Though there will definitely be a fade to black at the key moment.

Okay, see, this is a problem.

In some, the wine of slash is strong port, in some it is light champagne. It's all a good vintage, though.

t though I don't know if port is particularly strong. It sounds good, though

t selfpimp

PMM/Wes up in the LJ , should anyone be curious. But be warned - it's big with the pretention. Also, I haven't actually describe PMM at all. But it's definitely her. In my head. Um. Even though you might not think "yeah, that's obviously PMM." Um.

t /selfpimp

MEEP!

Right. Will finish Fay/Fearless Diva/Faith tonight, then.

But, to be honest, a lovely, sweaty Draco/Neville scene, with lots of Recent Events angst as the background would be pleasant. Maybe she'll let them get a bit sweaty, and maybe somebody will at least get their shirt torn.

If by pretentious, you mean "hot", I would say that was an incredibily pretentious piece of writing, Fay.(And, yeah, I know what pretentious means.)I wish more of the pretentious people I know would do it like that. (They don't. They tell me about the bouquet of wine, "seminal" jazz and their mint record collection.)

blush Glad you liked it. But it is terribly pretentious. But it was fun.

Meanwhile, back when I'd just read LoP I felt that it needed fanfic. But then I didn't have the nerve to ask Ms Hall how she felt about such a thing. This will therefore never see the light of day, but I thought it might possibly be interesting to some of you. Possibly. Or not. But I'm afraid there isn't the hot Neville/Draco shaggage per se.

Family gatherings, in Emily Longbottom’s considered opinion, were a decidedly mixed blessing. Certainly blood was thicker than water, but then so was porridge. So, come to that, were all manner of unpleasant things. nevertheless recent events (not to be confused with Recent Events) had been enough to put a damper on the rambunctious Longbottom family’s Christmas celebrations. Shouting matches were one thing - folks looked back on the Great Food Fight of 1987 with a measure of affection, and if a person squinted they could still distinguish the faint remnants of a vast stain caused when Iris successfully ducked out of the way of a badly aimed gravy boat - but cold blooded attempts to establish a whole new family pecking order were something else entirely. To say that Emily Longbottom had been a little put out by young Eustace’s abortive coup would be an understatement on a par with describing Hagrid as a touch conspicuous, or Voldemort as occasionally a little naughty. Thus it was a slightly reduced and uncharacteristically subdued group of Longbottoms who assembled at her house in Roughlee-on-Pendle to celebrate the festive season.

Of course, a subdued group of Longbottoms was still perfectly capable of talking the hind legs off several donkeys. Had gossip and bickering been sports in the Wizarding Olympics, the Longbottom family would have carried away at least one gold medal, and quite probably two, without any particular effort.

Neville Longbottom, Emily’s heir apparent, awoke on Christmas morning to the sound of his cousins in the hallway arguing animatedly about the Chudley Cannons' latest lineup as they galumphed down to breakfast. He opened one eye and stared balefully up at the ceiling.

"We could still escape," said Draco, without bothering to raise either eyelid. "The fireplace is right there. We could be in Hawaii in ten minutes."

It was undeniably tempting. Neville gave sleepy consideration to the matter.

"No," he replied regretfully. "She’d never forgive us."

"Forgiveness is overrated."

"Has anyone ever told you that you’re a very bad influence?"

"I think it might have been mentioned once or twice," Draco said, dropping a lazy kiss on Neville’s shoulder blade and sliding one arm around his waist. "Hawaii," he whispered seductively, his breath stirring the hair at the nape of Neville’s neck. Neville shook with silent laughter. "Sunny beaches. Pristine water. No family members for hundreds of miles. Mmmm."

"The floo network - doesn't even - go - to Hawaii," Neville said after a while.

"Does."

"But surely it's too hot for - no, I really don't know what I'm talking about."

"You really don't."

"Mmm."

"We could just stay in bed."

"All Christmas?"

"Can you think of a better Christmas present?" asked Draco.

"Modesty was never one of your strengths, was it?"

"No."

All hail FayJay, most glorious of fic facilitators.

Lord, yes, I know I've been stirred very much towards writing fic inside AU fics, or continuing stories, or writing fic for WOF, the enormous (excellent! wonderful! go read it!) original-fiction fantasy series written by Plaidder, who has explicitly expressed discomfort at the idea of reading WOF fic.

But I've resisted. I've restrained myself.

Which does not mean Fay should.

... Right now I'm sitting on the couch downstairs, and the door to the garage is wide open, and cold air is filling the room, because a sister went through it and never closed it. But I'd be so unhappy if I stood up and went to shut it, because I'm so cosy on the couch.

It snowed all day today.

I redefine "lazy bitch".

God, I've become one of those horrible fans who tells authors what to write. Argh.