a fool's musings

Fool, said my muse to me, look in thy heart and write...

Warning: Adult Content achromatic unfinished fic graveyard recs journal new stuff recent stuff my back pages January 2004 December 2003 November 2003 October 2003 September 2003 August 2003 July 2003 June 2003 May 2003 April 2003 March 2003 February 2003 January 2003 December 2002 November 2002 October 2002 September 2002 August 2002 July 2002 June 2002 May 2002 April 2002 March 2002 February 2002 January 2002 December 2001 November 2001 the five Ws, or, all about me profile e-mail victoria my livejournal the original P&R comments current mood: "pathological and unbalanced" Items of Interest People LiveJournal folks Baraita bishclone claritylit Jintian Kat Allison Kit Mason metablog mix-tapes Neil Gaiman Nestra Sarah T. Seema Shrift Sundry Mourning zendom Music Walk On - U2 Thunder Road - Bruce Springsteen If I Can't Change Your Mind - Sugar Sick of Myself - Matthew Sweet Town Called Malice - The Jam One - U2 The Space Between - DMB Books Lord of the Rings Catch-22 The Neely Trilogy Absalom! Absalom! Possession: A Romance Foucault's Pendulum Dreamhouse LA Confidential I Capture the Castle Sandman Waking the Moon Shows Angel Buffy the Vampire Slayer (in reruns) Alias West Wing The Simpsons webrings < ? fanfiction ! > < ? writers ! > diaryreviews.diaryland.com NYC Bloggers Comments by Haloscan.com all links, if I haven't screwed up somehow, should open in a new browser window

07.26.04 - 1:14 p.m. 15minuteficlet: Welcome to the Family Been a while, eh? Have a fifteen minute ficlet: Welcome to the Family Remus knew he made a terrible first impression. Gone were the days of hopeful enthusiasm making up for whatever he lacked in panache or stylish clothing. All that was left was a rumpled, graying man who obviously took care with his things, the patches on his clothes sewn with attention to detail, the worn spines of his books burnished with love. He looked around at the flat, at the jumble of his things mixed up with Hermione’s, and winced at how bright and new her belongings looked, and how old and weary his were. She claimed she didn’t care as she pushed him back onto the couch, purchased with his money (his, not Sirius’s, not Harry’s, not Dumbledore’s or Hermione’s) and still smelling of the store. It was the first piece of new furniture he’d owned in almost twenty years. She straddled his lap, and even through his trousers and her knickers, he could feel her heat, warming him, lulling his doubts with the thought of her body encompassing his, her legs around his hips, her tongue in his mouth. The bell rang, and they jumped apart. Hermione straightened her skirt and rebuttoned her blouse There was nothing to be done about her lips, red and kiss-swollen, as she went to the door; he took a deep breath and hoped his face wasn’t as flushed as he felt, and that she hadn’t left marks on any exposed skin. Hermione enjoyed leaving what she called little gifts decorating the skin of his neck, chest and belly, love bites that made him both proud and self-conscious. Even after all these years and numerous lovers, he hadn’t quite resolved himself to the idea that it was the man, and not the wolf, who wanted to bite under intimate circumstances. Hermione opened the door and Mr. and Mrs Granger entered in a whirl of expensive scent and excited chatter. “And you must be Remus,” Mrs. Granger said, pulling him into a perfumed embrace. “Hermione’s told us such a lot about you.” She let him go, and he found his hand being shaken vigorously by Mr. Granger, and he thought, I still don’t know their first names. How had he not thought of that? But surprisingly, Hermione was good at taking him out of his own head. It was one of the things he loved most about her. “Welcome to the family, son,” Mr. Granger said and Remus felt faintly hysterical laughter bubbling up at the idea of this man, who was quite possibly only five years older than he, calling him son. “So, you’re a professor? That’s wonderful.” “Yes. Thank you.” “Mum, Dad, stop being so overwhelming,” Hermione said dryly. “You’re making a terrible first impression.” Remus smiled at that, wrapped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed. “Not at all, Hermione,” he said, all of a sudden feeling a thousand times better about this whole thing than he had even five minutes previously. “It’s nice to be part of a family again.” end **** the word was "impression" ~victoria [current mood: ] [current music: ] [random quote: ] ~*~ previous - next DiaryLand Disclaimer: Reading this diary is not required by law. If you do not like or agree with the contents herein, or find them to be offensive on more than one occasion, please go elsewhere and don't come back. Management is not responsible for any adverse reactions to content within. The painting is "Boreas" by John William Waterhouse. Again, not a muse, but I like her. She suits the color scheme. The quote is from Sir Philip Sidney. This site is best viewed with IE4+ | 1024x768 | true color | verdana | tables