![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(abandon fic! abandon fic!)
Title: (none — for Last Kiss)
Characters: Severus/Lily
Rating: PG
Words: 140
Warnings: None
Why I give up: The first stanza was inspired. The rest are just imitations. Trying to carry on poetry like this very rapidly starts sounding very forced. I would never have got this up to 1000 words (the fest minimum).
-------
Now kiss me again,
though it might be our last;
yes, kiss me as though
you know that it is,
that my hands will never
twine lilies in your hair,
not tomorrow,
nor never again.
If I kiss him again
it will not be the last;
my heartbeat will know
that never could be
and my hands will pull him
to lie with me in the lilies
and tomorrow
and ever again.
Or give me the kiss
that you did as a girl:
the savour of childhood
still fresh on our tongues,
The blushing we couldn't
quite hide in our hair—
just once more,
if never again.
I remember a kiss
to a boy from a girl;
what a woman should,
my tongue would say,
is different; still I blush
and stroke down his hair
and want more—
tomorrow, again.
-------
Title: (none - for Severus helps Draco brew Elixir of Euphoria)
Characters: Severus, Lucius
Rating: G
Words: 79
Warnings: None
Why I give up: I think it's pretty obvious. This is just going nowhere fast.
-------
"I'm going to have to teach this brat of yours someday, you know."
"Draco is not a brat, Severus."
"That remains to be seen."
Lucius snorted a laugh. "You mean, it remains for you to be forced to retract that remark. Draco is a Malfoy."
Severus smirked. "He's also a Black. Or had you forgotten?"
Lucius frowned. "Are you casting aspersions on my wife's bloodline?"
The smirk turned into an innocent look. "Certainly not. I'm casting aspersions on yours."
-------
Title: It's In the Script (for Beltane Rite NC-17, NWS)
Characters: Severus mostly; Severus/Harry implied; various combinations of Severus/Harry/Draco also kinda implied
Rating: strong PG-13 or soft R
Words: ~840
Summary: The course of true dreaming ne'er did run smooth.
Warnings: None
Why I give up: Normally I have no problem with crack, but this is stupid crack, with a gimmick that only leads to exasperated head-shaking. Totally fails to deliver on smut; I just can't write Severus/Harry, I guess.
-------
"Please, Snape. Please. Come down here with me. Want you."
That's when Severus knew he must be dreaming. Not because some tender young thing was saying "please come here" and "I want you" (strange enough though that was), but because he reckoned that by the time you were familiar enough with someone that you could go out into the woods, build a bonfire in a suitable clearing, strip off, and have things proceed to a point where they could be reaching to pull your naked self down to the ground for fairly obvious subsequent activities while you stood before them wearing nothing but your own sweat and a rather foolish-looking green satin cape, well, then you probably had already passed through the stage where you began calling each other by first names.
Also, Draco was there. Also naked. And with antlers apparently growing out of his head. Severus hardly kept up with Gentlewizard's Quarterly, but that seemed unlikely to be that spring's trend in wizarding haberdashery. And if it were, he would have thought he could trust Draco to have the good taste to stay well clear of it.
But it was that "Snape" which had clinched it. Trust his subconscious to bollocks up a simple dream script. Given the lead-in, he had been so fully expecting to hear himself addressed as "Severus" that he skidded and screeched straight into lucidity when he was not.
Severus took a startled step backwards and quickly catalogued the most salient features of his surroundings. Trees; a fire; naked Draco avec antlers; naked Potter sprawled on the ground in front of him, reaching up to Severus as though he was some exotic fruit ready to be plucked from the tree and savoured. (In defence of Potter's apparent choice of metaphor, though, Severus conceded that his current attire was a bit fruity.)
Potter was even licking his bottom lip, now, in mock anticipation of said fruit's sweet juices; why, the shameless—!
Severus thought the most apposite thing to do at this point would be to have a bit of a mental breakdown, but unfortunately it seemed clear that he must have already had one. He toyed with the idea of letting the details of this dream slip in the hearing of Sybill Trelawney ("My humblest apologies for my role in this tragedy, Headmistress; I merely thought it best to consult an... expert... if I wished to know what the vision signified. How many years did St Mungo's say it was likely to be? Ahh... pity, pity..."), but decided against it.
Then it dawned on him just what the significance of his jerk into lucid awareness actually meant: he was in control. He could make anything happen that he wished to. He could wake up. He could vanish the whole scene and maybe dream of a nice holiday in Greece instead. He could put some bloody clothes on. Or, he could...
Severus swallowed, and decided to start with pausing the action to give himself a few moments to think. Without so much as a flash of light, his wish was his subconscious's command.
The utter stillness made the already surreal scene extremely eerie. Beyond flames suddenly stayed from flickering, Draco's arms were frozen in a curved pose suggesting seaweed waving in the ocean currents—if seaweed were pale and wore antlers, that was.
Potter, likewise, was a motionless sculpture of a young nude male instead of a very warm and breathing one. Severus's throat seemed to get suddenly thick as he considered the boy. Well, "boy" in a manner of speaking; Potter did appear to be of age, albeit barely.
That was simple matter to make absolutely sure of. A moment's thought, and lo, it was now in the dream's backstory that Potter was a more comfortable twenty-nine years old. Oh, and Draco as well—that would probably be wise. Merely a precaution, of course.
Precaution? Severus snorted. This was all so absurd. If he was going to have a lucid dream, why did the setup have to be naked former students and Beltane bonfires and capes that should surely be kept at least twenty feet from open flame at all times? And why the trigger being that Potter, of all people, had addressed him as "Snape" when he'd been hoping for "Severus"? Whatever happened to just training yourself to try to fly or look at your hands in ordinary dreams?
He considered his hands. His thirty-nine... year... old... hands.
It was then that Severus realized he had entirely missed the optimal solution to the problem of their relative ages.
*~*~*~*~*
To: Script
From: Production
Re: Character ages
You idiot. Thirty-nine is dull and twenty-nine is just cliché. Pick something lower. It might be easiest to make everyone all the same, too. Just stay away from twenty-one. That would only have significance in the American market. Remember who you're playing to, here.
To: Production
From: Script
Re: Re: Character ages
Your judgement turned out to be correct, as always.
P.S. Twenty-year-olds have more stamina than I remembered.
Title: (none — for Last Kiss)
Characters: Severus/Lily
Rating: PG
Words: 140
Warnings: None
Why I give up: The first stanza was inspired. The rest are just imitations. Trying to carry on poetry like this very rapidly starts sounding very forced. I would never have got this up to 1000 words (the fest minimum).
Now kiss me again,
though it might be our last;
yes, kiss me as though
you know that it is,
that my hands will never
twine lilies in your hair,
not tomorrow,
nor never again.
If I kiss him again
it will not be the last;
my heartbeat will know
that never could be
and my hands will pull him
to lie with me in the lilies
and tomorrow
and ever again.
Or give me the kiss
that you did as a girl:
the savour of childhood
still fresh on our tongues,
The blushing we couldn't
quite hide in our hair—
just once more,
if never again.
I remember a kiss
to a boy from a girl;
what a woman should,
my tongue would say,
is different; still I blush
and stroke down his hair
and want more—
tomorrow, again.
Title: (none - for Severus helps Draco brew Elixir of Euphoria)
Characters: Severus, Lucius
Rating: G
Words: 79
Warnings: None
Why I give up: I think it's pretty obvious. This is just going nowhere fast.
"I'm going to have to teach this brat of yours someday, you know."
"Draco is not a brat, Severus."
"That remains to be seen."
Lucius snorted a laugh. "You mean, it remains for you to be forced to retract that remark. Draco is a Malfoy."
Severus smirked. "He's also a Black. Or had you forgotten?"
Lucius frowned. "Are you casting aspersions on my wife's bloodline?"
The smirk turned into an innocent look. "Certainly not. I'm casting aspersions on yours."
Title: It's In the Script (for Beltane Rite NC-17, NWS)
Characters: Severus mostly; Severus/Harry implied; various combinations of Severus/Harry/Draco also kinda implied
Rating: strong PG-13 or soft R
Words: ~840
Summary: The course of true dreaming ne'er did run smooth.
Warnings: None
Why I give up: Normally I have no problem with crack, but this is stupid crack, with a gimmick that only leads to exasperated head-shaking. Totally fails to deliver on smut; I just can't write Severus/Harry, I guess.
"Please, Snape. Please. Come down here with me. Want you."
That's when Severus knew he must be dreaming. Not because some tender young thing was saying "please come here" and "I want you" (strange enough though that was), but because he reckoned that by the time you were familiar enough with someone that you could go out into the woods, build a bonfire in a suitable clearing, strip off, and have things proceed to a point where they could be reaching to pull your naked self down to the ground for fairly obvious subsequent activities while you stood before them wearing nothing but your own sweat and a rather foolish-looking green satin cape, well, then you probably had already passed through the stage where you began calling each other by first names.
Also, Draco was there. Also naked. And with antlers apparently growing out of his head. Severus hardly kept up with Gentlewizard's Quarterly, but that seemed unlikely to be that spring's trend in wizarding haberdashery. And if it were, he would have thought he could trust Draco to have the good taste to stay well clear of it.
But it was that "Snape" which had clinched it. Trust his subconscious to bollocks up a simple dream script. Given the lead-in, he had been so fully expecting to hear himself addressed as "Severus" that he skidded and screeched straight into lucidity when he was not.
Severus took a startled step backwards and quickly catalogued the most salient features of his surroundings. Trees; a fire; naked Draco avec antlers; naked Potter sprawled on the ground in front of him, reaching up to Severus as though he was some exotic fruit ready to be plucked from the tree and savoured. (In defence of Potter's apparent choice of metaphor, though, Severus conceded that his current attire was a bit fruity.)
Potter was even licking his bottom lip, now, in mock anticipation of said fruit's sweet juices; why, the shameless—!
Severus thought the most apposite thing to do at this point would be to have a bit of a mental breakdown, but unfortunately it seemed clear that he must have already had one. He toyed with the idea of letting the details of this dream slip in the hearing of Sybill Trelawney ("My humblest apologies for my role in this tragedy, Headmistress; I merely thought it best to consult an... expert... if I wished to know what the vision signified. How many years did St Mungo's say it was likely to be? Ahh... pity, pity..."), but decided against it.
Then it dawned on him just what the significance of his jerk into lucid awareness actually meant: he was in control. He could make anything happen that he wished to. He could wake up. He could vanish the whole scene and maybe dream of a nice holiday in Greece instead. He could put some bloody clothes on. Or, he could...
Severus swallowed, and decided to start with pausing the action to give himself a few moments to think. Without so much as a flash of light, his wish was his subconscious's command.
The utter stillness made the already surreal scene extremely eerie. Beyond flames suddenly stayed from flickering, Draco's arms were frozen in a curved pose suggesting seaweed waving in the ocean currents—if seaweed were pale and wore antlers, that was.
Potter, likewise, was a motionless sculpture of a young nude male instead of a very warm and breathing one. Severus's throat seemed to get suddenly thick as he considered the boy. Well, "boy" in a manner of speaking; Potter did appear to be of age, albeit barely.
That was simple matter to make absolutely sure of. A moment's thought, and lo, it was now in the dream's backstory that Potter was a more comfortable twenty-nine years old. Oh, and Draco as well—that would probably be wise. Merely a precaution, of course.
Precaution? Severus snorted. This was all so absurd. If he was going to have a lucid dream, why did the setup have to be naked former students and Beltane bonfires and capes that should surely be kept at least twenty feet from open flame at all times? And why the trigger being that Potter, of all people, had addressed him as "Snape" when he'd been hoping for "Severus"? Whatever happened to just training yourself to try to fly or look at your hands in ordinary dreams?
He considered his hands. His thirty-nine... year... old... hands.
It was then that Severus realized he had entirely missed the optimal solution to the problem of their relative ages.
To: Script
From: Production
Re: Character ages
You idiot. Thirty-nine is dull and twenty-nine is just cliché. Pick something lower. It might be easiest to make everyone all the same, too. Just stay away from twenty-one. That would only have significance in the American market. Remember who you're playing to, here.
To: Production
From: Script
Re: Re: Character ages
Your judgement turned out to be correct, as always.
P.S. Twenty-year-olds have more stamina than I remembered.
