If anyone's interested, I got inspired to write a post-SHH Hannah piece the other day. You can find it by following the fake cut to my journal. Hope you like it. No offense to Orla or her Muggle; this is Hannah's pov, not mine.
I'm bopping along, surfing the internet looking for underwear for hubby for Christmas. I'm clicking along, underwear, underwear, underwear, Marcus Flint (wearing underwear), underwear...what?
My husband just went next door to help our neighbor with their computer. He came home clutching his 'payment', a chunk of leftover Thanksgiving stuffing. I asked him if he lived in Stoatshead Hill. He just rolled his eyes at me and muttered something about never knowing what I was talking about. Hee.