Happy birthday to me...
A few days ago, I solicited drabble ideas from my f-list and was astonished at the response I received. I'm still working on a drabble for aqua_eyes and for a longer ficlet for cavalaxis and scribbling_elf. I'll post those either tomorrow or the next day, when I post the rest of the Labyrinth fic I've written for several requests.
Thank you to everyone who responded - I needed the push to get back on a writing regimen.
And thank you to everyone who has sent me birthday wishes. They mean more to me than you can imagine, and I'm honored that you're my friends.
I'm going to spam your friends' pages by posting again later tonight, so I'll apologize in advance for that. ;) Now, on with the drabbles...
ETA: I was so concerned with getting the coding right that I forgot one very important thing: Thanks much to knight0fswords and shadowycat for beta-ing these for me on very short notice.
For amberdiceless - Harry Potter Request: SS/MM - friendship/romance, humor, house rivalry and/or insight into their relationship, no porn
Minerva knocked firmly on the door to Snape's private quarters and waited with mingled impatience and dread. Finally, it was wrenched open and Severus stood in the doorway, glowering at her.
"Here to gloat?" he snapped. "Did you think you'd come down here to flaunt your House Cup win?"
Minerva rolled her eyes. "You know better than that."
She didn't wait for an invitation, she simply pushed past him and entered his rooms. With the ease of long familiarity, she walked straight to his drinks cabinet and poured out two glasses of whiskey. They both needed a drink after the events of the night.
As the amber liquid filled the glasses, she mentally girded her loins and counted one, two, three--
Right on schedule, Severus exploded behind her.
"The Headmaster expects me to convince those children that prejudice against Muggleborns and half-bloods is unacceptable and then he does something like this?" he snarled. "He demoralised Slytherin House tonight, Minerva. He took away the House Cup and handed it to Harry Potter for no other reason than that he could."
Minerva sighed. There was no defending this. As soon as the Leaving Feast had ended, she'd vehemently protested to Albus, but to no avail. Albus was too determined to put right all those years of neglect. His guilt over leaving Harry with the Dursleys' ran far too deep and had blinded him to the possible repercussions.
She turned back to Severus and handed him a glass of liquor. "I'm not going to try to justify his actions. It was unfair. But surely you know why Albus did this."
"What I know, Minerva, is that it's James Potter all over again! No matter how many rules that boy breaks, no matter how recklessly he acts, he'll be rewarded at my expense. Some things never change."
Minerva winced inwardly at the bitter tone that filled Severus' voice. She'd been afraid of this.
"I hope Albus thought it was worth it," Severus continued. "He made an enemy tonight of every child in Slytherin."
Minerva nodded wearily. It was only to be expected.
She sat in one of the pair of chairs in front of the fire and sipped her drink. Severus began to pace a tight path in front of her, the worn nap of the rug revealing just how often this occurred.
"You didn't help, you know." His words were abruptly thrown out like a gauntlet. "You broke the rules for the boy, too. His own broom, Minerva? Would you care to explain where that Nimbus Two Thousand came from, as if I can't guess?"
Shame stabbed at her and she stared down in to the whiskey. "I apologise," she finally said, firmly. "That was wrong of me to do. I let my desire to win overcome everything else. Which is, as you've pointed out to me on more than one occasion, "what Gryffindors do". That's why Gryffindors need Slytherins as friends. You balance us out, rein us in."
He stopped dead in his tracks and then shook his head in defeat. He wearily sank into the chair next to her and took a long drink of whiskey.
"What do we do then?" he asked. "You know the preferential treatment will continue. This is just the beginning."
Minerva reached out and placed her hand on his arm. "We'll work together, Severus, as best we can. That's all that any of us can do."
"Will it be enough?" He didn't look at her; he simply cradled the whiskey glass in his palms and stared into the fire.
"I don't know," was all the reply she could give him.
For angharad04 - Harry Potter Request: A nice little romance for Professor Sprout
When Pomona Sprout had received Mr. Ollivander's letter, she'd been intrigued. Producing stronger wand wood by cultivating a selection of trees cared for in a magical environment by magical children was a very interesting idea.
Over the next few weeks, he travelled often to Hogwarts to discuss the details of the project with her, and they talked about which types of trees should be planted, how many wands could be reliably produced from a single tree (not nearly as many as she had assumed,) and whether staking the trees would be beneficial or harmful to their ultimate goal. Finally, a plan was developed. He selected the trees that he thought would fare best, and the planting began.
There were times when Mr. Ollivander looked at her with a peculiar glean in his eyes and Pomona wondered if perhaps he was interested in more than a business relationship, but she always quickly chided herself. She was being fanciful, nothing more. She was an old woman. No point in having those hopes any longer.
One evening, as they walked through Greenhouse Three, examining the tiny seedlings in their little pots, they encountered one of Pomona's Hufflepuffs. Owen Cauldwell was pacing furiously and muttering to himself.
Pomona and Ollivander exchanged glances before Ollivander diplomatically retreated a few steps to allow Pomona to speak to the boy in relative privacy.
"Mr. Cauldwell," Pomona said, "is something wrong?"
Startled, the boy turned and flushed at being discovered. "No, ma'am. Noth-- Nothing's wrong," he stammered.
"Are you quite certain? You appear to be somewhat agitated."
"Well... It's... It's just that I want Eleanor Branstone to sit with me at dinner and I don't know how to ask her," Cauldwell blurted out. "Ernie MacMillan said that I shouldn't ask her at all, to just sit next to her and that would be that, but I really think that I should say something to her. Don't you?" The look on Cauldwell's face was a blend of hope and desperation.
"Yes, I agree that you should ask her," Pomona answered gravely. "It would be the polite thing to do."
"But what should I say? Every time that I even think about asking her, I get nervous and my hands go all sweaty." The boy held up his palms, as if to demonstrate.
Pomona suppressed a smile. "In my experience, Mr. Cauldwell, young ladies appreciate a gentleman who treats them with respect. I suggest saying, "Would you do me the honour of attending dinner with me tonight? That demonstrates both your respect and good manners."
Cauldwell cast her a doubtful look. "Are you sure?"
"Oh, yes. I was young once, as difficult as that may be to believe. I'm certain that she'll answer that she would be delighted."
"You think?" The boy took a shuddering breath and chewed on his bottom lip thoughtfully. "Okay, I'll give it a try."
Pomona nodded. "Good luck, Mr. Cauldwell."
When the boy had left, Ollivander returned to Pomona's side and smiled wryly. "I couldn't help but overhear. You should have warned him that it doesn't change, no matter how old you become."
"What doesn't?" she asked, puzzled.
"Sweaty palms," he said, holding up his hands.
She blinked in surprise at the slight sheen of moisture there. Bemused, she looked up into his face.
With a determined expression, he said, "Pomona, would you do me the honour of attending dinner with me tonight?"
Her heart leapt into her throat and she smiled slowly. "I'd be delighted."
For bakapikananoda - Harry Potter Request: Snape/Granger humor - with a bar of soap, no smut
Hermione sighed and relaxed against Severus. The heat of the water and the steam gathered in the small bathroom combined to make her feel positively languid.
"Oh, I needed this," she murmured. "What a lovely idea to have a bath together."
His low voice rumbled in her ear, soothing and yet simultaneously teasing. "Is teaching Arithmancy not as easy as you'd thought?"
She snorted softly. "I never thought it would be easy, but I didn't realise that it was so tiring."
"I did try to tell you. It's the sheer repetition that I find draining. It's as if I'm repeatedly trying to stuff knowledge into the head of a Jarvey," he said, lightly massaging her shoulders. "The best you can hope for is that eventually they'll parrot it back to you properly amidst the insults."
After a moment, Hermione smiled smugly when she felt Severus shift and his hands slid down her sides and then around to skim along the outside of her thighs. They'd been married for over a year and whilst her mother had warned her that intense passion inevitably waned, she'd seen no sign of it yet. Severus was every bit as amorous today as he'd been on the day they married.
Hermione snuggled a bit closer to him, and his fingers slipped under her thighs. She obligingly parted her legs in expectation.
His hands slowly moved back and forth, the tips of his fingers grazing against her flesh and she shivered in anticipation, arching her back slightly.
"Lift up a bit," he murmured.
Her smile widened and she raised her body up, allowing him to slide his hands under her. But when only the backs of his hands brushed against her arse and then continued moving, she frowned.
"Severus, what are you doing?" she demanded.
"I'm looking for the soap." His tone was unapologetic. "I think you're sitting on it."
She splashed back down into the water abruptly. "Oh, god, I hate it when my mother is right," she muttered.
For edanielrya - X-Men Request: Logan/Rogue, with a hopeful ending. Doesn't have to be happy, but I could use some light at the end of the tunnel.
Author's Note: This is strictly movie based and AU. I apologize in advance for any damage I do to the X-Men universe.
The first month after Jean's death, Rogue went to find Logan each night. He obviously didn't want to talk and so they didn't. She sat near him, silently reading or filling in a crossword puzzle while he stared at the television and drank beer.
"Logan needs me right now," Rogue whispered, and Bobby understood and didn't press her to spend time with him. All wasn't right with the world, but he knew that Rogue was determined to patch it back together with little more than spit and glue.
The second month after Jean's death, Rogue tried talking to Logan. He rarely answered, but he listened. She'd fill the silence with chatter about what was going on in the mansion, about how Kitty wanted to attend MIT, and that Jubilee had painted her fingernails bright green, and how Kurt was teaching Ororo to speak German.
Bobby's smile had started to become strained, and he began asking when things would go back to normal.
Rogue shook her head and said, "I don't know, but Logan needs me. You understand, don't you?"
Bobby hesitated, but he nodded, and Rogue went back to trying to repair the cracks in the world.
The third month after Jean's death, Rogue pulled out a deck of cards and challenged Logan to a game of gin rummy. He blinked at her in surprise, but picked up his cards and played. He beat her five games out of six that first night, but she teasingly promised to get revenge. When she did get that revenge, she was thrilled that Logan smiled at her briefly.
Rogue went to tell Bobby, but he was busy training and didn't have time to talk. She shrugged it off, simply happy that a few of the patches seemed to be holding and that the world was slowly starting to right itself once again.
The fourth month after Jean's death, Rogue woke up to find an envelope slipped under her door. It contained Logan's dog tags and a note that read I'll come back for these. Take care of yourself.
Rogue was in tears when she found Bobby, but she was stunned by his remote attitude. When Bobby flatly told her that he was glad that Logan was gone, Rogue was furious. She'd thought that Bobby understood.
Bobby answered that he understood things just fine, and he walked away without a backward glance.
As everything splintered again, Rogue realized that the only world she'd managed to patch together was Logan's.
One year after Jean's death, Logan returned to the mansion. He found that Rogue had graduated from Ororo's high school classes and had joined the team. He also found that Rogue and Bobby were coolly polite to each another but nothing more, and Logan wondered what had shattered that relationship.
He tried talking to Rogue, but somewhere along the way she'd developed a smart mouth and a tough façade. Logan knew that there had been some difficult missions while he was gone, but that didn't explain why Rogue had become so brittle.
He told himself that Rogue was a little girl who'd been through hard times and some changes were to be expected, but a small voice in the back of his mind pointed out that the little girl who stowed away in his trailer was long gone, replaced by a grown woman. Logan resolutely pushed that voice away; that was something he didn't need to think about.
Sitting alone one night, staring unseeing at the night sky, Logan admitted to himself that he had failed Rogue, but he didn't know how to fix things. She hadn't offered the dog tags back, though, and he hadn't asked her for them. There was hope there. If only he could figure out how to repair the damage.
He tried just sitting with her, giving her the opportunity to talk to him, but Rogue remained silent. Then Logan tried talking to her. Not about anything in particular, just rambling tales of where he'd been and what he'd seen. Rogue rarely answered, but he felt encouraged when she tilted her head and listened.
Finally, Logan broke out a deck of cards and dealt a hand of gin rummy. She hesitated, but picked up her cards, and they began to play. When he told Rogue that he was leaving soon, her eyes went blank for an instant and flashed in rage. She swept the cards from the table with one gloved hand and stood there glaring at him.
"Why tell me?" she spat out. "Just leave like you did before." Rogue ripped the dog tags from around her neck and tossed them at his feet. "Jean died and you left. It wasn't hard to figure out that she was the only one who was important to you. Why should you make an announcement now?"
Rogue was on her feet and headed toward the door when he caught her. He grabbed her arms, swinging her around to face him, and pushed her against the wall.
"Jean's dead and I came back," he snapped. "What does that tell you?"
He took a step closer and leaned into Rogue to hold her in place. For a split second, she went utterly still, and then he felt her shiver. The awareness of her that had been hiding in the back of his mind broke free, and the world shuddered as everything between them shifted.
"When I leave, I want you to come with me," he said.
"I'm not a little girl anymore, Logan." Rogue was still trying to be defiant, but here was a plaintive note in her voice now.
In answer, he deliberately pressed against her more fully. "I'm aware of that."
He drew back slightly and Rogue searched his eyes for a long moment before she finally said, "All right. I'll go with you."
Logan nodded once, satisfied. All still wasn't right with the world, but for the time being, the patches were holding.
For eloisasnape - Harry Potter Request: Snape/Mrs Granger
"More tea?" Anne Granger asked. "I'm sorry that my husband has been delayed, but there was an emergency at the office."
The woman who had introduced herself as Minerva McGonagall accepted another cup of tea, but the man -- Severus Snape -- declined. Anne wasn't surprised. It was painfully obvious that the man (wizard?) didn't want to be here in her home at all, but he had immediately captured Anne's attention.
He wasn't handsome. He wasn't even conventionally attractive. In fact, everything taken separately, Severus Snape was an unappealing man. He needed a decent shampoo; whatever he was using was completely inappropriate for his hair. He could also use a good dose of fresh air and sunlight. And his teeth... Well, the less said about those, the better, but she could fix those, given half a chance. Yet there was still something oddly compelling about him. He exuded an aura of forbidden knowledge... As if he knew all sorts of deliciously dark secrets.
His black eyes suddenly locked with hers and an expression of sly amusement flashed across his face. The breath was driven from her lungs. He knew. Oh, god. Somehow, he knew she was attracted to him.
Anne quickly glanced away, but she could feel the blush rising in her cheeks.
Professor McGonagall shifted slightly on the floral patterned sofa. "Mrs. Granger, as your husband has been detained, perhaps it would be best if we were to return at a later time? While the Ministry has already sent someone round to discuss the repercussions of Hermione's magical abilities, we would like to discuss her entrance into Hogwarts with the both of her parents."
"Yes, of course," Anne answered, her mouth suddenly dry. "I suppose that would be for the best."
"Is there a particular time in which we should return?" For the first time since their brief introduction, Professor Snape spoke. His voice was like black satin sliding over her senses and Anne had to fight the impulse to close her eyes and just listen to him speak.
A germ of an idea flashed through her mind and she took a deep breath. "As I said, Hermione is away visiting my mother. I'll be here alone all day tomorrow, but my husband should be home after 5:00 p.m." Anne placed a subtle emphasis on the word alone. "Perhaps you could both return then?"
Even as Professor McGonagall nodded her agreement, Anne could see Professor Snape's knowing smirk.
Yes... He'd understood.
Now all Anne had to do was wait. Tomorrow morning she would know if Severus Snape had accepted her private invitation.
For erised1810 - Harry Potter Request: Albus Dumbledore. Minerva being sorted and seeing Albus' reaction
Albus Dumbledore took his seat at the Head Table, nodding a greeting to the other Professors and to Headmaster Dippet. He took a sip of pumpkin juice and glanced around the Great Hall at the students gathered around their house tables.
This was to be his first Sorting Ceremony from the perspective of a Professor. He smiled to himself. Who would have thought that he'd be back here at Hogwarts after all these years? His smile faded a bit as he considered the reason he'd returned.
Dark forces were stirring in the wizarding world. Grindelwald's rhetoric was disturbing, and while Grindelwald was being dismissed as a lunatic by some, Albus had no doubt that dangerous times were looming in their future if things didn't change. That was why he'd returned; he wanted to be in a position to influence the next generation of witches and wizards, and to guide them away from the Dark Arts.
The door to the Great Hall opened and the Deputy Headmaster led in the first year students. Albus fought to keep his expression neutral. They were so young. Looking at their bright faces made him feel very old and very tired, indeed.
In an effort to cheer his thoughts, he attempted to guess which of these students would be the leaders of their year. His gaze lingered here and there, finally coming to rest on a small dark-haired girl standing ramrod straight, her hands clasped behind her back and her chin tilted up, giving her a slightly stubborn air. Her, he decided. If the determined glint in her eye was any indication, she would be Head Girl in a few years.
Albus turned his attention back to the Deputy Head as he began calling out the children's names in alphabetical order, asking them to come forward to be sorted. Albus applauded politely as each child was placed in one of the four houses. He smiled when the little dark-haired girl took a step forward in anticipation of her name being called, and Albus leaned forward a bit in order to hear her name clearly.
The Deputy Head cleared his throat and said, "Minerva McGonagall."
Albus nodded to himself. He'd have to keep an eye on her. As the sorting hat shouted, "Gryffindor!" and she smiled in delight, Albus thought, Well, Minerva McGonagall, I'm going to expect great things from you.
For hawaii5063 - Harry Potter Request: Snarky but not evil Snape
Severus had begun to think that he'd managed to avoid it this year. He risked a quick glance at the clock on his desk -- 8:47 p.m. He'd never had one turn up after 9:00 p.m. Only a few more minutes...
He gave a resigned sigh when he heard the knock on his office door. He should have known better. Luck was never on his side. His fingers tightened on his quill and he barked out, "Enter."
Hermione Granger opened the door, and his perpetual frown deepened to a scowl. Good gods, not her. Whilst she was an annoying creature, he'd thought she was more sensible than this. She approached his desk with a tentative smile, and he quickly revised his opinion. Years of associating with Potter and Weasley had obviously left her as addlepated as the rest of them.
"Professor Snape, I'm hoping--" she began.
He didn't allow her to finish and fixed her with a venomous glare. "No, Miss Granger, absolutely not."
She blinked at him before trying again. "But, sir--"
He set aside his quill and raised a hand to stop her from speaking. "Let me save us both a great deal of time. Each year I hope that I might escape this idiocy, yet each year after the leaving feast, a half-witted girl turns up quivering with inappropriate passion and assuming that I might show the slightest interest in her."
Her mouth dropped open to gape at him, and he smirked for a moment before continuing.
"I am not the nicest of men, Miss Granger, but I have never harbored the desire, secret or otherwise, to debauch a schoolgirl, and that's exactly what you are: a schoolgirl. I don't care that you're legally of age. I don't care that you've taken your NEWTs. I don't care that the leaving feast is over and that you're no longer my student. Your fledgling foray into seduction is ludicrous, inappropriate, and unappreciated. In my eyes, you're nothing more than a silly little girl, and I'd sooner shag Sibyll Trelawney. Now get out."
He settled back in his chair and crossed his arms, waiting to see which of the two usual reactions he would receive from her. The bright flush of humiliation was always a popular choice, but bursting into tears ran a close second. Considering that Granger was an overachiever, odds were good for a combination of the two. He was surprised when her mouth snapped closed and her lips quivered as if she was suppressing a smile. Then she pulled a piece of parchment from the pocket of her robes.
"Actually, Professor," she said, her tone dry, "seduction is the furthest thing from my mind. I came here hoping that you'd sign this letter of recommendation. It's been suggested that anyone applying for a position with the Ministry have letters from all of their Professors."
It was his turn to blink at her. Oh, good gods, he could imagine it now -- she would immediately tell Potter and Weasley of his mistaken assumption, they would tell everyone else, and wouldn't they all share a good laugh at his expense?
"Get out," he snapped.
She frowned. "Does that mean that you won't sign my reference?"
"Get out." His tone went deadly.
"But it would only take a min--"
"Get out now!" he bellowed.
Granger huffed out an annoyed breath, turned on her heel and stomped out of his office. Yes, no doubt about it. She was on her way straight to Potter and Weasley.
Severus dropped his head in his hands. Surely it was 9:00 p.m. now? He'd go to his quarters, have a large glass of firewhiskey, and try to forget this day had ever happened.
He straightened and lifted his wand, preparing to slam his office door shut when he found himself looking into the hopeful eyes of Millicent Bulstrode who was standing awkwardly in his doorway.
Severus took a quick glance at the clock and stifled a groan. 8:58 p.m.
No, luck had never been on his side.
For ladymontgomery - Harry Potter Request: Lucius/Hermione, loosely connected to The Best Revenge
Author's Note: This is directly connected to The Best Revenge, a possible epilogue, if you will. ;)
Deciding which jewellery to buy for a paramour was a tricky business, Lucius mused as he approached Jurnigan's Jewellery Shop in Diagon Alley. Too fine and he would imply that he held the woman in higher regard than he did. Not fine enough and he would risk losing her favour. However, she was a delicious bit of pureblood fluff and he wasn't ready to relinquish his place in her bed just yet.
As Lucius entered the building, he was surprised to see two very familiar figures. Oh, my. He'd heard that they were seeing each other, of course, but he'd no idea that things were this serious. After all, there was only one reason that Severus Snape and Hermione Granger would be in a jeweller's shop perusing a tray of wedding rings.
Oh, this should be most amusing...
"Imagine meeting the two of you here," he called from the doorway. "And it appears that congratulations are in order. Have you set a date?"
Severus shot him an annoyed look and Hermione turned to look at Lucius.
"Good morning," she said politely. "Thank you, but we've not set a date yet. Soon, though."
Lucius crossed the room, waving away an anxious clerk, to stand beside Hermione. Best to keep her between the two of them, he thought, as he took in Snape's stormy countenance.
"Lucius," Severus snapped. "I'm sure you have important things to do and, as you can see, we're busy."
"Actually, there's nothing I'd enjoy more than helping you select a ring." He looked down and saw that only women's rings were being displayed.
"No matching wedding band for you, Severus?"
"There are potions that react badly to certain metals," Snape growled.
"Ah, of course." Lucius turned his attention back to the rings. "But these are hardly adequate. Jurnigan, go into the back and bring out the good jewellery."
"But I'm displaying what the gentleman asked to see--" Jurnigan started, but when Lucius narrowed his eyes, Jurnigan's mouth snapped shut. "Of course, Mr. Malfoy."
The shop owner scurried away quickly, disappearing into the back of the shop.
Severus' frown deepened.
Jurnigan returned with two more trays and, one after the other, these new rings found their way onto Hermione's finger. Diamonds, sapphires, emeralds, each more lavish than the last, until finally, she held up her hand and said, "I've made my decision."
Lucius took in the elaborate diamond and emerald ring on her finger, and he stifled a smirk at the pinched look around Snape's mouth. A teacher's salary was limited, and Lucius had no doubt that this ring was far out of Snape's price range.
But Lucius was surprised when Hermione removed the ornate ring from her finger and turned back to the original tray of jewellery. She lifted a plain gold band from the tray. "This is the one I want."
"Are you certain?" Both men spoke simultaneously, and then shot each other an annoyed glance. While Snape's voice held an undercurrent of relief, Lucius' sounded disbelieving.
"I'm positive," Hermione said and then her expression turned wistful. "Since I was a little girl, I'd hoped to have a wedding band like my mother's. I've always thought it was so beautiful and so elegant. This is the one that I want."
Severus nodded solemnly. "Then that's the ring you shall have."
Whilst Snape paid for the ring, Hermione turned back to Lucius.
"I suppose that I should thank you," she said in a low voice. "Severus would have always wondered if I might have preferred a different ring. Now that I've tried on every ring in the shop, he won't worry about that any longer."
Lucius snorted. "You never had any intention of considering a more expensive ring, did you?"
"Of course not." Hermione shook her head. "The ring is only a symbol. I don't need diamonds or sapphires. I already have the most important thing." She gave Snape a fond look.
Lucius frowned. Oh, really, this was so sweet that it was almost sickening. The most important thing, indeed. He barely refrained from rolling his eyes.
After Severus and Hermione left, a black velvet box safely tucked into Snape's pocket, Lucius glanced around the jewellery shop. For some reason, though, he'd lost his taste for selecting a trifle for his lover. Let the little pureblood tart do without. She already had plenty of jewellery.
For melisande88 - Harry Potter/Labyrinth Crossover Request: Non-fluffy crossover with Lucius/Sarah
Author's Note: Some time ago, I wrote a story called "Future Perfect" and while you don't have to read that story to understand this, I wrote this thinking that it would fit nicely into that universe.
Lucius had found her wandering alone in Diagon Alley. She'd immediately brightened at the sight of him, although he was certain that they'd never met. Tall, dark-haired and beautiful, Sarah had smiled slyly and told him that he reminded her of someone she used to know, but she'd declined to elaborate.
She claimed that she'd simply followed someone into The Leaky Cauldron and then through the entrance to Diagon Alley. Muggle repelling charms inevitably failed in her presence and she was completely undeterred by them. Even if she couldn't wield it, the magic that permeated this world reached out and embraced her, recognising her as having been marked by something or someone, and whilst she wasn't a witch, she'd obviously been touched by magic. It swirled around her like the heady scent of perfume, but she refused to explain its origin.
Lucius could have forced the explanation out of her, but... her air of mystery was infinitely more intriguing.
He kept Sarah well away from his other life. He would never leave Narcissa -- his standing in the community wouldn't allow that, nor did he truly wish it -- but he couldn't bring himself to give up Sarah, either. She was his darkest secret: Lucius Malfoy, pureblood and Death Eater, had taken a Muggle as a lover.
He leased an out-of-the-way cottage for Sarah and installed her there with a house elf to tend to her needs. She'd laughed and ignored the creature's name, insisting that it answer to Hoggle, and when she'd become entranced by a barn owl at Eeylops Emporium, Lucius had indulged her.
Sometimes, for his amusement, Sarah would act out scenes from an unfamiliar play, always taking the part of a princess searching for a stolen child. In the flickering candlelight of the cottage, there were moments when Lucius would have sworn that she was performing for the owl rather than for him. That's when he began to suspect that she wasn't quite sane.
She particularly enjoyed brushing his hair, and Lucius would sit on the bed, his head tipped back and eyes closed, almost purring in pleasure as she hummed under her breath and slowly drew the brush through his long blond hair.
Sarah was never afraid of him, even when was cruel to her. Oddly enough, she seemed to relish that sort of behaviour. Oh, not physical violence -- neither of them enjoyed that -- but she blossomed in the face of cutting wit and harsh disdain, and it was during the moments when his words were the harshest and his tone the most biting that she would begin to lose control. It was then that she would come closest revealing her secret. Those moments were the ones when she would almost call him by another name. Her lips would begin forming the first syllable, but she always caught herself at the last instant.
It was a simple dance that led to her undoing. Lucius purchased a gilded music box for her -- a trifle, really -- and had waltzed her around the room, eventually pulling her down onto the bed with him.
During her climax, she'd screamed out a name and, surprised, he'd tried to pull back, but it was too late. His own orgasm had already started, and his back bowed and hips thrust forward, trying to bury himself as deeply as possible inside her. Pleasure slashed through him with a white-hot razor's edge and he slumped forward to catch his breath, uncaring if he crushed her.
The satisfaction at finally having a clue to her past was tempered by the surprising pain of hearing another man's name on her lips.
Lucius turned his head and whispered into the shell of her ear. "Who is Jareth?"
For pandora_nervosa - Harry Potter Request: Snape/Granger - kink
Author's Note: I promised pandora_nervosa that I will finish this up with a longer fic. But I just can't write kink in approximately 500 words. ~sigh~
ETA: Special thanks to rachel_w for graciously looking over this for me.
It had been an accident, really. Early in their marriage, Severus had turned her over his knee when she'd playfully attempted to tickle him, and he'd administered a mock spanking. Her rather... enthusiastic reaction had surprised them both, although neither had commented on it at the time.
Later, Hermione decided it was because of her job with the Ministry. All day, people looked to her to make decisions for them, to tell them what to do. The luxury of leaving all that behind was far more arousing than she would have ever thought. And Severus had always taken particular pleasure in being in control. The combination was, perhaps, inevitable.
He was the first to make a direct overture. When she'd come home from the office and walked into their bedroom to change robes, Severus had grabbed her by the arms and spun her around, pressing her face-first into the wall.
When she realised that it was her husband and that she was in no danger, her heartbeat had begun to slow, and then it escalated again when he whispered into her ear.
"You'll do exactly as I tell you. Do you understand?"
Her eyes widened. Surely he didn't mean--
His hips pressed against her backside and she felt his erection plainly. "Do you understand?" he repeated.
"Yes," she replied with a gasp.
"Yes, what?" he snapped. "Don't make me repeat myself."
Hermione blinked. He was using his "teaching voice" and the sudden rush of wet heat between her legs was astonishing. It almost distracted her from his question.
She hazarded a guess. "Um, yes, sir?"
"Much better," he purred. "However, I prefer master."
That had been the beginning.
Now Hermione knelt in the centre of the bed, blindfolded, waiting for his instructions. She wasn't certain how long she'd been here; it could have been minutes or hours. He'd placed the blindfold on her and told her to wait until he returned. Finally, she heard the door to their bedroom open and the whisper of Severus' robes as he approached her.
A glass vial touched her lips and she detected the mingled fragrance of honey and rosemary overlaying other, deeper, scents.
"Drink," Severus said.
The liquid was still warm as he tipped the contents of the vial into her mouth. Had he just finished brewing this? She quivered as fiery warmth raced through her veins, and she gasped at the sudden increase of sensation. The texture of the bedcover was amplified to the point that she could feel each individual thread under her legs. A sensitising potion, she thought.
"Now, Hermione, pay close attention: I forbid you to climax without my permission," Severus asked.
She had only a moment to register the clear amusement in his voice before his hand slipped between her legs and the delicious torment began, driving all other thoughts from her mind.
Within minutes, she'd disobeyed her master, but she couldn't quite bring herself to care. She would be disciplined, of course, but that was part of the fun...
For spaztic_lassie - Harry Potter Request: Remus/Lily Angst
Remus should have known when the owl arrived bearing an invitation from James and Lily. Meet us at The Leaky Cauldron. We have a surprise for you. Sirius and Peter will be there, too, and we're all going into Muggle London for dinner. It will be our treat. No arguments!
When he arrived, he saw Sirius standing next to James, both of them laughing uproariously. Peter stood by Lily, carefully examining something on her left ring finger.
Her left ring finger...
They hadn't seen him yet and Remus ducked around a corner, slumping back against the wall in defeat. James and Lily were announcing their engagement.
We have a surprise for you... Well, really, what else could it have been? James and Lily had been a couple for the past ten months. It was inevitable, wasn't it?
He should have known this day would come, but it didn't stop the pain. Remus had loved Lily for years, always knowing that he didn't stand a chance. It was inconceivable to him that such a lovely, shining woman could ever return the feelings of a werewolf, and so he'd kept it secret.
Wearily, Remus forced himself to straighten and square his shoulders as he made a silent vow. No one would ever know; he'd take this secret to his grave.
He pasted a smile on his face and walked around the corner.
"Hello, everyone," he called.
"Remus! We've been waiting on you. Come and look. We were going to wait to surprise everyone over dinner, but Peter spotted it right away, so the game was up," James said with a grin.
Lily proudly held out her left hand and the engagement ring there glittered and flashed in the lamplight.
For a fraction of a second, Remus' smile faltered, and then he had it firmly back in place.
"I see congratulations are in order. I'm happy for you both," he answered.
Lily beamed, and James clapped him on the back; Peter grinned widely. Only Sirius shot him a sharp look, and Remus carefully avoided his eyes.
"Have you set a date yet?" Remus asked.
"No, not yet," Lily answered. "Soon, though. We see no point in waiting. You'll all be there, of course." She stepped close to Remus and placed her hand on his arm. "We'll pick a day that falls on the new moon, I promise," she whispered.
His throat felt tight. "You're always very thoughtful, Lily. James is a lucky man."
James laughed and nodded in agreement. "Of course, I am. The woman I love has agreed to marry me, my friends are with me, and the night is young. What more could anyone want?"
"What more, indeed?" Remus murmured as he watched his last dream slip away.
For shadowycat - Harry Potter Request: SS/MM - One gives the other a birthday present
Minerva flicked her wand and the door to her rooms opened. With another small gesture, the stack of birthday gifts that floated behind her obediently filed through the doorway and neatly arranged themselves on a nearby table.
Her co-workers had thrown a small party in the staff room, complete with party hats, cake, and presents, although she wasn't certain what she was going to do with the large tin of rock cakes that Hagrid had given her. Perhaps she could transfigure them into something else... A sculpture of some kind?
Severus Snape's voice filled the room. "Professor McGonagall. May I speak with you for a moment?"
Minerva smiled and turned to see his head floating amidst the brilliant green flames in her fireplace. He was always so circumspect. When they'd first become lovers over three years ago, they'd both agreed to keep their relationship completely private to avoid any complications. Strictly speaking, Minerva was Severus' supervisor. So far, they'd managed to keep their secret from everyone.
"It's safe, Severus. I'm alone."
In the next moment, he was stepping through the fireplace and into her quarters, dusting specks of ash from his clothing.
"The party lasted longer than I thought it would," he observed. "Flitwick, I suspect. Once he begins singing, it's difficult to get him to stop."
Minerva shook her head ruefully. "He's rather enthusiastic about that, isn't he?"
"And very loud for such a diminutive man," Snape added.
"You left early," she chided. "You missed the loudest bits."
"For which, I can only be thankful. At any rate, I preferred to give you your gift in a private setting." He took a plain glass bottle from his pocket and held it out to her. "Happy birthday, Minerva."
Puzzled, she took the bottle from his hand and held it to the light. Removing the lid, she found that the bottle was filled with a thick, creamy liquid. She took a cautious sniff, but smelled nothing. It was completely odorless.
She pursed her lips. "All right, Severus, what is it?"
"It's a skin cream," he said, folding his arms over his chest.
She drew back, slightly affronted. "I beg your pardon? I may be another year older, but are you implying that I need a moisturizing lotion?"
He snorted and shook his head. "Of course not. This is a very special type of skin cream. What do you think it smells of?" he asked.
"Nothing," she replied. "It has no odor."
"Are you certain?" He tilted his head. "Doesn't it smell of roses?"
She sniffed at the bottle again. "So it does," she exclaimed in surprise as the scent of roses wafted from the lotion.
"Or perhaps it smells of peaches, instead?" Severus asked, his lips twitching in amusement.
The scent of the lotion instantly changed and it now smelled of a freshly cut ripe peach.
Minerva smiled in delight. "It changes scent depending on what is specified. Oh, how lovely, Severus. Thank you so much."
"It does much more than that," he said. "Put some on your skin."
She complied, rubbing a small amount of the lotion into her hands, noting that the lotion left her skin with a silky feel.
He gave her a teasing look and lifted one of her hands to his lips, and his tongue flickered lightly against her fingertip. He released her hand. "It tastes of peaches now, as well." He raised one eyebrow. "And, Minerva, it can be safely applied to any number of places on your body. Places that are far more sensitive than your hands."
He dipped his finger into the lotion and smeared a bit on her neck. As he licked her skin clean, he began to unbutton her robes.
Her lips rounded in understanding, then she gave a smirk worthy of the Head of Slytherin. "This has a great deal of potential, but it's a terribly small bottle."
He raised his head. "I have four more bottles in my quarters."
She laughed and then her robes fell to the floor, and she was far too distracted to think about lotion.
For valis2 - Harry Potter Request: Happy Snape
As the four stretchers floated along behind him, Severus Snape decided that he felt happy for the first time in years. Well, why not? He certainly deserved some happiness. Oh, he'd been furious when he'd first regained consciousness. Those little brats had attacked him! But when he realized that Ron Weasley and -- strangely enough -- Granger's cat were lying unconscious nearby, fury had been replaced by instinctive fear. Where were the others? More importantly, where was Black and the werewolf? He knew that Lupin hadn't taken the Wolfsbane Potion, so there was no doubt that there was now a vicious dark creature running loose in the forest.
In the distance he'd heard Potter screaming, "Expecto Patronum" and he'd whirled around, looking toward the lake. Dark gliding motions against the full moon had caught his attention. Dementors, dozens of them.
He'd never admit it to anyone, but he'd hesitated for a moment. In all likelihood, if the Dementors didn't finish off Black and Potter, then the werewolf would, and so many debts would be settled. The temptation to wait had been incredible... But in the end, he'd known that he couldn't do it. He'd risked far too much protecting Potter to see it all go badly now. However, if the Dementors had already found Black then it was certainly nothing more than the bastard deserved.
Snape had conjured a stretcher for Weasley. He knew that the boy would slow him down, but he couldn't leave him here at the mercy of a werewolf or Dementors. No matter how annoying the boy was, he didn't deserve either fate.
As quickly as possible, Snape had finally reached the lake and found, to his immense relief, that the Dementors had retreated. Potter and Granger were lying crumpled on the ground, unconscious, as was Sirius Black.
Severus had relished the sight of his childhood nemesis lying incapacitated. It was more than he could have hoped for. Snape had bound the unconscious Black and then conjured three more stretchers. Keeping a wary eye out for the werewolf and the Dementors, he'd guided Black and the children toward the castle.
As he walked, Severus thought how pleased everyone would be to see him. Why, he was a hero. He'd captured Sirius Black and saved Potter in the bargain. The Ministry might even give him an Order of Merlin for this.
Severus imagined the Minister for Magic placing the medal around his neck as a cheering crowd applauded, and he smiled. He'd struggled and suffered for years, and now everything was falling neatly into place. Finally, everything was going his way, and there was nothing that anyone could do to change it.
For britstrat, dream_labyrinth, elfgirl, morwennac, samuraibutterfl, saxonny, and whitemunin - Labyrinth Request: Jareth and Sarah have have to end up together, something romantic, maybe a bit of fluff, no non-con, UST or seduction - no excessive schmoop or angst, smut/angst/torture/happy ending, but no evil Jareth, angst that turns into acceptance, some physical contact is okay, but no "fairy shit," Jareth/Sarah and the first kiss between them, dueling tongues and all that, please.
Author's Note: I will continue this either tomorrow or the next day, but this is the prelude to a longer story.
Feedle peered into the stolen crystal and yawned. He hated coming down to this oubliette; it gave him the shivers, it did. Everyday, it was the same old thing: watch the girl, watch the girl. He couldn't even remember which one of the other goblins had come up with this stupid idea. All he knew is that it was his turn to watch and if he didn't, then Gibbergeist would be angry and knock him away from the cask of ale all the rest of the week.
The little goblin sighed. The girl never said the words. Gibbergeist told him that she'd say them sooner or later. Well, it was later -- years and years later -- and she still hadn't. Now they'd have to give the King something else for his birthday. One year, they'd all been so certain that the girl would say the words that they'd waited until the last minute, and they'd had to give him a chicken for a present instead. It had been a nice plump brown hen, but His Majesty hadn't seemed very pleased by it.
Feedle scratched his long nose. It was the girl's fault, wasn't it? Her fault that he was stuck down here in this pokey little oubliette once a day with no lovely cask of ale and no one to talk to. Why wouldn't the girl just say the words? This was boring and goblins don't like being bored; everybody knew that.
Sarah took a sip of white wine and looked out the window into the dreary, rainy night. How had she managed to screw up her life so completely?
Earlier that evening, she'd opened the newspaper and learned that her ex-husband was remarrying. While Sarah didn't begrudge Tim his happiness, envy had still sliced through her at the joy shining on the faces of the betrothed couple. She'd never been that happy. Instead, she had been good. For ten years, she'd been so good that sometimes she thought she would choke on it.
At fifteen, she'd returned from her trip through the labyrinth and her encounter with its charismatic king, determined to be a good sister and daughter. She'd been determined to obliterate the mark that he had left on her. Oh, it wasn't visible, but she'd known that he'd marked her just the same, and she wasn't going to let him get away with it. She was determined to have a real life. So she'd put away her childish things and diligently focused on her studies. After graduating from high school, there'd been college and -- her one concession to her youthful dreams -- a degree in theater arts. She gone to the obligatory parties, dated, and then married.
Her greatest triumph, however, had been systematically erasing the phrase "I wish" from her vocabulary and from her mind.
It had been difficult -- so many hopes and dreams were woven into those words, but she'd never allowed herself to utter them again. It was harder not to dream them, but she constantly struggled against allowing them to form even there. After all, it was better to be safe than sorry.
Sarah took another sip of wine and grimaced. Well, I was safe. And now I'm sorry. Her marriage had been a colossal mistake. Of course, it wasn't Tim's fault that it hadn't worked out. Especially since she'd selected him primarily because he was the complete antithesis of... him.
Tim was dark and stocky and solid and sensible -- everything she thought she should want in a husband. It was no wonder that she'd been miserable. After all, what she should want and what she did want were such very different things.
Tim had tried hard to make everything right and, for a while, Sarah had tried, too. But after twenty-one months of pretending that they were going to make it, she'd finally given up and filed for divorce. Before Tim had left, he'd wanted to know if there was another man, and Sarah had quickly said no. While it was the strict truth, she probably would have been more convincing if she'd been able to meet his eyes.
Sarah had thought that she could grow to love Tim, but she hadn't, not really, and she'd married him for all the wrong reasons. Worse -- to her burning shame -- the rare occasions that she'd found physical satisfaction with him had been when she'd closed her eyes, frantic with frustration, and allowed her husband to melt away.
In her imagination, short brown hair lengthened and became silvery blond, the broader countenance narrowed into delicate features, and a somber gray gaze melted into an intense pair of mismatched eyes until the man moving inside her wasn't her husband at all, but another man entirely. Her release had always been found quickly on those occasions.
Idly, Sarah contemplated the raindrops sliding down the windowpane. Maybe it was time to admit the truth. He had marked her and nothing would change that. No matter what she did, no matter how hard she struggled, it would never be over. Not for her. He moved through her life like a ghost, never quite visible but always on the edges of her perception.
Once upon a time, he'd offered her everything she'd ever wanted and all he'd demanded in return was the one thing she couldn't sacrifice: Toby.
How ironic that only a few years later she'd been forced to do just that by a divorce court. Her father and stepmother's divorce and the subsequent fight for custody of Toby had been prolonged and antagonistic. While Sarah had managed to forge a tenuous friendship with Karen, it hadn't been strong enough to survive the acrimony of lawyer's visits and custody hearings.
A few weeks after Karen had won custody of Toby, she'd announced that she'd received a business promotion and was moving to California. Sarah had swallowed her pride and gone to the older woman to literally beg her to reconsider. The cost in flying Toby back and forth across the country would prevent easy visitation, but Karen refused to be swayed.
Toby and Karen lived in California now and -- just as Sarah had feared -- she rarely saw her little brother more than once a year. While she had talked to him often on the telephone, he had been so young when he'd left that his early memories of her were blurred and fading, and Sarah realized that she had become little more than a friendly voice on the telephone who sent presents through the mail.
Blinking back tears, she leaned her forehead against the cool glass of the windowpane and closed her eyes. She'd given up so much to keep Toby and she'd lost him anyway.
How different would her life be today if she'd chosen a different path? Could she have reasoned with the labyrinth's king? Would he have sent Toby back if she had agreed to stay in his stead? Or had those words at the end been nothing more than trickery, a deception used to entice a young girl into giving up her baby brother to a beautiful but ruthless king?
"I wish..." she whispered. "Oh, I wish..."
Feedle clutched the crystal tighter and held his breath, but the girl didn't continue. "I wish?" he hissed. "I wish? Is that it? Finish it, you stupid girl!" What was wrong with her? Didn't she realize that there were goblins depending on her? He was tired of being in this oubliette all alone.
...all alone with no cask of ale...
...all alone with no one to talk to...
Feedle blinked and straightened abruptly, looking carefully around the oubliette.
...all alone with no one to know...
He grinned.
Throwing back his head, he shrieked, "Gibbergeist! The words! The words! She's finally said the words!"
To be continued...
Thank you to everyone who responded - I needed the push to get back on a writing regimen.
And thank you to everyone who has sent me birthday wishes. They mean more to me than you can imagine, and I'm honored that you're my friends.
I'm going to spam your friends' pages by posting again later tonight, so I'll apologize in advance for that. ;) Now, on with the drabbles...
ETA: I was so concerned with getting the coding right that I forgot one very important thing: Thanks much to knight0fswords and shadowycat for beta-ing these for me on very short notice.
For amberdiceless - Harry Potter Request: SS/MM - friendship/romance, humor, house rivalry and/or insight into their relationship, no porn
Minerva knocked firmly on the door to Snape's private quarters and waited with mingled impatience and dread. Finally, it was wrenched open and Severus stood in the doorway, glowering at her.
"Here to gloat?" he snapped. "Did you think you'd come down here to flaunt your House Cup win?"
Minerva rolled her eyes. "You know better than that."
She didn't wait for an invitation, she simply pushed past him and entered his rooms. With the ease of long familiarity, she walked straight to his drinks cabinet and poured out two glasses of whiskey. They both needed a drink after the events of the night.
As the amber liquid filled the glasses, she mentally girded her loins and counted one, two, three--
Right on schedule, Severus exploded behind her.
"The Headmaster expects me to convince those children that prejudice against Muggleborns and half-bloods is unacceptable and then he does something like this?" he snarled. "He demoralised Slytherin House tonight, Minerva. He took away the House Cup and handed it to Harry Potter for no other reason than that he could."
Minerva sighed. There was no defending this. As soon as the Leaving Feast had ended, she'd vehemently protested to Albus, but to no avail. Albus was too determined to put right all those years of neglect. His guilt over leaving Harry with the Dursleys' ran far too deep and had blinded him to the possible repercussions.
She turned back to Severus and handed him a glass of liquor. "I'm not going to try to justify his actions. It was unfair. But surely you know why Albus did this."
"What I know, Minerva, is that it's James Potter all over again! No matter how many rules that boy breaks, no matter how recklessly he acts, he'll be rewarded at my expense. Some things never change."
Minerva winced inwardly at the bitter tone that filled Severus' voice. She'd been afraid of this.
"I hope Albus thought it was worth it," Severus continued. "He made an enemy tonight of every child in Slytherin."
Minerva nodded wearily. It was only to be expected.
She sat in one of the pair of chairs in front of the fire and sipped her drink. Severus began to pace a tight path in front of her, the worn nap of the rug revealing just how often this occurred.
"You didn't help, you know." His words were abruptly thrown out like a gauntlet. "You broke the rules for the boy, too. His own broom, Minerva? Would you care to explain where that Nimbus Two Thousand came from, as if I can't guess?"
Shame stabbed at her and she stared down in to the whiskey. "I apologise," she finally said, firmly. "That was wrong of me to do. I let my desire to win overcome everything else. Which is, as you've pointed out to me on more than one occasion, "what Gryffindors do". That's why Gryffindors need Slytherins as friends. You balance us out, rein us in."
He stopped dead in his tracks and then shook his head in defeat. He wearily sank into the chair next to her and took a long drink of whiskey.
"What do we do then?" he asked. "You know the preferential treatment will continue. This is just the beginning."
Minerva reached out and placed her hand on his arm. "We'll work together, Severus, as best we can. That's all that any of us can do."
"Will it be enough?" He didn't look at her; he simply cradled the whiskey glass in his palms and stared into the fire.
"I don't know," was all the reply she could give him.
For angharad04 - Harry Potter Request: A nice little romance for Professor Sprout
When Pomona Sprout had received Mr. Ollivander's letter, she'd been intrigued. Producing stronger wand wood by cultivating a selection of trees cared for in a magical environment by magical children was a very interesting idea.
Over the next few weeks, he travelled often to Hogwarts to discuss the details of the project with her, and they talked about which types of trees should be planted, how many wands could be reliably produced from a single tree (not nearly as many as she had assumed,) and whether staking the trees would be beneficial or harmful to their ultimate goal. Finally, a plan was developed. He selected the trees that he thought would fare best, and the planting began.
There were times when Mr. Ollivander looked at her with a peculiar glean in his eyes and Pomona wondered if perhaps he was interested in more than a business relationship, but she always quickly chided herself. She was being fanciful, nothing more. She was an old woman. No point in having those hopes any longer.
One evening, as they walked through Greenhouse Three, examining the tiny seedlings in their little pots, they encountered one of Pomona's Hufflepuffs. Owen Cauldwell was pacing furiously and muttering to himself.
Pomona and Ollivander exchanged glances before Ollivander diplomatically retreated a few steps to allow Pomona to speak to the boy in relative privacy.
"Mr. Cauldwell," Pomona said, "is something wrong?"
Startled, the boy turned and flushed at being discovered. "No, ma'am. Noth-- Nothing's wrong," he stammered.
"Are you quite certain? You appear to be somewhat agitated."
"Well... It's... It's just that I want Eleanor Branstone to sit with me at dinner and I don't know how to ask her," Cauldwell blurted out. "Ernie MacMillan said that I shouldn't ask her at all, to just sit next to her and that would be that, but I really think that I should say something to her. Don't you?" The look on Cauldwell's face was a blend of hope and desperation.
"Yes, I agree that you should ask her," Pomona answered gravely. "It would be the polite thing to do."
"But what should I say? Every time that I even think about asking her, I get nervous and my hands go all sweaty." The boy held up his palms, as if to demonstrate.
Pomona suppressed a smile. "In my experience, Mr. Cauldwell, young ladies appreciate a gentleman who treats them with respect. I suggest saying, "Would you do me the honour of attending dinner with me tonight? That demonstrates both your respect and good manners."
Cauldwell cast her a doubtful look. "Are you sure?"
"Oh, yes. I was young once, as difficult as that may be to believe. I'm certain that she'll answer that she would be delighted."
"You think?" The boy took a shuddering breath and chewed on his bottom lip thoughtfully. "Okay, I'll give it a try."
Pomona nodded. "Good luck, Mr. Cauldwell."
When the boy had left, Ollivander returned to Pomona's side and smiled wryly. "I couldn't help but overhear. You should have warned him that it doesn't change, no matter how old you become."
"What doesn't?" she asked, puzzled.
"Sweaty palms," he said, holding up his hands.
She blinked in surprise at the slight sheen of moisture there. Bemused, she looked up into his face.
With a determined expression, he said, "Pomona, would you do me the honour of attending dinner with me tonight?"
Her heart leapt into her throat and she smiled slowly. "I'd be delighted."
For bakapikananoda - Harry Potter Request: Snape/Granger humor - with a bar of soap, no smut
Hermione sighed and relaxed against Severus. The heat of the water and the steam gathered in the small bathroom combined to make her feel positively languid.
"Oh, I needed this," she murmured. "What a lovely idea to have a bath together."
His low voice rumbled in her ear, soothing and yet simultaneously teasing. "Is teaching Arithmancy not as easy as you'd thought?"
She snorted softly. "I never thought it would be easy, but I didn't realise that it was so tiring."
"I did try to tell you. It's the sheer repetition that I find draining. It's as if I'm repeatedly trying to stuff knowledge into the head of a Jarvey," he said, lightly massaging her shoulders. "The best you can hope for is that eventually they'll parrot it back to you properly amidst the insults."
After a moment, Hermione smiled smugly when she felt Severus shift and his hands slid down her sides and then around to skim along the outside of her thighs. They'd been married for over a year and whilst her mother had warned her that intense passion inevitably waned, she'd seen no sign of it yet. Severus was every bit as amorous today as he'd been on the day they married.
Hermione snuggled a bit closer to him, and his fingers slipped under her thighs. She obligingly parted her legs in expectation.
His hands slowly moved back and forth, the tips of his fingers grazing against her flesh and she shivered in anticipation, arching her back slightly.
"Lift up a bit," he murmured.
Her smile widened and she raised her body up, allowing him to slide his hands under her. But when only the backs of his hands brushed against her arse and then continued moving, she frowned.
"Severus, what are you doing?" she demanded.
"I'm looking for the soap." His tone was unapologetic. "I think you're sitting on it."
She splashed back down into the water abruptly. "Oh, god, I hate it when my mother is right," she muttered.
For edanielrya - X-Men Request: Logan/Rogue, with a hopeful ending. Doesn't have to be happy, but I could use some light at the end of the tunnel.
Author's Note: This is strictly movie based and AU. I apologize in advance for any damage I do to the X-Men universe.
The first month after Jean's death, Rogue went to find Logan each night. He obviously didn't want to talk and so they didn't. She sat near him, silently reading or filling in a crossword puzzle while he stared at the television and drank beer.
"Logan needs me right now," Rogue whispered, and Bobby understood and didn't press her to spend time with him. All wasn't right with the world, but he knew that Rogue was determined to patch it back together with little more than spit and glue.
The second month after Jean's death, Rogue tried talking to Logan. He rarely answered, but he listened. She'd fill the silence with chatter about what was going on in the mansion, about how Kitty wanted to attend MIT, and that Jubilee had painted her fingernails bright green, and how Kurt was teaching Ororo to speak German.
Bobby's smile had started to become strained, and he began asking when things would go back to normal.
Rogue shook her head and said, "I don't know, but Logan needs me. You understand, don't you?"
Bobby hesitated, but he nodded, and Rogue went back to trying to repair the cracks in the world.
The third month after Jean's death, Rogue pulled out a deck of cards and challenged Logan to a game of gin rummy. He blinked at her in surprise, but picked up his cards and played. He beat her five games out of six that first night, but she teasingly promised to get revenge. When she did get that revenge, she was thrilled that Logan smiled at her briefly.
Rogue went to tell Bobby, but he was busy training and didn't have time to talk. She shrugged it off, simply happy that a few of the patches seemed to be holding and that the world was slowly starting to right itself once again.
The fourth month after Jean's death, Rogue woke up to find an envelope slipped under her door. It contained Logan's dog tags and a note that read I'll come back for these. Take care of yourself.
Rogue was in tears when she found Bobby, but she was stunned by his remote attitude. When Bobby flatly told her that he was glad that Logan was gone, Rogue was furious. She'd thought that Bobby understood.
Bobby answered that he understood things just fine, and he walked away without a backward glance.
As everything splintered again, Rogue realized that the only world she'd managed to patch together was Logan's.
One year after Jean's death, Logan returned to the mansion. He found that Rogue had graduated from Ororo's high school classes and had joined the team. He also found that Rogue and Bobby were coolly polite to each another but nothing more, and Logan wondered what had shattered that relationship.
He tried talking to Rogue, but somewhere along the way she'd developed a smart mouth and a tough façade. Logan knew that there had been some difficult missions while he was gone, but that didn't explain why Rogue had become so brittle.
He told himself that Rogue was a little girl who'd been through hard times and some changes were to be expected, but a small voice in the back of his mind pointed out that the little girl who stowed away in his trailer was long gone, replaced by a grown woman. Logan resolutely pushed that voice away; that was something he didn't need to think about.
Sitting alone one night, staring unseeing at the night sky, Logan admitted to himself that he had failed Rogue, but he didn't know how to fix things. She hadn't offered the dog tags back, though, and he hadn't asked her for them. There was hope there. If only he could figure out how to repair the damage.
He tried just sitting with her, giving her the opportunity to talk to him, but Rogue remained silent. Then Logan tried talking to her. Not about anything in particular, just rambling tales of where he'd been and what he'd seen. Rogue rarely answered, but he felt encouraged when she tilted her head and listened.
Finally, Logan broke out a deck of cards and dealt a hand of gin rummy. She hesitated, but picked up her cards, and they began to play. When he told Rogue that he was leaving soon, her eyes went blank for an instant and flashed in rage. She swept the cards from the table with one gloved hand and stood there glaring at him.
"Why tell me?" she spat out. "Just leave like you did before." Rogue ripped the dog tags from around her neck and tossed them at his feet. "Jean died and you left. It wasn't hard to figure out that she was the only one who was important to you. Why should you make an announcement now?"
Rogue was on her feet and headed toward the door when he caught her. He grabbed her arms, swinging her around to face him, and pushed her against the wall.
"Jean's dead and I came back," he snapped. "What does that tell you?"
He took a step closer and leaned into Rogue to hold her in place. For a split second, she went utterly still, and then he felt her shiver. The awareness of her that had been hiding in the back of his mind broke free, and the world shuddered as everything between them shifted.
"When I leave, I want you to come with me," he said.
"I'm not a little girl anymore, Logan." Rogue was still trying to be defiant, but here was a plaintive note in her voice now.
In answer, he deliberately pressed against her more fully. "I'm aware of that."
He drew back slightly and Rogue searched his eyes for a long moment before she finally said, "All right. I'll go with you."
Logan nodded once, satisfied. All still wasn't right with the world, but for the time being, the patches were holding.
For eloisasnape - Harry Potter Request: Snape/Mrs Granger
"More tea?" Anne Granger asked. "I'm sorry that my husband has been delayed, but there was an emergency at the office."
The woman who had introduced herself as Minerva McGonagall accepted another cup of tea, but the man -- Severus Snape -- declined. Anne wasn't surprised. It was painfully obvious that the man (wizard?) didn't want to be here in her home at all, but he had immediately captured Anne's attention.
He wasn't handsome. He wasn't even conventionally attractive. In fact, everything taken separately, Severus Snape was an unappealing man. He needed a decent shampoo; whatever he was using was completely inappropriate for his hair. He could also use a good dose of fresh air and sunlight. And his teeth... Well, the less said about those, the better, but she could fix those, given half a chance. Yet there was still something oddly compelling about him. He exuded an aura of forbidden knowledge... As if he knew all sorts of deliciously dark secrets.
His black eyes suddenly locked with hers and an expression of sly amusement flashed across his face. The breath was driven from her lungs. He knew. Oh, god. Somehow, he knew she was attracted to him.
Anne quickly glanced away, but she could feel the blush rising in her cheeks.
Professor McGonagall shifted slightly on the floral patterned sofa. "Mrs. Granger, as your husband has been detained, perhaps it would be best if we were to return at a later time? While the Ministry has already sent someone round to discuss the repercussions of Hermione's magical abilities, we would like to discuss her entrance into Hogwarts with the both of her parents."
"Yes, of course," Anne answered, her mouth suddenly dry. "I suppose that would be for the best."
"Is there a particular time in which we should return?" For the first time since their brief introduction, Professor Snape spoke. His voice was like black satin sliding over her senses and Anne had to fight the impulse to close her eyes and just listen to him speak.
A germ of an idea flashed through her mind and she took a deep breath. "As I said, Hermione is away visiting my mother. I'll be here alone all day tomorrow, but my husband should be home after 5:00 p.m." Anne placed a subtle emphasis on the word alone. "Perhaps you could both return then?"
Even as Professor McGonagall nodded her agreement, Anne could see Professor Snape's knowing smirk.
Yes... He'd understood.
Now all Anne had to do was wait. Tomorrow morning she would know if Severus Snape had accepted her private invitation.
For erised1810 - Harry Potter Request: Albus Dumbledore. Minerva being sorted and seeing Albus' reaction
Albus Dumbledore took his seat at the Head Table, nodding a greeting to the other Professors and to Headmaster Dippet. He took a sip of pumpkin juice and glanced around the Great Hall at the students gathered around their house tables.
This was to be his first Sorting Ceremony from the perspective of a Professor. He smiled to himself. Who would have thought that he'd be back here at Hogwarts after all these years? His smile faded a bit as he considered the reason he'd returned.
Dark forces were stirring in the wizarding world. Grindelwald's rhetoric was disturbing, and while Grindelwald was being dismissed as a lunatic by some, Albus had no doubt that dangerous times were looming in their future if things didn't change. That was why he'd returned; he wanted to be in a position to influence the next generation of witches and wizards, and to guide them away from the Dark Arts.
The door to the Great Hall opened and the Deputy Headmaster led in the first year students. Albus fought to keep his expression neutral. They were so young. Looking at their bright faces made him feel very old and very tired, indeed.
In an effort to cheer his thoughts, he attempted to guess which of these students would be the leaders of their year. His gaze lingered here and there, finally coming to rest on a small dark-haired girl standing ramrod straight, her hands clasped behind her back and her chin tilted up, giving her a slightly stubborn air. Her, he decided. If the determined glint in her eye was any indication, she would be Head Girl in a few years.
Albus turned his attention back to the Deputy Head as he began calling out the children's names in alphabetical order, asking them to come forward to be sorted. Albus applauded politely as each child was placed in one of the four houses. He smiled when the little dark-haired girl took a step forward in anticipation of her name being called, and Albus leaned forward a bit in order to hear her name clearly.
The Deputy Head cleared his throat and said, "Minerva McGonagall."
Albus nodded to himself. He'd have to keep an eye on her. As the sorting hat shouted, "Gryffindor!" and she smiled in delight, Albus thought, Well, Minerva McGonagall, I'm going to expect great things from you.
For hawaii5063 - Harry Potter Request: Snarky but not evil Snape
Severus had begun to think that he'd managed to avoid it this year. He risked a quick glance at the clock on his desk -- 8:47 p.m. He'd never had one turn up after 9:00 p.m. Only a few more minutes...
He gave a resigned sigh when he heard the knock on his office door. He should have known better. Luck was never on his side. His fingers tightened on his quill and he barked out, "Enter."
Hermione Granger opened the door, and his perpetual frown deepened to a scowl. Good gods, not her. Whilst she was an annoying creature, he'd thought she was more sensible than this. She approached his desk with a tentative smile, and he quickly revised his opinion. Years of associating with Potter and Weasley had obviously left her as addlepated as the rest of them.
"Professor Snape, I'm hoping--" she began.
He didn't allow her to finish and fixed her with a venomous glare. "No, Miss Granger, absolutely not."
She blinked at him before trying again. "But, sir--"
He set aside his quill and raised a hand to stop her from speaking. "Let me save us both a great deal of time. Each year I hope that I might escape this idiocy, yet each year after the leaving feast, a half-witted girl turns up quivering with inappropriate passion and assuming that I might show the slightest interest in her."
Her mouth dropped open to gape at him, and he smirked for a moment before continuing.
"I am not the nicest of men, Miss Granger, but I have never harbored the desire, secret or otherwise, to debauch a schoolgirl, and that's exactly what you are: a schoolgirl. I don't care that you're legally of age. I don't care that you've taken your NEWTs. I don't care that the leaving feast is over and that you're no longer my student. Your fledgling foray into seduction is ludicrous, inappropriate, and unappreciated. In my eyes, you're nothing more than a silly little girl, and I'd sooner shag Sibyll Trelawney. Now get out."
He settled back in his chair and crossed his arms, waiting to see which of the two usual reactions he would receive from her. The bright flush of humiliation was always a popular choice, but bursting into tears ran a close second. Considering that Granger was an overachiever, odds were good for a combination of the two. He was surprised when her mouth snapped closed and her lips quivered as if she was suppressing a smile. Then she pulled a piece of parchment from the pocket of her robes.
"Actually, Professor," she said, her tone dry, "seduction is the furthest thing from my mind. I came here hoping that you'd sign this letter of recommendation. It's been suggested that anyone applying for a position with the Ministry have letters from all of their Professors."
It was his turn to blink at her. Oh, good gods, he could imagine it now -- she would immediately tell Potter and Weasley of his mistaken assumption, they would tell everyone else, and wouldn't they all share a good laugh at his expense?
"Get out," he snapped.
She frowned. "Does that mean that you won't sign my reference?"
"Get out." His tone went deadly.
"But it would only take a min--"
"Get out now!" he bellowed.
Granger huffed out an annoyed breath, turned on her heel and stomped out of his office. Yes, no doubt about it. She was on her way straight to Potter and Weasley.
Severus dropped his head in his hands. Surely it was 9:00 p.m. now? He'd go to his quarters, have a large glass of firewhiskey, and try to forget this day had ever happened.
He straightened and lifted his wand, preparing to slam his office door shut when he found himself looking into the hopeful eyes of Millicent Bulstrode who was standing awkwardly in his doorway.
Severus took a quick glance at the clock and stifled a groan. 8:58 p.m.
No, luck had never been on his side.
For ladymontgomery - Harry Potter Request: Lucius/Hermione, loosely connected to The Best Revenge
Author's Note: This is directly connected to The Best Revenge, a possible epilogue, if you will. ;)
Deciding which jewellery to buy for a paramour was a tricky business, Lucius mused as he approached Jurnigan's Jewellery Shop in Diagon Alley. Too fine and he would imply that he held the woman in higher regard than he did. Not fine enough and he would risk losing her favour. However, she was a delicious bit of pureblood fluff and he wasn't ready to relinquish his place in her bed just yet.
As Lucius entered the building, he was surprised to see two very familiar figures. Oh, my. He'd heard that they were seeing each other, of course, but he'd no idea that things were this serious. After all, there was only one reason that Severus Snape and Hermione Granger would be in a jeweller's shop perusing a tray of wedding rings.
Oh, this should be most amusing...
"Imagine meeting the two of you here," he called from the doorway. "And it appears that congratulations are in order. Have you set a date?"
Severus shot him an annoyed look and Hermione turned to look at Lucius.
"Good morning," she said politely. "Thank you, but we've not set a date yet. Soon, though."
Lucius crossed the room, waving away an anxious clerk, to stand beside Hermione. Best to keep her between the two of them, he thought, as he took in Snape's stormy countenance.
"Lucius," Severus snapped. "I'm sure you have important things to do and, as you can see, we're busy."
"Actually, there's nothing I'd enjoy more than helping you select a ring." He looked down and saw that only women's rings were being displayed.
"No matching wedding band for you, Severus?"
"There are potions that react badly to certain metals," Snape growled.
"Ah, of course." Lucius turned his attention back to the rings. "But these are hardly adequate. Jurnigan, go into the back and bring out the good jewellery."
"But I'm displaying what the gentleman asked to see--" Jurnigan started, but when Lucius narrowed his eyes, Jurnigan's mouth snapped shut. "Of course, Mr. Malfoy."
The shop owner scurried away quickly, disappearing into the back of the shop.
Severus' frown deepened.
Jurnigan returned with two more trays and, one after the other, these new rings found their way onto Hermione's finger. Diamonds, sapphires, emeralds, each more lavish than the last, until finally, she held up her hand and said, "I've made my decision."
Lucius took in the elaborate diamond and emerald ring on her finger, and he stifled a smirk at the pinched look around Snape's mouth. A teacher's salary was limited, and Lucius had no doubt that this ring was far out of Snape's price range.
But Lucius was surprised when Hermione removed the ornate ring from her finger and turned back to the original tray of jewellery. She lifted a plain gold band from the tray. "This is the one I want."
"Are you certain?" Both men spoke simultaneously, and then shot each other an annoyed glance. While Snape's voice held an undercurrent of relief, Lucius' sounded disbelieving.
"I'm positive," Hermione said and then her expression turned wistful. "Since I was a little girl, I'd hoped to have a wedding band like my mother's. I've always thought it was so beautiful and so elegant. This is the one that I want."
Severus nodded solemnly. "Then that's the ring you shall have."
Whilst Snape paid for the ring, Hermione turned back to Lucius.
"I suppose that I should thank you," she said in a low voice. "Severus would have always wondered if I might have preferred a different ring. Now that I've tried on every ring in the shop, he won't worry about that any longer."
Lucius snorted. "You never had any intention of considering a more expensive ring, did you?"
"Of course not." Hermione shook her head. "The ring is only a symbol. I don't need diamonds or sapphires. I already have the most important thing." She gave Snape a fond look.
Lucius frowned. Oh, really, this was so sweet that it was almost sickening. The most important thing, indeed. He barely refrained from rolling his eyes.
After Severus and Hermione left, a black velvet box safely tucked into Snape's pocket, Lucius glanced around the jewellery shop. For some reason, though, he'd lost his taste for selecting a trifle for his lover. Let the little pureblood tart do without. She already had plenty of jewellery.
For melisande88 - Harry Potter/Labyrinth Crossover Request: Non-fluffy crossover with Lucius/Sarah
Author's Note: Some time ago, I wrote a story called "Future Perfect" and while you don't have to read that story to understand this, I wrote this thinking that it would fit nicely into that universe.
Lucius had found her wandering alone in Diagon Alley. She'd immediately brightened at the sight of him, although he was certain that they'd never met. Tall, dark-haired and beautiful, Sarah had smiled slyly and told him that he reminded her of someone she used to know, but she'd declined to elaborate.
She claimed that she'd simply followed someone into The Leaky Cauldron and then through the entrance to Diagon Alley. Muggle repelling charms inevitably failed in her presence and she was completely undeterred by them. Even if she couldn't wield it, the magic that permeated this world reached out and embraced her, recognising her as having been marked by something or someone, and whilst she wasn't a witch, she'd obviously been touched by magic. It swirled around her like the heady scent of perfume, but she refused to explain its origin.
Lucius could have forced the explanation out of her, but... her air of mystery was infinitely more intriguing.
He kept Sarah well away from his other life. He would never leave Narcissa -- his standing in the community wouldn't allow that, nor did he truly wish it -- but he couldn't bring himself to give up Sarah, either. She was his darkest secret: Lucius Malfoy, pureblood and Death Eater, had taken a Muggle as a lover.
He leased an out-of-the-way cottage for Sarah and installed her there with a house elf to tend to her needs. She'd laughed and ignored the creature's name, insisting that it answer to Hoggle, and when she'd become entranced by a barn owl at Eeylops Emporium, Lucius had indulged her.
Sometimes, for his amusement, Sarah would act out scenes from an unfamiliar play, always taking the part of a princess searching for a stolen child. In the flickering candlelight of the cottage, there were moments when Lucius would have sworn that she was performing for the owl rather than for him. That's when he began to suspect that she wasn't quite sane.
She particularly enjoyed brushing his hair, and Lucius would sit on the bed, his head tipped back and eyes closed, almost purring in pleasure as she hummed under her breath and slowly drew the brush through his long blond hair.
Sarah was never afraid of him, even when was cruel to her. Oddly enough, she seemed to relish that sort of behaviour. Oh, not physical violence -- neither of them enjoyed that -- but she blossomed in the face of cutting wit and harsh disdain, and it was during the moments when his words were the harshest and his tone the most biting that she would begin to lose control. It was then that she would come closest revealing her secret. Those moments were the ones when she would almost call him by another name. Her lips would begin forming the first syllable, but she always caught herself at the last instant.
It was a simple dance that led to her undoing. Lucius purchased a gilded music box for her -- a trifle, really -- and had waltzed her around the room, eventually pulling her down onto the bed with him.
During her climax, she'd screamed out a name and, surprised, he'd tried to pull back, but it was too late. His own orgasm had already started, and his back bowed and hips thrust forward, trying to bury himself as deeply as possible inside her. Pleasure slashed through him with a white-hot razor's edge and he slumped forward to catch his breath, uncaring if he crushed her.
The satisfaction at finally having a clue to her past was tempered by the surprising pain of hearing another man's name on her lips.
Lucius turned his head and whispered into the shell of her ear. "Who is Jareth?"
For pandora_nervosa - Harry Potter Request: Snape/Granger - kink
Author's Note: I promised pandora_nervosa that I will finish this up with a longer fic. But I just can't write kink in approximately 500 words. ~sigh~
ETA: Special thanks to rachel_w for graciously looking over this for me.
It had been an accident, really. Early in their marriage, Severus had turned her over his knee when she'd playfully attempted to tickle him, and he'd administered a mock spanking. Her rather... enthusiastic reaction had surprised them both, although neither had commented on it at the time.
Later, Hermione decided it was because of her job with the Ministry. All day, people looked to her to make decisions for them, to tell them what to do. The luxury of leaving all that behind was far more arousing than she would have ever thought. And Severus had always taken particular pleasure in being in control. The combination was, perhaps, inevitable.
He was the first to make a direct overture. When she'd come home from the office and walked into their bedroom to change robes, Severus had grabbed her by the arms and spun her around, pressing her face-first into the wall.
When she realised that it was her husband and that she was in no danger, her heartbeat had begun to slow, and then it escalated again when he whispered into her ear.
"You'll do exactly as I tell you. Do you understand?"
Her eyes widened. Surely he didn't mean--
His hips pressed against her backside and she felt his erection plainly. "Do you understand?" he repeated.
"Yes," she replied with a gasp.
"Yes, what?" he snapped. "Don't make me repeat myself."
Hermione blinked. He was using his "teaching voice" and the sudden rush of wet heat between her legs was astonishing. It almost distracted her from his question.
She hazarded a guess. "Um, yes, sir?"
"Much better," he purred. "However, I prefer master."
That had been the beginning.
Now Hermione knelt in the centre of the bed, blindfolded, waiting for his instructions. She wasn't certain how long she'd been here; it could have been minutes or hours. He'd placed the blindfold on her and told her to wait until he returned. Finally, she heard the door to their bedroom open and the whisper of Severus' robes as he approached her.
A glass vial touched her lips and she detected the mingled fragrance of honey and rosemary overlaying other, deeper, scents.
"Drink," Severus said.
The liquid was still warm as he tipped the contents of the vial into her mouth. Had he just finished brewing this? She quivered as fiery warmth raced through her veins, and she gasped at the sudden increase of sensation. The texture of the bedcover was amplified to the point that she could feel each individual thread under her legs. A sensitising potion, she thought.
"Now, Hermione, pay close attention: I forbid you to climax without my permission," Severus asked.
She had only a moment to register the clear amusement in his voice before his hand slipped between her legs and the delicious torment began, driving all other thoughts from her mind.
Within minutes, she'd disobeyed her master, but she couldn't quite bring herself to care. She would be disciplined, of course, but that was part of the fun...
For spaztic_lassie - Harry Potter Request: Remus/Lily Angst
Remus should have known when the owl arrived bearing an invitation from James and Lily. Meet us at The Leaky Cauldron. We have a surprise for you. Sirius and Peter will be there, too, and we're all going into Muggle London for dinner. It will be our treat. No arguments!
When he arrived, he saw Sirius standing next to James, both of them laughing uproariously. Peter stood by Lily, carefully examining something on her left ring finger.
Her left ring finger...
They hadn't seen him yet and Remus ducked around a corner, slumping back against the wall in defeat. James and Lily were announcing their engagement.
We have a surprise for you... Well, really, what else could it have been? James and Lily had been a couple for the past ten months. It was inevitable, wasn't it?
He should have known this day would come, but it didn't stop the pain. Remus had loved Lily for years, always knowing that he didn't stand a chance. It was inconceivable to him that such a lovely, shining woman could ever return the feelings of a werewolf, and so he'd kept it secret.
Wearily, Remus forced himself to straighten and square his shoulders as he made a silent vow. No one would ever know; he'd take this secret to his grave.
He pasted a smile on his face and walked around the corner.
"Hello, everyone," he called.
"Remus! We've been waiting on you. Come and look. We were going to wait to surprise everyone over dinner, but Peter spotted it right away, so the game was up," James said with a grin.
Lily proudly held out her left hand and the engagement ring there glittered and flashed in the lamplight.
For a fraction of a second, Remus' smile faltered, and then he had it firmly back in place.
"I see congratulations are in order. I'm happy for you both," he answered.
Lily beamed, and James clapped him on the back; Peter grinned widely. Only Sirius shot him a sharp look, and Remus carefully avoided his eyes.
"Have you set a date yet?" Remus asked.
"No, not yet," Lily answered. "Soon, though. We see no point in waiting. You'll all be there, of course." She stepped close to Remus and placed her hand on his arm. "We'll pick a day that falls on the new moon, I promise," she whispered.
His throat felt tight. "You're always very thoughtful, Lily. James is a lucky man."
James laughed and nodded in agreement. "Of course, I am. The woman I love has agreed to marry me, my friends are with me, and the night is young. What more could anyone want?"
"What more, indeed?" Remus murmured as he watched his last dream slip away.
For shadowycat - Harry Potter Request: SS/MM - One gives the other a birthday present
Minerva flicked her wand and the door to her rooms opened. With another small gesture, the stack of birthday gifts that floated behind her obediently filed through the doorway and neatly arranged themselves on a nearby table.
Her co-workers had thrown a small party in the staff room, complete with party hats, cake, and presents, although she wasn't certain what she was going to do with the large tin of rock cakes that Hagrid had given her. Perhaps she could transfigure them into something else... A sculpture of some kind?
Severus Snape's voice filled the room. "Professor McGonagall. May I speak with you for a moment?"
Minerva smiled and turned to see his head floating amidst the brilliant green flames in her fireplace. He was always so circumspect. When they'd first become lovers over three years ago, they'd both agreed to keep their relationship completely private to avoid any complications. Strictly speaking, Minerva was Severus' supervisor. So far, they'd managed to keep their secret from everyone.
"It's safe, Severus. I'm alone."
In the next moment, he was stepping through the fireplace and into her quarters, dusting specks of ash from his clothing.
"The party lasted longer than I thought it would," he observed. "Flitwick, I suspect. Once he begins singing, it's difficult to get him to stop."
Minerva shook her head ruefully. "He's rather enthusiastic about that, isn't he?"
"And very loud for such a diminutive man," Snape added.
"You left early," she chided. "You missed the loudest bits."
"For which, I can only be thankful. At any rate, I preferred to give you your gift in a private setting." He took a plain glass bottle from his pocket and held it out to her. "Happy birthday, Minerva."
Puzzled, she took the bottle from his hand and held it to the light. Removing the lid, she found that the bottle was filled with a thick, creamy liquid. She took a cautious sniff, but smelled nothing. It was completely odorless.
She pursed her lips. "All right, Severus, what is it?"
"It's a skin cream," he said, folding his arms over his chest.
She drew back, slightly affronted. "I beg your pardon? I may be another year older, but are you implying that I need a moisturizing lotion?"
He snorted and shook his head. "Of course not. This is a very special type of skin cream. What do you think it smells of?" he asked.
"Nothing," she replied. "It has no odor."
"Are you certain?" He tilted his head. "Doesn't it smell of roses?"
She sniffed at the bottle again. "So it does," she exclaimed in surprise as the scent of roses wafted from the lotion.
"Or perhaps it smells of peaches, instead?" Severus asked, his lips twitching in amusement.
The scent of the lotion instantly changed and it now smelled of a freshly cut ripe peach.
Minerva smiled in delight. "It changes scent depending on what is specified. Oh, how lovely, Severus. Thank you so much."
"It does much more than that," he said. "Put some on your skin."
She complied, rubbing a small amount of the lotion into her hands, noting that the lotion left her skin with a silky feel.
He gave her a teasing look and lifted one of her hands to his lips, and his tongue flickered lightly against her fingertip. He released her hand. "It tastes of peaches now, as well." He raised one eyebrow. "And, Minerva, it can be safely applied to any number of places on your body. Places that are far more sensitive than your hands."
He dipped his finger into the lotion and smeared a bit on her neck. As he licked her skin clean, he began to unbutton her robes.
Her lips rounded in understanding, then she gave a smirk worthy of the Head of Slytherin. "This has a great deal of potential, but it's a terribly small bottle."
He raised his head. "I have four more bottles in my quarters."
She laughed and then her robes fell to the floor, and she was far too distracted to think about lotion.
For valis2 - Harry Potter Request: Happy Snape
As the four stretchers floated along behind him, Severus Snape decided that he felt happy for the first time in years. Well, why not? He certainly deserved some happiness. Oh, he'd been furious when he'd first regained consciousness. Those little brats had attacked him! But when he realized that Ron Weasley and -- strangely enough -- Granger's cat were lying unconscious nearby, fury had been replaced by instinctive fear. Where were the others? More importantly, where was Black and the werewolf? He knew that Lupin hadn't taken the Wolfsbane Potion, so there was no doubt that there was now a vicious dark creature running loose in the forest.
In the distance he'd heard Potter screaming, "Expecto Patronum" and he'd whirled around, looking toward the lake. Dark gliding motions against the full moon had caught his attention. Dementors, dozens of them.
He'd never admit it to anyone, but he'd hesitated for a moment. In all likelihood, if the Dementors didn't finish off Black and Potter, then the werewolf would, and so many debts would be settled. The temptation to wait had been incredible... But in the end, he'd known that he couldn't do it. He'd risked far too much protecting Potter to see it all go badly now. However, if the Dementors had already found Black then it was certainly nothing more than the bastard deserved.
Snape had conjured a stretcher for Weasley. He knew that the boy would slow him down, but he couldn't leave him here at the mercy of a werewolf or Dementors. No matter how annoying the boy was, he didn't deserve either fate.
As quickly as possible, Snape had finally reached the lake and found, to his immense relief, that the Dementors had retreated. Potter and Granger were lying crumpled on the ground, unconscious, as was Sirius Black.
Severus had relished the sight of his childhood nemesis lying incapacitated. It was more than he could have hoped for. Snape had bound the unconscious Black and then conjured three more stretchers. Keeping a wary eye out for the werewolf and the Dementors, he'd guided Black and the children toward the castle.
As he walked, Severus thought how pleased everyone would be to see him. Why, he was a hero. He'd captured Sirius Black and saved Potter in the bargain. The Ministry might even give him an Order of Merlin for this.
Severus imagined the Minister for Magic placing the medal around his neck as a cheering crowd applauded, and he smiled. He'd struggled and suffered for years, and now everything was falling neatly into place. Finally, everything was going his way, and there was nothing that anyone could do to change it.
For britstrat, dream_labyrinth, elfgirl, morwennac, samuraibutterfl, saxonny, and whitemunin - Labyrinth Request: Jareth and Sarah have have to end up together, something romantic, maybe a bit of fluff, no non-con, UST or seduction - no excessive schmoop or angst, smut/angst/torture/happy ending, but no evil Jareth, angst that turns into acceptance, some physical contact is okay, but no "fairy shit," Jareth/Sarah and the first kiss between them, dueling tongues and all that, please.
Author's Note: I will continue this either tomorrow or the next day, but this is the prelude to a longer story.
Feedle peered into the stolen crystal and yawned. He hated coming down to this oubliette; it gave him the shivers, it did. Everyday, it was the same old thing: watch the girl, watch the girl. He couldn't even remember which one of the other goblins had come up with this stupid idea. All he knew is that it was his turn to watch and if he didn't, then Gibbergeist would be angry and knock him away from the cask of ale all the rest of the week.
The little goblin sighed. The girl never said the words. Gibbergeist told him that she'd say them sooner or later. Well, it was later -- years and years later -- and she still hadn't. Now they'd have to give the King something else for his birthday. One year, they'd all been so certain that the girl would say the words that they'd waited until the last minute, and they'd had to give him a chicken for a present instead. It had been a nice plump brown hen, but His Majesty hadn't seemed very pleased by it.
Feedle scratched his long nose. It was the girl's fault, wasn't it? Her fault that he was stuck down here in this pokey little oubliette once a day with no lovely cask of ale and no one to talk to. Why wouldn't the girl just say the words? This was boring and goblins don't like being bored; everybody knew that.
Sarah took a sip of white wine and looked out the window into the dreary, rainy night. How had she managed to screw up her life so completely?
Earlier that evening, she'd opened the newspaper and learned that her ex-husband was remarrying. While Sarah didn't begrudge Tim his happiness, envy had still sliced through her at the joy shining on the faces of the betrothed couple. She'd never been that happy. Instead, she had been good. For ten years, she'd been so good that sometimes she thought she would choke on it.
At fifteen, she'd returned from her trip through the labyrinth and her encounter with its charismatic king, determined to be a good sister and daughter. She'd been determined to obliterate the mark that he had left on her. Oh, it wasn't visible, but she'd known that he'd marked her just the same, and she wasn't going to let him get away with it. She was determined to have a real life. So she'd put away her childish things and diligently focused on her studies. After graduating from high school, there'd been college and -- her one concession to her youthful dreams -- a degree in theater arts. She gone to the obligatory parties, dated, and then married.
Her greatest triumph, however, had been systematically erasing the phrase "I wish" from her vocabulary and from her mind.
It had been difficult -- so many hopes and dreams were woven into those words, but she'd never allowed herself to utter them again. It was harder not to dream them, but she constantly struggled against allowing them to form even there. After all, it was better to be safe than sorry.
Sarah took another sip of wine and grimaced. Well, I was safe. And now I'm sorry. Her marriage had been a colossal mistake. Of course, it wasn't Tim's fault that it hadn't worked out. Especially since she'd selected him primarily because he was the complete antithesis of... him.
Tim was dark and stocky and solid and sensible -- everything she thought she should want in a husband. It was no wonder that she'd been miserable. After all, what she should want and what she did want were such very different things.
Tim had tried hard to make everything right and, for a while, Sarah had tried, too. But after twenty-one months of pretending that they were going to make it, she'd finally given up and filed for divorce. Before Tim had left, he'd wanted to know if there was another man, and Sarah had quickly said no. While it was the strict truth, she probably would have been more convincing if she'd been able to meet his eyes.
Sarah had thought that she could grow to love Tim, but she hadn't, not really, and she'd married him for all the wrong reasons. Worse -- to her burning shame -- the rare occasions that she'd found physical satisfaction with him had been when she'd closed her eyes, frantic with frustration, and allowed her husband to melt away.
In her imagination, short brown hair lengthened and became silvery blond, the broader countenance narrowed into delicate features, and a somber gray gaze melted into an intense pair of mismatched eyes until the man moving inside her wasn't her husband at all, but another man entirely. Her release had always been found quickly on those occasions.
Idly, Sarah contemplated the raindrops sliding down the windowpane. Maybe it was time to admit the truth. He had marked her and nothing would change that. No matter what she did, no matter how hard she struggled, it would never be over. Not for her. He moved through her life like a ghost, never quite visible but always on the edges of her perception.
Once upon a time, he'd offered her everything she'd ever wanted and all he'd demanded in return was the one thing she couldn't sacrifice: Toby.
How ironic that only a few years later she'd been forced to do just that by a divorce court. Her father and stepmother's divorce and the subsequent fight for custody of Toby had been prolonged and antagonistic. While Sarah had managed to forge a tenuous friendship with Karen, it hadn't been strong enough to survive the acrimony of lawyer's visits and custody hearings.
A few weeks after Karen had won custody of Toby, she'd announced that she'd received a business promotion and was moving to California. Sarah had swallowed her pride and gone to the older woman to literally beg her to reconsider. The cost in flying Toby back and forth across the country would prevent easy visitation, but Karen refused to be swayed.
Toby and Karen lived in California now and -- just as Sarah had feared -- she rarely saw her little brother more than once a year. While she had talked to him often on the telephone, he had been so young when he'd left that his early memories of her were blurred and fading, and Sarah realized that she had become little more than a friendly voice on the telephone who sent presents through the mail.
Blinking back tears, she leaned her forehead against the cool glass of the windowpane and closed her eyes. She'd given up so much to keep Toby and she'd lost him anyway.
How different would her life be today if she'd chosen a different path? Could she have reasoned with the labyrinth's king? Would he have sent Toby back if she had agreed to stay in his stead? Or had those words at the end been nothing more than trickery, a deception used to entice a young girl into giving up her baby brother to a beautiful but ruthless king?
"I wish..." she whispered. "Oh, I wish..."
Feedle clutched the crystal tighter and held his breath, but the girl didn't continue. "I wish?" he hissed. "I wish? Is that it? Finish it, you stupid girl!" What was wrong with her? Didn't she realize that there were goblins depending on her? He was tired of being in this oubliette all alone.
...all alone with no cask of ale...
...all alone with no one to talk to...
Feedle blinked and straightened abruptly, looking carefully around the oubliette.
...all alone with no one to know...
He grinned.
Throwing back his head, he shrieked, "Gibbergeist! The words! The words! She's finally said the words!"
To be continued...