Oh, life is a glorious cycle of song,
A medley of extemporanea;
And love is a thing that can never go wrong;
And I am Marie of Romania.

--Dorothy Parker

Hello.

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Just a few tidbits from my fics to spark your interest:

Back In Time:

“Are you out of your MIND?” gasped Hermione, “Harry’s dad could conceivably encounter Harry, and he would think Harry is himself! The consequences of that would be disastrous.”

“What do you mean?” questioned Harry curiously.

“I foresee two possibilities,” Hermione explained urgently, “One- James coming face-to-face with Harry, thinking that Harry is him, would put him into shock and he’d simply pass out. Or two-the encounter could create a time paradox, the results of which could cause a chain reaction that would unravel the very fabric of the space-time-continuum and DESTROY THE ENTIRE UNIVERSE!”

000

Lily quickly backed away, muttering something about Madam Pomfrey not wanting too many people in the room. She brushed past them and hurried out the door.

Hermione stopped hugging Harry and suddenly gasped in disgust.

“Harry!” yelped Hermione, diving off the bed. “Where are your pants?”

Divine Torment:

I looked at her, her red hair so mused and wild it almost seemed to be crackling from her anger. Her words were severe, yet they were somewhat accurate. Doubt about the Rakshana seeped into my mind and I quickly brushed it off. She was wrong. Of course she was wrong. She was one of them, one of the Order. Manipulative witches who bent humanity to their will using their magic. She was wrong.

000

Tangled red hair, blank green eyes, blood. Blood everywhere, my hands, her throat. So much blood, where on earth had it come from? From her. The crimson, sticky substance dripping off my fingers, my clothes, her lips. Lips that could say nothing, hands that could do nothing, eyes that stared. Stared at me. What have I done?

The Good, The Bad, and The Angry:

“Really, Malfoy, it’s okay, you can say it: ‘my name is Draco Malfoy and I have a problem: I hate my life and wish I had someone to love me and take care of me.’”

“Go shove a bloody spoon down your throat, Zabini; I do not have a problem!”

“They say denial is the first sign of insanity.”

Draco Malfoy rubbed his forehead, feeling a throbbing headache coming on. He bitterly cursed his irritating friend, mourning the loss of his seemingly good day.

000

Unable to do anything but hopelessly kick the thin air, Draco smirked. “Why Potter, I didn’t know you were so keen on shagging me. But if you don’t mind, I’d rather go on top.”

Disgusted, Harry immediately withdrew, giving Draco the chance to pounce back on top of him, much to Harry’s horror.

“Now then, isn’t this better?” asked Draco, smirking triumphantly.

“Shove off, Malfoy!” spat Harry, furiously trying to wiggle his way out from under the Slytherin’s body.

“You never were the most articulate with words, Potty. But I suppose hanging around mudbloods does have that effect.”

Harry’s face flushed a deep red, but he recovered quickly and a sneer soon graced his features as he said, “How’s your father doing in Azkaban, Malfoy? I expect you won’t be getting any new broomsticks for a while?”

“At least my father’s alive, you infuriating poof!” jeered Malfoy, jabbing his foot into Harry’s knee.

“Not for long, most likely.”

And with that Harry kneed Malfoy in the crotch, and the both of them began to roll across the floor of the Great Hall, with Blaise Zabini whooping gleefully after them.

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