Subject: [FFML] Re: [fanfic][HP][oneshot] Eighteen Sickles (And A Knut)
From: David Johnston
Date: 6/27/2006, 10:05 PM
To: The Eternal Lost Lurker
CC: FFML <ffml@anifics.com>
Reply-to:
rgorman@telusplanet.net

The Eternal Lost Lurker wrote:

"It's like treacle fudge," Ron said as he finished clearing his dinner plate
and reached for the desserts which had just appeared on the table. "The more
you see of it, the more you want it."

Harry and Hermione stared at him. "Mmf?" he asked, treacle clamping his
teeth together.

"You are impossible," Hermione informed Ron, before rising from the table
and stalking crisply out of the hall.

What is Hermione's problem?  Ron's simile isn't that outrageous.

Harry blinked. "I...err..."

Hermione rolled her eyes and threw the roll of parchment back at him
disgustedly. "You need to get a grip on yourself, Harry. This is NOT the
time to be spacing out over a girl."


You may need to dial Hermione down a notch unless Harry is doing 
something that will affect her grade.  Either that or play up how 
annoying a lovestruck Harry is being.



"I don't know what to *do* about it, Hermione," Harry said.

"Well...you *could* try talking to her," Hermione pointed out. Seeing
Harry's poleaxed expression, she groaned. "Okay, then try the old secret
admirer routine. It usually doesn't work, but there's always a chance it
might."

Or at least bleed off some of that pent up pubescent longing.



"*WHAT* are you doing?" a crisp voice rang shrilly through the girls'
dormitory.

"Close the door!" Cho hissed, flushing.

It was quite fortunate, she mused, that Hogwarts was a place where privacy
and propriety were generally stridently observed; 

Except by all the ghosts and paintings...


the scene upon which
Marietta Edgecomb had just stumbled would be very difficult to explain--not
to mention terminally mortifying--if anyone but one of her dorm-mates and
best friends had walked in at that moment.

Cho Chang was standing in front of her dressing mirror. This in itself was
not unusual; what was unusual was the fact that she was stark naked and had
been, at the moment Marietta walked in, cupping her breasts with her hands
and frowning at her reflection.

The door closed, and Marietta flopped down on the edge of her bed, still
staring at Cho warily. "I say again, what are you DOING?" she asked.

Cho cast an annoyed glance at her, the colour slowly receding from her
cheeks. "Just giving myself a look-over," she said. She turned again to her
reflection and frowned. "My chest is too small," she declared.

Gosh.  A girl of Chinese ancestry who is modestly endowed.  I can tell 
this isn't anime fanfic..


"So's the rest of you, dear," the mirror replied. "So don't fret about it."

...and talking mirrors.





She still didn't know who it was, although she had a few suspicions. She'd
not once managed to catch anyone taking the notes from the fifth floor
corridor. If she didn't know better, she'd swear a house-elf was taking them
for her admirer.

Well it's not out of the question although Harry has a better method.



In years to come, Harry Potter would look back fondly on his fifth year at
Hogwarts--the year he spent writing secret love letters to the girl of his
dreams, the warm memory of their subsequent dates, the passionate kisses
they shared in secret, the promise they made to always be together...

And the heart-shaped Snitch pendant, which seldom left the neck of the woman
he loved.

They're what, 13?  I'd say the odds are against it lasting.


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