开云体育

30 - I wanna go to bed with Mozart or My past meets yours Chapter Text Chapter 30 - I wanna go to bed with Mozart or My past meets yours Tel' Lindar 30 I Wanna go to bed with Mozart or My past meets yours. *** ‘Nana?' I question her again. *It is not yours, child. None of it is yours.* Her voice reverberates inside my head. My hands brace on the lid as I lean over... ‘Nana?' *It is time, child.* ‘Time for what?' That sweet, precious smile I adored, craved as a child, graces her face and she bends over to place her parchment thin hands on my face. *It is time to leave the past behind, my precious one. Even for now, even for a little while, you must take the Wizard's hand and allow him to lead you through the mazes, through the dark places* ‘But Haldir... my love...' Her eyes soften in sorrow. *Cannot lead you to where you must go. You can't keep your eyes on both, my child. You must give all of your attention and trust to the Wizard. You must find your bow.* She releases my face and strokes the trunk I am leaning on. *It is not yours, my child. None of it is truly yours. I am so sorry. You have been and will continue to be a wonderful caretaker.* ‘Nana?' A single finger silences me. *Find your bow. He will lead you. Listen to the child. She sees much. Follow the Wizard.* ‘Child? What child? Nana, saes...' *Listen to the Wizard.* ‘Nana?' *Trust the Wizard.* ‘Oh, saaeeessss....' *** The end of November arrived, the weather turning crisper and much colder. The castle braziers and fireplaces poured out the heat, making the upper floors cozy and warm. The dungeon remained cold, dismal; and most of the inhabitants drew inwards and bundled up, seeking their own solitary company. As Hogwarts turned inwards, tucking in, keeping its charges safe within, Bronwyn emerged from her confinement throwing off the pallor of illness, the heavy cloak of rejuvenating slumber. Like a butterfly spreading its cocoon-dampened wings, she ventured into the Great Hall on Saturday evening for dinner , clutching Remus Lupin's arm. Dressed in unrelieved black and with her hair pulled away from her face, more than one student compared her pale complexion with that of a certain Potions Master. Severus was nowhere to be seen. Truth was, she had not seen him since Harry had been carried off the field. Bronwyn paced her chambers, around the sofa, up the stairs, around the pianoforte, down the stairs, around the sofa... "Tithen Aras, please cease that useless wandering. Elrond and Elladan will take care of him." She plopped down next to Erestor and propped her feet up in his lap. "I could help." The Elf's hands grasped her ankles, massaging them slowly. "You would get in the way. Allow them space. Professor Snape will be down shortly and he will tell you what has happened." "Maybe he will, maybe he won't." Bronwyn grimaced. "I wouldn't bank any money on him telling me anything." She wiggled her toes. "Ah, you're right. I would be in the way. I just don't appreciate the bat ordering me about!" When they saw Harry being brought in, both she and Snape rushed to the entranceway, Harry suspended between the two Elves. Actually, that was not quite true. He had escorted her to her chambers, she had counted to twenty and then snuck out, taking a different route to the small hospital wing. By the time she reached the infirmary, Elrond was waiting, Madam Pomfrey standing awestruck at his side and Severus was scowling. Bronwyn started to follow Dark Wizard in. "Go back to your quarters." Bronwyn stared at him, unbelieving what she had just heard. "No, I-" "I said go to your chambers." "I can help." She went to move around him and through the door. Severus grabbed her arm, none too gently. "It was not a request." He turned her and literally thrust her into Erestor's arms. "You will be in the way. Go." And with that he slammed the door in her face. "Son of a bitch!" Amadeus thrust his head in her hand, brushing his head against her. Unconsciously, she rubbed the offered brow, as she was shoved aside by Remus. He was closely followed by Minerva and Albus. They mumbled apo

Chapter 29: 29 - A Snowball's Chance in the Dungeon or The Lost Child of Hogwarts Chapter Text Chapter 29 - A Snowball's Chance in the Dungeon or The Lost Child of Hogwarts Chapter 29 A Snowball's Chance in the Dungeon or The Lost Child of Hogwarts *** Lately, I've been walking, walking in circles Watching, waiting for something Feel me, touch me, heal me Come take me higher In the Shadows The Rasmus *** This was a new place; one the Voyeur did not recognize. The natural surroundings blended in with the architecture, nature and Elvish workmanship all complimenting each other. A soft breeze blew, fall leaves fluttering across the walkways. The Voyeur wandered the halls, taking in the artwork, the carvings. A door at the end of a hall stood open, a light beckoning. He quietly stepped through. The Big Elf stood in the room - Of course he stood in the room; should this be a surprise? - his back to the Voyeur; a variety of herbs arranged on a table before him. "Thank you." The Big Elf's voice was contrite, restrained. Almost... "For what?" The Big Elf's shoulders rose and sank in a heavy sigh and the Voyeur thought to enjoy lording over him for the moment. "Your care of my wife, while she is ill. I thank you." He turned to look at the Voyeur over his shoulder. "You could have left her to Lord Elrond and his sons. You did not." The Voyeur smirked. "I trust them as easily as I trust you." "Do not gloat. It is still within my power to make your every breathing moment a living hell." The Voyeur shrugged. "I cannot imagine how it could get any worse." The Big Elf sighed, obviously holding his tongue. He reached out to the table before him and picked up a packet of herbs."This is an extract from-" "Echinacea, which comes from coneflowers. I am already giving her that." A grim smile lit the features of the Elf. He turned and opened his hand, slivers of metal enclosed within. "This is zinc. Muggles have a rather pleasant tasting throat lozenge with zinc in it. No doubt, Lord Elrond can tell you how to make it." "This is to aid her in some way?" The Big Elf's head was bowed; the Voyeur could see his jaw clenched, ticking. "You will need to alternate the Echinacea and the zinc every fourteen days. Else, she will build up an immunity to them. Have the house elf continue to fumigate the castle. She should be fine." The Voyeur looked at the coneflower leaves. "As long as she lives in the bowels of the castle, you will need to use preventative herbs. Especially when she is trapped indoors." It was quiet for a moment; the sound of the wind, rustling through the leaves was the only thing audible. Finally- "She is a veritable demon when ill." The Voyeur spoke softly. The Big Elf snorted through his nose. "This is nothing - a mere warm-up to when she is pregnant." He raised a finger to silence the Voyeur. "She cries at everything; in sorrow, in joy, she weeps like a spring thunderstorm." The Voyeur raised an eyebrow. "At her advanced age, I am pleased that will not be an obstacle or problem." He did not see the Big Elf's knowing glare. The Voyeur looked in each hand. Echinacea. Zinc. "Honey will soothe her throat, if that gets out of hand. Watch her closely. The Vessel cracks." The Voyeur allowed a true, slow smile. "I will take care of your Air." "Your Treasure." "Our most Precious Jewel." *** No sleep No sleep until I'm done with finding the answer Won't stop Won't stop before I find the cure for this cancer In the Shadows The Rasmus *** Friday morning dawned cold and clear, the sun rising over the Scottish hills. The castle slowly began to stir, began to awaken. As the sun rose over the mountain, she did not budge or roll from the couch. After twelve hours, she finally began to stir. She stretched, arms over her head. "I trust you slept well?" She stopped in mid-stretch, eyes popping open. She twisted around, entangling blankets twixt her limbs, staring over at... Him. Snape sat in a leather chair - not hers, where had it come from? - elbows braced on his knees, and his chin propped on steepled fingers. Black eyes bore into hers. "Well?" He

Chapter 28: 28 - The Great Wall of Snape or The Paper Chase Chapter Text Chapter 28 - The Great Wall of Snape or The Paper Chase Chapter 28 The Great Wall of Snape or The Paper Chase *** "Is it salvageable?" "Is there hope?" "There is always hope." A raven -winged eyebrow arched delicately. "But this...THIS will be work." Erestor, seneschal and secretary to Lord Elrond Peredhil, stood in the middle of stacks and stacks of parchment and seemingly haphazard piles of random scrolls and paper. "Shocking, is it not?" Elladan was having too good a time at his former teacher's expense. "N'uma. It does not shock me." Erestor's grey eyes lifted and looked at the twins. "You should have seen her cottage after she arrived in Valinor." A delicate shudder ran through the slender Elf. "Gandalf, your Adar, and I never thought to see the end of it. I dare say, Haldir sighed a breath of relief and spent more time at home once it was complete." "How long did that take?" Elrohir asked flippantly. "Three thousand years, give or take a century or two." Long steady whistles of appreciation. Erestor cast a steady eye on the two Elves he watched grow up and considered dead for so many thousands of years. He had been over-joyed when the twins met him at the doors, although those who did not know him, would have not known; he schooled his emotions as well as the taciturn Potions Master of Hogwarts. He had not been properly introduced to Bronwyn's Shield; he only saw him flying by as he came down her stairs, heading for breakfast and class. He would meet him soon enough. Elrond arrived and was standing behind his sons. "Do you think she will mind your re-arranging her office?" Erestor's eyes roamed the shelves, the stacks, the seemingly unorganized mess. Therein lay the crux of Bronwyn; what appeared to be unorganized to the world was navigable by her. "It does not matter if she does or does not." He stepped further into the room. "Would any of you care to aid me?" "We have a-" "-class to teach. Actually-" "-our day is rather booked, so-" "-sorry M'aelamin. Perhaps after-" "-dinner?" "Oh, would you look at the time! Must-" "-Get the classroom ready. So good to-" "-see you, Erestor!" The twins exited her chambers as fast as they talked. A small smile crept on the corner of Erestor's mouth. "My lord, would you-" "N'uma!" Elrond fairly spat. "I have spent several days keeping Bronwyn, that Wizard spawn of my daughter's, and whatever name Haldir is going by from killing each other! I would like a few hours of peace and quiet." The Elf Lord tapped a finger on his lip, thoughtfully. "Perhaps a nice, quiet book..." Erestor had moved into the room, surveying the piles, picking up stray scrolls and paper and seemingly perusing them. "I understand Celeborn sent her some new ones." he stated matter-of-factly. "Bah! He probably sent disgusting romance novels his wife would enjoy!" Erestor's smile deepened, but he made sure his back was to the Elf Lord. "I do not know what Galadriel sees in him. Pervert!" "Regardless of Celeborn's faults, which are many, he is kind and wise. He is a fierce protector of his people and his family. Galadriel chose well her life-mate." "Aye." Elrond watched as Erestor began to pick and shift through the rubble of Bronwyn's office. "I am going to the library. It will be interesting to see what the Wizards have done over the last eleven hundred years." The Elf Lord began to meander towards the door. "Lord Elrond?" The ElfLord stopped. "I understand the Wizard has been given all of Haldir's ... gifts, multiplied in order to aid her?" A pause... "Uma." "They why do you not tell him to lay his hands on her in order to heal her completely?" The Noldor dropped the parchment in his hand and came to stand in front of his master, hands stretched in supplication. "She is ill! I could hear her breathing when the Wizard left this morning!" "All this care from the Elf who wanted to hide the One Ring in Rivendell?" Erestor shrugged his shoulders. "I was only playing Melkor's advocate, my lord. I knew you wanted all the options laid out on the ta

Chapter 27: 27 - Double your pleasure, double your surfing abilities or Water Pistols of Fate Chapter Text Chapter 27 - Double your pleasure, double your surfing abilities or Water Pistols of Fate Chapter 27 Double your pleasure, double your surfing abilities or Water Pistols of Fate *** Bodies in the sand Tropical drink melting in your hand We'll be falling in love To the rhythm of a steel drum band Down in Kokomo Kokomo Beach Boys *** "Muindor!" whispered Elrohir," Your flirting will get us in trouble!" Elladan punched him good-naturedly on the arm. "She needed flirting with!" "Jail-bait!" "You flirted with jail-bait last month!" "Well, I did not kiss her and we were not staying for any considerable amount of time! Oh, look!" He pointed with his chin ahead of them. "Here comes the Posse!" Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall were bearing down on the two Elves from opposite directions. "Which one do you want to flirt with?" The two slowed, allowing the two professors to block their way. Professor McGonagall had her wand out, but Albus seemed to be taking this surprise visit in stride. "You seek Bronwyn." He crooked a finger and motioned them to follow him. "Albus!" Minerva croaked. "This is most-" "Minerva. It is all right." He looked back at the twins. "Your father is here. Strange; he was under the impression the two of you were dead." The two smiled at each other. "Good!" The one - Elrohir - on the left whispered. "Do you think he will-" "-berate us?" "Nah. Beat us?" "I think not. Maybe he will-" All together... "Weep for joy?" They shook their heads. "N'uma - Ada never-" "-weeps." Minerva looked dizzy trying to keep up with the two. As the twins chattered amongst themselves, they reached Bronwyn's classrooms. Elrohir was becoming more and more introspective, taking in the dungeon. "Great Iluvatar! No wonder she is ill!" he whispered. "You knew Professor Powell was ill?" Albus asked innocently. "An owl sent from Ada to a Professor Snape, reached us instead. Pesky thing. Said his-" "-name was ‘Owl'. Who would name their-" "owl, ‘Owl'?" "Perhaps he meant ‘Al'?" "N'uma. I heard correctly. His name is ‘Owl'." "I do not agree with you. ‘Al'." "Owl!" "Al!" The two elderly professors watched the twin sons of Elrond argue back and forth like young Elflings. They were now standing in front of the door. Albus raised his hand to knock and when the door opened, twin voices chirped out... "Mae Govannen, Adar! We are home!" *** Bronwyn had been phasing in and out of awareness, semi- conscious of voices, cheerfulness, much talking. Several times, she awoke to see Severus sitting in a chair next to her, watching her intently, black eyes glittering in the semi-dark. When she slept, he perused her books, her collection of music. He had closely inspected the piece of cross-stitch next to the chair. It was the same piece she had been working on when she first arrived. More was complete and he could clearly see the image and he wondered if she saw what he did. A couple in a passionate embrace; the woman in full skirts, voluptuous, with an abundance of rich brown hair; the man, behind her, tall, slender, with long dark hair and a seemingly long nose... *Oh yes, he was under her skin. Even if she didn't know it!* He stayed in her bedroom, giving Elrond and his sons privacy. Elrond was torn between disbelief, anger, and utter joy. Severus decided he had seen the Elf as close to giddy as he had ever been. He fussed over Bronwyn, who drifted in and out of consciousness, but he expected it - the vial contained a potent combination of decongestants and other expectorants, causing her to cough up a great deal of phlegm in her sleep. She hung over the edge of the bed; the more she coughed up, the more her lungs seem to make. He was not going to wait this out- "Severus." Elrond's voice broke the Potions Master's reverie. The Elf was standing at the corner of the bed, looking less care-worn than he had when he arrived. "I did not mean for you to hide. Come down and meet my ions." Severus laced his fingers together and locked his gaze on Bronwyn. "I

Hello, my friends!! I just dropped by to do a roll call and see how everyone is doing. What have you been up to, following any good fandoms at the moment? I'm so thankful for the Lord of the Rings fandom and my introduction to the main elf we all love and admire, Haldir.

Chapter 26 – With this lung I thee medicate or The Elf Brigade Chapter 26 With this lung, I thee medicate or The Elf Brigade *** Deep, deep, blessed darkness. No sound, no light, no Big Elf with the angry fist, no naked woman dancing in the sand. The Voyeur sank into the soft down of his surroundings. Warmed blankets and quilts were piled around him and he felt himself sigh in contented bliss, enveloped in the cocoon of the sweet splendor of uninterrupted sleep. The bed smelled of her, of roses, the slight trace of her sex. It was too good to be true, too good to last. The quilts flew off the bed and he rolled, hearing the whoosh of air as the cane was raised. It whacked the empty mattress where his legs had been scant seconds before. “What are you trying to do, you meddling old biddy?” He stared into the malicious eyes of the Woman’s Nana. “Cripple me?” “Ye allowed my gel to get sick, you arse! You allowed-“ “I allowed nothing of the sort. Her husband neglected to tell me until it was too late-“ “Ye allowed it! Yer supposed to be an intelligent Wizard. All ye’ve been able to think about the past weeks is getting into her bed, between her legs!” The Voyeur circled around the bed, closely watching the cane. “I beg to differ with you, old woman.” As he advanced, the stick came down sharply; he caught it neatly and yanked it from the old woman’s grasp. “No more. No more will I sit by and allow you or the Elf to deride and torture me.” He stood tall over the gnarled, bent figure. “She is ill! I know she is ill! I have used the herbs the Elf suggested-“ “Ye Gods!” the old woman shrieked, “She will be sick for ages, waiting for those natural herbs to kick in! They should have been administered before she became ill!” She squinted angrily up at the tall Wizard. “Would ye sit down? Yer hurtin’ my neck!” From nowhere, her rocking chair materialized and she sat slowly, easing creaking joints into the chair. “One would think the Power that is would allow some comfort in your ghostage!” the Voyeur snarled, allowing himself to settle on the edge of the bed. He kept a tight grip on her cane. “One would think ye’d notice she had become ill! Ye have not shared the information found in the trunk with her!” The Voyeur’s brain reeled with the sudden change in subjects. “We have had other things to deal with, woman.” “I know. Her bow!” She waved her hand dismissively. “It will show up when it’s good and ready.” “You know where it is?” “I have my suspicions.” She shrugged. ” `Tis rather obvious!” “Tell me!” The Voyeur gritted between clenched teeth. The old woman inspected her nails. “What? And spoil the fun of the search? When the time comes.” She held up a knobby finger. “Maybe.” Shrewd eyes glinted dangerously. “Share the information in the trunk with my gel.” Her expression softened. “She deserves to know.” “She might not appreciate the implications.” The woman leaned forward. “What d’ye think she will do? Deny ye yer heritage? If you think that, ye do not know m’gl!” She settled back in the chair and rocked for a moment, deep in thought. “Tell me what Elvish and other medicines ye have tried?” The Voyeur listed off the things she had taken, what the Elf had recommended, what the Medi-witch had done. “And have ye contacted the Peredhil – the Half- Elven?” He nodded his assent. “No doubt, he will infuse her with more natural remedies. Nothing wrong with natural remedies, mind ye, but sometimes, one needs something with more kick than what the Mother provided for us.” An evil smile lit on the old woman’s features. “Lean closer, boy. If the Peredhil’s ministrations are too slow, try this…” The Voyeur’s eyes widened as the old woman gave him a recipe for a potion that amused him to the core. *** Bronwyn had deteriorated rapidly during the day. Severus felt it and he chaffed, waiting for a response from the Elves. That the weather was dismal, he cared not, but her frailness was over-whelming to his senses. His temper was foul, even towards his beloved Slytherins, when the door to his classroom flew open, a small First Year standing in the dim

Chapter 25 – Welcome to the Dungeon! We got flu and snot! or Eggs Benedict Slytherin It was noisy. Bottles were being flung, women screamed. The streets rang with the sounds of fighting and smashing glass. The Big Elf stood at the window, the firelight from outside, lighting his face. He stared out of the window, his jaw clenched in fury. The Voyeur looked around, darkness penetrating the room from beyond the window. There was a bed in the far corner. In it the Woman was sleeping deeply. A small child lay in a smaller bed nearby. The Voyeur took a step towards the Elf. “Do not move.” The Voyeur did as requested. “If you are going to kill me, I would prefer you get it over with.” The Elf snorted. “Kill you? Aye. I would enjoy nothing more than squeezing the very life from your throat.” There was an explosion from beneath the window, a flash of light and the Elf stepped back, his eyes narrowing. “Unfortunately, if I did that , there would be no one to help her in her quest; to aid her in her search.” He narrowed his eyes, as he stared out of the window. “Umbar. City of the Corsairs. Stinking, rotting, waste of rock.” He turned away from the window and moved further from the Voyeur. “Dangerous town, dangerous men. We hid in this room for days, waiting for a chance to run, to escape. I should never have allowed her to talk me into it; l should never have allowed her to put our child into danger. It was the last time I did not listen to my inner voice.” The Elf was quiet for a moment. “That is not true. I did not listen to my inner voice one other time.” “And what other time was that?” The Voyeur asked. The Elf’s chest rose, lungs filling with air. “The day I looked in Galadriel’s mirror and saw you.” Ah. A revelation. “Listen carefully. As much as I dream of ending your life, I cannot. And as much as you would like to bind her to you for no other reason than it angers me or it soothes your tortured hormones, you must heed my words.” “More words to heed, more clues to find, more insight to her tortured life. You do go on.” The Voyeur found himself pressed against the wall, held there by the Elf’s strong grip. “Give me one reason why I should not kill you?” “Her bow.” The Elf thumped him against the wall before dropping him to the floor. “She is ill. Her rooms, her chambers, the castle is making her ill. Her lungs begin to constrict. You must counteract it.” The Voyeur straightened his robes and put his collar and cuffs back in order. “Ill? She was perfectly healthy last night. Lungs were fine. Screamed my ear off!” He found himself pinned to the wall yet again. “If you wish to die a lingering, agonizing death, continue on this road you insist on taking!” He was thumped, hard, twice, before being released again. The Voyeur immediately bore down on the Elf. “I will not apologize for bedding her and if you thump me one more…” He came up short, several packets of dried leaves and herbs shoved into his face. “Recognize these?” The Voyeur snatched them from the Elf. “Peppermint, Camomile – German, Echinacea, Lemonbalm… What is all this?” “Find it. Use it. Put it in her tea, get it down her anyway you can. If this does not help, contact Elrond.” The Voyeur found himself grasped and dragged to the outer wall of the room. The wall faded away and the fires of the night’s revelry could be seen clearly. The Voyeur tried to grasp at the Elf’s hands, arms as he was backed up to the edge. For a short moment, he was jerked into the Elf’s face. “Watch out for her, care for her, heal her. She is My Treasure, My Air, My most Precious Jewel!” And with the last word, he shoved the Voyeur over the edge… Severus hit the bed painfully, flat on his back… Echinacea leaves littering the bed. It was noisy. Bottles were being flung, women screamed. The streets rang with the sounds of fighting and smashing glass. The Big Elf stood at the window, the firelight from outside, lighting his face. He stared out of the window, his jaw clenched in fury. The Voyeur looked around, darkness penetrating the room from beyond the window. There was a bed in the far corn

Chapter 24: 24 - Walking in Fields of Green or I heard my Mama cry... I heard her pray the night ole Voldie died... Chapter Text As usual, it ain't mine, I'll give them back , maybe when I'm done and love to Dame, GotSnape and Alex for putting up with my bs. Chapter 24 Walking in Fields of Green or I heard my Mama cry... I heard her pray the night ole Voldie died... *** And we will dream, you and I, And we will run through the tall green grass That grows beside the river of Lorien We will splash in the rapids and roll in the silver sands of the water's edge When night comes, we will rest high in the treetops, With only the stars to witness our loving. Dame Niamh *** The woods. Lorien, with the great Golden Mallorns rising above her. Ah. How long had it been since these trees rose gloriously over Middle Earth? How long... Shit. Shitshitshit! Bronwyn's shoulders slumped, head bowed. For so long, she begged, screamed to be allowed this, and on the night she fell into another's arms... allowed another to pleasure her... She hadn't fallen... she had catapulted herself at him! I have got to get out of here! Quickly, Bronwyn made her way down the path, trying to keep an eye on the trees, where the Galadhrim had built their flets to rain arrows on their enemies. Nononono, she chanted to herself. Not today of all- "Baraermin?" For a split second, Bronwyn allowed herself to savor the sound of that word, spoken by that voice. How long had she begged, pleaded for him to come to her... She took off in a run, swatting at the low lying brush, feeling the sting of slender branches whip across her face... Running with a painful ‘thud' into a tree... No. Not a tree. Strong hands gripped her shoulders as she looked up, terrified of what she would see. She pulled away, crying. "Haldir." Bronwyn sagged, in an attempt to fall to her knees. The Big Elf held her firm, his dark blue eyes, filled with concern and confusion. "Baraer, why do you run from me?" Tears that had been threatening to spill finally poured from her eyes. "Oh, m'aelamin. I'm sorry.... sooo sorry. I'm weak, I'm stupid, I have..." she collapsed in his embrace, sobbing. She felt herself being scooped up in strong arms and carried to the nearest mallorn. Haldir sat and arranged her in his lap, her head on his shoulder. Cocooned in his arms, he allowed her to cry for several minutes, before finally stating to her, "You feel you have betrayed our love because you have shared yourself with the Wizard." Bronwyn let her head fall on his chest and cried until she had hiccups. "Dry your eyes, Baraermin." She felt the soft material of his tunic swipe across her face. Blinking, she found herself in Galadriel's garden at Caras Galadhon. Haldir pulled her to a standing position. She noticed that everything - the roses, the camellias, the daffodils, were in full bloom. "Come. Talk with me." Although he smiled, his eyes were dark, saddened. She could clearly see the burden of her sin weighing him down. "Scream at me, rail at me. Anything. I don't deserve..." "My anger? My fury?" Haldir turned her to face him. "Yes, it is there, but not at you. I am angry at the Wizard, angry at the Valar, angry at myself." He laid a finger gently across her lips. "N'uma. Say nothing. It is hard for you to say nothing and be quiet. I know." That comment elicited a growl from her and he gloried in that sound. He pulled her into a fierce hug and held her close. "So long. So long I have desired to hold you, to feel the warmth of you." "Then why? Why didn't you come to me?" Her sob was muffled in his tunic. "Why have you waited so long to come to me?" She pushed back angrily. "You have come to Severus almost every night, stalking him, showing him Iluvatar knows what! But you could not spare a thought for me! Your wife!" "Aye! My wife! Amin!" Haldir's smile was grim. "And what would you have done had I come to you every night? Every sleeping moment?" He took in her slow realization. "Aye. You would live to sleep. To hell with your bow, to hell with the world of men. You would live to sleep." He reached out to her

Tel Lindar 23 Oh, you’re a sweet – talker, Professor Snape! (ACK!!) Or Gurgling down the Shower Drain of Life *** “You bastard! You mother fucking bastard!” Bronwyn followed him to the floor, hitting the carpet with an audible thud. Severus backed up, crab like on all fours, until he was pressed against the pianoforte’s legs. What had he done to warrant this? Thinking quickly, he Accio’d his wand from beneath his pillow, flicking her in the back of her head, which made her screech louder – as if such a thing was possible! She was now cursing him in what sounded like Russian… maybe Italian… did it really matter?… Severus decided he felt very vulnerable, naked on the floor, so pulling up on the piano, he turned and pointed the wand. “Lumos!” The lights around the bed, the room, came on and he attempted to stare down the wild haired screaming banshee in front of him. A banshee who had finally returned to screaming in an intelligible language. “You sorry, slimy, greasy, mother fucking, pain in the arse, rat-bast-“ “Leave My Mother Out Of Your Tirade!” She stopped. For half a second. Inhale. “Don’t you dare hide behind her skirts! Damn her for not using birth control! Or at least feigning a headache the night you were conceived!” Her breathing was labored and in the dim light, Severus could see the obvious tears she was fighting. She angrily wiped them with the backs of her hands. “Where the hell is your brain?” she spat. “Last I looked, it was lodged securely in my cranium, woman!” It was a Snape-worthy reply, one that had every inch of angry Bronwyn launched at him. He let her smack at him; it appeared to bring her great pleasure. He was busy listening to her outraged bellowing. “My urges? My physical urges? What the hell do you take me for? A teenaged boy?” She stepped back, hands on hips, chest heaving. “Well?” Several seconds passed as the two gathered their thoughts. Snape tried to regain the upper hand (as well as one could, standing naked). “Bronwyn. I am more than aware of the depth of your feelings for your husband. You are lonely. You have needs.” He ran his hands through his hair. “You are a healthy woman…” “Needs? Dammit, Severus! I have toys for those kind of needs!” Snape choked. “If you can manage to crawl out of the shit hole you’ve dug, I might.,.. MIGHT… let you check them out!” Bronwyn dug the heels of her palms into her eyes. “What is wrong with you? I can’t figure you out!” She peered up at him from behind her hands. “Do you think that I would … use you for physical release? That I’m that shallow?” Severus’ shoulders slumped, both of them feeling the same resignation. Did he truly have to spell it out for her? “Bronwyn. I was not born last night. I know how much you love and miss your husband. I am not blind when I look in the mirror…” She launched herself at him again. “You Dunderhead! Is THAT what this is all about? Your looks?” She turned loose of him and stood back, her gaze beseeching. “Do you want to know what I see when I look at you?” Her voice was deceptively quiet. “I see that piano!” She pointed to the instrument he was leaning on. “It’s battered, scarred, It’s been misused, ignored, by-passed.” She pulled up to him, stroking his chest, fingers trailing the many scars crisscrossing his chest. She finally flattened her palm against him. “But open it up, with the right touch, the right… stroke… it becomes something precious. Its sound, timbre is rich, expressive.” Her eyes glittered fire in the lamplight. “That is because it is played by a master, Bronwyn.” He whispered truthfully. “Don’t interrupt.” she chided humorously. “Regardless, I think you think too much when you look in the mirror.” He raised an eyebrow at that. Her hand raised, a single finger stroking down the long nose. “You should not look at this,” her fingers trailed down to the scars on his chest and arms, “nor should you linger on these,” the fingers traced lightly around the Death Mark. “You should especially not think harshly of this.” Her fingers, hand trailed back to his sternum, tracing over his heart. “When I look at you,

warnung - there be sex in this chapter. Chapter 22 Don't you sit under the Lemon Tree with Nobody Else but me! or I wanna be your Sledgehammer The sunlight filtered gently between the leaves of the great mallorn trees, sunbeams dancing on the water of the peaceful river. Leaves fell and gently swirled in the eddies of the current, while mist rose from the waters and blanketed the fallen leaves and flowers Something else floated in the quiet waters. Memories, thoughts, the lingering of a sweet lover's first kiss. The big Elf stood in the water, head bowed. Giant tears flowed, dripping from his cheeks. His jaw ticked in fury, his fist clenched, as he fought back the stinging in his eyes. Looking into the water, his vision a blurred haze, he saw the rounded object bumping against his boot. He bent over to retrieve the item. He knew what it was the moment he grasped it. A soggy, partially eaten orange. ‘Geez, Haldir! Look what you have done...' An elegant shoulder lifted to wipe the juice from a soft cheek. ‘N'uma. Let me...' A kiss. The big Elf closed his eyes, in pain, in grief. He did not jump when the gentle hand touched him on the shoulder. "Why do you grieve, Haldir of Lorien?" He squeezed the remains of the orange, juice dripping from between his fingers. "Because tonight she sacrifices herself on the altar of her bed. She sacrifices our love, our bonding at your behest. At your command, she whores herself..." "Haldir. Do you truly see her as a whore?" For a moment, nothing was heard but the sound of the water, laughing around rocks. "N'uma. No, I do not." He dropped the orange, mashed beyond recognition and the two watched it float away, the last reminder of the sweetest memory. The Valar walked to stand at his side, the water drenching her form. "Tell me, Haldir. What do you truly feel? What lies in your heart?" Anguished eyes met the sapphire richness of the deity. "Tonight, she will go to him, she will go willingly and give him what is mine. Amin! She has no choice. By your decree, there is no choice." He looked out over the waters. "Tonight, she will be no longer mine and mine alone." He dropped his eyes, ashamed. "And you ask why I grieve." "Haldir. Tonight, this act will begin to open their inner eyes. She will begin to discover, through this act, that she can trust him, trust his judgment. With this act, he will begin to discover that she can teach him, that he can be more than what he thinks he was meant to be. With this newly forged trust, they step closer to finding what was lost." The Big Elf's eyes flew to her face, his hands grabbing, clutching at the Valar's. "Tell me, my Lady, promise me," he pleaded, "that this will guarantee that her bow will be found!" The Valar smiled sadly. "Alas, there is no guarantee. But their chances improve." She watched as the Big Elf snorted in disappointment. "The more they rely on each other, each other's talents, the more likely the chances of them finding it, of allowing her to teach her descendant." "She will feel guilt of this night. She will roam inward and gnaw on her own soul." "That she will. Perhaps, you should consider using one of your dream visits to assure her of your love, of her path." "They are numbered. I may only go to her but a few times." He was squeezing her hands, gripping them tightly, not realizing... "Yes, they are and you know why your contact with her has been limited. But as you say, she will feel great guilt. Haldir." The gentle Valar removed her hands from his grip and laid the palms to rest on his cheeks. "Would you have her alone? Would you have her flounder? Would you have her without anyone to protect her?" "N'uma." It was whispered, wrung out from a aging voice. The Elf turned back to the flowing water, ashamed of the catch in his throat. His words were hard. "She will love him. She will love him and forget about us and our life..." "Din!" It was sharp, spoken with the command of a powerful being. "Her love for you will never wane. You are bound to her and she will be returned to you if she is able to complete this task!" "But she will l

Chapter 21 - Oh God, I'm in Disco hell or Dream a little Wet Dream Disclaimer: ***blink blink*** what's that? Chapter 21 Oh God, I'm in Disco hell or Dream a little Wet dream *** The hallway was dark, barely lit, but even so, the Voyeur could tell it was late at night. He looked around, took in the cut stone of the walls, the sconces hung in the carved marble. He could feel at home in these cold walls. Voices. But of course, there are voices, he thought snidely. Never have a dream anymore where there weren't voices or music or nude women who dance in the sand. He rather enjoyed the nude woman who danced in the sand! Around the corner, two Elves crept. They were not dressed like the Big Elf or his entourage. These were dressed in woodland greens. Their hair was blonde, more yellow, and not the moonlight white of the Big Elf and his kin or the silver of the Lord of Lorien. One was carrying her. She was slung over his shoulder, curvaceous legs and hips held with a firm grip. She was not struggling and he stepped back as they passed. She wasn't struggling because she was apparently either passed out or drugged. Or under a sleep spell. "I do not think the King should do this. The March Warden will come for her!" The one not carrying the woman was obviously stressed, worried. His voice, even though whispered, was full of concern. "I do not advise the king, I simply follow his orders! Sweet Elbereth! She is heavy!" "But still, Leaduin, You saw how the March Warden was at the mereth! Once he realizes she is gone, he will unleash his fury. I do not think the Silver Lord will stop him!" The Elf carrying the Woman turned on his companion. "And what would you have me do? Tell the king no? Tell him that he should slake his lust on a more willing female? Forgive me, my friend, but I have no desire to spend the next two centuries studying the rocks last perused by a bunch of Dwarves!" "This could start a war with Lorien! The last thing we need is The Lady of Light as our enemy! ‘Tis bad enough, we are hardly on speaking terms with the Lord of Imladris!" The Elf - Leaduin - turned back to his companion, his hand laid gently on the woman's rounded bum. "Fine. You tellThranduil no." A look of pure horror crept onto that one's face. "ME?" he squeaked. "Me? Do you think I have a death wish?" "Neither do I!" Leaduin turned with his cumbersome burden and continued on. "At least we do not have guard duty outside their door. Let us deposit this one and hie as far as possible from this side of cave." The two Elves and the Woman disappeared around the corner. Hmmm. Interesting. The Voyeur stood for a moment, wondering if he should follow or stay put. He decided to stay put. After all, this was a dream and the Big Elf would sooner or later come and make proclamations and tell him how to act and think... at least how he should act and think. He leaned against the wall and proceeded to inspect his nails. He was not left alone for long. The Big Elf came around the corner, his face a mask of unadulterated fury. He wore nothing but barely laced leggings, the pale skin across the sinews of his arms and chest standing out in hard lines. He carried a rather wicked sword - not the one with the strange markings, the Voyeur noticed, - strapped to his back and he watched the Big Elf's approach with much interest. "They went that way." the Voyeur thumbed the direction. "Follow me!" The Elf stalked by and the Voyeur heard him mumble under his breath, "Neithadol!" "Neithadol... that means Wronghead, correct?" The Big Elf never stopped as he continued to quietly prowl down the cavern hall. "Never let it be said that you are a stupid Wizard!" The Voyeur continued to follow, acting rather like an amused tourist, taking in the sights. "So, what is this lovely place called?" "We are in Mirkwood... the Greenwood." The Elf's response was clipped. "Ah." The Voyeur sounded almost jovial. "And who owns this luxurious mansion?" "It is a cave, and it is occupied by King Thranduil, King of Greenwood." "Ah!" The Voyeur's robes swished behind him. "I take it this... King... is

Chapter 20 - THe Mystics Dream or Speak to me of Love and Roses and Wolf howls Chapter 20 The Mystics Dream or Speak to me of love and roses and wolf howls. *** The Voyeur did not have to open his eyes. He knew where he was. The heat, the feel of the sand around his bare feet, robes light, moving in the breeze. The desert. Again. A clouded dream on an earthly night Hangs upon the crescent moon A voiceless song in an ageless light Sings at the coming dawn Again, the music, floating on the stifling heated air. His eyes slowly opened, looking and finding. The Woman. He strode off towards her, tired of the constant rifling of his mind, of his every thought turning to her, like waves in the desert, the dunes, turning to face the wind. I think I would rather have the fist of the Big Elf in my face rather than this... this... He was suddenly close enough to touch her. And decided, no. Perhaps, this is preferable. Birds in flight are calling there Where the heart moves the stones It's there that my heart is calling All for the love of you She stood with her back to him, swaying gently to the music, arms out, hands poetic. Her gown, her veils were diaphanous, transparent, and in the glow of the moon, he could see the length of her leg, the sweet curve of her buttocks, the soft indention of her waist. Oh yes, most definitely preferable. He stood behind, watching, allowing the sway of her body to communicate, to speak. She moved, turned. Her eyes were closed, her body surrendered to the eastern, erotic flow of the music. Graceful hands flowed around her body, above her head, almost hypnotic in flow. As he watched, he realized, he knew this dance. A painting hangs on an ivy wall Nestled in the emerald moss The eyes declare a truce of trust And then it draws me far away She turned her back to him, hips beckoning in that ageless, ancient way. Her movement spoke, communicated in a language older than any he knew. It was not a loud voice, nor a demand. Ageless. Timeless. He stepped in behind her and the question crossed his mind... how many before me? How many have asked of this and have responded? He moved in, scant inches separating them and as her hand lifted to beckon the music, his hand lifted also, perfectly mirrored behind hers. Where deep in the desert twilight Sand melts in pools of the sky When darkness lays her crimson cloak Your lamps will call me home For what seemed an eternity, they moved, moved as one, never touching, never facing each other. Her knee lifted, foot poised to step back, and he answered, moving with her, maintaining that small distance between. The breeze was slight and it wrapped her robes, his, around their bodies, hiding little. The call of the eastern instruments, the strum of the sitar, the throbbing of the dumbek, matched his heartbeat, his very breath. And so it's there my homage's due Clutched by the still of the night And now I feel you move Every breath is full The heat of the night was becoming more and more oppressive and as she turned, moving within the large circle of his arms, slowly the veils that so poorly concealed her sweet curves came off, floating in a puddle at their feet. Without regard to her impending nudity, she continued; continued to undulate to the beat of the music, continue to sway, continued to... Charm the Serpent. He realized at the moment the last veil drifted to the sand why he recognized the dance, why he knew the dance. Her dance was age old, his part was the Seduction of the Charmer. When she turned, oblivious to her nakedness, he allowed his fingertips to brush her cheek, graze her jaw line and for a scant second, she allowed the caress, before moving out of reach. Before he could inhale, she moved back inward, her touch brushing aside the loose shirt he wore. On the dance went. She moved in, his fingertips touching, stroking the flesh of her neck, her shoulder, soft, soft, creamy skin warming to his touch. Her hand slowly removed his clothing, until his shirt and trousers were lying in a pile in the sand, the dance continuing until both were naked, both were a hair's

Chapter 19 - The Unlikeliest Slytherin or Dancing in the Dungeon Chapter 19 The Unlikeliest Slytherin or Dancing in the Dungeon It was dark, the full moon reflecting on the ripples of the ocean. The Voyeur felt the rush of cool water playing around his ankles and he looked down to see the water rushing in on the swirling of the tide, the edges of his robes floating and encrusted with sand. I still recall the taste of your tears. echoing your voice just like the ringing in my ears. my favorite dreams of you still wash ashore. scraping through my head 'till I don't want to sleep anymore His head jerked up at the sound of the music and honing in on the sound, he began to follow, his passage marked by footprints and the strange scratching left in the sand by the drape of his wet robe. you make this all go away. I'm down to just one thing and I'm starting to scare myself. The robe was dragging him, holding him back, slowing him down. He peeled it off, leaving it in a pile on the sand. Ahead, was a shadow, a figure. It was too small, too rounded to be the Big Elf. The Voyeur looked around cagily, warily. Nowhere. The Big Elf was nowhere in sight. you always were the one to show me how. back then I couldn't do the things that I can do now this thing is slowly taking me apart. grey would be the color if I had a heart Clothing was oppressive, layers and layers of clothes. Heat, choking him, stifling him... burdensome . Without thought, his hands moved to the froggings, the buttons of his frock coat, fingers working swiftly through the fastenings. He slowly bore down on the figure of The Woman. His coat hit the sand. in this place it seems like such a shame. though it all looks different now, I know it's still the same Quickly, almost too quickly, he was upon her, grabbing her, turning her around. In slow motion, the gauzy material of her dress floated in the wind as eyes blinked up at him... ...as a generous mouth smiled up at him. Her mouth moved, but no sound issued forth. Her voice whispered in his head. What do you want? Eyes glared down at the laughing woman. What was she laughing at? Him? Her hands were at his shirt, unbuttoning, sliding the linen from his shoulders. What do you want? Fingers played down his sternum, following the thin line of crisp black hair... What do you want? Lower... lower... His hand grabbed hers, stopping its descent. Slowly, he brought the fingers to his mouth, licking, nipping the pads. You. I want you. I want all of it... all of you... your body, your love, your heart, your soul... Her fingers pulled back, and hands began to trace, roam his arms, his shoulders, down, down, down... to that hated mark. She turned his hand over and traced the tattoo on his arm. You would ask that of me? After this? everywhere I look you're all I see. just a fading fucking reminder of who I used to be Her eyes were heated and he could see the perspiration dripping down her neck, falling between her breasts... You would ask me that? After the Evil One demanded the same from you? The Voyeur traced the droplet from her neck to her soft cleavage, hooking his finger into the cloth. No. It will be different. I would not use you, I would not force... I just want something. I just want something I can never have. The woman stepped back, as if to turn away. "No! Please!" He pulled her back, her dress ripping, the sound loud, screaming in his ears... "I need..." ~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~ "...You... Please Bronw-" Snape's eyes popped open, the sound of his voice so loud that he had awakened himself. The ache in his groin did not help the situation. With a sneer at his own weakness, he took matters into his own hands and finished himself, quickly, damning himself as her name fell from his lips at the first spurt of orgasm. So wrapped in his own self-loathing, he was not aware that for her the dream had continued. In her dream, she had allowed him to rip the garment from her body. Had removed the rest of his clothing for him and pressed him into the soft sand. Had ridden him until her o

Chapter 18 - A Deal with the Baron or Shine Your Little Lights SSDD - you know what I claim and you know what I cain't. Yada yada yada! Chapter 18 A Deal with the Baron or Shine your little lights *** The final days before the beginning of school were upon them and the staff of Hogwarts was in a flurry of activity. Bronwyn spent most of her time in Snape's classroom, pretending all was fine. Her lesson planner perched precariously in her lap, with her schedule tucked neatly inside. Her class lists and her required topics sat on the table, spread between cauldrons. Due to the near annihilation of the entire race of Wizards, it had been decided to make Muggle Studies a required subject for all years. The block scheduling was proving to be a headache launcher for Bronwyn. "Gad! I'll have the ENTIRE school population over a two- day span! Good thing I have a huge room!" She flipped back and forth between the Standards list and her planner. "Wars, wars, plague and more wars." She scowled at the Potions Master. "That's all the Ministry want me to drum into their widdle heads!" Snape had taken off his customary jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves. Graceful hands moved from cauldron to cauldron, stirring, adding ingredients, his lips muttering incantations over multi-colored hues and tones. "I am sure you will find a way to infuse them with the required knowledge." He never looked up. "With your background, I am sure you will make up some ridiculous ditty that will aid in their rote memorization." Bare toes lightly scuffed across the pelt of the sleeping wolf beneath her stool. Covertly, from the corners of his eyes, Severus had watched Bronwyn fill in her planner, using a mechanical pencil. The Muggle writing utensil fascinated him and several times he had bitten his tongue for want of asking her to allow him to inspect it closely. The area around the cauldrons was hot and Severus focused on the sweat beading on her brow, as well as the lovely droplets rolling down into her cleavage. She wore shorts and a low - cut tank top, granting him a most generous view of her charms. Unconsciously, she rubbed her hand beneath her neck, spreading glistening drops of moisture. "It's so hot in here. How do you stand it?" Snape's eyes were riveted on the cauldron in front of him, a potion for Poppy nearing its completion. "If you find it stifling, I would suggest you use your own desk." With this, he did look up, staring at her through the steam. "You do have one." Bronwyn had the gall to look sheepish. "I can't find it." she muttered. "I beg your pardon, madam. Please speak up and speak clearly. I cannot hear you over the hissing of my fires." That was a lie. He could hear her perfectly. Truth was, Severus loved to watch her squirm. Which she was doing right now, quite well. Amadeus sat up, perked white ears peeking over the table. Bronwyn took a deep breath. " I said, I cannot find it." Severus put down his wand and ladle and came around the table, getting just close enough to feel her stiffen. As he arrived just inside her comfort zone, he leaned over casually with one elbow on the table. He put his other hand on his arm, long fingers drumming indifferently. "You have lost your desk?" Her head dipped meekly and she looked up at him through the fringe of her lashes . "No, silly. It isn't lost. It's buried." "Oh." Severus puckered his mouth in thought. "First, it was lost and now it is not lost, but is buried. Did I miss the funeral? When was the desk's demise and what was the cause of death?" The look on her face was priceless. Amadeus lay back down, chuffing quietly before going back to gnawing on the stool leg. "Bronwyn, you will let in flies. Shut your mouth." She snapped it shut with a loud ‘click' of her teeth. Slowly, dawning caressed her face. "Ooooooooh!" Her smile stretched from ear to ear. "Snape Spoofs." She dipped her head again and wagged her eyebrows. "I'm rubbing off on you!" Snape twisted his body, his back now leaning on the heavy table, with his arms crossed. He leaned over, his face inches from hers. "Madam, if you tel

for my birthday. Hey y’all. on my facebook, I’m doing a fundraiser for my birthday. I’m hoping to raise funds for prevention of brain hemorrhages, that that killed my son. If anyone wants to give, I would be so appreciative. https://www.facebook.com/donate/1060030031663774/ Thank you. Happy Thanksgiving. -- zee I'm selfish, impatient, and a little insecure. I make mistakes. I am out of control and at times, hard to handle.But if you can't handle me at my worst, you absolutely don't deserve me at my best!

Chapter 17 - Much ado about Bronwyn or Ain't no Werewolf high enough Thank you Mal for the Elvish swearing and thank you Dame for catching my Americanisms. Additional disclaimer: It is widely and openly assumed that Tolkien wrote Shire weed to be a hallucinogenic and I have written it as such. I do NOT condone the use of illegal drugs of any kind. Chapter 17 Much ado about Bronwyn or Ain't no Werewolf high enough *** Your protection and your friendship Were always desired, And my heart's great love Stories and songs Old as the mountains Strong and brave with age. Na Laethe Bhi Clannad *** The sound of the rails was hypnotic and even Severus found himself lulled into a sense of non-awareness. He was overwhelmed by exhaustion and he found himself nodding off to sleep whilst trying to churn on his own thoughts.. Mentally slapping himself, he forced himself to sit up and take in the woman and wolf across from him. She had done her damnedest to avoid him, to make sure they did not touch. The wider the distance between the two, the more relaxed she was. However, he knew she was fighting her attraction to him, for when he was close enough to touch her, her body tightened, her mind froze. It did not take much for it all to come flooding back; the kiss, her fantasy in the tub... Ah. That fantasy. Had he not heard what fell from her lips, even feeling the turmoil in her head, he would not have believed. Hal... ...vrussss... If Severus had been one to cackle, he would have. Slytherins do NOT cackle. Well, the older female Slytherins MIGHT. But the men? Never. Instead, he gloated. Neither one had slept well afterwards. Two more nights in that infernal house; Bronwyn in the larger bed and bedroom, tossing and turning, Severus in the child's room, waiting for the old crone to appear. The old witch did not show herself to him, but he could hear her; he could hear the creaking of her chair. And twice, he had felt the whisper of a cool, gentle hand move the hair from his face. Severus shook himself again, banishing lingering thoughts. He leaned over, resting his elbows on his knees and propped his chin on the back of his fingers. What to do about Bronwyn? She had avoided him like the Black Death, wavering, battling with her conscious. She had sat, sunken - eyed across from him at the table in the mornings, eating cereal with too much sugar. She had spoken as little as possible, monosyllables, would not; could not look him in the eye. However, on a few occasions, when she was up to her eyeballs in computer paper, he had heard giggles and snorts. Sometimes, she had forgotten she was dodging him. "HAH! I knew it!" "You knew what?" Severus was sitting on the sofa, perusing items he had filched from the attic. "According to this quiz, in a past life, you were a snooty amusement park character." Severus laid down the ancient journal. "I was a what?" "A snooty amusement park character." He stood up and quietly made his way behind her. Her beast lay beneath her feet, growling low. "I hear you, you cur. Be silent." He bent over her shoulder to look into the monitor. She immediately stiffened. On the screen was a virtual crystal ball. She had typed the words ‘Severus Snape' into the box provided and in large letters beneath was the line she was reading. "Why are you being so mean to Amadeus?" Bronwyn muttered peevishly. "What has he done to you?" Besides exist? Stays pinned to your side? Crawls in that warm, comfortable bed with his head on your rounded bum that I would die to lick and bite? "I do not hate your mangy mutt. We are old friends." Snape retorted. He watched her type her own name into the box. "Oh, for crying out-loud!" he snapped when the result popped up. "Now I know where Sybil gets her ridiculous seeings!" Bronwyn was giggling like a mad- woman. Bronwyn Morgan. You were an Annoying Wizard in a past life. Her head was down, legs bouncing. He spun on his heel and returned to the living area and the old journal. "You cackle like a hen." Her snickerings worsened. "Are you not supposed to be researching family archives and trees? Stop w

well! I think I'm back on track! New computer - wheeee! Now if I could get McAfee to stop telling me ,e I might have been hacked unless I buy their anti virus ware... Chapter 16 - All wrapped up in something of yours or You're one of my kind... I think... SSDD - none of it's mine. Nope! Nada! Many thanks to bbatmyte for the Welsh. Chapter 16 All wrapped up in something of yours or You're one of my kind... I think... *** Head like a hole Black as your soul I'd rather die Than give you control Head like a hole Nine inch nails *** Bronwyn woke up to a slender beam of sunshine, which, along with Michael Flately, was performing Riverdance on her face. Her mouth was stuffed with cotton and her stomach was rolling. With a groan, she shifted, only to feel a heavy weight move and disappear. A unwieldy thud hit the floor and her ears were assaulted with a dog whining and yowling. Not a dog... Amadeus. She opened one eye and looked for the white beast. Nothing. Wait, he was on the... other side... With a groan, she rolled over and squinted. Amadeus propped both front paws on the bed, peering at her. His long nose prodded her and when he went to lick her face reassuringly... Bronwyn bolted out the bed, stumbling across the floor. She threw her door open and made a beeline for the bathroom. For several gut wrenching minutes she paid homage to the great white throne; praised the coolness of the Porcelain Prince. "Nice loo." she stroked the rounded curve, made to fit her face so well. "Sweet loo." Vaguely, she heard a sound behind her. Amadeus sat in the doorway, head cocked to the side. He snorted in derision, his look obvious to her. The things you get yourself into. She crawled across the floor on hands and knees, coming to rest in front of the great beast. "Don't say a woof. I'm stupid. I was stupid for doing it and I'll be stupid again tonight for repeating this performance. I know I'm being stupid, but I don't know what else to do." With great effort, she used the door jamb to pull herself to her feet. She stared, bleary - eyed, down at the canine. "I smell, don't I?" Amadeus immediately lay down, pulling his paws over his nose. "Thank you. I will remember that next time you go roll in dead shit out in the forest." She made her way back to her room and dug out her bathrobe. She stood in the steamy shower, trying to will away the headache and the nausea. No such luck. Downing two aspirin before throwing on an old t-shirt and a pair of loose fitting sweatpants, she made her way into the hall. ‘Maybe Severus has a hangover potion.' she thought hopefully, standing outside the master bedroom door. It was slightly ajar and she peeked shyly as she pushed it open. She took in the unmade bed, but no cranky Wizard. "Well, I guess he's up already." She turned and glanced down at Amadeus. "Maybe he made a really strong pot of coffee, eh?" In your dreams. Slowly, she made her way down the stairs, pressing her palms firmly to the walls for support. There was no one sitting in the gloom of the living room, no welcome smell of coffee or tea lingering in the air. She made her way into the kitchen and pulling coffee from the refrigerator, she started up the Mr. Coffee machine. "I wonder where Snape is?" she wondered aloud to Amadeus. The wolf chuffed, his nose pointing towards the kitchen table. Bronwyn turned around... "What the..." There under the kitchen table, with one solitary pillow, lay Severus, rolled in a blanket. The coffee maker was making reassuring spitting sounds as Bronwyn made her way to the table and squatted down. Tentatively, she reached out and touched his shoulder. "Severus?" The Wizard sat up with a jerk, reaching for his wand... ... his head connecting sharply with the underside of the table. WHAM! "Ow!" His hand, with his wand firmly clutched, went to his forehead. His face contorted in pain and he glared at the woman, who was stooped down, gaping at him as he crouched under the table. "Severus Snape! What are you doing sleeping under my kitchen table?" Bronwyn's head pounded with each consonant. She backed up and away as t

A/N - All opinions and quotes attributed to the Daily Prophet's *** ahem cough cough*** gossip columnist were directly gakked - ie copied - or paraphrased from the Flamer Journal, Deleterius or the Flamer Message Board, GodAwful Fanfiction. (Gaff). As they have derived so much pleasure ***cough cough*** from my ‘pathetic attempts' at writing, I felt it only fitting that they be given a unique place of honor so they would truly know how very special ***hack hack cough cough*** they are to me. Chapter Text Chapter 15 - The Long, Drunken Arm of Bronny-Poo or Fie! Fie! I Shite on Thee Yes, I am still writing this. No, I still don't own anything you recognize and natch, I'm making like NO mula! Many many thanks to my patient beta's - GotSnape and Alex. Kudos to Dame Niamh for bouncing bunnies and correcting my Latin errors and thanks to Mal for the Elvish swearing. Chapter 15 The Long, Drunken arm of Bronny-poo or Fie! Fie! I Shite on thee *** Sand. Sand again. The air was dry and hot and the Voyeur's lungs burned with grit. He looked to the right. Sand. He looked to the left. The Big Elf. The Voyeur steeled himself, waiting for the onslaught. The onslaught that did not come. The Big Elf smiled wickedly and saluted. Turned and walked away. "What? No stories?" The Big Elf stopped and smiled over his shoulder. "N'uma." He turned and took another step. "No battles? No monsters?" Again, the Big Elf stopped and smiled over his shoulder. "N'uma." "No wonderful scenes of family life?" "N'uma." Damn the Elf! Drag him and here and leave? A snarky smile lit the Voyeur's face. "No punches? I am going to have your wife..." The Big Elf was standing in front, smile locked in, but his eyes, furious. "Tonight, you sleep in her house. Her house contains many memories. More than what I am willing to show you. Tonight, you will crave sleep." And with that, a beautiful smile lit the Elf's face and he turned and walked off. Leaving the Voyeur standing. *** Girl you've never known no one like me Up there in your high society They might tell you I'm no good Girl they need to understand Just who I am I may be a real bad boy But baby I'm a real good man Real Good Man Tim McGraw *** Snape immediately felt her stiffen within his embrace. Her beast moved to her side, whining. Her thoughts were in turmoil... "Bronwyn, why are you afraid?" She stiffened further and yanked herself from his arms. "Afraid? Why would I be afraid?" With that, she picked up Amadeus' leash and stormed off towards the back door, her free hand fumbling in her pocket. Severus glared at her retreating form. Why would she have the need to lie? To him of all people? Coat flaring in the dank mist, he followed her to the dark doorway. He pulled out his wand. "Do you need help?" She was fumbling with the keys. Amadeus was watching, searching, whining. "A light might help." "I can do this for-" "A light might help!" she repeated, tersely. Snape bowed his head in mock supplication. "Lumos." The light from the tip of his wand flared to life and lit the tiny alcove. She quickly found her key and slid it home into the lock. The door opened silently and the two stepped in from the drizzle. "Stay here, while I check out the house and ward the premises properly." Severus warded the door behind her and using his lit wand as a flashlight, went through the cottage, checking for traps, warding doors and windows. Bronwyn sank her fingers into the thick, warm coat of Amadeus. The wolf leaned into her, as if to reassure her. She suddenly realized that he was leashed and she unhooked and removed the loathsome thing. Severus came back through to the kitchen, headed for the door. "The house is clear. Light a fire in the fireplace, madam. This cottage is chilled. I am going to check and ward the outdoors." He stopped for a moment. "And turn on some lights in this place. I have never figured out how you Muggles do it." And with that, he went out the back door and into the night. Bronwyn snorted to herself and flipped on the kitchen light. Her kitchen. Her home. The one she had not been back to since just af

Chapter 14 - Shopping with Snape or Snape goes shopping... WHOOSH! Chapter 14 Shopping with Snape or Snape goes shopping... WHOOSH! *** The sky was dark, twinkling lights overhead as stars older than the Earth moved in their continuous journey. The Voyeur looked up, recognizing many of the constellations and mildly shocked by them. The heat of the night caused his stiff shirt collar to itch and irritate the back of his neck. The Voyeur mindlessly pulled at it, tugging it away from sweat dampened skin. As he looked around he realized that this was yet another landscape, another place. A desert. Sand everywhere; dunes for miles, brightened by the light of the moon. Voices. Voices in the dark... "This is no way to raise a child. This cannot continue." Her voice, the Woman's, quiet, pleading. Not a tone often heard from her. "N'uma. It cannot." The Big Elf's voice... They sat together, near a campfire. Several sleeping Elves, including a small redheaded Elfling lay nearby. "He needs other children, Heru. He needs someone besides us and dirt and..." Her voice trailed off. "Baraermin. Might I suggest?" Sand. and swirling... The Voyeur's temper finally got the best of him. "No! That is it! I cannot and will not take any more!" The Voyeur yanked his hands down and clenched his fists by his side. "I cannot rest, I cannot be still; smelly stinking drinking establishments, bogs with rotting dead bodies, killing, death -" he thrust his hand out, "-naked muddy brats acting as if they rule the world. Marriages, vomit, tears, bloody awful.. Orcs!" He spun in a circle, looking for the specter that haunted him, knowing the Woman could not hear. "Uruk- hai! And now sand!" The Voyeur spat the words, as if they were sharpened spikes. "My dreams are my own! I will not have you invade them any longer!" "Nay. Your dreams belong to me." The Big Elf. The Voyeur tucked his hands into the crook of his elbows and drew himself into a tight vise. Glaring, he attempted to stare down the pointy - eared bastard. "My dreams..." "Belong to me." He gave a half-smile to the Voyeur. "Do not forget it." He turned and motioned to him over his shoulder. "Come." "I will not." "So be it." With a quirk of his fingers, the Big Elf jerked the Voyeur forward, propelling him to his side. The Voyeur's lungs filled with scorching air as he inhaled between clenched teeth. "My dre-" The Big Elf calmly reached out and grabbed the Voyeur by the collar. "Listen to me and listen very carefully. I do not particularly like coming to you in the night, invading your mind, invading your senses. I do not like trying to teach you what was and what will be. I do not like trying to soften your jagged edges nor force down your narrow mind what you could easily accomplish by asking simple questions of her. You will not do it; therefore, I must feed you in a way I find repugnant. 'Tis bad enough I must hand her over to you for the rest of this lifetime and wait until this life spins itself out, but to have that promise hinge on your ability to work with her as a team to retrieve what has been stolen... well -" the Elf paused, "I doubt your abilities to comprehend the situation, I doubt your abilities to..." "You doubt me?" The Voyeur spat. "You doubt my abilities?" His mouth hung open for just a moment before realizing sand mites did not taste good. "Your... Valar... saddle me with a tiresome, troublesome chit with misconceived visions of greatness, a diva in the truest sense. She has the mouth of a cesspool, cannot comprehend past her own hand, she does not think, she is worse than... Dobby in a potions storage!" He looked to the sky, running his hands through his hair, pulling at the locks. "She has my own house elf thinking I am kind!" A long, pointed finger thrust itself into the Big Elf's face. "For almost three months, I have had to mop up snot and tears, trying to get her to focus on the task at hand to search for a dropped wand in the forest, a needle in a haystack. She reads endlessly, sings at inappropriate times and yet You. Doubt. Me." The Voyeur spun on his heel and stormed

13 - My House is my home or A Date with the Minister SSDD - The Elves and the Wizard's aren't mine. Bronwyn is. Chapter 13: My House is my Home or A Date with the Minister. This time, the Voyeur did not find himself surrounded by nature, trees, a beach or a smelly tavern. It was a hallway, a hallway in an inn. He could smell the lingering scents of food, of cleaning solvents... The feeling of malcontent and anger poured through the paneling from the room to his left. He leaned towards the wall and slid through... The Big Elf... the Woman... sitting on a large bed, tending another Elf. A badly wounded Elf. The Voyeur watched as the two ministered to the patient, the Woman wringing out a bloodied cloth in steaming water, her fingers and hands, reddened, almost blistered by the heat. The Voyeur watched as the Big Elf murmured binding spells, magic the Voyeur had never before witnessed, to heal the gaping wound, to ease the injured Elf into sleep. Angry, horrible words then flew between the two. She had allowed herself, her child to come into danger and the Big Elf was furious, storming out of the room, leaving her with the injured Elf and the Big Elf's brother... Rumil. "Tithen Aras..." "Do not excuse him! Let him sleep in a cold bed!" The Voyeur did not see that hand that reached through the woodwork and jerked him back into the hallway... ...looking into the wintry eyes of the Big Elf. "Sometimes, one must understand there are different points of view." The Voyeur ducked his head in anger. "By Circe, what are you talking about?" The Big Elf rolled his eyes. "For one supposedly so smart, you are incredibly dense!" He motioned to the hallway. "What do you see?" "What do I see? It is a hallway. Wooden planked floor, paneled walls, an embroidered runner..." "What do you smell?" The fine ridge between the Voyeur's eyes deepened. "Food, old grease, cleaning solvents..." He found himself jerked into the room on the right. "What do you see?" The Voyeur took in the room... "You, in the tub..." the Elf was angrily scrubbing and splashing, "and making a bloody awful mess." The Big Elf's eyebrow rose. "There are two beds..." the Voyeur pointed with his chin to the smaller one, "...one wonders how you are not waking the child." He continued to scan the room, noting the furnishings, the carpets, then back to the tub. "I smell soap, dirt and grime. You have apparently been traveling." The Voyeur considered the condition of the Big Elf. "You have also apparently been in a fight." He watched as the Elf in the tub ducked his head under the water and slung his hair back, water flying. "A fight." The Big Elf snorted. "We had been on the road for days; our party was beset by a large band of thieves. We saw them coming and knew we could not outrun them." The Voyeur suddenly found himself in the middle of a field; dust, many riders coming from the north, a city lying a hefty ride to the south. "I ordered my wife to flee with our child while we held them off, to give her time to escape." A battle, the Elves horribly outnumbered... "She did not listen." The Woman had ridden a ways, a screaming child grasped tightly in her lap. The Voyeur watched as she turned, dismounted from her horse... Knives flying... The Voyeur saw the sound waves circling, invading the ears of men as she attacked from a short distance away. They fell, writhing on the ground, blood occasionally seeping, but their bodies not disintegrating, not like the dragon. The Big Elf cut down an attacker and turned to her... "Go!" The Voyeur found himself back in the bedroom. The Woman now sat on the bed, guitar in hand, raging rifts of melody being forced from her fingers as the Big Elf stood behind and listened. "We would have beaten the men back. There were many, yes, but their skills were limited and they did not know how to fight well." "She could have been killed." The Voyeur whispered. "She exposed her child to harm." "That was why I was angry, but she had a different point of view." Again, the Voyeur witnessed the skirmish, but this time from the Woman's vantage point. Saw the m