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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I've been published on the Sugar Quill!

*insert shriek of delight here*

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

The title is Afterwards

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Headmaster.” He said quietly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Joke.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How did I miss that section?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Wizard's Tale: After the Meeting

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

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

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

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

BLAAAAAAAAT!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Therese makes a rude noise. “Only three?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“From time to time.”

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

“It would seem so, yes.”

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

“I’m glad, Cindie. I am so glad.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Delectable Snack

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

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

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

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

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

Just a little closer, moggy..

The cat lifted a paw…

Another inch…

It flexed its claws…

It lowered its paw into the tank…

The first claw touched the smooth surface of the water…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just relax Severus.” She said quietly.

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

“Severus?” She purred.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Severus! I just remembered Dobby!”

“He is fine don’t worry.” He said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Truly Eventful Year

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Er, DoC. . .

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

::hanging head in shame::

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

The Beer and Baritone—slight flashback

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not a word of it,” Bryn responded.

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

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

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

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

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

Phil Allen & Barbara Vanders

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

The Beer and Baritone:

“I find I’m rather counting on that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good thinking.”

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

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

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

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

A Truly Eventful Year

"Let's get back to our room," said Fiona wearily. "I'm tired now." Silently they trooped back to the wing of the junior boarding house.
Liza Rosette
- Friday, March 12th 2004 - 02:13:15 PM

Oh don't worry Claire. They will all talk, and Gwen quiet? I don't think so...
lee
- Friday, March 12th 2004 - 01:29:18 PM

Very good Lee, but I really don't think it is a good idea to keep Gwen quiet. They should have talked about it a little more.
claire , <prague@iwon.com>
- Friday, March 12th 2004 - 12:19:55 PM

Shortly after the Headmaster arrived, pandemonium broke out in McClane’s room. Hospital personnel from Saint Mungo’s were busily stabilizing the victim and then they quietly carried him out to the magical ambulance without being seen through the use of clever disguises and sneaky spells. When they were finally gone, Professor Dumbledore turned to the Professors Collins and Snape for answers.

“Severus, please tell me what you know about this.” Asked Dumbledore softly. Snape paused for several long moments before answering.

“I know very little. Dobby found McClane and assumed that I had something to do with it.” He said in slow deep tones. Gwenevere was searching his face for leads but found none.

“Victoria?” said Dumbledore. She turned her head quickly towards the Headmaster and tried to think of an answer, which conveniently left out crucial elements. Not exactly a lie though.

“Well…yes, Dobby came to me and was very upset. I er…asked Severus to investigate…and here we are. Actually. Sir.” She said. Snape regarded her questionably.

“Any ideas as to who could have done such a thing to Professor McClane? And why?” the Headmaster asked slightly skeptical of Gwenevere’s statement.

“No! I mean…this thing is truly unbelievable and I don’t know who could have perpetrated such a crime at Hogwarts no less…and” Gwenevere stammered. To her relief, Snape intervened.

“Headmaster, we need to get to lecture now so could we please postpone this discussion until eight o’clock? Perhaps?” He asked. Professor Dumbledore regarded them both over his spectacles.

“Yes, certainly. I would advise you two to get your stories straight before speaking to the Minister of Magic tonight.” He said sternly. Snape stood stoically silent and Gwenevere nodded her head slightly.

“Yes sir.” She said quietly.

“Headmaster.” Snape said as he bowed himself out of the room. They closed the door to McClane’s quarters behind them and strode to the dungeons-- the quick way. “Severus, what are we going to do about the Ministry of Magic?” She said as they rounded a staircase and took on another.

“Let me handle them. You need to keep quiet do you understand?” Snape said flatly. Gwenevere shot him a sideways stare.

“How can I keep quiet? They will want to know what I know about this. And what about Dobby?” She contended.

“I will perform a memory wipe on him, not to worry.” He assured her.

“What are you going to tell the Ministry of Magic then?” She asked. Their feet were in perfect unison as they strode the corridor together.

“Just let me handle it and follow my lead. I’ll think of something by then.” He snapped.

They entered the dungeon and took their places. Gwenevere looked up at Snape periodically as he took down attendance. She was as nervous as a cat and could not concentrate, instead, she was thinking about what she would say to the Ministry of Magic if asked a question about McClane.

Snape was in a foul mood following the ordeal and took no pains to hide that fact from those in the classroom. He paced the room like a shark cruising the water for the smell of blood and isolated several students each to quiz. He spun round; flipping hair from his face and his is eyes were dull and unyielding as he waited for answers to splintery questions with folded arms.

Gwenevere shuddered at the thought of Cornelius Fudge confronting him tonight and wondered what he would say. His footfalls were methodical and his mannerisms calculated as he stalked his next victim. A pin dropped on velvet could have been heard, as wan faces dared not even blink thus attracting his focus on them. At last, he apparently grew bored with the cat and mouse game and continued to lecture.

Collective sighs issued about the room and Gwenevere resumed her fidgeting, wishing that she had brought her books, parchment and quill to class. Then she thought about Dobby. Snape’s icy voice sounded and replaced her thoughts.

“Class, I want twelve…no make it fifteen inches of parchment, by Friday, on the properties of mercury and its uses in potion making. You are dismissed.” He said with a smirk. Gwenevere collected her nerves and busied her hands with the ends of her hair as she waited for the class to leave. It was a short wait.

She approached Snape at his desk and started to speak but was silenced by the sight of Professor Dumbledore and the Minister of Magic, Cornelius fudge as they entered the dungeon.
lee
Thanks Sophie, I love Dumbledore as well. MWM—or how about a white rat? Haha. Claire? I thought you lovvved them? Here is another one. Harry?! That’s funny, I cracked up! Yes, it must be him. You are welcome Black Wolf, and I meant every word of it. You are a strong girl to give up chocolate…ouch! Thanks Alison…I am so glad you laughed too, so did I., - Friday, March 12th 2004 - 12:06:56 PM

The Beer and Baritone, Wales:

Alexander Dane's eyes narrowed as he focused in on his target. He raised his right arm, slightly correcting the position of the dart he held between his fingers. A moment's hesitation and then he whipped it towards the dartboard. It landed with a satisfying *thwap* just to the right of the bullseye.

Smiling grimly, he repeated the process twice before reaching over for a full glass of Guinness waiting obligingly for him at a nearby table. He raised it to his lips and took a draught, the bitter and yeasty flavors of the dark brew dancing over his tongue before he swallowed the liquid. Sighing, he put the glass down and walked over to the bullseye to pull out the darts, feeling the liquor's warm burn begin in his stomach.

Having completed that task, he retreated from the dartboard, turned around, paused to aim at his target and threw. His mind distantly registered the pub's noise surrounding him as the dart hit the board. He heard someone from the Male Choir from the funeral services begin singing, several of his mates and patrons joining in. That mixed in with laughter, the sharp *thwock* of a cue hitting the ball over at the snooker table as a game started up and other voices talking quietly about the issues of the day suited the state of his mind well. His thoughts turned back to part of a conversation that he and Sandy had while walking down the hall towards their bedrooms the night before:

"There's something about this place..."

Sandy nodded, her head tilting upward to gaze at the rich paneling on the walls. "It's beautiful but there's no warmth here." She chuckled ruefully then, her mouth turning up in a tiny smile. "Don't mind me, Alex. It's probably just dwelling upon tomorrow's business."

Alexander squeezed her waist, pulling her close to him. "No. You're right," he answered slowly. "There *is* no warmth here. I suspect there hasn't been for a very long time."

A long pause before there was a quiet response of, "It's a house, but not a *home*."

Not a home... Alexander's lips twitched as he raised the glass to take another drink. Maudlin-sounding perhaps, he reflected, but strangely appropriate too. He growled under his breath as he tossed another dart and got ready to throw a third when he felt someone's hand touching his shoulder. He looked over to see who it was and the left side of his mouth turned up in a crooked smile.

"What did that poor, innocent dartboard do to deserve such heinous abuse from you, Alex?" Sandy's eyes sparkled impishly as she gazed up at him.

"I see that the lot of you managed to find us after all," Alexander replied, laughing softly.

She nodded, her left eyebrow rising. "Yeah - and you're in Dutch with Alan, may I add."

Both eyebrows shot up at that remark. "What on earth do you mean by that?" He handed Sandy half the darts that he had been tossing at the board.

"You left him behind with us crazy women-folk and I think he got a severe case of estrogen overexposure."

Alexander threw his head back and roared with laughter. "Where *do* you come up with these ideas?"

Sandy looked highly affronted at his question. "You think that I'm kidding? My goodness, he had a total freak-out back there. One would've thought that his suit and shoes were going to transform into a ball gown and high heels right then and there by the way he was acting!"

Alexander visibly shuddered. "Thank you for that, um, rather interesting mental image," he retorted dryly.

Sandy shrugged her shoulders eloquently. "Serves you right." She lined up her shot and tossed her first dart. It landed just below the bullseye.

Alexander shook his head and exhaled mightily as his dart landed next to hers. "I suppose we should be thankful that he didn't wear a hat today then. That would've transformed into a tiara," he answered airily.

The darts fell from Sandy's fingers and onto the floor with a clatter as her head shot up to meet his gaze. "Just how many have you had of those anyway?" she asked, pointing at the half-empty glass of Guinness.

Alexander watched in silent amusement as she struggled with trying not to burst into laughter. "That's the first one."

Her eyes widened at his reply and she surrendered to the giggles that had threatened for the past thirty seconds or so. "Dear God. Chris *is* right. I've been a terrible influence on you," she said, stooping down to pick up the darts she had dropped.

Alexander stooped down next to her and helped her gather them up. "No you haven't," he murmured, leaning over to brush his lips against hers briefly.

Sandy reached out to caress his cheek with her free hand post-kiss. "Careful, love. You might ruin your rep as a completely irascible act-OR!" she cautioned with a soft smile as they rose to their feet. "Best three out of four?"

Laughter rumbled from deep inside Alexander's chest as he nodded in agreement. "So you say!" he answered, hazel eyes twinkling as he lined up his next throw. "Honestly, I just don't know how these crazy rumors manage to get started..."

As the two continued their friendly competition, three rather unassuming-looking men sitting at a corner table watched the people in the pub as they sipped their pints of ale and spoke to each other in soft voices. They paid particular interest to the visiting celebrities in their midst, content in the knowledge that none of them had any idea that every move they made was being recorded, courtesy of a tiny pin that the man sitting in the center seat wore on his lapel.

Sandy
A warm, if belated welcome to Black Wolf and an equally warm welcome back to Diane!, - Friday, March 12th 2004 - 10:48:56 AM

Hmmm, intriguing Lee. And the hamster part really made me laugh!
Alison
- Thursday, March 11th 2004 - 01:50:04 PM

WOW! Thanks for all the positive feedback guys – especially Lee, you’ve made me feel so welcome! I’m glad your daughter enjoyed it – the next post will be just for her! - and I’m thrilled that you think I could write children’s books.

Hey, sorry I’ve been away for a couple of days. It was my birthday on Monday (and no, I’m not going to tell you how old I was!) I’ve been bombarded with huge bars of chocolate – and the only problem is, I’ve given it up for Lent! Ah…dribble dribble. I have, however, been composing more of my story – Chapter Three coming up soon!
Black Wolf
- Thursday, March 11th 2004 - 12:48:37 PM

Hey maybe Harry did it, he has a white snowy owl. hehe
claire , <prague@iwon.com>
- Thursday, March 11th 2004 - 12:16:55 PM

I have been saying its Voltaire for quite some time now, maybe I'm right or maybe I'm wrong. But, we will never know because Lee keeps writing cliffhangers, todays isn't but who wants to bet tomorrows is.
claire , <prague@iwon.com>
- Thursday, March 11th 2004 - 12:12:07 PM

Hamster!? I can just see it! ROFL
MWM
SD, - Thursday, March 11th 2004 - 10:35:50 AM

yay, Dumbledore, another character i love! hmmm white owl feathers, the mystery continues! loved it! :)
Sophie
UK - Thursday, March 11th 2004 - 10:16:58 AM

Snape was becoming so disgusted with the entire situation that he was seriously thinking of finishing McClane off if for no other reason than to actually be guilty of what he was sure to be accused of. Snape glanced at McClane’s stab wound and thoughts of rubbing salt in it crossed his mind until he looked closer.

“Look there.” Said Snape, pointing to something white. It was a tiny down feather, which was stuck fast in the pool of blood. The wind entering through the window was buffeting it wildly. Gwenevere shifted for a closer look and unsealed the bag.

“Does McClane own an owl then?” She asked, looking up at him. “I don’t think so, but I’ll look it up in the Hogwarts records. He might have gotten it from the owlry having just come from there. Look, there’s another one.” He said quietly.

“Do you think that he will survive?” she said as she placed the feathers in the bag with the note. He took out his wand again.

“Yes, I think so. We need to get him to hospital.” He said. Gwenevere looked at his wand as he poised it over McClane.

“What are you going to do?” She asked. Snape rolled his eyes.

“I thought that if we turn McClane into a hamster, he’ll be easier to carry…” He said sarcastically.

“You are not serious are you?” She asked, not willing to put it past him. Snape gave her the ‘no’ look.

“Good, we cannot disturb the scene.” She said with authority.

“What do you call what we’ve been doing here?” He asked. McClane moaned and Snape ignored it.

“Protecting the innocent.” Said Gwenevere as she placed the clear plastic bag in a safe place within her robes.

“Oh I see. And how do you know I am innocent?” He asked her softly. Gwenevere gazed at him intently.

“I just know.” she said and smiled. “Besides, its not your style. Too unsophisticated and disordered.” She added.

“I wouldn’t have botched the bloody thing!” He added.

Snape crossed the room, kicking obstructions from his path, and stood at the fireplace. He took the pot of floo powder from the mantle and was utterly disgusted, although not surprised, to find that it was completely empty. He rolled his eyes and tapped the pot with his wand thus replacing the supply. He threw a large pinch into the grate and emerald flames appeared around the logs.

He knelt down and called out “headmaster’s office.” Snape peered about the room and located the Headmaster’s desk.

Professor Dumbledore noticed him there and came round to have a closer look. The portraits on the walls pretended to be fast asleep and each one subtly turned their good ears towards the fire.

“Yes Severus. What is it?” asked Dumbledore; confused and aware that Snape seldom used floo powder to communicate within the castle.

“Headmaster, there has been ‘an incident’ in McClane’s room. He needs to go to hospital immediately.” Snape said with bored indifference.

“An incident Severus? Of what sort?” queried the Headmaster.

“He’s been stabbed sir.” He stated flatly.

“I see. I’ll be right there.” He said with the sigh of an old man under pressure.
lee
Snape's becoming cheeky I think. Maybe happy to see McClane get his comeuppance?, - Thursday, March 11th 2004 - 09:12:01 AM

Thanks Sophie! I am so glad you look forward to the next whatever happens. Makes perfect sense to me. Claire, McClane was going to be quite dead, but I saved him since you said you liked him…a bit. Plus, I can kick him round a little more then. Lol. Maybe he can have “Nurse Retched” in hospital. Right Alison, but he deserves it don’t you think? McClane is so foul. MWM, I am thinking Parker is too much of a wimp. Thanks Pam! Someday I would like to write a modern day murder mystery…I have lots of ideas. I am glad you like. Well Monica…It’s not a letter curse (but I will keep that in mind for future, great idea.) but there is most definitely something going on with that letter opener and Mr. V’s strange penning…. More clues to the story unfold today and when it is finally finished you will see how many more there were all along. (Subtle ones)
Thank you all for the posts, they’re great!
lee
- Thursday, March 11th 2004 - 09:04:13 AM

Hmm, Monica, good thought! I hadn't considered Voltaire, there's something much more menacing about him than Parker. We can only speculate and wait for Lee to reveal all in her own good time...
MWM
SD, - Thursday, March 11th 2004 - 09:00:48 AM

Lee, the first person that popped into my head was Parker, but then I remembered Voltaire(wasn't Gwen opening a letter from him. . .can curses be sent in an envelope?) (From HP where someone sent Herm. a note saying "I'll send a curse as soon as I can find an envelope big enouge." Only reason I say this is b/c Gwen couldn't open the letter with her letter opener and had to use her hands, and then later, a different letter opener. am I on the right trail?
Monica , <monicarnsg@yahoo.comfoo>
Texas, - Wednesday, March 10th 2004 - 11:42:43 PM

"Why?" Nigel asked, a slight wrinkle of worry etched across his forehead.

"It’s Mugger’s Day."

"Oh good God…" He rolled his eyes. "Tempsen, why didn’t you TELL me?"

"Sorry, sorry…" the pilot mumbled, clamoring out from his tube and staring straight down. He wrung his hands, humming a sort of mellow tune to show his oblique mind-frame all the more.

"Never mind, we’ll all just have to be wary. Keep an eye on the surroundings, you lot," he nodded to Ian, Diane, and Jamie, "and maintain a fine grip to all that you hold dear."

These instructions were incomprehensible at the moment, but obeyed nonetheless. A spark of fear had risen between the unknowing ‘lot’, yet neither one would admit nor show. Everything, so far, in this tip was rubbished mumble jumble to them, and just now had the realization sunk in to take nothing for granted. Assume the impossible, embrace the unreal.

The luggage was unloaded and divided between its owners, each unhappy with the newly added weight that they were now burdened to drag across these sandy shores. Nigel, heavily toned, assured all that inland it was much like any modern, civilized country (with a few exceptions). The travelers, however, found this hard to believe since it looked like they were reenacting Gilligan’s Island. It was hard to imagine streets and cars, building and luxury hotels enclosed behind the palms and ferns.

Jamie slid off his jacket of ebony, revealing a shirt of silver-blue tucked into his jeans. He was refreshed to relieve himself of that heavy jacket, especially in this heat. He reached over calmly to stuff it into a suitcase, and caught everyone’s stare. They eyed that suspicious glinting hand pistol clipped to his belt with utter remorse. He stiffened at their gazes, these questioning looks that peered inside, demanding ‘why?’. But that was private, and no one’s business but his to own. So he reacted for only a moment, and shrugged it off, resolving to normal. The others, too, broke out of their state, also removing unnecessary items of clothing.

Nigel called at them to increase their pace, but none paid mind, especially Diane who was working on pulling all her hair back into one giant ponytail. She had practically torn off her best, and was now wearing a loose, pale purple sleeveless top that exposed much of the upper portion of her body. Nigel was pouring water into his pith helmet and then clapping it back on his head, water dribbling down and sogging his hair. Ian had just taken the liberty of dismissing his tie and coat, a slightly ruffled white cotton shirt underneath. Diane couldn’t help but giggle as he rolled up the sleeves.

"Gives you a rugged pirate look," she whispered in his ear.

"Aye matey, argh."

More rolling of the eyes from Jamie.

"NOW are we ready?" Nigel inquired with impatience on his breath.

"I suppose." Diane let out a loud, obnoxious yawn. Ian followed her example. They were ignored.

"Then let’s make haste. You there! Yes, you, Paranoid!"

The swimmer bound over, having previously been inhaling a water bottle stolen from Captain Tempsen’s tote bag.

"Y-yes?"

"What is your name?"

The Paranoid seemed to find this an odd question at first, and there was a pause before answering. "Miles, sir, just Miles." He jumped as there was a distant splash in the background.

"Well, Miles, how far is it to the nearest city?"

Diane, Pushing Forth :) , <webmistress_diane@eric-idle.com>
- Wednesday, March 10th 2004 - 09:17:31 PM

Hi Lee, Great story! Loved the new chapter. This is turning out to be quite a Nancy Drew/Hardy Boys mystery!
Pam
Massachusetts, usa - Wednesday, March 10th 2004 - 06:25:50 PM

Hallo MWM- just wanted to say thanks for checking out my site, *wink*, and for signing my GB. Yes- my story is very Pythonesque (which IS a real word) because it is a combination of three things: Suddenly Susan (Ian, played by Eric Idle), Truly Madly Deeply (I think we know this one, lol), and The Rutland Isles (Eric's brand-new comedy CD). So I'm trying to make it Pythonesque. Python is my thing, lol. Glad you noticed! Hehe.
Diane
- Wednesday, March 10th 2004 - 04:54:21 PM

Sorry about the double post earlier - my computer is doing strange things. I must admit Parker had also crossed my mind as a likely candidate, but would he have the guts? I guess Lee is going to torture us some more with this, keeping us in suspense. Don't we just love it though!!
Alison
- Wednesday, March 10th 2004 - 02:55:12 PM

Good point!
Sophie
UK - Wednesday, March 10th 2004 - 02:23:03 PM

He's down but not out. What a great plot twist. Could it be Parker? Or is he too much of a wimp??
MWM
SD, - Wednesday, March 10th 2004 - 01:47:50 PM

Sorry, miss, no returns on the Norwegian Blue.
What can I say? , <I have no self control whatsoever>
- Wednesday, March 10th 2004 - 01:41:26 PM

Wow, another exciting twist to the tale! I was sure McClane would come to a bad end one way or the other.
Alison , <sevsnapesgirl2@aol.com>
- Wednesday, March 10th 2004 - 01:39:13 PM

heehee, surely you didnt mean "it's" *wink* he might not be though :)
Sophie
UK - Wednesday, March 10th 2004 - 12:53:54 PM

Thank you Lee, relieve some tension. Poor McClane. It's dead
claire , <prague@iwon.com>
- Wednesday, March 10th 2004 - 12:35:11 PM

Excellent! i love it :) i bet your hound is cute then, so sweet awww. every episode is a cliffhanger when you're waiting for the next whatever happens in it (if that made sense - something im never able to accomoplish) :)
Sophie
UK - Wednesday, March 10th 2004 - 12:25:06 PM

A Truly Eventful Year

"Yes, Mrs Reginald."
Liza Rosette
- Wednesday, March 10th 2004 - 12:19:21 PM

The temperature in McClane’s room was a bizarre mixture of hot and cold owing to the glaring heat from a large fire in the fireplace in the front room and a wide-open window in the back room, which was admitting wind and rain.

McClane’s housekeeping was less than tidy. There were towering stacks of parchment dating back almost fifteen years apparently waiting for McClane to grade them. Books, clothes, food, empty sherry bottles, libanomancy charts, rude publications and Daily Prophets scattered and stacked in every available corner and table surface amongst the dust. Gwenevere looked around the room and hovered closer to Snape as if the filth would attack her at any moment.

“Did Dobby say that he was coming in here to clean?” Said Gwenevere sarcastically.

Snape was appalled and narrowed his eyes in reaction to the debris. Then it hit them. The odious combination of stale sherry, sweaty socks and the metallic pungent smell of blood hit Snape’s nostrils. He regarded Gwenevere intently.

“Maybe you should wait here while I investigate McClane’s room.” He said, visually choosing his path to the back room. Gwenevere looked about nervously.

“Please. I’m all right.” She said boldly. Snape sighed heavily.

“Very well.” He said as he picked his way to the bedroom.

Gwenevere gasped and brought her hand to her mouth. There lay McClane on the bed in a pool of blood. Snape hurried over to him, stepping over obstacles, and placed his fingers on McClane’s jugular. He felt the faint thread of a pulse.

“He’s still alive.” He said. Gwenevere rushed over to his side.

“Severus what’s happened to him?” she asked surveying the scene.

“Looks like a stab wound in the back. He needs to go to Saint Mungo’s.” Snape said, as if bothered by the inconvenience of it all.

“Severus, who would have…could have done this to him?” She asked. The shock stemming from the realization that such a thing could happen at Hogwarts was beginning to set in.

“And why? There could be a hundred reasons to choose from...” He replied stoically. He reached for McClane but Gwenevere stopped him.

“Wait! What’s that?” She said. Snape questioned her with his eyes.

Gwenevere pointed to a torn piece of parchment and carefully picked it up. The erratic handwriting scrawled out a message of some sort:

Tall and rare
Raven hair
Lips so fair
Suitors beware

Touch what’s mine
Pay the fine,
You’ll not live
T’ repeat your crime!

Snape took the note from her hand and read the rhyme out loud. Their eyes met and they were both thinking the same thing.

“Oh no…” Gwenevere said as dread and guilt slowly enveloped her.

“I have the feeling that you are the object of this venomous little love sonnet.” Snape said.

Gwenevere looked away and pushed down the rising emotion in her temples. She disliked McClane but wished him no permanent harm. Somehow she felt responsible for his condition and wished that this unwanted attention would simply end. She thought that maybe if she hadn’t defended herself in the owlry, he would not be in his situation now. Snape read her emotions and lifted her face towards his so that their eyes met.

“McClane brought this on himself. He’s had something like this coming to him for years and my only regret is that the sodding incompetent bastard botched the bloody job.” He hissed, malice hammering from his dull merciless eyes. Gwenevere slowly shook her head.

“Severus--we must find out who did this yet how could they have possibly known?” She said, cursing the lack of space to pace.

“Dobby? Perhaps?” Snape offered with a shrug. Gwenevere shook her head.

“No, I never told him anything about McClane.” She said. “As far as I know, you and I are the only ones who knew about McClane which means that someone else must have seen the incident.”

Gwenevere was digging in the pocket of her robes for something. She pulled out a clear plastic bag with a pair of batteries in it.

“What’s that?” Snape said squinting at the odd muggle enclosure.

“Batteries for my torch; I nicked them from my grandmother’s kitchen table the last time I was there. For emergencies. We can use the bag for collecting evidence. This is clearly attempted murder and the most likely suspect is …” She said, taking the parchment scrap from him and placing it in the ‘evidence’ bag.

“Why would I ‘stab’ McClane?” Snape said. McClane groaned.

“You wouldn’t, but they could say that you did it to elude the authorities or you were mad with rage or something.” She said, sealing the bag.
lee
Alison, here it is! Sophie--one of my hounds looks like Dobby, lol. Thanks Liza! Look Claire, no cliffhangers today., - Wednesday, March 10th 2004 - 11:57:24 AM

Okay, lets all behave now! Even that Scotsman on a horse! Back to reality then.
lee, sorry... I’d like to please return this parrot…
- Wednesday, March 10th 2004 - 11:43:57 AM

Python Fan and Python Wisdom - Don't worry, we'll not wander too far astray - Lee will pull us back any minute. I must blame dear Diane's Truly, Madly, Rutland Isles. It felt Pythonesque (if that's not a word, it should be), then I noticed Diane is webmistress of a lovely page devoted to Eric Idle. I just lost my head. I'll behave now, promise! ;D
MWM
SD, - Wednesday, March 10th 2004 - 10:50:44 AM

Being quite fond of Monty Python, I'm sure we all know there are other movies. I don't see the problem of breaking the monotony of the moment to joke about another talented group of actors, as long as we don't change the subject of the room doing it. (in which I don't see how we can get off the subject of Severus and Gwen)
claire , <prague@iwon.com>
- Wednesday, March 10th 2004 - 10:36:44 AM

The Beer and Baritone:

“You needn’t look so scared.” Mistral’s tone was mild.

“Scared hardly covers it.” Cindie did not even attempt nonchalance.

“You, I think, are not surprised.”

“Surprised? No I suppose not. It’s just that – we’re in public; you’ve said yourself your future is uncertain. And… we’re in public.” Cindie looked around. Though no one was paying them particular attention they were far from alone.

“Yes, it’s not terribly guarded of me, is it? Most out of character.” He leant toward her, eyes gone dark, “Damn character. I know you you’ve no intention of leaving until everything is over and settled, one way or another.”

“You’re right there. I did think your declaration that I’d toddle off while you faced things alone was rather half hearted.” Cindie was beginning to compose herself.

“There is nothing half hearted at work here, I assure you.”

“I find I’m rather counting on that.”

Cindie
They just wouldn't leave me alone tonight and me with a new book to read...
- Tuesday, March 9th 2004 - 08:33:45 PM

The Beer and Baritone:

Mistral continued to languidly move his hand along the flap of Cindie’s handbag in a manner which she found distracting. She pulled her gaze away long enough to look at his eyes and found them smiling at her. As she watched him the smile traveled to his lips. “For a man who’s convinced he’s going to be hauled off by the filth for murder you’re looking quite smug.” His smile retreated and she regretted her words.

“I shan’t try to excuse anything. I am acutely aware that I buried my mother this morning and further that my future liberty is in peril, but the fact remains—“ Here he paused and, abandoning the small purse, picked up one of Cindie’s hands and held it in his, “You know the worst of me and you’re still here.” He had grown serious but the corners of his mouth pulled up as if spite of this, “And no matter what else happens that bodes well for me.” He squeezed her hand.

Cindie found herself quite speechless. He released her hand and took a sip of his drink. She focused on the handbag lying on the table. Her breath came heavy. When she was able to meet his gaze again there was a new understanding that took what remaining breath she had.

Cindie
- Tuesday, March 9th 2004 - 08:00:50 PM

I suggest we not get into the whole Python discussion, lol. The movie which you speak of is Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Just bear in mind that Grail is only one of their numerous achievements, legends, and ideals. :) Also, just as a word, I do not think it wise for Harry Potter to overlap onto Python territory- it would not do.
She Who Speaks Python Wisdom
- Tuesday, March 9th 2004 - 07:40:30 PM

‘Chasing Darkness Away’ is now complete!

I have found it a lot darker and more introspective than ‘Snape In Love’, and far more rewarding to write. Getting inside Snape’s head has been a fascinating experience and I have tried to develop his character in a believable way. I do hope you have enjoyed it. Heartfelt thanks to everybody who has taken the time to review; it has been most encouraging and enriching too, since I can now call many of you friends.

And so without any further ado here is a taste of Chapter 27, in which Ella struggles to come to terms with Snape’s confession, and he anxiously awaits her return.

“He watched as she stepped inside and closed the door behind her. The shaft of moonlight made her insubstantial as a wraith, and bleached her of all colour. She could almost be an old sepia photograph, he mused, and it was quite apt for soon all he would have left of her would be old and fading memories.

“Have you made a decision?” Will you leave me again?

His voice, once he had found it, was hollow and the words echoed around the room and inside his head and he wanted to scream so that he could drown out her answer. He could not ascertain her mood because the tension in the air was coiled so tightly around him that he was almost suffocating in it.”

I have just posted this final chapter on the following sites;

www.fanfiction.net/~rickfan37

http://adultfan.nexcess.net/aff/authors.php?no=4458

http://sycophanthex.lordandladysnape.com/viewuser.php?uid=25

http://www.astronomytower.org/authorLinks/Rickfan37/

From now on my work can also be found on Shags Erotica, here; and will be archived on my Yahoo group.

Phew! ;-))

Please read and review!
Rickfan37
UK - Tuesday, March 9th 2004 - 05:41:51 PM

A Truly Eventful Year

Liza Rosette, by the way I'm glad you like my story Lee. Yours is so majorly cool!
- Tuesday, March 9th 2004 - 03:21:53 PM

so exciting! I love Dobby :) And thanks im fond of it too! :)
Sophie
UK - Tuesday, March 9th 2004 - 03:19:36 PM

Ok Lee, I think I need to watch the Monty Python film again too! But if I understood it right, I get to cut off Snape's robes with scissors??? Who says I'd stop at just his robes?? (hahaha) So do we finally get to find out what has happened to McClane and why Dobby was acting so strangely?
Alison , <sevsnapesgirl2@aol.com>
- Tuesday, March 9th 2004 - 01:43:27 PM

Claire, those were the names of the girls at the castle Anthrax. With Sir Galahad the chaste, remember? You will find out McClane's fate tomorrow...
lee
- Tuesday, March 9th 2004 - 01:27:11 PM

Oh Claire, they are the names of the girls at the castle Anthrax. You had better brush up on your Monty Python. Haha.
lee
- Tuesday, March 9th 2004 - 01:11:10 PM

ok ok, I think the more we baffle about the cliffhanger the more Lee seems to be incouraged. Maybe we should use reverse pschycology. And Lee, what was the whole thing about piglet. It sounded wierd.
claire , <prague@iwon.com>
- Tuesday, March 9th 2004 - 12:55:35 PM

“Severus! Are you all right? Dobby said…” She said in near hysteria. Snape looked extremely puzzled as he closed the door.

“Yes I’m fine. What is the matter?” He asked in a calm voice. Gwenevere embraced him for several moments; her nerves were frazzled.

“I don’t know.” She said as she paced the floor with a vengeance. “Dobby said something had happened to you and McClane…” Snape took hold of her and slowed her motion to a slow simmer.

“Where is he now?” He asked. Gwenevere brought her fingertips to her throbbing temples and closed her eyes.

“ He’s in my quarters. He fainted.” She replied quickly. Snape became more concerned. Elves were tough and he’d never known one to faint before.

“Lets go.” Snape grabbed his robes and locked his door, and then crossed the corridor to Gwenevere’s quarters at once. They went inside and Dobby was still out cold on the floor. Snape scoffed when he saw that Gwenevere had placed a pillow under his head.

He took out his wand and resuscitated Dobby but he was so distressed the only thing he could do was to babble about going to ‘clean’ McClane’s room and seemed terrified of Snape to the point of manic lunacy. Snape placed a quietus spell on him and a spell that allowed him to rest peacefully until their return. Gwenevere turned to Snape.

“Severus do you know what he could possibility be on about?” She asked urgently. Snape turned his reluctant eyes away from the elf and met her frightened stare. He lifted her watch and noted the time. They had less than an hour before evening lecture would begin.

“No, but I plan to find out. Let’s go.” He said.

“Where are we going?” She said as she wondered why Dobby seemed to think that Severus figured prominently in this situation yet he seemed as much in the dark as she was. Nothing made sense.

“McClane’s quarters.” He replied. Gwenevere regarded him questionably.

“Where were you earlier?” She asked, trying to find some thread of understanding from which to build on. Snape narrowed his eyes as he tried to follow her train of thought.

“I was in my den.” He said quietly. Gwenevere resumed her nervous pacing.

“I have been looking everywhere for you. Have you been there long?” She asked in a tone reminiscent of courtroom barristers in white powdered wigs.

“Yes. Ever since I left you. Why?” He asked. His mind was taking him to places where he did not wish to go. He wondered why she was desperate to establish his whereabouts. Did he need an alibi?

“I checked there and you did not answer. I was frightened and worried.” She said, looking him in the eyes. Snape suddenly felt defensive.

“I was working on something important and didn’t hear you knock. You don’t think I had anything to do with that daft elf’s meltdown do you?” He retorted cynically. Gwenevere shook the thoughts from her mind and softened her demeanor towards him.

“No…of course not. I’m just so glad you are all right. Lets go and see what has gotten him so upset shall we?” She said as she embraced him tightly. Snape touched her hair in an effort to calm her trembling. They both took a last look at Dobby and left her quarters.

Snape suggested that they take a less traveled route owing to the suspicious circumstances. Gwenevere agreed. They quickly ascended steps, peeked round corners, and sprinted down corridors on their way to McClane’s floor. Gwenevere’s heart pounded out of sheer excitement as she closely followed Snape’s extended strides and flapping robes.

Finally they were at McClane’s door and Snape unlocked it with a spell. They entered quickly and locked the door behind them.
lee
Yes Sophie, (l just love that name!) something very weird is going on here. Claire—imagine Snape wondering into the castle Anthrax with Zoot, Dingo, Midget, Creeper and Piglet! Alison is waiting there too. She has scissors to cut his robes off. MWM—The castle Aaarrrggghhh? Look, if he were dying he wouldn’t bother to carve “aaauuuugghhhh! He’d just say it…, - Tuesday, March 9th 2004 - 10:19:08 AM

Excuse me, but if anyone does any Python references, that'd be me. :-D

And it's Ni, not Ne.
The World's Biggest Python Fan- No Arguing
- Monday, March 8th 2004 - 11:00:17 PM

Lee - take my shrubberies - every one - just let us off the hook!! Kidding - this is great fun.
MWM , <The Castle Aaarrrggghhh>
State of suspense, - Monday, March 8th 2004 - 10:49:17 PM

"I don’t see a thing!" Diane, a woman with a strong attitude that was either black or white, was quite fed up with the situation on a whole. In the past 24 hours she’d been bumped around, crashed in a plane, thrown onto a tube into the ocean, and almost attacked by a shark. And let’s not mention the people she was with! One can find their position slightly alarming when there was Ian, a British boss with an ironic sense of humor, a tall man in black (known to us as Jamie) who happened to be carrying a gun, a pilot who read blank maps, an instructor (also British) called Nigel Spasm who claimed himself to be a somewhat-authority on the Rutland Isles, and now a Paranoid freak in a wetsuit with a shark fin attached. What next?!?

She sipped her Dr. Pepper delicately as a wave threatened to wet her already-soaking feet. She glared at it, just daring the ocean to force her to release the anger and irritation that had been bricked inside. No one was telling her a thing, and when they did, it sounded like something out of a science fiction novel. For example, the swimmer, their "escort" (she thought with an edge) had just declared they they’d reached at long-last their destination, but not a thing was in sight but endless blue. She assumed that they were being led by a madman, but a tiny voice in the back of her head questioned where this lunatic had come from in the first place. Oh, this must be a dream… a long, stressful dream…

"No, it’s there," Nigel replied to the silence, not taking his eyes off his own map. "We’ll be on shore in less than a minute."

Ian and Diane exchanged glances but said nothing. She then turned to Jamie to read his expressions (as she was very good at doing), except that he had none. He seemed perfectly calm, if not enjoying this little floating cruise, with hands resting behind his head and occasionally fluffy that lovely honey hair. She despised him for acting so serene, so normal. How could someone stand this nonsense? How could they pretend that this was like some video game, or a holiday that people set off for all the time? It was infuriating, this subtle denial, and flames burst from her eyes as they at last found Jamie’s. They interlocked, but only for a moment, for he yawned and stared at the sky.

And like a baited tiger released from its captive cage, Diane sprung forth, a burst of energy flaring as her voice raised to a beyond perturbed level, "This is ridiculous, sheer stupidity! We’re chasing something that does not exist! How can you all imagine to believe there’s something right in front of us when we can all perfectly see-"

KLUNK.

The sounds of gasping and awe filled the air as the tubes hit sand. In the blink of an eye a tropical isle of lush emeralds appeared about them, popping out of an invisible mist. Nigel was the only one who didn’t seem too impressed with the ordeal, while Diane, on the other hand, was gaping like a fish on a hook. Jamie was rubbing his eyes and Ian was pinching himself. Well of course a body of land suddenly deciding to appear would be striking! How often does this happen? Well, we won’t go into statistics…

"But but, but… but!" Diane stuttered hopelessly, limp arms dangling at her sides. The Dr. Pepper can fell, its remnants spilling on the sand and immediately being sucked into the dry, thirsty ground.

"Stop gawking and help me pull the luggage in," Nigel ordered, giving a stretch and taking a swing from his water bottle. He stuck it in his fanny pack, and then set to pulling in the enormous floating box that had miraculously stayed about five inches about the surface.

The swimmer was flopped on the sand, panting, eyes darting about him in rapid circles. "I agree, I’d hurry if I was you."
Diane, who is happy because the sun actually SHONE today!!! , <Webmistress_Diane@eric-idle.com>
- Monday, March 8th 2004 - 10:46:38 PM

Is this torture going to be never-ending Lee? If so, I'd rather it was Severus inflicting it (hehe!)I have the chicken soup and TLC ready....just in case!
Alison , <sevsnapesgirl2@aol.com>
- Monday, March 8th 2004 - 12:14:29 PM

Ok Lee, you said that you were writing all weekend, where is the rest of todays story? You can't leave us with another cliffhanger, the surgeon general says its not good for our nerves. NEE NEEE, oh the torture I will cause you
claire , <prague@iwon.com>
- Monday, March 8th 2004 - 10:47:27 AM

Aww, something weird is going on! *pondering*
Sophie
UK - Monday, March 8th 2004 - 10:40:37 AM

Gwenevere knelt down beside Dobby and roused him to semi-consciousness. Temporarily.

“Dobby! Are you all right? Where is Professor Snape?” Gwenevere asked impatiently. Dobby blinked huge pitiful fear-stricken eyes at her and slowly shook his head.

“I don’t know, but I think he’s been to see Professor McClane in his room.” He said as if suddenly remembering something horrible.

“Professor McClane? How do you know this Dobby?” she said, shaking his shoulders gently. She was desperate for answers. Dobby stared at her as the color drained from his face once more.

“Because…” Gwenevere broke his fall as he landed the floor again with a soft thud.

“Dobby! Don’t do this, I need to know!” she said, shaking him.

She sighed and stood for a moment to collect her thoughts and then dashed to the door grabbing her robes on the way out. She stopped at Snape’s door and knocked frantically but no answer came.

She swept down to the dungeons and his classes were empty and his office was locked. She lurked the corridors near to the dungeons for several moments when she spotted some Slytherin sixth years walking slowly down a corridor she had never been on before. She followed them on the chance that they might be on their way to Slytherin house. She soon found herself in the darkness of the Slytherin common room amongst puzzled stares from various overgrown teenagers draped over black leather chairs like lazy cougars on tree branches after a huge meal.

“Excuse me please, is Professor Snape here by any chance? It’s urgent.” She said, meeting their stares with one of her own. Smug smiles slowly stretched on several faces as mocking glances ricocheted about the room.

“Who wants to know?” said the oldest boy who was sprawled on the sofa with a pretty blonde girl who looked about sixteen or seventeen years old. Smirks and snickers followed as the boy made a point of rudely looking Gwenevere up and down. His girlfriend smacked him for it.

“Someone who can make life, as you know it, an unrecognizable seething hell pit if you don’t answer me now.” Gwenevere said through gritted teeth. One of the other boys suddenly recognized her as being Professor Collins. He remembered seeing her talking with Snape in the great hall on one occasion.

“You’d better tell her, she hangs with Snape.” He said, shooting a worried look to the boy on the sofa. He jumped up quickly, almost knocking the blonde girl to the floor.

“No, he hasn’t been here all day. Er…Professor.” He said as politely as possible. Gwenevere glared at him once more.

“Thank you for your help. I’m sure that if you see him in the near future, you will tell him that I was looking for him won’t you?” She said crisply.

“Yes ma’am!” He stuttered slightly and looked at his shoes.

Good day.” She said curtly and turned to leave.

Gwenevere fought the waves of Panic that swelled within her as she wracked her brain to think of where he might be. She checked the great hall next and saw only a sprinkling of occupants—none of them was Severus.

She was at a loss and slowly returned to the second floor to think. She had no idea the location of McClane’s quarters or his classroom and if she asked someone it would surly draw unwanted questions.

While deeply in thought, she instinctively stopped at Snape’s door again and to her amazement he was there and opened it just as she tried the doorknob. She burst in...
lee
- Monday, March 8th 2004 - 10:06:13 AM

Claire, don’t you think I deserve a “Queen of Cliffhangers” plaque now? Haha. You can be the knights who say ‘nee’ and I will be Roger the shubber okay? My all-time fave flick! Pam, I so glad you continue to enjoy the story. I’ll bet your home is nice and clean too! MWM, It is special for me to know that you look forward to the stories and I hope things calm down for you soon. Alison…chicken soup? A Bandage perhaps? Some T.L.C.? hehe. Trust me Sophie, trust me. Haha. ACC what? Liza, thanks! I am enjoying yours immensely! Keep up the good work! And…Black wolf, you are welcome and welcome! I love your little fish tale, haha and I let my daughter read it as well. She loved it too…hmmm maybe you have a talent for children’s books with your great imagination and whimsical style. I hear that Alan is an excellent snooker player and that we may see him shoot a bit of 8-ball in StLM…I hope so! (If Kevin C. doesn’t do the editing that is…)
Thank you ALL for the lovely posts—kept me writing all weekend!
lee
- Monday, March 8th 2004 - 09:50:24 AM

Wales, the Cwrw ac Isalaw:

Mary Anne strolls over to the snooker table where Brandon, deserted by all his erstwhile victims, lines up a shot. There is a quiet crack and a series of thumps as the balls connect and roll to their new locations, and Mary Anne chooses this moment to perch one hip on the table. “You, mister, are a rare sneak.”

Brandon pauses to chalk his cue. “What is so sneaky? I never claimed that I didn’t know how to play.”

“Well, you’ve certainly kept it a secret.”

Brandon shrugs. “No one asked me, and there’s little opportunity back at the set.”

“Probably a good thing; you’d bankrupt the lot of us. Who taught you?”

“My Da. He was . . .” Brandon leans over the table, shoots, and grins as the balls thud home. “ . . . really, really good.”

“I should say he was!” Mary Anne slides off the table. “Can you teach me? Just a little?”

“Of course, my dearest.”

Mary Anne had expected that Brandon would fetch another cue stick for her, but instead he moves to stand behind her, passing his own stick into her hands and leaning over her to adjust her grip and position her at the table.

Mary Anne gulps. The warmth of him, pressed firmly against her from her shoulder blades to the bend of her knees . . .

“Now, not too firm and not too loose, Mary Anne. Here . . .”

Repositioning her hands. Humming a little under his breath along with the raucous singing at the main table.

“Now.” Brandon speaking directly into her left ear. “Let me show you—-there is no need to smack with it as if it were a battering ram. I’ve seen balls go flying off the table. Simply draw back . . .” His hands move her hands. “ . . . firm but smooth, and shoot . . .”

The stick slides magically through her fingers.

“Now, try it on your own.”

Mary Anne leans over the table, holds her breath, and shoots—a decent enough bank shot that nudges the balls about, though none of them move very far from their original positions. Maybe too gentle, that time. Oh, well, the right touch with it will come later, I suppose . . .

“Excellent!”

Simultaneously, Brandon turns to snuzzle her ear and give her a little pat of approval right on the seat of her jeans, and Mary Anne stiffens in astonishment. At that moment, there is a lull at the main table and some calls for “Brandon!” “You sing as fine as you shoot?” and other good-humoured catcalls urging a rematch.

Brandon shakes his head but cannot shake loose his grin. “Ah, my public. Will you excuse me, my dearest?”

“Yes, of course,” stammers Mary Anne as Brandon saunters over to the Table of Tunes.

“Did I just see what I thought I saw?”

Mary Anne jumps a little. She hadn’t noticed Therese coming up behind her.

“If what you think you saw,” she manages, “was Christopher giving me a pat on the rump . . .”

“That’s what I thought I saw, all right. How many has he had?”

“Now wait just a minute--!”

Therese holds up a placating hand. “I didn’t mean anything by that, Mary Anne, except that Christopher isn’t usually a booty-grabber . . .”

Mary Anne’s would-have-been indignation goes off in a splutter of laughter. “Yeah, that would be more Ed’s department.”

“Right, and Ed doesn’t need to be drinking to do that!” Therese waves an arm toward the bar. “Had anything yet?”

Mary Anne follows Therese. “No, and I’m sticking to lime and soda. It’s been a pretty emotional day, don’t you think? Any alcohol in me and all my goods will be in the shop window for certain.”

“That seems to be what Mistral is thinking, too.”

Following the direction of Therese’s gaze, Mary Anne can see Cindie and Mistral in a quiet—-what passes for quiet, in this place—-corner, talking together. At one point Cindie sets her handbag firmly on the table and gestures at it, though what she might intend, Mary Anne cannot tell, and there is certainly no way to overhear their conversation.

“Just like him.” Mary Anne sips at her lime and soda. “The guys bring him here to get him drunk, and they’re the ones who wind up getting—“

Another lull at the song table, and Mary Anne and Therese exchange glances as Bryn and Dev link arms.

Oh Danny Boy, the pipes, the pipes are callin’ . . .

“Uh-oh,” says Therese.

Mary Anne sets down her glass and covers her eyes. “I don’t think I can watch!”

“If Eamon goes for that high note, you might think about covering your ears instead . . .”

MA--the "booty-grabber" remark came up in chat this week: credit to whoever it was that said it! 8-D
Have the medic standing by for Dev . . . - Sunday, March 7th 2004 - 03:48:49 PM

A Truly Eventful Year

Oh well, thought John as he stacked up a pile of text books. He had made an impression on nearly everyone in the whole school. What did the mysterious art teacher matter now that he'd got the best teaching post so far?
Liza Rosette
- Sunday, March 7th 2004 - 08:42:07 AM

A Truly Eventful Year

I'll carry on with this later, but just to say Black Wolf, your Joe the Fish is very funny. Keep up his sarcasm, it's cool!
Liza Rosette
- Sunday, March 7th 2004 - 06:41:37 AM

A Fan Alyssa stared at the fish tank, her eyes almost popping out of their sockets. Joe was unmistakably smiling now, and somehow – bigger. A lot bigger. In fact, he was now at least five times the size of what he had been fifteen minutes ago.

“I’m holdin’ out for a hero, ‘Till the end of the night – He’s gotta be strong, He’s gotta be fast, And he’s gotta be fresh from the fight.”

Joe stopped singing and folded his fins triumphantly, having gained his owner’s attention.

“J-Joe?” stammered Alyssa. She moved shakily towards the tank, lips quivering with a million and one questions. Joe just floated there, grinning insanely, his fishy eyes now full of character.

“I love Bonnie Tyler,” he said abruptly, poking his head over the edge of the tank. Alyssa clapped a hand over her heart and fell into a chair, breath deeply and looking as though she was trying not to have a heart attack. Joe just watched, his head cocked to one side like an inquisitive dog.

Finally, Alyssa began to talk. She stuttered the first question that was wrapped around her tongue. “H-h-how?”

“It’s – well, a bit of a long story,” sighed Joe, propping his chin on one of his fins. “I’ll tell you later. Hey, do have any chocolate mousse?”

“Chocolate – chocolate mousse?” queried Alyssa, getting more confused by the second. Joe just looked at her. “Yes. Chocolate mousse. And I thought humans were smart,” said Joe scornfully, sinking below the water line again. Alyssa, angered slightly by the fish’s attitude, marched to the fridge and reached in. She pulled a purple pot out, closed the door and walked back over to the tank.

“What do want me to do with it?” asked Alyssa, peering through the water. Joe rolled his eyes and surfaced again.

“Good God, girl! Your brain is still smaller than I envisaged,” snapped Joe, grabbing the pot out of Alyssa’s hand.

He had rubbed Alyssa up the wrong way. Puffing out her chest, she looked Joe in the eye. “I have a name you know. It’s Alyssa. And you could at least be grateful – I bought you from that fish shop.”

Joe considered the tall human before him: the frizzy red mane framing the fierce face. “OK, OK,” he surrendered, holding up his fins in protest. Then, as Alyssa watched, he peeled the lid off the chocolate mousse and gulped it down in two, wet swallows.

“Mmm,” mumbled Joe softly. “Chocolate mousse. My favourite.”

He threw the pot across the room, aiming for the bin –

CRASH! “JOE!” shrieked Alyssa, rushing over to where a shattered mug lay in ruins on the floor. She swept up the shards of porcelain and tipped them carefully into the bin. Wiping a hand across her forehead exasperatedly, she returned to her seat.

“But you’re a fish,” she continued, studying Joe hard. “Oh, well done!” commented the fish sarcastically, clapping his fins together. Alyssa gave him one of her ‘looks’ – a scary, emerald-green glare that shot you in the eye and forced you to look away. Joe realized his mistake and reddened.

Alyssa, puzzled as to how a fish could go red, sighed deeply. “You’d better watch out, mate,” she said wearily, “or you might end up as sushi.”

For the first time, Joe looked ever so slightly scared. He gave her a mock-salute before diving back into his tank and hiding in amongst the plastic weeds.

Alyssa shook her head. A fish who, apparently, was a large fan of Bonnie Tyler, snacked on chocolate mousse and talked - what had she taken on?

Black Wolf
How rude of me! I am so sorry, guys – I didn’t thank you for the welcomes. So, to Magda, Cindie, Lee, and anyone else who uttered (or typed) the word “Welcome” – THANKS!, - Sunday, March 7th 2004 - 03:01:58 AM

A Truly Eventful Year

"M-Mrs Deegan," gasped Caroline, quite paralysed by John's voice. He smiled and then strode out of the gym, leaving Caroline quite speechless. For a moment she stood rooted to the spot alone, until she suddenly remembered her form. She rushed out of the gym to the Art Room.
Liza R Rickmaniac (hehehehe)
- Saturday, March 6th 2004 - 01:02:17 PM

Hey I'm going to be annoying and say Lee your story is utterly amazing so please don't leave us in suspense!!!!!
Liza Rosette
- Saturday, March 6th 2004 - 11:49:46 AM

‘Kay ev’ry-one, here is my first installment of my story – please note, this is a light-hearted narrative, not anything too serious like a romantic tale like some of your brilliant stories are. I could never write like that – and anyway, I’m writing about an ANIMATED FISH! Ah heck. Just enjoy it. Something Fishy’s Going On… MINI PROLOGUE: Alyssa Marie Jones was an average twenty-three year old. Long, fiery red hair and green eyes made her formidable-looking, as did the violet nail varnish on the talons growing from her fingers. Well, all right then – Alyssa was a little more than average. Being almost six foot made life a little hard for Alyssa; a common misconception among her relatives was that Alyssa was frosty, cold, and heartless – but this was not the case. Alyssa was just a little – lonely. “Lonely” was the exact reason why Alyssa was now strolling down the road towards “The Sushi Store” – which was, in fact, a shop that specialized in selling fish. Live ones, I might add. THE MOST PECULIAR FISH Half an hour later, Alyssa was stepping carefully over the pavement with a plastic bag clutched in her hands. In the bag was a large amount of water; and swimming round and round the water was a little purple-and-black fish. Alyssa had seen the little fish all on its own in a small murky tank, and had felt an odd little pang of compassion for it. Silly, really – getting worked up over a fish. But still… Another extraordinary thing about this diminutive fish was its lips. Thick and black, seemingly arranged into a smirk. And this smirk had, oddly enough, widened when Alyssa had selected that particular fish. Over four hours later, and Alyssa was still pondering what to call her new pet. She sat watched him – for she was sure it was male – exploring the roomy tank, his eyes roving over Alyssa and his new home with its plastic castle and fake weeds. Then, as Alyssa watched, the fish swam languidly up to the side of the glass, opened its mouth – and breathed on the glass. Alyssa almost fainted as the fish raised a front fin, and traced three letters – J-O-E. Joe. Alyssa stared at the fish, who now seemed to be grinning cheekily, despite the fact that he had no teeth. For the first time, Alyssa began – for no sensible reason - to speak to her new pet. “Joe, eh? Mmm…suits you,” murmured Alyssa. The newly christened fish closed one eye briefly, in a very swift wink. And Alyssa winked back. Then her common sense came rushing back and she pinched herself hard to see if she was dreaming. But no – the name “Joe” was still imprinted on the side of the glass tank, and the fish was still apparently smiling at her. Alyssa shook her head, rising from the stool and heading towards the fridge. Joe swam to the surface of his tank, flexing his fins in slight frustration. HUMANS! He thought. No imagination. Forever in denial. This girl couldn’t recognize his superior ability… Well, if she couldn’t do it on her own, then he would have to help her. He would just have to wait for the perfect moment… Alyssa, sitting down to lunch, flicked her stereo on. Loud, blaring tones burst out across the kitchen, making Alyssa jump. She pounced on the volume button – it was on full blast. Yet – she was sure that last time she’d touched the stereo the volume had been low… Turning the music down to a bearable level, Alyssa began to sing. “Where have all the good men gone? Where indeed, mused Alyssa, munching a peanut butter sandwich. “Isn’t there a white knight upon a fiery steed? Last at night, I toss and I turn, And I dream of what I need - ” “I NEED A HERO!” came a loud, booming voice from across the kitchen. Alyssa screamed and spun round. The sandwiches tumbled to the floor.
Black Wolf - Homage to Bonnie Tyler and "Holding Out For A Hero"
- Saturday, March 6th 2004 - 09:03:03 AM

A Truly Eventful Year

Then she noticed that Mrs Deegan was sitting on the chair next to him, staring at him in a strange way. It seemed as if she already hated him. There would be fireworks this term then.
Liza R
- Saturday, March 6th 2004 - 07:46:12 AM

Sorry I've been off for so long. I had trouble for some time getting onto the site but I'll have chapter three soon!
Liza Rosette
- Saturday, March 6th 2004 - 06:25:08 AM

Claire and Lee - If I am a screaming madwoman just like the rest of you, then I consider myself in most excellent company. :D My life is very hectic and I find myself looking forward to this bit of rest and fantasy.
MWM , <Relax and enjoy>
It's much more fun than holding your breath., SD, - Friday, March 5th 2004 - 10:55:58 PM

Sorry, will just repeat over and over-"ignore the buggers" "ignore the buggers" ignore...
ACC
- Friday, March 5th 2004 - 09:05:56 PM

Lee,argggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...and to those waiting for the guestbooks to self destruct, by all means, hold your breath...
ACC
- Friday, March 5th 2004 - 09:04:09 PM

Oh Lee- that was truly evil. :D
Laura
hoping the weekend FLIES by! - Friday, March 5th 2004 - 03:08:38 PM

Nooo! Oh i hope he's okay! Soooo cruel :P
Sophie
UK - Friday, March 5th 2004 - 12:48:48 PM

See Lee, you took a perfectly calm follower and with your wickedness have turned her into a screaming mad woman like the rest of us. Soon we will all be running around with buckets on our heads saying neap. Still love you and your story, just having a little fun today.
claire , <prague@iwon.com>
- Friday, March 5th 2004 - 12:32:59 PM

NOOOOOO Lee, no way, can't you see that Claire and I are at breaking point? I take back anything I ever said about wanting cliffhangers!!!!!!! What have you done to Sev?? It had better not be anything too serious, poor thing. I will spend the whole weekend thinking of ways to make him better just in case (haha!!) No, seriously, great chapter, and I will be back for my fix on Monday - I think I'll need it! Have a great weekend everyone!
Alison
- Friday, March 5th 2004 - 11:18:47 AM

Aaaaaarrrggghhh!!
MWM
SD, - Friday, March 5th 2004 - 11:08:34 AM

Believe you me, the Wenches are alive and kicking and watching with bated breath while you all self destruct.
Wench~1
- Friday, March 5th 2004 - 10:11:35 AM

Hi Lee, I am so glad I took a quick break from my "spring cleaning" to read the latest update on Gwen and Snape. It just gets better all the time. I wonder if the cliffhanger you left us with will involve McClane perchance? I cna't wait to read more. Good Job Lee. To all the others on FOF, your stories are fantastic and I always look forward to reading them when I get a few minutes now and then. Have a good weekend everyone. Pam
Pam
Massachusetts, USA - Friday, March 5th 2004 - 10:06:21 AM

Lee, I am screaming at the top of my lungs, why on a friday would you leave a hanger like that one. Allison, do you believe the torture that Lee sets upon us on a daily basis, but yet we keep coming back wanting more. Oh well, maybe she will give us pity and put another one this afternoon.(ya right)Have a good weekend all.
claire , <prague@iwon.com>
- Friday, March 5th 2004 - 09:48:21 AM

Gwenevere’s heart pounded in her ears and she had the sensation not unlike her life passing before her eyes as Snape regarded her with unyielding rigidity. Her voice trembled as she carefully picked around her words like thorns of a rose bush.

“Severus, I said that I was sorry and I truly am. Don’t you think that you are over reacting just a bit?” Snape glared at her with grim pity before speaking.

“No. I think punishment is in order…” He said in low silky tones. He looked into her glistening china blue eyes and lent in to kiss her tenderly. Gwenevere kissed him and then pulled back to see a hint at a Cheshire cat grin. Almost. She hit his shoulders with her hands and abruptly stood up.

“Ouch!” She exclaimed, grabbing her sore wrist. Snape looked at her in disbelief for she having been the one to say 'ouch' He rubbed his chest incredulously and was glad for his thick black coat. “Severus! How could you worry me like that?” She said, rubbing her wrist and stamping her foot. Snape chuckled. Almost.

“Me? You worried yourself and I’ll have you know that you are a terrible liar!” He added. He was quite pleased to know that she could not bring herself to deceive him although she surely had the ability if she chose to use it. He stood and kissed her again and she melted into his arms.

“By its very nature, isn’t punishment supposed to be…unpleasant?” she purred between kisses.

“Unless it were a bloody murderer, I never give condign punishment.” He replied, paraphrasing Shakespeare. Gwenevere smiled and pulled him down to the sofa again.

“Oh I see…however, I think I deserve a bit more punishment don’t you?” She said before engaging him in another lingering kiss, which caused him to forget about his recent injuries.

“Well if you insist…” He said as he kissed her collarbones, letting his practiced hands indulge in cashmere temptations.

He punished her until the last minute—until it was time to meet with an appointment he’d planned to keep through hell or high water, or the wiles of a gorgeous gregarious goddess that he could have his way with…to a point.

Gwenevere smiled as she walked to her office and closed the potions books on her desk. She’d had enough intensity for one day and decided to relax before lecture tonight. She looked at her mail basket and grabbed her letter opener with a sigh, not knowing where to start exactly.

She read the newest letter from her Grandmother first and was happy that all was well and life on the farm hadn’t changed a bit. Her mood saddened when she considered the need to visit her Grandmother soon and prepare her for the worst should anything happen to she and Severus.

The stubborn blue letter caught her eye once more and she picked it up, examining it carefully. It was mailed in expensive Crown Mill of Belgium vellum. The envelope was sky blue that no doubt matched the expensive stationary inside. The penmanship was that of an artist calligrapher and the faint scent reminded her of Fritz Voltaire.

Memories of early morning meetings when his scent filled her office suite and late hours of close contact with him at Gringotts flooded her mind. Gwenevere knew that Fritz had fallen in love with her and he’d made it known on a daily basis as they worked together for over a year. It would not have been fair to either of them to start a relationship based on his attraction to her alone, and she was not about to compromise her life with a loveless marriage of convenience just for the sake of being married to someone.

She rummaged through her desk drawer and found another letter opener at the back and then slowly opened the expensive buttery handmade vellum. She gently tugged at the subtly deckled edge, reveling a long letter penned in Fritz ’s own artistic handwriting. She read the letter and felt an uneasy shudder go up her spine as she thought of Sir Kevin the snakeless, and his obsession with Juliet and her lover…the reason this whole bloody curse ever began. She put the letter down and tried to organize her swirling thoughts when a panicked pounding sounded at her door. She leaped up and answered it. It was Dobby.

“Doctor Collins! Come quick! I think you need to see what I have seen. It's real bad…Professor Snape…” He said just before his eyes rolled up into his head and he fainted.
lee
Claire, but it’s just one day…oops another one. You are right Sophie, Snape can punish me anytime haha. Alison, just one more I promise. (I have my fingers crossed though.), - Friday, March 5th 2004 - 09:20:49 AM

Yes, but the way that fish mate is no fun at all...I am sure that you will be creative though.
Charlie Tuna and the Chicken of the Sea mermaid...
- Thursday, March 4th 2004 - 02:50:13 PM

Righty-ho! Joe is now MINE! And now to create a FRIEND for him...
Black Wolf
England - Thursday, March 4th 2004 - 12:54:09 PM

Lee, please no more cliffhangers! Claire is right about them. I can't stand the suspense!!!!
Alison
- Thursday, March 4th 2004 - 12:13:34 PM

I can't help it, it's so exciting! *ahem* anyway, lovely episode, i can't wait for this cliff hanger ;) i hope severus is okay with Gwyn for concealing it! I'm sure he forgives her :P
Sophie
UK - Thursday, March 4th 2004 - 10:29:40 AM

Lee, how could you leave it like that. I'm going to wonder all day what is going to happen.
claire , <prague@iwon.com>
- Thursday, March 4th 2004 - 09:49:30 AM

Gwenevere pulled away from him and started towards the tea tray.

“Er…the tea is getting cold and we’d better pour it before it gets too strong… or …something…” she said nervously.

Snape stopped her retreat by reaching for her left hand. “Gwenevere, what are you hiding?” He asked quietly out of sudden concern.

“Ouch!” She winced absently. Snape let go of her hand immediately and moved closer to her. He slowly lifted her wrist and carefully exposed her burses. Closing her eyes, she did not resist him and was secretly relieved that her attempt at deception was over. Snape felt sickened with rage inside but fought to control it for the sake of gaining information.

“What’s this? How did this happen?” He demanded.

“ Severus…I don’t wish to discus it just now, I have taken care of the situation and I don’t expect another problem in the future so if you will kindly drop it…” She said as she took her hand away.

“No I won’t kindly drop it! Either tell me who did this to you and why or I will go and find out myself.” He said. His words were delivered in measured command through gritted teeth, fury flared in his eyes. Anyone laying a hand on her would pay dearly.

“Very well. I see that trying to keep this from you is futile, and I cannot lie to you so out with it then. McClane did it.” She said, looking him in the eyes at last. She told him what had happened in the owlry and assured him that she was not badly hurt. “ I do not want to involve the Headmaster and as for McClane; he got more than he bargained for so I doubt that he will be a problem in the future.” She said, hoping he would abide by her wishes and consider the matter closed.

“I see.” He said stiffly. Gwenevere regarded his sudden distance and feared the worst.

“What do you plan to do about it Severus?” she inquired coolly.

“Your right. Lets have tea before it gets cold.” He said, as a strange maniacal calm became him. A clammy shudder crept over her, a precursor for impending disaster. She had never seen such a look on his face before and it frightened her.

“Severus…please…” she implored him to reconsider.

“Not to worry Gwenevere. Shall we?” He offered with a sinister smile and then he moved to pour out the tea for them. He was now the evasive one and Gwenevere disliked her well-deserved retribution. Turnabout is fair play… she thought.

They sipped tea in silence; Snape’s mind was intensely preoccupied. His thoughts were raging from deeply within his brain and fierce emotions, obviously triggered by harm to his beloved, were fighting to be acknowledged and reckoned. Gwenevere regretted having tried to hide the truth from him and struggled to find a way to repair the damage. She looked at him woefully from time to time and he simply returned her gaze with fiery eyes. She'd had no idea how deep his loathing for McClane went. Finally she could bear it no longer.

“Severus, I was wrong to try and conceal the truth from you no matter what the reason. I should have known better and it won’t ever happen again I promise you. Will you please forgive me? I cannot stand this tension between us. I hate it.” She said.

He considered her and set his teacup down. She moved closer to him and rested her head on his chest. His heartbeat was strong and steady.

“This is McClane’s fault and he will answer to me, I assure you. And as for you…” He hissed hatefully. Gwenevere looked up at him, startled by his cold unreachable tone. Snape smiled arrogantly.
lee
Thanks Alison, I missed posting too but DoC Claudia came to the rescue! Snape can be very scary at times…Hang on Sophie!!! Yes Claire, it will be brutal I assure you. MWM, Thanks for that I aim to torture. Now let me think of a nice HUGE cliffhanger for tomorrow…lol., - Thursday, March 4th 2004 - 09:29:38 AM

Ian rest at his desk, elbows propped on the table, face hidden by cupped hands. He breathed deeply as the mixed feelings of anger, hate, and mourn boiled in his blood. A single index finger curled around and around a lock of hair as he tried to think calmly, but he found he simply could not. This was not possible, not when there were senses and secrets of failure and crucified hope that had been chained away these many years.

Everything he had come to know and love was floating away from him, sinking in the river of despair. He really had no money- his ex-wife saw certainty to that, as well as owning his Victorian home. He had no friends- men of business rarely do, for friends and partnerships are dangerous in their game. Known others were strictly to be kept to the title "acquaintance." He had no love- the ex-wife mentioned previously was a being he detested, and since the divorce he had practically nothing to claim (which is usually typical for a single, middle-aged man). And now, above all, he was losing the only thing left in the world that meant something to him- his work. If he saw any reasonable, realistic way of keeping The Gate, he would. But it was just not done.

He replayed the idea of a full-out new hiring repeatedly like a broken record. Maybe, maybe not. No, yes, yes, no. Perhaps, not doable, probable, irrational. Stupidity, wise, brilliant, remorseful. Ian rummaged through files, taking notes on a clipboard as he ping-ponged the idea to and fro. If only there was more time, less pressure… How very impeccable and suitable devastating events picked their dates…

Ian finally leaned against a wall and swore. He swore loud and filthy comments, every single obscene word that crossed his mind. Most of it was directed towards Susan and her ‘gaggle’, others to himself. When he was all out of words, he continued to stand, quivering. And he listened. He listened to the clicks of keyboards that no longer typed, the hums of computers that no longer beeped, the scratch of pencils that no longer wrote, and the echoes of telephones that no longer rang. Ian listened intently to each and every one of these things, dwelling on them, dwelling on the sounds of silence.

Ian slid on his jacket of navy, facing away from his table that had become a monster of death. He straightened the collar and exited his office, staring at Miranda with a blank expression as she painted her nails. She opened her mouth to speak, the words "What do you want me to do?" on the tip of her tongue. He quickly gestured a hand to stop her and answered back to the ESP-sent message, "Nothing. Go home early." He told the same to the two stranded office workers sipping cups of coffee, having nothing better to do. All looked at him like he was crazy, but gathered their belongings nonetheless.

Ian waited for the rest of the people to leave until their tiny building was deserted. The people who still remained with The Gate were nothing people… computer servicemen, publishing printers… They did their job, and they did it well, but they were not the creme of the crop.

As Ian exited the door to take his own leave, he was met by a hurdle of pelting rain, and within the minute was soaked. He gazed to the heavens as the water streamed down his face, and he just stood there, in wonder. The rain, to him, was temporarily washing away the pain of the day, the famous song The sun will come out, tomorrow… playing in his head. Tomorrow was, he told himself, a fresh day. And damn, at least that’s a start.
Diane- sorry, I forgot to mention that my post previous to this one was also a flashback. , <webmistress_diane@eric-idle.com>
- Wednesday, March 3rd 2004 - 08:06:08 PM

Lee - so glad the shots are helping, welcome back! You're killing me with this story, and I'm loving every moment. ;)
MWM
SD, - Wednesday, March 3rd 2004 - 12:46:06 PM

HOWDY Lee, nice to see you back again. I was wondering if we were going to get a long one. Oooh, he knows, what kind of torture will he bestow on little Mr. Idiot?
claire , <prague@iwon.com>
- Wednesday, March 3rd 2004 - 10:49:33 AM

yay, yay, yay! can't wait :)
Sophie
UK - Wednesday, March 3rd 2004 - 10:32:08 AM

Lee - we missed you! Can't wait to see his reaction when he finds out what really happened! Elodie had a lovely birthday, thanks. Yes, 4 is cute but also very tiring!
Alison
- Wednesday, March 3rd 2004 - 08:49:52 AM

Snape regarded Gwenevere curiously and narrowed his eyes. His calculating mind was processing odd pieces of a queer puzzle with McClane smack in the center. Gwenevere’s visible reaction to seeing the lost bracelet was contrary to what he had expected, and as a trained agent, could not dismiss it as merely coincidence.

“I found this on the floor in the owlry today.” He said, tilting his head slightly as he watched carefully her reaction.

“Oh?” it must have slipped off of my wrist earlier, it was a bit loose and…” she said, looking away from him. She was caught off guard and hadn’t planned for him to find evidence of the struggle or to answer any questions. Snape was not an adversary in her former professional life; he was her trusted ally and the most important person in her life. She loved him more than life itself and could not begin to deceive him.

“It was broken. I have repaired it for you, would you like me to help you with it?” He said in a more that helpful tone, confused yet scrutinizing her evasive body language.

“Um, no thank you. I’m not in the mood to wear it today actually.” She said, taking the bracelet into her hand and placing it in her pocket. She smiled and whispered a ‘thank you’ to him as she did so, but her eyes evaded him still. She attempted a change of subject. “I noticed your mail and wanted to save you the trip but I was reluctant to collect it without your consent.” She said as she felt his eyes upon her and loathed avoiding the truth.

“Thank you, you may collect it anytime. It will indeed save me a trip. Are you all right Gwenevere? You seem uneasy.” He asked in a calm silky voice that enveloped her in guilt like a warm thick layer of golden syrup. Smothering her.

“Yes, I’m fine Severus. Really.” She lied. She felt ill in her stomach.

And what’s the matter with that house elf of yours?” He asked, stepping a bit closer to her.

“Dobby? I don’t know, exactly, why?” She asked. She could not look at him and was starting to feel trapped within her own skin. His innocent queries were starting to sound like The Interrogator echoing in her mind.

“As I came round the corner in the corridor, he immediately turned and fled in the opposite direction for no apparent reason.” Snape said, wondering what Dobby knew and how.

“Um, well he did seem a bit preoccupied when he brought the tea moments ago, maybe er…” Gwenevere felt as though she were about to explode and prayed for an end to the questions. She longed to be in his arms and cursed McClane for coming between them this way. She could not stand the estrangement from him much longer and sought to correct it. “How were your labs today?” she asked as she slipped her arms around his waist and buried her face in his neck. He felt comforting and warm, but smelled vaguely of sulfur.

“One explosion, two melted cauldrons, one visit to Hospital wing for a minor annoyance, the usual.” Snape said as he embraced her tenderly. He was still quite perplexed over the mystery before him, but felt certain that the events were related somehow. “Did you know that McClane was back at Hogwarts?” He asked her. Gwenevere hesitated before answering.

“Yes I did.” She relented, closing her eyes tightly in a moment of dread for the inevitable.

“He apparently failed to teach his afternoon classes…I wonder why? Any idea?” He asked in an icy manner. He was quite suspicious now and was determined to uncover the whole story.
lee
Thanks Monica for the information on heel spurs, the shots are helping and I am getting orthotics soon. I’ll let you know how they work. Sophie had to wait longer; I tried to post lol. Alison, I hope your daughter had a wonderful birthday, 4 is so cute! Thank you Claire, for everything., - Wednesday, March 3rd 2004 - 08:08:02 AM

Thank you Claudia--you ARE amazing!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
lee
- Wednesday, March 3rd 2004 - 07:57:56 AM

Lee - Try posting now - I think I've fixed the problem.
Claudia
- Tuesday, March 2nd 2004 - 04:50:35 PM

Lee has asked me to tell everyone that she is having problems posting, but as soon as the problem is fixed she will be blessing us with another part of her great story.(no I'm not kissing butt :) Good thing she didn't leave us with too big of a cliffhanger.
claire , <prague@iwon.com>
- Tuesday, March 2nd 2004 - 12:33:19 PM

This is the nrext chapter for my story. The previous one is called 'Anne' (I forgot the write that in).

A Truly Eventful Year

Focus on school, she told herself. The new teacher would be there tomorrow though. Someone younger and stranger, not her friend. Then she went to bed.
Liza Rosette
- Tuesday, March 2nd 2004 - 07:52:05 AM

BTWallpaperer homage to Mr. Rogers "I like you just the way you are"
ACC , <sorry to repeat>
- Monday, March 1st 2004 - 11:29:56 PM

homage to Mr. Rogers, bless him "I like you just the way you are"
ACC , <your body's fancy and so is mine!>
- Monday, March 1st 2004 - 11:26:46 PM

ACC

Aahhhh.... tact. I keep hearing about it, but I've not stumbled on it yet. :D
Barbara the Wallpaper-er
- Monday, March 1st 2004 - 10:52:50 PM

Thanks for your advice Magda. By the way, forgive my apalling manners, thank you all for your welcome, I love this site already. I think AR is the best (especially the voice. Story coming up!

A Truly Eventful Year

Anne wondered what she was on about.
That's all I've got time for, but I've claimed John Gissing now. Bye!
Liza Rosette
- Monday, March 1st 2004 - 12:20:32 PM

Please Lee write soon, for I am sick and am going home early. I would love to dream of todays part while I try to rest off this sickness I have aquired.
claire , <prague@iwon.com>
I wasn't confused about the story, the writing style was totally different. - Monday, March 1st 2004 - 11:55:19 AM

Please Barbara the wallpaperer, tell us what you really think and stop being so shy! LOL. I was trying to get my point across in a diplomatic fashion...
ACC
- Monday, March 1st 2004 - 12:23:43 AM

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