Alan Rickman Flights of Fancy

Magda If you don't post another thrilling episode from the life fo the good Sheriff of Nottingham soon. I shall simply run mad.
Redwolf
- Sunday, August 31, 2003 at 21:37:16 (PDT)

Nice site!
drug testing <dtst4765@yahoo.com>
Urengoy, MW USA - Sunday, August 31, 2003 at 19:10:02 (PDT)

I want to say that I enjoyed the visit to your site, very helfpul comments here!
alojamiento web <aloweb123@aol.com>
houston, tx us - Sunday, August 31, 2003 at 04:19:27 (PDT)

Magda, Don't think we do not remember where you left off with Geroge!
wrings hands with anticipation.
- Saturday, August 30, 2003 at 09:26:40 (PDT)

I hope everyone has a safe and fun weekend. For the fact I don't have a computer at home, I will have to wait until Tuesday to read more of Lee's beautiful story.
Claire <PRAGUE@IWON.COM>
- Friday, August 29, 2003 at 13:48:26 (PDT)

TRUE LOVE'S CURSE: Friday

Gwenevere returned to her room just after dawn to prepare for her workout. Afterward, when she lay soaking in the especially relaxing bath of lavender scented suds, pleasant thoughts of last night persisted in nudging out the more practical ones. She planned to write her Grandmother soon with the news of their engagement.
Gwenevere admired the Juliet Diamond through a thin veil of fragrant white suds. It was a large stone, prized for its perfection, and each of the seven diamonds corresponded with one of the seven rules of the curse.
“You must have been calling his name Juliet,” she said quietly, still captivated by the precious stone.

“That rock must have squeezed a couple of knuts out of Professor Snake’s pockets!” Sir Nicholas quipped, as he lightly touched up the manicure on his left hand; peculiarly mirroring hers.

“Don’t worry, Severus can afford it, besides it’s worth every knut, sickle and galleon.” She reminded him absently as she dipped it back into the water for a fresh new look.

“Yes, I noticed that you didn’t come home last night Gwenevere, you certainly don’t come cheap do you dear?” He snickered devilishly.

“That’s NOT what I was referring to, thank you very much, this diamond is necessary to break the Kevin curse. It could help save his life.” She reminded him, and then turned to him with raised brow and considered him for a moment.

“Sir Nicholas, I have an important proposition for you if you choose to accept it.” She said deviously.

“Oh, do tell, unlike Professor Snake, I never shrink from a challenge!” He said obviously intrigued, his eyes widened to accentuate the words. She ignored his teasing.

“I need to know specifically what the seven deadly rules of the curse are so that we don’t break any of them for the next twenty days. Will you interview the rabbits and find out which rule killed the wizard, and report back to me as soon as possible?” she asked.

“Yes, I would be delighted to as I certainly don’t want Professor Snake appearing on my side thus loosing my advantage and the joy it gives me to relentlessly torment him on a regular basis.
There is one problem I can see though…you see the rabbits spend so much time… behind closed doors that I will need to hunt them down and catch them out in the clearing so that I can pop them the question.” He said, eyes a blaze with the thrill of the hunt at hand.

“I have enormous faith in you Sir Nicholas, I am positive you can get the job done!” “Very well Gwenevere dear, and so I shall. Good Day to you!”

Gwenevere dressed in black jeans, and a white eyelet lace top that was cut to end at the waist, and had flattering neckline that complemented her figure. The Juliet diamond sparkled with a profusion of refracted light and looked perfectly appropriate with casual wear as well as elegance owing to its unique setting and Gwenevere’s tall frame and naturally elegant style. She donned high collared black robes and met Severus briefly before deciding to eat breakfast in the Great Hall this morning.

They got there early and took their places at the staff tables. The Great Hall was scarcely attended even for an early Sunday morning. The staff table was sporadically occupied and the student tables were mostly being used for quick take away meals of toast and juice by small groups of students who were on their way elsewhere and beyond.
Severus and the seldom seen Gwenevere drew mild attention as they chatted quietly together. Severus looked relaxed as he leant in towards her, speaking close to Gwenevere’s ear and making a point with a wave of his hand, as it held a small piece of toast.
Gwenevere smiled and nodded her head in clear agreement and turned to say something in response to him, which give the impression that it was to his liking, though he didn’t actually smile, he was slightly animated and idly waived his fork to emphasize a counter point. They behaved as though they were alone in the room, completely oblivious to their surroundings.

The Headmaster, with silver spoon in hand and a hot bowl of porridge waiting, glanced their way and smiled knowingly before tucking in.
Madam Pomfrey silently scoffed at them from across the way as she noticed the large amount of breakfast they were both consuming this morning. She disapprovingly took silent inventory of their meals: ham and eggs, toast with jam, potatoes and biscuits and a variety of other breakfast items were needed to satisfy ravenous appetites apparently, as she construed the possible causes for such overindulgence this early in the day.

After finishing their tea, they each grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl directly in front of them and headed back to the second floor.

lee
Thank you so much ladies! *blush* I don't know what to say, you are all so very kind. : ) , - Friday, August 29, 2003 at 06:42:14 (PDT)

Lee, how could I not forgive you for that piece of the story. My god, you are so brilliant.
Claire <PRAGUE@IWON.COM>
Trying not to be so eager., - Friday, August 29, 2003 at 06:08:14 (PDT)

Lee, Your story as usual is wonderful. It is written so well that I can visuaize everything..Keep up the good work, and thanks Lee for the kind words. Pam
Pam <sholman@tmlp.com>
- Thursday, August 28, 2003 at 21:00:44 (PDT)

Good Heavens, Lee. That was a story tonight that flowed beautifully! "Amo te" (giggle)
Joan Pa USA
- Thursday, August 28, 2003 at 20:39:36 (PDT)

TRUE LOVE'S CURSE: Thursday

While in his arms, she drew upon his amazing strength as she did so often in recent days. She whispered to him softly as he continued to embrace her.
“I need to be with you tonight Severus, I need to be close to you. I need to love you.”
She spoke the words that were in his own mind. The words he would have spoken.
He closed his eyes for several moments and steeled his mind in preparation to meet his unseen opponent.

He picked her up; his lover, and carried her to his bed where she, on the crisp, cool linen would lay; unmatched in form and feature; of quintessential beauty. He removed his coat and wand, and put out lamps, then advanced toward her.

"Amo te" He wispered, close to her, almost painfully so.
"Magis amo te" She responded.

The kiss was the apotheosis of passion as they sought to venerate to the highest, each sacred grain of sand contained in the hourglass that was his life, precious moments of fleeting time shared together.
Agile fingers were adept, as peels of black attire were striped away to reveal the very felicity of mortal subsistence, poised and wanting just beneath the surface lain. Their clothing dispatched in layers, striking the floor in a disheveled parade of disorderly conduct, its noble reign no longer required.

The blackness in the room sharpened senses to a razor’s edge. His fingertips slowly traversed oblique surfaces of toned muscle over long angular bone, under silky alabaster skin as soft as rose petals; savoring every cherished nuance.
His kiss became tender and lingering as her hands and mind unwearyingly learned every aspect of him, sleek contours memorized by heart, as was each one of his subtle desires.

The altruistic, patient lovers slowly and cautiously pressed the curse to boundary’s limits, protected partially by the power contained within in the Juliet diamond, but more so by Severus’s will of iron as he skillfully made a mockery of his twice scorned adversary in spite of it.

In the end, the red glow could have been seen from an outside castle window, had anyone been of a mind to look. As the night drew to a close, she slept soundly as he held her ever close to his heart both physically and emotionally and in balanced measure. He kept a watchful eye over her all night as her protector, as if she would suddenly be gone had he closed his eyes to nap and just before the dawn she awakened to the familiar sound of his beating heart and the comforting touch of his fingers gently intertwined in her hair which bore witness to his divine love for her as no spoken word ever could.

lee
Thanks again Anne! Forgive me Claire, farm work calls. Better late ? : ), - Thursday, August 28, 2003 at 15:14:44 (PDT)

Lee, Will'st you'd leave me so unsatisfied?
Claire <PRAGUE@IWON.COM>
- Thursday, August 28, 2003 at 13:19:22 (PDT)

Ed and Claudia

The handmaiden took Ed to a corridor that had recently seen a comical chase - the Doctor disappearing on short legs, ahead of a large number of long-legged, grey-clad women. There was no sign, however that they had been there only minutes before.

“This is where I brought the Doctor,” the handmaiden told Ed.

“Thank you… what is your name?”

“Lostris.”

He bent and kissed her forehead. “Thank you, Lostris.”

-----------------------

In a closet, not too far away, Claudia recognised a voice. “Its Ed.” She said, and opened the door in time to witness the kiss. The handmaiden left with a bow, just as Anton Gruber appeared round the corner. Claudia felt a pang, and tried to dismiss it.

“Ed!” she called, and walked towards him. His smile quickly turned to a frown as he realised what he was doing. And as he saw a stranger following a few paces behind Claudia, he felt a pang, and tried to dismiss it.

“Who is the peroxide poof?” Ed looked the bare-chested stranger up and down. He sounded petulant, and it made him angry with himself. And as he spoke, his voice was tinged with that anger, so it came out harsher than he’d intended. “And what were you doing with him, in there?”

“Hiding. The Doctor went that way, I think,” she pointed down the corridor. “He was being chased. We were trying to get into the computers, and I don’t think the guards were happy.”

“Guards? Hmmm. We need to get out of here.” Once the pretence of a holiday resort, a place of relaxation had been broken, there was no telling what the Overseer would do. Ed took off in the direction she had indicated, and Anton followed him, trying hard to ignore the atmosphere between the trio. Why did people always have to make relationships zo complicated?

“No kidding.”

Spike lent close and spoke close to her ear. “Who is the scarecrow?”

“He is my boyfriend. Was my boyfriend. I’m not quite sure now. Anyway, he’s not a scarecrow! That’s bed hair, and it’s very sexy.”

Spike ran a hand over his own smooth blonde hair, not a single hair out of place. Even if he’d been hanging upside down on that wall, Claudia doubted it would have moved. “No, this, is sexy. You’ll have to introduce us, and perhaps I can give him some tips.”

“Well, if you’ll hurry up, I think we should follow him, before we all get into more trouble.”

“You know, the best way to get over a man, is to get on top of another.”

“Thanks, that’s very helpful advice,” she rolled her eyes at him, and took off after Anton and Ed.
Claudia
- Wednesday, August 27, 2003 at 19:08:48 (PDT)

Still on the *cinder* path of the South Rose Garden:

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Mistral’s tone was contemptuous. Of her concerns or of her Cindie didn’t know. She supposed both.

He continued on, “The idea of you as prey is ridiculous. Although you certainly prey upon my mind enough.” He rubbed his temples making little circles with his fingertips. She did prey upon his thoughts. Until now it had never occurred to him to wish it any other way. What did she want from him? He ought not have to justify himself for things which occurred before he even knew her. Damn it, why couldn’t she simply shrug this off and give him peace? He’d offered it to her. Offered his hand and instead she went on parroting that witch that continued to cling to him as though the attraction hadn’t long worn off for them both. He was like a bad habit for her and he didn’t have it in him to scrape her off. But Cindie, she had seemed like his salvation. Perhaps that was too much to expect of anyone. Particularly since he’d given her precious little reason to know it.

Cindie lashed out, “do you think you don’t prey upon mine? That creature conjured up enough images to keep me sleepless for quite some time.” She was standing now as well, her hands clenched into fists at her sides, pad and pen lay forgotten on the bench.

“Are we back to that?” He sounded weary.

“Yes, it would seem we are. What you could possibly see in that vile creature-- ” Cindie allowed, “--of course she’s stunning.”

“Jessica is extraordinarily beautiful. She has to be; it’s all she has.” He was matter of fact. There was no indication he admired or even cared for that beauty.

Cindie began to feel her anger dissipate but clung to it. It was better to be angry. “But how could you? She made it sound like you… like you…” Cindie was unable to bring herself to say it out loud. “And her friend… with her too…” That was only part of it of course, but it was something tangible that she could latch onto. “The only time I’ve been in your bed was with your cat.”

A smile tugged at Mistral’s lips. “You should be honored, Annabelle is very particular about her sleeping partners.”

That play of a smile was like tossing petrol on dying coals. “It’s a shame you don’t share your cat’s discriminating tastes.” As soon as she said the words she knew they were a mistake. She wanted to provoke him, to make him angry and give herself a reason to yell and yell and yell at him. Why didn’t he tell that woman who she was? Why did he stay with Jessica and leave her alone at the fountain? Why did he bed that creature and not her? What was wrong with *her*?

Mistral did the thing that only a man with an expressive and mobile face can do. Feature by feature, muscle by muscle, he stilled until Cindie felt that she was looking at a bronze of the man she’d come to love. There was no outstretched hand now. Her ranting died unexpressed in the face of that impassive obstacle. Now she wanted that hand, wanted it more than anything. She wanted him to reach out to her and she would take his hand and he would pull her close and embrace her and tell her everything would be all right. He would murmur endearments in her ear in Welsh and she would tell him she knew she was being silly. He would tell her that he wanted only her and that any past conduct was in the past only and that there would never be anyone else and that there had never been anyone else like her. He would say that those affairs left him un-sated and heartsick. Perhaps he would even joke that he would soon drive any doubts from her mind in terms that brooked no uncertainty. He would tell her that he loved her only.

He did none of those things.

Perhaps if she’d called out to him he would have stopped and turned around. She didn’t call out.

Cindie
Better late than later? , - Wednesday, August 27, 2003 at 18:42:37 (PDT)

I've tried to ring, Suz. No answer. I wonder if they're just on holiday.
Claudia
- Wednesday, August 27, 2003 at 17:32:26 (PDT)

TRUE LOVE'S CURSE: Wednesday

Gwenevere faced Severus squarely and looked into his eyes before speaking.
“You have invited me into your soul tonight Severus.” She said quietly, her eyes were dark and intense. She felt close to him here, as if she were surrounded by him; touching him, breathing him, feeling him inside her deepest core. She stood poised and quiet, listening in anticipation.

“You are my destiny Gwenevere and it is now time to finalize the inevitable.” He said quietly, his eyes deep with sincerity as he slipped the Juliet Diamond from his pocket and on to her long elegant finger, then quickly pulled her in close and braced himself for the inundation that was to come.
Gwenevere took a sharp breath in as light and rushing air swept through the room, an empty crystal brandy snifter on the desk exploded; shattering with awesome force, flames danced wildly inside their rattling crystal globes as the diamond’s powerful magic was being released after a century of bitter containment. He gently eased his embrace as the process quieted. Gwenevere's stare seized upon the diamond and she was stricken speechless, captivated by its power, magnificence and splendor. After several long and intense moments she reluctantly drew her eyes away and looked up at Severus.

“Severus, it is glorious beyond description, and I pray I am so deserved that you extol me thus.” She said earnestly.

“Wherein has the Juliet diamond proven it’s so deserved of you Gwenevere?” He said quietly.

Their eyes met and solemnity settled heavily upon them, they wanted to make love but knew it would be a fatal mistake. The occasion served to remind them that his life hung in the balance and though the Juliet diamond may be very powerful, it had failed to save even a single wizard from the vicious curse since its inception five hundred years ago.

He framed her face in his warm gentle hands and the newly engaged lovers shared a lengthily savored kiss. The moment was soulful and intense; she loved him with all her heart and could not bear to imagine life without him. She fought to hold back hot tears as she kissed him. The room was quiet and still, she feared her heart would burst if it were not authenticated.

lee
Okay Claire! I will. I am writing right now. lol. : ), - Wednesday, August 27, 2003 at 08:39:25 (PDT)

Thank you, I'm not that good on computers. Still learning:)
Clair <prague@iwon.com>
Lee, please keep writing., - Wednesday, August 27, 2003 at 06:20:25 (PDT)

The Imperial Palace, Justice Chamber: “Colonel Christopher Brandon, to the stand.”

Mary Anne gives a little start of astonishment. Christopher?

She had not thought of his being called to speak; after all, it was she who had been commanded to appear. But they must have known he would never permit me to be here without him. Oh, my darling--!

Brandon gets to his feet and, pausing only to take Mary Anne’s hand and give it a gentle squeeze, walks to the stand with the resolute expression of a martyr approaching the stake. Placing his hands upon the book, he is duly sworn and takes his seat.

Brandon’s questioner—not Rupert Cadell, but an older man named Mansel—begins the proceedings with preliminary questions to establish Brandon’s character and position in The Realm. Listening the replies, Mary Anne relaxes slightly as Brandon’s clear, calm voice carries to the furthest row of the chamber, and for the moment she thinks of nothing and no one else: not the Empress, nor the crowd, nor even that man loaded with chains--only her husband called upon to reveal what he would certainly prefer to conceal. But there is no help for it and he must speak.

“Colonel Brandon, if you would relate for us the circumstances under which you first became acquainted with The Interrogator?”

“It was some years ago, sir. It was when Miss Renie—“ Brandon catches himself. “I should say, Mrs. Gruber, for she is now the wife of Herr Hans Gruber. But at that time—“ Brandon looks at the floor. “She had been the wife of The Interrogator.”

A ripple of surprise runs through the chamber, but Mansel raises one hand and order is immediately restored.

Mary Anne risks a sidewise glance at the Grubers. Anton, long practiced in concealing his thoughts, appears to be calling upon every moment of that experience; a stone might betray more expression. His assistant Cynthia is pale but composed; catching her quick look toward Hans, Mary Anne turns just in time to see his gaze fastened upon The Interrogator’s cage.

The instant he senses his eyes upon her, Hans nods to Mary Anne with a smile meant as reassurance, but she cannot forget that look of his—a sword half-drawn from its sheath and then returned until a more convenient season.

Brandon continues. “The lady came to me for assistance and, at her request, I concealed her from her husband—I thought successfully, until one evening when I was walking in my grounds, and . . . The Interrogator appeared before me, near the entrance gates. I only knew HIM from her descriptions, but I recognized almost instantly who it must be. Before I could draw a weapon, HE had disappeared.”

“Disappeared? You mean, that HE had gone away?”

“Yes, though it was so quickly done, it was almost as if HE had vanished. Perhaps HE had already established a place in the West Wood; it had long had an evil name—“

At a rustle from the Council table, Mansel again raises one hand to halt this line of response, which might be taken as speculative at this point. “And Colonel, what did you do, once you had reason to believe HE was so near?”

Brandon looks up, directly into Mansel’s eyes. “I sent the lady away at once, without stopping for anything.”

Mansel nods, then steps toward the table to examine some documents before he turns once more to the stand. “Now, Colonel, let us proceed to your next encounter with The Interrogator.”

Mary Anne, knowing and dreading what must come next, clenches her hands tightly upon the arms of her chair. This is a matter to which Brandon hardly ever refers, and then only in the most oblique terms, a memory that must be terrible beyond recounting. However, as he begins to speak of it now, his voice is almost . . . nonchalant, as though by casually approaching the subject he can take it by surprise and reduce it to bearable terms.

“It began when Mister P.L. O’Hara was teaching me to ride upon his motorcycle . . .”

MA--post somewhat reconstructed, but hopefully faithful enough to the lost original . . .
Suzanne, is everything okay? Let us hear from you, please!, - Wednesday, August 27, 2003 at 06:08:04 (PDT)

Hi Claire - this is the July page - It starts at 1 July and goes through August.
Claudia
- Tuesday, August 26, 2003 at 13:59:09 (PDT)

I was wondering why I can't find the July page? Oh, and Lee, I have found that I can no longer work until I finish the whole story. When you finish this epic, please start another as quickly as possible, for you are very talented.
Claire <prague@iwon.com>
- Tuesday, August 26, 2003 at 12:09:35 (PDT)

TRUE LOVE'S CURSE: Tuesday, 26th Aug.

They dined by candlelight, though neither of them was interested in the superb cuisine. Furtive glances above slender crystal rims met fiery dark eyes, as they distractedly engaged in polite conversation suitable for the table, apart from the occasional double entendre adding heat to the meal.
When they had finished the last of the Lafite-Rothschild 1989 vintage, Gwenevere watched as Severus absently traced the rim of his glass with his index finger as the passing time blurred into oblivion and the dessert lay unnoticed on the table in front of them.

Severus set the glass down on the table and moved to where she was. He gently took her left hand in his and she gracefully rose to meet him, gazing into his eyes.
“Come to my den, that I may beseech you, my love.” He kissed her ring finger marking a place in time in which her hand would everlastingly bear his proclamation that she was his lover exclusively, forsaking all others past and future.

He led her into his den, which had been closed away each time she had been to his residence on prior occasions. Gwenevere knew the implication of his choosing this location. This was Severus’s private domain, a place where he came to be alone and to think.

The room was tastefully furnished and had a portentous ambiance deeply infused and cerebral in nature. There was an expensive, one of a kind, black and tan oriental rug custom made to rest correctly upon the highly polished wooden floors beneath it, a large black desk; neatly kept, and stone fireplace with polished vintage andirons on raised hearth.
Heavy bookcases displayed an impressive collection of well-read classics. A circa 1784 sterling silver and etched crystal decanter signed by Wakelin himself held aged liquid amber. On the walls were antique Victorian brass sconces and rare art, long accustomed to receiving singular admiration.
The atmosphere inside smelled deliciously of wood smoke, lamp oil, and polished antiques, it was heavy and dark and everything Severus.

A certain reverence was required upon entering, and the significance was unmistakable.

lee
You are SO welcome Chandra!!!Thank you. lol. Claire Thank you as well, I am glad you like the story. Just click on the "Back Issues of FoF" and find "May 2003." then go to the bottom of the page. May 5th is the first story. I hope you enjoy your reading!, - Tuesday, August 26, 2003 at 07:08:16 (PDT)

I have missed the meeting of Snape and his love. How would I be able to catch myself up with the rest of you?
Claire <PRAGUE@IWON.COM>
A question, - Tuesday, August 26, 2003 at 06:33:47 (PDT)

This is what keeps me going at work, Lee.
Claire <PRAGUE@IWON.COM>
please, please, - Tuesday, August 26, 2003 at 06:24:29 (PDT)

The Palace
A break just before C. Brandon is called to the stand:

Much to Cynthia’s dismay she found herself trembling as she stood with her back pressed against a marble column. What was worse was she didn’t really know the source of the tremors. The testimony thus far had been chilling but certainly not explicit. It reminded her of one of those stories that you read that didn’t seem that scary until you got to the end and all the parts came together. Only this story was still on the introduction.

The cool stone along the length of her back bone was welcome and she closed her eyes against the swirl of spectators attired in their courtly best. The scent of lavender and bergamot informed her of his presence before his speech. Her eyes remained closed but her head turned toward the direction in which she knew his face lay. There was a rustle of silk which told her that he was reclining against the same column as she. He didn’t speak but she felt him take and clasp her hand. It was a moment of solidarity; it was a moment of quiet calm in the midst of milling people and the maelstrom of unfolding events. Cynthia realized that the tremors had ceased. Her hand was lifted and kissed and returned to her side before aromatic lavender water faded away into the crowd.

That fading scent was replaced almost immediately by that of sandalwood soap. This time her companion spoke, cutting through the moment of calm she’d just experienced. “You need to be careful where he is concerned.”

She blinked her eyes open. “What, Valmont? He’s been very kind and supportive, I’m beginning to think that his reputation may be somewhat …exaggerated.” Her gaze focused on Anton, “You know people aren’t always what they seem.”

“Ja, I know.”

Cindie
Riposte-ing. I mean re-posting. , - Monday, August 25, 2003 at 17:27:01 (PDT)

Phil Allen & Barbara Vanders

FoF Sets -- Design Department

"... starting tomorrow!"

"What?"

"Yeah, I know!"

"Bane, that's wonderful!"

Barbara, on her way back from lunch, stopped cold. What was Meagan doing up here?" she wondered. Hesitating a moment, she strode over to Bane's half-open door. She rapped on it with her knuckles.

"Come in." Bane had coiled his tall frame down in front of his computer, cup of steaming chai on his immaculate desk.

"Sorry," Barbara said, "but I overheard from the hallway." Bane grinned at Meagan, the tiny dynamo in charge of Costuming, and she turned a smile back at him. "So I was wondering, Bane," Barbara continued. "What's wonderful?"

"The Director authorized a new storyline."

Barbara felt her eyes grow wide. "Really?!" she asked. "When?"

"Just today."

Barbara stared at him a bit, then the coins dropped. "And you get to design for it," she breathed. "That is wonderful! You've been doing support design too long."

Bane looked at her with surprise, while Meagan chuckled. "Told you," she said.

Barbara glanced over. "Told you what?" she asked.

Bane flushed guiltily. "I thought you'd be upset you didn't get first run at it," he said. "But Meagan told me --"

"-- I told him that he was out of his mind and you would be happy for him," Meagan finished.

Barbara shook her head. "Bane, I have more than enough to do, with the designs for the Trial. Mary Anne has me still doing mock-ups for that Surprise Twist she and Renie have cooked up."

"Oh?" Meagan asked. "What is it?"

Barbara laughed. "I don't know. They won't tell me."

Bane snorted. "Well, that's not much good here."

"True," Barbara acknowledged with a knowing smirk. There was a moment of accord, among three designers who dealt with writers who weren't quite sure what they wanted -- only that what they were seeing on paper wasn't "it." "No," Barbara added, "I don't begrudge you a bit having a new mind to read." Bane groaned and Meagan giggled. "I'm getting quite accomplished at reading Mary Anne's. Her 'I'd like to see it a little bit more...'" she waved her hands vaguely, "'you know' is actually starting to make sense."

Bane grimaced. "That's frightening."

Meagan giggled.

Barbara laughed. "Well, I'd hate to have to start over, at any rate."

Meagan stood. "I have to get back. We've got to make some dupes of the Delaford group's Trial wardrobes. Some of the scenes are supposed to get a little wild." Bane rose to his feet. At six-foot-two, he towered over her.

Somehow they managed it; he leaned down, she turned her face up, flowerlike, and rose to her toes for a kiss. Watching them, Barbara felt a sudden spasm, hot and cold and sick-feeling. "I have to run, too," she said, as Meagan slipped out the door. She stuck out her hand to Bane. "Congratulations. You deserve it." Suddenly Bane's office was too small. She had to get out.

"Thanks, Barbara," he said and coiled down into his chair again.

She gave him a short smile and left the room, closing the door behind her. Somehow she stumbled into her office and dropped into her comfortable chair. That sick feeling, that longing mixed with anger, still squirmed in her stomach. She wondered at it. Bane deserves this. What was her problem? She'd never been jealous of --

Jealous.

Of Bane? The idea seemed absurd. Bane was good at what he did -- he was. He wasn't quite up on historical design, but his contemporary work was exceptional. What he'd done in the Nakatomi designs had been breath-taking. He had his strengths, and she had hers. She couldn't be jealous of Bane's work.

Being jealous of Bane's work was not... no, not for the work, she realized. For the kiss. That kiss he'd shared with Meagan, utterly unlike the kisses she'd seen between George and Joya, so very unlike the kisses she'd had, once, from Bernard. That kiss, at that end of a conversation; that kiss, and what it stood for. That companionship, that friendship, that ease between them. So very much like what she'd had with Phil.

And thrown away.

Damn Phil, she thought. Tears welled up in her eyes and she covered up her mouth to hide the pain. (homage) Damn Phil.

And damn me.

Barbara the Wallpaperer
"... and we cover up our mouths to hide the pain" from Eric Folkerth's song about the Shuttle Columbia. Lyrics at http://www.ericfolkerth.com/restwelllyrics.htm or click on my name to link, - Monday, August 25, 2003 at 17:16:10 (PDT)

Lee!!! thank you.
Chandra
I bow before you -- "I am not worthy.....", - Monday, August 25, 2003 at 17:12:32 (PDT)

TRUE LOVE'S CURSE: Monday 8/25

Gwenevere drew a warm bath to which several drops of Hermes were added and settled into the tub. She closed her eyes and relaxed her breathing, letting the information contained within the book drift gently around in her mind unguided.
She wondered what Severus had in mind for this evening; she knew it would be special as it took powerful forces to inspire him to go to London for purposes other than purely professional. She finished her bath and stood wrapped in a fluffy white towel in front of the wardrobe perusing the many choices at her disposal. The choice was clear and the towel dropped to the floor. She dressed for Severus tonight.

She regarded her image in the mahogany mirror whilst applying makeup. Her eyes were dark and mysterious this evening as a result of the high emotions surrounding the day. As alluring as her eyes were normally, with their vivid ever-changing colors and bewitching intensity, the black mascara enhanced their effect, which served to strengthen their magical transfixing effect on members of the opposite sex. She normally didn’t bother with makeup, however tonight; she had special plans in mind for one member of the opposite sex in particular.

She brushed her long glossy hair and as a final touch, she strategically traced the crystal stopper down the side of her throat, knowing full well, the scent would drive him mad, in the best possible sense.

Severus answered the door before she had the chance to knock. He was clad in black formal, and had a blazing intensity in his eyes, well beyond that which Gwenevere had ever seen previously. She knew that Severus was infuriated beyond description at having to obey the rules of a curse. His awesome concentration and intense manner had a very profound effect on Gwenevere, causing her eyes to linger long enough to insult decorum. He was ultra pure, unadulterated, classic Snape and beware the soul who dares stand in his way for the next twenty days.

Severus was immediately taken aback. His reaction unnerved him, causing him to inwardly fight to regain his composure and control his emotions. It reminded him of being in close proximity of her initially; in the early days after their first meeting, and how it took his every effort to appear aloof and collected despite the turmoil that surged within him.

She was wearing strikingly sexy formal black evening attire, which he had not seen her in prior to tonight. The dress, custom designed for her at John Phillips by their top designer, accentuated her flawless figure and long, slender legs, causing his pulse to throb and his rushing thoughts to threaten betrayal of his newly regained self-confident exterior.
She had a profound affect on him tonight.

A lesser man would have been overwhelmingly distracted, unable to utter a single intelligible word while surrendering his soul at her feet, on the other hand, a staunch purest would have appreciated her technical faultlessness of figure and classic beauty packaged to perfection, yet missed the rich subtleties such as her fluidity of motion, radiating intelligence and sovereign grace of presence. Severus was neither. He appreciated the full gamut.

Around her neck was a diamond solitaire necklace. The fine platinum chain drew attention to her delicate collarbones and the large fiery diamond rested in the divot between them. Her eyes were like black diamonds and had a mesmerizing effect on him. She was absolutely breathtaking and had a refinement of elegance, sophistication, and beauty that was unmatched in flesh, page, canvas or stone.

He stood behind her and gently slid her robes from her bare shoulders, and as he did so, he moved her hair aside and seductively kissed the base of her neck, sending tiny tingles up her spine and a fluttering sensation in her stomach. The light whispering scent of her cologne teased his senses as he slowly turned her to face him and let his gaze take her in completely, savoring the vision before him. Their eyes met with the same intensity he remembered having last night just before making love to her. He held her close and felt the need to steady her slightly as he whispered to her privately his inner most thoughts, and complemented her beauty before kissing her hello in a manner worthy of the sentiment.
The evening’s lovemaking had already begun.

lee
I should be caught up now., - Monday, August 25, 2003 at 17:07:46 (PDT)

TRUE LOVE'S CURSE: Week OF 8/18 - 8/22

Severus stood and paced the room once or twice slowly as he contemplated the Juliet diamond he had obtained this morning.

“What are your thoughts regarding this information Severus?” she sighed, deep concern written on her face as she rubbed her temples for a moment.

“There is no doubting the presence of the charm, and the curse. The charm is magnificent it’s the curse I can gladly do without. We need to find out what the seven rules are in order to have the slightest chance of surviving the thing.” He said, more thinking aloud than anything else.

“I’m sure you detected the same clues as I did, contained in the description of the curse.” She said, adding more clotted cream to her morsel of scone and politely placing it in her mouth.

“Yes, the forty day duration, which means the marriage ceremony must take place on or near the fortieth day.” He bitterly surmised, quickly calculating that they were at the halfway mark. If he was correct in his assumption, he would not be able to marry Gwenevere next weekend as he had planned; and there was much more to staying alive than not-so-simple abstinence. He was entirely convinced that it was the abstinence itself that nearly killed him last night, unless of course…there was a way around it somehow.
Gwenevere watched Severus as he paced several more lengths before joining her again.

“There are seven rules to uncover, and we know the seventh rule in part, is abstinence until after the marriage ceremony. I am relieved that we conducted ourselves appropriately. You are quite the gentleman Severus and had you acted any differently, things may have gotten out of hand and may have led to…well don’t let’s think about what could have happened. The important thing is that the sparks are still present, hence the curse is still dormant according to the book.” She took a sip of tea; trying not to think about the possibility that her own weakness may have killed Severus had he decided to push the intimacy issue. She liked to think that she would have remained strong in her convictions no matter what, however; she would never really know the answer. She shuddered at the thought of the danger they were in for so long and didn’t even realize it.

“You are not giving yourself enough credit Gwenevere, the truth being; you are the reason for our restraint. I was only respecting your wishes in the matter. I am far from the saint you portray me to be.” He told the truth, but withheld the heavily qualifying dynamics attached from his point of view, however, he decided it best to change the subject, although not wholly convincingly, before Gwenevere’s fertile mind refocused and started thinking of questions to ask him concerning his past.

Is it possible to outwit the curse?” He wondered aloud, sliding a sideways glance at her before lifting his mug and drifting into deep thought once again. Gwenevere speculated that Severus was planning to intellectually infiltrate Kevin’s slimy mind in the near future and wreak havoc in it. She noticed the diversion, and the glance however; the subject of his falling from sainthood would wait for another day if in fact she chose to delve there at all. He was entitled to his privacy and she had no intensions of invading it now or ever. Another thought commandeered her attention.

“Knowledge of the rule dies with the victim, which means Sir Nicholas’s rabbits potentially knows of the rule that killed each of them.” Severus, who was deep in his own thoughts at the moment, didn’t hear her quiet conclusion and Gwenevere thought it best not to repeat it, as the idea of Sir Nearly Headless Nick was a bit of a sore subject with him lately.

“Gwenevere I need to leave for a little while, meet me at my place for a late supper? I picked up a little something for you in London today.” He said, as he finished his tea, kissed her goodbye, collected his wand and coat and crossed the room toward the door.

Gwenevere picked up the book again and reread chapter twenty-four, hoping to gleam from it new clues they may have missed the first time.
lee
That should read: Friday 8/15/03, - Monday, August 25, 2003 at 16:58:39 (PDT)

TRUE LOVE'S CURSE: fRIDAY 9/13

True Love at First Sight (Continued)

If you discover that you have only “Love at First Sight,” take heart! In the 16th century, a cruel curse was attached to the original charm and no one since has ever been able to survive this bittersweet fate.
The deadly curse was conjured by Sir Kevin the Snakeless. He earned the nickname “snakeless” because he so hated all snakes that he rid his entire domain of them, at great personal expenditures. The efforts chipped away at the sizable family fortune until it had been completely diminished, and so he died a penniless pauper.
Sir Kevin was an unpopular and selfish wizard who was obsessed with a young woman called Juliet. Juliet bitterly despised Sir Kevin the snakeless and was truly, madly, deeply in love with another whose name is unknown, so he is referred to as “Romeo.”
Juliet and her lover were the first to die as a result of the evil curse by quickly falling victim to the last rule. The curse is diabolically designed, enlisting a set of seven arbitrary rules that are specifically designed to be almost impossible for T.L.A.F.S. lovers to follow. According to Sir. Kevin, the rules are said to be laden with hidden meanings designed to ensnare the hapless pair. The curse can only be broken if the lovers succeed in following each one of the arbitrary rules that govern them via the curse, for the forty day duration at which time a marriage ceremony must follow.
Only one of the rules is known because specific knowledge of the broken rule typically dies along with the victim. The couple must navigate within the curse’s cunning and deadly parameters. This is akin to walking a treacherous road, laden with deadly snares, whilst wearing a blindfold. The only saving grace is that the couple will be reunited in the sprit world for all eternity.

Gwenevere took a deep breath and looked at Severus with bewilderment.

“Lets find out what the indicators are.” Severus said gravely as they turned the page.

THE FIVE CHARACTERISTS OF TRUE LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT

5. Gradually, as physical attraction increases, the air will become charged with a red sparks of light, when TLAFS couples touch, caused by a build up of hormonal kinetic energy, or “chemistry” which fuels the over production of pheromones.
This red light is magical and extremely useful as it serves as a barometer, which works to let the couple know when they have activated the curse by breaking one of the rules that govern them. As long as the red light is present, the curse presumably lies dormant.
The only known rule is that the marriage must take place on a particular day after the first meeting and having an affair will activate the curse. The consummation must not ensue following the marriage ceremony until after “ the designated time has past as was arbitrarily chosen by Sir Kevin.” The arbitrary waiting time is not currently known.

lee
Thanks Claudia, Here goes! I have missed this so much!, - Monday, August 25, 2003 at 16:44:57 (PDT)

Hi all I've had no word at all from Hypermart yet this week. Or from Suz.

I wonder if we should start posting again, and I'll back up the page every day incase of mishaps.

Perhaps if you have saved your missing posts, you could post them again. And save all future posts, until this is sorted, just in case.

I can get back in to edit the page now, which is one good thing.

I think I'll suffer from withdrawal if this goes on too long!
Claudia <claudia@paradise.net.nz>
- Monday, August 25, 2003 at 16:04:39 (PDT)

Just a little more into the life of the new lovers. I have really loved my readings.
Claire <PRAGUE@IWON.COM>
You are not serious!!!, - Monday, August 25, 2003 at 13:05:15 (PDT)

TRUE LOVE'S CURSE: Thursday

Extremely Rare Gifts and Extremely Rare Charms

The Unexplainable, Explained.

True Love at First Sight

True Love at First Sight is no ordinary love; it has been aptly called “steadfast ecstasy” in the form of an extremely rare and wonderfully potent charm affecting very few wizards and witches. T.L.A.F.S. occurs when two people meet, whose personalities are extremely compatible and who also share an extreme form of physical attraction or “chemistry.” Other factors such as ancestry and metabolic structure also play a significant roll, and should not be disregarded. T.L.A.F.S. is actually a profound real life trilogy of love consisting of equal parts mind, body and spirit that form a bond that grows steadily stronger and lasts throughout the normal life span and continuing its duration as it crosses over into the sprit world and possibly beyond.
Specifically, this rare combination unleashes kinetic energy causing over abundant pheromone production. If you are reading this and think that you may have T.L.A.F.S., chances are better that you actually have “ Love at First Sight.” which is a safe and amiable, although tremendously diluted form of the original. There are five indicators associated with T.L.A.F.S. and they must all be present in order to verify the rare occurrence.

“Steadfast ecstasy. I like that…” Severus said in his lowest, silkiest, voice, glancing towards Gwenevere with a sly expression partially meant as humor, but then again…partially not. He couldn’t help recalling their recent time together, which clearly pleased him.

“Yes, well they certainly described it correctly in my opinion.” Her expressive eyes widened and then looked away as she smiled, she too indulged in the memories for a moment or two before turning her page over to Severus’s side and he secured it with his thumb for further reading.

“And now for the curse.” He said, as Gwenevere hastily met his eyes with a look of apprehension and reassuringly slid her left hand down to rest on his right knee, affectionately caressing it with her thumb. He absently entwined his fingers in her hair again just as he had been doing ever since they had started reading. They read on...

lee
Did you see I had to cut myself off from the use of Italics?, - Wednesday, August 13, 2003 at 17:22:26 (PDT)

Sorry! Comming right up! after long and gruelling HTML.
lee
- Wednesday, August 13, 2003 at 17:07:53 (PDT)

Lee: Dungeon! Now! Detention and 50 points from...whatever for cruel and unusual suspense.
CdC
- Wednesday, August 13, 2003 at 16:18:28 (PDT)

Ann - I think I remember a TV series like that. It was on late at night though. BtW - Regular Claudia will be released next week. So, don't panic too much. Things will return to normal.
Claudia <claudia@paradise.net.nz>
- Wednesday, August 13, 2003 at 13:38:36 (PDT)

Claudia, A quick post to correct my previous one. I read the "Ed and Claudia" chapter again; your character suffered the memory wipe and J. Fforde's Spike is a *werewolf* who hunts "suckers and biters", as he puts it, which show up in urban areas. Hmm. Did one inspire the other? ")
Ann W
Sheesh! Memory problems at MY age!!, - Wednesday, August 13, 2003 at 11:48:22 (PDT)

WANT TO BE AN EXTRA IN THE GOBLET OF FIRE? This is an extract from Empire Magazine (UK). I've had to post on FoF as this is the only part of the active Guestbook this library will let me on to! Just imagine sitting behind Snape and Malfoy - you wouldn't wipe the smile off my face with wire wool! GRAB A GOBLET: Want to be in Harry Potter and The Goblet of Fire? Yes you do and the good news is that you can because the casting office will be searching for extras from January 2004. Just send a short letter and photograph to: Casting Office, Leavesden Studios, PO Box 322, Watford, Hertfordshire, WD25 7XJ. But not before January, hear? Otherwise they'll just ignore you.
A Fish Needing Help
We Can All Dream!, - Wednesday, August 13, 2003 at 08:23:08 (PDT)

Who is this person and what has she done to Claudia?

Barbara the Wallpaperer
Well, I hope she stays, whomever she is ...., - Tuesday, August 12, 2003 at 21:43:41 (PDT)

I know, Janine, well preserved isn't he?

Cindie - I just thought vampires on top of aliens would just tip the scale. And it sounds rude. ;)

Hang on, some of my last post disappeared, will fix it.
Claudia
- Tuesday, August 12, 2003 at 18:17:02 (PDT)

Mr Masters birthday is the 20th Aug..1962 one site says that would make him 41. Thought you would like to know Claudia.
Janine
- Tuesday, August 12, 2003 at 18:08:17 (PDT)

Anton Gruber! Tie loosened, jacket off and feet bare?! Egads, what next!
Cindie
Thinking Vampires aren't *aliens* just people who don't need to breathe anymore (and have disgusting eating habits)..., - Tuesday, August 12, 2003 at 18:05:53 (PDT)

Ed and Claudia

Ed knocked on the doors closest his, and on his second try found Anton. A handmaiden opened the door, bowing her head slightly and looking down. He saw the senior Herr Gruber, bare foot, jacket off, and tie loosened. He was leaning back in a chair, with his eyes closed. Another handmaiden was giving him a face and scalp massage.

“Herr Gruber,” said Ed, stepping inside the room. “I think we need to find the others. Do you know where they are?”

“Hmm?” Anton opened his eyes slowly. He’d never felt so relaxed. Never let himself get so relaxed. “Is there a problem?”

“I think there might be. We should go as soon as possible. Is the Doctor close by?”

Anton slowly stood up and reached for his jacket, sliding his arms in one by one, and tightening the tie. He stood in front of a mirror, and straightened his hair. “I do not know, Ed, really I do not. I’m not even sure how long I have been here. I may have fallen asleep, briefly.” He tilted his head with an apologetic look.

Ed had an idea, he didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it before. He turned to the handmaiden who had opened the door for him. Up until now, he’d never spoken to one, never actually had a proper conversation. It had never occurred to him to. They did as he asked, and bowed their heads, and that was their function. “Excuse me,” he said. “Do you know where the Doctor is, and Claudia?”

“The Doctor left a little while ago,” she said. “He asked for directions to our computers, and I showed him the way.”

“Do you think you could show us where he went?”

“Of course, I am here to do as you wish.”

“Great!” He hugged the girl. “You’ve been a great help already. I’ll make sure I let the Overseer know how well you do your job.”

“Thank you, Ed.” She blushed and bowed her head.

“Come on, Anton. We need to get moving.” He turned back to the handmaiden. “And Claudia?”

“I am not sure. She was taken to you. When you left, she left. I am not certain where she will be right at this moment.”

“She was with me.” He felt guilty for running off like that. But she was too close. He couldn’t handle it, he couldn’t breath with her that close.

“I am ready.” Anton marched stiffly to the doorway. “Lead on, and I shall follow.”

“Um,” said Ed, and looked at Anton’s feet. “I think you’ve forgotten something.”
Claudia
- Tuesday, August 12, 2003 at 17:28:17 (PDT)

Spike from Buffy. But he's not a vampire in this. I thought I'd bent enough rules - the Director will be having kittens with the breaking of his "no aliens" rule! So having an actual vampire would really get me in trouble ;)

Someone thought it would be Spike from Notting Hill. But alas, he looks too much like Ed. LOL
Claudia
- Tuesday, August 12, 2003 at 17:01:00 (PDT)

Claudia -- the memory wipe means he's the Spike from "Buffy." Pity, the other guy (a vampire who's a vampire & werewolf hunter) would love to meet a courageous, resourceful and caring gal like you!:)
Ann W
Oh well. , - Tuesday, August 12, 2003 at 17:00:18 (PDT)

Claudia - Spike from Buffy, or "Spike" from Jasper Fforde's books?
Ann W
Please humor me., - Tuesday, August 12, 2003 at 16:54:52 (PDT)

Claudia and Ed

It was a small space. A storage closet. Her captor held her tightly, keeping the hand firmly over her mouth. A small amount of light filtered in round the edges of the door, but she couldn’t make out much. She heard running feet go passed in the corridor outside, shortly followed by a lot more running feet, and several female voices yelling for their quarry to stop. The noise faded away. Minutes passed with no noise except for their breathing. Slowly, the hold on her loosened, and the hand pulled away from her mouth.

She took a deep breath, which became a sob. She flung herself against the wall of the closet, and slid to the floor. “How did you find me here? How could you find me here?”

“Shhh. They might come back.”

Another sob. It wasn’t HIM. It wasn’t HIS voice. Why had she thought it would be HIM?

He crouched down to where she was hiding, and put a flat hand in the middle of her chest. It wasn’t a sexual touch, but one of concern. “There is a great darkness in here,” he said.

She looked up at him, her pupils large in the darkness. The small amount of light caught the white-blonde of his hair. “Lots of things have happened to me… too much. Someone tried to steal my past, to re-write it. We tried to put things right, but some nightmare things still happened to me. The Doctor tried to help, by removing the memory of it. It didn’t last. I don’t remember actually being there, but the memories are in my head, if that makes sense. I have to relive them every day.” A tear ran down her cheek, and she crossly wiped it away. He wouldn’t understand what she was talking about, but it was good to get it out. And perhaps it made it easier to say it, because he didn’t know what she meant.

The Interrogator had done things to her, drugged her, tortured her. Made her hate herself. Conditioned her to have feelings for him. At the very least it was like a strong gravitational pull, every time HE was near. She hadn’t known who HE was to begin with, it had been an adventure. HE’d known enough about her that the pull of adventure was excellent bait for the trap. Then she had gone back to him, after HE came to her dressed as a highwayman, and triggered the memories. She went of her own free will. Some damned crusade to protect her friends, or to avenge what had happened to her? She didn’t know anymore. Whatever it was, it had just taken her further into her darkness. Further away from who she used to be. Which she supposed had been the Interrogator’s intent from the beginning.

He took her hand and placed it on his bare chest. “I have a darkness inside too, I think I know how you feel.”

“Do you? I’m a different person now, because of those things. I can’t go back. I can’t be the person I was…” She looked into his eyes. “I don’t know what to do.”

“I know.” He said.

She shook her head. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this. I haven’t told anyone, not like this.”

“Sometimes its easier to confide in a stranger than a best friend. You don’t ever have to see them again, so perhaps the problem will go with them when they leave.”

“That’s a warped sense of logic.” She smiled.

He held out a hand to pull her up. “Come on pet, they’ll have gone by now. We’d best try and find your friend.”

She took his hand and pulled her self up, standing inches from him, as tall as him, and looking him straight in the eye. “Thank you. You’re not as dumb as you act, are you?”

“A facade, my shield. Sometimes it’s easier to hide behind the act, than to show your soul’s true face.”

“Exactly.” She smiled and kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks again, Spike.”

“Some people think I’m evil incarnate, but apart from that I’m actually quite a nice bloke.”
Claudia
Thanks Lee! ;), - Tuesday, August 12, 2003 at 16:40:31 (PDT)

TRUE LOVE'S CURSE: Wednesday

Gwenevere finished the last of her notes and closed the heavy potions book with a dull thud. She slipped off research gloves and glanced at her watch, noting that it was nearly four o’clock. She expected Severus back from London soon and was thinking of him now, as she stood up for a long stretch.
Severus had just returned to Hogwarts and stopped by his quarters to put the ring box away for safe keeping before crossing the corridor towards Gwenevere’s. He knocked twice and Gwenevere answered promptly.

“Severus,” She said, happy to see him.

“Gwenevere,” He kissed her hello. “I have missed you.” He purred, giving her yet another lingering kiss.

“Yes, I thought we were working today.” She said with a smile. She absently looped her fingers around a lock of his hair at the back of his neck.

“We will work tomorrow.” He said, waiving his hand in jest and lazily scattering a multitude of lively red sparks that had been newly generated.

She was just about to show Severus the book that Professor Dumbledore sent when a sharp rap on the door announced teatime and as Gwenevere collected the tray from Dobby, Severus removed his robes and coat then settled on the sofa in the living room, letting out a deep sigh. She set the tray down and Severus poured.

“I see Dobby has included your favorite scones today, you must have skipped lunch.” She observed, looking down at the plate.

“Yes, I did indeed skip lunch, but I made up for it, in advance of the fact, at breakfast this morning.” He said nonchalantly, and took a fresh scone and slathered it heavily with clotted cream for Gwenevere, then prepared one the customary way for himself. He set the cream jar down within easy reach of Gwenevere, making sure the sterling handle on the knife was pointing in her direction.
She sat down next to him and he handed her a mug of tea. She sipped her tea and suddenly remembered the book again.

“I have something to show you, it’s a book, given to us by the Headmaster, containing information about the charm.” She told him, as she set the mug down on the table. Gwenevere retrieved the disgusting specimen and handed to Severus. He flipped through the unreadable pages, set the book on the table then took out his wand.

“Exsarcio libellus” To Gwenevere’s delight, he touched the book with his wand and it became as good as new, almost. It was entitled:

Extremely Rare Gifts and Extremely Rare Charms: The Unexplainable, Explained. He found the book oddly familiar, as though he had seen it before, long, long ago, when he was a student a Hogwarts perhaps, suffocating through another late afternoon divination class while running low on caffeine …but never mind that, it is unimportant he thought to himself and shrugged off the memory.

Gwenevere and Severus sat closely together in the living room to look inside. He let his index finger trail down the table of contents page and turned to chapter twenty-four entitled True Love at First Sight. Gwenevere leant in close and Severus put his arm around her as they both started reading. This is what they saw:

lee
Go for it Claudia! Hurry!, - Tuesday, August 12, 2003 at 16:19:55 (PDT)

Clods, You page hog you! Do you have any idea how much I'm lovin' it?! Poor Spikey Poo, hung from the wall like that...
Cindie
*Still gibbering over Therese's post*, - Tuesday, August 12, 2003 at 15:30:27 (PDT)

By the way, I'm waiting for someone else to post a story, before I post my next bit, as I'm hogging the page at the moment.

(Can you believe I said that Cindie? haha)
Claudia
- Tuesday, August 12, 2003 at 14:25:13 (PDT)

Spam removed.

What's up, Deputy DoC?

MA - well, aren't you lucky?! Flowers! It isn't your birthday, or anything: just because. Grrr. ;)
Ann W
I could just about smell *them* too. :), - Tuesday, August 12, 2003 at 12:09:30 (PDT)

Lovely spam, wonderful spam! We've had an overload of it lately! Bring on the SPAM cart! Lovely lovely wonderful spam!
You Know Me
Nudge nudge know what I mean?, - Tuesday, August 12, 2003 at 12:08:48 (PDT)

It’s really more of a redundantcy than a contradiction is it not?
lurker
- Monday, August 11, 2003 at 21:06:08 (PDT)

Magda--oooohhh, that contradiction. I see.

MA
- Monday, August 11, 2003 at 20:30:35 (PDT)

Claudia and Ed

The Doctor and Claudia had gone back to the waiting room, and through another door before Will had caught up with them. It was totally planned by the Doctor, who was hoping their new acquaintance would choose the wrong door, and not find them again. So far, so good.

“This is it,” said the Doctor, waving his pocket calculator around the small new room.

“This is what?” asked Claudia, bemused. They were in a room with 2 desks and chairs. Small metallic pads were inset into the desks, and metal stylus lay beside each one.

“The computer room… What? Not what you were expecting?”

“No, where are the banks of computers, flashing lights, whirling tapes, machines that go ‘bing’.”

“My dear girl! Even earth technology has gone passed that. What were you expecting from a race that has interstellar flight capabilities? A ZX81? A computer that fills half the ship? Orac?”

“At least he had flashing lights. OK, you’re right. But it’s, well, just not the same without the flashing lights.”

The Doctor sat down at one of the desks and picked up a stylus. He gave no further thought to the barrage of stupid questions coming from Claudia’s direction. He knew she talked because she was nervous, unhappy, acting brave. He was seriously considering another mind block. He would have done it long before now, if it weren’t for the trial.

He concentrated totally on the computer in front of him, and finding out what he could about their hosts. And hoping to get some clue as to how they snared their visitors.

He had blocked out her noise, he didn’t immediately register when she said: “Shit! Doctor!”

A door had opened and two women in grey uniforms and come in, laughing about some fun they’d had on their off-shift. They didn’t immediately notice the two strangers. When they did there was a stunned surprise on their face. It was not a situation they’d ever encountered before, and they weren’t sure what to do.

Claudia pulled the stylus from the Doctor’s hand, and yanked on his arm. Then she ran. She hoped he followed, but she didn’t hang about to find out. She went back through to the waiting room, and out into the corridor, and legged it for all she was worth. Just before she turned a corner, she heard yelling, and the Doctor appeared in the corridor a way behind her.

She turned the corner to be greeted by an open hand, which grabbed her wrist, an arm snaked around and another hand went over her mouth. She was dragged through a doorway into darkness.
Claudia
Don't get used to all these posts - I won't be posting anything next week., - Monday, August 11, 2003 at 18:45:48 (PDT)

TRUE LOVE'S CURSE: Tuesday

The Jeweler’s eyes widened with the look of disbelief. When the box had arrived yesterday, he dreaded the implication of having such a rare and ostentatious responsibility; and he feared having its contents, together with its deadly associations, on the premises. He remembered thinking “one would wish to consign them to the rightful parties as quickly as possible as to avoid objectionable consequences of any kind.”

“Of course sir.” The jeweler said. He retrieved the box and gingerly placed it on the tabletop before Snape, then folded his hands quietly as he waited to see Snape’s reaction.

Cautiously and carefully, Snape opened the box; the inside was lined with midnight blue velvet and perched in the center was the most exquisite diamond ring he had ever seen. He was drawn to it instantaneously, it carried with it a certain hypnotic effect that made turning his eyes away very difficult. It was rare and intriguing, spectacular in every detail.

“It’s just arrived here late yesterday, sir. It is a very rare stone that carries with it a certain… ‘History’ shall we say.” The Jeweler said, relieved that the discovery would soon facilitate Snape’s departure, if one could only dare to hope.

Snape grabbed a nearby Jeweler’s loupe and viewed the magnificent stone. It was blue-white like the excelsior diamond. It was a flawless brilliant cut round stone with extra facets on the pavilion. The crown had an angle of 35.4 and the total depth was 62.4%. It was a large stone with three additional stones flanking it on each side, a total of seven diamonds in an arc of breathtaking elegance. It was obviously a one of a kind gem, and it was situated in an heirloom setting of platinum.

“This is the wedding band that goes with it sir.” Said the Jeweler, as he set the comparatively plain platinum band down in front of Snape.

“I’ll take it, wrap them up.” Snape said quickly, then muttered “incompetent idiot” under his breath owing to the Jeweler’s having wasted so much of his time today. He had work to do, and …he had to see Gwenevere after last night.

“Are you positive sir,” asked the Jeweler? “I would be remiss if I didn’t warn you.”

“What ever are you talking about?” Snape demanded impatiently.

“This is the Juliet Diamond. No one knows the true extent of its formidable powers. It is easy for one to become bewitched by it’s beauty and perfection without abstemious deliberation. It is said that if the wrong wizard purchases it, personal destruction will be the true price he pays.”

Severus carefully considered what was told to him by the Jeweler. He had Gwenevere to consider. He knew that some of these curses could get nasty and with her lack of magic she could be in more danger. He already had one curse dogging him he didn’t need another. But then again, his gut told him he had found the right ring, he was positive.

“Well then, let us put it to rest that the correct wizard has purchased it.” He said in low, measured tones, his black eyes shrewd and calculating.

“Very well sir, as you wish.” The Jeweler prepared the rings for departure, and was actually quite relieved to be rid of them; the mysterious rings and the mysterious wizard as well. As he watched Snape’s robes flourish past the door and down the sidewalk in a blur of blackness, he couldn’t help but wonder as to who on earth would ever aspire to become that man’s wife. With hindsight, it was obviously a very good bet that it would have taken something outrageous like this to render him the slightest bit attractive as possible marriage material. Poor desperate woman! He would know soon enough.

lee
Thanks DoC. :), - Monday, August 11, 2003 at 15:37:24 (PDT)

Claudia and Ed

Claudia pulled the Doctor through the doorway, before he could protest. The man on the far wall looked up and grinned at her. “Hello, luv. Back already? And I see you’ve brought a little friend with you this time.”

“Shhh!” She hissed at him, as they reached him. “We’re here to rescue you.”

“Isn’t he a little short for a stormtrouper?”

The Doctor looked daggers at the hanging man. “Leave him, Claudia. If you go and rescue him, we may never get rid of him.”

“Doctor, please! He might know more about this place than we do. He might be useful.”

“I really do doubt that. And he does seem rather happy up there.”

“Come on mate, I’m only pulling your leg. I’ve been here a while, I know the layout like the back of my hand.” He struggled to look at the back of his hand in demonstration, but it was difficult in his current position. “Well, like I used to know the back of my hand when I could bring it closer to my face.”

The Doctor produced his sonic screwdriver, and zapped each lock in quick succession, deliberately letting the man fall to the floor. Unfortunately, he landed on his feet, and sprang up. Holding out a hand to Claudia.

“I’m Will. But my very close friends call me Spike.” He thrust his pelvis in her direction, in demonstration. She tried desperately to ignore the gesture, and took his hand, shaking it.

“I’m Claudia, and this is the Doctor, Will. Come on, we need to move now, before that guard comes back.” She looked him up and down. “And find you a shirt, while we’re at it.”

“I’m not cold.”

“Fine, then. Come on.”

“Claudia, I really do suggest we leave him here. He can find his own way out.”

“Don’t we want to find our way out? Perhaps we can do it together instead of disappearing in separate directions.”

“I’m quite happy to show you my, thanks, luv. Whatever you want, its yours. My body for example, not bad, if I say so myself. All yours if you say the word.” He did a little twirl and showed off his abs and flexed his arms.

“Not very smart, is he?” groaned the Doctor, rolling his eyes. He headed back to the door, hoping he was being followed. Not bearing to be near to the idiot longer than was necessary.

“Nice to look at though,” mumbled Claudia, as she followed closely.

“Hey! Wait for me.” Will stopped admiring his own biceps long enough to see his rescuers disappearing through the doorway.
Claudia
On a roll, - Monday, August 11, 2003 at 15:09:35 (PDT)

Yes, I justly deserve all of that and more…prison time in Azkaban along with the dementor's kiss of death. While in prison, I will be sure to study HTML every day.
lee
Holding out her hands and waiting for the cuffs., - Monday, August 11, 2003 at 15:07:09 (PDT)

Stretching, yawning the trainee crawls out from the table next to the kitchen fire. Another day.

Rubbing his eyes he can't believe it Someone has italiced the book again. He looks once more, from all angles, ensuring the problem does not result from the St Patrick's Day ale.

Right, he pulls on the boots. Another stint in the Dept. of Corrections, the Chief would be pleased by his early morning attention to duty.

As the door slams there is heard tinkle of cutlery and a voice moves into the distance seemingly practising a few lines. I'm going to remove your liver with a fork .... no .. no ... I'm going to slice your gizzard with a ... doesn't sound right .... I'm going to cut your heart out with a.....

DoC - Italics corrected - found this chap in the archives! ;)

Therese . . .

**THUD**

MA
Taking another restorative sniff of those violets . . ., - Monday, August 11, 2003 at 06:23:18 (PDT)

It is nice to see our men get busy, or about to perhaps…
lee
Who is staring at her computer screen and forgetting to breathe. *Gulp*, - Monday, August 11, 2003 at 06:17:13 (PDT)

Isn't it illegal to transport kudzu across state lines? If it isn't it should be-there goes the neighborhood, buried in green...
ACC
Magda, I found your post uplifting., - Monday, August 11, 2003 at 01:36:26 (PDT)

Dev and Therese's Flat

”Eamon.” Therese’s voice was part gasp, part whimper as she writhed on the bed, her back arching toward his touch. Or lack of it.

“Hmmm, yes?” he responded, his voice a lazy velvet whisper as he looked up and into her eyes.

“You know what,” she assured him, her body and its movements indicating her desire even had he not been completely aware of her wishes. Which he most certainly was.

“So I do,” he agreed, his movements continuing on at the snail’s pace that was driving Therese mad. Divinely so. He brought his upper body further onto the foot of the bed, raising her right leg, bending it so her foot was flat on the mattress. His long fingers trailed over her bare calf, her toes curling reflexively as his warm lips met the back of her knee. Therese sighed loudly, her fingers stretching downward. Eamon’s new position had brought him within her reach, and she threaded her fingers through his hair, the strands spilling over her fingertips like fine satin. He barely paused in his tender assault, and threaded her fingers through his hand, stretching her arm back up and over her head where he captured it gently. Her hand gripped his tightly, and when she would probably have protested a second time he leaned forward over her body, his lips covering hers in a thorough, aching kiss. “That’s going to have to keep you for a bit, I’m afraid,” he warned her, his eyes glinting with passion and humour as he shifted position once again, back to where he’d left off.

Therese threw herself back onto the pillows, a long groan of frustration hissing from between her lips, one that quickly turned to an inarticulate sound of passion as his fingertips and lips proceeded on their course.

When he paused again, she sucked in her breath through clenched teeth. Her whole world had tightened in to her sole want and need of him, and when he slid completely off the bed she groaned her dismay. He chuckled at her response, a low, throaty sound, and Therese was quite certain that he deliberately made a show of the removal of his shirt, delicately slipping out of one sleeve, then the other, and finally allowing the garment to fall to the bedside. He remained motionless for several moments, Therese gazing at the sleeveless undergarment he wore, that served only to accentuate his long, well-muscled arms. Soon that too joined the growing collection of clothing, both hers and his, that had collected upon the floor, and finally he was once again beside her, his lips pressing, seeking, exploring, fingers tracing the path his lips would take, before and after.

She tried to return his caresses; theirs had always been a physical relationship based upon mutual sharing, but tonight he proved evasive, and occasionally prohibitive, trapping her gently but firmly when she would reciprocate. "You're being very obstinate," she finally accused him, when he had yet again redirected her touch.

He nodded, his teeth grazing her knee and causing her to jump. "Unfortunate, but unavoidable," he murmured, "if I'm to drive you to distraction as I mean to, I can't afford the diversion."

"Eamon?" she managed to gasp, his words making her stomach quiver from deep inside.

"Yes, Therese?"

"I don't think that Fr. O'Shaughnessy would be shocked."

Eamon looked at her curiously. "No?"

"No, I think he'd fall away in a dead faint."

"Mmmmm, then," Eamon responded, his warm breath caressed Therese's flesh, making her shiver, "I'll have to be certain that my actions merit such a response."

Therese
Cindie--far enough yet?, - Sunday, August 10, 2003 at 23:08:20 (PDT)

FOF set, The Director’s office:

“Excuse me, sir, but . . .” Polite throat-clearing.

The Director looks up, scowling, but his expression relaxes when he catches sight of Brandon in the doorway, a white box in one hand and a puzzled expression on his face.

“Yes, Brandon, come in. What is it?”

“I was just wondering if you had seen . . .” A pause as he takes in the items on the desk, and a slight tug at one corner of his mouth, hinting at amusement. “What is all this, then?”

“All this,” replies The Director with elaborate gravity, “is Therese, Cindie, and Mary Anne’s idea of a gift for me. I believe they thought I would be offended beyond measure if they did not bring me back some souvenirs of their . . . vacation.”

“I see.” Brandon, too, is carefully formal, his smile no more than a slight crinkling of his eyes. “May I?”

“You may. Item, one cup, courtesy of the Alabama Shakespeare Festival.” He presents for Brandon’s inspection a coffee mug labeled Shakespearean Insults in spiky Gothic script, followed by a long list of unflattering sobriquets such as poisonous bunch-back’d toad, dread prince of plackets, and beetle-headed, flap-ear’d knave among others equally scathing. Brandon is actually grateful that he must struggle not to laugh; heaven knows he has found little to amuse him the past couple of days.

The Director continues. “Item, one potted plant. Apparently they thought the office could use a bit of greenery.”

“What sort of plant is it?”

The Director eyes the trailing vine as if he expects it to croon Feeeed me, but when no demands are forthcoming he replies, “I believe they said it’s called kudzu. I hope it’s not too delicate.”

Brandon looks down, getting his face under control. “I don’t think you need worry. And this . . . ?”

The Director unfolds the last item, dropping it neatly on the front of his desk, on top of a folded paper. Brandon catches only a glimpse—one of those tabloid rags they all despise—before the item before him unrolls to display in bold letters: ALABAMA DIRT SHIRT.

This is beyond even Brandon’s abilities in self-control, but after a strangled cough or two, his expression is once more pleasantly neutral. “A dirt shirt?”

The Director grimaces, reaching for a small square of pasteboard. “This was in the box with it—apparently, the material is dyed with . . . well, dirt. Or at least, with the substances found in the dirt. Minerals and such.” The T-shirt itself is dappled in shades of amber and ochre and iron-red, each hue fading subtly into another with no line of demarcation. “You have to admit that it’s an interesting idea.”

Brandon nods. “You do realize that you will have to wear it at least once, where they can see it.”

A grim look. “I know.” The Director glowers at the shirt. “Perhaps under a jacket—and if I turned it around backwards . . .”

Brandon grins openly. “That would be cheating.”

A sigh. “I know. Now, what was it you needed?”

“I was wondering if . . . you knew where Mary Anne might be. I checked in her cube . . .”

The Director consults a memo book on his desk. “She may still be at her appointment with Jutta. I insisted that she get back into her usual routine as quickly as possible—Brandon, is something wrong?”

“I simply wished to speak with her about something, that’s all.”

The Director waits, but Brandon remains obstinately silent.

“I hope it is not ‘something’ too disturbing, with what we have coming up on the shooting schedule. Are you ready for these next scenes?”

“Of course I am, sir.” A touch of hauteur, there, in that raised eyebrow.

“Of course you are.” With anyone else, The Director would press the issue, but Brandon never makes trouble and so he desists, leaving the matter to take care of itself. “Very well, then. I will see you on the Chamber set this afternoon.”

Brandon nods and is gone from the office.

The Director waits through a slow count of three, then lifts the Dirt Shirt and looks once more at the tabloid beneath it. You simply wished to speak with her about something. Not this, unless I’m very much mistaken. I hope that I am not.

***************************************

Mary Anne’s cubicle:

She knows at once that Brandon has been there. A disturbance in the very atmosphere, some lingering trace of his scent, perhaps. Earth and dark cinnamon and that indefinable underlayer. Male. One particular male.

Her skin tingles as she glances quickly around the cubicle, half-expecting see him step from behind the folding screen or seated on the chaise . . . but once again, she would know in an instant if he were there.

He would see to it that she knew.

The thought passes over her in a wave of heat that leaves her dry-mouthed and trembling, and as she moves to sit down at her desk, she notices the white box. Muttering imprecations at her shaking hands, she works the lid loose and lifts the bouquet of violets from their damp packing of florists’ cotton, holding the cool petals against her burning face and breathing in the sweet, clean fragrance, then busies herself for several minutes locating a bowl, filling it with cool water, and settling the purple blooms on her desk.

No card. No letter.

But it had been Brandon who left them for her. No doubt--no doubt.

MA--"contradiction"? I must've missed something, hmmmmmm . . .
Clods--yes, the ARchives do lure one on and on, don't they? , - Sunday, August 10, 2003 at 20:43:34 (PDT)

Claudia and Ed

She pulled her ear from the door and sighed with relief when she heard the guard walk away, and not in their direction.

“I’m not a very nice person,” she stated.

“Where did that come from?” Asked the Doctor. “Are you coming?”

“No.”

“Claudia, listen we have work to do, and then we have to find the others.”

“I’m not leaving without him,” she nodded through the door.

“We’ll come back for him.”

“Like I was going to come back for Therese. That worked, didn’t it? I was seduced by the dark side, I’m an evil bitch. But I’m going to save that man in there, whether he deserves it or not.”

“The poor man. Your missions have been successful - how often? And how do you plan on getting him down?”

She pouted at him. “Sonic screwdriver.”

“My sonic screwdriver?”

“Alright, you’re going to get him down. But quit arguing about it. We could have done it and been on the search for your machine by now.”
Claudia
I'm getting lost in the archives and I don't want to leave!, - Sunday, August 10, 2003 at 20:03:47 (PDT)

Thanks Magda...Not for the explanation (thanks for that too) but for the contradiction. I missed it the first time but caught it the second time. I wont give it away, but that was priceless!!!!!!!!! Oh Yea.
lee
LOL, - Sunday, August 10, 2003 at 18:19:03 (PDT)

Lee: no, Richard is a girl. George and Joya had a big fight (see Archives, May/June 2001) over the name for a boy and when Joya had a girl, George wanted her to have a special name and called her Richard, after the king.
Magda
- Sunday, August 10, 2003 at 18:02:09 (PDT)

Thanks Pam, you are so nice to say so. It will twist much more in time!
Magda, I always thought Richard was a boy child? What gives? Great stories tonight! Thanks to all.
lee
The world’s WORST at HTLM., - Sunday, August 10, 2003 at 17:31:30 (PDT)

Lee, I couldn't wait to get home and read the story to date! I must admit the plot keeps twisting and is so exciting and adventurous at every turn..Keep up the good work... Pam
Pam
- Sunday, August 10, 2003 at 17:17:48 (PDT)

Ed and Claudia

Ed did as he was told, and walked back to his room, a deep frown on his brow.

He couldn’t bear to be near to Claudia, but could he bear to be away from her? She’d brought him back to reality with quite a thump, literally. Now he was seeing things around him in a different light. What was going on here? What was really going on?

The Overseer had been quite adamant that he stay. Were they really kind and caring, and helping the over-stressed relax and recharge their batteries, or was there something more sinister about it?

He entered his room, and started to peel away the white cloth and gold ribbons and jewellery. He turned on the steam shower and entered the perfumed cloud. It smelled of incense.

What were they planning for this evening? Dinner? A celebration? He didn’t think so. More likely another ploy to get them to stay.

The lines on his brow slowly disappeared, as he relaxed into the shower. “Mmmm. I wonder what’s for dinner?” he mused out loud. Will the girls dance? I like watching them move. I could watch the graceful sway of their hips all evening. I really must take some sketches for a painting. I wonder if I could get some art equipment delivered to my room. Perhaps one of the girls will pose for me privately, then I could get the movement just right. Claudia would…

His hand slammed on the button, turning off the shower. So, that’s why the Overseer suggested he take a shower. They’d been controlling him all along. He hadn’t been relaxed and refreshed - he’d been drugged! Furious, he roughly towelled his body, and put on his own jeans and shirt. He was angry with himself for so easily falling into this trap. He thought this is what he’d wanted, but it had all been too easy. Life wasn’t easy, it was what you made of it.

He had to find the others, and work out what to do from here. The Doctor would know what to do. He and Anton had been taken to rooms near his, he just had to find them. Then they had to get out of here.
Claudia
- Sunday, August 10, 2003 at 16:05:49 (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

The move the next day went smoothly enough. The maids had finished packing long before the Lady Suzanne responded to my request with assurances that she would be delighted to have Joya and Richard as her guests. I read the note twice, passed it to Joya and returned to my morning meal with a renewed appetite. It was always a good sign when plans fell into place as well as this.

At the other end of the table, Locksley and Marion watched us with great suspicion. My good mood increased proportionately. A day without annoying Locksley was simply not worth getting up for. I wondered what they thought the message was about. They probably couldn't wait to accuse me of something nefarious and demoniac, of course, doubtless illegal and definitely immoral, unquestionably underhanded and indubitably cunning. I took a hearty swig of ale. Well, let them try it; flattery would get them nowhere.

I left it to Joya to show them the note and explain that she was going to visit the ladies for a few days until the king arrived. Locksley and Marion examined the parchment as if it contained viper's venom and glared down the table at me with renewed suspicion. The sight redoubled my enjoyment of my meal.

By the time we'd finished breaking the fast, the servants had packed the trunks into a sturdy wagon. Bertha sat uncomfortably on a packhorse, darting anxious looks down at the ground and gasping whenever the animal shifted position. Joya supervised everything from her saddle, cradling Richard in a sort of sling she'd improvised from a short cloak. I mounted my own animal and signaled to the men-at-arms that we were ready to move out. With a creaking groan the wagon lurched forward and we were off.

It wasn't often the townspeople saw me so early in the day and so I wasn't too surprised - although considerably annoyed - when they stopped and gawked at us as we rode through the streets. I stared straight ahead, looking neither to the right nor the left, determined not to gratify their vulgar presumption. Joya bowed and smiled to all, nodding graciously the many she recognized. I have never been able to force her to act like a real lady; she is impervious to my training efforts and simply laughs at me.

Lady Suzanne and Lady Christina were waiting for us when we arrived. They called greetings to us from an upstairs window and hurried down as we dismounted. Joya laughingly surrendered Richard to their care. We walked through the house into the back garden as the servants pulled the trunks and baggage off the wagon. The early morning sun shone feebly on the small bower where refreshments awaited. I sat down on a stool and watched the ladies drop gracefully onto carpets spread on the ground, their bright gowns the only trace of colour in a garden muted by autumn.

I poured a cup of cider as I watched Lady Christina try to get Richard to smile by making faces at her. Beside me Joya laughed at the sight. For the first time in days it seemed to me that Joya was completely relaxed. For the first time I wondered how often she hid behind a façade of calm composure, not showing any emotion to the world. I sipped my drink, considering the question. Then another thought struck me. How often did she hide her true feelings from me?

I set the cup down on the small table beside me. This was not a comfortable thought. How well did I really know Joya? Or rather, how well did she want me to know her? I cast my mind back to Richard's birth, how Joya had maneuvered me out of the bedchamber when she knew she was in labour. It wasn't the first or the last time she'd manipulated me to get what she wanted. There were several other matters that she'd had her way about because I had succumbed to her subtlety. And her favourite method of handling me was to use her incredible body as a distraction. Of course, some distractions were more welcome than others; efforts to ply me with drink or food would have been counter-productive. But after almost a year of marriage, surely we had moved past the point of indirect communication.

A squeal of delight interrupted my brooding. Richard sprawled on Joya's cloak as our hostesses took turns peeking at her through their fingers. Her small legs churned the air madly as she waved her fists in glee. On the other side of the bower, Joya was smiling tolerantly at the sight when she looked up and our eyes met. It seemed to me that the day had suddenly become much warmer.

For a moment we were the only two people on earth, then she broke away and addressed Lady Suzanne. "If you don't mind, my dear, I believe I shall just go inside and make sure the trunks were stored away properly."

Lady Suzanne looked around. "Of course. Would you like me to come too?"

"No, that won't be necessary. You are quite indispensable to my daughter's happiness right now." Joya looked up at me again. "But Lord Nottingham might wish to accompany me."

My pulse began to throb and fire raced through my blood. I rose immediately. Then I stood up. "Of course, my dear. Lead the way."

We made our way through the garden back to the house in what we hoped was a casual stroll but probably looked more like a sprint to a more objective witness. The servants were taking their leisure in the kitchen and sprang to their feet as we entered. Joya waved them aside as we hurried through the room. Then we were up the stairs and into a small hallway. Joya gestured at a door, and I lifted her in my arms and kicked it open....

Magda
No, it isn't a contradiction; did anyone spot it?, - Sunday, August 10, 2003 at 15:47:41 (PDT)

Oh DoC, this is not good. I am so sorry, but my last /i was not correct. Please fix it for me. And again I am sorry.
lee
- Sunday, August 10, 2003 at 14:58:48 (PDT)

TRUE LOVE'S CURSE: Monday

Snape stood rigidly surveying the surroundings with purpose. He was sure he had indeed seen every diamond in the vault and on the display floor but something kept nagging him at the back of his mind to keep looking. Something was missing-- he could feel it. He couldn’t bring himself to leave without exhausting every possibility first as he was simply unwilling to declare his defeat just yet.

“ I insist that you show me every single diamond ring you have amassed on this premises at once. I shall not leave until I have found what I am looking for specifically.” Snape planted his feet, crossed his arms and glared at the nervous Jeweler.

He had already shown Snape everything except the items waiting for special attention in the back working area, but it was apparent to him that this “gentleman” was not about to leave until he had scrutinized every last one of them for himself.

“Come with me sir.” The Jeweler said after a long sigh, and led Snape to the cramped receiving room located at the back on the store. Obsolete and dusty glass showcases surrounded the room. The smell of machine oil and precious metal polish hung stiflingly in the air, and the lighting was poor. The center area was packed with a variety of large metallic machines coated with layers of oil and dust and filthy black-tarnished rags littered the workspaces on which the equipment used for polishing, creating and repairing jewelry rested idle.

Like a panther prowling his boundaries, Professor Snape slowly stalked the inventory, looking for the perfect ring. He approached the last case and his ominous dark shadow crept upon its cloudy glass surface as he peered inside. In the back corner, alone and in silhouette was an antique pewter box. The lid on the box had an intricately detailed striking cobra etched in pewter and in the eye of the cobra was a perfect emerald of exceptional quality. The box would have certainly put off most perspective grooms, as it seemed shrouded in an unmistakably sinister atmosphere, yet, Snape was magnetically compelled otherwise. “May I?” Snape asked, conveying with his expression that he wished to inspect the pewter box and its curiously concealed contents...

lee
- Sunday, August 10, 2003 at 14:56:18 (PDT)

Thorns among the roses
The South Rose Garden:

Some while later found them both sitting on a bench made for looks and outdoor utility rather than comfort. Cindie had found it difficult to begin. Ultimately she had sat up very straight and looked dead ahead at a white blossom tipped with red on the other side of the pathway and recounted verbatim the conversation she had overheard two nights ago in the ladies’ room. She finished with, “that is when I knew she had meant every word of it for me.”

There was a ringing silence.

Mistral sat still as death. Cindie watched as the hand resting upon his knee tightened into a claw and then lay stiff. His profile did not alter. Finally, not turning his head, he spoke. “Do you think for a moment that I prefer her company to yours?”

She paused a moment to consider. “No, I don’t, but you never went out of your way to say so.”

“Must I then speak what is already known to you?”

Now her hands lay on her knees and she leant forward, looking again across the pathway. “That’s not all there is to it.”

“Is this where you demand to know what that woman was to me?”

“Is that what you want? A jealous rage? Your past is your own affair.”

“Then why did you walk out on me?”

“Because three seemed a crowd and you had everything so well under control I didn’t want to mar the performance.”

He gave a derisive snort. “I perform everyday. That’s not what I want with you.”

“Then you need to decide what it is you do want. If it’s someone like that brittle creature then you need to move along.”

Mistral paused to draw breath. “I’ve no intention of moving along as you so neatly phrase it. I know that there are things of which we haven’t spoken, but haven’t I made it clear that I am seeing no one else.”

“Yes, its not that.”

“I haven’t lived a monk’s life.”

“That much is obvious.”

At that Mistral looked at her sharply. “Do you wish a list?”

“That is uncalled for.”

“Well, what is it that you do want? An apology, an explanation? The former would be inappropriate and the latter fall short of your expectations.”

“No damn it. What would have been nice is a declaration. You never said anything at all to her about me. About what I am to you.”

“To Jessica? She’s the last person to whom I would attempt to explain what you are to me.”

“What am I to you? You knew those people and didn’t once introduce me. You were obviously intimate with her. Unless you’re going to be dismissive and use the old ‘she meant nothing to me’ or ‘it was a mistake’ line.”

“No. Not precisely.” He paused and then shifted toward her just slightly. “It was a mistake, though not the way most men would mean it. It was a mistake because I could neither be what she wanted nor give her what she needed. Still can’t. I wasn’t the first or the last of her men to be in that situation.” His hand reached out for her. “She is a sad woman and I’ve come to realize that there is nothing I can do about it save try not to make her sadder still.”

Cindie watched his hand leave his lap and unfurl itself like a flag of truce extended towards her. She longed to clasp it and brush all of this aside. “Is this where you bag me? That was the conversation you walked in on at the fountain. Although I realize that if I’m too much trouble you’ll move on to some easier prey.”

“That will do.” Mistral spread the words out and nailed each one deeply into the boards. Cindie stifled a sob as her hand reached out to where his had lain just a moment ago. Mistral stood up in one flicker of fluid motion and took a step onto the cider path.

Cindie
Welcome to Astra.
So Therese, is Dev still working on that instep or has he moved up in the world?, - Saturday, August 09, 2003 at 16:35:35 (PDT)

TRUE LOVE'S CURSE: Weekend

Professor Snape was as punctual as the clock for his personal diamond viewing appointment at one hour preceding noon. The Jeweler greeted him politely and assured him that Gringotts had everything in order regarding the future transaction, should there be one.

Snape’s present surroundings could not have been more dissimilar as compared to the previous ones. The Jeweler had impeccable manners and was stylishly dressed, his cuffs and robes were immaculate, and his hair combed to perfection. Black shoes were buffed to a glassy shine and the complexities of spice blended within his tastefully light aftershave demurely greeted the senses, then lingered in the air only moments before diminishing completely as not to offend.

“Right this way sir.” The Jeweler said politely but crisply.

Snape followed the well-dressed man across thick and luxuriously expensive crimson carpet and was comfortably seated at a specially lighted table in the ultra plush viewing room. Nearby was an enormous open vault. The door was flawlessly polished and humming quietly with numerous enchanted timers, switches and alarms. A collection of small shiny dials corresponding with toothed gears, behind a clear glass protective plate embedded in the center of the massive door, was actively ticking off the seconds.

Snape was shown a midrange collection of rings first, which highly insulted the already fractious wizard, reinforcing his propensity toward ill temperament, as shopping ran a close second to banking on the list of his most reviled activities. The Jeweler marched out tray after tray of exquisite diamond rings for Snape’s consideration, yet he was not to be satisfied, and after an embarrassingly large number of such trays were unceremoniously rejected in tUrn, the Jeweler was rapidly approaching his wit’s end.

It was now getting late and Snape had lost his desire to restrain his annoyance any further...
lee
- Saturday, August 09, 2003 at 14:40:06 (PDT)

Does this mean Miss placed Brit is Chandra? Is she a Brit wannabe like most of us that envy those that can bump into the man?
Silent Bob
- Saturday, August 09, 2003 at 06:19:28 (PDT)

So, whose tern for another story? Do we pass it around, or does it fly to the next storyteller, perchance?
ACC <I want more please>
- Friday, August 08, 2003 at 22:58:35 (PDT)

Well, I'm off to California for a week. Pretend that you'll miss me! :P I'll be without a computer.

I'll be back with more vingettes; it's the right format for the time and care I spend - on my "Creative" life.
Misplaced Brit
I hereby claim Dwight Billings AND John Gissing!, - Friday, August 08, 2003 at 20:09:45 (PDT)

He chopped them up, (the terns) eyes and all, and picked them, sealing them in the recycled jars which were cleaned by Winkie, the lowly house elf. lol
lee
- Friday, August 08, 2003 at 18:44:23 (PDT)

Even Snape's not ornery enough to shove a jar into a poor little tern. Okay, maybe he is and I'm living in denial, but it sure is an awful thought!
CdC
- Friday, August 08, 2003 at 17:18:34 (PDT)

It's not the jars that I'm worried about, it's the poor little terns! What did these poor little birds do to deserve the hideous fate of being used as packaging? Look up "terns."
CdC <jokeswaytooobscureapparently.com>
- Friday, August 08, 2003 at 17:01:16 (PDT)

Laura, Alan Rickman can come and "turn my key" anytime he wants to.
lee
Thanks, and Thanks for the quote!, - Friday, August 08, 2003 at 16:10:52 (PDT)

I should think wizards are not constantly being asked “paper or plastic?” The jars can, and are recycled when Harry Potter is not being used as target practice with them.
lee
An international round table discussion on wizard recycling economics will be held in France near Beaubatton next month and I do hope you can all attend., - Friday, August 08, 2003 at 16:05:09 (PDT)

One of the house elves, I suppose, or a lowly assistant. Not PROFFESSOR SNAPE, for goodness sakes. If ever there was a man that expected to be "picked up after", he is the one.
ACC
- Friday, August 08, 2003 at 15:56:01 (PDT)

Good point, ACC. But who washes out the jars? ;)
MB
I'd love to see a meeting betw'n Alex Dane and the Doctor!, - Friday, August 08, 2003 at 14:59:51 (PDT)

I should think that jars would be safer. Something might....escape...from a paper bag. Besides, jars can be recycled, can't they?
ACC
- Friday, August 08, 2003 at 14:12:10 (PDT)

Lee- this story is so addicting!
Laura
"I want to turn a key in the hearts and minds of somebody."-Alan Rickman, - Friday, August 08, 2003 at 13:39:02 (PDT)

Lee: "each jar in tern?" Ghastly, utterly inhumane! Don't these wizards know about brown paper bags?
CdC
- Friday, August 08, 2003 at 11:41:34 (PDT)

TRUE LOVE'S CURSE: Friday

CRACK. Snape appeared on the outskirts of Knocturn alley and immediately set a brisk pace toward the heart of the restricted trade district in search of rare and “unusual” potions ingredients. He needed to restock his private stores and provide the necessary elements for upcoming contract work for Azkaban prison and the Wizengamot. Snape pursued professional procurements periodically in Knocturn Alley and was practiced in the subtle art of mingling with the sort of clientele who frequented this particularly sordid area known as the Dark Side.

He walked quickly and with purpose, scanning his surroundings, but not making unnecessary eye contact with anyone, not that he looked even remotely like the type of wizard one would want to chance aggravate. His hand was gripped tightly around his wand as he quickly ducked into a soot-covered storefront; a broken sign was dangling from a rusty chain overhead. The door slammed shut and the floor creaked loudly as Snape approached the desk intending to gain access to the highly restricted supplies in the back room.

Unfortunately, a case of poor timing transpired as a recent hire had just been put in charge of watching the shop momentarily, as the owner ran an errand next door.

“I wish to speak with Leopold, he has an order prepared for me in the back room.” Snape stated with authority as he drilled his stare into the man’s vacant face.

“ Leopold’s not here at the moment, what do you need?” the man said with bored indifference. Snape handed the list to him and narrowed his eyes as he watched the man read it.

“Sorry mate, everything on the list’s illegal, strictly speaking,” he flashed a glance at Snape that suggested alternatives could be arranged for the right price. “ Unless… you can persuade otherwise.” He felt his palm itch in anticipation of the pleasure that a few galleons would bring, snatched up and tightly held there. His weight shifted from foot to foot, finally he rested one foot upon the other and waited slack-jawed for Snape to respond. He had all day.
Snape seized his wand and took hold of the man’s collar, lifting him off of his heels.

“Do you have any idea to whom you are speaking? Bring me my order now, or I shall sort you out in the most insalubrious manner imaginable. Do I make myself plain?” Snape hissed.

“Ah, Professor Snape! Good to see you. I’ll take charge from here, Tim.” Leopold said as the door slowly shut, making a loud creaking sound as if in agony. Snape released his collar with a final shove and Tim quickly disappeared through a filthy door behind the grimy counter. Snape cut his eyes sharply toward Leopold and loosened the hold on his wand slightly.

“Leopold, I trust that everything is in order.” Snape cautioned, knowing it would be.

“Of course, Professor Snape. Just as you ordered, please follow me sir.”

They moved to the back of the shop where hundreds of jars were stored. Some with ghastly looking contents starring back at them with milky white protruding eyes. Many had eerie floating poses and disfigurements reminiscent of torturous deaths and hellish nightmares. The stench in the room was almost unbearable save for the most seasoned professional heavily accustomed to working with strong chemicals used in preventing acrid putrefaction.

Snape’s order was prepared and packed, ready for inspection, payment, and shipment. He took each jar in tern and carefully inspected its contents, making sure it corresponded perfectly with his list before replacing it in the box. When he was completely satisfied, he paid Leopold in galleons and sickles, signed for the order, and arranged for it to be sent directly to Hogwarts on Monday.

lee
Thanks Pam, He is handsome, devilish and RICH. What’s not to like? Anne, I am glad you made it home safely, say hi to Rasputin for me. I keep picturing Snape with the shopping trolley the wenches had him using. lol , - Thursday, August 07, 2003 at 17:41:51 (PDT)

Off-set, the living room at Chris' place

Chris looked down at the poodle with a smile, holding a bundle in her arms.

"Now Ollie, are you going to be a good boy and greet your new friend nicely?" she asked, as the bundle moved and let out a slow whimper.

"She's very little you know, so you have to be gentle, Ollie. None of that rough-and-tumble you play with the doggies in the park just yet, okay? Good, I'm glad we understand each other!" Chris struggled to keep the bundle contained as she bent down to release it safely on the floor.

As she moved her hand away, the bundle sorted its legs, head and tail out and looked up at the suddenly huge-looking miniature poodle. The little black and white puppy seemed to be staring straight into Ollie's eyes, and he stood transfixed by the small creature deposited in front of him.

"Now Ollie, meet Astra. Astra, this is Ollie. He won't be living here forever honey, just while his mummy is at a wedding, but you two will be good friends, I just know it."

The puppy wagged her tail and looked up at Chris, as if she was truly listening. Ollie too, looked up at his surrogate mum. Then they both decided that investigating each other was far more fun, and started sniffing each other. In moments, they were playing happily, and the sound of mild growls and happy yips filled the apartment.

The young woman kept a close eye on the dogs for a while longer, to ensure they were happy together, but it was almost as if they'd always been friends, and soon she started cooking dinner, still with the playing dogs within sight.

An hour or so later, as she finished dinner, she glanced over at the two crates, and saw that Astra and Ollie had fallen asleep together in his bed. She smiled gently at them, just as the phone rang

Chris
Melting here...the UK isn't SUPPOSED to reach the 100s! Please welcome my new addition, Astra, my 4 month old border collie cross!, - Thursday, August 07, 2003 at 17:34:15 (PDT)

Well, I'd love to have the time to sit and write. I'm one of those people who make plot outlines, and expand from the outlines to create a story. Anna is a woman I'd like to see in a movie, or a book. She is, however, darn difficult to write! Try to keep her vocabulary and accent consistent.

Furthermore, the light comic tone is intentional: I could bore everyone to death with a romantic scene. Trust me.

One last point: After fifteen years of marriage, Anna's husband died. There was no divorce.

How (and why) she came to New Orleans, I'll never tell! :D
Misplaced Brit
ok, BtW, he's all yours! Hee hee!, - Thursday, August 07, 2003 at 12:20:57 (PDT)

David wondered how he’d explain to his boss, Bob Roberts, that a dear old friend had appeared, and led him home. He could imagine the office secretaries gossiping, “I wonder what other beauties he knows. I saw her an’ she’s a queen, Marge. A high-class princess.”

Right now, he would enjoy the balmy night air on his cramped back porch in the company of The One That Got Away.

Anna had left high school and moved to Paris, working for the foreign office of an American firm. “I think that the VP was in love with me, and he wanted me away from his wife and kids.” She chuckled. He was another one who fell for her charms, but who, in the end, couldn’t tame her.

“Ah, France. I can understand why the young, brilliant students have made it their capital. London is old and crowded. Berlin is too dangerous. But Paris, if you know how to look after yourself, Paris is just right.” She quit her job and took a train for the Alps, on a whim. “It was time for a change of scenery.” She stopped on the French side of the border, at a town called “Aix-les-Bains.” “It was a Roman encampment, then a town catering to pilgrims to a mineral hot springs. If I were a Roman commander, I’d halt there, too. The mountains are very steep.”

On the train going up the mountain to the glacier, she sat next to an English tourist. At one point, the lights went out. “It happens every time. The mountains are so steep, they have to divert all power to the wheel carriage. I wasn’t afraid. They have had to rescue people from the train car, in the event of an avalanche.”

David stared, wide-eyed. “You are . . . more fearless than I am.”

The Englishman was amused at Anna’s defiant manner – insisting that she, dressed in slacks and blouse, was *not* cold in the 24-degree weather at the glacier’s edge. “I should have known,” she chuckled, “when Robert gave me his coat, that he was looking for a wife. A beautiful and fierce Scotswoman was not to be found. A beautiful and fierce American – obviously of Celtic descent – would do nicely.”

David chuckled. Poor fellow.

“He’d bought a title!” Anna said, incredulous. “He had a lovely 16th-Century hall, and farms, and a handful of four-star hotels in England and France. But no Lady of the Manor and no children. I explained kindly, and at length, to “Lord Briscombe” that I was NOT interested in adding my portrait to the gallery. And anyway, I was certain to set fire to the Hall, after all he’d spent to fix it up. But he was not one to hear “no” for an answer.”

“I’m Anna Holt McCloud, David, not Lady Briscombe. Someone else can have that title. And make the annual pilgrimage to Fife.”

The End!!!
Misplaced Brit
I hope readers don't mind imagining the "goodbye" , - Thursday, August 07, 2003 at 11:15:19 (PDT)

Yes! Therese! Your writing is wonderful, don’t stop now. I am SO enjoying these Flights of Fancy, extremely entertaining. I love them all. You too ACC. I don’t know, maybe he should have gone the extra mile for the part. I guess not.
An unpretentious admirer of all stories Rickman
- Thursday, August 07, 2003 at 05:17:02 (PDT)

Dev and Therese's Flat

Eamon Devalera was a man on a mission. He wanted to marry his Therese, and for reasons that seemed beyond him, she was balking. She'd accepted his proposal with a gratifying alacrity and misty eyes, they'd been happily exclusive from the beginning of their courtship, their personalities, while sometimes volatile were complimentary, their interests similar, he knew himself to be dependable, trustworthy, supportive, and didn't believe it was unseemingly arrogant of him to acknowledge himself as good husband material. He even tolerated the damn cat. Still it was patently obvious that Therese found their cohabitation distressing. He could only wish that the cause of that distress was what she so blithely referred to as 'living in sin,' a concept that seemed to disturb him far more than it did her. Still, he was a politician, and the art of persuasion was not foreign to him by any stretch. And in this instance he had another weapon in his arsenal: seduction.

Once he reached their bedroom, he laid her gently on the soft duvet, then stood gazing down at her for several long moments.

"What are you thinking?" Therese asked softly, noticing that his hazel eyes had grown darker and more intense.

He smiled at her, a look that sent long shivers of anticipation down her spine. "Perhaps I should show you rather than tell you?" he suggested, his tone low and soft.

Therese nodded, always amazed at the sensuous tones Eamon was capable of producing. He had a powerful voice, one that could carry over and above halls, lectures, and rallies, but was at its most potent when she had to lean in toward him to catch each nuance. He'd not even touched her yet, but she'd begun to melt; even more frustrating was the inescapable knowledge that he was completely aware of his effect upon her. He moved slowly to the end of the bed, her eyes following the graceful path of his body, and when she would have shifted position to be nearer to him he leant forward from the foot of the bed, grasping one ankle gently in each hand. He shook his head slightly, "Don't move," he whispered.

Therese fell back on her elbows, wondering vaguely if movement would have been possible even had she wished it, but that thought quickly vanished as she felt the slight sensation of Eamon's index finger on the inside of each ankle, his hands still encircling her limbs.

The soft thud of first one shoe and then the other hitting the hardwood floors barely registered, but the feeling of Eamon's hands cupping and caressing her bare feet had her reaching toward him. With a gentle touch he pushed her upper body back onto the down filled comforter, returning his attention to her lower limbs. When he bent to trace his lips over the sensitive skin on the inside of her ankle Therese sighed softly with passion and frustration. "Join me here," she invited him, patting the side of the bed next to her. He smiled at her for the second time, a look identical to the first one that had sent such fissions of passion through her body. This time the intensity made her tremble. "I don't think so, sweet--at least not for quite some time."

Therese
Unpretentious Admirer--I just can't resist a request, hope this is what you were referring to by 'squeezing the lemon'? Cindie--much thanks for your capable translations of internet-ese. Carolyn oh Carolyn--my Dev would love to help out but, well, he's just a wee bit occupied at the moment. . ., - Thursday, August 07, 2003 at 00:26:50 (PDT)

They could have used a prosthetic one, like in "boogie night" although it would be difficult to keep on in the water, probably.
ACC
- Wednesday, August 06, 2003 at 23:33:55 (PDT)

I saw Dark Harbor on the big screen. No zoom lens needed. Quite an experience.
ACC
- Wednesday, August 06, 2003 at 23:21:12 (PDT)

Oh dear, I'm quite certain I should resist making any of the following comments, but note my failure to do so:

ACC--goodness, I think that Mr. Rickman takes getting into his roles quite seriously, but altering body parts is asking just a bit much, don't you think? Circumcision seems to be routine in many areas of the States, but is not standard practice in most parts of the UK. Yes, Jewish men are circumcised on any part of the globe, but I think it's okay for a gentile actor to play the part of a Jewish man without having to undergo a bris. Hey, he's got the nose, and that's a lot more obvious.

Misplaced Brit--I agree with BtW that Freidman is certainly a Germanic surname, which means it may or may not be Jewish as well. If David was the product of a mixed marriage, and the Jewish parent was the Freidman, that would mean that David would not be Jewish. Judaism is a matriarchal religion, meaning you have to have a Jewish mother to be a Jew. Okay, there are a few fringe movements who don't enforce that, and a very few people do successfully convert, but for the most part it is a very accepted tenant of the faith.

Kate--I have to agree with you. Given the self-descriptive slur used against himself, there was no way that David W. was anything other than a Jew, and that was probably one of the many reasons that there was no love lost between him and his MIL. As for David--what a way to blow the 'Jewish men make great husbands' stereotype out of the water, huh?

Okay, ladies, I promise to stick to fiction from here out.

MoT (Member of the Tribe)
and I thought I'd never use any of what I learned in Herbrew school in real life. . ., - Wednesday, August 06, 2003 at 23:06:35 (PDT)

Lee, What a great Chapter tonight. I could just visualize Severus opening that vault!! Your stories are very well written. It's to bad you couldn't get J. Rowling to take a look at this as your material is excellent and should be published. Keep up the good work and thanks for sharing with us all. Pam
Pam H. <sholman@tmlp.com>
- Wednesday, August 06, 2003 at 21:24:16 (PDT)

Oh my God! Acc! You said, on the GB, that you did not use the DVD player for illicit Purposes while watching DkH.
You are busted! lol
- Wednesday, August 06, 2003 at 18:00:23 (PDT)

which part then?
Do tell
- Wednesday, August 06, 2003 at 17:56:26 (PDT)

Clarification:parts of him weren't Jewish. Actually, only one part.
ACC
- Wednesday, August 06, 2003 at 17:39:13 (PDT)

TRUE LOVE'S CURSE: Thursday

Gwenevere’s soggy footfalls settled into a soothing rhythm as she ran the misty early morning track. Thoughts of her beloved lulled her away from reality as she indulged to evoke every nuance of their time spent together last night. She could still discern the faint scent of him upon his white shirt this morning when she awoke, anticipating the next time she would see him. As she slowed to finish the workout, she glanced at her Gringotts watch and was surprised to discover she had actually run almost two miles more that she had originally intended.

She slowed further to a walk and noticed a great horned owl flying curiously straight for her. As it passed overhead, it dropped the grubby little book, which she caught, but immediately wished she hadn’t. The note attached simply stated:
Dear Victoria, This should help clear things up a bit for you and Severus. Albus.

*********************************

Professor Snape arrived at Gringotts bank as it opened for the day. He stepped up to the counter and stated that he intended to make a withdrawal and arrange for a transfer of gold to Remington Jewelers. He then signed the ledger book and presented the small golden key marked with the number #6,203.

“Follow me please.” Griphook said, and the two of them descended to the depths of the building where the largest private vaults were located.

It had been quite a long while since Severus had been to his vault. When they arrived, Griphook opened the door but there was no room to enter. Galleons towered in precariously swaying skyscraper-like stacks from floor to ceiling, taking up every centimeter of available floor space and threatened to avalanche upon them at any moment as they peered inward. Severus reached in very carefully, albeit sheepishly, and quickly took out what he needed.

“You will need to soon arrange for a larger vault sir.” Griphook said. He gingerly shut the heavy vault door and collectively, they held their breath as they listened to the cringe-making sound of gold coin splashing against the other side briefly, then trickling to a halt.

“You won’t require Dr. Collins to direct the transition then will you?” Snape sneered sarcastically, and gave a heavy sigh.

Actually he planned to ask Gwenevere to see to it for him after they were married, as banking was positively among his top two all time most hated responsibilities. He was as savvy a banker, as Gwenevere would be as a world class Quidditch coach. It was why he had no lucrative investments and why his vault was the pending disaster it was. Gringotts stopped sending him owls long ago in exasperated disgust. Severus had simply chosen not to deal with it.

“Do you know Dr. Collins then sir?” Griphook asked.

“Yes, we’ve met.” Answered Snape stoically. Griphook was quite puzzled as to how Snape could have possibly known Dr. Collins but decided to withhold further discussion concerning the confidential matter.

They ascended and were again in the main entrance hall, Snape carefully slid his key into a small, concealed breast pocket for safekeeping and strode rigidly toward the exit.

A guarded figure, standing in a shadowy alcove near the main corridor, watched with heightened interest as Professor Snape departed Gringotts World Wizard Bank through the twin glass and gold-plated front doors.

lee
- Wednesday, August 06, 2003 at 16:08:10 (PDT)

Misplaced Brit, it would much easier for readers like myself to read your story if it posted all at once each time instead of in multiple posts per day. That way one doesn’t start reading only to discover there are others below it, which in fact, should have been read first. Good luck on whatever you decide to do.
Just a non-authoritative lurker.
- Wednesday, August 06, 2003 at 13:23:30 (PDT)

Considering that David Friedman was in Judas Kiss and David Weinberg was in Dark Harbour....

I think David W. was of Jewish descent and probably grew up in a practicing household.
I think David F. may simply be of Germanic descent. It is possible to have a last name like Friedman ("free-man") and not be Jewish (she said, speaking from experience).....
Barbara the Wallpaperer
- Wednesday, August 06, 2003 at 12:45:13 (PDT)

He most certainly WAS Jewish in "Dark Harbor"!!! As if the surname "Weinberg" was not clue enough, it's made plain in the kitchen scene before Alex throws him out. He vents about her family being glad to be rid of him, and refers to himself as they see him -- paraphrasing, "a depressed, fortune-hunting (slur for Jewish person)".
Kate, San Francisco
- Wednesday, August 06, 2003 at 12:32:24 (PDT)

He wasn't Jewish in Dark Harbor
ACC
- Wednesday, August 06, 2003 at 12:17:43 (PDT)

That should read "take them down and "tweak" them a bit."
Also, it occurs to me that Friedman is a Jewish name. The eternal, post-diaspora question: is DF an ethnic and religious Jew? I will assume he is a very unobservant half-Jewish man. :)
Misplaced Brit
writing furiously! , - Wednesday, August 06, 2003 at 11:48:11 (PDT)

Ah, Barbara. Every time I read my posts, I wanted to take it down and "tweak" it (I like that word!) a little more. I am embarrassed at how my witty, tears-and-laughter noir vingette turned into sophomoric mush. Yuck!

Tell you what, I'll take him back for a bit. (Oh, no, Anna's not going to give him up THAT easily!) I need to re-write that ending. Then he's yours.
Misplaced Brit
Her rival had better be clever! Chuckle , - Wednesday, August 06, 2003 at 11:34:16 (PDT)

Misplaced Brit

David's going to have a new romantic interest, if you leave him with me.....

Barbara the Wallpaperer
To quote Rassilon of Gallifrey: Be sure, be very sure. Even now, it is not too late to turn back., - Tuesday, August 05, 2003 at 21:46:36 (PDT)

David and Anna went, not to Howie's grill, but to David's place. David learned that Anna had married "a scholar. I was forever picking up leather slippers and books about Lord Nelson and season tickets to the symphony." She laughed a relaxed, chest-deep laugh. "So much for being refined."

Anna met the stray cat who'd adopted David. The cat, who hissed at strangers, walked up to her and rubbed her ankles. She's charmed him, too. David mused.

After the sun had set, Anna stood up and said "Goodbye, David. I have had a wonderful evening. I won't ask you for your phone number. I don't have one."

At the door, she kissed him on the cheek.

He stood there, with the door open, for God knows how long.
Misplaced Brit
He wanted a proper "goodbye"!, - Tuesday, August 05, 2003 at 19:40:32 (PDT)

Barbara, I won't be able to keep up this story. I suffer sinus headaches. I have allergy shots once a week, and an inhaler. David is easy company (wink).

Also, Anna (think of a fair-skinned, slender Jane Morris with a wit like Lauren Bacall's) is hard to write. I therefore will pack a box of ribs, give them to him, and send him back to you. Thank you for your compliment. I will be back to borrow him -- when I can find the time. :)
Misplaced Brit
Awww. Thank you., - Tuesday, August 05, 2003 at 18:49:35 (PDT)

TRUE LOVE'S CURSE: Wednesday

Early Saturday morning, Severus emerged from his spacious Italian marble bathroom after having just finished his morning shower. He crossed the bedroom and stood in front of the large armoire preparing to dress for his trip to London. He looked down at the unmade bed and noticed Gwenevere’s slip there, he had walked her across the isolated corridor late last night and she was wearing his white Slytherin shirt, her black robes, and little else. He picked up the slip and placed it a drawer so that the house elves wouldn’t see it and as he did so, the faint scent of Hermes caused him to pause and think of her once more as he had done repeatedly since dawn.

After a few moments, he once again immersed himself in the mechanical deeds of preparation and pulled from a row of pristine starched white shirts hanging neatly in the armoire. Whilst fastening the buttons, he again drifted inward, recalling the memory of her wearing his white shirt last night, it reminded him of the first night she had spent at Hogwarts and the powerful emotions awakened in him as she stood trembling in his arms.

Without realizing it, he was suddenly aware that he had finished dressing and was now locating his wand, Gringotts key, his apparition license, and the potions supply list. He focused for a moment on the mental depiction he had made of Gwenevere ring size, he had purposely committed it to memory while holding her hand last night. He locked his quarters and, out of habit, glanced up the corridor at Gwenevere’s door before heading to the Great Hall for an early breakfast. Severus was famished.

Madam Trelawney laid her hands on an ancient ratty little dog-eared leather bound book that had apparently been used for quite a long time to prop open a tiny, heavily concealed window at the back of her divinations room. The rain caused mold to grow, rendering the book unreadable. She was dangling the damaged book over the rubbish bin like a dead rat when Professor Dumbledore poked his head into the room and inquired as to what she was about to discard. She gladly handed him the book. Professor Dumbledore squinted at the barely discernable title and asked Madam Trelawney if he may take possession of the discarded book. “Certainly, help yourself” she had replied…

lee
Thanks Pam, turn back the A/C, it's back to the mtstery at hand, for now!, - Tuesday, August 05, 2003 at 17:57:02 (PDT)

I'm willing to give up David F. to "Misplaced Brit" -- but only so long as you keep up this story! :D

I'll go look for somebody else, then....

Barbara the Wallpaperer
You drop this story, tho' and I'm all over David :D, - Tuesday, August 05, 2003 at 17:43:50 (PDT)

"Well, I've been to Memphis. Not for the music. And to Washington, D.C.." He laughed, "I can't seem to stay out of trouble, even when I ain't lookin' for it." It finds me.

She reached her hand across the table.

"It seemed to shadow you; yet you are stronger than trouble. Have you heard anything about the grill on Jefferson Street?"

"It isn't a place to wear your finery."

"I wouldn't wear pearls to a grill."

"I mean, Howie's grill is ..." He gazed at her beautiful oval face, into the deep brown-black eyes. Softly, "I suggest we take a table on the patio."

"Why?" "The crowd inside can get rough, Juliet. Nothin' Howie can't handle, but, ..."

Anna chuckled. "Howie Smithson? (David nods) I hope he has a deputy . . . to restrain him!"
Misplaced Brit
Hmm. I'm not in anyone's league!, - Tuesday, August 05, 2003 at 16:47:16 (PDT)

Hey Therese! Would you mind sending Dev over here to organize some books for me? I've got about six crates of Bookcrossing books next to the computer and my Dev is getting a little testy about it.
Carolyn, dear Carolyn(aka Dev's mom)
Help, Dev!, - Tuesday, August 05, 2003 at 16:44:52 (PDT)

She glanced at his hand. Her smile faded. David turned the hand over. “Yes, Ellen and I, we . . . separated ....” He swallowed. “Ten years ago.”

“I know. She told me.” The tone of her voice was not patronizing.

David frowned. He took a deep breath and let it out as a forced laugh. “My God, Anna. Where have you been?”

"I have been to Paris. And London. And Chamonix." She sent him a wry look. "I have walked through the gardens of Chatsworth. And the length of the Grand Canyon." She looked into his eyes; her voice became sweet musk. "I have wondered what Tybalt was getting up to."

The admission, and the old nickname, affected David more strongly than a double belt of bourbon.

Misplaced Brit
I hope that this is the right place for this story, - Tuesday, August 05, 2003 at 15:25:27 (PDT)

A slender woman wafted around the bar door, pivoted on her toes, and coasted in to the nearest two-seater booth. As graceful and quick as a cheetah. Only the bartender saw her face; everyone else felt the breeze come in the door. If they noticed anything.
Chief Inspector David Friedman looked up from his whiskey and water. His frown melted into a smirk; his haggard, unshaven face lost five years in a moment. “My, my,” he murmured to the air, “An angel has appeared.” He picked up his drink, stood up . . .
“David,” the woman breathed. It was a mountain breeze wafting through the leaves. “How good to see you.”
David halted, inches from the bench. I smell like a wharf rat. And I haven't shaved in days. "David, please." She poured invisible water from her hand into the empty seat. "Sit down." "At least, we can pretend that . . ."

"That we never set the house a’ fire?" he growled.

If she was angry, her milk-white face didn't show it. Her eyes studied a burl in the table. “No one ‘owned’ me,” she said, a curious mix of New England and Santa Fe in her voice. “Not you, not Daddy, not Louisiana. Not even Mike.”
David’s heart curled at the sound of his old rival’s name. No, not even that pit-bull could put you in a corner. You were too clever.. She met his eyes; his wistful smile mirrored her warm one. “We have closed that book; let’s begin a new one. ”
newbie
It's about time he met a REAL dame!, - Tuesday, August 05, 2003 at 14:16:16 (PDT)

Between laundry and cats and general melee, I droppped in for a reading. I love what you've done to Mr. Dane, Sandy! lol. Pity you couldn't send a script to the BBC! :)
Ann W
Youre right! It's addictive!, - Tuesday, August 05, 2003 at 12:04:49 (PDT)

Therese, please do give us the details on your thumb and please gently squeeze a lemon for us, the set up is too tantalizing not to!
An unpretentious admirer of all stories Rickman
- Tuesday, August 05, 2003 at 08:12:30 (PDT)

Off Set—In what has now become Dev and Therese’s flat

Therese stood behind Eamon silently as he unlocked the door to her—to their, she mentally corrected herself, flat. When they had stepped inside the threshold, Dev leaned back against the door and considered the woman who he soon hoped to wed. “Come here,” he said quietly, taking her into his arms.

She leant into his embrace, tucking her chin into the hollow of his collarbone, “This living in sin isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” she acknowledged with a small sigh.

“You worried me tonight,” he responded, his breath warm against her hair, “I didn’t know what had become of you.”

“I was only at Cindie’s,” Therese protested half-heartedly, snuggling closer against him. “Did I need your permission?” she added several moments later, her tone taking on a defensive edge.

“Ah, luv, no—you misunderstand me entirely,” Eamon replied, pressing his lips to her brow. Taking his hand he lead her into the spacious, open living area, the metal beams of the former warehouse still exposed. Crossing over to the large, upright bookshelves he moved to sit on the floor, pulling Therese down into his lap. “What do you see?” he asked, indicating the shelf in front of them.

Inspecting the now orderly and dust free collection, Therese let go a small gasp. Within a pair of beautifully ornate silver bookends were all of her special favourites: Atticus Finch, James Herriot, the non-fictional work of C.S. Lewis, and more, all haphazardly together in no particular order. “Thank you,” she said simply, her finger tracing the intricately carved Celtic design.

“You’re welcome,” he answered, his arms wrapping around her shoulders as he pulled her back to lean against his body. He simply held her for long moments as she considered the fully stocked shelves, a few piles of books on the floor that wouldn’t fit in the space available. “Can you make space for me in your life, Therese? Is there room? I can’t have any half measures in this.”

She turned around in his arms to face him, considering this man who had become so much a part of her world. “I’m trying, truly I am. It’s just all new to me. You’ve been through this before.”

Eamon nodded in agreement. “True enough. And I realize this isn’t the way either of us had planned it, but here we are.” He looked at her, his hazel eyes dark and sincere. “This is what you want?”

“Of course!” her response was immediate, and he sighed, relaxing against her. “It’s just a transition, that’s all.”

“One that I hope you’ll find worthwhile?”

“I’m certain of it.”

He smiled then, rising to his feet and pulling her up from the floor with him. Picking her up in his arms, he carried her down the long corridor and into their bedroom. “Perhaps then I can show you some of the benefits to this arrangement?"

"Why Mr. Devalera, Fr. O'Shaughnessy would be shocked."

"He would indeed, Therese, he would indeed. . ."

Therese--a.k.a. "Lefty"
- Monday, August 04, 2003 at 21:43:19 (PDT)

Connemara, Ireland
Wedding Reception - out on the dance floor:

Melanie and Jack gazed into each other's eyes and spoke to each other in soft tones as they, along with several other couples, swayed to the gentle and sultry voice of Norah Jones singing "Come Away With Me".

On the opposite side of the dance floor, Alexander and Sandy danced under the watchful and adoring eyes of three Irish wolfhounds lying a safe but short distance away at the sidelines. Sandy smiled when she saw from the corner of her eye that Siobhan was waving merrily to Alexander.

Alexander saw the little girl waving to him and his lips curled up slightly in amusement as he waved back to her. He then turned in the opposite direction of the tables as he and Sandy moved over a little to accomodate another couple that had just found a spot on the crowded dance floor.

"Alex, I think that you've gotten a fan for life," Sandy murmured.

Alexander laughed softly. "Just wait until she's a little bit older and the next Hugh Jackman of her generation happens to come along. She'll be changing her tune quickly enough," he replied.

A blonde eyebrow rose. "I wouldn't be so sure of that."

Another smile. "Maybe," Alexander conceded. "Some women tend to be rather fickle..." he trailed off, lost in thought for a moment.

"And others do not," came the soft reply. It was followed by a gentle squeeze to his hand.

Alexander smiled again as he returned the gentle squeeze. "Indeed." His right arm moved up Sandy's back and he drew her a bit closer to him. She returned the smile and gazed up into his eyes. Suddenly, there was a gentle 'wuff' from the sidelines and Alexander rolled his eyes in mock exasperation. "Those dogs..."

Sandy made a gentle tsking noise. "It's not every day that you also win fans from the canine world too," she observed.

Alexander growled under his breath, his eyebrow rising exponentially as Sandy gazed steadily at him, her warm blue-gray eyes the picture of innocence. He felt his lips twitch slightly. Sandy's composure broke when she saw him trying to hold his amusement back and she began laughing softly, leaning her head against his chest for a moment.

Alexander sighed and shook his head a little as he laughed also. "I guess so - although I'm not quite sure how happy I should be about that." He glanced over at the Terrible Trio, who, upon seeing their "hero" gaze in their direction, thumped their tails on the floor in loud approval and panted excitedly.

Sandy also glanced over at the wolfhounds and smiled. "Hero worship. It's not all that it's cracked up to be, huh?"

A soft snort of amused exasperation. "No. But it takes all types, I suppose," Alexander said dubiously.

"Alex... You know, that's just **begging** for a response, but I will refrain - for now."

"I am positively stunned at your considerable restraint," was the dry reply.

"I do, however, reserve the right to make as many cheap shots that I can possibly think of later on in the evening."

Alexander gazed down at Sandy, his hazel eyes twinkling. "I would expect nothing less of you, love."

Sandy smiled in response as the music came to a momentary halt while the DJ took a couple of requests. Melanie and Jack walked over to them, smiling. "I'm so glad to see that everybody's been enjoying themselves!" Melanie said.

"It's been an *interesting* time," Sandy replied with a grin, her eyes shifting away for a moment.

Melanie returned the grin after glancing over at the canine contingent, who was watching the proceedings with considerable interest. She turned to gaze at Alexander and chuckled as he shrugged his shoulders eloquently.

"Alex?" Jack's dark eyes sparkled as he glanced at the Englishman then down at Sandy, who smiled up at him. "Would you mind?"

"Of course not! I've been waiting to have a dance with the bride," Alexander said warmly.

Jack nodded and extended his arm to Sandy, who took it with a soft word of thanks and they found a place on the floor just as the music started up again - a rather lively Irish instrumental that Alexander didn't recognize.

"Do you know what the name of this song is?" Alexander asked curiously as he and Melanie began dancing to the lively tune. "It's quite catchy."

"No clue, Alex," Melanie admitted. "Jack knows it, though. He..." she broke off whatever she was going to say when a bell-like soprano rang out over the lively music.

"JOHN FRANCIS RYAN CALLAGHAN! You asked me to *dance*, doggone it, not bloody RIVER DANCE!"

The two looked over in the direction that they heard Sandy's voice coming from and they began laughing as they saw that Jack and Sandy were dancing wildly to the lively music. "You realize that he's in big trouble once the two of you are back on the set," Alexander observed in a mild voice.

He saw that the two of them were trying not to burst into giggles as they shot around the dance floor. He also had to admit that Sandy was making a truly valiant effort in attempting to keep up with the much taller Jack while he spun her around the dance floor like a whirling dervish - even though she had to take two steps to his one.

"Yeah. I know he is, but I'm certain that he's completely safe through the honeymoon," Melanie replied in-between her own merry giggles as they continued dancing. "I think that all bets are off once we receive our next script, however. Then Jack will pay."

Alexander smirked at the bride's words. "Of that, you can be certain," he intoned. "As will the rest of us."

Melanie's eyes widened at Alexander's wry observation. "Oh, GOD!"

Fiona, blissfully unaware of what was being commented upon between Alexander and Melanie, happily barked and wagged her tail in approval.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Earlier that day, in Alexander's hotel room:

"Did you find anything, Evans?" one of the men who had been assigned to look through Alexander's room asked as he finished his search through the armoire and shut the doors.

"Nothing," Evans grumbled. "Bloody wild goose chase, if you ask me." He opened the last drawer in the bureau he was searching through. He let loose a low whistle. "Well, well, well!" he commented. "Take a gander at what comes between Mister Dane and *his* Calvins," he said with a snicker.

The man who had been searching through the armoire turned around to see that Evans was holding up a pair of black silk underwear briefs. "Nice! Looks expensive."

Just then, the adjoining door that led to Sandy's room slammed open and the man who had made Eileen O'Shea give a master key to the bedrooms stormed inside Alexander's room. "This is a professional operation, people!" he snapped as he locked the door behind him. "Although with the preliminary reports coming in from last night's botched surveillance ops on the girlfriend's fifteen pound DOG, I'm seriously beginning to believe that I'm working for the bleeding Keystone Kops!" He turned to Evans and rolled his eyes in disgust. "Put that damned thing away!"

Evans took a moment to fold the clothing article and put it away carefully, taking care to make sure that it was in the same spot that it was placed in previously. "Well, did you find anything in the girlfriend's room?"

"Nothing." The word came out grudgingly and through tightly clenched teeth. Evans watched in silent amusement as a vein throbbed in the man's neck.

"I'm telling you, O'Malley. These two have *nothing*! This isn't anything but a wild goose chase fed by paranoia!" the man who had been searching the armoire countered.

O'Malley gazed back at the third man with clear contempt on his face. "And thinking like that, Johnston, is the reason why you've not gotten any further in this organization in the past three years," he pointed out.

"No. It's because of yes-men like *you* who believe whatever is spoon-fed to them!" Johnston retorted angrily.

O'Malley gazed at Johnston lazily. "Really?" he asked in an idle tone as he carelessly reached into his blazer pocket and withdrew a pen and a small pad of paper. He turned the pen in Johnston's direction and quickly pushed the pen's top down with his thumb. A thin needle suddenly shot from the pen's end straight into Johnston's neck before either he or Evans could react.

Johnston managed to pull the needle from his neck and he stared blearily at O'Malley before his eyes rolled up and he fell to the floor in a heap.

"My God! You are one sick bastard, O'Malley! What the bleeding hell was that?" Evans gasped, gazing down at their fallen colleague with a horrified expression on his face.

O'Malley nonchalantly put the 'pen' back inside his pocket. "Nothing lethal. Just an anesthetic with, shall we say, exotic properties." He too gazed down at his unconscious colleague before turning his head to gaze at the still stunned Evans. "He'll be awake in around five or six hours. Enough time to move him to a location more suited for his - uh - talents," he continued with a smug grin, lowering his eyes to gaze down at Johnston again.

"You're insane!" Evans exclaimed finally, not knowing what else to say.

O'Malley's head shot up at the accusatory tone in Evans' voice. "No. I *love* my country. I love my *world* and I will do anything to protect it - and nothing - and NOBODY - will stand in my way from doing so," he said the words in a calm and soft whisper, but his eyes glittered feverishly. He turned his attention back to the fallen Johnston and his lips curled up derisively. "Open the damn door to see if anybody's coming and help me get him out of here," he snarled.

Evans took one last look down at Johnston before he turned around and obeyed O'Malley's commands. He opened the door and looked around the hallway furtively. He saw a large rollaway where dirty linens were being placed two doors down and quickly rolled it over to the door. He took another look around to see if anybody was about before he re-entered the room and pointed to the rollaway.

"Good," O'Malley grunted. Together, they lifted Johnston up and carried him to the door. Without further ceremony, they dumped their colleague's prone body into the rollaway. They closed Alexander's bedroom door shut, locked it, and quickly pushed the rollaway down the hall towards the rear of the converted castle, making sure that nobody saw them as they left.

Sandy
- Monday, August 04, 2003 at 19:56:51 (PDT)

Hi--not the owner of the site (that would be Suzanne, and yes, she most certainly does both read and keep this site, along with help from trusted members of the DoC) but I thought I'd explain to you that the man who was in "Underground," aka "Underground Terror" was Allen Lewis Rickman, who also occassionally goes by shudder Al Rickman.

Double "l" e-n is most certainly a different individual than our own single "l" a-n.

The Continuity Girl
- Monday, August 04, 2003 at 17:16:43 (PDT)

Im not sure if the owner of this site still reads these, but i was looking through the filmograpghy to had written and was shocked to find that " The Underground Terror(1990)", wasn't there. Well now you know there is one more movie to add to his already extrodinary resume.
Candice <rainydayz101@hotmail.com>
What about Underground Terror, - Monday, August 04, 2003 at 16:33:34 (PDT)

Im not sure if the owner of this site still reads these, but i was looking through the filmograpghy to had written and was shocked to find that " The Underground Terror(1990)", wasn't there. Well now you know there is one more movie to add to his already extrodinary resume.
Candice <rainydayz101@hotmail.com>
What about Underground Terror, - Monday, August 04, 2003 at 16:33:17 (PDT)

TRUE LOVE'S CURSE: Tuesday

Gwenevere was the love of a thousand lifetimes and Severus knew he would never be content living without her. She was a part of him now and her essence ran with his blood and dwelled in his brain, he loved her more than life itself. He was planning to ask her to marry him on Sunday; however, tonight’s spontaneity pleased him immensely. The Headmaster could perform the ceremony the following weekend after he, Severus, had the chance to discuss his dreaded past with her.

The idea of changing her status to “officially unavailable” was not unappealing to him in the least, as the grapevine had made it known that a rare sighting of the lovely and gracious Gwenevere ranked extremely high amongst the single wizards coursing the corridors and staff facilities at Hogwarts. They were often seen lurking about the restricted section of the library between classes, popping Altoids and spending more time searching up and down passageways than perusing bookshelves.

He gazed at her for moments more, appreciating her sensual beauty, letting his eyes linger while giving silent thanks for his night vision being so especially acute and hers so especially weak. He traced his fingers slowly and provocatively in her hand.

“So… that’s your Achilles heel is it?” he asked with arched brows and a quick tilt of his head. He was well aware that she was in need of a cover, he felt her shiver just now while holding her hand.

She closed her eyes and pictured his quizzical expression in her mind’s eye. A tentative smile echoed her thoughts as she mused over his comment; he then slowly advanced toward her, and eased her down again with… the kiss that she could not resist, and well he knew it. His closeness warmed her quickly and completely.

“Severus…” said Gwenevere cautiously. She had no human willpower left to stop him. She was emotional putty in his hands.

“Nothing fatal will happen here Gwenevere … you have my word on it... I have no intentions of dieing any time soon, so just relax, you are in very good hands tonight… trust me.” He assured her in his calm, quiet velvety voice, her blood instantly rushing hot upon hearing it.

“I do trust you Severus.” She lamented. A soft sigh escaped her and her arms embraced him, her fingers waded through his thick black shoulder-length hair as he kissed her again slowly and passionately, as only he could do. A kiss that made her feel lightheaded and carefree and wishing it would last forever.

Like great, notched interlocking gears slowly creaking into motion. As a result of its recent failure, the curse became angered and restless as if it had a life of its own. It fed and thrived on effortlessly stealing the lives away from lovers. Events fell into play and traps were set, fore it is written: the curse shall not be destroyed.

lee
Janine, Thank you! Pam, turn up that A/C again, Les, no one is invited, but do send the gift; a nice BIG bottle of cognac perhaps? (just kidding:)lol, - Monday, August 04, 2003 at 15:48:13 (PDT)

Thank you Les and Lee for the info! I'll keep it in mind.
Cat
If you haven't seen Dogma or HP1 or HP2... I recommend seeing them!, - Monday, August 04, 2003 at 09:32:36 (PDT)

Hi Cat, The best thing to do is to “claim” an unclaimed character and write a story. (See who’s who listings) You may then ask permission to borrow, for a day, a claimed character for an unromantic cameo appearance in your story. This system keeps the continuity and has worked well here for a long time. I am one of the newest writers here, but this is my interpretation of the customary decorum. If anyone has additional information, please add or correct what I have stated. I hope this helps. :)
lee
- Monday, August 04, 2003 at 05:30:41 (PDT)

Wow Lee you just get better and better! Thank you for your hard work.
Janine
- Sunday, August 03, 2003 at 21:45:33 (PDT)

Sorry Cat, I'm not part of the management or the Flights of Fancy crew. I'm just a fan, enjoying myself and interacting in the Downtime Bar. Someday, with permission, I'd like to write for Flights of Fancy, but a character of my liking isn't up for grabs. With all do respect to all, if I go too far, please let me know. Well, back to the bar with me.
Les
CA, - Sunday, August 03, 2003 at 21:07:52 (PDT)

Rhys and Lee, I was wondering if it would be alright if I write a story about Severus and Metatron (they might come into contact with each other as friends or something, I haven't decided). Rhys... is it alright if I claim Metatron, too?
Cat
I saw Dogma again... and I loved it!!! I love that movie!!!, - Sunday, August 03, 2003 at 19:53:26 (PDT)

TRUE LOVE'S CURSE: For Monday

A responsible thought was slowly fighting its way to the surface of Gwenevere’s consciousness as Severus’s white Slytherin shirt slid down over the edge of the bed, falling on top of a mountainous heap of expensive clothing the apex of which was her black lacy slip turned inside out. She opened her eyes, and removed her thigh from where it had been provocatively parked for some time.

“Severus… don’t…Stop.” She barely managed to say through waves of passion so intense and distracting, that the sparks were too abundant to see anything except a faint outline of him. Though she did not really want him to stop, ever.

“Don’t worry my love, I wasn’t planning to stop. We have all night.” Purred Severus tenderly, he replaced her thigh in one graceful motion and finished kissing down her delicate collarbones. He was reaching behind her back to locate hooks.

“No, I mean cease and desist… Abstain and refrain… Discontinue…Halt… We can not do this now, the curse Severus.” The words were spoken from her lips, but she wasn’t sure how. She tried to concentrate on matters life and death instead of his unfathomable talents in affairs private in nature. She was determined to gain control of this situation, but it appeared almost hopeless.

“I have other things on my mind just now Gwenevere.” He quietly said. He had finally located the hooks and a new wave of excitement and anticipation washed resolutely over him, as he was certain the ultimate reward was mere moments away.

“Well then think of my Grandmother will you?” She was desperate for a solution; she had no other choice. He winced visibly, closing his eyes, and stopped at once.

“Your Grandmother?” Asked Severus in disbelief. He couldn’t believe this was happening. How could she bring up the grandmother at a time like this? Couldn’t she have at least waited one more minute? “Damn,” he thought. He knew this was checkmate.

As if a bucket of icy cold water had been poured over them, fear took hold and Gwenevere came fully to her senses once Severus pulled back and stopped kissing her neck. His lovemaking was truly magical and she desperately ached for it and wanted more, but certainly not at the expense of his very life! She sat bolt upright and engaged in a fit of scolding the likes of which he had never seen from her before in such magnitude.

“Severus Snape! What are we doing? What on earth were we thinking? This is a life and death situation we have here. I admit…I accept more than half the censure for my weakness tonight, but I insist that you accept more than half of the responsibility from this point henceforth. You must promise me that you will take it upon yourself to be the stronger one, as I obviously cannot. I will consider it a testament to your will, character and resolve. You must insist on authority over it, it will be your obligation to protect us from the bloody curse because I love you and cannot live without you if you are dead, and if we cannot mind the curse any longer then we shall need to do… something as I am completely powerless when you… kiss me that way and under no circumstances are you to ever do… that to my neck again until the curse is broken as it is my Achilles heel is that understood?”
she looked at him with fury in her eyes, she was frightened and incensed at their combined thorough disregard for the danger. He said nothing.

“Well then!” She asked impatiently.

“I’m thinking,” He said.

“About what?” She demanded incredulously.

“About my schedule for tomorrow and what I shall say to the Headmaster.” He calmly said.

“What are you saying? You’re joking right?” she said cautiously.

“No.” though it was extremely dark, Gwenevere knew Severus was very serious. She could feel his eyes upon her. The air was thick with his intense presence. Her stomach was doing back flips and teeming with excitement and panic together. Her pulse was racing, and the hairs on her forearms reacted to a wave of goose bumps.

“Gwenevere I love you, will you marry me?” He asked.

Her fearfulness and rigidity instantly melted away upon hearing the words, her love for Severus flooded in, overwhelming her senses.

“Yes…I will marry you Severus.” She answered. They were still and silent for a few moments.

“I am afraid I don’t have a proper ring to give you just yet.” He confessed quietly, taking her trembling hand in his warm steady hand.

She closed her eyes and could still feel the edges of his body heat; Severus was never cold. She was starting to feel slightly chilled as a result of high emotions and the damp night air filtering inside the ancient, cold stone castle walls around the windows. The storm continued pounding angrily at the windows outside and she wanted to be safe in his warm, reassuring arms again.

A half grin started to appear on Severus’s lips, he adored Gwenevere’s hot, spirited temperament with a passion.

“That is quite all right.” She answered gently as if still in mild shock. She wasn’t expecting his marriage proposal tonight; nevertheless euphoria had now added itself to the long list of emotions affecting her presently.

More moments passed in silence. Gwenevere’s heart was pounding and she wanted to kiss him, but did she dare? What was he going to do now she wondered? She gripped her right hand on her left shoulder in a feeble attempt to warm up a bit, and waited for his response...

lee
Thank you Pam, I do hope you are fully recuperated and feeling fine. Thank you Cat, I am very pleased that you like the stories! I am in need of a Metatron fix myself, come to think of it. , - Sunday, August 03, 2003 at 17:23:58 (PDT)

The set was abuzz with rumour:

“Is it true?”
“Has anyone seen it?”
“Mellisande did, she says its real bad.”
“How could such a thing happen?”
“Animals.”
“It wasn’t his fault…”
“You’re always defending them.”
“He didn’t realize it was her!”
“Is it true his nick-name is Fang?”
“It is now.”
“How could he not know! It was her thumb for goodness sake.”
“He thought it was the clippers.”
“You should see the bandage. It looks like she’s wound in cotton candy.”
“The Continuity Girl is going to have fits.”
“I suppose they could say Dev did something to it.”
“I don’t think so.”
“It’s not really bitten off is it?”
“No, where did you hear that?”
“So they’re not really looking for donors, then.”
“What did the Director say?”
“I heard he might fire her.”
“I heard Dev got evicted.”
“I heard it was really Tory who bit her when she was going for Dev.”
“I heard she hasn’t been paid in six months. Maybe it’s a bid for attention.”
“You know how these arteeest types are.”
“I heard she bandaged it herself.”
“That would explain the candy floss effect.”
“It’s probably a big hoax.”
“No, I heard Dev marched over to the stables to shoot the horse.”
“He wouldn’t. Therese would shoot him.”

In honour of a wounded comrade
who is finding typing rather difficult., - Sunday, August 03, 2003 at 10:34:59 (PDT)

Hi, all! I would first off like to say to Rhys and Lee that your stories are coming out great! Keep up the good work! Second, my favorite films that Alan Rickman is in are Dogma and HP. Severus and Metatron are awesome! My favorite character between the two is Metatron... but Severus comes to a VERY close second. Third, this is a great site, and I hope I can come online more often to post, read, and view this site.
Cat
AR rocks!!!, - Saturday, August 02, 2003 at 18:35:36 (PDT)

Hi Lee, What a fnatastic story! I have been under the weather for a day or so and just had a chance to get back on here! Yikes-what a plot-keep up the good work-the story really helped me recuperate...Oh Sevi--
Pam H. <sholman@tmlp.com>
- Saturday, August 02, 2003 at 16:54:40 (PDT)

Just pretend there's a paragraph after the asterisks.
Cindie
You lot have decent imaginations, right?, - Saturday, August 02, 2003 at 06:43:46 (PDT)

Cindie’s cube:
She’s wasting a lot of time in there today:

She sat staring at the picture, smoothing out the creases with the side of her hand, unwilling to reach the obvious conclusion. They were friends, she knew that and she’d be damned if she’d get into a jealous snit because he’d gone to see her on an evening when she’d refused to go out with him. He’d wanted to talk and she’d slammed the door in his face. No, she certainly had no cause to complain when he sought out a friend with whom he could confide. But she could wish he’d gone to see Brandon or Dev or the Director.

The photograph was of Mistral walking down a set of outdoor stairs. Cindie knew they belonged to Mary Anne’s flat.

Resolutely she folded the paper, replacing the creases she’d so carefully removed and deposited the paper in her dust bin. This one was not one for the scrap books.

******* The colours of the garden were muted by the sinking light when Mistral made his way along the cinder path he’d taken with her. By some quirk of time that day seemed both like merely yesterday and several ages ago. Since that time she’d twined herself into his life like the climbing rose through the trellis he approached. To attempt to extract one from the other would be a task both painful and pointless.

She was on the wrought iron bench among the blooms when he came upon her. A pad of paper sat on her lap and a pen-like object was being held poised over it. Instead of writing with it she twirled it absently. At the sound of his footfall crunching the cinders she looked up at him. Her smile was instant. There was a suspended moment when his heart was contained in her welcoming brown eyes. It was over when uncertainty crept in and he mourned its presence. He continued to approach, undaunted by this uninvited element. He would know her mind and he would know it now.

“Patrick.” Her tone was matter of fact, as though he were inevitable. In point of fact, he was.

He stood there before her for what seemed a long moment. It was only several seconds but each one counted heavily as he regarded her. “Come here.” He knew his tone was commanding where it perhaps ought to be cajoling. It was also accompanied by a look which could turn sand to glass and he was pleased to see that she actually complied. Her compliance was with deliberation rather than alacrity as she placed the pad beside her on the bench, settled the pen upon it and then stood. Her gaze nearly matched his in depth before she began to move forward. At some point his arms opened to accommodate her presence and he folded her in.

After another interval she pulled back enough to look up at him. After doing this she pressed her cheek against his shirt front and murmured into his chest. “We have to talk.”

“Yes, I know. I did try to do that yesterday if you recall.” His arms tightened around her and felt her subtle quiver.

“I wasn’t ready to talk yesterday.”

“Are you ready now?”

“No.” She sighed and he remained silent. There was a note of resolve in her voice when she continued, “but I don’t want to put it off any longer. This ‘not quite right’ we have just now – I don’t like it.”

“I don’t much fancy it myself.” He tilted her chin up so that he could look into her eyes again. His certitude fixed, he stated, “You will tell me what transpired.”

“Yes. Mostly.” She held the gaze. “Are you going to tell me what happened last night?”

“Do I need to?”

He heard the note of hesitation, “I’m not sure.”

His body stiffened but his reply was bland. “I am not accustomed to accounting for my actions.” At this he felt her begin to pull back but he forestalled her when he continued to speak. “But I would have no unnecessary obfuscation between us. I shall clarify anything you wish.”

“Oh, Patrick.” As dialogue went it was hardly inspiring but Mistral found it welcome just the same. He led her back to the bench. It was a secluded spot and no Delaford scenes were scheduled in the near future so they could be private. They settled in and he waited for her to speak.

Cindie
- Saturday, August 02, 2003 at 06:42:01 (PDT)

TRUE LOVE'S CURSE: weekend

And now…for something completely different:

Severus kissed Gwenevere Deeply as if wed.
Love Actually the reason for those sparks in clouds of red.
Severus Quest coatless, coaxing Gwenevere to bed.
Close my eyes to lives which now were hanging by a thread.
In Demand- Adventure where Fallen Angels fear to tread.
Severus kept Chambers of Secrets as he fed.
If Private Lives did kill him, I’d be worth it- -being dead!
But, Gwenevere was Awfully sure of dangers up ahead.
A Closet Land her conscience; lists of rules that had embed.
Thought Madly of her promise to her Grandmother instead.
“If he Trulyloves you he’ll propose” is what she’d said.
Sensibility her secret recipe for making bread.
The only thing to do was drop the Dogma made of lead.
This can’t go on, this must Die Hard, even if he pled.
She Mesmerized the courage to deliver him his dread.
Avoiding Judas Kiss alas for death there is no med.
For "Romeo and Juliet” cold showers aft she’d fled.
“Prince of Thieves” return again for deadly games coed.

lee <A HTML nightmareI hope I don't screw up>
I was having a bit of fun here with some of Alan’s excellent work. Lol… Les, things may be looking up after all. Joan, I thought it was amusing when Snape threw the jacket over the cat. Did he seek privacy or was he simply letting Boots know who was boss? Janine, please keep the Windex handy. You just never know with these two! We will return to the boudoir on Monday. :), - Saturday, August 02, 2003 at 06:37:46 (PDT)

^-^ Just a quick hello to anyone special who might read this ( you know who you are) ^-^ Fantastic site, keep up the excellent work
Candice Affleck <rainydayz101@hotmail.com>
Pleasure to be here, - Friday, August 01, 2003 at 18:33:49 (PDT)

I've just seen Dogma for the first time, and it was COOL! Does anyone think that the Metatron's hair looks slightly PURPLE?! Or that he is wearing a great deal of make-up?! But hey, he's still sweet. And the wings look cute. But he CAN'T do a London cabby accent - he speaks in too posh a voice. But that's just Alan, I suppose!
Rufus Sloane
Tequila! And an empty glass!, - Friday, August 01, 2003 at 10:53:20 (PDT)

"We're men, men in tights!" Oh yeahhhh - go Spoons, itsya birthday!
The Mad Duo
The Sheriff is coming to get us..., - Friday, August 01, 2003 at 10:42:10 (PDT)

Because Poor old Joe was feelin' left out, I decided to claim him-Don't worry, he's in a nice big aquarium with no other fishie-wishies! Happy Campin'! P.S. I'm mates with Cristina, in fact we are using the same computer...SPOOKY EH? Whooo! Go spoons!!!
DW
Awww, look! a dove-the symbol of peace! Maybe I should feed it...to a CAT!, - Friday, August 01, 2003 at 02:04:06 (PDT)

OK, Ok, Ok - I have claimed - DRUMROLL PLEASE - John Gissing! Whay-hey! Lookin' forward to posting! Hey, I'm in a HP mood.....ACONITE FOREVER! Sorry.
Cristina
Look out, Mr Gissing, I'm a-comin to get you!, - Friday, August 01, 2003 at 01:57:43 (PDT)

Pleese D.o.C, can you delete my duplicated post? Sorry for the inconvienience.
Me again (Cristina)
- Friday, August 01, 2003 at 01:35:01 (PDT)

Thanx Therese for posting back. My actual age is fifteen, so does that enable me to qualify for a wench-status?
Cristina
I love Alan and his tequilas..., - Friday, August 01, 2003 at 01:33:48 (PDT)

Thanx Therese for posting back. My actual age is fifteen, so does that enable me to qualify for a wench-status?
Cristina
I love Alan and his tequilas..., - Friday, August 01, 2003 at 01:33:29 (PDT)