The Sober Universe
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Sara Winters

Great, now I want to know what happened next. Besides that thing with Tonks.

4/27/2009 #31

Great, now I want to know what happened next. Besides that thing with Tonks.

On its way. I'm writing it as we speak in another window.

4/27/2009 #32

"Interesting?" Hermione asked, her hair-trigger curiosity piqued once again, "How so?"

"Have you ever seen a baby-pink Naval vessel before, Hermione?"

"No," she answered, warily, "but I have a feeling you have."

"It was brilliant!" Harry exclaimed. "He turned the whole bloody ship pink!"

"The whole bloody ship?" Ron echoed.

"Ronald? Language!" Hermione admonished.

"But that's not all," Harry continued. "No. He went up to the missle deck and re-named it - the Lido Deck. Bloody brilliant, what?"

"Bloody brilliant is right, Harry," Ron agreed.

"Language again, Ronald Weasley. How many times do I have to -"

"Bloody buggering hell! How many times do I have to tell you that even if I did fancy birds, I'd - What? What's everyone looking at this time?"

Harry stepped in to save the day. "Never mind, Ron. We'll just have to have a talk with them before we get back to Hogwarts is all." Ginny's eyes opened to the size of saucers.

"We? Harry, you're not - Aaaaaugh!" she shrieked as she was running out of the room. There was a rather awkward pause before Hermione

"Well, now that that's all cleared up, boys, we do need to find out exactly who this new Defence against the Dark Arts professor is. What else can you tell us about him, Harry?"

"Oh, the story's just getting started, Hermione," Harry answered...

4/27/2009 #33

"Just getting started you say, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"Oh my yes. After the professor was finished with the ship, he confunded the crew and re-wrote his paperwork giving him a retroactive discharge. Then we popped out of there and over to his cottage by the ocean."

Hermione was confused, which is never a good thing to have happen in the middle of a good story. "Wait. You say Dumbledore gave him a wand, right?"

"That's the way it looked."

"So, he didn't have one of his own?"

"Guess not, or else he'd have popped out of there awhile ago, you reckon? Oh, and he would have ditched the woman he was living with, too. Because once we got to his cottage, she started laying into him in not one, but two languages - simultaneously. I think the Malfoys treated poor Dobby better than tha-" There was a pop in the room, and the trio fairly jumped out of their skin until they realized it was merely Dobby.

"Harry... Potter...? You is such a good wizard. You has need of Dobby?"

"I... Oh bugger me."


"Not now, Ron. Dobby, I didn't call you - honestly. I just mentioned your name whilst telling a tale," Harry told the elf softly.

"Youse remember poor Dobby? The great Harry Potter knows an elf's name? You is the greatest wizard ever, Harry Potter!" Dobby had tears in his eyes as he regarded the young savior of the Wizarding world. He then opened his enormous eyes, tilted his head, and addressed the object of his affection tentatively. "I can haz something to do?" Harry tossed a book at him.

"No, you bloody well can not have something to do. Now scram, you miserable whelp! Scram!"

"Oh, Harry Potter is being kind to be so cruel to an elf! Thank you, Harry Potter. May an elf have another?"

"GET!" Harry shouted, and Dobby popped away after blowing Harry a gentle kiss. "Bloody masochistic freak. Now, where were we - Oh, right. So, the professor's wife had him good and yelled at before he pointed his wand at her and hit her with a Silencio. This at least shut her up long enough for him to tell her that they needed to pack up and go to Scotland, but she wasn't having any of that. She actually sounded eerily like my Aunt Petunia before he gave up on her and stunned her."

"He stunned his own wife? Isn't that - ?" Hermione was very concerned.

"No, she only fell onto the futon. That professor sure is quick with a wand. I overheard him tell Dumbledore - "

"Professor Dumbledore, Harry."

"Right. I over heard him tell Professor Dumbledore, you miserable swotty slag, that he'd performed Legilimens on her while she was yelling at him about the magic. Apparently she was afraid that she'd not be able to control him any further, so that's when he made up his mind just to ditch her there in California. Good riddance to bad rubbish, I say."

"Ooh, so he's on the rebound, is he?"

"Seems to be, Hermione. But he's far to old for you. 25, according to Dumbledore."

"Really? But he doesn't look a day over 20."

"All that California sunshine, I suppose. Strange thing is, I never did catch his - " Harry was interrupted by the dulcet tones of Molly Weasley hollering up the stairs.

"Golden Trio! Supper!"

4/27/2009 #34
Bad Mum

"Golden Trio! Supper!"

You're killing me.

4/27/2009 #35

You're killing me.

Perhaps, but to paraphrase damn near every American of a certain age and culture to walk upon England's mountain green: "Yer no' dead yet!" (All apologies to Monty Python)


Hermione stopped dead in her tracks upon exiting the staircase into the Weasley family kitchen. This specimen of manhood in front of her consumed her entire vision, and was on the verge of consuming her entire soul. His hair was light brown, what little there was of it. His eyes a twinkling blue-green, so that when they caught the light, the colors would dance a tarantella on her heart. Eyes that were care-worn, yet compassionate. Hopeful, but not naive. Eyes that had a tale to tell, if one would be lucky enough to catch but a stanza. Eyes with which he could barely see, as the thick pieces of clear plastic that hid them from all but those who had a true desire in her heart to see them could attest.

His t-shirt was black. Black as the hope of a new moon's light. Black as magic Herself. Black as he took his coffee, Molly would soon find out. It was worn and nearly threadbare, but looked to have borne witness to a hundred adventures, and lain on the floor during a thousand nights of passion. On it, in simple block letters, was a single, solitary word. A word so lonely on the garment that one wanted to stroke it soothingly, telling it that all would be well. Of course, with the shirt on the mystery DADA professor, one would generally want to do that anyway. The word: Ramones. Hermione, being a good girl, had no idea what that word meant, but she was certain that she would repair the lost libraries of Alexandria itself to find out. She was also certain that she would repair the lost libraries of Alexandria itself to find a recipe for Shepherd's Pie, but equally certain that that was besides the point. One day she would know the meaning of this cryptic message, "Ramones," and it would change her irrevocably.

His dungarees were blue. Blue as an F# in a descending c-minor scale - a joke only he understood, but one he used with foolhardy abandon nonetheless. They gracefully hugged - nay, caressed - his slender frame, gathered at the hips in a stout black leather belt. The dungarees ran down his legs like Lake Ontario at Niagra Falls, not that Hermione knew this, as she'd never been to either New York or Ontario, but that's how they ran down his legs just the same. They were not so tight that one would be able to tell the mystery professor's religion from outside of them, but what was outside of those blue jeans became less and less significant to the young Gryffindor by the moment. The jeans ended in a pool of denim by his ankles, which, along with his feet, were enclosed in shiny black leather boots, which were adorned with silver buckles.

And that moment's reverie was broken in an instant, when, like a chorus of angels conducted by Caecilia Herself, the mystery professor opened his mouth and addressed Hermione.

"Hi there. It was Hermione, right?" he asked, and time and space collapsed in on each other as she became weak in the knees. She gracefully sat down, squeeked out

"Yes. It's Hermione. From Shakespeare, as I'm sure you're aware," and began to eat her supper, hoping beyond hope that it would provide the nutrients that her body so desperately needed.

4/27/2009 . Edited 4/27/2009 #36
Bad Mum

Christopher dear, you need help.

(But don't get it till you finish this.)

4/27/2009 #37

Excellent. I'm so glad you're kinda-sorta enjoying this. Maybe. Hopefully I'll be able to write/post more of it tonight.

4/27/2009 #38

Blue as an F# in a descending c-minor scale - a joke only he understood, but one he used with foolhardy abandon nonetheless.

Oh man! Quick! Where are my musical theory books?

Katy, are you going to be sorry or glad that you asked me to come here if I admit to Christopher that I think this is great? (I chuckled out loud several times, and I don't usually do that. Chuckles while I'm staring at the computer screen make my husband wonder what I'm up to, and I don't want to have to explain all the time.

4/27/2009 #39
Sara Winters

"I... Oh bugger me."


"Not now, Ron.

I'm not choking on my food. But pretty damn close.

4/27/2009 #40

Oh man! Quick! Where are my musical theory books?

No need, it's just an example of a blue note. If you really want to music theory it out, it'd be Fi, or the raised fourth of the scale.

Chuckles while I'm staring at the computer screen make my husband wonder what I'm up to, and I don't want to have to explain all the time.

I understand this. At Chez Respite it usually starts with "oh, talking to your girlfriends again?".

4/27/2009 #41

I'm not choking on my food. But pretty damn close.

Excellent. My master plan to thwart Red Sox Nation by depriving it of nutrition is working. Mooowhahahahahaha.

4/27/2009 #42
Sara Winters

"oh, talking to your girlfriends again?".

*ahem* Other wife.

My master plan to thwart Red Sox Nation by depriving it of nutrition is working.

Not really. You do realize I fall asleep watching baseball? It's probably the only thing with a ball I can't watch for more than 5 minutes.

4/27/2009 #43

My poor mate is computer illiterate. Wanna know how bad it is? Sure you do. I've made friends with remuslives23 (amazingly brilliant smutty, slashy RL/SB writer) who lives in Australia. My husband actually asked me, "You mean you can talk to someone in Australia on the computer?" I love the poor, dear man.

4/27/2009 #44

Yay. So glad this is attracting lulz. Very much some inside jokes here, so I don't imagine this would appeal to anyone outside the fandom, but the lulz are appreciated nonetheless.

4/28/2009 #45
verity candor

Oh le trauma from your story, I think I'm about to break a rib or something.

5/6/2009 #46

Story now posted. The above is Chapter One: Exposition. We'll see if posting what I have here before trying to put it there reduces time between updates. I'll not hold my breath, though.

5/11/2009 #47
Sara Winters

An. Influencing people to (good)badness is a skill.

5/11/2009 #48

The evening meal passed uneventfully at the Burrow; the new professor enjoyed his Shepherd's Pie and Treacle Tart, but perhaps not as much as he would have had it not been fed to him by the newly busty metamorphmagus that was sitting on his lap. Tonks was feeding him morsels of ground beef and potatoes, allowing her hair to morph between candy-apple red and baby pink, and doing her best to use her metamorphmagus powers to test the tension rating on the thread that attached the buttons on her blouse to the blouse itself. Harry and Ron played footsie under the table, while Ginny and Hermione were busy plotting how to rid them of this aberrant behavior. Not that they found anything wrong with homosexuality, it just didn't fit in with the plans they'd devised for the boys' lives. Fleur had excused herself after wolfing down a ladleful of the casserole looking to take out some of her restless energy on her fiancee (and this was precisely how she excused herself), while Molly cast enough cheering charms to numb herself from the neck up.

“Ooh, please do tell us about California again,” Tonks asked. “You say the sun shines there all the time?”

“Well,” the new professor began, “there is that song,” and he began to sing “It never rains in Southern California…”

“Oh, what a voice you have, dear.” Molly slurred. “I did so want my boys to learn to sing. Only Percy ever did, and you can see where that got us.

“You are too kind, Molly,” he replied. “No one’s paid me to sing a note in years. Doubt I ever will again, to be honest. But maybe I’ll find something up in Scotland.”

“Speaking of Scotland, sir,” Harry spoke up, “What did happen to you when Dumbledore whispered in your ear?”

“It was the damndest thing, Harry. First I felt this thing wash over me – the way you feel an IV drip invade your veins.” The whole table nodded their heads at once, even though none of them had ever been treated by a Muggle doctor in their lives. “Then it was if I was getting a crash-course in life. All of a sudden, everything made sense. Dumbledore said there had been a block on my magic.

"Dumbledore, right," Harry parrotted, dodging Hermione's swat. "So, how is it that you know the Headmaster, professor?"

"I didn't, actually," the professor replied, "at least I don't think I had. This is all so - Tonks, why don't you zip that back up and finish that thought when we get back to your place - all so new. I received so much there on the ship - centuries of wisdom, libraries of knowledge, traditions, culture - my brain could barely contain it all. But there is one thing in particular that stuck out."

"I can think of something I'd love to have stick out," Tonks growled, inbetween nibbles on the professor's earlobe. The new professor blushed, but continued on.

"Well, yes, but that too will have to wait until later, my dear," the professor replied, swatting Tonks's rear playfully. "Harry, this concerns you. It turns out that you're the chosen one."

The table was shocked into a stunned silence.

5/11/2009 . Edited 5/11/2009 #49
Bad Mum

An. Influencing people to (good)badness is a skill.

We are suitably grateful, Sara.

Christopher, I think I love you.

5/11/2009 #50
Sara Winters

This is all so - Tonks, why don't you zip that back up and finish that thought when we get back to your place - all so new.

I'm starting to think you like having me choke on my food. I can't stop laughing.

5/11/2009 #51

"Harry, this concerns you. It turns out that you're the chosen one."

The table was shocked into a stunned silence.

Which lasted about long enough for Hermione to get her bearings.

"Oh, really now?" she began, the sarcasm dripping from her voice. "Harry's the bloody chosen one, is he? Is that the big news from our great and mighty Dumbledore? Merlin's sweaty nutsack, but anyone who's made even the barest beginnings at reading the Western mythological canon would have sussed that out in about a minute and a half. If he thinks he can leave you in the dark like that, Harry, and -"

Harry interrupted what was proving to be quite a rant from Hermione. "But, Hermione - "

"Don't you interrupt me, Harry Potter," she growled at him. Just because you're tipped to be the chosen one doesn't give-"

"But I am the chosen one."

Hermione swatted the back of his head with her hand.

"No, really," the Chosen One said in his defense. "Dumbledore told me the prophecy before I left for Surrey last month."

5/12/2009 #52

Here my cliche. The serious Sirius joke. *Rolls eyes* That one old the first time you read it!

Come on people lets try harder huh?

5/31/2009 #53
Sara Winters

For the love of fans everywhere: there simply must be a fic explaining the best methods of magical birth control, how students know about and use it and how some will inevitably fail at execution.

7/30/2009 #54

"No, really," the Chosen One said in his defense. "Dumbledore told me the prophecy before I left for Surrey last month."

Hermione looked a bit ashamed at her earlier outburst. "Well, yes. I suppose he must have. Oh dear, I must have made rather an ass of myself - and in front of our new professor, too. Please, sir. Don't hold this against me." Hermione bowed her head, a bit ashamed; and if you looked closely, you could see her knees bend ever-so-slightly toward a curtsey.

"Oh, think nothing of it, my dear. And no need to stand on formalities with me, either. Please, you may all feel free to call me - " And before the professor could get that last word out, Tonks had assaulted his mouth with her own, leaving the assembled still rather confused as to how to address their new instructor.

"Well then," the Professor said. "Most of you may call me that. You, however," he continued, addressing Tonks, "are to call me Professor." He punctuated this assertion with a rather jaunty wink in the metamorph's direction and a swat on her rear. "Right. We'll be off, then. Don't quite know when we'll be coming up for air, but I certainly expect to see you all at the sorting ceremony. Mrs Weasley," he continued, getting up from the table (after gingerly removing Tonks from his lap), "thank you for a lovely meal." He kissed the Weasley matriarch's hand as she blushed and giggled. "Lovely to meet the rest of you. Ciao!"

7/30/2009 #55
Sara Winters

Please, sir. Don't hold this against me.

What would she like him to hold against her? :-)

I demand you continue.

7/30/2009 #56

And chapter two ended here. Let's see if I can get to chapter three.

8/3/2009 #57
Sara Winters

Let's see if I can get to chapter three.

You, sir, are a tease.

12/6/2009 #58

Goodness, Sara. You remember this treacle? Huh. Well, I might be able to give it another go...

12/7/2009 #59
Sara Winters

Yay. I'm dying to find out what happens with Tonks. And our mystery professor's name.

12/7/2009 #60
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