Wrenching round onto her back, she drew a sharp, desperate gasp of air. It was like splashing her face with cold water, as her skin had got so hot and clammy buried in her pillow. Her face was wet with the condensation from her own, laboured, burning breath.
She had been sleeping fitfully. Lying on her front, burrowing her face into her pillow and half suffocating herself. She had been searching for shelter. She had been searching in her dreams for the familiar shelter of the crook of his neck.
Or perhaps she had been writhing in an attempt to escape. To out twist and turn the urgent, bewildered pain that had clutched onto a part of her tha
Flight of the Princess by swordhawthorn, literature
Literature
Flight of the Princess
His mother was lucky. She didn’t have to spend long looking for work, securing a spot on a busy fish stall in the cheaper market near the docks. She worked all the hours she could get, trying to save up a deposit on a flat, so would come home exhausted and reeking of fish. Severus would never believe she’d go through with renting a flat until they were calling out the plumber to fix the boiler, but he was happy for her sake that she seemed to believe she’d really done it this time. She was worn out but more her own person than he’d ever seen her.
That was the only thing Severus could take any enjoyment in though. He w
Flight of the Princes by swordhawthorn, literature
Literature
Flight of the Princes
Suddenly he forgot his surroundings and lost track of what had been happening.
He was aware now that something was shaking him by the shoulder.
He was warm. Wrapped up in blankets. But the thing at his shoulder was cold and thin and hard. He could feel it suck the heat from the crook of his neck as it gripped him. It slipped and scuffled over his bed clothes in a way that sent a brief flash of fearful panic and revulsion through him, and that did it. He was wide awake now. It wasn’t a skeleton, it was his mother’s hand. ‘Darling. Darling’ she said urgently and desolately, but no other words followed. Instinctively he
Love the bones of you by swordhawthorn, literature
Literature
Love the bones of you
She had no recollection of the illness itself, at least nothing beyond a red, grating haze of pain. But aftwerwards, during recovery, was the only time she could remember being anywhere near as thin, as emaciated, as he was now.
She had gone home for Christmas while he had stayed. And lost himself in books and spells. And neglected to eat or take even the most basic care of himself. She had come back a day early, unpacked and scoured the school. Hours after arriving, she found him crouched behind the quidditch pitch taking notes as he observed a luminous blue ice-wing moth cocooning itself on the underside of a mint leaf.
‘I’ve
He'd resolved to go down when he ran out of water, but just as he coaxed the last tiny droplets from the side of the glass a noise came from downstairs. At least, he thought it might have. Over the tapping of the glass and his rasping, dry swallow he couldn’t be sure whether it was a chair being pulled out, or even a car pulling away outside. Best not to risk it, he’d thought. Best to just wait and see. In fact, he’d known all along he’d never venture out of his room until he was absolutely desperate. Or until Armageddon struck, whichever came first.
Unfortunately, Severus felt, Armageddon didn’t look likely jus
The heart as a symbol of love by swordhawthorn, literature
Literature
The heart as a symbol of love
She was just a symbol. Nothing but a cheap, tacky logo. She was a lie.
That's what he'd been telling himself for a month now. Repeating it over and over as though he was practicing a new incantation. But he was failing somewhere, it didn't work. It made nothing happen. It didn't banish the pain.
When he'd pass a window and her bright hair in the grounds below would catch his eye he'd think how ridiculous she was. He'd tell himself that Lily Evans and her flapping red hair were as vulgar as a McDonald's shop front. And it hurt him that he was lying to himself. It hurt that he had to attack her. It ached to think that he would have to go thro
The Reunion - Part Two by swordhawthorn, literature
Literature
The Reunion - Part Two
'Severus! What are you doing?' cried the Minister. He pulled a bell to ring for servants. 'That rug was from erm w-where was it from Severus?' he asked, flapping a hand in Severus' general direction and pressing finger-tips to his closed eyes. 'We took it in the war didn't we? Or did we? No I'm being a fool'. He dragged a hand across his sweaty face. 'Ah, before your time of course. You weren't with us during that war' he went on, stuttering and straining. Frustrated that this battle with his own slack mind was a never ending one. 'From, from oh yes, it was a memento from Abyssinia'. He paused, perhaps realising he'd been ramb
The most beautiful murder I've ever scene by swordhawthorn, literature
Literature
The most beautiful murder I've ever scene
(Not as scary as it sounds!)
'The story begins and ends in a tiny, rural cottage. With a witch in pursuit of magical knowledge aided by her young scribe.
'We owe much to this couple. Magical secrets hewn from time and laid down on the page for all to share. Potions, spells, curses all lost or sheathed in mystery before them are now at our very fingertips.' Lily stretched out a hand and lowered it through the air, making the firelight grow dim, then between her fingers conjured three balls of light: one green, one red and one yellow, and made them leap over each other as though she was juggling.
This raised a few appreciative, and in some c
The most sumptuous, most impressive, most imperious of all Europe's grand Offices of State is likely to be a country's Foreign Office. And while governments may insist this is to demonstrate the high esteem and respect they hold for their foreign visitors, a more likely motive is simple vanity.
As Lily first caught sight of the palazzo, it was not a feeling of value, a recognition of her worth, a representation of the kindred endeavour that is the European Project, which first struck her. Instead, a fog of deference began to gather about her, settling like a heavy weight on her shoulders, as if goading her to bow.
The car slowly crunched al
Wrenching round onto her back, she drew a sharp, desperate gasp of air. It was like splashing her face with cold water, as her skin had got so hot and clammy buried in her pillow. Her face was wet with the condensation from her own, laboured, burning breath.
She had been sleeping fitfully. Lying on her front, burrowing her face into her pillow and half suffocating herself. She had been searching for shelter. She had been searching in her dreams for the familiar shelter of the crook of his neck.
Or perhaps she had been writhing in an attempt to escape. To out twist and turn the urgent, bewildered pain that had clutched onto a part of her tha
Flight of the Princess by swordhawthorn, literature
Literature
Flight of the Princess
His mother was lucky. She didn’t have to spend long looking for work, securing a spot on a busy fish stall in the cheaper market near the docks. She worked all the hours she could get, trying to save up a deposit on a flat, so would come home exhausted and reeking of fish. Severus would never believe she’d go through with renting a flat until they were calling out the plumber to fix the boiler, but he was happy for her sake that she seemed to believe she’d really done it this time. She was worn out but more her own person than he’d ever seen her.
That was the only thing Severus could take any enjoyment in though. He w
Flight of the Princes by swordhawthorn, literature
Literature
Flight of the Princes
Suddenly he forgot his surroundings and lost track of what had been happening.
He was aware now that something was shaking him by the shoulder.
He was warm. Wrapped up in blankets. But the thing at his shoulder was cold and thin and hard. He could feel it suck the heat from the crook of his neck as it gripped him. It slipped and scuffled over his bed clothes in a way that sent a brief flash of fearful panic and revulsion through him, and that did it. He was wide awake now. It wasn’t a skeleton, it was his mother’s hand. ‘Darling. Darling’ she said urgently and desolately, but no other words followed. Instinctively he
He rested his elbows on the window sill and gazed out into the depths of the lake, face bathed in the iridescent glow of the tesla fish. The shimmering purple and blue lights of their displays melted into the nighttime waters, infused with the slightest hint of moonlight, and resulted in a soft, powdery glow. Over his shoulder the deep mahoganies and green velvets of the dormitory were burnished into a refined luster, and the sleeping bodies of his fellow students were brushed with a tender radiance.
Severus felt this was fitting. He wasn’t sure exactly how, but it seemed right. The month had been so awful but he had made it to the end
Love the bones of you by swordhawthorn, literature
Literature
Love the bones of you
She had no recollection of the illness itself, at least nothing beyond a red, grating haze of pain. But aftwerwards, during recovery, was the only time she could remember being anywhere near as thin, as emaciated, as he was now.
She had gone home for Christmas while he had stayed. And lost himself in books and spells. And neglected to eat or take even the most basic care of himself. She had come back a day early, unpacked and scoured the school. Hours after arriving, she found him crouched behind the quidditch pitch taking notes as he observed a luminous blue ice-wing moth cocooning itself on the underside of a mint leaf.
‘I’ve
Feel like I should put a warning in about the possibly upsetting scene where a character has to walk into fire. Consider yourselves warned!
The lock unclicked and Severus watched the door swing open by itself, seeming to invite him in. Then he happened to glance down and found that he had turned the handle and pushed the door open without realising.
The corridor was dark but familiar. It smelled the same as it always had, but it was cold inside. He’d never remembered the place as being cold.
As he climbed the stairs he was dimly aware that this was madness. But in some way he found that a comfort. If he was so far gone as to think of
Part 2/3
As Severus regained consciousness he did not shift or stir. Wariness had become his basic instinct and he exerted it over and above all others, even when he was barely cognizant. He kept still, so as not to be discovered, until he was strong enough to discover what was out there.
The subtle, searching waves of legillimency he now sent out however, seemed to have been anticipated. ‘At last Severus, you have rejoined us. Oh, do not mistake me’ said Voldemort, on seeing Severus try to sit up, ‘I did not mean to express impatience, only concern.’ Voldemort tapped a long, white, blue-nailed index finger on his wa
‘Alohomora’. Severus stepped inside and, without even checking the room, sealed the door behind him. His head fell against the cold door frame and his breath reverberated against his skin, making his mouth clammy, his lips wet. It felt like a whispered conversation.
After a short while he turned and sent balls of grey light soaring about the room. ‘Revelo’, he tried, then sent a trace through the air. Finally he seemed to be alone.
Still the music blared from above him, though it seemed by now like it was the sound of the air itself pulsing. It had been going on so long, and so repetitively, that it was hard to belie
He'd resolved to go down when he ran out of water, but just as he coaxed the last tiny droplets from the side of the glass a noise came from downstairs. At least, he thought it might have. Over the tapping of the glass and his rasping, dry swallow he couldn’t be sure whether it was a chair being pulled out, or even a car pulling away outside. Best not to risk it, he’d thought. Best to just wait and see. In fact, he’d known all along he’d never venture out of his room until he was absolutely desperate. Or until Armageddon struck, whichever came first.
Unfortunately, Severus felt, Armageddon didn’t look likely jus
The heart as a symbol of love by swordhawthorn, literature
Literature
The heart as a symbol of love
She was just a symbol. Nothing but a cheap, tacky logo. She was a lie.
That's what he'd been telling himself for a month now. Repeating it over and over as though he was practicing a new incantation. But he was failing somewhere, it didn't work. It made nothing happen. It didn't banish the pain.
When he'd pass a window and her bright hair in the grounds below would catch his eye he'd think how ridiculous she was. He'd tell himself that Lily Evans and her flapping red hair were as vulgar as a McDonald's shop front. And it hurt him that he was lying to himself. It hurt that he had to attack her. It ached to think that he would have to go thro
Wow, the one day I happen to check back on here I find it's his birthday.
May he finally be getting used to the feeling of contentment he's experiencing in the happy, literary after-life he shares with Lily.
Wishing well to everyone else as well. Happy new year! :heart: xxxxx :heart:
Hello!
I went to see Daniel Radcliffe's new play yesterday & thought, as it's slightly HP related (he's the closest thing we've got to a living, breathing Harry!), I'd mention it here. So these are my rambling thoughts: (I should be revising maths, so obviously I'm on DA.)
It's called 'The Cripple of Innishman'. The curtain was a picture of bare, craggy rocks pointing out to sea - the very end of the Earth almost. As the lights went down, the clouds began to race across the sky and the curtain became permeable and finally see-through before being raised. It was very beautiful, and was perhaps a hint at the idea that things are not what
It's lovely out today. I think. I've sat inside and done literally nothing!
I've been feeling a bit worn out recently, especially this last fortnight. A mixture of failing at job interviews and getting behind (then having to catch up on) work for teaching. I had a ridiculous amount of marking to get through, which I just managed, and I don't even want to think about all the stuff I should be doing for my course outside of the classroom. Not to mention the jobs I'm not applying for!
Weirdly I've not been eating during the day. I don't really know why, I just somehow got into the habit since Easter. It's not a weight thing, I'm not even losin
Thank you so much, you lovely thing!! I almost forgot to check back here - it's been waaay too long since I've posted or read anything. I'm glad I did check in though, coz your message has brought a smile to my face.