caeria

First off the snippet . . .

“Granger!”

 

She was speaking so fast that she was tripping over her words as she paced around the room, her arms swinging wildly as she gestured to make some point that only she was privy to.

               

“Granger,” he said again, letting his annoyance bled into his voice. Even that was not enough to disrupt her mad verbal rampage, although he couldn’t remember the last time any of his more volatile moods had any effect, good or bad, on her at all. 

 

Feeling as if he had no choice if he was ever to discover her point, and it did seem to be an important one from what he could tell, he resorted to the ultimate shock tactic.

 

“Hermione!”

 

As expected, she came to an abrupt standstill, mouth open and eyes wide as she blinked owlishly at him. He let one corner of his mouth curl up in amusement. She was positively quivering in place and the shock on her face was really quite satisfying. He’d have to remember to use her name more often in the future if the simple fact of his speaking it could overturn her so completely.

 

Reaching forward he tapped her jaw with his index finger. “Close your mouth, Hermione. It is singularly unattractive to see your tonsils.”

 

At his touch, her jaw snapped close though she was still staring with wide-eyed amazement at him. Yes, definitely must use her name more often.

 

“Now, Hermione,” – he couldn’t resist using that seemingly magic word one more time – “take a deep breath and begin at the beginning. Please refrain from babbling this time.”

(yes, a lot happened to get Severus and Hermione back to this point)


And now for the dream . . .

In the dream, me, and old lady, some guy, and a vampire (who looked remarkably like Spike from Buffy the Vampire Slayer) were on the run from some shady government types while we were searching for the vampire’s missing memories and for the reason we were being hunted. It all went back to the civilization’s civil war (not to be confused with the US civil war). So, the losing side had companies that were made up of a mix of vampires and humans. They fought as teams and the humans sort of acted as controllers for the vampires. However, during the last battle of the war something happened to the vampires and their memories of the battle were lost.   Time passes. The humans who were part of the company grew old, had kids, grandkids, etc. But suddenly, the new unified government is hunting down and killing the human descendents, any of the original humans still alive, and also killing off the vampires. 

In the dream, I’m the descendent of one of those humans and I’m tied/linked/something with the vampire because I’m the descendent of his original handler. And there has to be a handler. Not sure why or what for but the relationship was important and needed.  We are all on a quest of sorts to find the last battlefield (because it’s been hidden), discover who is killing off the vampires and humans and put a stop to it, all while evading the people hunting us. It all comes down to this battlefield and what really happened during that last battle (which ultimately lost the war).

But, because of whatever happened, my version of Spike can't remember where he'd fought and went down. So we had a third person with us, a very old lady who'd been a little girl during the battle. She had lived nearby and like him, had her memory affected and couldn’t remember where the battle had taken place. What she did remember was that afterwards, she'd sprinkled marigold seeds heads over the mass graves dug at the battle site. We were hiding out in this wilderness/old prairie field type areas looking for mass fields of wild growing marigolds as an identifier. 

Of course, that was when the alarm went off.  *sigh*  So, I've been told more than once that I have very detailed and odd dreams.  I think this is a bunch of hooey and other people out there have to have big production, Cecile B deMille type dreams. 

So what good dreams have you had lately?

-Caeria

Not HP related . . .

I always thought that Patrick Stewart would give good con. Boy, was I wrong.   I feel very disappointed.  *sigh*

Is anyone attending DragonCon in Atlanta this year?  I will be in attendance  -- because how can you miss hanging out with 40,000+ fellow geeks?   Just curious to see if anyone else will be going.

Loud banging on his door caused him to scowl. For one moment he thought Granger but quickly squashed the tumultuous feelings and thoughts the girl’s name conjured in him. Not Granger. Not Albus or Minerva either as they would have used the Floo connection.

 

Grumbling under his breath, he went to the door and pulled it open. Miranda Vector stood before him, one hand still upraised. 

 

“Took you long enough,” she said, storming past him into his quarters.

 

Reining in his temper, he fixed her with a glare. “It is 3:00 o’clock in the bloody morning and I did not invite you in.”

 

She made a rude noise that was more suited to a third year Gryffindor. “Like you were sleeping. I don’t think you’ve slept more than a few hours a night since I started teaching here.”

 

I used to sleep, came the thought but he shook it off. “I enjoyed your company better when you were as wary of me as the rest of the faculty.” He scowled when she looked pleased at the comment. “Why are you here?”

 

“Because you great bloody ponce, you’re going to die.”

 

He stared at her, neither amused nor impressed with her pronouncement. “Ravenclaws – always so dramatic when revealing their great truths.” Straightening up to his full height, he tried to herd her back towards the door. “You’ve delivered your great insight. Drama has been satisfied. If you will excuse me-“

 

“Drama?” she sputtered. “Did you not hear me? You are going to die.”

 

Reaching up, he dug his fingers into the bridge of his nose. “This is different how from what I already knew?”

 

"What?" she asked in shock.

 

He gave her a looked mixed with equal parts pity and disgust. Settling his control around him like a cloak, he forced a note of calmness into his voice. “You’ve known for months that the probabilities of my continued existence were in flux and minimal at best. The fact has vexed the Headmaster greatly. But this is nothing new, so I do not understand your distress.”

 

“Distress?” Vector repeated, staring at him in what looked to be shock. “Distress? Merlin’s balls, it’s no wonder you have no friends. You’ve got ice-water running through your veins. And don’t’ be raising that brow at me. I consider myself your friend.”

 

Both brows went up in astonishment at that pronouncement.

 

Not seeming to notice his hastily concealed surprise at her words, Vector continued on. “You’re vastly amusing, you know, even more so now that I know what you’re dealing with. And if you think I’m going to just sit by and let this happen, you’re out of your little Slytherin mind.”

 

As it seemed that she’d finally run out of steam, Severus debated on just body-binding her and putting her out the door, but his own curiosity finally won out.   “Do you have a point in all this blithering?”

 

She flashed a brilliant smile at him, to which he glared in return.  Is no one afraid of me any more?

On Tuesday, I will going away into the wilds of the Grand Canyon Parashant National Monument area with a backpack, water, tent and a notebook.  I will not be returning from the wilderness for two weeks.  There will be no computer acces, no cell service, and no work.  Hell, I won't even have toilet.  The plan is to hike, study rock art with the Park Service Archeologist and sit under the blue of the Arizona sky and write until I can't write anymore.  To tide you over until I get back and can post the next chapter, I present you with a small taste of chapter 36.  (36 chapters -- good god, I'm 30 chapters and 4 years past my original timeline)    -Caeria

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"Hermione!"

 

Hearing her name yelled, Hermione turned searching the mass the students filling the hallway. Spotting Lavender, she headed over to the other girl.

 

"Lavender."

 

"I had to go back up to the room after breakfast and get a book I left behind."

 

Hermione, hoping Lavender would hurry up nodded, not understanding exactly what any of this had to do with her.

 

Lavender gave her an odd look and then said, "I just thought you know that there were a bunch of weird noises coming from behind your bed curtains."

 

"Weird? What kind of weird?"

 

"Crying and loud snuffling sounds."

 

A bolt of worry shot through Hermione, only one individual would be in her bed at this hour. Rink. Reaching out she gave Lavender's arm a squeeze. "Thanks Lavender." She was already headed in the direction of Gryffindor before Lavender got out her reply.

 

Once past the crush of students, Hermione took off in a fast walk. She knew Severus would probably have been called last night and that coupled with the black look he'd sent her at breakfast had her fears working overtime. Somewhere on the second floor the walk became more of a trot. By the time she was headed up the girls' dormitory stairs, Hermione was running. Dropping her book bag as she came through the bedroom door, Hermione skidded to a stop. Very clearly through the drawn bed curtain came the soft sound of Rink's keen of misery.

 

Hermione flung back the bed curtains and felt the bottom drop out from beneath her. Rink huddled in the middle of her bed, large fat tears rolling down his face, while his ear were folded flat against his head in elvish distress. Puddled around Rink's legs were the sheets she'd made for Snape.

 

"Rink?" she questioned, although she already knew.

 

Rink held up the sheets in reply. Hermione had no problem discerning the large rip that traversed the bottom sheet. 

 

She closed her eyes for a moment and then snapped them open. Climbing up onto the bed, she pulled the bed curtains closed and with a flick of her wand set the silencing spell. Settling herself cross-legged in front of the house-elf, she gently took hold of his hands and disentangled him from the sheets.

 

"Hey, it's okay. Tell me what happened."

 

Rink gave a great snuffling sound and wiped away another tear with the heel of his hand. "Rink doesn't know what happened. Early Master of Potions called Rink. Master was angry. When Rink appeared Master said . . . Master said . . . ."

 

"What did he say, Rink?"

 

Rink made another of those great shuddering sobs. "Master said that he no longer required Rink's s-services."

 

Hermione felt her stomach clench. "Rink, did Professor Snape give you clothes?"

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Yeah, that ought to get the Rink fangirls screaming.  :-)  -C

I know some of you guys watch this space for updates.  So here is the long awaited updated:  I have finally (FINALLY!) sent chapter 35 off to the betas.  It is, as we speak (type?) in their hands. . . or at least in their computer inboxes. 

Everyone keep their fingers crossed because this chapter has seriously kicked my ass. 

-Caeria

You guys were getting worried?  No need.  Just a bout of writer's block.  I find that if you hit your head against the wall enough times, eventually the bricks give away.  Of course, you end up with one killer headache.  :-)   So, new snippet.  No Rink.  No Hermione but we have Albus POV and Severus.  -C

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Albus felt the castle’s wards jump the minute Severus ordered the guardian gargoyle aside.   He wasn’t quite sure how he always knew when Severus interacted with the school’s wards but he did, even if most of the other teachers and students were just the vague impression of someone being there. He had always marveled at how well those wards recognized the other man, even occasionally letting him know the emotional state of his Potions master. It was, he’d concluded after long contemplation, as if the castle liked Severus, an idea and occurrence that never failed to amuse Albus.

 

Tonight there was no amusement. The castle wards tied to his magic snapped and sizzled along Albus’ senses. Severus was agitated and that agitation was being conveyed quite strongly. He conjured a small teapot and two cups and waited.

 

Severus entered quickly, the door abruptly thrust open. Severus' teaching robes swirled around him as Severus fell into pacing in front of Albus’ long desk. But for that pacing and the wards insistence, Albus would not have known that Severus was troubled. The man’s expression was a smooth mask of indifference, his posture was erect, neither hunched nor belligerent, and his hands, the usual tell-tale markers of Severus’ mood, were clasped tightly behind his back rather than furled into fists at his side. 

 

“Severus, is everything-“

 

“Everything is as expected, Headmaster.” 

 

The words were curt, but no more or less than what Albus usually expected from the other man. The wards once again rolled across his nerves, causing him to stiffen in his chair. Giving a thought to pushy castles, he asked, “Expected?”

 

“Expected. The Dark Lord has his hands firmly around the throat of the wizarding world, the Order – what remains of it – is practically in hiding, Lupin is . . . dead.”

 

Albus noted the almost imperceptible hesitation before Severus pronounced Lupin’s demise. Unsure of Severus’ mood, he started cautiously, “Remus was-”

 

“I never thought that I would outlive the wolf.” 

 

It was said dispassionately, like another would comment on the fact that it was raining. With those words, the jangling at his magical senses fell silent, leaving him reeling in the quiet. Without the added benefit of the castle’s magic, Albus was left with the impenetrable wall of Severus’ emotional defenses. 

 

Albus indicated one of the chairs in front of his desk. “Severus, sit. You are making me dizzy.”

 

Only when he was situated in his usual chair did Albus float Severus a cup of tea. He was concerned when the other man sat rigid instead of sinking into his usual boneless slump. Something was very much wrong with his Potions master.

 

They sat quietly, each sipping from their cups, until the taunt line of Severus’ shoulders eased just a fraction. “Severus?”

 

The shoulders softened a fraction more. “I find myself . . . troubled.”

 

Albus felt a bolt of fear go through him at Severus’ words. All my plans . . . . 

 

Severus kept speaking, unaware of his affect on the headmaster. “I have known the course of my life from the moment I took the Mark. I have not wanted anything beyond retribution and repentance.” He stared down into the bowl of his cup as if he saw his future laid out in the tea leaves. “I have not asked for . . .” He stopped and shook his head. “I have not wanted . . .” His voiced trailed off into silence.

 

“What is it that you want, Severus?” Albus asked softly, his own fingers tight around the handle of his cup.

 

Severus finally looked up and stared at him for a long measured moment, though Albus wasn’t sure the man really saw him or not. Then the uncharacteristically easily read confusion that had briefly reflected in Severus’ eyes was gone, to be replaced with nothing but mirrored black.

 

Standing abruptly he placed his tea cup on Albus’ desk. “Forgive me, Albus. I find that there are things I must attend to.”

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There was Hermione before this scene though.  :-)   -C

The plan is to have this next chapter sent off to the betas by next Friday (16 Jan) because I'm moving on Saturday and could potentially be computerless for a few days.  Oh the horror!  And just so you know, I can't wait to spring this next chapter on you guys.  I'm fully expecting it to knock your socks off . . . in an evil and demented sort of way.   -C

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The man known as Devrom Dollort winked at the pretty young witch stationed outside his office door, pleased when she blushed at his attention. “Ah, Marantha, diligently guarding the inner sanctum, I see. How’s everything this afternoon?”

 

Marantha blushed and smiled at her new boss. “Everything’s good, sir. Your two o’clock is already here and waiting for you inside, and Mr Latimer from Law Enforcement confirmed that two thirty this afternoon is good for him.”

 

“Excellent, my dear.” Devrom graced her with a smile. “When Mr Latimer shows, please send him in. Until then, see that I’m not disturbed.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

Turning from his assistant, he went through the massive double doors of his office. The smiling, congenial mask of Devrom Dollort dropped the minute the doors closed and the silencing and privacy wards engaged. “Report,” he snapped, as he crossed the open space of the office. 

 

Thorfinn Rowle who’d been leaning against one of the leather club chairs facing the room’s oversized desk, leaped to his feet. “All active Portkeys have been repossessed, per your instructions. We currently have people watching for illegals. If Snape’s right about Dumbledore’s interference we should catch those using these mobile telephones” – he said the words slowly as if unsure of the pronunciations – “soon enough.” 

 

“Sit, Rowle.” He gestured to one of the chairs. “I am well pleased with the work you are doing for me.”

 

Rowle took his seat as Voldemort leaned back in his chair, hands clasped before him. “Muggles and Muggle-borns are a pox on our once-great society. Make no mistake, we will deal with their infestation, but do not waste significant resources there now. The Muggles were only a diversion. Our next phase of plans should be of paramount concern to us at the moment.” Leaning forward he fixed his eyes on Rowle. “We are at a critical junction, Rowle. It was here, at this point Dumbledore and his Order ruined my plans the last time. The same mistakes can not – will not – be made again.

 

The fevered light of the fanatic lit Rowle's eyes, much to Voldemort’s satisfaction. “No, sir. Nothing will stop your rise to prominence. You have my life, my Lord.”

 

“Good. What of the borders?”

 

“When Martial Law was instituted, the old wards under Ministry control were activated. Our people now control them.”  Rowle gave a toothy grin. “Once they were activated, all Apparation into or out of Great Britain came to a halt.”

 

“Excellent.   Over the next two weeks I want you to increase the attacks. Bella knows the targets. Coordinate your efforts with her. Once my new security measures are implemented, we’ll scale back the attacks. The population will assume that the security measures are working and be more amendable to further controls.”

 

“What about Dumbledore, my Lord?”

 

Voldemort chuckled. “You wish to attack Hogwarts?”

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Oh yeah.  It's going to be soooo evil.  -C

   

I’m hoping to send the new chapter off to the betas before Christmas (yes, in two days). However, as it is the holiday season, I’m not expecting the betas to do anything with it until they are done with their own celebrating or they are locked in a back room hiding out from the relatives.  -Caeria

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When Hermione reached the Room of Requirement for that day’s potion revision class, Agnes Worth was waiting in the corridor.

 

Hermione gave her a quick smile and then paced the required three times, thinking about what she needed the Room to provide her in way of the class. When the door appeared, she gestured Agnes inside. 

 

After the two of them had settled their belonging, Hermione wandered over to the other girl’s desk. “Worth, why are you here?”

 

Agnes gave her a somewhat startled look before starting to pull her ingredients out of her bag. “I’m here to practice, same as anybody.”

 

“I’ve seen your work.” Hermione said. “You don’t need the revision time.” 

 

“Maybe I’m here to spy on you.” 

 

Hermione couldn’t hold back her snort of amusement at the other girl’s slyly calculating tone. “Don’t make me laugh. I’m not that interesting.”

 

“Some might think you are. Muggle-born, clever, friend of Harry Potter. Some might think you’re very interesting.”

 

Hermione thought on this a moment while she watched Agnes set up her desk top.  Slytherin words games: riddles within riddles.  “Is that a warning or a threat, Agnes?” she asked, deliberately using the younger girl’s first name, against convention.

 

That earned her a quick grin. “Do you think all Slytherins are evil, Granger?” 

 

“No, I don’t.”

 

“Funny thing, I don’t think all Gryffindors are stupid.” Agnes gave another quick grin. “Well, not fundamentally stupid. Holding this class, amongst all the houses, that’s kind of stupid.”

 

Hermione gave a grin of her own. “I prefer to think of it as brave and the right thing to do.”

 

Agnes shrugged. “Stupid . . . brave. You still end up dead in the end.” 

 

“Which brings us back to why are you here, Agnes Worth of the House of Slytherin?”

 

“Could just as easily been Ravenclaw, or Hufflepuff . . . or even Gryffindor. Worths are old and as pureblooded as they come but we don’t breed true like most families. Sorting Hat doesn’t lie.” She shrugged again. “And I don’t bow to anyone.” 

 

“Sounds brave.” 

 

Agnes rolled her eyes, but a grin teased around her lips when she said, “Sounds stupid to me.”

 

“And somebody had to be first.” Hermione studied Agnes a moment longer. “How are your Defense skills and would you be interested in another revision class?”

 

A slow and rather sinister smile spread across Agnes’ face. “Now, we’re talking.”

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That's all.  -C

I'm flying to Vegas on Friday for an extra long weekend (it's the National Rodeo Finals, dontcha know).  The goal is to have this next chapter to the betas before I leave.   -C

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As his men spread out against the far wall, Auror Dawlish stepped further into the Great Hall until he came to the end of the Ravenclaw table. Climbing up onto one of the benches, he stepped onto the tabletop bringing him level with those seated up at the Head Table.

 

Hermione heard one Ravenclaw mutter “How rude!” the sound carrying in the too still room.

 

The action though had the effect of drawing everyone’s focused attention. Dawlish pulled a scroll out from the bag at his shoulder. Snapping it open, he began to read:

 

"By Order of Acting Minister Thicknesse, by the authority granted him by the Wizengamot on 15 October 19XX, the Ministry of Magic is declaring Martial Law. 

 

In accordance with this declaration, the following articles shall be enacted:

 

1)       Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is now under the control and protection of the Ministry of Magic.

 

2)       All wizarding citizens falling into one of the following cases (Orphans, Witches or Wizards with one Muggle parent, Witches or Wizards with two Muggle parents, or Witches or Wizards born of wizarding parents but residing within Muggle households) are hereby declared as wards of the Ministry of Magic and are now under the full protection and guardianship of the Ministry of Magic."  

 

Several whispered conversations sprung up around the Hall as students affected by the new declarations expressed their opinions.

 

“Those bastards!” Harry hissed under his breath. “You were right, Ron. This isn’t about protecting Hogwarts. This is about getting to me.”

 

“Easy mate. Don’t do anything rash. If you do, that gives them an excuse to take you.”

 

Harry’s hand twitched towards his wand. “They can try.  I’ll leave Hogwarts and go live in the wilderness before I become a puppet for the Ministry.”

 

“Get serious, Harry. No one is going to go live in the woods,” Hermione snapped.  “You think you’ll be able to survive on mushrooms and berries?”

 

For a split second it looked like Harry was about to lose his temper before he unexpectedly grinned at her. “If I run away to the woods, will you and Ron come with me? Someone needs to point out which mushrooms are edible.”

 

She grinned back at him as she smacked him playfully on the shoulder. “Git.”

 

“So, if we aren’t going to run away to the woods, what are we going to do about them?” he asked, gesturing towards the Aurors. “We need to know what they are doing and what they plan to do.”

 

“I may not be Fred or George, but just watch this.”   With that, Ron climbed to his feet. “Excuse me, Auror Dawlish.”

 

The Auror swung around towards the Gryffindor table, along with every other set of eyes in the Hall. Expressions ranging from shocked and worried to amused met Hermione’s gaze. She glanced up at the Headmaster again and thought she read something closely related to alarm there.  

 

Ron’s nose rose an inch into the air and his voice took on a supercilious and ingratiating whine. “Ronald Weasley here, sir. Head Boy. I think it’s wonderful that our Ministry is taking such a decisive stand to protect Hogwarts and my fellow students from the depravities being visited on the wizarding world by You-Know-Who and his followers.”

 

Ginny was staring at her brother like she’d never seen him before. 

 

Almost impossibly, Ron’s nose went even higher in the air. “While I certainly can’t speak for everyone,” – although his tone said that was exactly what he was doing – “as Head Boy this year, I’d like to offer my assistance. As you are no doubt aware from your own years at Hogwarts, the Head Boy and Girl supervise the designated Prefects in conducting rounds of the castle.”

 

Beside her, Harry whispered, “Oh my God, he channeling Percy.”

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The Rink fan-girls got their fix last time.  Ron needed a bit of the spotlight.  -C

And since I seem to be posting snippets, here is a new one.   -C

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Rink took one look at his second favorite human and disappeared back to the kitchens. Switching out the lemon biscuits on the plate he’d been carrying for double-chocolate chunk, he returned to Hermione’s four-poster bed. It had been his long experience that food cured many ills among humans and that chocolate was a particularly potent medicine, especially among the female population of the castle.

 

“I am in so much trouble,” the young miss moaned into her hands upon his return.

 

Trouble was serious indeed. Selecting one of the pillows that Miss kept for him, Rink settled down on the bed, knobby elbows to knobby knees. “Miss has broken something?”

 

“No.”

 

“Miss has touched something of the Master’s that has been forbidden.”

 

The young miss looked up at him through her fingers. “No,” she said with a laugh. “Nothing like that.” 

 

Grabbing one of the biscuits, she mirrored his pose. “What I’ve done is got myself way in over my head.”

 

Rink nodded although he wasn’t entirely sure what that meant or how it related to being in trouble. Trouble in his mind usually meant three things: something was broken, a given order was not carried out, or those in his care had come to harm.

 

“I need to spend some solid time with Harry and Ron this year. Harry needs me, even if he’ll never admit it. There’s work to do with S.N.O.R.T. I’ve just agreed to hold a Potions revision class that crosses four different years and includes a representative from every House. This is my N.E.W.T. year and I should already be revising and I haven’t even started yet. My Arithmancy project is literally do or die rather than pass or fail. The Dark Lord is probably going to attack sometime in the next twelve months and . . . and . . . .” She trailed off.

 

Humans really were quite strange. This is not what Rink would have considered trouble. However, in a gesture of friendship, since she was considered an honorary house-elf, Rink offered her some of his favorite punishments. 

 

“Would Miss like Rink to bring her an iron? Miss can iron her ears as punishment. Or Miss can stub her toes against every stair in Hogwarts.” Rink sat up straight. “Miss can slam fingers in Hogwarts’ front door. Rink would be honored to swing the door. Rink would take care to swing it very hard.”

 

Miss Hermione began making an odd noise and Rink was about to get worried when he realized that she was giggling. The sounds were muffled because she was biting the back of one of her knuckles. He gave an internal shrug. Not his preferred method of punishment, but he knew several house-elves who liked a good bite.

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Yes, I know, gratuitous house-elf scenes.   -C

I may actually post two chapters in the same month -- aren't you guys surprised.  New snippet for the next chapter.  If all goes well, said new chapter will be sent to the betas on Monday.  Just a bit of fluff this time that made me smile while I was writing it.  It was a choice between this snippet and one that was a bit angstier.  Fluff won.


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Severus sank down into his favorite chair. Albus was not in his office but Severus knew he’d be there soon enough. In the meantime, he sat, absorbing the smells – tea, ginger and lemon – and the sounds – the steady click and whirl of the many devices in the room – and let the tension flow out of him as he waited.

 

With a flutter of wings, Fawkes settled beside him on the arm of the chair, several long feathers drifting down to settle on the patterned rug.

 

“You are looking a bit bedraggled, bird.”

 

Fawkes tilted his head and regarded Severus with one onyx eye. He chirped softly with a note that sounded of reproach.

 

Severus harrumphed in mock annoyance.  “I am not Albus and will not bow to your vanity. You are at the beginning of your molt cycle and I will not flatter a bird that can not manage to keep his own feathers.”

 

Severus reached out and ran the back of one knuckle gently down Fawkes’ breast, his actions at odds with the acidity of his words. Several more feathers fluttered down at the touch. Fawkes made no protest, rather leaning into the caressing finger. Then he warbled a note, the tone rising, before he reached out his long neck and tugged on a lock of Snape’s lank hair. The phoenix settled back with smug cheep.

 

He almost laughed then.  Damn the bird for pointing out his own less than stellar plumage.  But laughing at this point would mean that Fawkes had won this round.  That would never do.  Drawing back from the bird he narrowed his eyes in menace. 

Fawkes dipped his head and gave a sharp click of his beak.

“At least I-”

 

Albus took that opportunity to sweep into the room from the far door, his eyes taking in the scene. “Severus, are you arguing with Fawkes again?”

 

Severus sat back and gave a disdainful sniff. “I do not argue with birds.”

 

Beside him, Fawkes stretched his wings and gave an equally disdainful trill before launching himself into the air to settle on his regular perch.

 

"Of course, not," Albus said with chuckle.  "Forgive me, the both of you."

The newest chapter of Pet Project is getting its final, finishing touches and I hope to have to sent off to the betas by the end of the week.  As incentive to me to keep going ('cause you guys, out of anyone, know how slow I truly am), I'm posting a new snippet.  I decided I kind of like these.  -C

++++++

Hermione looked around as they entered. Snape had imposed his personality, and Hermione realized to an extent, his chosen persona, upon the room already; it was gloomier than usual, as curtains had been drawn over the windows, and was lit by candlelight.  New pictures adorned the walls, many of them showing people who appeared to be in pain, sporting grisly injuries or strangely contorted body parts.  Nobody spoke as they settled down, looking around at the shadowy, gruesome pictures.[1]

 

Harry, Hermione noted with a pang, seemed particularly fascinated with the picture depicting the Killing Curse. Her skin prickled and crawled every time Harry’s eyes reflected the vile green flash. 

 

Unlike Potions class where Professor Snape stormed in from the back of the room after everyone was seated, Snape stood, legs braced and arms crossed across his chest, at the front of room.

 

Hermione cursed her own traitorous heart as it skipped a beat.  Ridiculous! You do not think he looks fierce and powerful, she firmly told herself as she took her seat.  He looks-  Now that she was really looking at him, she decided he looked tired. 

 

She had to wonder, was his wide-legged stance to make him look tall and commanding, or was it more it keep him from falling over? And how was he planning on carrying out being the Defence teacher when his magic was, for the most part, still out of his reach?

 

Snape continued to stare at them even after they were all seated.  In the seat in front of her, she saw the lean muscles across Harry’s shoulders tense as he shifted in his seat.  

 

Snape finally broke the tension building in the room. “You have the distinct, and rather dubious, honor of being the worst prepared Defence Against the Dark Arts students to ever face your final year at Hogwarts.”

 

That pronouncement set most of the Gryffindor’s backs up, especially those that had been part of Dumbledore’s Army.  Snape continued as if he were oblivious to the frowns and scowls of his students.

 

“You have, from your first year, been taught by a traitor, an idiot, a liar, an imposter, a toad and a fool.” 

 

Hermione ran down the list in her head, the traitor was Quirrell and she could see where he could have been considered a traitor by either side. The idiot was Lockheart and needed no further explanation. She wasn’t sure she agreed with Remus Lupin as a liar, even though he had, technically, withheld certain truths from them all – truths that could have saved a lot of heartache and trouble if he’d just explained to others what he knew and suspected. 

 

The imposter was Moody, of course.  A thought stsruck her:  Had Harry’s fall into the Dark Arts begun with those demonstrations of the Unforgivables? Had this been brewing that long?  Umbridge was the toad, and Hermione couldn’t say that she had much objection to that description of the horrid woman. Fool, though, she felt was a little strong for Professor Blevins. The poor wizard had tried, but being even older than Dumbledore, he’d had a rather appalling tendency to fall asleep during class. 

 

“It is my job” – Snape gave them all a small smirk – “and I assure you, my pleasure, to remedy that distressing lack in your education to date. 


[1] HBP, Ch 9, JKR

Short update . . .

The latest chapter of Pet Project has been sent off to the beta.  Keladry is, as we speak, trying to bring order to the chaos.  Send Happy Thoughts her way if you have a moment.

Mundungus42 has written me a kickass Sorting Hat song for this upcoming chapter.  I've read it about a dozen different times now and grin like a loon every time.  I even made my non-Harry Potter savy co-worker listen to me read it out loud. 

And, last but not least, I've finally submitted the last chapter to Ashwinder.  I'm lazy, what can I tell you.

-C

Confession time . . . I can't write poetry. 

I need a song (well, okay, I don't NEED, but would like) a Sorting Hat song for when our brave heroes and heroine return to Hogwarts for their Seventh Year in "Pet Project."  But that, of course, brings us to the whole "I don't do poetry" bit.  Is anyone interested in writing the Sorting Hat's song?  It would have to deal with the usual subjects of House unity, dark days ahead, the actual name of Voldemort, and the naming of Professor Snape as DADA professor. 

You get included in the story and have full credits attributed to you.  It doesn't have to be long either.  Anyone interested?

-C

Just because . . .


Oh, yeah, Professor Granger-Snape will be making a comeback.   -- C

I admit that I'm not the most technologically oriented individual.  This is rather ironic since I work in the IT industry.  My only saving grace is that in my workaday world I design processing systems that I then turn over to other people to build.  Thank God for programmers.

The point of all this, is that livejournal is conspiring to kill me . . . or, at least, drive me insane.  I keep trying to add some of the older stories.  I did add some of them.  It worked fine.  Then, I tried to add some more.  I did exactly the same thing.  I used the little [cut] button to create a cut and put the story behind the cut.  Does it work now?  No, it doesn't.  It adds a cut and then puts all the text below it.  

Arrrggghhhhh!!!

Technology hates me.  

Title: Innocence, part II
Author: Caeria
Fandom: Young Hercules
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Ares/Iolaus
Warnings:  Dubious consent issues and we really don't know exactly how young/old Iolaus is in the series.  Late teens is a rough guess.
Summary:  Iolaus makes a bargain with Strife and Ares to save Hercules.

Title: Innocence
Author: Caeria
Fandom: Young Hercules
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Ares/Iolaus
Warnings:  Dubious consent issues and we really don't know exactly how young/old Iolaus is in the series.  Late teens is a rough guess.
Summary:  Iolaus makes a bargain with Strife and Ares to save Hercules.

Another of the early works of fiction and also one of my early attempts at slash.  Boy, does it show.   As I was re-reading this for posting, I kept wonding where the lube was in the story.  Kind of a crucial detail to leave out.   How embarrassing . . . 

 DragonCon 2008 is coming up Labor Day weekend in Atlanta, GA.  I'll be floating around all weekend with stopovers in the Writer's Track, the Young Adult Reading track, and just about anything else that strikes my fancy.  If anyone else if going to the Con, I'd love to met up with you.  My DragonCon badge will read Caeria for easy identifcation.  I wish I could tell you to look for a specific costume . .  one of these years, I AM going to go to DragonCon in costume.

-Caeria