Chinese food without chopsticks (but with a fork instead) isn't chinese at all :( *sulking*

Who would think one needs chopsticks to feel sated? Then again, I don't enjoy tea out of a coffee-cup either, so .... is there some connection between chopsticks, cups, porcelaine and taste or is it just me complicating things too much? Ah, babbling. Need some good English tea. Or at least Japanese;)

I bought apples today at the market - the old man who sold them to me seemed like he just came out of the orchard, but ... I don't know, those poor apples tasted like something rotten or long forgotten in the cellar. Not to mention the blackberries - tasted like nothing at all with a bit of vinegar! Something wrong wih my taste buds or did we manage to destroy the fruit in general?

Oh, I love Giovanni Allevi's music! L'orologio degli dei (the clock of gods) is giving me goose bumps and making me want to scream "I love" to the world. Well, pathetic, yes, but you should listen to the song http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q_721aAuMlg&feature=related !

There's more to love: Prince Caspian - Ben Barnes, that is, wow, he's so hot;) well, especially slashed with Peter *giggles*.
But still, watching the movie I kept on thinking about ... you know, Harry Potter! And Snape, of course. Can't help myself. Anyway, gotta find a good Caspian/Peter fic - any suggestions?

I'm really funny with my LJ monologues, huh. Well, this is what you get if you only write it every blue moon.

Title: Finally
Author: enjambement22

receiver: achih
Rating: G
Word Count:  2.375
Pairing: Snape/Harry
Categories: Romance
Disclaimer: Not mine, just love them to much to leave them alone. Thank you for your patience, J.K.R.!
Summary: Harry has to find the courage to love.

Finally

Harry Potter was sitting in his kitchen at the Grimmauld place with his legs stretched comfortably on the kitchen table. His head was lulling from one side to the other in a drunken doze. His tea grew cold long ago, and the whisky was gone. Kreacher had left months ago for a mission Harry assigned him. Hermione was scolding him about it at first, but after a very intense quarrel which occoured on Harry's twentieth birthday, Harry furiously offered to show her the Pensieve. He hadn't waited for her while she was watching it, but gone back downstairs and gulped down half a bottle of the firewhisky Ron sent him through Hermione. When he went back to his room with the Pensieve, Hermione's face was wet with silent tears. “I am terribly sorry, Harry,” she whispered and reached for his hand to squeeze it hard. “I understand,” he said and took her downstairs where they drained the bottle and then went out for more.

The grimm old kitchen was silent, except for occasional sound somewhere between snoring and sobbing. It was around three in the morning when something broke the silence. A pop of elfin apparition. Kreacher was home. His tiny butler-like suit was now just a rag, and his huge eyes were red as ever. “Master Harry,” he said softly, tugging gently on Harry's dangling arm.

Harry woke and fell of the chair. His back hurt savagely and his bum was completely numb. “Kreacher!,” he shouted and hugged the Elf. Kreacher was smiling uncomfortably, but was clearly happy about Harry's lack of good manners. “Are you all right?,” he asked the Elf.

“Yes, thank you,” said Kreacher modestly. “How is master Harry?”

Harry realised his head hurt and his throat was dry. “Ugh, I drank too much.”

“You've found him?,” he asked non-commitaly after he drained a glass of water Kreacher conjured.

“Yes, master Harry.”

“Didn't we agree you'll stop calling me master?”

The eyes of the Elf darkened. “Kreacher is an honourable Elf, master Harry,” he said and took the empty glass to the sink. Harry couldn't help thinking of Brutus.

“So, where is he?,” asked Harry staring blankly after the Elf.

“Kreacher can take master Harry to his place, sir,” he offered eagerly, obviously prepared for apparition.

Harry recoiled at the sight of it. “You are tired! Go to sleep now, we'll talk in the morning.”

The Elf didn't compromise the order. They both went to their beds. Kreacher slept the sleep of an honourable Elf, and Harry slept the sleep of a drunkard.

In the morning, he didn't have to Floo-call Hermione, for she was already at the door-step with a pair of french loaves smiling broadly: “Saturday brunch!”

Harry was still rubbing his eyes. “Where did you pick up these habits, woman?,” he asked her grumpily, but sniffed at the fresh bread with interest.

“You won't believe what happened yesterday!,” she exclaimed.

“I bet I won't,” he said with a small smile and placed the food on the kitchen table. “Kreacher, could you make some omelettes, please, and bring some strawberry jam.”

Hermione's grin turned to scowl: “Kreacher is here and you didn't tell me? Has he found anything?”

“He only came back tonight!,” said Harry defensively. “He said he's found him.”

“Oh, but that's brilliant!,” she said and squeezed both his hands. “Where is he? Is he all right? When are you going to go?”

Harry sat down heavily. “I don't know.”

Kreacher came and greeted the Muggle girl with fondness. “Kreacher, where is Professor Snape?,” she asked the Elf nervously.

“Master Snape is in Zavrsje. Very far. An old village, no one lives there. No Muggles, no Wizards, not a single Elf.”

“Thank you, Kreacher. And thanks for the omelettes, they smell fabulous! Harry.” She shook him. “Are you all right? Harry.”

He looked up at her with his almond shaped green eyes full of fear and confusion. “I don't know if I can do it at all.”

“We've been looking for him for two years, Harry, for Merlin's sake! I thought it was your life objective to find him! And now what? You don't know if you can ...,” she sat down and was quiet for a while. Then she looked at her friend and saw him gulping down his sobs. A flush of understanding mixed with guilt washed over her. “Oh Harry, I don't know why I reacted that way. I'm sorry. I keep forgetting .... what you said ... before your birthday ... ”

Harry burst into tears and Hermione hugged him tightly. “It's all right. Give it some time. I'm going to help you, if you want. We can go there together,” she kept talking in a soothing voice while Harry's body convulsed in her tight embrace.

“I spend half my life hating him furiously and then he dies in my arms giving me no reason to hate him anymore and I realize that the growing hatred wasn't real hatred but ... you know, and then his body disappears and I can't even say goodbye decently and I spend two fucking years looking for him, yearning for him and I even drag you and Ron and Luna around and without a clue to why I behave the way I do and oh my, I'm such a coward, Hermione!”

“'s all right. Don't worry about me and Ron. Give yourself some space ... Breathe ...”

*

“So, shall we?,” asked Hermione on a rather warm October day when she popped up on Harry's door-step.

“I ... don't know,” said Harry wearily and invited her in.

Hermione apprehensively watched him slouch into the dark of the house, and then followed.

“We could at least go for a walk, it's a beautiful day,” she offered after a few minutes of watching him fidget around the kitchen, not really knowing what he was trying to accomplish.

“Yeah, let's have a Fire-fly at The Three Broomsticks!,” he exclaimed as if it was a revelation of the century.

“Firewhisky hot chocolate? Again?,” asked Hermione rethorically and stood up, prepared for side-along Apparition.

*

“It's been two weeks, Harry,” pleaded Hermione, hunched with cold on a bench in a park, facing Harry who was staring into the distance, as if contemplating a rag of blue autumn sky, visible through the yellowy leaves of ancient trees.

He shook his head slowly and took another sip from his flask.

*

“Oi, mate!,” grinned Ron and hugged his celebrity friend casually.

“How was Bulgaria?,” asked Hary when he caught his breath. Ron was very strong and the Auror-training in Bulgaria only added to his muscles. He looked quite funny with a punk hair-style.

“Oh, it was great, Krum's really not such a grawp,” he smiled lop-sidedly. “He's invited me and Hermione to spend summer at his place. But I think I'm not letting Hermione near him,” he said darkly.

“I think you can trust her completely,” said Harry earnestly.

“The sentence reminds me. When are you going to get that greasy bastard?”

“Don't ...”

“Yeah, I know, I shouldn't. So, when? It's Halloween, 's great time to find any wizard in a frivolous state of mind, innit?”

“Frivolous state of mind? Krum taught you some new words, eh?,” asked Harry with amusement and added bitterly: “In case you've forgotten, I'm not looking for any wizard. Nor do I hope to ever find him in anything resembling a frivolous state of mind.”

“You're right. I'll go get us some beer.”

*

Harry was walking around a shopping centre with Luna. He was carrying around five bags in each hand, while she was only carrying her yellow robe with huge blue, green, orange and pink dots, spelled to jump around like Weasley's Mad-balls.

“Aren't you going to get us anything?,” asked Harry cheerfully, gesturing towards her empty hands.

“Oh, yes,” said Luna thoughtfully. “I created a useful spell for every one of my friends, but Iwasn't sure which was for whom. I think you could use a Leviosa Multiplex,” she said, pronouncing the last two words with her wand pointed discretly at Harry's bags.

“Wow, why didn't I thought of that?,” he asked rethorically and kissed her pale cheek.

“So, what did you get for Severus?,” asked Luna airily.

If Harry didn't have his bags floating safely beside him, he would have let them fall. And Luna would have seen he bought marbles with snowflakes she always wanted for her.

“Severus?”

“Is that not his name?,” she asked non-commitaly.

*

“Oi, Harry, good to see you,” greeted George from the crowd of third year Hogwarts students. “Decided to present Snape with a prank this Christmas, eh?”

“George,” said Harry dangerously.

“All right, all right. I've got that absynthe for you,” he said grumpily. “My mom wouldn't be happy, you know.”

*

“We're spending Christmas at the Burrow,” said Ron from his favourite armchair and lighted the Turkish pipe. He inhaled the apple-scented smoke deeply and asked, holding his breath: “Are you coming, too?”

“I think he should be going somewhere else this year,” said Hermione sternly over a plate of biscuits, placed on her growing belly.

“Look what I've got for you!,” interjected Harry and drew a nicely wrapped package out of his rucksack.

“It's three days to Christmas,” said Hermione and pulled the colourful box out of Ron's grip. “It brings bad luck.”

“But that's a superstition,” sulked Ron, but placed the present neatly under their Christmas tree.

*

A Floo-call. Hermione's head was burning brightly green in Harry's fireplace.

„Hello there, hag,“ said Harry fondly. He looked very tired, exhausted even.

„Hi, honey. So you are here. I wasn't actually expecting you were elsewhere. But you could've at least come to the Burrow instead ...,“ she said, worrying her lip.

„I wasn't really in the mood to listen to you lot plying me with questions all the time.“

„I thought so... Want me to come over? I could bring some punch and pudding ...,“ she offered.

„You needn't bother. Have fun with your family!,“ he said and forced a smile. „I'll be seeing you soon, right?“

„Right,“ she said apprehensively. „Get some rest, will you? You look like you haven't slept in a while.“

„Yes, m'am! Now go and have fun! And don't forget to give my love to everyone!“

She blew him a kiss and disappeared. He sighed and sank deep into the cushions on the sofa.

*

„I'm not even going to ask you,“ said Ron when they met in the usual bar on a very usual tuesday.

„You're getting smarter by weeks. Two pints, please.“

*

„So, mister Potter, how is your love-life going?,“ asked Rita Skeeter, her smile full of artifficial sweetener.

„I'm not commenting on that. But if you really need something, I give you Thomas Mann: It is love, not reason, that is stronger than death.“

„Oh, did someone you loved die?,“ pouted Skeeter.

„It's no business of yours,“ he spat venomously and stood up to leave.

„Oh, come on, Potter, I've known you for ages, you can tell me! A coward is incapable of exhibiting love; it is the prerogative of the brave, if I may cite Gandhi,“ she said snidely.

The Quick-Quotes Quill wrote: „The Boy Who Loved is a coward.“

*

Luna set the copy of the Daily Prophet she was reading aside when Harry entered the café. „Hello, Harry,“ she greeted him warmly.

„Hi,“ he answered, trying to get rid of a very long and colourful scarf of unmistakable Weasley provenance.

„Your cheeks are red,“ observed Luna and watched him with interest while he was still un-scarfing himself.

„Yeah, it's pretty damn cold outside,“ he said and sat down with a thud. „You were reading that.“

„Oh, don't worry. She made a fool of herself. You are a hero, your friends know that. I guess that's what really matters.“

„I know, and I don't give a damn what that darned old hag thinks of me, but calling me a coward … Well, that's funny, actually,“ he said with a smile playing on his lips.

A waitress came with two swan-shaped bowls full of white liquid topped with whipped cream and stopped at their table.

„Oh, I ordered the Swan lake,“ said Luna airily. „I'm sure you'll like it better than the Simpsons.“

When the bowls flew to their places in front of each of the two friends, the surface of the table turned watery emerald green.

„Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength; loving someone deeply gives you courage,“ said Luna absent-mindedly, admiring the soft waves on the lake.

*

No Invisibility cloak. No Apparition, he wouldn't know where to. No Portkey, he wouldn't get it. Broomstick – to dangerous in the season. A plane, a train, a bus, a walk.

Harry felt the wards softly tingle around his ankles when he tried to cross them. Are they only letting me know they are here or are they just this weak?

He crossed them without trouble.

Strong northern wind, known as burja in this area, was blowing furiously around Harry's freezing ears. His hair was a terrible mess, his eyes watery and his cheeks were red as ever. Walking against the wind was a challenge, but it was the only way now.

The house was small, smoke from the chimney the only evidence of life in the village.

Harry walked hesitantly, but not even considering using a wand onto the wooden veranda. The pale oak wood creaked under his careful feet and he froze.

Something in the house flinched, and a tall, dark figure moved silkily past the window and opened the door. The black-clad man made a few steps then stopped. His black robe was billowing around his lean body, and his long, silky, pitch-black hair was fluttering furiously in the freezing wind.

Harry stared into his immensly black eyes, unable to move, unable to speak, unable to breathe.

„Finally,“ the older man said with warm velvet in his voice, the pain scaling off of his soul with every syllable.

The warmth in his eyes and in his voice un-froze Harry, he moved as a sleepwalker, but a very fast one, five steps were faster than a blink, faster than a lightning.

„Severus,“ he breathed and melted in the strong warm hands that embraced him for the first time, as if they existed for the sole purpose of holding him, and as if they were never letting him go, their lips, solitary snowflakes in crazy wind, met in a fiery dance and they evaporated into the kiss.

Title: Mocking Ron
Author: enjambement22
Rating: G
Word Count: 429
Pairing: Snape/Harry
Categories: Romance
Disclaimer: Not mine, just love them to much to leave them alone. Thank you for your patience, J.K.R.!
Summary: A quiet afternoon by the lake. Or maybe not, if you have friends like this.

Mocking Ron

Hermione, Harry and Ron were lying on the grass next to the lake. It was friday, they were really relaxed after their Herbology class, the last before weekend. They joked about Draco who suddenly started coming to the library; the conclusion was he was in love with madame Pince.

“Ehw, that's disgusting!,” grimaced Hermione.

“Tell me about it!,” said ron. “Though I think you are keeping your eyes on that greasy git a lot lately -,” he was teasing.

“Honestly, Ron, I know you don't read, but you could have noticed that my hair becomes 'greasy' at Potions lessons. Ah, you wouldn't, would you? Well then you could at least have noticed that your own hair becomes like dry straw.”

Harry woke from his relaxed doze and started to investigate Hermione's eagerness while she was trying to explain something to their dear, but rather sheepish friend.

“ - right, Harry?,” he heard her ask.

“Sorry, what did you just say?,” asked Harry dreamily.

“You boys! I was telling Ron that one should use protective salve for their hair if they are about to be exposed to the fumes from potions, but he obviously never even heard of a book called Security Measures for Potion Brewers, so it is useless -”

“Come on, Hermione, do you really think anyone besides you ever read that book?,” said Ron.

“Well, I've read it and I'm using the MappleAppleSalve when it crosses my way,” confessed Harry.

“Really? So you are interested in Potions as well now?,” Ron investigated.

“No, not really,” said Harry with a wicked grinn, “I'm rather interested in my looks, mate.”

“Shhh, there he goes!,” Hermione hushed them. Snape was indeed approaching the lake, but obviously did not notice any stupid brats around him.

When Snape disappeared from their sight, Hermione burst: “See? His hair was fluttering in the wind! It's really not greasy all the time, you know.”

“It appeared silky,” murmured Harry.

“Merlin's beard, you're both out of your minds!” Ron couldn't believe what he was hearing.

“And his voice,” muttered Hermione and winked at Harry who added as if they had rehearsed: “Is like a warm velvet blanket that slowly covers you when you are cold and sleepy....”

“That's enough!”

When Ron left, Harry and Hermione couldn't stop giggling. “I think I'm going to have a detention next week” said Hermione thoughtfully and leaned on Harry, who started to braid her salve-free silky hair. Harry didn't say a thing, but he felt sorry for her. Her detention was going to be with Filch – Snape was already taken.

Title:  A dry kiss for a change
Author: enjambement22
Pairing:  snape/harry
Rating: G
Word count: 100
Warning: DH spoilers (if you have a very good imagination ... or perhaps not?)
Genre: romance

Disclaimer: Not mine, just love them to much to leave them alone. Thank you for your patience, J.K.R.!
Summary: Harry Potter has a 'saving people thing'. And he's finally ready to forgive.

A dry kiss for a change

Harry bandaged the wounds with Phoenix-tears Plasters quickly to stop the loss of blood and gave Snape the anti-dote potion, soothingly whispering.

“I don't blame you for becoming a Death Eater. I don't blame you for my parent's deaths. Dumbledore's death was an euthanasia. I don't even blame you for my bad marks at Potions,” he finished with a weak smile and carefully pulled the trembling, wounded, sweaty body into his embrace.

“It's time you stop blaming yourself,” he began saying softly but was interrupted by dry hot lips landing tenderly on his, and fingers, entangled in his unruly hair.

Title: The Unforgettable
Author: enjambement22
Rating: R
Word Count: 100
Pairing: Snape/Harry
Categories: Romance
Disclaimer: Not mine, just love them to much to leave them alone. Thank you for your patience, J.K.R.! I also stole the dialog from QAF (3rd season, 8th episode - my favourite:))
Dedicated to: achih
Summary: Harry is weird due to his dreams. Who could he be dreaming of?

The Unforgettable

“You've been depressed for the entire holiday”, said Hermione.

“I'm sorry I'm a lousy roomate. I'll move out if you want”, offered Harry wearily.

“Did I say that? I just want you to cheer up!”

“I can't help it. I can't stop thinking about him. Last night I dreamt about him again. He knows how to levitate and we were fucking in midair.”

“Wonder what that means...”

“Probably that I should see Pomfrey…”

“It's only natural that these things take time! You've gotta get over it. Tell yourself: 'Draco's history'.”

“Who's talking about Draco?”, frowned Harry. “I'm talking about Snape.”

I hope you gals don't mind me posting links to your fics that happen to be my favourites. If you do, I'll respect your wishes, of course.

The Archive at the End of the Universe :: Serving Multi-Fandom Fiction

Jordan Grant - Cambiare Podentes: Madurare Post 1

The Rag And Bone Shop

http://dragonlight.slashcity.org/mirrors/fic/ex/paradox/poechapter.htm

Bitten by Aucta Sinistra

Virulentus Somnium

If you are prepared

Desdichado - Snarry100 drabble: The light melts to nothing

Just in case I lose them somewhere:)

YouTube - Read My Mind, Snarry (The Killers)

YouTube - Snarry: Cheater (The Killers)

YouTube - Everytime Snarry (Britney Spears)

YouTube - Toxic - Harry Potter/Snape

YouTube - Harry Potter: What I go to school for - Harry/Snape SLASH

19. 7., I saw the movie: liked it, but not enough Snape for me ;)
21. 7., Had a birthday party, got two books: one by Đ.K. ROLING: HARI POTER IN 7 KOZLIČKOV (it means "7 little goats" and it was a practical joke my girls played on me) and the other was the real HP&DH
22.7., the real birthday and started reading
23.7., finished the book and lent it to achih

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows is a poorly written fan fiction!
The only thing a liked was Snape's love story and I didn't really like it, because it was not a surprise at all and it was not with Harry, of course :) I have doubts that JKR even wrote that! It lost all the darkness and all the humour as well. I liked HP because it was not afraid of the dark sides. But here Voldemort is like a stupid beginner ... And practically all the kids survived - bullshit, they were brave enough to fight, so they would also loose their lives, probably....

I intend to finish the ff I am now writng and it WILL NOT ACCEPT DH AS CANNON.
I hope I manage to finish it and I certainly hope you guys are going to keep reading (and writing!!!!) snarry!

Merlin's Y-fronts!

snarry lives on :)

It's a very naive and innocent .... but it's a first time, hey!

Title:  Coffee
Author: enjambement22
Pairing:  snape/harry
Rating: G
Warning: unbetaed
Genre: romance

Disclaimer: Not mine, just love them to much to leave them alone. Thank you for your patience, J.K.R.!
Summary: Snape wakes up - and his bed is not empty.

Severus woke, feeling strangely content and fulfilled. Through the curtains of his half open dreamy eyes he saw something lying next to him, just a few inches away. Something he could define as butter-biscuit dough shaped beautifully into a young man's back, deep blue sheet exposing half of the creamy coloured backside. The body filled the dark bed with soft golden glow.

Mmm, he murmured, I wish I had this dreams every single night. He closed his eyes and dreamily reached for the body next to him. It was unexpectedly warm and it moved, as it surely should in dreams, scrambled in his, hum, embrace, placing it's hand on Severus' chest. Severus winced. It felt so real. And strangely heavy. Especially it's head, wedged into his neck. He stroked the messy, a little too long hair off it's forehead with his soft fingers, feeling something strange under his burning fingertips. It felt just like ... A scar. And not just any scar. Utterly confused, he looked down, with his eyes wide open. It was Harry Potter's scar. It was Potter's hair he so gently moved from the Potter's forehead and he could actually feel Potter's lips pressed on his neck, his head pleasantly filling the far-too-long-empty space on his shoulder. Potter shifted a little, rubbing his thigh against Severus'.

Potter moaned and Severus melted. Oh fuck, went through Snape's mind, I can't have him in my bed. But kicking him out? Well, a boy needs a lot of sleep after what he's been through ... And some comfort, too. Oh, shit, what am I talking about? Oh, shit, what am I to do now?

An annoying cheerful voice in his head said: “Just let the boy rest on your chest, pretend to be asleep as he wakes and see what he fakes.” And now I hear voices. That's really great. I think I better go to sleep now and I'm sure he'll be gone when I wake. But I don't want him to be gone.

When he woke, he didn't want to believe he's awake. But the smell of fresh-cooked coffee is a pleasant smell to wake to even in the wizardry world. Potter was in his bed, lying there and watching him enchantedly. He smiled at Severus' confused face and reached for a mug on the bedside table, and handed it to Snape. He couldn't say but a “thank you”. The coffee was very strong, rich flavour filled his dry mouth. Harry said a cliché: “I like my coffee the way I like my men – black and bitter”. But it made Severus spit a nice gulp of coffee out. Harry cleaned it up very quickly with a cleaning spell and smiled at Snape.

Snape pulled himself together. “What the hell are you doing in my bed, Potter?,” he asked in his usual manner.

“You should consider calling me by my first name while we're in bed, Severus,” said Potter, very self confident, his eyes glittering in the morning sun.

Snape glared at him. “Oh, by the way, how did you end up in my bed, Potter?,” he said in an insultingly slow way. Somewhere in the back of his conscience something realized how beautiful green eyes can be.

“You took me with you,” said Harry simply, his face slightly fading out.

“Is that so?,” growled Snape.

“I was wandering around the castle last night. You found me and I told you I was a sleepwalker. You said you were too and before I said anything back, you took my hand and ...”

Oh, no. So that's back again. I hope that old bloody potion still works on me.

“ ... it was so warm and ... “

“I think I am not quite following you. What was warm again?”

“Your hand, ... Professor.” The glow and the glitter faded. “I felt somehow ... “

“Oh boy, save your hormonal emotions for the girls, please,” came out of that mouth of Snape's.

Harry gasped. “All right then,” he said, having his voice well in hand, “I'll just go then. But I'll finish my sentence, if I may.”

“Go on,” said Snape, annoyed, but he actually wanted to hear what the boy was up to say.

“I felt whole,” he said curtly. In the corner of his eyes there was a hunch of unknown pain. “Goodbye then.”

Snape walked him to the door, opening them with password. Halfway out Harry turned over and said: “Thank you for tonight.”

Snape's eyes bulged and he cleared his throat. “You're dismissed, Potter,” that being a sort of a goodbye-word in Snape's world as a professor. “And thank you for the coffee,” came out unintentionally. It was the best coffee I ever had, he told to himself bitterly, not really recognizing the old slytherin git in that bitterness. He caught a glimpse of a sad smile in the corner of Harry's lips. Those lips ... He felt them on his neck again for a moment. What were they doing, anyway? He shook his head incredulously and strolled to his office, picking a book out of his huge library, trying to distract himself.

Fin.

So, let's see how it works!


It's magic!


Nothing exploded yet. So I must be quite good at it:)