Paedophilia, Incest, Beastiality
No news here, one should think. However, my liking of Harry-Potter-the-character as opposed to Harry-Potter-the-series is a rather new and a fairly unexpected development. Sympathy for Harry struck me all of a sudden when, on re-reading OotP for Good Snape Moments, I came to the passage where Snape throws Harry bodily out of his office. "What was making Harry feel so horrified and unhappy was not being shouted at or having jars thrown at him" triggered something in me and all of a sudden, I started perceiving Harry as the, well, unhappy, abused young man he is supposed to be. For me, this little half-sentence fleshed out the character so much better than every former (and later) description of his trials did.
This newly found sympathy for Harry is backed-up by a likewise new, vaguely frightening discovery I made. You see, being some 12 years older than my youngest brother, I've always perceived him as the little kiddie he was at the time I left home. Over the following years, he was more or less non-existent in my life. And now, merely a few weeks ago, I went to visit my parents and was shocked to meet an attractive, well-built young man, who had finally grown into his features and who is tall, and strong, and blue-eyed, and dark-haired, and fucking 15 years old!
(A few years ago I already had a similar experience when my six-years-younger brother turned into a man. I'm still faintly distrurbed every time I have the chance to see his golden-brown, defined torso when he prances around half-naked.)
I have never been interested in reading fanfiction featuring Harry and his contemporaries in a sexual context; I don't care for chan-slash, I'm not particularly fond of the ageing-them-up thing for plot purposes, and I don't believe that well-bred British kids attending an old-fashioned school like Hogwarts play wild, fancy sex games at the age of, say, 14.
Now, however: My brother is Harry's age. Which means Harry is a young man as well. Which, in turn, means that Harry is very well able to have sex, and therefore I will be able to go and read Harry slash from now on, because 15-almost-16-years-old boys are definitely no longer little kids.
Oh, and: Will I go to hell for finding my brothers sexy?
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And now for a little ficlet. Untitled, unbeta'd, unstructured.
juxiantang, if you're reading this: I know I said weeks ago I would write Padfoot/Buckbeak, and... well. This is the sad result of my efforts. Most likely, I will a) incorporate it into a longer story or b) delete it and try to forget I've ever written it.
A brief glimpse into Sirius/Buckbeak/Padfoot interaction. PG-ish:
Albus had told him to lock Buckbeak up.
"It is the only way we can keep him safe, Sirius," the old wizard had said, the light blue eyes void of any twinkling. Sirius knew he had lost.
******
"First Harry, then me, and now you." His voice sounded dry. Bitter.
The Hippogriff shifted on the bed to make space for Sirius and turned his head until his sharp beak hovered only inches from Sirius’s face. The glare from one orange-glowing eye was boring into the man's bright grey gaze.
"I am sorry, you know, but 'it is for your own safety'," he mimicked the voice of Remus. Sensible, level-headed, composed Remus. He would not have gone on the run with a stolen Hippogriff. He would not have got himself caught and locked away, in the first place.
Buckbeak pushed his face closer so that his beak brushed against a strand of Sirius's hair.
"Being on the run wasn't all bad, was it, Buckbeak?" he whispered, pressing his face into the soft feathers on the Hippogriff's neck. Buckbeak started making small content noises Sirius liked to think of as the Hippogriff's equivalent of purring deep in his throat and the man's tentative smile deepened as he flattened his palm over the animal's glossy neck, sliding all the way down to the spot where feathers changed smoothly into fur. When Sirius's fingers dipped deeply into the Hippogriff's coat, Buckbeak gave an almost human-sounding sigh. Sirius's other arm snaked underneath the animal's throat and he shifted his position on the bed until he finally came to lie beneath Buckbeak, right arm wrapped loosely around his neck, the left hand continuing to stroke his back.
Buckbeak spread his wings and flattered them lazily without the attempt to raise himself from the bed. Sirius took the hint.
"Want your armpits scratched, do you?" he breathed. He rolled on his side and pressed the entire length of his body against the Hippogriff's warm flank. "I've brought you something that will make you even happier," he added after a particularly loud guttural sound from Buckbeak.
The dead ferrets were gratefully accepted, and Sirius laughed as Buckbeak began nibbling carefully on his blood-stained fingers. "Tickles."
"You better wipe the blood off your face before you start cleaning other people," he added. "Here. You've made quite a mess all over yourself."
His hand froze only inches from the blood-covered beak. The air blurred and Buckbeak budged over to accommodate the more compact form of Padfoot. The huge black dog rolled playfully on his back, half-hidden under the Hippogriff's mighty wing. Inside the dog's body, the man's mind delighted in the warm scent, the calming, comforting beating of the Hippogriff's heart. Padfoot gave a low snort and his tongue darted out to lick across Buckbeak's beak.
Mm. Blood.
Padfoot rolled over and raised his head. Under the Hippogriff's wary eye, he brought his face on one level with the other animal's and sniffed enthusiastically, his nostrils flaring.
Buckbeak closed his eyes lazily, his neck stretched, his throat exposed, submitting to the long, wet strokes of the dog's lapping tongue.
The End
To finish this highly chaotic post on a completely different note: I decided to enhance my friends list tonight by adding a number of people whose LJs I've been checking frequently because I like:
a) their fics
b) their recs
c) their artwork
d) their opinions
e) their interests
f) them
'kay?