea with me won’t you? Dobby has already planned for it! I wonder how he does that?"
“It’s his job” Snape said with mock sarcasm.
Gwenevere got the impression that Severus’s mind was preoccupied, he seemed edgy and irritable. They sat down at the round table near the living room and sipped tea, Gwenevere politely nibbled on dry wheat toast. Snape was still having mixed thoughts concerning his feelings toward Gwenevere. He wondered if she was feeling… anything.

After Professor Snape left, Gwenevere drew a bath and settled in for a warm, relaxing soak. She closed her eyes and replayed the memory of being in Severus’s arms last night, and his attentiveness toward her. She questioned if it was really a good idea, developing such affectionate feelings for Severus. She came to Hogwarts to teach finance and to study potions, not get a crush on the Potions Master. The strong attraction toward someone she had just met was so completely contrary to her typical personality. She recalled the first time they met, the feeling of euphoria followed by the searing headache and temporary blindness.
She took a deep relaxing breath, eyes closed when…oh no, not again…
Lee <idon'tspeakspanishsosorryifitsnotright.foo>
MA is obviously a woman of discriminating tastes, Chris, nice to meet you. Always trust animals(ha) DoC, Thanks for the fix...again.(I may need to disallow myself the use of italics.), - Saturday, May 31, 2003 at 05:45:37 (PDT)

At Mary Anne’s flat-after the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad (homage) Museum Affair:

“Christopher, would you like to come in for a few minutes? Maybe have some coffee?”

Brandon readily assents, and not just because Mary Anne makes good coffee. Driving back to the flat, he could feel her eyes on him whenever she thought he did not notice. A good thing she didn’t see how much champagne . . . But had it truly affected him? Brandon detects no slowing of his reflexes, and never had the Aston-Martin seemed to respond so smoothly-it had hardly been like driving at all, more like tracing a thought-path here to this door, with the car gliding on the power of his will alone. That, however, was the very sensation that had cautioned Brandon to drive sensibly-very sensibly, indeed, slowly and carefully. From observation and from bitter though infrequent experience, he knows that danger of mild intoxication: the conviction of I am invincible. Fortunate the man who has friends who will get him discreetly under cover before he passes on to I am bulletproof.

What he is, is keenly sensually aware of all that is passing. The cool night air-turning cold, in fact; hot coffee will be delicious, and he smiles briefly in anticipation. A contrast, as he assists Mary Anne on the covered staircase leading to her private entrance: one of his hands in the middle of her back, the warmth of her body through her velvet wrap; his other hand on the chill of the wrought-iron stair rail. Her scent of jasmine, tuberose and . . . something else. She, herself. The night noises about them, the faint ring of their footsteps, her key in the lock, wind in the leaves . . .

The flood of warm light, as they enter.

The brief silence of their individual occupations: Brandon removing his coat and hanging it on the hall tree by the door. Mary Anne stepping out of her sandals, wriggling her toes into the deep-pile carpet with a little sigh of relief, then shrugging out of her velvet wrap and draping it across one corner of the overstuffed sofa.

“It won’t take a minute,” she promises, before vanishing down the hallway into the kitchen.

Brandon meditates following her. It will take considerably more than a minute, the way Mary Anne makes coffee, and the kitchen is a pleasant enough place in itself, bathed in the warm glow of terra cotta tiles and decorative copper pots and utensils. Instead, Brandon takes a seat on the sofa, allowing himself a few moments’ shameless luxury of leaning back and positively sprawling into the cushions. Sprawling! If the viewers could see him now, the dignified and correct Colonel Brandon, eveningwear slightly awry . . .

Brandon straightens up a bit, smiling to himself as he looks about the flat. That is the way of thing, here; Mary Anne’s decorating style practically demands that one relax. Not for her the stark or utilitarian or high-tech; her flat, as he has seen it across the years, is a work in progress. Always some new ornament to be carefully chosen; always some detail to be considered. But comfort, it would seem, is the absolute good. Soft light. Caressing fabrics. Her colours, the blue-greens and roses and violets. The ebony gleam of the piano in one corner, muted by the draped shawl in fringed silk. And on every visit, or so it seems to him, some innovation to be discovered and appreciated; some spark of brass or ceramic or polished wood.

There, the scent of coffee beans and the hum of the grinder. Brandon smiles again, overcome by a wave of tenderness. She is trying to keep me safe. I am not drunk, my dearest Mary Anne, but if it will make you happy I will drink the coffee-though if I were drunk, it would not help. I would then simply be wide awake and still drunk. But I am not. Not drunk, that is. But yes, coffee will be served to him in the grand style. Freshly ground, with decanted amaretto cream, most likely. Perhaps some sort of exotic vanilla sugar? ”Leave a kiss within the cup . . .”

Brandon moves to the edge of the sofa with some view of clearing a space on the coffee table-and stops. The shallow boxes he had been about to lift off of the table are filled with photographs, and an album lies open before him. Curious, Brandon draws the album nearer to look at the pictures, and is still looking at them, absorbed, when Mary Anne returns with the coffee . . .

MA--welcome back, Chris. Oooo, shivery! And homage to Judith Viorst: Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.
Yes, from time to time, even Brandon the Dignified has been known to sprawl. Cindie, do you like that as much as him stretching? ;-), - Friday, May 30, 2003 at 20:25:54 (PDT)

Chris smiled at the little black dog as he ran around the park yet again, playing what appeared to be a combination of chase and retrieve, as two of the dogs in front of him had balls in their mouths.

They'd had a great afternoon in the park, just mooching about. Chris had brought a picnic and they'd sat by the lake for a while, enjoying the chicken sandwiches she'd made. Ollie had had a small bite of the chicken, unspiced, in his own little container, as well as his own waterbowl.

Ollie had spent hours playing with his new friends, and the two of them had gone for a couple of nice strolls through the foresty bit on their own as well. In other words, it had been a perfect day.

"C'mon Ollie," Chris called, shaking his lead slightly. "Time to head home for some dinner!"

She laughed as he stopped almost mid-stride and turned to come towards her. As she attached the lead to his collar, she gave him a small doggie-treat, which the little black poodle took with the greatest of care.

Having said their goodbyes, the pair walked leisurely back to her apartment block. Chris stopped briefly to watch the beginnings of the sunset, with the sky lighting up in pinks and oranges, the occasional cloud simply making it all the more beautiful.

As she stood there, Chris felt a chill, and shivered slightly. Laughing at herself, she turned to continue walking home, and noticed that Ollie was standing at high alert, right in front of her legs, staring off into some bushes.

"C'mon Ollie, let's go home," Chris said, a little unnerved by the little dog's persistent staring. Ollie took one step forward, but then froze again, and started growling, deep in his throat.

"Okay Ollie, enough is enough," Chris said firmly, though internally she was shaking. "C'mon, home we go!"

With a last, deep rumble, Ollie turned, and trotted in front of her as if nothing had happened, and they had soon covered the last few yards to the door.

As they went inside, Ollie turned round once more to stare at the bush, before the door was shut.

Chris
Yep, it's me!, - Friday, May 30, 2003 at 09:26:00 (PDT)

Italics fixed.
Have you been taking lessons from Dobie?
D.o.C.

Oh I am so sorry. I can not believe I italicized the book again. please forgive me. I am hitting my forehead with a book for punishment.
Lee
- Friday, May 30, 2003 at 07:37:11 (PDT)

“Well, I don’t mean to pry, but why didn’t you put the anti-ghost spell on the perimeter?” He said, immediately wishing he hadn’t, he was prying.
“I cannot.” She said quietly.
“That is why I needed to hire a personal house elf, I can’t light the fireplace, I can’t make tea, and my wand is useless to me. Mister Olivander would be heart broken if he knew.”
“You are a witch aren’t you?” He asked.
He was so hoping she would say yes…

“Yes, but when my father was murdered years ago, I somehow suppressed all except one of my magical powers and can no longer access them properly. Sometimes they do appear when I’m not expecting them generally with disastrous results.”

“How do you light the flame under the cauldron?” He asked out of curiosity.
“Matches.” She said.
“Matches?” Snape narrowed his eyes. He was getting very curious now; he was trying to empathize with her.
“They are what muggles use to create a flame, but they are very small and cannot light a fireplace here.”
“Do you know muggles then?”
“Yes. My Grandparents are muggles.”
“Grandparents?”
“On my mother’s side.”
“Oh, Right.”
“Do you honestly have a problem with muggles?” She was searching him intently for his answer.

Snape contemplated the question for a time before answering. As head of Slytherin house, it was an unwritten mantra that women and …mixed bloods were not quite as accepted as pureblooded wizards, especially in Potions work; that was unthinkable, but the familiar and comfortable existence of his chauvinism seemed to have recently abandoned him forcing him to seriously rethink these long time ingrained prejudices. Gwenevere waited patiently for his reply, she trusted he would answer honestly.

“I think not, Gwenevere.” He replied, loosing himself just a bit in her liquid sapphire-blue eyes.

He was compelled to kiss her just then, she was so vulnerable in her disheveled state and in her life surrounded by magic without magic of her own. He was moved and overwhelmed by her sincerity in completely reveling her susceptibility to him. He felt fiercely protective of her just now, like her dour guardian.

Her vulnerability was why he longed to hold her again and kiss her and precisely the reason he did not.
“It’s very late Gwenevere, no doubt you need to get some rest. Peeves won’t be back. I cursed him into last week and it takes a long time for them to sort out the anti-clockwise effect of it all.”
Snape knew he must leave now before …something unplanned happened.
“I sincerely Thank you Severus.” She said, wishing he had chosen to stay longer and quietly shutting the door only after she watched him walk fifteen steps to his own door, ten Snape steps.
lee
Thank you Claudia, and Suzanne, for caring about everyone who loves this web site, and sharing your valuable time. This site should win an award, if it hasn't already., - Friday, May 30, 2003 at 07:32:17 (PDT)

Hi Chandra,

I'm the erstwhile writer for Alexander Dane. He's currently involved in 2 storylines that I'm working on at the moment - first in an on-set story line where he's an Egyptologist currently in deep doo-doo in a cave somewhere with several people missing in his party. He's also involved in an off-set story-line as well. I'm planning to return back shortly (because real life really stinks sometimes), and I think that it would get confusing to those who are following his stories. If you have any questions, you may contact me at fiebransatprodigydotnet. Thank you.

Sandy
- Friday, May 30, 2003 at 04:13:42 (PDT)

I have no self control, and sadly, cannot restrict my wenching nature to one evening a month! I will retreat, taking my commentary and my Lhasa Apso - Dogberry, along for company, to the Downtime Bar with all the other lowlifes, slam a few back and get silly - Dogberry hates strange men - He'll recline on the bar, mostly contented but if a strange man approaches, he will sit up and growl very low and slow, with menace - he's about 10 inches tall - "It's O.K. Dogberry-Dogberto, this one's O.K." I'll pet him reassuringly, reluctantly and with some drama, Dogberry will resume his recline on the bar, showing off his magnificent ankle length coat and black banded topknot, flipping his plume-like tail - glaring occasionally in the stranger's direction, his eyes speaking volumes - "Sheee's miinnne"! On the FOF note, however, I have questions. Can I have Alexander Dane to write about? I envision him as the tortured actor outside of his dreaded TV show - He meets me sans his rubber head. May I begin on this thread without treading on toes? Also, I have an 18 page fanfic involving Snape and another Hogwarts female teacher, I've been working on it a couple of months - I can't post it, It's gonna make it look as if Snapey is a big two-timer! I would love to begin the Alexander Dane thing if I can.
chandra
A wench a day....., - Friday, May 30, 2003 at 03:48:45 (PDT)

ACC--I often think you are quite smart and often funny, but if you would take the time to READ the posts prior to yours, you might SEE Suzanne's name RIGHT THERE suggesting a better place for the Wenches. It makes me think, now, that you have your mind all made up about things, you are rigid, and the ONLY way is YOUR way. Dang. READ, UNDERSTAND and relax. Dagnabit, now I'm doing that capitalization thing.
Dee
- Thursday, May 29, 2003 at 23:19:44 (PDT)

I've created a new up-to-date, and involving "clouds", Downtime Bar. I couldn't remember how to edit the old one, as its been so long since I had to change it.

I will update all the links on the downtime page. Should I transfer over all the old posts from the board?

If you have any suggestions for prettying it up, etc, please let me know and I'll accommodate.
Claudia <claudiaatparadisedotnetdotnz>
- Thursday, May 29, 2003 at 18:55:00 (PDT)

Oh, I am so happy! You can make clouds! Great!
Lee
- Thursday, May 29, 2003 at 18:30:17 (PDT)

I can always move Downtime, and make it look just like FOF, if that helps?
Claudia
- Thursday, May 29, 2003 at 18:01:44 (PDT)

Suzanne, Claudia--it looks like a good spot. I will alert the other Wenches. You know, just for your info, part of the problem is that the GB and FoF are set up sooooo nicely!!! It's easy to maneuver around, easy to post, easy to read, such pretty clouds, and true AR fans!! Ah well!
Dee
- Thursday, May 29, 2003 at 17:53:36 (PDT)

The Downtime Bar, how perfect (why didn't I think of that?)! That's a wonderful idea, thanks Claudia! I will gather the details and post them above.

Suzanne
We'll get this worked out hopefully to everyone's satisfaction., - Thursday, May 29, 2003 at 17:21:55 (PDT)

Hi All, comment from my perspective, is I'm finding it really difficult to find the stories, find where I'm up to, and then write some more. Its been a bit off-putting in the creative sense.

Not chasing you away, the parties can be fun if you're involved. There is also the the Downtime Bar available for virtual parties. We've used it in the past when FOF has been unavailable, and its somewhere where we could get silly, or more raunchy if we wanted to. We all play there from time to time.

At the moment, with my very limited online time, I'm finding it hard to continue my story in the current environment.
Claudia <claudiaatparadisedotnetdotnz>
- Thursday, May 29, 2003 at 16:17:12 (PDT)

Ah… sounds like both sides actually want about the same things for FoF. How festinating. I wonder if the wenches would agree to keep their wenching restricted to a once per month date and time span as imposed by web Mistress Suzanne. For example only the first Saturday night in each month form five o’clock PDT to eleven o’clock PDT. Would the writers agree to a compromise of once month excess scrolling in order to be fair and just to the wenches who only want to be loved for whom they are and whom they are with at the time. Characters dusted off with Hans’s lint brush when properly satisfied with food, drink, and wench. All trolls must be completely ignored by all except the DoC’s and other related law enforcement agencies for removal and prosecution purposes. Works for me. Ladies…?
The MEDIATOR (HER)
- Thursday, May 29, 2003 at 09:59:25 (PDT)

Yes, A Happier Wench speaks the truth. We mean no harm! We love to read the fanfic, especially the lemony parts. We have vivid imaginations and very fine senses of humor and we love to make people laugh when we party, which is why we like to do it here, on the very, very rare occasions when we gather. Our only intention is to spread our merry AR-inspired creativity to all. Is that so wrong?
A girl with sense & sensibility
All trolls will be shot on sight., - Thursday, May 29, 2003 at 09:38:56 (PDT)

A perfect FoF to me would be mostly fanfic and comments thereon, plus perhaps a monthly, or less frequent virtual party for the lively, but forsaken and cast-out Wenches (who have good and pure hearts) and love the GB and the FoF.
A Happier Wench <*sniff,sniff*>
- Thursday, May 29, 2003 at 09:31:41 (PDT)

Sad wench, come, there, there...get under my wing and tell us your idea of a perfect FoF guest book. We want to understand you too.
Don't be sad poor wench
- Thursday, May 29, 2003 at 08:45:34 (PDT)

I think you are quite mistaken about the Wenches. We really haven't been here since May 10??? The trolls have absolutely nothing to do with us, and our behavior has not spurred them on (as, I said, we haven't been around that much)! Perhaps they have gotten all excited by the FoF stories??? Harrrmmmph!!!
A Sad Wench
- Thursday, May 29, 2003 at 08:38:19 (PDT)

I am glad you claritied, thank you. I agree with that opinion. In a perfect world, after ringing up FoF, you would see mostly the various stories written consistenty so as not to forget what was happening the last time you read them, and maybe some comments about the current story lines and occasional O/T posts that did not run forever. Correct?
starting to understand better
- Thursday, May 29, 2003 at 08:31:23 (PDT)

Hi!

Thanks for the question, sorry if I wasn't clear. Off-topic posts happen in all situations, and we're all "guilty" of them on and off. What gets annoying and difficult to deal with is when a whole slew of off-topic posts are created, in a sense, trying to become a whole separate topic.

I guess what I'm trying to say is, that off-topic posts should really be the exception rather than the rule :o)

I'm glad you asked, because I would hate for anyone to feel that they shouldn't post at all. All I'm trying to say is, let's have some balance here!

Chris
- Thursday, May 29, 2003 at 08:20:50 (PDT)

Hi Chris, I would like you to clairify your statement "but their posts aren't necessarily appropriate for this place." Are you referring to all non-story postings or all postings from non-listed FoF writers. Do you think only listed FoF writers should be allowed to have a virtual party in the story lines? Maybe you are referring to all postings that are entirely O/T like the insane postings. Insane is not a wench, but a troll. When you feel strongly enough to write an opinion, thats good. but do realize they can easily be misinterpreted by readers who have limited information in front of them. ACC's postings were taken by many as "since I don't think your brand of humor is funny - stop posting!" I would dread to think that your comments are being completly misunderstood, which is very possible.
search for understanding.
- Thursday, May 29, 2003 at 08:00:19 (PDT)

Okay, now as a somewhat MIA writer for our poor Hamlet, I've been around this forum for a few years now. And, although I've kept my tongue up till now, I'm finding it more and more difficult to even keep up with the storylines on here.

The idea, I believe, behind this particular, privately hosted board, is that we each have characters (one or more) and we write about them. We acknowledge and respect other peoples' "ownership" of their characters, and don't use them without permission. And while we do have parties, they are generally within that context. This is how it was set up by Suzanne and the original members, and how those of us who have joined in since have attempted to keep it.

While not all of us now reside within the original Realm, the basic idea is still adhered to.

This is why I'm not certain that this is an appropriate forum for the wenching that has descended on this board. And while the wenches may not be responsible for all the rubbish that has arrived, I'm afraid that their presence seems to have perpetuated it.

I'm positive that there are other, more suitable forums for this particular form of Rickman admiration, that won't waste Suzanne's bandwidth and make the stories that are the heart of this board so difficult to follow.

I don't have a problem with the wenches themselves, but their posts aren't necessarily appropriate for this place. I'm not necessarily trying to provoke an argument, but felt I had to have my say, as so many of them do.

Suzanne, if in the general scheme of things, you don't find this post appropriate, please do feel free to remove it. But if you do, please email me so we can discuss the reasonings.
Chris <If you want it, please ask, but I seem to be getting more spam than usual at the moment>
Not quite sure I'm going about this the right way, but have to say something, - Thursday, May 29, 2003 at 06:07:16 (PDT)

I think FoF is my life now. Actually, if it EVER stoppes raining, I will need to hop upon the tractor for a marathon of mowing and the hay cutting is a week overdue, however the posting shall not suffer!
Lee <rainraingoawaycomeagainanotherday>
- Thursday, May 29, 2003 at 05:04:51 (PDT)

Yes ....Lee hurry up... do not leave me waiting (OK forget you have a life and post!)
Janine
- Thursday, May 29, 2003 at 04:17:14 (PDT)

The already malevolent Professor Snape leapt up form his desk and grabbed his wand, then ran out toward Gwenevere’s. He wasn’t sure if he heard anything or not, but he had no choice at this point, he was overwhelmingly compelled to go to her. He got to the door and heard the noise within. “Peeves” he thought.

“Patefacio!” He said, pointing his wand at the door. The door burst open with an alarming force and Snape ran in. A large box of books was flying toward Gwenevere as Snape commanded “Adlero” while pointing his wand at the box it stopped in mid air and slowly settled to the floor like a day old birthday party balloon. Snape then pointed the wand at Peeves.

“Lemures abigoere egiactum hesternus!”
With an enormous explosion of red light Peeves vanished.

“Inlumino” Snape commanded, and the lamps suddenly went on, flooding the room with soft calming light.

“Gwenevere, Are you alright?”

He went to her and helped her step away from where she stayed cornered. She was shaking badly and had a swelling on her wrist. He checked her over quickly for any signs of serious injury before pulling her close to him. He held her there until she was reassured. He noticed the unusual crimson glow enveloping the room, but attributed it to the banishment curse.

“It’s alright Gwenevere, he is gone now and he won’t be back.” He was calming her with his voice, settling her nerves as he spoke quietly in her ear. After organizing her thoughts, she realized that she was wearing next to nothing. She slowly pulled away from Severus, who noticed her embarrassment and handed her an antique white quilt that was nearby. “Reconcilio” He said and with a wave of his wand the rooms were back in place as before Peeves had gotten there.

He then led her to the sofa in the living room. He lighted her fireplace and with his wand produced a glass with two fingers of aged Napoleon brandy in it for her to sip. After some brandy she said in a quiet voice owing to her screaming at Peeves,

“Thank you, I don’t know what would have happened if you had not come in.”

Snape went over and sat next to her. He gently pried her hand from the brandy glass and examined her wrist for broken bones.
“No broken bones, just a painful burse. Ice should help.”
He said, as he went for an ice pack. Boots cautiously stalked out of hiding to investigate the sound of familiar voices.
“What was that or who was that?” Gwenevere asked him.
She was extremely subdued after the adrenalin depletion and the brandy.

“That was peeves the resident poltergeist. He hasn’t been around here much lately but a new arrival must have been irresistible for him. Gwenevere, um…”

“Yes… Severus?” She looked up at him.
Lee
- Thursday, May 29, 2003 at 03:41:04 (PDT)

Yes, Magda I have already read the two stories you have written and anxiously await the ending to the second one. I also wanted to aplaud you on your writing its was nothing less then brilliant. Iam quite a fan of Alan Rickman although sadly I have only seen 3 of his movies but when I saw Robin Hood: Prince of theives I fell in love with Lord Nottingham infact I watch the movie everynight I never grow tired of it. I just wanted to say I really enjoyed your stories although they did instill in me quite alot of hatred for Robin of Locksley and Marian but Iam getting over it well sort of........I do hope you continue with the second story.. I will adjourn now for I wish not to take up any more valuable space.
Redwolf <timberwolf54@aol.com>
- Thursday, May 29, 2003 at 01:05:38 (PDT)

Troll deleted.... and deleted and deleted (please take a hint)
And yes, please ignore them and I or one of my Deputy D.o.C.s will catch them eventually.
N'Sayne, please e-mail me!
D.o.C.

Chandra, I would love a report on Mesmer! If we ignore the trolls, they will get bored go away.
Lee
- Wednesday, May 28, 2003 at 18:09:03 (PDT)

Chandra--watch Dogma again, and look for the "meaning." It is a satire on religious fanatacism, but not a put-down of belief. Post your comment on the GB--not here!! It will get more comments.
Metatron
- Wednesday, May 28, 2003 at 17:31:31 (PDT)

Please do not feed the trolls.
Diana
Back to the stories please!, - Wednesday, May 28, 2003 at 16:46:35 (PDT)

Emma, I am in some agreement here! I watched DOGMA the other evening, I'm certain I did not enjoy this movie in it's entirety, there were moments, however - Metatron was stellar, AR didn't use any profanity?!! most the other actor's lines were right out of the potty/gutter! Matt Damon was good, kind of tragic -- and I really liked Alanis Morrisette's handstand and subsiquent fall - it was so cute - Silent Bob doesn't use any bad words, he doesn't speak! (excellent facial expressions, dude) but he did write and direct this thing! but really, I rented it so it's not here anymore-- AR doesn't use foul language and I was so impressed! I'm wondering if he refused! - he's rumored to do such things -- Also I'm beginning a campaign of sorts, Malcolm McDowell for Mad Eye Moody, Goblet of Fire, Book 4 -- rumor currently is movie 4 AND 5!!
Chandra <chandrasoleil@hotmail.com>
I received Mesmer on DVD today!, - Wednesday, May 28, 2003 at 15:37:36 (PDT)

Cut! it's "TRROLLLLLLL! In The Dungeon!" (pass out dramatically)
another for you!
chandra
Director of Phys. Ed - Hogwarts Academy of Witchcraft and Wizardry, - Wednesday, May 28, 2003 at 15:22:44 (PDT)

N'Sayne, we do not appreciate or welcome such crass remarks/questions here or on the guestbook.
Emma
Would DoC please delete that before we have a rehash from a few days ago?, - Wednesday, May 28, 2003 at 15:19:21 (PDT)

Troll in the dungeon!
Lisa
Where's that can of troll-be-gone?, - Wednesday, May 28, 2003 at 14:33:03 (PDT)

Thanks Magda, I plan to read your Dec. 99 story as well. I enjoy your work very much.
Lee
- Wednesday, May 28, 2003 at 06:33:41 (PDT)

Gwenevere awoke from a sound sleep to Boots lying on her chest, he was hissing and growling. She heard a noise coming from her living room. She got up to investigate but it was as dark as the inside of a cloak, and her fireplace was out. She lighted on an oil lamp and went to the living room. She didn’t see anything until…

A large box of books came careening through the air toward Gwenevere, missing her by inches, and corning her between furniture and a door that had just slammed locked. She heard insane laughing coming from her office. Parchment, books, portfolios, and documents were all being thrown about as if in a tornado.

“I’m Peeves!!!!! Nice to make your acquaintance. Haaaaaaaaaa”

“Peeves! I don’t know… what you are but stop it now and get out of here!”

Peeves continued to devastate her rooms and she had no idea what to do, she was trapped in the dark and she was afraid. The chest of drawers suddenly burst open and the contents came fling out with such force she wrapped her arms around her head whilst being pelted with office supplies. A small bronze sculpture, of her beloved warmblood horse, came flying in her direction next, grazing one of her carpals as she raised her arm in defense.
If she knew where her wand was there was a chance she could use it but it could make things worse just as easily.
“Help!” she cried as loud ad she could.
Lee
I think peeves has been in my house once or twice. :), - Wednesday, May 28, 2003 at 06:12:52 (PDT)

Hello Redwolf. Re George SoN, my first story about him started in December 1999 and ended in December 2000. You can find it in the FOF archives (see link). The second story (which is taking far too long, I know), started in May 2001 and continues now. Hope that helps.
Magda
- Wednesday, May 28, 2003 at 05:37:31 (PDT)

Hooray a post my kingdom for a post (well it not much of a kingdom) yet when I refreshed it worked and Lees story appeared. Thank you Lee, great stuff.
Janine who should be in bed as it is 12.34 a.m. Tues 28th May
- Tuesday, May 27, 2003 at 07:31:27 (PDT)

Snape was walking up the corridor on the second floor on his way to his room when he saw Boots being let into the room just up from his door on the right. He was compelled to rap on Gwenevere’s door to let her know he was just across the hall if she needed anything, but it was getting late and he didn’t know how she would interpret it, so he went to his own room to get some more work done before going to bed.

Gwenevere was tired after a long, hectic day so she readied herself for bed at approximately ten PM.
She was accustomed to wearing something like a man’s white shirt for bed. The one she donned tonight was a short white cotton nightshirt with a low cut neckline and two ribbons that could be tied at the top to close the front. For comforts sake, Gwenevere didn’t bother. The nightshirt came mid thigh in the front and back and shorter on the sides like a dress shirt, and had ‘poet type’ sleeves with unbuttoned cuffs.
She looked extremely sexy in it, although it was the last thing she was trying to be tonight.

“Damn” Snape growled as he slammed his quill down on the desk sending a spray of ink splattering over the front of his crisp, white, custom-fitted Slytherin shirt. He wadded up parchment and threw it at the rubbish bin, missing it completely, where it joined five others on the floor, beside the bin.

He sat at his desk and closed his eyes tiring to ease the throbbing tension in his temples. He pictured Gwenevere in her white lab coat. He was untying the ribbon that held her long thick dark hair, letting it cascade around her shoulders, intoxicating his senses with its scent.

He was in a quandary and felt as though he would go mad if he didn’t make a decision concerning her soon. On the one hand, he was starting to develop unexpected, yet complex feelings for her. She had the aptitude and interest to understand the difficult potions work he did for outside contracts with Azkaban prison, hospitals and others. They were well matched for conversing, she sometimes asked him to explain something that required him to sift through years of training and experience to answer, giving his brain a vigorous workout. She brought with her, a new perspective, causing him to rethink certain truths he had gotten complacent about over the years.

Severus absolutely could relate to her physical beauty, that was easy - any idiot could do that, but in truth it was her mind that he could not dismiss, her intellect is what intrigued him most. He relished the thought of a chess game with her, wondered how often he would win against her. No, her success was no exquisite freak of nature; she had balance of intelligence, charm and beauty with a generous measure of deviousness that quite reminded him of, well… him!

On the other hand, he was set in his ways, comfortable with the way things were and didn’t like thoughts of HER, prying their way into his mind when he was trying to concentrate on something else. Like tonight for instance!

He felt restless. Something was wrong. He had an almost overpowering urge to see Gwenevere, but why? Was it just an excuse to see her again? Where was his will of iron, his stubborn tenacity? His indifference? His nasty disposition? Where! He looked at the gathering of crumpled parchment on the floor with disgust. He wished he had bloody well never met her at all damn it!
Lee
Thanks, Ellawench! I PROMISE an exciting week ahead... :-))), - Tuesday, May 27, 2003 at 07:14:32 (PDT)

Pardon me for interrupting but Iam a lurker here and was wondering if anyone is going to start a story on George Sheriff of Nottingham again?
Redwolf <timberwolf54@aol.com>
Dallas, Texas USA - Tuesday, May 27, 2003 at 03:52:41 (PDT)

No. No. Quit yer whining, silly girl.
Ella, wondering why anyone would complain when we throw parties once a month. <Ahbutitdoesntmatterbecausethisisnotyourboard!@dongivadam.com>
- Monday, May 26, 2003 at 19:08:20 (PDT)

Please. Please, move it to a chat room or the guest boards set up for this sort of thing.
.
USA - Monday, May 26, 2003 at 17:35:38 (PDT)

Chandra, Lee, welcome to the wench sisterhood! Lee, I'll need your e-mail addy (its_ellamentary "at" msn "dot" com, if you're skittish about posting it here) and a couple of days to get your Snape goodies out, sisters. As for the virtual parties, I see no reason to move them from FoF, as the context affords us the luxury of coming and going over a longer period of time and the anonymity that is necessary for switching between characters. This board is for fanfic and parties, and everyone has cohabitated nicely so far. The juvenile garbage that made an unwelcome appearance a few days ago was someone else's idea of a good time, and I see no reason to let a silly prank upset an established and enjoyable tradition. Don't you agree? Lee, I love, I love, I love your story! I don't normally get into fanfic, but you're a very talented storyteller and I appreciate the subtlety inherent in Gwenevere and Severus's developing relationship. I like dramatic tension :-)
Ellawench
- Monday, May 26, 2003 at 13:52:39 (PDT)

OT a bit--Chandra, now you have me wondering why once when I was taking a yoga class, the instructer kept coming over to adjust my hips and then finally he said hmmmmm, you have a very flexible pelvis . . .

Eeeeuuuuuuwwwwwwwww!!!

Okay, sorry for the brief OT note . . .
Dee <OhTheSecretLivesofYogaInstructers>
- Monday, May 26, 2003 at 13:01:48 (PDT)

The Professor and I attended a muggle wine tasting party at Linganore Winecellars over the weekend. We used a port key to appear in the States. A singing group called the Nighthawlks was performing and we used muggle money to purchase cases of a lovely Chardonelle. Not our usual caliber of wine, but it is light and crisp and lightly oaked; perfect to start any occasion. No, Severus didn’t like the Nighthawks and threatened harm to their large black noise boxes, but I coaxed him from ill will with a bottle or two. We did not wear muggle clothes, but no one seemed to take the slightest bit of notice.
Gwenevere
- Monday, May 26, 2003 at 08:53:40 (PDT)

Thanks so much, wenchdom, thy name is Chandra! Allow me to stock up on some good bloody thick textured Aussie wines, cherry-syrup shiraz, honey, oak and that pleasant burning sensation chardonnay and a variety of imported cheeses, good handmade crackers, some melon, apples and grapes and we're going to have a blast! and perhaps I can bore you all silly with my fantasy profession where I go from being the mundane suburban mom/yoga teacher I am to being ARs personal trainer -- he does the eye roll, sigh, drop the shoulders thing everytime I show up but are we gonna make some progress! - You only hurt the ones you love after all, and I get to adjust his hips!
Chandra <chandrasoleil@hotmail.com>
Party Time, Excellent!, - Monday, May 26, 2003 at 08:15:36 (PDT)

Sat moving Day: Saturday morning started like any other day, but didn’t end up like one. Gwenevere finished packing up her Gringotts flat by one o’clock pm and had the lot shipped instantly by magic to Hogwarts, She really didn’t have an enormous amount to move. Among her possessions, were of course the usual clothes and shoes, books, her office, chiffonier, and an armoire.
Gwenevere was not a “pack rat” by any means. Accumulating possessions was not something she tended to do, but what she did own was expensive and tasteful.

Professor Dumbledore met Gwenevere upon her arrival at Hogwarts. He showed her around and answered all of her questions before he left.
The flat had a small sitting room just inside the door with cloak rack, and a small table and two chairs. A door leading to the living room revealed a fireplace and an area in the corner with a small basin and cupboard for glasses. There was a window overlooking the Quidditch field in the distance. There was an office and storage space. Her bedroom was of good size and connected with a large bathroom with a wonderful bathtub and double basins.

She organized until 4:oo. There was a rap on her door,it was Dobby. She invited him in and they discussed their arrangement in the sitting room. Dobby would bring her tea at six am every morning and 4:oopm in the afternoon. He would bring her meals when she was stayed in to study, and would light her fireplace in the evenings. He agreed to help her with magic when needed and to be loyal and discreet regarding her personal life. In return Dobby would receive all the benefits that Thomas had mentioned; fair and generous payment every week, Spanish lessons, and investment help. Gwenevere came highly recommended, and Thomas would miss her terribly.
Lee
I probably should warn you, this story is filled with clues! ;-), - Monday, May 26, 2003 at 06:27:29 (PDT)

Hello fellow “organized” wenches! Yes the “Damn you all to hell was a joke” as spoken from a wench herself. I chatted once, in the C.R. and got the idea that the wench parties would be great in here on Saturday night with the live action and added benefit of keeping the FoF writers happy at the same time. I love to wench because I love to laugh, and laugh I do when I wench! And I can wench with anyone from Severus to Hans. Hans reminds Gwenevere of her Gringott days! I think the wenches are extremely creative and entertaining, and a wonderful stress relief. The FoF writers are talented and creative and write stories that I enjoy reading and rereading. I try to print them and save for reading while my daughter takes Ballet class, but I have no willpower so I must read them at once! I would love to join wenches and Chandra seems a wonderful addition if she likes to laugh out loud. Janine, Yes we must figure time zones, I will ask the UPS er. If every one is happy, the laughter will be that much more enjoyable, speaking for myself.
Lee
- Monday, May 26, 2003 at 05:52:02 (PDT)

Hi All. I do not mind where I party as long as I party. Yet everytime I go to the chat room it is empty. Do you just click onto the URL or do you have to sign yourself away. LOL.

The FOF guestbook is being mean every time I log on it seems to be frozen in time. I come back a few hours later and I have a few days worth of posting. SO I am sorry Lee my access is possessed and I will email you soon.

I would like to also say that to me the creative process is action reaction and interaction. Surely a little bit of fun (I prefer a designated party time) is not going to send our creative writers here into a straight jacket?
Janine and can SDeverus magically tell me what that time frame would be in Melbourne time?
It is 6.19 p.m. Monday 26th May, - Monday, May 26, 2003 at 01:15:15 (PDT)

Can I please join the wenches? I'm so bored with swimming laps in the ruined chamber below the school and telling Malfoy not to levitate in Yoga class (he's mocking me, of course) I just need a place to vent!
chandra <chandrasoleil@hotmail.com>
Director of Phys. Ed - Hogwarts Academy of Witchcraft and Wizardry, - Sunday, May 25, 2003 at 17:52:30 (PDT)

Ah, Thank You :-) Yeah, yeah, the horizontal mambo, you mean ;-)
Ella <MyMorrisdancetellsastoryallright@Severuswenchdrinksoftmusic...ahem.com>
- Sunday, May 25, 2003 at 13:47:06 (PDT)

Ella, Morris dancing is an English folk dance. I think the dancers are acting out a particular story, but I;m not sure. It looks like the Hokey Pokey and the Macarena put together. The Colonel and I do it every night. Dance, I mean.
Kate
Keepin' it PG-13, - Sunday, May 25, 2003 at 13:14:34 (PDT)

For anyone who's curious: Rickman Revelers. (Hit the "comment on this" link to post something. Choose "anonymous", but be sure to mention who you are in your post so we'll recognize you!) Lee, you would make a *superb* wench! Wanna join? (The ELOOSW, I mean. But you can join us over at RR if you'd like, also.) Membership has its privileges (in the form of personalized Snape pics and a coat of arms suitable for framing ;-). And then you get your number, so you know what position to take in the queue...

Someone please tell me, what is Morris dancing? I keep seeing the phrase and am going to go bonkers if someone doesn't TELL ME WHAT IT MEANS! (Aaaaah! I'm halfway there already!)
Ellawench
- Sunday, May 25, 2003 at 12:59:44 (PDT)

Hello! Adding to Dee's very accurate sentiment, that was NOT, I repeat NOT, us the other day. We've dabbled in innuendo, nice and acceptable PG-13 stuff, but would never get involved with such base, tasteless humor.

I thought the person who said we're "disrupting the creativity here, damn you all to hell" (something along those lines) was joking. That's how I interepreted it. Maybe we're all just being too sensitive? (??)

And just to clarify, because I think there may have been a misunderstanding, "wenches" are members of the E.L.O.O.S.W., an informal group of Snape fans established a little while back, consisting of six (active) wenches: me, Dee, Carolyn Dear Carolyn, Gissing's Girl, Saturnine, and Deb. Kate and Susan are the Colonel's chicks, and Janine runs an art gallery in Hogsmeade. And the bunch of us have a community site for "hanging out" and being raunchy (because we KNOW it's not permissible here and respect that fact). If anyone here would like to be a wench, or a member of another "house", please, all you have to do is ask. GB/FoF posters are welcome to join the Rickman Revelers community, also. (Again, just ask! The only thing we require is tolerance of differing viewpoints. Critical analysis of The Man's personal and professional lives is a common occurence, as well as singing his praises. No slamming of others for their critiques/opinions is allowed.)
Ella, wench no. 5
- Sunday, May 25, 2003 at 12:33:27 (PDT)

I would just like to say that the recent, and very odd posts, which are not PG-13 are NOT from the wenches!! At least not from this one!
Dee <JustSoTheRecordIsClearPleaseDon'tKeepBlamingUs>
- Sunday, May 25, 2003 at 09:29:50 (PDT)

“We could go to the kitchen and coax elves out of some food. You could speak with Dobby as well.” He suggested.
“That sounds like a plan.” She said.
Snape turned out lamps in the dungeon and Gwenevere hung her lab coat on the cloak rack in Snape’s office. He helped her on with her black cloak; tiny red sparks were shocking his fingers as he did so.

In the Hogwarts kitchen, they ate cold chicken, and salad, and Gwenevere sipped from a tall glass of milk. Dobby came out to speak with Gwenevere and was very interested in working for her in addition to his Hogwarts schedule. Gwenevere said she had already gotten permission from Head Master Dumbledore so, he could speak with Thomas, her former elf for the details.

“We could discus the amber vial now unless you’ve had enough shop talk for one day.”
She said to Professor Snape after Dobby left them.
“There is a difference talking with you somehow.”
He said with mock sarcasm refer-ring to his often-voiced opinion that most of his students are impetuous imbeciles who tax him to his limits on a daily basis.

It’s a natural endogenous surfactant and is a compound composed of phospholipids, neutral lipids, and proteins. I used the synthetic version tonight, which has an indefi-nite shelf life. If you would like to have a look at the formula you can obtain it from my office after I move, tomorrow.”
Snape found it amusing how she can switch from friendly chat mode to brilliant chemist mode so quickly and completely.
“Yes, I would, Professor Collins…or shall I call you Doctor Collins?”
“No, I was Doctor Collins at Gringotts. I would prefer you call me Gwenevere actu-ally.”
She said with a pleasant smile, as their eyes met yet again. Professor Snape paused to contemplate.

"Call me Severus.”
Lee
- Sunday, May 25, 2003 at 04:28:30 (PDT)

Might I suggest 18:00 hours PDT every Saturday Night for Wench Room Chat Party, in my dungeon. Bring a friend...Pick your potion. Leave your "inhibitions" at the door. Other helpful suggestions welcome and encouraged.
Sev
- Sunday, May 25, 2003 at 03:30:35 (PDT)

Oh, I forgot to mention, all the FOF & GB archives are now working again. So if you find any broken links, please let me know. Thanks!

Suzanne
- Saturday, May 24, 2003 at 21:37:17 (PDT)

As I said before, it is better to have the virtual parties here than next door. And the occasional party is fine (but please remember this is a PG-13 site). However, I'd like to point out that there is a difference between a party (where a date/time is set) and raunchy comments like the ones posted a few days ago (hopefully that was a one time occurrence). But if the wenches want to get really wild, I think the chat room is an excellent idea, where you can let your hair down, say anything you like. It's live and it's fun! Give it a try. Might I suggest the wenches decide among themselves on a regular day & time (weekly, perhaps?) to party down in the dungeon... er, I mean chat room and I'll post it above?

Suzanne <Suz@mail.usa.com>
I don't think the current sound file is true anymore. ;-), - Saturday, May 24, 2003 at 21:17:53 (PDT)

Off set-the Hideous Arcane Eldritch Non-Euclidean Museum Affair:

“Mary Anne, look.”

Mary Anne, who has in fact connected with Therese for a few moments of buffet-grazing and people-watching, turns and looks in the direction indicated, and smiles. “Cleans up a bit better than you’d expect, doesn’t he?”

Therese masks her chuckles behind a sip of her drink, and Mary Anne, under cover of refilling her plate, watches as Minion holds court with his group of admirers. Minus the terrified-subordinate slump and the oversized glasses, “Minion” has vanished and been replaced by this man in a dark suit and slate-gray shirt. All understatement and subtlety-and oddly attractive, at least to the women grouped about him.

“I think that one”-Mary Anne discreetly points out one of the women to Therese-“has been using my evil self as a personal shopper. Very Goth, don’t you think?”

Therese nods, taking in the woman’s kohl-ringed eyes, light-swallowing black gown, and stark white complexion that makes her own pale skin and Mary Anne’s look flushed and glowing by comparison. “Dark side of the moon, all of them. He seems to have his own cult following, though. Whole web pages and stuff.”

“I know, but really . . . and it’s so strange to see him in clothes that actually fit.”

Therese is in the midst of wrinkling up her nose at some dubious-looking canapés that have started to appear gummy on her plate, but she breaks into a grin at this. “You always notice the clothes, don’t you?”

“Too right I do.” Mary Anne smirks back, affectionately. “And have I told you that you’re stunning in that black? I don’t know how you and Dev ever got here this evening. How he could keep his hands off you in that . . .”

“Ha, funny lady. I suppose our Chrissie was a saint and hasn’t touched you all evening?” fires back Therese, chuckling to see Mary Anne blush a little, even as she adopts a pose of exaggerated hauteur and majestically intones, “Christopher Brandon is a gentleman. It says so in all the scripts!”

“Well, since you write most of his material, I guess you’d know. Seriously though, that gown is a killer. It’s perfect for you-and did you know it’d be a sea of black tonight? Is that why you chose it?”

“What, did you think I’d be trying to show everyone else up? And it’s not all black tonight, either. Cindie’s gown is beautiful, I think.”

Therese narrows her eyes a little. “Yeah, and Mistral thought, too. I was watching him earlier, couldn’t take his eyes off her. So, do you think our Mister I has really fallen in love?”

“I hope-“ begins Mary Anne, before she is interrupted by a commotion by the fountain across the room.

A splash. An operatic screech of outrage.

Therese and Mary Anne exchange glances, set down plates and cups, and move toward the fountain. But Mary Anne is halted in mid-stride as a hand settles on her arm and she turns and looks up into Brandon’s face.

His voice. Slightly hoarse, low-pitched, penetrating to her heart. “Where were you, Mary Anne? I missed you.”

MA--"aspidistra over teakettle . . ." *snorfle*
Well, Cindie, I said I'd do it! ;-) Therese: Brandon found MA; will Dev find Therese? , - Saturday, May 24, 2003 at 20:32:25 (PDT)

Web Master Suzanne,Will you please clarify guidelines concerning the wench parties? Maybe posting limits, day of the week limits, time limits, or no wench parties at all, in which case the virtual party description may need to be revised. I believe everyone concerned will follow your wishes, or I would like to think they would. Maybe compromises can be reached from sides, the writers and the wenches. The w&w’s.
A Concerned Wench
- Saturday, May 24, 2003 at 19:43:15 (PDT)

Cindie He's going to follow her isn't he? Isn't he??????
Lee
- Saturday, May 24, 2003 at 16:46:09 (PDT)

Kate, we will have balls togather. the virtual party discription led me also to believe that parties were welvome and encouraged, but i don't think Suzanne likes them.
Lee
- Saturday, May 24, 2003 at 16:26:52 (PDT)

Off Set - The Museum Debacle:

Jessica charged.

Whatever adrenalin rush the situation was creating propelled her forward with a hand out and raised for battle. If Jessica thought it was going to be the whip hand she was mistaken. Cindie didn’t know if the woman was trying to start a cat fight or was trying to push her in, but she had no intention of being struck or bathing in the water fountain, tasteful as it was. Her silk slippers didn’t have the lethal points of the creature’s stiletto heels but they were comfortable, no bar to agility, and made it much easier to side step the raised hand and the body which followed it. Jessica wasn’t one to pull her punches, or slaps, and her momentum had been considerable and was nearly enough to send her over the low railing and into the water.

When Jessica had lunged Mistral was right behind her. He knew that Jessica was wont to give vent to her frustrations physically, but it hadn’t occurred to him that she would target Cindie. He had expected her to turn on him. Another error where this woman was concerned. That half second of surprise was enough to prevent Mistral from reaching Jessica before she would have connected with Cindie. He was preparing to reach to pull Jessica aside when he saw Cindie step neatly out of harm’s way in a ripple of pale purple silk. He stopped his forward momentum and was about to compliment her on her success when the expression on his lotus blossom’s face pulled him up short.

For a moment the gentle plop, plop, plop of the fountain was all that could be heard as Jessica teetered on the edge. That those heels raised her center of gravity seemed obvious to Cindie who could see that all she needed was a little nudge to complete her journey. Just as Jessica physically teetered so did Cindie’s conscience. The dime was balanced on its edge. When it toppled over it was clearly tails and not the cooler heads which prevailed. Lavender silk slipper met shimmering black clad backside and the screech of indignant female joined the more placid sounds of the water.

Cindie’s tormentor went aspidistra over tea kettle in a most satisfying fashion. Guilt kicked in almost immediately and part of it was because she didn’t think she felt quite as guilty as she ought to. The non-guilt was fueled by the fact that, even shaking with rage and climbing to her feet with water soaking her expensive dress, the creature was beautiful. Her geometric hair looked impeccable and the wet look suited her. The lights on the fountain caught her diamonds and sent prisms dancing in the water. It was all quite spectacular, really. And she certainly had everyone’s attention.

Mistral immediately swung long legs over the side and into the fountain to rescue the floundering damsel whose expression of rage changed to that of feminine distress at the first wink of a camera flash. Mistral lifted her up, seemingly heedless of his own clothes and shoes becoming soaked, and carried her out to the safety of dry land, or more accurately, dry carpet, to the flash and whir of cameras and the looks and then cheers of stunned spectators. Jessica invented a bizarre tale of a lost earring. Luckily one had apparently fallen off in her nose dive or she had done the work of removing it herself. According to her it was the attempt to retrieve it that caused her to slip into the fountain. At this declaration, Mistral returned to the water and unerringly scooped it up, waved the gaudy ear bob and was hailed a hero. With a courtly bow he returned the lost bauble amid yet more applause. Jessica accepted it with disgusting grace as she stood there with her gown sucking to her skin and a malevolent dark stain puddling around her feet as the water dripped off.

Jessica basked in the flash of bulbs and pointedly avoided looking in Cindie’s direction as she linked arms with her Sir Galahad. Her smile was beautific.

Cindie had been rendered a spectator almost immediately by virtue of her dry garments. It was a great relief when she felt a hand on her shoulder and looked to see Chandos standing next to her. “It was inevitable I suppose.” She looked at him sharply but he intoned mildly, “An emotionally charged situation involving three people so near a body of water; albeit a tastefully designed and artificial one. Someone was bound to get drenched.”

“The evening has certainly ended with a splash and a flourish. Take me home, won’t you Chandos?”

“If that is what you wish.” He sounded reluctant and cocked his head toward Mistral.

“It is.” Cindie didn’t choose to verbalize that Mistral appeared otherwise engaged.

Whatever Mistral was thinking was hidden behind an urbane smile as he waved off the accolades and tossed off quotable quotes to the admiring crowd. Under the guise of assistance he peeled off Jessica’s grip and gave her over to some museum staffers who promised towels and warm blankets. Once he was rid of her he turned to suggest to Cindie that they leave now. He wanted nothing more than to take her home and perhaps beg a towel at her place to dry his feet. Other matters would have to wait for a more auspicious time. A genuine smile flickered as he thought that perhaps he would ask to borrow her bunny slippers for the drive to his place. The words that were forming on his mouth never left his lips. She wasn’t there.

Cindie
Some dubious homages. , - Saturday, May 24, 2003 at 16:24:09 (PDT)

what would be the problem with the chat room?
Lee
- Saturday, May 24, 2003 at 16:22:56 (PDT)

I think the confusion comes from the fact that the FoF description says clearly "for virtual parties." So we moved the virtual party to FoF. Until FoF changes its description to something like "for the sole use of fanfic writers," I don't see why anybody should be upset by our VERY occasional revels. And for the record, that was not us spamming the juvenile stuff the other day. You got hackers right here in River City, methinks. See you at the next bash, whenever it is!
Kate
Yeah, I'll sign my name to this, - Saturday, May 24, 2003 at 16:02:40 (PDT)

Didn't Suzanne herself tell the wenches they were welcome to party right here?!
an even greater wench
- Saturday, May 24, 2003 at 15:57:42 (PDT)

Did i say the wench parties are not fun? no, no, no! I can wench with the best of them, and plan to, however, I just feel they are best suited in the empty chat room where they dont upset so many other people who have been using this FoF for a long time. and i will be there wenching away! Bet on it.
a great wench
- Saturday, May 24, 2003 at 15:34:35 (PDT)

The large terrifying bat wizard is correct. I have been to some lovely parties on this GB with some of the finest ladies money can buy and I must say that those of you who cannot enjoy a little bawdy Morris dancing and fine aged port are sorry individuals indeed!
Colonel Brandon <cleanandsoberfor36hours>
- Saturday, May 24, 2003 at 15:24:57 (PDT)

Pity you can't buy a sense of humour. My Wenches are FUN and I love their parties and so does my good friend the Colonel. S Snape, Potions Master and Sex Slave .
Severus Snape
- Saturday, May 24, 2003 at 15:10:09 (PDT)

That boy is so whipped! "Hello, Professor Snape, I wonder where your backbone went." "It threw itself off the cliff of physical chemistry and willingly drowned in the green sea of Dr. Collin's eyes." "Ah, that explains it."

I love it! It is so much fun watching Sevvie succumb to Gwenevere's charms.

Wench-Be-Gone, eh? You didn't happen to purchase it off of a stranger in the Leaky Cauldron? Same guy once persuaded Hagrid to accept a Norwegian Ridgeback egg...with disasterous results. 'Tis a pity our magic easily trumps whatever simple potions that fool concocts. And as for the poisoned whipped cream and honey, we *always* bring our own. Renowned for it, actually :-) Better luck next time! Mwa ha ha ha ha ha ha!
Silly Girl no. 5 <Snapestirsmycauldron@AggressivelySexualFans.com>
- Saturday, May 24, 2003 at 11:26:44 (PDT)

Snape began pacing through the aisles between the tables with cool agitation the tempera-ture of cryogen. Clearly he was torqued to maximum capacity as he showered the stu-dents with a barrage of insults owing to the classes’ lack of preparation thus wasting time and a possible dismissal past eight o’clock. Finally he regarded the catatonic pupils and with an eerie calm said,

“Well, what are you all waiting for? Begin the lab!”

He flew back to Gwenevere’s table and sat down, mildly curious as to her reaction to his scornful scolding. Gwenevere locked eyes with him and failed to resist the urge to smile but did succeed in squelching the snicker. Snape noticed that when she smiled she maintained the intelligent expression in her eyes. A calm, focused seriousness suddenly came over her as she riveted her stare on his.

“Let’s begin.” She said to him.

Gwenevere handed Professor Snape a mortar and pestle that contained dried green leaves.
“Please pulverize until it measures 80 grains in volume exactly.”
She instructed. Snape obeyed. He watched her work with concentration and patience as she measured 60 grains each, from three different containers containing green powder. She combined them and using a funnel, placed them in a 10-dram vial. She handed him a thermometer and asked him to monitor the cauldron’s contents until it was ready to reach 100c.

Professor Snape was monitoring the students periodically and taking notes in Latin, ready to thwart any beginnings of disaster.
Gwenevere added fifteen macrogtts of a blue liquid to the potion causing it to turn the color of the sea. Snape quietly watched, awestruck at the flawlessness of her timing and overall competence. He was extremely surprised and hadn’t realized the extent of her ability after having worked so closely with her Grandfather, possibly the greatest Potions Master ever lived.

She placed a heatproof 500ml Erlenmeyer flask fixed with a thistle funnel filter and aspirator next to the caldron. Professor Snape rechecked the temperature in the caldron.
“We’re almost to temperature.”
He told her as his pupils dilated in reaction to the fury in her green eyes. From her lab coat pocket, she seized a vile with dropper and set them on the table. She met Professor Snape’s eyes with the look of determination and calmly said in perfect French. “Time for the Coup D’ Etat’”
“We are at 100c.”

Professor Snape reported, curious as to the identity of the substance contained in the amber vial sitting on the table just in front of him. She poured the 10 drams of green powder into the cauldron and handed Snape a glass stirrer. “Stir please.” She asked. Quickly the potion began to expand threatening to over-flow like a miniature volcano. She wasted no time as she added 1 gtt from the dropper to the angrily foaming green brew. Instantly the foam subsided.

“Would you please extinguish the flame under the cauldron?”
She asked Snape as she put the vial back into her pocket. Gwenevere carefully emptied the cauldron’s simmering contents into the prepared filter with out spilling a minim.

“It’s a beautiful thing.” Snape absently said, his eyes were wide and sparkled as he intensely studied the liquid emerald substance flowing through the filter. The class was now testing their potions leaving time for Professor Snape to ask her about the mysterious vial.

“Are you planning to identity for me, the contents of the amber vial in your pocket?” He said, his voice dark and provocative.

“Oh, so you are interested in the family's potion secrets are you?” She said, her voice of equal sumptuousness.
“I would be delighted to exchange Potion secrets with you on a regular basis Professor Snape, as I’m certain you have countless tricks of the trade to share as well, don’t you?”

He held her gaze; pleased and intrigued by her answer.
“Excuse me please.”
He said as he leapt up and moved to the back of the room to instruct Gwenevere’s classmates. With a wave of his wand, he made the various shades of green goo puddles disappear from under tables. He went to his desk and slid a piece of parchment out from under Boots, who didn’t budge, and took ink and quill back to grade the effectiveness that each potion in turn demonstrated. Gwenevere put ingredients away and cleared the table allowing Boots to rejoin her there. Professor Snape prepared for closing announcements.

“Ferrars! Steele! Go and see Doctor Collins so she can clear you both up. What did you do - roll around in it!
Next week you all have research projects due. See me after class if you need additional reference materials over the weekend. You are dismissed.”

Snape returned to his desk to gather the notes from the classes’ first laboratory project. Gwenevere noticed he looked a little tired, and heaven knows she was. It had been a tough week for them both apparently. He asked her if she had eaten dinner yet…
Lee
- Saturday, May 24, 2003 at 04:24:16 (PDT)

Yes, you shall have it! I have sprayed wench-Be-Gone all around here today as a precaution for tonight and set traps. There are also poisoned whipped cream and honey packets incase they break through the other barriers…that should do the trick! Wenches stay away and have your party in the chat room if you must. You are interfering with our creativity damn you all to hell.
Let the mistery begin...soon
- Saturday, May 24, 2003 at 03:51:13 (PDT)

Very perceptive, actually.
Hans (though it wasn't me, I assure you)
- Friday, May 24, 2003 at 03:04:41 (PDT)

Thank you, Doctor Freud, for that perspicacious observation.

Write, Lee, dammit, write!!! More Severus and Gwenevere!
Absolutely certain that I'm a Rickmansexual woman.
- Friday, May 23, 2003 at 22:00:46 (PDT)

I'll tell you what I think is really weird about the recent posts here . . . and forgive my gender confusion . . . but I think there are lots of guys posting lately. (Er, guys tend to think flatulence jokes are quite funny.) And funny they are (sort of) but, females just don't usually go that route. Now, if I were a thinking person (and perhaps I'm not at the moment), I would think that some of the recent flatulence posts are the product of some young men who are struggling with their sexual identity. Er, it's okay to be gay!!!!! Just let it alllllll out . . .
Isn't youth a lovely time???
- Friday, May 23, 2003 at 18:52:56 (PDT)

Now and in time to be,/ Wherever green is worn/ Are changed, changed utterly:/ A terrible beauty is born.
Prof. of Etiqutte
This place is getting a little weird right now. On with the tales, I say!, - Friday, May 23, 2003 at 05:52:53 (PDT)

HTLM better?
Lee
- Thursday, May 22, 2003 at 19:16:08 (PDT)

On Friday evening, Gwenevere arrived at the dungeon at 4:30 PM for the 5:00 PM class. The adrenalin pulsating through her veins like voltage through high-intensity cable was having a euphoric effect and her mind was crystal clear and ready to begin.

She was wearing a deep green dress, which along with the high emotional energy she was experiencing, brought out the green in her eyes making them look like exquisite emeralds as foreground to the fiery intensity behind them.

Gwenevere had an unusual, but not unheard of, eye color trait that affected some witches. Her eyes completely changed their color depending on various conditions such as weather, her mood, or even what she happened to be wearing. It was as if she had an enormous selection of colored contact lenses in every conceivable naturally occurring eye color.

She wore a white lab coat over her clothes whenever she worked with chemicals, and tied her hair back in a ribbon. Sometimes she wore glasses if the potion formula’s print was extremely small.

She knew from Professor Snape’s subtle hint in class on Monday that he expected them to set up prior to the actual start of class, which was two minutes till five- Snape time. She organized her ingredients juxtaposed and in chronological order then lit the flame under the cauldron with matches containing pre-measured water. Boots watched as she completed her set up procedure taught to her by her Grandfather.

“Good evening Professor Collins” Professor Snape said as he swept in from his office and pulled a chair around to the other side of the table He did this so he could closely monitor Gwenevere… and the class whilst they worked on their potions. He quickly sat down and turned his head toward Boots giving him a look that strongly suggested he move. If cats rolled their eyes, Boots would have done so as he caught the hint and lazily jumped down from the table and leaped onto Professor Snape’s desk for a nap.

Professor Snape then leaned in closer toward Gwenevere intensely communicating to her through his eyes for a moment, as if they were about to embark on an important mission, before saying
“I see you’re all set up, we will begin momentarily.”
Professor Snape was in rare form tonight.
Lee
- Thursday, May 22, 2003 at 19:09:41 (PDT)

Interesting... *becomes SL* (silent lurker) - Mouse.
Mouse <wingzerro@attbi.com>
Erm....? <.< >.> Nice website...good writing., Wa Usa - Thursday, May 22, 2003 at 18:18:54 (PDT)

On Thursday, after running three miles, Gwenevere was in the bubble bath by six AM. She used this time to meditate and fine- tune plans for the day ahead.
Brad had Gringotts under control, so today she planned to stay home and start the packing -up process. She was also planning to prepare for the Potions lab Friday night.
Tomorrow she would arrive at Gringotts early and be finished by noon thus ending her career in international banking thus embarking on a new one at Hogwarts.
As she prepared for her lab, she recalled Professor Snape’s powerful and insightful lectures, which were unlocking Gwenevere’s past Potions knowledge and awareness.
She had learned volumes from her Grandfather; through the years of carefully watching him mix potions and helping him in his laboratory. Latinian was actually her first language before English, and she knew the entire Collins Component Chart by the time she was nine.
She had spent almost every waking minute of her free time working with him in his laboratory until he died when she was in her late teens.
Grandfather was a powerful wizard and a legend throughout the Potion Masters’ realm having pioneered many of the procedures in use today.
He loved Gwenevere more than anything in the world, and eagerly shared his potions secrets with her. Gwenevere was his precious protégée from the start and he carefully built her potions foundation with every intention she become a Master five as the last four generations before had.
Grandfather was a forward thinker, contrary to the usual Masters' way of thought, and couldn’t see why Gwenevere shouldn’t become Potions Master if that is what she wanted, but when he died so died her Potions Master dream, because being a woman it was doubtful another Master would indulge her dream.
Gwenevere was then forced to focus on a career in finance, where she could use her brain in a field that wasn’t so closed to diversity.

Throughout her life Gwenevere’s parents were away for humanitarian purposes a great deal of the time, leaving her in her Grandfather’s care. Her parents had been driven by a mission in life and traveled constantly to places far away helping people in need.
Her father was a brilliant man and an excellent Potions Master; he would have been a Great Master and continued her education had he lived long enough.
Lee
Yes, Gwenevere will need to work hard to get our boy's mind right., - Thursday, May 22, 2003 at 05:04:50 (PDT)

Yeats or Yates, as in Rusty? Doesn't matter, I suppose...
Ghost of Labor Day past
Snape probably is sexist. Still sex-y, though., - Wednesday, May 21, 2003 at 15:09:32 (PDT)

Snape is a sexist pig.
Hermione
- Wednesday, May 21, 2003 at 15:05:51 (PDT)

Someone else has been reading too much Yeats, apparently: "Snape could well imagine how she could have become so successful in the international business world. She was so alluring, it would take a very secure and powerful wizard, such as himself for example, not to fall pray and get too distracted."

To insinuate that yet another woman has not so much broken the glass ceiling as has enjoyed a steady climb in a glass elevator powered by her physical attributes! Double Hmph!
Hermione, outraged mini-feminist
- Wednesday, May 21, 2003 at 15:01:49 (PDT)

We must labor to be beautiful? Yeats was a patronizing sexist. Hmph.
Hermione, mini-feminist extraordinaire
- Wednesday, May 21, 2003 at 14:53:11 (PDT)

Raunchy juvenile posts removed.
Keep it clean!
D.o.C.

Troll in the dungeon!
Prof. Quirrel
- Wednesday, May 21, 2003 at 14:16:12 (PDT)

Look, we are sorry to say, but this spamming from people has got to be stopped. It is not appreciated nor is it in any way enjoyable or funny. Please, us from FOF, are all asking you nicely- withhold your spam!
A Concerned Viewer
If you have nothing better to do, then get out!, - Wednesday, May 21, 2003 at 11:13:54 (PDT)

Yes, that would be a privilege indeed as my brain was turning to mush before Gwenevere came along to massage it.
Profesor Severus Snape
- Wednesday, May 21, 2003 at 07:41:55 (PDT)

Snape reads Yeats--I'm impressed. I could see him having an absorbing off-set conversation with Dev! 8-)

MA
"To be born woman is to know/Although they do not talk of it at school/That we must labour to be beautiful . . .", - Wednesday, May 21, 2003 at 05:15:07 (PDT)

Line break fixed.
D.o.C.

D.o.C. Would you be so kind as to fix my >br>. if you have the time...Oh, It it so embarrassing. Please and Thank you :}
Lee
- Wednesday, May 21, 2003 at 04:25:49 (PDT)

‘And thereupon that beautiful mild woman for whose sake
There’s many a one shall find out all heartache’
Came to Professor Snape’s mind as he surreptitiously scrutinized Professor Collins.
He led her to his office so that She could retrieve her conveniently forgotten article of clothing.

Tonight Gwenevere was wearing a curve-hugging, heart-stopping royal blue dress and black robes. She was a stunning sight with her long dark hair and blue eyes that were quickly becoming addictive.
Snape could well imagine how she could have become so successful in the international business world. She was so alluring, it would take a very secure and powerful wizard, such as himself for example, not to fall pray and get too distracted.

For the next six weeks, Professor Snape's night classes would make dining in the Great Hall difficult, so on the round Ball-and-claw table was a tray left there by the house elves so he could dine after class.
There was an enormous amount of parchment work and planning associated with potions class thus, being the only Potions teacher for a school the size of Hogwarts, Professor Snape routinely spent weeknights working alone until late at night either in his office or his den.
Owing to the extremely technical nature and training required to do his work, an assistant was not feasible, besides, an incompetent blundering idiot assistant would only torment him all the more, this way he could at least enjoy the peace and quiet of spending the time alone.
Oddly enough there were two meals on the tray tonight.
“That’s odd. It looks as though the kitchen staff was expecting you tonight Professor Collins.”
He regarded the rather forward gesture with some suspicion.

“Would you like to join me?” He offered,
as he once again sought after the calming effect her ocean blue eyes had on him.
“Yes.” She answered, returning the gaze.
He seated her at the table. He was thirsty after lecturing for almost two hours.
“Ambo calyx aquor Racemusim ”He said touching his wand to the tray and two glasses of water appeared along with beautiful clusters of seedless grapes.
“Cheers” They each said.
“Would you rather have wine instead?” He asked. Eyebrows arched slightly.
“Yes, I’d like to see that!”
Gwenevere always loved watching wand work.
“Transformis ambo camella vinum”
He touched the glasses and they instantly transformed into glasses of white wine.
“Cheers” They each said, again.

They talked for over three hours, after the delicious dinner, whilst slowly sipping wine.
Professor Snape told her about Quidditch and the four houses within the school and that he was head of Slytherin house.
She asked him questions about the track around the Quidditch field, and hiring a house elf to work for her part time.
The conversation eventually shifted to the subject of Potions and tonight’s lecture. Gwenevere asked intelligent, probing questions and Professor Snape gave brilliant in-depth answers.
Time was a vague annoyance as they conversed fluently until after eleven o’clock.
Before leaving, Gwenevere asked to borrowed one of the books she had seen last time in Professor Snape’s bookcase, promising its safe return.
“Not to worry. I know where to find you, you will be very close at hand.”
He said with a self-assured devilish grin. (Poem. William Butler Yeats: Adams Curse 1904)
Lee
For the Synopsis, view May 3 ;- ), - Wednesday, May 21, 2003 at 04:18:17 (PDT)

As the last of the students was leaving, Professor Snape collected notes from his desk and was moving in Gwenevere’s direction again as he did before class.

“Professor Snape…what happens if one of your students is simply not allergic to toxicodendron radicans?”

“Never mind, neither am I, but I am certain that someone will come to this class on Friday with enough of it to test every potion a thousand and one times.”
He said, as if relishing the thought of it.
Lee
This bit was supposed to be there too., - Monday, May 19, 2003 at 09:26:21 (PDT)

Gwenevere eagerly anticipated the Wednesday evening potions lecture all day. She arrived early and brought a potions book to read.
The potions dungeon with its familiar apothecary jars and cauldrons filled her senses, She had not felt more alive since she was seventeen. She couldn’t stay away. This room was her favorite place to be in the world.
Professor Snape arrived next and was surprised and very pleased to see her.

“My students typically don’t arrive here this early” He quipped.

“It’s a bad habit of mine,” she said, continuing the banter.
The eye contact was having a more profound effect on them; pulling them closer like a powerful magnet, an almost irresistible urge to touch enveloped them, as did a warm feeling of serenity and contentment, like two lovers reuniting after an agonizing eternity apart.
They were both extremely reluctant to look away.

“Your cloak was left in my office on Tuesday.” He said,
noticing that her blue eyes were turning deeper blue as they continued the conversation.

“Yes, I know. I’ll pick it up after class tonight… if that’s alright?”
The other students were arriving now, rudely jolting them from their momentary state of bliss.
Boots was sitting on Gwenevere’s table facing the class, as if maybe he had decided to teach tonight.
Snape was seated at his desk now and was marking down the roll call quietly. Gwenevere could hear his gyrfalcon quill loading ink in the well and scratching against parchment as his eyes looked up periodically noting attendance.
He looked at her several times in the interim, which gave her butterflies if she noticed him doing so. She remembered calling them “flutterbys” when she was a child.

Professor Snape reviewed notes and was preparing to lecture. He slowly paced the room like a caged tiger as his velvety voice spoke at a rhythmic, steady pace.
The information he delivered was perfectly organized, and clearly explained. He was fascinating to listen to, obviously a brilliant wizard and accomplished Potions Master.

As Professor Snape lectured, Gwenevere’s wide-ranging potions knowledge and experience became more organized and accessible to her. Her mind was avaricious as Professor Snape’s words connected the dots. Crisp recollections of her extensive potions work with her Grandfather as his protégée came rushing forth with crystal clarity.

When he ended the lecture, Gwenevere had to give her watch a glance to prove to herself that nearly two hours had passed.

“Class, on Friday we will be making an antidotal coetaneous inflammation philter in lab, so on Thursday you all need to collect samples of toxicodendron radicans located on the edge of the forbidden Forrest. Class dismissed”
Lee <On the edge of my chair@overwhelmingsuspense.net>
I am mortified! M.A. and Therese must be found at once. The devil creature looks much, much too dry for my liking as well. , - Monday, May 19, 2003 at 05:17:55 (PDT)

Off set-the Rapidly-Becoming-Too-Ghastly-For-Words Museum Affair:

Brandon peers through the crowd, searching for Mary Anne. Though how I could have lost sight of her in that gown . . . wait, does that makes it sound as if I were the one in the gown . . . oh, never mind it. Where is she?

Giving up the search for the moment, Brandon looks about him until he spies a solitary gallery off to one side of the main reception floor. Even at this by-invitation-only gala, the press of people is overwhelming and quite naturally, the invitations list had included many fans of the series, which was why The Director had been so adamant about their attendance.

That was how he had become separated from Mary Anne-a pause here, to answer a question or two; a handshake here; a request for a bit of gossip there . . .

So, leave it be. You needn’t be by her side every moment, you know. For now, you need to breathe a bit. And that unoccupied gallery seems the perfect place, with its subdued lighting-though the art display, to Brandon’s taste, leaves a little something to be desired as he finds himself confronting a stone sculpture some three metres tall, though its aspect is far more forlorn than forbidding. Abstract, but clearly meant to embody a human figure, the rough-chiseled stone suggests to Brandon a man carrying a heavy load and waiting for the first opportunity to drop it. There, at the top, is the bowed head; there, the bulge of a drooping shoulder, and that shadow, a knee about to bend.

A dry smile. A few more minutes with this gentleman, and I’ll be saying, Why am I not made of stone like thee? In which case I shall certainly kick myself all the way from here down to Valet Parking.

A movement by the door. A waiter passing by with a tray. Brandon hesitates, then resolutely decides against another glass of champagne.

“Quite the lad, isn’t he?”

Brandon starts. Dev had entered by another door, quite unheard, and is gazing up at the sculpture.

“Quite. I should hate, as they say, to come upon him in a dark alley.”

Dev shakes his head. “I shouldn’t think that he’d harm you. He looks too exhausted for anything of the sort.”

“So you see it too, then.”

“To be sure. He’s . . . pathetic. If he stepped off the pedestal, I’d feel as if I had to offer him a drink and a good bed for the night, just for decency’s sake.”

Brandon studies the figure again. “Better him than that Cretan fertility horror. Talk of things one should hate to encounter in a dark alley . . .”

“Cretan fertility horror?” A subdued chuckle. “Yes, I think I know the one you mean. Come now, Christopher-different cultures and all.” Gently needling. “Can’t be parochial, you know.”

Brandon frowns, remembering the figurine’s effect on him. “I know, but do you mean to say you didn’t feel at all put off by that thing? And it was not . . .” At a loss for words, Brandon gestures and can see that Dev has taken his meaning immediately, both of them recalling the statuette’s elaborate state of undress. “Well, it was not only that. She was . . . it was heartless.”

“Most of them were.” Dev’s tone is blessedly matter-of-fact. “Yes, I know what you mean. But the Irish have their traditions of it as well. When you grow up reading of Maeve and Deirdre and Niamh . . .”

Brandon cannot resist. “Weren’t they some of Sir John’s wolfhounds?”

“God help the man those hounds are after! But as I was saying, I saw what you meant, but I may have found it less off-putting. Just a bit.”

“So, then . . .” Brandon, elaborately casual. “You would not mind, then, if Therese were to appear out in such a rig as that?”

Dev does not bat an eye. “Not only would I mind, I’d probably lock her in the broom closet. Or if I did not, someone would. The law these days takes a dim view of putting all the goods in the shop window, as it were. Speaking of which, Christopher, where is your goddess this evening? I saw you two come in but she seems to have gotten lost in the crush. You shouldn’t leave her alone, especially looking as she does tonight.”

So he has seen it too, thinks Brandon. It is clear to him that a friendly compliment has just been paid, and he returns Dev’s smile, but feels himself energized for the search once again. “You think your Therese is safe then, do you?”

Now it is Dev’s turn to look slightly perturbed. “Now that you come to mention it, no. Probably not. Especially if she’s met up somewhere with your Mary Anne, or Renie, or Cindie, or Claudia, or all of the above. Who knows what they might get up to? I should say we have no time to lose!”

This last, delivered with a look of mock dismay, heartens Brandon considerably. The two men exit the side gallery at a brisk walk, circling the main reception floor in search of Mary Anne and Therese.

MA
Cindie, you talkin' to me? Are you talkin' to ME? ;-), - Sunday, May 18, 2003 at 19:34:09 (PDT)

I was there, at John Phillips as each cloak was being purchased. Both times.
Hans
- Sunday, May 18, 2003 at 16:14:35 (PDT)

Off Set - The Beastly Museum Affair:

Ultimately she decided that, tempting as it was, spending the rest of the evening in the ladies’ lounge was not really the most mature manner to handle her current situation. It did cross her mind that the organizers had missed a bet in not stocking the lounge with the bottled fortitude that was currently flowing so freely in other parts of the museum. After another pause at the mirror she composed her outer self and left the ladies’ room. She didn’t look for Mistral just yet. Instead she headed over to the entry room of the museum where the water fountain sprayed and burbled. Leaning against the railing she stared into the froth and tried to imagine Mistral and the devil creature together. The images came much too easily. She could picture them now, promenading around the room, making witty and wicked remarks, laughing together, exchanging knowing looks and then stealing off…

She wished she’d seen the other woman that had been party to that little conversation in the ladies’ room. She couldn’t imagine comparing notes like that over a man. It was crass and …nasty. Admittedly her own experience did not lend itself to such conversations, perhaps she was naïve. Maybe that was how it was for most people. But then she tried to imagine her friends having that sort of conversation and her mind failed her. No, it wasn’t right. And the fact that the object of their dissection was the man in whose company she had begun to spend almost all of her free time honed the disconcertion to a knife’s edge. Considering the intimate topic of the exchange it hadn’t been very personal. It didn’t sound as if any of it was personal and that simply added to the feeling of wrongness. He didn’t stay long… What the hell was that supposed to mean? Her mind skittered away from that thought and she tried to focus instead on how he’d looked at her earlier this evening when she’d met him in front of her flat. The focus stubbornly returned to the overheard comment; it had come from the other voice, the woman she hadn’t seen. So there were two of them. The devil creature and another, yet unseen by her. Who was it? Were there more? Had he slept with every woman here?

She took a deep breath and asked herself if it mattered.

And concluded that it did. Very much.

“You again, whatever has happened to your escort?”

Turning and settling her back against the railing Cindie was face to face with her. It appeared that after her remarks designed to be overheard she’d been waiting for Cindie to emerge from the lounge.

The bony, black clad, evil, and utterly gorgeous creature stood barely three feet away. She looked like an art deco painting as her glance swept down her nose at Cindie and glistened scorn and superiority. Taking measured steps she walked a quarter circle around the woman she had described as Little Miss Lotus Mouse and stopped at the edge of the fountain.

Cindie wanted to ignore her and leave but found herself rooted to the spot. She wasn’t going to run away. She would handle this with dignity. “I couldn’t say. I left him to chat with some friends.”

“Do you think that’s wise? You really shouldn’t take your eyes off that one. He’s liable to settle in on some other prey, if you should prove too much trouble.”

“I am not prey.” Cindie managed to keep her voice steady but the response sounded limp and stupid.

“Of course you’re not. That only lasts a little while. Tell me, did you enjoy it, when he bagged you? He can be very intense, but he takes care to devote full attention to his feast.”

Confused, Cindie didn’t answer immediately. As realization hit she felt a flush creep up her throat and face. The woman took in Cindie’s expression and a slow thin lipped snarl began to form as realization dawned. “But you don’t know do you? You’ve never had him in your bed,” she went on with certainty, “you don’t have any idea what HE’s like.”

The way this woman spoke the masculine pronoun made Cindie wince. “I have a better idea of what he’s like than you ever will.”

“Of course you do.” This Jessica woman had honed mocking to an art form, suitable for their surroundings. “He’s shown you the real man. No doubt he’s told you all about me and his string of pelts.”

“Look, I don’t know who you are and I don’t really care…”

She cut Cindie off with razor words and poised as if to strike, “But you do care. I can see…”

Now it was the devil creature’s turn to be interrupted by a voice of quiet control that worked its way under Cindie’s skin like a sliver. “That will be enough, Jessica.”

The other woman didn’t turn around and Cindie saw the eyes spark emerald as his steel met with her flint. She was literally standing between him and his little date and that she felt in a position of power was unmistakable.

Cindie looked past her to see Mistral directly over the black clad shoulder standing only a few yards away. She was tempted to run to him but there was a diamond drenched provocateur in her path along with everything she represented.

His voice continued, “and if you’re thinking of making a scene, and I know you are, do consider the light in which you would be portrayed in this matter.” So quiet. So chilling.

“Is that how you see it, Arthur? Not afraid of a little scandal are you?”

“Do not test your theories on that point. You would regret it, I assure you.” His voice was cold menace. Cindie could see his expression, unlike the woman with whom she faced off who seemed focused inward, her back to him but aquiver with barely tethered excitement. His face was as cut marble, that implacable and that hard. “I will not permit you to gratify yourself at our expense tonight. And I believe there is the small matter of your pending divorce?”

The green eyes narrowed at that casually dropped inquiry and some of the tension seemed to leave her body. “How did you know about that?”

“I make it a point to keep abreast of what’s happening in your life.” A coaxing warmth infused his tone now and Cindie found that more disconcerting that his previous coldness. Her own posture stiffened now and she saw a smug smile form itself on the devil creature’s lips.

“It’s good to know you care, Arthur.” There was no warmth to her tone.

Despite the relaxing of the other woman’s posture Cindie was ready when she made her move.

Cindie
Lee, lucky cloak. ;-)
Hey youze guys, post something won't you? , - Sunday, May 18, 2003 at 14:51:23 (PDT)

They both turned to see Madam Trelawney standing behind them in another passageway of the restricted section. Her owlish eyes were the size of dinner plates today as she cautiously stalked toward them.

“Professor Snape, Your aura’s have the red prismatic light, you will die in 40 days if you don’t mind the curse.”
She said in a mysterious manor that anyone would find difficult to take seriously.
“What?” Snape started to say but Madam Trelawney had already fled.

“Who was that?’ Gwenevere said to Snape with a puzzled expression.

“That…was Madam Trelawney, the Divination teacher. You won’t see her very often because she stays in her classroom near the owlry most of the time. She has a habit of predicting doom upon everyone.”

Snape stood staring for a moment as if suddenly he was very deep in thought.
“Professor Snape, are you alright?”
“Yes, of course I am. I think we’re finished in here for today.”
He said trying to think of a reason not to be.

His eyes reluctantly parted company with hers, and glanced at the antique timepiece she conveniently wore, giving his eyes cause for a celebration.
“Yes, unfortunately I must get back to Gringotts now. Friday is my last day, so there is much work to be done.” She said.

“Will you be moving to Hogwarts soon then?”

“Yes, on Saturday, the second floor.”

“We’ll be neighbors, I’m on the second floor as well. You can come and borrow a cup of sugar” Snape quipped.

“Well, it won’t be sugar I’m afraid. Maybe a cup of your delicious tea perhaps”
Do stop it Gwenevere. You’re incorrigible! She scolded herself.
“Any time… Professor Collins.“
Snape said in his silkiest voice, causing her butterflies to stir once again.
They slowly walked to the first floor, the long way.

Gwenevere arrived back at Gringotts absolutely knowing that her cloak rested idle next to his, on the antique solid- brass cloak rack in his office.
Lee
- Sunday, May 18, 2003 at 04:37:45 (PDT)

They walked slowly to the library chatting about the research papers required for Potions class. Once there, Snape introduced Professor Collins to Madam Pince, the librarian. She looked over her glasses at them with interest as they entered the restricted section.
Professor Snape led her to where the Potions books were kept at the back of the room.

“The Potions books are located in three different areas of the restricted section owing to the need to make it more difficult for the inexperienced to find books that could contain dangerous information in them.
Some of the books carry a PM5 rating, but you won’t necessarily know which ones they are until you get to checkout, they are not labeled.
If you do need a PM5, Madam Pince will hold the book until I sign for it.”

They moved to another section containing historical and archival books.

“This is the section you will need, to research the first project.”
He said quietly, standing slightly behind her and very close.
He carefully reached for a book, causing the minute gap between them to close. The scent of her hair triggered vivid recall.

“This is a good one”
She continued to scan titles asking him to reach a second book from the same shelf, choosing not to acknowledge the reason why she didn’t just reach for it herself.

“Excellent.” He purred very near to her ear.

“Professor Snape!”To be continued...
Lee
Thank you so much, Janine. :), - Saturday, May 17, 2003 at 06:07:45 (PDT)

Thank you Lee I am really enjoying the fluidity and poeticness (Is that a real word) of your work.
Janine <janinels@optusnet.com.aufoo.foothingy.thing>
- Saturday, May 17, 2003 at 00:30:31 (PDT)

“So, Professor Collins, what do you do when you are not sitting in the front row of my Potions class listening to me lecture?’

She contemplated the question.
She was accustomed to men holding eye contact, testing the waters to determine her availability, but something was different about Professor Snape; he fell into no such Category of men she had ever met.
The eye contact was much different; it was not the result of inane surface attractiveness.
During class last evening, they were strongly connecting with their minds. The hour and a half lecture and question session seemed to pass instantly for her, she was completely absorbed in the lecture material and all sense of time stopped. She couldn’t drink in the information fast enough; she felt as though her mind had been in hibernation since her Grandfather’s death and was suddenly awakened by Professor Snape, his instruction was her Holy Grail.
There was also something particularly alluring about him She felt strangely as though she had met her match; their thought patterns were identical.

“I am gainfully employed at Gringotts.”She answered,
hoping he would choose to probe further.
“Specifically?” Snape was quite confident.
“I was in charge of International Large Account Transfers and Acquisitions. Mostly working with foreign governments.”

She said, matter of fact.
Snape’s curiosity piqued all the more however he kept it strict confidence.

“Past tense?” Snape asked, deviously prying.
Gwenevere had finished her tea and was admiring Snape’s heavy antique bookcases with beveled glass doors.

“Yes, even though I enjoyed working at Gringotts, my career was staring to become mundane for me so I decided the time was right to follow what's truly interested me my whole life.

I was just admiring your exquisite library…may I?”
She said, changing the subject.
“Of course.” Snape said, recognizing the diversionary tactic.

They walked past the fireplace and over to the bookcases. Snape opened glass doors using an antique skeleton key he retrieved from the top pocket of his coat.
They stood unnecessarily close, as Gwenevere scanned the titles.
“May I see that one?”
she asked pointing to a very old Potions book in the middle.
Gwenevere took out a pair of white archival research gloves, which she brought today knowing there would be very old and valuable books in the restricted section of the library. She was well schooled in archival research procedures.
She opened it and carefully and turned pages looking through formulas of ancient potions and drafts.

“That book was written by 'Victor' Collins. Any relation?”
Snape said almost as a joke.
“Yes… one of his earlier works. He was my Great, Great Grandfather.”She said absent-mindedly.

Snape felt a sudden jolt in his gut. Victor Collins the third, her Grandfather, was almost certainly the greatest Potions Master ever lived.
Snape also knew of the circumstances surrounding the murder of her father.
“With that kind of rich heritage I shall expect great things from you in my Potions class.”
He was trying to sound nonchalant, but wasn’t sure if he had succeeded.
“We shall see...”
“Don’t hesitate to come to me if you wish to borrow books from my personal library, Professor Collins.”
He calmly offered, once again meeting her eyes with his.
“Thank you Professor Snape.”
We had better get to the library now as I’m sure you haven’t got all day to spend.”

. I could easily make the time to spend all day with you. He thought to himself.
Lee
Feeling a bit lonely. anyone there?, - Friday, May 16, 2003 at 06:26:29 (PDT)

Boots sauntered over and flopped down under a small table where an alembic stood, set- up and operating.
The lamp was lit, and the cucurbit held amber liquid. There was clear liquid in the receiver. A vision of her Grandfather’s lab flickered in Gwenevere’s memory.

“How do you take your tea?”

“Milk, please.” She said, as black eyes met blue once again.
Milk was carefully added to each cup and a quarter tsp. sugar in one. He then gave the pot one stir and poured the flawlessly brewed tea.

“Thank you.” She said, as she sipped her tea.
“Umm…I am impressed. Although, a Potions Master five would brew the best cup of tea you’ve ever had wouldn’t he?

Snape regarded her. She was beginning to intrigue him.
She has obviously done her homework, so perhaps I shall begin mine…He thought.
Lee
- Thursday, May 15, 2003 at 06:19:26 (PDT)

On Tuesday afternoon, at two minutes ‘till four o’clock Gwenevere was standing at Snape’s office door ready to knock when the door suddenly opened revealing the mysterious tall dark Potions Wizard inside. His expression reminded her of the Mona Lisa.
They immediately established the same gripping eye contact as yesterday. Snape noticed her eyes were a vivid blue today causing him to hold the gaze perhaps a bit longer than a gentleman should, but then again, he was no gentleman.
Gwenevere remembered yesterday’s headache and was almost reluctant to look away.

“Professor Collins, you’re right on time today I see.” He said with mock sarcasm.

Gwenevere smiled slightly and entered his office at his gesture.

“Would you like some tea?”

“ Yes, thank you I would love some. It is my usual tea time as well.” She said politely.

“May I take your cloak?” he asked.”

“Thank you.”

He stepped behind her and carefully slid the cloak from her shoulders. As he did so, he did not notice the tiny thread-like red prisms of light shaped like miniature lightning bolts dancing off of his fingers. He felt tiny shocks but assumed it was static electricity.
Gwenevere felt the shocks as well, along with the butterflies in her stomach. This surprises her, as it was unlike like her to develop any such feelings for people so quickly.
The scent of Gwenevere’s shampoo caught Snape off guard, like a rare, unexpected pleasure.
He followed her to the table at the center of his office where he had already brewed tea.
She was wearing an expensive, well-fitting black dress that looked as if it had been custom made for her. It flattered her every asset, which were abundant to say the least.

Probably John Phillips of London…he thought.
The exclusive clothier catered to the well heeled, those who traveled in executive circles.
Snape knew it well as it was where he bought most of his clothes. His white Slytherin shirts were all custom made there.
Lee
- Wednesday, May 14, 2003 at 05:24:16 (PDT)

EUREKA!"
"Former searcher"
- Tuesday, May 13, 2003 at 12:07:06 (PDT)

Barbara didn't sat it, puppet-brain said it.
Searcher of the most enormous understatement in the universe. <Bookofuniversalrecords@epitome.com>
- Tuesday, May 13, 2003 at 12:02:00 (PDT)

How can you say that?? "ALMOST SEXY"??? He is really THE sexiest of all!!
Jady <LovelyJay_mizzgurly@hotmail.com>
Sexy Sexy Sexy SNAPE!!!, - Tuesday, May 13, 2003 at 09:54:42 (PDT)

As Snape began to lecture, Gwenevere immediately recognized the timing and rhythm of an accomplished communicator who possessed a comprehensive understanding of the subject.
His deep, silky voice smoothly paused, to emphasize the most important points.
Gwenevere didn’t take excessive notes, instead focusing on comprehension and recall.
Boots was sitting on the table next to Gwenevere watching Snape pace the room as he spoke. His summation of Snape was that of bored indignation.

After listening to almost two mesmerizing hours of pure potions wisdom, Gwenevere’s gaze followed Snape as he returned to his desk.
He was penning notes on parchment while the students gathered books to leave. Without looking up from his work Snape issued final instructions.

“Class dismissed, I will see you all back here on Wednesday night. Professor Collins I need to see you before you go.“
As the last student left the dungeon, Gwenevere approached Snape’s desk. She was neither timid nor bold as she did so.

” Yes, professor Snape”
Her voice, the female counterpart of his.
Snape stood as she approached; they were nearly eye-to-eye.

“Here is the syllabus,” he handed her the parchment “Your lab partner dropped the class, so I will need to assist you during the lab work.”

“Splendid. I shall see you tomorrow at four o’clock then.”

He searched her expression, trying to interpret her reaction, but was unable to do so. >br>She smiled at him for a brief moment then turned and left the dungeon.
He followed her out - with his eyes.
Lee
BtW funny show, but "ALMOST SEXY?" HELLO? Sack that particular script writer ,who has no clue., - Tuesday, May 13, 2003 at 07:30:11 (PDT)

Barbara--

"Almost"? ;-)

MA
That was too hilarious!, - Tuesday, May 13, 2003 at 06:00:24 (PDT)

Too much fun:

http://www.jerrythefrogproductions.com/HarryPotter.html

Handpuppet version of Harry Potter and the Sorceror's Stone, the movie.

Or click on my name to link....
Barbara the Wallpaperer
Snape is "so diabolically British, it's almost sexy.", - Monday, May 12, 2003 at 22:18:18 (PDT)

At the instant eye contact was broken, Gwenevere felt a searing pain shoot through her eyes and into her heart causing her momentary blindness, then blurred vision for seven seconds.
It affected Snape as well. He heard a sudden rushing sound in his ears and was experiencing vertigo.
Instinctively he quietly braced against the desk so he wouldn’t fall.
Professor Dumbledore sensed that something was wrong.
As If from another dimension, Snape heard echoes of himself engaged in a conversation with professors Dumbledore and Collins about his class and Hogwarts School.
Time seemed to be proceeding at a slightly slower pace than normal, causing him to loose track of it.
He heard Professor Dumbledore suggest he show Professor Collins around the staff and restricted sections of the library, owing to her acute interest in Potions. Snape then heard himself making an appointment for her to meet him at his office tomorrow at four o’clock.

Professor Dumbledore feared that what was happening to Snape and Professor Collins was not from friendly sources, so he continued the conversation until he was sure that they were both sufficiently recovered.
Snape moved from behind the desk and was standing with Professors Dumbledore and Collins now.
“Severus?” Dumbledore asked, as he looked at Snape with concern.
Snape nodded and turned to Professor Collins.
He glanced at the heirloom and noted the time, as they shook hands, once again establishing the magnetic eye contact that completely cleared them of all previous symptoms.
“I think it’s safe to leave you now.” Professor Dumbledore said as he turned to leave the dungeon.
“Thank you, Head master “ Snape said as he indicated where Gwenevere should sit.
Lee <Lets party every saturday night@the bottomless whiskey barrel.>
You are a tough act to follow Magda! Excellent!, - Monday, May 12, 2003 at 06:31:00 (PDT)

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

"Here you go, sir. All the records for the past eight years."

The clerk dropped the bundle of papers on my desk with a thud. A cloud of dust wafted gently into the air and tickled my nose. He stepped back hastily, fearful that I would blame him for the affront. He needn't have worried. I was already yanking the ribbon off the bundle and unrolling the contents. Candles guttering on their stands as I held the pages closer to get a better light. The third note lay on the desk beside me, available if I found something promising to compare writing samples against.

Once I got over the shock of finding the blasted thing, the conviction that I had seen that handwriting before took hold of me stronger than ever. It wasn't something that I saw on a daily basis, of that I was sure; therefore none of my own clerks had sent it (fortunately for them and their assorted body parts). After a few hours spent checking, I was sure it wasn't similar to that of any of the various lords and knights around the shire who sent reports a few times a year. In particular, I had spent a great deal of time examining the correspondence from Locksley manor but finally had to admit reluctantly that there was no similarity. The royal proclamations from the king's scribes could also be ruled out.

So where had I seen that exact handwriting before?

I sat back in my chair and pressed my hands over my eyes. Obviously the author of those threatening notes did not write to me on official business or there would be records of it. Also obviously, he did not write to me often or I would remember. No, the real reason I was sure I had seen the handwriting before was that the last time - perhaps the only time - I had seen it, danger had been present. The author of the notes was capable of anything, of that I was sure. It was imperative that I find him. I leaned forward again and reached for another bundle of letters.

The knock on the door sounded loud in the silence. It tickled my temper so that I snapped the command "Enter!" The clerks cowered behind their writing tables and moaned quietly.

The door opened and Leofric stood on the threshold. "Good day, sir. If you have some time to spare, I'd like to make a report concerning the - " He paused significantly. "The assignment you gave me yesterday."

"Ah, yes. Excellent." I shoved the papers out of the way. Leofric had obviously lost no time in carrying out my orders. No doubt the guilty man was already languishing in the dungeons waiting his fate. I clasped my hands into fists in case they trembled in my eagerness to rend the villain limb from limb. "What have you got to tell me?"

"Well, sir. You should know that I personally spoke to everyone who works in the castle. First I tackled the senior servants about their own movements and the orders they gave to their underlings. Then I talked to all the underlings and compared their stories to see if any of them didn't match up. And I'm afraid that I have to say," He paused again, but this time his manner was apologetic. "That none of them could have done it."

For a moment you could have heard a pin drop. I stared at him, fighting the astonishment that held me mute. "Are you telling me that every single servant and retainer has a solid excuse for the entire evening?"

"Yes sir." Leofric nodded. "That's about the size of it."

"It's a plot! They're all in it together!" I surged to my feet. Behind me, my chair hit the floor with a crash. "Haul them down to the dungeon right now and we'll find the truth soon enough!"

"Now, now, sir." He held his hands out in front of him in a calming gesture. "You're getting all riled up for naught. It was just your servants that I eliminated, sir. There are still the retainers that Lord and Lady Locksley brought with them. And those that came with the ladies from France, although I don't think it could be any of them and besides they're all moved down to the town."

I leaned over my desk, fists clenched hard. "Locksley's retainers?"

"Aye." He nodded. "I wanted to talk to you before I tackled them on account of it might be difficult getting any answers out of them, even the innocent ones, if Lord Locksley won't let them talk to me. Should I ask him first before I gets going?"

It was a very good question. I fell back into my chair and considered the options. Asking permission was out of the question; Locksley would refuse without a moment's hesitation. This called for a more authoritative approach. I reached for a blank piece of parchment and dipped my quill into the inkpot. The room was silent save for the sound of the quill scratching over the page. Finally I threw it down, sanded the page and wafted it carefully in the air to dry the ink before handing it to Leofric. "Here you are. An official order from me to Locksley commanding him to instruct his retainers to answer your questions."

Leofric permitted himself a grin as he carefully rolled up the parchment. "Aye, sir. That will do the trick, I'm thinking."

"It certainly will." I leaned back in my chair and regarded him for some seconds. Perhaps this was the right time to ask about those unknown men who'd eaten in my hall last night. "Speaking of retainers, Leofric, we seem to have acquired at least a dozen more men-at-arms that I was not aware of."

"You mean the extra men at supper?" He stuck the scroll into his belt and nodded again. "What with all the fuss I haven't had a chance to tell you about them."

I propped my elbows on the table. "Take the time now."

"Yes, sir." His manner was easy and confident. "Well, I'm not denying you've got a good group of men on hand; for a shire this size and a castle this big, they do a right good job. But what with the ladies from France being here and then moving down into town, Lord Locksley and all his people from his manor that he brought with him and his lady, and the king coming in a few days - well, sir, it occurred to me that we could use some extra hands around the place for a while."

"Really?" I inquired gently. It sounded rather presumptuous to me; perhaps Joya was right about him.

"Yes, sir." He nodded. "Now then, it being winter and not time to worry about spring planting, I thought I could take on some of the local farmers as temporary retainers and turn them loose on such things as hunting down those outlaws in the forest. They knows the woods well and probably knows the outlaws too, and since its some extra coin in their pockets, it buys you some goodwill in the shire. I hope I didn't overstep my authority, sir."

I considered. It was undeniably true that my well-trained men-at-arms had never yet managed to find anything larger than a hare in Sherwood Forest. So much for "professional" soldiers. Perhaps Leofric's underemployed farmers could do some good but I wasn't convinced that they wouldn't be more expense than they were worth.

Leofric interrupted my musing. "In fact, sir, they've already managed to bring some vagrants in. They're in the dungeon now; about half a dozen of them. Not sure if they're actual outlaws or just some unlucky poachers but they're here in the castle."

I sat up with a jerk. Forest dwellers captured? Excitement thrilled along my nerves. The idea that they were merely poachers I dismissed instantly; no one would dare trap animals in a forest belonging to me. No, these men were definitely outlaws, probably including the men who'd attacked me on my return from Winchester. Another thought struck me. Was it possible that one of the captured men was Will Scarlet?

The force of my emotions pulled me to my feet. Leofric stepped back respectfully. I ignored him and paced across the room. If that were the case, then I had the perfect weapon to hold over Locksley, not only regarding an approach to the king but in every other way as well. There was nothing Locksley would not do to prevent his brother from being hung. Even if Scarlet wasn't in the dungeon, some of the captured men might know where to find him and I was prepared to give free pardons in exchange for the information. Or at least to offer the pardons; it was highly unlikely that I would actually give them out. But the outlaws wouldn't know that, of course.

I rubbed my hands together happily. What a great coup this was! So involved was I in my plans that Leofric had to cough several times before I finally heard him. I looked around. "Yes? What is it?"

"If you don't need me anymore, sir, I'll just be off." He patted the scroll tucked into his belt. "I'd like to see Lord Locksley before the supper hour. Then I can talk to his people this evening."

"Good idea." I smiled at the man. Really, he was a most excellent deputy. While not perhaps intelligent by Joya's standards, he was clever and knew how to take initiative. When spring came, I would have to make him an attractive offer so he'd stay on with me. I could always use good men.

Magda
Okay, back to The Real Thing now and from the looks of it not a moment too soon, - Monday, May 12, 2003 at 05:42:08 (PDT)

“Snape…please, the sound of your robes scraping the carpet is ear-deafening.
Please just place the anti-hangover potion on the table “quietly” thank you.
You are dismissed…and please

don’t slam the door!

*hic* BRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP Oh, pardon me. Could somebody please fetch my pants?
Col. Brandon at-ease (especially if you glance southwards) <I'manewmanalbeitpantless@Kate'sboudoir.com>
- Monday, May 12, 2003 at 01:37:58 (PDT)

Actually, I blame Colonel Brandon for setting the pace. That man can put away some booze!
A Party crashing wench.
- Sunday, May 11, 2003 at 18:54:09 (PDT)

I think the party is over.
Back to your regular programming...
Sinclair
I do believe we'll have to serve non-alcoholic beverages next time!, - Sunday, May 11, 2003 at 18:14:51 (PDT)

Hey!!! It's an overloaded truckfull of spam!! Run away!!!
A Concerned Viewer
Oh my..., - Sunday, May 11, 2003 at 17:34:10 (PDT)

Happy Mothers Day !

Dobby is a house-elf. Dobby does not do muggles. Dobby does WINKY.
The House Elf Sex Slave Liberation Front
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 22:51:29 (PDT)

Good night all it's been real!
Dobby
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 22:21:10 (PDT)

Dobby, bring my pianoforte back to dellaford now. It's not too heavy is it? Oh I;m feeling queasy.
Brandon
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 22:10:13 (PDT)

Yer on!!! Ah dunno wha gender tha elf is dough...fraid to look undah tha hood. Mushket ish cockt an readyyyyyyyyyy ta go!
Colonel Mushtard in tha lyeberry wif a mushket...a BIIIIIIIIG mushket
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 22:09:02 (PDT)

And if you think that elf is riding the threeway freeway with us .. well, he is kinda cute. Load the musket Daddy!
Kate
Up for anything, - Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 22:05:07 (PDT)

Oh, Colonel baby, you know I'll take you back, no matter what. I'm co-dependent with a capital C! The porch light is on and the eiderdown's down, as are my undergarments. Try not to throw up on the carpet.
Kate
I like them big, drunk and senile, - Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 22:03:51 (PDT)

Potter! Get your hands off my wife this instant! Come along Narcissa, we're going home now...and bring those with you. Brandon, Dobby's got your pants so now he's your elf.
Narcissa-in-demand-malfoy
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 22:03:30 (PDT)

Well ahm jus the wors of libahtinesh. *sigh* Ah hope Maryyanne will be hap-py wif Willoboy. An Kayte, I'm shorry da'lin! Ahma comin home!!!
Colonel Repentanence Brandon
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 21:55:35 (PDT)

Is that Dobby's sock, or you just glad to see me?
Lucius-walk-on-the-wild-side-Malfoy
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 21:39:28 (PDT)

Thas how I like em too....Righ, Lucie?
The half-nekkid and very cold (it would seem) Colonel
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 21:36:26 (PDT)

I seem to be leaning toward big bosomed women.
Harry
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 21:32:07 (PDT)

Who kneesh pansh an shocksh?? All-I knee is luf, sweeeee luf.
Big Brandon
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 21:30:55 (PDT)

Has anyone seen Brandon's trousers and socks? we are leaving.
Mr. Malfoy
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 21:27:40 (PDT)

Oh, I don't mind if you're into, er, kinky things. I was just wondering if perhaps Madam Rosmerta could join us?
Harry how-does-that-saying-go-two-bushes-in-the-hand-is-better-than-two-birds??? P.
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 21:25:29 (PDT)

No, but I do rather fancy Mrs. Robinson very much.
Mrs. Malfoy
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 21:22:42 (PDT)

Um, Mrs. Malfoy, there's this movie I like a whole lot, maybe you've seen it? Um, "The Graduate"? Just think of me as a younger, studlier Dustin Hoffman. *hopeful grin*

I was hoping we could blow this joint soon...?
Harry Potter <HedwiggetmyassignmentstomorrowifallgoeswellIwon'tbebacktillnextweek!>
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 21:19:38 (PDT)

At least I think that is why he needs it.
Narcissa
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 21:17:16 (PDT)

That midget is NOT drunk, he is like that all the time. He's only looking for his lost sock so that he doesn't have to go back to Lucius.
Narcissa
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 21:14:13 (PDT)

Thish ish on'y a two horsh town whare goin to, buddddddy. Tha elf in tha cornah looksh awf'lly loneshume, dough.
Colonel Yeah-I'm-Getting-Lucky Brandon
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 21:11:51 (PDT)

We have so much in common. My wife is frigid too. My friend can hitch-hike us anywhere we want to go.
David
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 21:11:11 (PDT)

Oh, for God's sake. Someone get the drunken midget out of the piano! Since I seem to be the only divine eminence here, I guess I'll have to do the cleaning up, too. *snap* There, well, I hope everyone appreciates the ANGEL's contributions. You'd bloody well better buy me a drink next time! ALL of you!
The Voice of Hangovers
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 21:09:30 (PDT)

Lucius, Brandon-not so fast. can one more play? I have a friend.
David Weinberg
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 21:08:49 (PDT)

For God's sake Brandon you fool! Take your hands off me, pull up your trousers, and let's go!!!
Lucius
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 21:04:23 (PDT)

I'm getting the house and all the dark arts implements, I'll have you know!!! Good riddance, LUCYius!
Narcissa
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 21:04:09 (PDT)

Lushious Lucie! Why, youf mayde me da happiest lush in alla Englan! Da'lin, c'mere and plan a big, juishy weh one on me.
Colonel isn lif gran Brandon
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 21:02:01 (PDT)

Digusting Potter, naturally. Good night all!! It has been an interesting evening.
Lucius
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 21:01:41 (PDT)

Oh really Brandon my boy, there's nothing worse than a bloody drunk on a horse. Pull up your trousers.
Middleton
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 21:01:25 (PDT)

Um, I think Dobby's been using it for illicit purposes, but I've got a spare in my pocket. Mrs. Malfoy, I've admired you from afar for a long time now... I, uh, think we're going to have to get a room in The Leaky Cauldron Inn, though, because there's this restriction on visitors in the dormitory, see.
Harry YES!!! Potter
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 20:59:41 (PDT)

Bradon, come, let us be friends and speed our way to Hogsmeade!!! I shall show you sights you have never seen before. Let us off into the ever darkening night and drink to our hearts content. Hurry up Sot!!! Time's awastin' . . .
Lucius
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 20:59:22 (PDT)

Harry, maybe you will have better luck than I did warming her up a bit. Here try these.
lucius
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 20:57:05 (PDT)

Noooooooooooooo! You jush can leaf me like thish! Marianne will nevah take me bahck n' Kate'sh mad at me fer fallin offa da wagin. *sniff sniff* Shumbody pash me tha blashted shock!
Colonel Heartbreak
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 20:56:39 (PDT)

She's all yours Harry!!!
Lucius
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 20:55:25 (PDT)

Sod-off Brandon
lucius
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 20:54:23 (PDT)

All right, all right! I wish I'd never come to this place...what a waste of time and galleons. Here, ma'am. Since you're divorcing Mr. Malfoy, I don't suppose you'd like a little company tonight...a shoulder to cry on?
H -stands-for-hopeful Potter
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 20:53:48 (PDT)

Ahem, I mean't when YOU'RE not blotto.
Lucius
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 20:53:27 (PDT)

Why, Brandon, do you like my hair?? It is pretty, isn't it?? You have pretty hair too . . . WHEN YOUR NOT BLOTTO!!
Lucius
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 20:52:24 (PDT)

Harry, give that woman a sock to blow her nose!!!
Alexandar
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 20:51:19 (PDT)

Lucish, you remind meee of a girl I knew long ago, before i went into da armeeee.
Brandon
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 20:50:17 (PDT)

You dare to call me human?? I have never been so insulted in my entire life!! Beware, Angel, when you next see the Dark Mark!!

Wench!! The number of heads my cane has is none of your business.

What am I doing here. Get me my sock back from Brandon!! I'm leaving this place.
Lucius
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 20:49:53 (PDT)

Eeeeeeee! I knew it! I knew it! I sit at home watching your brat of a child and THIS is the thanks I get?!? I want a divorce, do you hear me?! *waaaaaah* Has anybody got a hankie?
Narcissa M.
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 20:49:53 (PDT)

Lushious Lucie...ish tha you, shweetie poofkinsh? Errrr. Nah body here jush her me shay tha.
Colonel I-love-a-man-with-flowing-blond-hair Brandon
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 20:47:20 (PDT)

I seem to missing my socks, has anyone seen them?
Harry
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 20:46:25 (PDT)

Tell me, pathetic human, is the name Lucius? Yes, I see, well, tell me just what makes you so certain that muggles have created this mess? Did you ever stop to think that maybe, just maybe, an ANGEL got a bit tetchy after some idiot midget drooled all over his drink and then, perhaps, the ANGEL had to get a bit...oh...righteously angry and stir up a little tornado to remind you (pathetic) humans of your place in the cosmic hierarchy??!
Metatron, the Voice of bourbon, scotch, and gin
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 20:44:36 (PDT)

How many heads does the cane come with?
wench
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 20:43:49 (PDT)

And a lovely cane it is indeed . . .
MuggleWench
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 20:42:45 (PDT)

Get your grimy hands off my silver walking cane that really holds my wand you filthy wench
lucius
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 20:40:50 (PDT)

Brandon!! Please, it embarrasses me so when you sing about me like that!! And in front of all these people!
Lucius
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 20:39:36 (PDT)

It'll do!
A very happy Wench no. 5
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 20:38:52 (PDT)

Shtupid shock...p'ple don know how ta mahke a deshent shock anymoooooorrre. Joy me inna rousin ko-rus ah mah fa-vor-ite sang...

Ev'ry laydie's crashy bou a sharp dresht maaaaaannnnnnn.
Colonel MC Brandon
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 20:37:18 (PDT)

My rubber head wench, my rubber head.
Alexandar
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 20:37:15 (PDT)

Who said pathetic? Yes, I look all around me and see the pathetic mess you muggles have made of this place. Drunken rabble rousers, you disgust me. Er, has anyone seen my house elf? He is carrying around a rather dirty sock.
Lucius <TheDarkMark>
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 20:36:22 (PDT)

Why, Alex! Whatever would Severus say?? (I think he's too out-of-it to notice, honestly.) So, did the aliens give you any, er, pleasuring devices?
Wench no. 5
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 20:33:33 (PDT)

Brandon trying to clean the pianoforte with the sock, how pathrtic.
willoughby
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 20:32:07 (PDT)

Um, Dobby, do you know who that man with the large muggle killing instrument is? Why is he giving me dirty looks? Perhaps we should buy him a butterbeer before he kills us?!?
Harry eeek! Potter
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 20:30:49 (PDT)

Well, you'd be amazed at the things I can do with my rubber head!! Come to your buckin bronco baby . . .
Alexandar
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 20:30:42 (PDT)

Is that Hans over there with the lint brush?
Roy
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 20:28:29 (PDT)

Yes you do, Alexander! That rubber head has to go, but I'll take the rest of you right here and now, my strapping space cowboy!
Wench no. 5
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 20:28:20 (PDT)

Brandon---drop that sock this instant!!! Drunken sot!
Elinor
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 20:27:52 (PDT)

By Grapthar's Hammar, I have lovely biceps, do I not??
Alexander (not Alex)
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 20:26:38 (PDT)

Dearest Sev, you spend so much time with those other Wenches, and now, here you are drinking, carousing, and smoking whatever is handed to you, what is a Wench to do but seek solace elsewhere . . .
A Wench
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 20:25:41 (PDT)

Why, yes, it would please me greatly.
A Wench
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 20:24:11 (PDT)

we are making a polyjuice potion for Lucius's pea soup. it has powdered dobby toenails.
Snape
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 20:23:49 (PDT)

Ma'am, Lucius is no longer my master. But I shall fetch that bas... Bad Dobby! Bad, bad Dobby! Pardon while I smash my head against the tap. There. I shall fetch the ex-master if it would please you.
Dobby is freeeeeeeeee!
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 20:19:08 (PDT)

Uhhhhhh...Ah thinksh iz tha herbal shtuff...for medishinail purp'ses. Yeah, thas rye. Ooopsh...did nah mean tah geh tha pyany weh.
Dam AA, dam rehab, onwar British soljer!
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 20:16:45 (PDT)

Pull yourself together wench. Unhand that elf
Harry P.
USA - Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 20:14:43 (PDT)

Good heavens, what's going on?
not your mother
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 20:13:25 (PDT)

what is that smell? Is someone burning bailing twine?
party crasher
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 20:10:53 (PDT)

Dobby, DOBBY Wait!!! Where is Lucius???? For God's Sake Man, TELL ME WHERE HE IS!!!
A Wench
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 20:08:03 (PDT)

My Gawsh!! I was checkin in on the Rickman Journal for a party and I missed the whole thing. I cannot believe it. Rats.
Dee
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 20:06:57 (PDT)

Oh Harry, I wouldn't use that sock if I were you. Do you know where that thing has been? Yes, you don't want to know, but it didn't get me a single date i tell you.
Dobby
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 20:05:07 (PDT)

Oh honestly Brandon! Look at the Pianoforte dripping with spilled bourbon. It will stain and ruin the wood.
Lee
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 20:01:27 (PDT)

Well, Dobby, it seems that you, me, that smashed gentleman in the red and white uniform, Professor Flitwick (who isn't looking so grand himself, either), and the fellow with the wings are the only ones left in the bar. And none of the ladies even noticed I was here. I'm...I'm...I'm never going to lose my virginity. *sob* Yes, thank you for the handkerchief...or is this a sock?
Little orphaned Harry
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 19:59:08 (PDT)

Wel...wel...welc'me, Lee! Yer a...a...a laydie, are yeh nah? Well, c'mah oveh heeeeeyre an make yershelf comfy on mah rejahmentil whys...ohhhhhhh yesh. Whare's tha kary-yo-key? Ah feel lahke singin!

Mem'ry...all lone in tha mooooonliiiiiight...Ah ken small ah tha ole daysh...Ah wash beeeeyooootiful then....Tha mem'ry ish faaaaadin....toush me!...Is so eazy ta leeeeeaaaaaf meeeeeeee....
Tha Colonel'sh Back In Tooooown
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 19:33:53 (PDT)

what have i missed?
Lee
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 19:26:52 (PDT)

The party rages on yet I alas must resume the identity of mum..happy mothers day to all. What were those wenches and characters chatting about in the corner?
Janine
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 19:03:12 (PDT)

It's late here, 2.15am and it has been a long day. You all will have to party on without me and Elyot. He's going to take me home and we'll see what happens from there. He's quite spliffed to say nothing of the booze and the dressing gown is looking quite the worse for wear. So I'm going to take it of him for renovation and put him to bed and then chuck ice water on him. That'll wake him up.Don't let Sev get too wasted and mind he saves me some for the morning. It's his best time. No more dancing and no prancing around with Wench#2.Carry on Revelling.Oh to live in the USA!
Wench #1
its late, I've got to get home soon, - Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 18:23:37 (PDT)

"Do not concern yourself with old batty when you can handle this" a sweet sly voice wispers in my ear.... "Oh it is you, Tybalt "you are a saucy boy." I reply amused. "You should seee his rapier" says Ed sarcasticly. A loud noise enters the Bar "OK.. Who broke the Party Out and forgot to tell me!" Hi Alex a few wenches yell with glee
Janine
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 18:15:51 (PDT)

He's so far gone he's to be addressed as if he was two different wizar's.
Severus
Laughing at Number 1, - Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 17:58:52 (PDT)

Hello Janine any new etching? "Now Sev you cheeky thing don't stir the wenches" What happened to Wench no 1 and watch outlook who is dancing with whoom.
Janine
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 17:57:17 (PDT)

Number 1, check it out! Severus looks downright giddy!
Sev
still outside laughing, - Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 17:56:17 (PDT)

I'll help you outside as you'll never make it under your own steam, Oh and don't tell Sev where we're going. He might want to come too.
Wench#1
being sidetracked from her main objective, - Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 17:45:49 (PDT)

Would you care for one of these natty little cigarettes that the Slytherins gave me, they have a psychedelic scent and go perfectly with the potion Severus made to give the Wenches so that no mistakes are made.Wench#1 can I tempt you from the Prof's side and we will go take a look at the moon over the water
Elyot Chase
throwing cushions at his onlookers, - Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 17:43:02 (PDT)

Oh Pleeaze..man that is not cool..says the young Bowie lookalike who jumps on stage with a lollypop in hand and starts to sing.."Your dirty and sweet.." (The TREX song.).with a small group of friends waving there lollypops about..Saying go Darkwolf. "What is that about?".. Ed asks.."Hmm it is some of the Baam people, I explain .. they love a party." Do not worry I am sure the wenches will tire them out
Janine
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 17:32:51 (PDT)

Looks like it's time for a break here for muggles to consume mass quantities. Hold the fort.
Wench #2
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 17:30:19 (PDT)

Number two, you've been promoted!
Sev
big big smile, - Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 17:28:05 (PDT)

"I can see clearly now, the rain is gone. All of the bad feeings have disappeared..."
Sev
singing, - Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 17:26:30 (PDT)

breaks into a big guffaw
Severus
Grin widening and widening and..., - Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 17:24:22 (PDT)

Listen to the music, my favourite Puddle of Mud song, let's see if you can dirty dance with a drink in each hand and one on your head. No not you Hans I'm talking to Wench#1, at least I think I am, it might be #2 OR #3 OR#4 OR#5. Can't see too cleearlyyyyyyyy.I better get my wand out just in case that brat comes back.
Prof ESS ESS
imbibing considerably more than is good for him, - Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 17:23:07 (PDT)

Hmm remind me to pop into tha Slytherine House sometime said Ed as he entered the bar. Two shots of your best firewater for Mr Materson here and what would you like Phil. Phil eyes the wenches and says ...a woman that .."Really fellers," I interject "do not treat the wenches as objects... unless they ask"
Janine (sorry I am late)
10.26 am Mothersday, - Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 17:22:52 (PDT)

Innnnnnnnnnhale...holds breath for just a tad. Exhale. I'm still not quite sure. Would you care if I were to investigate this a little further. Say (lifting eyebrows) three or for to---puffs more? Why, thank you.
Severus Snape
outside under stars, next to beautiful wench, - Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 17:22:36 (PDT)

Sometimes one can detect the basic nature of an herb by, mmm, breathing it in...much as Ed was doing. Allow me to examine this substance.
Wench #2
curiously, - Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 17:18:56 (PDT)

This is oddly-familiar. I do believe that it's that incense the Slytherins are always burning right before I come through the commonroom
Professor S. Snape
leaning over curiously..., - Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 17:16:40 (PDT)

Mr. Metatron, you are becoming quite tiresome. Karl, pull the wings off that pale specimen at the bar!
Hans Gruber
I'm a people person, - Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 17:14:13 (PDT)

Note: Metatron, The Sheriff, Harry P., Flitwick, and Wench no. 5 are taking a brief hiatus. It's time to walk the dog and, er, George needs a Mother's Day card. (Or so he says, but I think he really just wants to spend a little quality time with me.) (Eeee.)
Wench no. 5
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 17:12:34 (PDT)

Oh, Hi Ed! Come out for a smoke break? Ummm, what exactly is in that pipe? Smells odd. Asthma medication? Oh.
Wench #2 <outside under the stars>
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 17:11:27 (PDT)

That sounds quite intriguing, my dear
Wench #2 <valley of the jolly, ho,ho,ho...>
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 17:09:22 (PDT)

Musket??? Ice cubes and women's tongues?? Will somebody please explain to me what's going on. I feel out-of-the-loop and quite lonely. Dobby, you're looking rather effeminate tonight. *sigh*
H. sad-little Potter
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 17:08:02 (PDT)

Oh look, that little has been Harry Potter is slumped in the corner with a bucket of butterbeer and a slimy look on his face. Is he letching after the Wenches. Let me get my wand out.
Prof SS
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 17:05:56 (PDT)

Oh really, Mr. Stylin-and-Profilin-International-Terrorist?? And I suppose you're quite familiar with the WRATH OF GOD, are you? I'm bullet-proof *and* this amazing wing span catches the wind current rather nicely at *any* height. You're beginning to annoy me. Rosmerta! Get the club out, for God's (pardon) sake.
The Metster
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 17:04:58 (PDT)

Wench Number 5! Cease calling my lady co-dependent! She is a gem of a lass, a saint! I don't deserve her! (shoulders shake in great heaving sobs) I don't! Excuse me, I have to go pleasure Kate now. I may be blind drunk, but the musket acts as a homing device.
Colonel Brandon
hanging head in shame, yet strangely virile, - Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 17:03:23 (PDT)

So, Sev...how about we step outside for a few minutes and maybe we can generate enough heat to dry off your collar(s).
guess
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 17:02:09 (PDT)

Amanda, yoohoo over here! I'd like for you to (mutter mutter) meet my friend, Sinclair. Heis currently single--said his ex-wife is off on an extended family trip-- and he's sort of at loose ends.
Wench #2
Glowering!, - Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 16:59:37 (PDT)

Ha, Mr. Metatron! You look like the lead singer from the Cure and I'm the gay one? Shall we see if your wings flap when I toss you off the top of this building?
Hans Gruber
Not gay, just sensitive, - Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 16:57:09 (PDT)

I've got some woman by the name of Amanda here with me. She's sticking melting ice cubes down my neck and licking the water off.
Professor Severus Snape
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 16:54:49 (PDT)

No wonder you never see any action, Mr. Gruber! The ladies all think you're gay...demanding shopping trips while taking them hostage. God! (Pardon) What a bunch of willied losers! Get me another gin on the rocks, Rosmerta, lovely mortal.
Metatron
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 16:53:52 (PDT)

Anybody know if Amanda is around? I would really like for her to meet Sinclair (who is currently picking the bar fruit off of the rim of unattended drinks)
Wench#2
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 16:51:49 (PDT)

Mr Gruber, You are such a freak, you can't buy menswear there. Anyway there's no point if you're going to fall of the top of a building you might as well wrap yourself in brown bags from the supermarket.
Elyot Chase
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 16:48:35 (PDT)

Sure thing, Kate! I have a nasty suspicion that he's going to escape later in the evening--once he's able to evade your watchful and rather codependent eye--and get *really* sloshed here at the FoF bar. But if I can be of service...
Wench no. 5
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 16:48:10 (PDT)

Oh, HONESTLY Colonel! I take you out for one hour and you fall off the wagon! Well, that's it, you naughty, naughty Colonel! It's a night at the Castle Anthrax for you. Bad, wicked Colonel! I am so sorry, everyone, I've got to take him home. Can someone help me lift his sodden and limp body into a cab? Wait a minute, it's not entirely limp. Damn that Viagra!
Kate
he's no day at the beach, believe me, - Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 16:44:56 (PDT)

Ladies and gentlemen, ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention please ... I am now going to hold you all hostage and I will not release you until my demands are heard by the F... B... I. Demand number one: Stop this ridiculous singing at once, you are giving me a headache! Number two: Give me one MEELION dollars and a clone one-eighth my size. Number three: Take me to Barney's immediately, they're having a spring menswear sale. Four: There will be no four!
Hans Gruber
I am so handsome it hurts, - Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 16:40:52 (PDT)

Kate! He's sloshed again!
Wench #2 again
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 16:38:18 (PDT)

Picks up pitcher of margaritas and dumps it on Colonel's head. You slimy, prissy ...(rest is drowned out by other sounds in bar)
Wench#2
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 16:36:56 (PDT)

Wenches #2 and#5 where are the rest of the Wenches.Get them over here now, I'm in the mood for love and I'm not going to waste time singing for it.
Elyot Chase
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 16:36:43 (PDT)

Now then! There's no call for such language, Mr. Sheriff! Um, uh, Madam Rosmerta, I think someone's been spiking the Colonel's ginger ale...he seems a little enthusiastic around those nice ladies in black over there, don't you think?
Flitwick, the master of charms
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 16:35:05 (PDT)

Well, then, my good wench, I suggest some liposuction as soon as possible!
Colonel Brandon
please don't tell my lady, - Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 16:34:39 (PDT)

Hey Snape, you're not going to eat that parsley are you?
Sinclair
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 16:33:30 (PDT)

Colonel! That's not your oats; they're MY THIGHS!
Wench #2
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 16:31:30 (PDT)

NOT till I've had my turn at the mike.

Er, we only now funny little drinking songs where I come from. (And Bryan Adams tunes.)

Ohhhhhh, there once was a sheriff from Nantucket...who had a...WHAT NOW??!! Inappropriate? SHUT UP, you deformed little midget! Someone hussle this Flitwick creature out of HERE!!!
The Sheriff
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 16:31:26 (PDT)

Ohhh! laughs I thought he meant that the German guy was a virgin!
Wench #2
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 16:29:55 (PDT)

I for one would like to hear the Sheriff sing now. That is, if he dares! Choose your mellow love song, sir!
Colonel Brandon
Feeling my oats now, I am!, - Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 16:29:31 (PDT)

Um, I don't think he's a virgin. (Not according to the wenches in St. Villysburg, anyway.) I think he sees *visions* of a virgin. Maybe Madonna rolling around in a gondola?
Wench no. 5
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 16:27:49 (PDT)

Hey, it's the Paula Abdul! Vat a babe! Paula, Paula, I used to vatch you on the MTV! I learned all my hot dance mowes from your wideos! Can we go to the Laker game now?
Rasputin
I sing better than any of these losers, - Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 16:27:39 (PDT)

To #5: Jeez, don't trample me trying to get over to George!
Wench #2
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 16:26:00 (PDT)

No, no, please! My virgin eyes! They don't have to be virgin eyes...Hello, any of the ladies here care for a butterbeer? My treat. Uh.
Harry P.
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 16:25:57 (PDT)

Colonel, you are fabulous! You really have a sincere way with a song. I look forward to hearing more of you. Are you a Laker fan?
Paula Abdul <@hasbeens'r'us.com>
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 16:25:29 (PDT)

to Wench #5 (whispered aside) He's a virgin?
Wench #2
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 16:24:51 (PDT)

I'll move you along, you neurotic excuse for a man! Can't even satisfy your WIFE. Well, I'll show you how a man satisfies a woman. Over here! NOW! Wench no. 5!!!
Sheriff with the mostest
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 16:24:19 (PDT)

Vell-dressed but annoying German guy! Your score please! The blessed wirgin giwes the Colonel a 10!
Rasputin
St. Villysburg, - Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 16:22:26 (PDT)

Oh! I'm not shot after all. It's just the marinara off the linguini I had stashed in case I got hungry! Oh this is good news, isn't it. The party just wouldn't have been the same if I hadn't been here to move things along.
Sinclair
sitting up and holding wet red shirt away from self, - Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 16:22:01 (PDT)

I believe that I should be one of the judges as I have experience in singing and I want you to know that Wench #1 has agreed to help me over the severe depression I have been feeling(?) since the departure of my newly remarried ex wife. Who incidentally used to strike me and throw kitchen things at me. With Wench#1 in my bed , sofa, or floor things can only get better and when we've explored all possibilities we will join in the sing song and even out sing Christopher and Ras and Sevy.
Elyot Chase
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 16:21:08 (PDT)

I give it a 6. I'd bump it up a few points but God is threatening me with lightening bolts, that sort of rot.
Metatron, the willyless
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 16:21:07 (PDT)

Oh, my, that was quite a fall. I think both of my legs are broken and maybe my arms too. Are those taquitos? Now, these are very interesting. You know, the taquito is going to be the snack food of the future. Trust me, I predict these things and I am never wrong! Ouch.
Sinclair Bryant
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 16:20:09 (PDT)

Severus! Take your foot off his neck so he can sit up. The taquito seems to have brought him around.
Wench #2
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 16:18:26 (PDT)

Judges!! Now is the time you vill show me the scores for the Colonel!
Rasputin
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 16:17:15 (PDT)

Sinclair (pat pat on cheek) Sinclair (waving taquito under his still-soaring beak) Oh! Are you okay?
Wench #2
grabbing a taquito, - Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 16:16:31 (PDT)

Help! I've been trying to resucitate him with a bleed-stop spell, but I need more magic!!!
Wench no. 5
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 16:16:22 (PDT)

Hello everyone, my name is Colonel Christopher Brandon of the queen's regiment. For my first mellow love song of the night, I have chosen this Burt Bacharach classic. I'd like to dedicate it to my lady Kate, even though she has taken away all of my liquor and sent me to a horrible rehabilitation camp in Palm Springs where I had to attend group therapy with Liza Minnelli and Nick Nolte. "Why do birds suddenly appear, every time you are neaaaaaaaaar, just like me, they long to be, close to youuuuuuuuuuu..."
Colonel Brandon
please give me a drink, - Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 16:15:39 (PDT)

What the hell is going on here? Who shot Sinclair? I told him he would meet some nice people, get a little silly...and somebody SHOT HIM?
Wench#2
Coming out of the ladies room, - Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 16:14:33 (PDT)

Hmph. And WHAT will we be singing this evening? Surely you don't expect me to know 70's anthems?? Bit before, er, I mean after, my time. Barmaid!
Sheriff of Naughtyham
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 16:13:49 (PDT)

Oooooh, this should be good! Very good, I say! Madam Rosmerta, m'dear, please get me a cherry soda and watch that winged fellow at the bar. He's giving me funny looks out of the corner of his eye...oh, see that,he just winked at me. I don't know why, but I don't think I trust him very much!

Let the singing commence, gentlemen!
Prof. Flitwick
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 16:11:19 (PDT)

I vill wolunteer to be like the Brian Dunkleman and the Ryan Seacrest and host the sing off! OK, humongous vinged freak, owergrown bat vizard and scary German fashion plate, get ready for the singing of the formerly drunk English soldier man and the flaming scenery chewer!
Rasputin
St. Villysburg, - Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 16:10:22 (PDT)

The character of Snape will now be played by...Wench no. 1, as that other imposter would like to avoid conflicting dialogue. Thank you. Resume!
Unofficial FoF referee
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 16:07:59 (PDT)

Oh, right, right, go on and bother the bloody over-grown fluffy cherub at the bar because he's got nothing better to do. Fine. You're the Voice of God and can walk on bloody water and everyone wants a piece of you.
Metatron
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 16:05:52 (PDT)

Hans, since you seem to have killed Mr. Bryant, would you be so kind as to take his place as a judge? We need one more volunteer. Metatron? Are you in the house?
Colonel Brandon
Vote for me and I'll set you free, - Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 16:02:09 (PDT)

Colonel, I should be happy to offer my services as a judge for your sing-off with the Sheriff! American Idol is such an interesting show. I don't want to boast, but I have quite a fine voice myself, in fact, oh, hello well-dressed German terrorist. Why, you're rather a doppelganger of myself! That's quite a large Uzi you're pointing at me. You know, it's interesting about the Uzi ... oh, you're counting to three and there will not be a four? Ha-ha, I must correct you, Mr. Gruber is it? Because you see, four comes after three as logically as ... AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! He shot me! But what about American Idol? I want to be a judge! Getting dark, everything is getting so... you know it's interesting about severe blood loss, it makes one feel as though you're floating from the 50th floor of a skyscraper straight down ...
Sinclair Bryant
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 15:59:43 (PDT)

Time! Hot dam. We can't have TWO discordant Snapes here!!! Somebody get a clue, please!
Unofficial FoF referee
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 15:57:49 (PDT)

Didn't people bang rocks together in the 70's to make music? And they wore animal skins...and...oh, maybe I'm thinking of a later epoch.
Harry sad-and-lonely Potter
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 15:56:08 (PDT)

Shove off you disgusting little brat - I've waited a lifetime to say that to you and your horrible little friends. Go away and leave me alone with my #1 Wench who has waited far too long and who has whispered in my ear that she has something to show me. And as for you Chase find your own Wench or get me another brandy and a chaser.
Professor Severus Snape
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 15:54:01 (PDT)

*upper-lip-curls-into-a-sneer* Why, I'd be delighted to judge your cacophonous screeching, er, sing-off. Take a chair, wench, this should be interesting.
Professor S. Snape
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 15:53:17 (PDT)

Shut up, boy! Run along to your dormitory where you belong. This wench and I have business to attend to. Wench no. 5, your slithering hands are coaxing long-buried emotions to the surface...I, I, can't believe I'm saying this but would you accept the position of Wench no. 1?
S. Snape
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 15:48:43 (PDT)

Sorry for the delay, ladies and gentlemen (I presume there are some gentlemen here). Just a small misunderstanding involving a lady. The Sheriff of Nottingham and I are going to rectify the situation in a civilized, modern manner. We are going to have a sing-off, as they do on American Idol. The category is mellow love songs. I need three volunteer judges. Anyone?
Colonel Brandon
Kate loves me, not you, so there, you flaming scenery chewer, - Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 15:47:26 (PDT)

*BRAAAP* Dobby, be a useful houself and fetch me another butterbeer, will you? Better yet, have Madam Rosmerta bring it over. I like her sparkly high heels...they're fascinating in a way I can't quite describe.

Oh, 'ello, Professor Snape. Are you looking for a little action, too? *wink, wink* It seems that you're having more luck than I am. Is that lady supposed to be fondling your wand in that manner?
Harry P. <Youthfulandeagertolearn@Hogwarts.com>
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 15:43:54 (PDT)

Did anybody see where the Colonel and Nottingham went? I fear they're going to duel!
Kate <@myheartbelongstodaddy.com>
Nottingham can have my body, but it won't be me, it won't be me!, - Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 15:41:21 (PDT)

Did somebody say PARTY! Vell, vat are ve vaiting for? Kick out the jams, mother Russians! Hey, it's my old buddies drunk English soldier man and enormous sullen bat vizard! Long time no see! Now is the time ve sing! You too, vell-dressed German terrorist! And you, guy in silk pajamas -- make yourself useful and tickle the iwories! Tonight we sing the songs from the '70s! No, not the 1870s, English soldier man! "How deep is your love, how deep is your love, rock the boat, don't rock the boat baby, I vill surwiwe!"
Rasputin
St. Villysburg, - Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 15:38:15 (PDT)

'Ello. My name's Harry Potter, and I understand that one of your, er, wenches has a thing for young blokes? I may not be of "legal age", but at least I've left puberty far enough behind me...so I was just wondering if one of the ladies would care to make a man of me. I'll just be over in the corner there, nursing my butterbeer. Thank you.
Harry Potter, student of witchcraft and wizardry <IhaveaFireboltyouknow@Hogwarts.com>
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 15:29:10 (PDT)

"It is an honor indeed to play the pianoforte for you. I shall start with an old favorite of mine and perhaps yours too. A little something by Mister William Joel. Oh, sing us a song, you're the pianoforte man, sing us a song tonight, buy me a drink so I don't have to think, and then I'll be feeling alright. La, la, la, la, la, de, da. KATE! Get out from under Nottingham this instant! I don't care if he threatened you with a spoon! Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen, a short break is in order. Don't forget to tip the waitresses. Thank you."
Colonel Brandon <@a.k.a. Pianoforte Man.com>
I'm available for weddings, bachelorette parties, etc., - Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 15:26:24 (PDT)

Ladies, I am surprised at your tardiness. I have been waiting for this event to begin since yesterday. It's most imprudent to leave this German waiting. Indeed. And to think I almost sent Karl out to search for you.

Ach! Hands off the suit!
Hans
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 15:19:49 (PDT)

Hello GG! The Colonel and I have arrived. Sorry we're late, we had to stop off at the 7-11 for a bottle of sparkling cider, since my dear Christopher is on the wagon for good now. I beg of you all, PLEASE do not give the Colonel alcohol, even if he offers you gold coins for it! I'm going to try to get him to play the pianoforte for us -- that always calms him down. Just as soon as his hands stop shaking. What's that honey? Gigantic glowering vampire bat? Christopher, you're hallucinating again! Oh, sorry Professor, I didn't see you there. It's OK Colonel dear, it's only Snape.
Kate <Iamthemusketeer.com>
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 15:07:30 (PDT)

What time are the rest of the Wenches showing up. I have two people here that are waiting and getting very impatient. One of them is practising his dirty dancing in a dark corner and is dressed to perfection in black turtle neck sweater and black jeans (muggle type) with black aligator boots and the other one is rather anticipating things by wearing his PJs and his brown silk dressing gown while singing "someday I'll find you". I don't know which one to go for first, Elyot or Sev. Sev or Elyot.Maybe we could go for a threesome and make the most of our time together until some of the pushy Wenches turn up. Bring on the drinks and turn up the music, we'll start without them, Oh and Elyot do shut up about yachts in general and one in particular.And Sev - do that again!
Gissings Girl
GNO, - Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 14:42:59 (PDT)

Unless you are missing action...then that's bad.
me again
maybe pigs are spam?, - Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 12:11:56 (PDT)

MA next to Dev, MIA missing in action:)
A concerned reader,need more
are cows spam?, - Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 12:08:35 (PDT)

Not M.I.A.--just MA. ;-) But it's nice to be missed.

Looks like we have some cow spam . . .

MA
Back soon, I promise . . ., - Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 06:10:25 (PDT)

Calling Therese,Dev,M.A.,Brandon,Ed,Claudia,Barbara, Phil, Chris, Hamlet, Alexander, Sandy, Hans, George, and all others mia.
A concerned reader.
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 05:41:39 (PDT)

Cow spam deleted.
D.o.C.

A moment later, Professors Dumbledore and Collins were standing in front of his desk. Snape was standing there eyeing the cat from behind it.
Snape turned his head toward Professor Dumbledore for an explanation.

“Professor Snape, this is Gwenevere Collins, she is here for your class tonight. “

Snape then turned his attention toward Gwenevere… and their eyes locked.

“I am very pleased to meet you, Professor Snape, I didn’t expect you’d be such a youthful wizard.” She said in a confident and professional manner befitting a person of her status, while holding his gaze.
Snape held her gaze, and then, suddenly, something hit him, something pleasant.
All of his previous irritation had completely vanished, in fact, he’d never remembered feeling this relaxed before.
It was as if a prolactin philter had been administered in his I.V. and was coursing through his veins bewitching his mind and ensnaring his senses.
There was a warm sensation and a feeling of perfect contentment and well being in his mind.
This is really quite pleasant, he thought,
but what the bloody hell is going on!!!

Gwenevere felt exactly the same symptoms.
‘Where do I know him from?’ she thought.
Snape had a sense that he knew Gwenevere yet he knew they had never met.
Somewhere, dwelling in his mind deeply locked away, a stored and long forgotten memory was fighting to be located and acknowledged.

“I am pleased to make your acquaintance, is it Miss.? Collins.”
Snape said, as an eyebrow rose, imperceptible to everyone except Gwenevere.

“Actually, it’s Professor Collins.” Professor Dumbledore said.

“ I just hired her to teach here, at Hogwarts. That is why she is late for your class and I’m afraid I must take complete responsibility for that.”

“It’s quite alright Head Master.”
Snape said silkily, as he pried his eyes from hers.
Lee
- Saturday, May 10, 2003 at 05:33:50 (PDT)

Oh, It's not even been started yet! just wait to see what happends!
Lee
- Friday, May 09, 2003 at 13:08:26 (PDT)

Well done, Lee! Enjoying your Snape story immensely. Keep up the good work.
the unassuming fly on the wall
- Friday, May 09, 2003 at 12:56:24 (PDT)

Snape swept away from his desk in a fluid arc and handed out a copy of the syllabus to each student.
“You will be making a potion every Friday night for the next six weeks, and there is additional prep time needed in order to be out of here by eight o’clock.” He announced.
“The research needed to satisfactorily complete the three written projects will be substantial.”
He cautioned them about turning out something fit for lining rubbish bins or birdcages.
“If you are having trouble finding, or need additional reference materials come and see me.”
He was standing at the front of the room with his arms folded, acutely searching for signs of weakness within the herd like a black panther about to secure his evening meal.
He returned to his desk to assemble his notes when he noticed Head Master Dumbledore appear in the doorway.
Snape glanced at the clock on his desk and it read thirteen minutes past six.
“Class, take ten minutes to look over the information.”
He said as he focused on the gray cat following Professor Dumbledore. There was a tall woman walking behind the cat.
Lee
- Friday, May 09, 2003 at 06:18:38 (PDT)

The back issues ending with ".org" are still not working, sorry about that! But, yes, I'm in the process of moving them and changing links, so hopefully all will be working by the end of the weekend.

Suzanne
On my way to the chat room., - Thursday, May 08, 2003 at 17:49:13 (PDT)

Italics fixed. Sorry, don't know about the archives - perhaps Suz is moving them?
Claudia
Deputy DOC, - Thursday, May 08, 2003 at 16:33:40 (PDT)

Any word on the ARchives? I couldn't get in either.
Cindie
Help, I'm Italicized!, - Thursday, May 08, 2003 at 09:28:11 (PDT)

Gwenevere was seated at Professor Dumbledore’s desk at two minutes till five for their appointment.
Her Potions lecture started at six sharp on Mondays and Wednesdays, lab on Fridays started at five sharp as she remembered the description in the catalogue.
Boots flopped down under Gwenevere’s chair, beating his tail twice on the floor as he surveyed the room. And when Alexander saw the breadth of his domain he wept for there were no more worlds to conquer he thought…well maybe just one more.

At two minutes before six, Professor Severus Snape was at his desk taking attendance. As he called the names, he labored to maintain a level of control.
“G. Collins” he called in a silky monotone voice.
No one spoke or raised a hand.
“Where is G. Collins?” he asked.
His irritation was rising as his patience was falling.
He looked at the empty table in the front of the dungeon where G. Collins was apparently supposed to be sitting. G.Collins’ lab mate “J.Willoughby” was also supposed to be sitting at the table but the gutless git dropped the class at the last minute causing Snape to have to substitute himself for the job- that is if Collins ever shows up.
Revenge would surly be emanate.
Lee
It's so misty here this morning, I saw a bluebird having a bad hair day... can Phil help that?, - Wednesday, May 07, 2003 at 07:07:50 (PDT)

Hey everyone! Diane here... just had a thought. Could possibly the character from "In Demand" be used? I know it isn't exactly a character from one of his movies or plays... ^-^ I also know that this "charrie" doesn't have a name... but who says we can't give him one?!? :D

Ciao, and have a nice day!!! :)
Diane <snapescauldron@aol.com>
Lack of FOF is NOT a good thing- I think I have a terrible syndrome of it! I need it back!!! 8-), - Tuesday, May 06, 2003 at 14:53:02 (PDT)

Sorry, my arrow went the wrong way and I italicised the whole guest book. I hope you can fix.
Lee
- Tuesday, May 06, 2003 at 08:17:19 (PDT)

Brad was classically educated.
Brad's first grade teacher.
- Tuesday, May 06, 2003 at 08:11:34 (PDT)

Gwenevere and Brad worked well past lunchtime on a complicated acquisition involving negotiable bearer bonds that needed to be completed by noon on Friday. The project would be their last at Gringotts and Gwenevere was scheduled to move into one of the professor’s quarters at Hogwarts on Saturday. There were a few minor details to work out during the meeting this evening with professor Dumbledore concerning the transition.
Gwenevere wanted to ease into her own academic pursuit gradually. The six-week course would allow her to get to know the Potions Master without the pressure of a future agenda being put forth immediately. She also welcomed the opportunity for a much-needed four-month holiday- Gwenevere style of course.

Voices could be heard coming from the corridor as co-workers and associates filed into her office carrying a cake. They wanted to give Gwenevere a proper send off wishing her well in her new endeavor.
After cutting the cake, she opened the small gold box that Brad had set on her desk earlier. It was an elegant platinum watch pendant given to her by her associates and staff at Gringotts; it had an inscription written on the back. They had remembered her love of heirloom jewelry, and that she wasn’t able to wear conventional wristwatches because Gwenevere had an unusual electro-magnetic condition that killed watches if she wore them next to her body.

“Ah! You remembered. This is beautiful. Thank you all, I’m deeply touched and I will always treasure it, and my time here with all of you.”

Brad stepped up and with a failed attempt at eye contact, fastened the delicate clasp around her neck as she lifted her hair over the 27-inch chain. It complemented beautifully the dark gray dress she was wearing, drawing even more attention to her perfect figure.

“ It’s already set two minutes fast for you!” her secretary said laughing.

“ This is in lieu of your retirement and pension!”
Brad said with a smile trying to keep the atmosphere festive, but he had a slight sadness in his eyes. Only four more days he thought.

Gwenevere had such grace and style and she always made those around her feel appreciated by her warn recognition their kind gestures. She didn’t take people for granted which was one reason why she was so well liked.
This talent had another side where business was concerned. She had honed the skill to perfection, able to assess people almost instantly. She knew their motives, their skills and weaknesses. She could read people with startling accuracy and predict what they would say and do, which made her a very tough cross-examination in the courtroom.
Lee
I tried editing and punctuation so we'll see. I have doubts about Brad and the bonds. Has he ever met Hans before?, - Tuesday, May 06, 2003 at 08:07:17 (PDT)

Off Set, The Horrid Museum Affair:

Cindie hadn’t needed to ‘freshen up’ at all but had no intention of standing around being ignored, or worse, by anyone, friend of Mistral’s or no. Deciding that she would manage quite well on her own for a bit rather than accessorizing Mistral she explored the museum and observe the other guests. Some museum people came and talked to her about the event and she met some guests who said some nice things about the work she’d done for the show. Anton was there and the photographers had them pose for some shots together. She encountered the Director when she went to the bar and they talked for a little while. Eventually, see saw Patrick standing alone and headed toward him but, not seeing her, he moved off. She was saved the ignominy of chasing him down by Chandos’ very timely arrival.

He was a guest tonight, not because of his appearance on FoF, but because of his involvement with the museum. Chandos tended to be reticent in discussing his personal involvement in the adventures in Carinthia and Cindie had resolved to try another tactic to get him to tell her something of them. As it was, she learned a great deal about the triptych he had donated and a fair bit about Axel the Red, but nothing of his feats of daring. He did mention again that he had Rafter to thank for finding his good fortune and Mansel’s dog Tester for keeping it, but that was about it.

But his expansive and enthusiastic narrative on the fruits of his efforts made the piece come alive and Cindie was again reminded how fortunate she was to count him among her friends. She was feeling pretty good about the evening when she finally entered the ladies’ lounge and into the bathroom. She was just washing her hands when she heard two women in the adjacent lounge talking:

“I don’t know what he sees in her. She’s a mousy little thing.”

“You just don’t like the idea of him sleeping with anyone but you.”

And they said men were bad with the kiss and tell. Applying more soap she made sure to splash a bit so that the neighboring gossips knew she was there.

“No, that’s not it, I know I’m not the first, …or the last, . . .just the best.” A crackle of laughter at her own humour and a pause, “You had a nice time with him, didn’t you.”

“He was fabulous, very attentive, if somewhat …unconventional. He certainly didn’t stay long enough to wear out his welcome.” A hint of wistfulness there.

Cindie turned off the taps and wondered as to the identity of the apparently less than discriminate gentleman.

“He never does. Part of his charm.”

“Have you ever been to his place?”

“No, of course not daaaaahling, he never takes anyone to his place. The man guards his privacy like it was a family heirloom. Passes it of by saying he prefers a woman to be comfortable in her surroundings. Whatever that’s supposed to mean.”

At the daaaaaahling, she tore off a piece of paper toweling and wadded it up.

“Are you going to take him home with you tonight?”

“I haven’t decided. But if little Miss Lotus Mouse is my only competition, he’s ripe for the taking.”

Cindie could hear the gnash of fangs on the last word. Holding the wad of paper towel, she just stood there as the words sunk in. That was the devil creature and she was talking about her …and Patrick. She unwadded the paper and dried her hands and made her way into the lounge just in time to see the bi… woman in question smile over her shoulder and exit the lounge, returning to the party.

Standing for a moment and considering, she realized that she had been meant to hear that little exchange. The twisted smile and been directed at her and her in particular. She moved to sit down in one of the chairs to gather her thoughts but found she couldn’t be still. She paced the room. Who was she? A former one night stand? Stands? An old flame? A current flame?

MOUSEY?!

Standing up to look in the full length mirror she gave herself the once over. Trying to be objective she knew she was much shorter than the devil creature, not long and lithe at all. But she had a nice shape, more curves than planes but they were nice enough curves. She was cute, she looked attractive in the dress and thanks to Phil her hair looked great. Cindie thought of the twin emeralds that had flashed at her above that twisted knowing smile as the woman swept out of the room. There wasn’t anything remarkable about her eyes. Nothing like the sharp green of that woman’s. Hers were an ordinary light brown but they were framed with long black lashes and she’d never considered them mousy. But she wasn’t really beautiful, she knew that. He’d called her beautiful once, but she wasn’t, not really, not movie star beautiful, not glamorous or polished. What did he see in her? Clearly she wasn’t like the jaggedly sophisticated women he was used to. He had known the circle of people here but hadn’t really bothered to introduce her around. Was he ashamed of her, now that they were out in a public place together? Not a quiet date where she was tucked into a nice little corner to be played with but not seen.

Patrick had spoken of exclusivity that night at her flat and she believed him when he said he wasn’t seeing anyone else and wouldn’t while they were dating. That did not, however, address the question of the past. Or the future. Not that she hadn’t thought about it. It had never been a question of him having lived a monk’s life before her appearance. She’d taken for granted that there had been women in his past but she had expected them to stay there, safely isolated from her. Now all of a sudden the past had intruded itself very tangibly in the present which in turn was casting a very long, thin shadow on the future. And she had to admit she’d begun to think of her future as including him.

Cindie
Oh, so much going on! BtW, you have the power and use it mostly for good. Lee, Welcome! Clods, you always leave us wanting more. So write more. MA, *Will this do?!* ACK!!!! Therese, you look smashing as does Dev with that dark lean elegance.

Excuse me, while I mope in the ladies' room for a bit. , - Monday, May 05, 2003 at 17:03:28 (PDT)

The Museum:

A slight bend of the black clad arm, a twist of the wrist to reveal the face of the timepiece, and a disgruntled glare. "Have you any idea of the time?"

Therese looked up at Eamon from her less than glamorous position on hands and knees, much of her front half hidden beneath her bed. In one hand she clutched a strappy black sandal, and held it up behind her. "If you're that impatient, find another one of these."

Eamon sighed. She had to be the single most frustrating woman in the country, no, on the planet, at times. He knew the utter futility of suggesting that she simply pick another pair, ANY pair from the dozens littering the crowded floor of her closet, and walked over to consider the heaped pile of flats, pumps, loafers, trainers, and boots.

"It's not in there," Therese called over her shoulder, her front section still beneath the bed, making Eamon wonder just how she knew his exact position, "I already checked."

He moved to stand next to the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, gleaming black shoe tapping impatiently. She started to back out from beneath the bed, "That is a great help," she grumbled, regaining her feet. Stooping over she slid the one shoe in her possession onto her right foot, and secured the ankle strap, then straightening she rested her hand on her hip for a moment in contemplation.

"The event started a quarter hour ago."

"Well you always hate the red carpet runway--the paparazzi will have left and the party will just be getting under way, out timing will be perfect." She straightened, smoothing her skirt and running her hands over her ruffled hair, and in spite of himself, Eamon smiled. She had that effect on him, always had.

Her petite figure was clad in a two piece skirt outfit, the top part a v-necked sheath, the bottom part, a low cut, hip hugging wrap that exposed an inch or two of midriff at the silver belted waist, and fell to a couple inches above her knee at the hem. As usual, she was clad in basic black, and her long, wavy blonde hair hung loose down her shoulders. Even minus a shoe, she took his breath away.

"We could amputate," he suggested.

"I believe that would make us later still," she replied seriously. "Oh, wait," Therese crossed to the other side of the room, and removed her cat from his spot where he was curled up on her pillow, and leant over the side of the bed, her fingers brushing across the floor. "I've got it," she said triumphantly, quickly straightening, brushing the stray cat hair from her outfit and slipping into the missing shoe. "There now, are you ready?"

Eamon didn't rise to the bait, but simply tipped his head sideways slightly and gazed at her with a raised brow. Therese felt the familiar sensation and weakness in her knees, and linked her arm through his. Clad in his formal attire he was dark lean elegance.

The trip was uneventful, particularly by the standards of London traffic, and soon an attendent was carefully parking the emerald green Jaguar while Eamon and Therese made their way to the carpeted steps. Unfortunately the reporters, assuming that everyone who was anyone had arrived, had turned to leave en masse, and confronted their last photo op of the evening. There was a startling moment of flash bulbs popping, and numerous questions shouted out to the couple. Therese felt the hammering of her heart, her step faltering as her eyes were assualted by the harsh bursts of light. She hated this aspect of her profession, always had, and always would.

She felt Eamon's arm around her back, his hand cupping her hip and holding her close to his body protectively. With his other arm he cleared the way, ushering her forward into the alcove before the entrance where a stern doorman held the interlopers at bay.

"Perfect timing?" Eamon enquired, once safely inside.

Therese <thereseiam@yahoo.com>
Lee--welcome, great to have you! Jutta--I need your email address, I've been trying to contact you for ages, and can't get through, please write!, - Monday, May 05, 2003 at 13:16:18 (PDT)

Ah yes, Dr. Collins. I read about her in Forbes.
Hans
- Monday, May 05, 2003 at 12:07:04 (PDT)

On Monday morning 12 May, 2003 Dr. Gwenevere Collins entered her large office at Gringotts World Wizard Bank. This was to be her last week as head of International Large Account Transfers and Acquisitions. Dr. Collins had mixed emotions today as she gazed out of her large picture window overlooking London. On the one hand, her job provided her with a massive daily amount of mental stimulation, which was vital to her. She would also miss some of her associates whom she had worked with for years. On the other hand, she would not miss the enormous pressure associated with the level of security and responsibility that her job required. It had taken almost a year for Gringotts to find and train a suitable replacement for her, after giving them notice of her plans. She was “almost irreplaceable” they often told her, all the while interviewing prospective candidates. Gwenevere has a P.H.D. in International Financial Law and Financial Planning. She has had extensive courtroom experience as an expert witness for Gringotts and been a very talented and successful financial forecaster and planner, having been named Financial Planner of the Year three times in a row. She speaks six languages including Spanish, French, Italian, Goblin, some Japanese, and German. Gwenevere has been the subject of feature stories, in the financial world, and is a highly- regarded financial educator and communicator having written countless articles and traveled the world attending various conferences and seminars as guest speaker. Gwenevere had been an overachiever all of her life, but from aged eleven, had amerced herself into her studies as an effort to mentally escape the trauma she felt as a result of her father’s murder and the death of her mother a short time after. The remainder of her childhood was spent living with her grandparents’ small dairy farm near Suffolk England. She attended school in Spain and choose to study finance, with the goblins, because her magic ability became deeply suppressed and inaccessible to her as a result of her father’s brutal murder committed by the deatheaters. She made the decision to leave Gringotts based on the fact that there was only four known living Potion Master Five’s in the world and they were all in their 70s and 80s as far as she knew. She would be the fifth generation of Potion Masters in her family if she could study with one of the remaining Masters, a dream she couldn’t bear to pursue until now. She had heard that one of the P.M.5s (Potions Master Five) was planning to teach a six-week night course in Potion Making at Hogwarts School in England so she signed up. While at Hogwarts, she was able to speak with Professor Dumbledore about the possibility of teaching finance part-time at the school while possibly perusing her P.M. goal. Boots, her large gray cat rubbed by her leg as an attempt to be noticed. She picked him up and told him “Tonight I have a meeting with Head Master Dumbledore and after that I start my first Potions Class”

There was a knock at the door, “enter” she called. It was Brad Pitt, her assistant and Gringotts replacement. He came in bearing gifts. Brad was exceedingly intelligent and very handsome, with as much charm as you would ever want. He had a very different type of intelligence than she; Brad was book-smart but lacked the finesse that made Gwenevere so unique. Brad had fallen love with Gwenevere while working closely with her at Gringotts She was the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on. She had no romantic feelings for Brad though, as he was not her type. He was too young for her for one thing, and placed far too much importance on her appearance. Add to that the fact that he was a full two inches shorter that she, so if you add the height of her heels, it becomes apparent that it could never work out. She did however, like his Hans Gruber type personality very much.

Gwenevere was tall, and she had large expressive eyes, and thick long dark hair. She was a runner and led a disciplined life style that she learned at a young age having earned a black belt in Karate by age fifteen. Her beauty, brains and ambition made for a lethal combination.
Lee
Still learing the FoF puntuation., - Monday, May 05, 2003 at 08:08:41 (PDT)

Thank you all for the feedback and encoutagement. I appreciate it more than you can know. We are working on a little "behind the scenes negations" but it will be worked out soon. I am going to practice punctuation at FoF in the meanwhile. Bye for now Lee
Lee
- Monday, May 05, 2003 at 04:14:50 (PDT)

The Museum:

“Mary Anne, you look like a Cyprian goddess tonight.”

The compliment pleases her, as he knew it would. A tribute to both body and mind, one she recognizes with a blush of pleasure and a dazzling smile. Yet she cannot resist playing the innocent and prolonging the moment. “Which one?”

A slight bow, the signal of his willingness to continue the game in which he delights almost as much as she. “The Cyprian, of course. Aphrodite.”

“Goddess of Love,” puts in Brandon as he signals a passing waiter and picks a glass of champagne off the tray.

“Then, Brandon-“ Mistral waits as Mary Anne selects her own glass, and then takes one for himself. “-we are in very distinguished and lovely company.”

Mary Anne sips from her glass. “Hush, Mistral. You’ll turn my head.”

“Well, my dearest-“ Brandon’s glass is almost empty, a fact that is not lost upon Mistral. “-that would only be fair, would it not? Since you seem to be turning everyone else’s head.” Brandon drains what is left of his glass, then turns to Mistral. “But they could be rather a wanton lot, these ancient goddesses? If I remember correctly?”

It is as nonchalant and teasing a remark as any Brandon has ever made, yet something in the tone brings Mistral’s eyes instantly and sharply to Brandon’s face, even as Mary Anne’s eyes widen in mock dismay. “Wanton? Moi?” Swift flutterings of those long, dark lashes. “Do I look like a wanton, then?”

Before Mistral can reply, Brandon has his arm about Mary Anne’s shoulder. “It is the men here who are wanton, Mary Anne-they shall all be ‘wanton’ to be as close to you as possible.”

Mary Anne smirks over her champagne flute as Mistral laughs politely. A polite laugh is all he can manage as he watches Brandon with narrow-eyed concentration, taking note of the other man’s tense posture, the crease between his brows, the thin set of his lips. What the devil is the matter with Brandon tonight? Aloud, however, Mistral addresses himself to Mary Anne. “Not at all.” And then to Brandon: “As to looking like a wanton, have you two seen the Cretan artifacts?”

A grimace of distaste from Brandon, and Mistral knows he has made his point. One of the statuettes in the ancient Cretan display had been of a fertility goddess, pre-dating Aphrodite of the Greeks. What had caught Mistral’s attention was the aggressive sexuality, almost to the point of ferocity, in this foot-tall sculpture of a woman dressed in the old Cretan style, her gown draped low in front to completely bare her breasts. That, Mistral had thought, was neither here nor there; different cultures consider different parts of the body taboo, and in that culture the gown might have been the dress of a respectable matron for all he could tell. But there had been something else about the figurine that had sent a shiver down his spine: the hair standing stiffly out around its head in a sort of anti-halo, the staring eyes, the bared teeth . . . how different from the more benevolent Egyptian depictions of Isis and Hathor, or the classic Greek sculptures of laughter-loving Aphrodite. If that Cretan figurine had reflected some long-dead artist’s views of love and the sexual instincts, then no wonder some cultures had viewed love as madness and prayed to be delivered from it as they would flee a sickness. How understandable that the hero Anchises had been terrified to discover that it had been no mortal woman he took to his bed, but Aphrodite herself, and entreated her to destroy him at once and not shame him, for no man could live who had held a goddess in his arms.

Brandon clears his throat. “Well, whatever else Mary Anne may be, she is no Cretan . . .”

Mary Anne cannot help it; she laughs out loud.

“No, that she certainly is not,” replies Mistral.

She raises her hand. “Ummm, gentlemen, I’m here, remember?”

Brandon murmurs an apology, and Mistral nods, thinking, Yes, she certainly is there, all right. There, somewhere, waiting to be discovered.

Then, she takes a step closer. The light touch on his arm. “Mistral, I had been wanting to tell you-that work we just did on the Trial. You were excellent, you know.”

“Thank you.” His fingertips rest for no more than an instant on the back of her hand. “Though I did not have a great deal to do, sitting there in that cage.”

Her smile, warm and admiring. “Ah, but I’ve never seen anyone do nothing so well as you! And that look on your face, when I have to look over and get caught in HIS eyes . . .”

It is at that instant that Mistral realizes that he has been staring at Mary Anne a bit too long for good manners, and that Brandon has been watching him watch Mary Anne.

He shrugs, with his most lighthearted smile. “I can’t take too much credit for that, Mary Anne. The main thing I was concentrating on in that cage was to get things right in one take-so I could get out and get to the loo. Perhaps that accounts for that look of such intensity everyone was commenting on at the dailies . . .”

Even Brandon laughs at that, though the smile does not quite reach his eyes, and Mistral seizes his chance to beat a graceful retreat. “If you two will excuse me-my own goddess awaits. Brandon, Mary Anne . . .”

And then Mistral moves off, scanning the room for Cindie. However, he can still feel the tingle of Mary Anne’s hand where it had rested on his arm-that, and a cold spot between his shoulders where he is certain that Brandon’s eyes are boring into his back.

MA -- Cindie, will this do? ;-) Lee, your idea sounds very interesting; I can't wait to see more!
Clods--watch it, gal, you know Ed's gonna fight back! Suzanne--have the ARchives been offline? I can't seem to get in . . ., - Sunday, May 04, 2003 at 20:11:31 (PDT)

Dear Lee,

Please check your mail. Thanks! :)
Diane <snapescauldron@aol.com>
- Sunday, May 04, 2003 at 12:37:38 (PDT)

Bravo Lee, keep posting this is fascinating.
Janine <janinels@optusnet.com.aufooythingy>
Ah something new, - Sunday, May 04, 2003 at 04:11:51 (PDT)

Lee

To get paragraph breaks, italics and such, check out the Quick Guide to HTML that Suzanne has linked at the top of the page. It'll make your story easier to read!
Barbara the Wallpaperer
I have the power -- or so Cindie tells me, - Saturday, May 03, 2003 at 23:33:15 (PDT)

Maybe someday Snapes hair will flop as well:)
Lee
- Saturday, May 03, 2003 at 08:57:59 (PDT)

Synopsis: True Love’s Curse
Snape/Collins Year: 2003

Professor Severus Snape, a foreboding, yet brilliant and powerful wizard, is the resident Potions Master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, located near London, England. Snape is less than patient, less than kind, less than fair. When Snape meets with an obstacle, he is ruthlessly proficient at finding and exploiting every loophole, taking full advantage of every perceivable opportunity. When Snape is dealt a lemon, he adds two more, cashes in the jackpot and then makes lemonade! (This is to be said like the “ We’ll be on a beach earning 20 percent” line) The sarky, (or is it snarky) sexy, somber sorcerer has meet his match when, upon leaving a high- pressure career in international finance at Gringotts World Wizard Bank, Dr. Gwenevere Collins walks into his six- week night school course and into his life. Gwenevere has come to Hogwarts to teach finance but her ultimate goal is to become a Potions Master 5 , following in the footsteps of the last four generations preceding her. She is ultra intelligent, beautiful, and ambitious, but she has demons lurking in her past who have kept her from reaching her goal …until now. When Gwenevere and Snape meet, the resulting fireworks activate a deadly curse created in the 16th century by sir Kevin, (Picture of all the Rickman footage left on the cutting room floor owing to Kevin’s nonexisting talent and insecurities.L But enough of that, back to the story at hand…) a jilted and disturbed diabolical wizard who was obsessed with a woman named Juliet. Juliet despised Sir Kevin and was Truly, Deeply, Madly in love with another. The lovers quickly fell victim to the curse and could then only be together again in the sprit world. Since then, anyone falling prey to the True Love at First Sight Curse dies after 40 days because they are unable to navigate within the curses cunning and deadly parameters. The question is, will Snape and Collins be able to break the curse thus ridding the world of this cruel injustice that feeds on the rarest of gifts: True Love at First Sight.
Lee <Sundown@myshorelink.com>
- Saturday, May 03, 2003 at 08:56:09 (PDT)

Ed’s hair flopped as he fell to the pillows.

“I’m soo depressed,” he moaned, face down in a muffled voice. Most ungod-like. Hair, very Ed-like.

“How can you say that here,?” said Claudia. She took two steps into the room. “I feel so…”she trailed off. “I remember everything that has happened to me… to us, the last few weeks. But its like the anxiety, the worry, the guilt has all gone. I feel so… good.”

Ed moaned again. “I felt the same way, so relaxed. Like I was on some wonderful holiday from reality. That is, until you got here.”

“Thanks.” She said, stepping closer to him, in his pile of ‘hiding from reality’. “What is this place, anyway?”

“It’s a rest stop. Shore leave. It’s a ship, a grounded ship. Made for the crew of this race’s many star ships. They go on tours of duty that last years. When they get back, they need to relax - big time. Unfortunately, they crash-landed here. And the men on the ships - well, I don’t think they stopped to ask for directions.”

“Typical,” sighed Claudia. “So, I take it they haven’t had any visitors for a while.”

“I don’t think so.” He peeked out from behind a cushion. “ I wish you’d go.”

“You know, you’re so charming. Here’s me, a goddess, you a god. Don’t you think we should make the most of it? Tomorrow we might have to be back at the trial, and I’d really hate to waste the moment.”

Ed threw a pillow, and Claudia caught it. “I don’t want you here.”

“You said we could work things out.”

“Perhaps I was wrong.”

“How about friends? We could be friends. Forget all the otherstuff - for now.”

“Perhaps.” He didn’t look certain.

“Great! Because you’ve had this coming a long time!” Claudia threw the pillow back at him, and leapt for him, fingers poised to tickle.
Claudia
Its like a painting - someone sees something in it that you hadn't noticed - and ah, yes, you incorporate that in your description from then on, - Saturday, May 03, 2003 at 00:05:44 (PDT)

I just reread my intro and I wrote it the exact oppisite of what I was tring to say. You are all great writers and I need lots of practice. sorry. Hopefully you know what I was tring to say. I'll just go now.... Bye, Lee:)
Lee
Barbara, Thanks for the feedback., - Thursday, May 01, 2003 at 18:57:47 (PDT)

Lee

Please do contact the individual writers before you populate the story too much, as some of the gents are claimed.

It might be for humorous purposes, but it can play havoc with the timelines.... :)
Barbara the Wallpaperer
- Thursday, May 01, 2003 at 17:13:21 (PDT)

Oh ps, I believe I have created a Snape-worthy woman for the story, stay tuned...
Lee
- Thursday, May 01, 2003 at 06:25:31 (PDT)

INTRODUCTION TO FOF FOR TRUE LOVE’S CURSE Hello FoF writers and readers, My pen name is Lee Carson and I am glad to get a chance to join you for a while. I have never written for fun before and I am amazed at how it all works. The characters have taken on a life of their own, sometimes waking me up at 3 am (rare) and sometimes they have me laughing until I cant see the page any longer. As I said, I’m not a writer, like many of you, and I don’t type either so if something comes out wrong you’ll understand why. I am an avid reader of mystery novels. I have seasoned this story with a variety of Rickman characters for the purpose of humor, as I see it on FoF often, so if I mention your character it is in the sprit of humor only - as in Janine’s piece about the exercise diary. Very funny! If anyone has a problem with it let me know on E-Mail and it won’t happen again. No hard feelings on my part. Personally I am married and have a daughter and we live on a small Maryland farm. We have jerseys, quarter horses, cats, chickens-all with names as pets- and wild birds that will land on your hand if you are holding their feeder in winter. I hope you all enjoy my story and I hope it fits in well with FoF. I will write the book jacket bit later. See You, Lee
Lee <sundown@myshorelink.com>
- Thursday, May 01, 2003 at 06:21:26 (PDT)

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