En av mina bästa vänner och jag har en särskild jargong med varandra. En kväll hade vi båda tråkigt så vi hade en lång och alltmer urspårad sms-konversation. Början har jag inte kvar men här är resten av härligheten, polaren börjar sen är det varannan replik:

Jadå, min lilla jak!

Du är en så oerhört charmant hög med måsspillning.

Tack! Har alltid beundrat din värme, Den är som en färsk kattspya!

Dina komplimanger känns som orch-andedräkt mot mitt ansikte.

Vad fint!Jag vet att du trivs bra under såna förhållanden!Min enorma tillgivenhet till dig är som en fluglort!

Du känner mig lika väl som en sköldpadda känner till busskörning!

Jag vet!Är det inte underbart att vi står lika nära varandra som när ett lejon sliter upp en gasells strupe!

Det är kärlek det!Lika vackert som ihjälsvultna barn i solnedgången!

Ja åh så fint det är hur vi håller av varandra!Det är så vackert att jag vill skjuta huvudet av mig!

Jag blir så rörd att jag vill se färg torka!

Åsa, jag vill se dina ögon utstuckna, dina ben krossade och släpandes efter en bil i dina inälvor. Kan inte beskriva min kärlek till dig bättre än så!

Thorsson min kära, ack vad jag längtar tills den dag du hänger fastspänd i ett taggtrådsstängsel med dina pungkulor i munnen och sakta blir levande flådd..

Mmm..jag njuter av dina kärleksfulla tankar om mig!Jag vill dra ut dina naglar långsamt med tång!

Jag blir så varm inombords att jag vill hoppa hopprep med dina tarmar!

Du vet hur du ska trycka på mina knappar!Jag måste mata dig med din egen avföring och sedan dränka dig i toaletten!

Jag vet! Det är därför jag ska mata dig med dina tår och låta dig kvävas av din egen kuk!

Åh Åsa!Säg inte så!Du får mig bara att tråna efter att skända ditt lik!

Du talar så vackert om kärleken att jag bara vill såga i ditt mellangärde!

Jag önskar att du vore Särimner så jag skulle kunna slakta dig om och om igen!

Jag önskar att du vore odöd så jag kunde bränna dig på bål i all evighet!

Mmm..Tänk att få hänga dig i dina inälvor!Jag vill se dig kvida när jag för upp en två meter lång påle i ditt anus!

Oh yes! Vilken lycka att få göra lampskärmar av dig hud och höra dig skrika när jag våldtar dig inifrån och ut med hjälp av din ryggrad!

Jag ska binda fast dig med dina katters hudar och pissa på ditt flådda ansikte!

Jag ska slå ut dina tänder och karva ut dina ögon med dem!

Jag vill se dig kräla i ditt eget blod och avföring innan jag avrättar dig som boskap!

Jag vill binda fast dig med dina tarmar och njuta av ditt långsamma, plågsamma döende..

Jag ska våldta din skalle så hårt att dina tänder splittras och penetrerar din hjärna!

Jag ska slita av dig ditt ena ben och låta dig suga av det så djupt att dina tår tittar ut ur din röv!

Jag ska binda dig och köra över dig med en ångvält!Det blir som en padda på autobahn!

Jag ska hugga av dig armar och ben och hänga upp dig i taket, det blir som en levande boxboll!

Jag ska smitta dig med ebola. Ska dricka maredsous och njuta medan jag ser dig spy upp blod och inälvor!Som en Tarantino-rulle live!

Jag ska sätta på dig en Harry Potterkostym och låta män i blonda peruker våldta dig hela dagarna. Live slash fanfiction!

Mmm..Jag ska kasta i dig bland pirayor och sedan använda din skalle som ölbägare och din ryggrad som ryggkliare!

Jag ska gröpa ut dig med en sked och göra dig tilll mitt nya vardagsrumsbord!

Jag ska stoppa upp din skalle i din röv och använda dig som flytring!

Jag ska flå dig och tillverka handväskor av din hud, flöjter av ditt skelett och bratwurst av ditt kött!

Jag ska tvinga dig att ha sex med XXXX (oerhört frånstötande gemensam bekant.)

Perkele Thorsson, där går gränsen, nu är jag djupt chockerad..

I just love MLP customisations!

Gears of War x My Little Pony - FreshBump

Posted using ShareThis

Yes I have, with my best friend when I was a kid. It´s a meaningful relationship, even though she lives in South America now and I´m in Europe;) No, there´s noone I wish I hadn´t run into.

Yes, and it failed. Badly.

Harry Potter Character Combatibility Test created with QuizFarm.com

You scored as Sirius Black You are Sirius Black. You are extraverted. You care so much for those you love that you would put your own well-being at risk for them. You love being around people more than spending alone time. Rules and restrictions make you feel as if you're being caged. You're highly concerned with justice and have a strong sense of right and wrong. Luna Lovegood 97% Sirius Black 97% Albus Dumbledore 88% Hermione Granger 75% Neville Longbottom 75% Draco Malfoy 72% Remus Lupin 69% Harry Potter 63% Bellatrix Lestrange 59% Lord Voldemort 56% Severus Snape 47% Percy Weasley 47% Ron Weasley 44% Oliver Wood 41%

I saw this wonderful idea in fairytaleaddicts journal so I knew I just had to do it myself. I got this fic idea from my fever muse
 (I have one, weird enough, this far I´ve gotten my best ideas being ill;) So I wrote this, but I´m not sure which pairing it will be yet. But it´s HP-femslash,  obviously;) and will probably be rather heavely  BDSM-themed, but written in the most poetical way I possibly can. At least this first part which is all I´ve written this far, is. As usual when I´m writing fics, I just follow where the story takes me:D
The speaker voice belongs to Millicent Bulstrode, her Domina is probably, but not necessarily Daphne Greengrass.
I´d love to hear what you dear people on my friendslist thinks about this, I´m a bit stuck with it at the moment. I love challenges, but this is one tough nut to crack;)

"My peripheral vision is fading, the black tunnel is closing in, yet I´m not dying. This moment just before it all turns black is the opposite of dying. I am released like those birds at a muggle wedding ceremony. I float and feel neither pain nor joy. Just the essence of being in the moment, the ethereal vision of paradise if such a place exists. I am, but soon will be no more. My limbs are loose and I´m striving to hold on but I have to let go, must let go. No other choice exists because She holds the clasps to my collar and I live to serve."

I didn´t.
Even though the shops have been trying to sell us this holiday for years, as a general rule it´s not a celebrated holiday here in Sweden.

We do however celebrate the "Day Of The Saints" ( Alla Helgons Dag) which is a "moving" holiday but always a Saturday. This year it is today:) It´s celebrated by putting a candle by the grave of a deceased loved one.

Jag skrev det här för några månader sedan i min dagbok på QX men eftersom jag är i samma situation igen nu, med en period med mycket aktiv musa så passar det bra här och nu också. Men det var ju himla synd att jag kanske glömt den där bokidén. Eller vänta lite nu..det har jag inte alls det!Det var ju den där boken om farfar jag syftade på!Jag borde verkligen försöka komma igång med den,
Jag har flyt nu igen, men flyt som fan den här gången. Jag har efter ungefär ett år av att mest jobba natt, med mycket lite tid över för något annat än äta sova jobba så har jag fått fast tjänst!Jag ville inte söka morgontjänst engentligen men gjorde det eftersom jag så gärna ville ha fast tjänst och det var något av det bästa jag gjort. Eftersom jag slutar vid 13-14tiden på dagarna så har jag plötsligt extremt mycket fritid, även om jag går och lägger mig i vettig tid (som egentligen är ca 18-19..) Nu i veckan ska jag t ex för första gången på evigheter fika med en kompis-hos henne istället för mig, och dessutom ska jag göra en aktivitet- även det utanför huset-med en annan kompis. Fy helvete vad livet leker!

Inte nog med det, kapitel fyra på min fanfic är klar och jag fick mer inspiration till en bok jag umgåtts med tanken på att skriva i flera år. Jag börjar se slutet på min fanfic nu så boken kanske blir nästa stora projekt.Vi får se, det är ingen stress direkt. Men att få en bok utgiven vore ju oerhört coolt. Det finns många exempel på folk som börjat med att skriva fanfic och sedan gett ut "riktiga" böcker. Vore suveränt om jag kunde bli en av dem.Och jag måste köpa japansågar och sätta igång med att bygga det där köksbordet jag också funtat på ett tag snart. Det spelar egentligen ingen roll vilken form kreativitet en tar (även om jag är fullständigt värdelös på att sy, tyvärr) bara den tar någon form. Jag har upptäckt att jag inte mår bra om jag inte skapar något.Tänk att roten till välbefinnande var så enkel:D

Winter is approaching fast here in Sweden and to great sadness, I had to throw away my old beloved wool winter coat last year. Ever since then I´ve been on the lookout for new one. I´ve looked in stores, in web shops but never seen one that really struck my fancy. I´m not a buy and throw after one wear kind of person. In fact I´d worn the last coat, a very nice, black one, no decorations and almost reaching to my toes for years. It was a great coat since I really like wool during the winter. It doesnt´t wear down, break easily and black is always stylish. I wanted to buy one just like it but the ones that I´d managed to find and were similar costed like 1200SEK. Alas, not in my range on an average salary month.

These last days I´ve been on sick leave due to a bad cold. Nose like a tap, fever, a really bad cough- the works. It was getting better yesterday so I went to the store for dog and cat food. It was rather late so it was dark and as I was walking down the road, which is next to a highway I noticed something black hanging over a car sign. I didn´t look closer but carried on, went to the store and bought my things and came back a while later. When I came back I had a lock, just out of curiousity and would you believe it?

Hanging over the car sign was a black wool winter coat! It was dirty, there was mud stains on it but I have a washing machine so I certainly didn´t care. I took it with me, brought it home and put it in the laundry basket. Today I had a look at it and searched the pockets, just in case there was a wallet or anything with a name on or such. If there was I would naturally have given the wallet, and possibly the coat as well to the police. But there wasn´t, just a dirty napkin and some gravel. I couldn´t help myself at that point, I just had to try it on, dirty and a bit smelly or not.Once more I couldn´t believe my luck!I´m not a very small girl, short yes but to be honest, I´m fat. And yet the coat fitted perfectly!

First of all, who throws away a perfectly fine coat? And secondly, these kind of thing has happened to me once or twice before in my 27 years of living. And they are part of the reasons why a born and raised atheist now believe there is a G*d..

Recap: Subway clerk, Sweden.

Dear travellers,

Contrary to popular belief, subway clerks do in fact not have superpowers. This means that we have absolutely no way of telling if your ticket is valid or not when:

Half of it is, or less is still in your wallet

You´re standing more than one meter away from the booth

You show you card, but for a split-second

Lacking superpowers, we also can not possibly know:

That the person standing next to you in line is travelling with you and should be stamped on the same strip ticket

That the child running around in the hall is in company with you and should be let through/stamped too

And dearest senior citizens. The fact that you´ve turned 66(6) does not mean that I´m going to let you trough without seeing a valid ticket. Kindly stop rattling the pram gate now.

No love,

                Pierced clerk

At last, a wtf from this morning. A man tries suck number three and obviously isn´t let through. He stops, comes back and show me his valid ticket strip. As I´m opening the barrier (it´s slow) he smiles and says:

”This is called harassment”

I suppose it was a joke, but a very strange one..

Title: A life once ordinary, chapter four

Author: bimupp

Warnings: Not DH compliant, keeping a person alive

Rating for this chapter: PG, just to be on the safe side

A/N: Kittens and cookies to my lovely beta kcstories

Remember that reviews are love and they give my sometimes sleeping muse a kick in the butt!


One would assume that a highly accomplished Auror would get to see more action than this, Hermione pondered relentlessly as she, with an elegant wand flourish, undersigned and archived yet another report on two neighbours accusing each other of being death eaters.

"Still no dark wizards" would be the occasional headline of The Daily Prophet these days, but she knew it to be a false statement.

The ultimate defeat of Voldemort five years ago had meant the end of him and many of his followers, but there had been Grindelwald before him and another powerful and evil wizard or witch would surely come afterwards.

There was no knowing when this would happen, but Hermione and the Auror Headquarters she, for most practical purposes, led would not be caught off guard, no matter how inane the headlines or how oblivious the public.

Hermione had organised a worldwide wizarding intelligence network to keep track of dark wizard movements everywhere on the planet. This had revolutionised the work of the British Aurors, who until the launch of the network had been reduced to the UK and had barely concerned themselves with espionage at all.

Her work hours were mainly spent reading reports on both international and local events and correspondence with her local and international colleagues.

Fieldwork that needed seeing to by someone of her rank was scarce. The finger pointing and more or less real sightings of wanted dark wizards or witches, that was what most Auror cases consisted of these days, and it was nothing her co-workers couldn't handle by themselves.

Involvement by her, or worse, by the Head of Headquarters, would only be seen as en effort to question the competence of the Aurors handling the case; which was hardly justified, since incompetent Aurors and Aurors with bad judgement had long since been sacked.

Only the best was good enough for Hermione and her boss.

She put down her quill and stretched her back, which responded to this abuse by creaking loudly.

The end of the workday was in sight.

Her cubicle looked very much like the ones surrounding it, only slightly larger and much tidier. A desk with a comfortable chair took up most of the floor space, filing cabinets and a small but crammed bookshelf most of the wall space.

She was lucky enough to have three cubicle walls and the advantage of having been placed opposite one of the enchanted windows. This one let in the golden hue of a hot summer's day, with promises of ice cream and sand between your toes in its glow. A stark contrast to the reality a couple of hundred meters above the Ministry, where a chilly autumn rainstorm haunted the streets of London.

Hermione had not succumbed to the practice most Aurors had of filling up every available space in their cubicles with 'most wanted' posters. She had only selected two decorations.

The first was a framed photograph of Crookshanks that she kept on her desk. He was stretching himself and yawning, showing off a large number of sharp yellow-tinted teeth. Hermione thought it was immensely cute, but few others agreed.

The other decoration hung on the wall to the right of the desk. It was a rather large quidditch poster, also with moving images, depicting the all female team that was the Holyhead Harpies.

Hermione hadn't been much of a quidditch enthusiast during her time at Hogwarts, but after years of being dragged to games by not only Harry, the professional quidditch player, but also Ron and Ginny, quidditch fans extraordinaire, she had had little choice but to start enjoying the sport herself.

The poster depicted the Harpies mid-game and battling not only their archrivals, the Puddlemere United, but also a fierce rain storm.

Flashes of green robes with golden talons on the front were mixed with blue robes with golden bulrushes, as the two teams flew rapidly in all directions across the pitch.

The top of the poster sported a caption in the green and golden team colours. It changed every few hours and had recently altered from "Holyhead Harpies-home of the champions" to "Holyhead Harpies-making witches score since 1203."

Valmai Morgan, one of the Harpy chasers, was at the center of the poster, leaning closely over her broom with a quaffle in her left hand, racing for the goal hoops. Her curly hair was short cropped and the dampness made it stick to her forehead. Occasionally she would stop her intent gazing at hoops and the Puddlemere keeper in from of them to look at the spectator of the poster with a hint of her mischief in her eyes.


Ron had asked Hermione about a thousand times why in the world she chose to root for the Harpies instead of his favourites, the Chudley Cannons. She usually answered that much unlike the Cannons, the Harpies consisted of excellent players and furthermore were known for giving the spectators good value for their money.

Besides that, she also found it important to support an all female team that so often flattened its opponents in a male dominated quidditch world. It was an obvious team choice for any aware feminist.

Ron usually just sniggered at these arguments, but Ginny, a fellow Harpies fan would, if present, voice her wholehearted agreement.

Meanwhile, Hermione would often tell herself that her rooting for the Harpies had nothing whatsoever to do with the known facts that Valmai Morgan, an excellent chaser who had scored 10 goals single handedly in her first match with the Harpies, had a cute nose, flew with utmost grace and looked stunning in wet robes.

It would be a lot easier to believe herself if poster-Morgan would stop winking at her already!

With a small scowl at the offending poster, Hermione got up from the chair and went over to the coat rack to retrieve her cloak before she left the office for the day.

As usual, she was among the last to leave, so the corridor of the department for magical law enforcement was almost empty as she went over to the golden lifts.

She got into a one that sported no more occupants than five memos circling the lamp. The lift jerked downward and the usual litany began:  "Level three, department of magical accidents and catastrophes, level four, department of regulation and control of magical creatures, level five department of international magical cooperation..." and so on, all the way to level eight, which was the atrium where she got out.

Hermione stepped over to one of the many fireplaces and flooed home.

At the same time, Luna was sitting by her kitchen table and chewing at the end of a quill. In front of her lay an empty parchment and an unopened bottle of her favourite lilac ink.

"Why in the world should it be so difficult to write an effing letter," she thought. This was her third attempt at writing Hermione a letter suggesting that they meet for a spot of tea, or dinner maybe.

Even the beginning proved hard to phrase.

"Dear Hermione."
No.

"Hi there."

No.

"Achtung baby!"
Definitely not.

Finally, she started to slowly scribble in the top left corner of the parchment:

"September 19th, 2002."

She thought for a while and chewed some more on the quill and then wrote "Hermione" beneath the date and to the middle, and began the letter at last.

"Dinner at 1730, the Leaky cauldron, Saturday the 21st, join me? Send Astra back with the answer, please.

P.S Don't upset her, she molts.

Best wishes,
Luna"


That would just have to do. She folded the greenish tinted parchment in half and went to retrieve an envelope from her bedroom.

As she was looking through the drawer where she kept her correspondence paraphernalia, a clicking noise started to emit from the direction of the window.

Luna went over to the window to find a large eagle owl clacking her talons at the sill with an accusing look in her yellow eyes.


"I'm sorry, Shiva, but I had to seal your entrance to the owl pipe. Your mummy just won't take a hint."


Luna rummaged through her robe pockets for a while and finding what she was looking for, she stretched her hand towards Shiva who was fluttering her wings expectantly.


"Here you go, but that's all you'll get, you little candy monster! Astra's not at home, I'm afraid."


Shiva devoured the owl treats at an impressive speed and hooted happily as Luna extracted the letter from her leg; the letter, which she was not surprised to see, sported Padma's handwriting.


Luna sighed, took the letter and went back to the living room where she threw it unopened into the crackling fire.


"Six letters in one and a half week; sweet Merlin! She never wrote that often when we were infatuated lovers, so why now?"

Luna hadn't opened a single one of the letters, nor answered them, and was determined to keep that up. She guessed they contained either apologies or begging to get back into her good graces. Maybe both.

Sunlight was slowly rising over the hill behind the apartment building. A new day was approaching.

Luna expected her snowy owl Astra to return from her nightly killing spree any minute now.

Astra was the daughter of Luna's father's senile female owl Aspera, so she had lived with the Lovegoods since she'd only been an egg but this hadn't calmed her disposition in the least.

This was hardly surprising since her mother was to put it bluntly, mental. Among other things, Aspera was prone to eating curtains, sleep in the pantry and had an irrational fear of slippers.

Astra wasn't that eccentric, but she did occasionally have bursts of anger, had never been fully house trained and had a habit of attacking oatmeal.

Somehow none of this had stopped her from forming a friendship of sorts with Shiva, Padma's owl.

They used to sit together, fly away to hunt together and sleep together during the day. When Shiva was around, Astra would be very docile and barely bite Luna at all.

The owl still hadn't showed up and Luna was beginning to worry. Supposedly she could always send the letter to Hermione with Shiva. Padma wouldn't find out and it wouldn't matter if she did.

Yes, Luna thought, she'd better do that before she changed her mind again about how to phrase the letter.

She picked out an owl treat and offered it and the letter to the owl that was sitting atop a cupboard cleaning her wings.


"Shiva dear, mind taking this to Hermione Granger?"


Shiva flew down and ate the treat as Luna petted her. She didn't protest as Luna tied the letter to her left leg and then she took off with a couple of hoots through the open window.

Luna sighed and went over to the window to gaze around for the white speck of Astra. It took a while but suddenly she saw it flying towards the darker and bigger shape of Shiva, and together the owls took off into the dawn. Luna closed the window, smiled and went to bed.

Hermione was in bed, sleeping the deep and untroubled sleep of the righteous when she jumped out, alarmed by a horrible scratching noise, or so she thought.

Crookshanks leapt up from his usual spot on Hermione's feet and growled. There the noise was again; it was coming from the left.

Hermione lit her bedside lamp and peered over at the familiar sight of owls and released a breath she didn't realise that she had been holding.

There were usually only two owls that brought letters here, Pigwidgeon and Hedwig, so these owls were unfamiliar, but a common and harmless sight nonetheless.

Crookshanks ran around expectantly, hoping for an early snack, but Hermione carried him into the bathroom in a gentle but firm way and closed the door. Then she let the owls in.

The white one started to circle the room while the brown one sat itself down on the table in the middle of the room, looked at Hermione and raised its left leg, which had a letter attached to it.

Hermione extracted it, read it, smiled and went to fetch a quill and paper, as she was up anyway. She only had Ministry paper, so she sat herself down by the table, chewed at the end of her quill and wrote:


"Looking forward to it. See you there. Hermione."


She put the letter in its envelope and went back to the brown owl, but as she bent over in front of it to tie the letter to its leg, the owl flew up and sat down on the lamp shade; hooting. The white owl started to hoot too, fluttered its wings and flew towards Hermione. It sat down on the bed, pecked at the pillow and offered its leg. Hermione shook her head, amused at the display. Somehow she figured that this one had to be Luna's owl.


"Okay then, you get the letter."


She tied the letter securely and as soon, as she was finished the owl pecked hard at her hand.

Hermione cursed and nursed her hand, which was bleeding a little, and she watched the owls fly away. Then she went back to her bed and was soon gently snoring until a very angry Crookshanks started to wreak havoc at her bathroom door.

Several excuses and a long petting session later, human and cat were once again sleeping soundly.


The dawn of Thursday the 21st of September brought a crisp cold and a clear sky.

Frost crackled beneath Hermione's boots as she walked through the empty streets to buy a newspaper to read with her breakfast.

For some reason, the Daily Prophet was rarely delivered before eight a.m. and Hermione was long since at work by then. As she preferred her freshly ground coffee with an equally fresh newspaper, this block long walk to her local 7-11 store was a daily routine for her. She rubbed her hands together and breathed on them as she increased her pace.


It was six thirty a.m. and Luna wouldn't wake up for another three hours at least.

The day passed by in its usual manner for both women. This, however, meant unusual for Luna, who spent her morning interviewing first a number of witches in Dover who claimed to have had the Marble Mermaid over for tea, and then a wizard in Southampton who, allegedly, was married to a bowtruckle called Holly.

Those conversations took up most of the morning, and then Luna had lunch for two hours at a café in Southampton. She always had lunch where she happened to be after her morning interviews, even though she could apparate to wherever she wanted.

Even Luna was a creature of habit in some ways, and her dad, who always did the same thing, had passed this habit on to her.

After her third cup of tea, she apparated home and spent the rest of her working day transforming the recorded interviews to flowing text. Since she didn't like quick notes quills after Harry's experience with them, this usually took a while.

All of this was every day routine for her. She started out with interviews or research, had lunch and then made one or several articles based on it. Loosely mostly. As most days, she let herself off at 16:30 and was unfamiliar with the concept of overtime.

Having her dad as boss had both advantages and perks. Luna took a quick shower, put on a light blue robe, combed her hair and fastened it with a sea shell clip on the right side, put some money in her pocket and had time for yet another cup of tea before apparating to the Leaky Cauldron.

Hermione was shuffling her feet outside the entrance when Luna appeared with a pop. She smiled a bit nervously at Luna but she just said 'hi' and offered her her arm.


"Shall we?" Luna said and in they went.


"What about there?" Hermione asked as she pointed over to a table in a secluded area of the Leaky.


"Sure."


As Hermione started to unbutton her cloak, Luna came up behind her and grabbed it by the neck, causing her hands to caress Hermione's neck. It made her shiver and Luna smiled a self-assured smile behind Hermione's back. She took the cloak and laid it down with her own on a nearby stool. The Leaky didn't seem to believe in coat racks.

Hermione had chosen a white blouse and brown skirt to wear this evening, paired with a golden necklace and earrings. Her bushy hair was untied but carefully trimmed and framed her face with curls.


"l like your sea shell," she said.


She had always thought, when pondering the matter at all, that Luna dressed at random, but if that was the case today, it was a very lucky coincidence how her blond hair, light blue dress robes and the white shellfish clip all blended together. She looked beautiful, Hermione concluded, surprised.

Luna just looked at her and smiled as Hermione sat, deep in thought, but then Luna said:


"I'd like some soup. What about you?"


"Haven't decided yet. Do you see the menu anywhere?"


"Over there." Luna gestured to the left where a chalkboard stood by the bar. The names of the dishes written on it could just about be seen from their table with some peering.


"Pumpkin soup sounds good," Hermione said, after some time pondering over the not many but all delicious courses of very British food.


She preferred French or Italian, but had agreed to come here because of the atmosphere. It was rustic and ancient and the menu hardly ever changed, but it was still lively and somewhat modern because of the guests who often consisted of wizarding tourists from all over the world.

And it held many memories since she had stayed here on many occasions herself.

"So, how was your day?" she asked Luna when their soups had arrived; their delicious small making her stomach grumble loudly.

She picked up her spoon and started eating, and Luna began to tell her about her day.

Hermione listened with growing interest and fascination. She had only heard of the Marble Mermaid in passing and was surprised to learn that Luna didn't believe a word of what the witches had told her about the tea party, or even that the Mermaid existed. There apparently were creatures whose existence she doubted.

Hermione had many questions and the subject of conversation turned to myths and legends, where they both entertained each other with stories the other hadn't heard before.

Luna's mother had been a muggleborn, but since she'd died when Luna was nine she didn't get to hear many muggle legends and myths, so Hermione told her about some of them now, and Luna gave wizarding ones in return, accompanied by her father's beliefs and views. The ones she still agreed with anyway. She had learned some years previously that just because her beloved dad believed in something, it didn't have to be true.

That had been hard to deal with at the time, but it had been a rewarding experience over time. She told Hermione this too. They were halfway through the main course when Colin Creevey showed up.

As an adult, he was less idol worshipping than he had been at school, but he was still as exuberant and jolly as ever. And he still didn't have a clue when his presence wasn't wanted.

"Hermione, hello," he exclaimed and came over to their table.

"And you're Miss Lovegood, of course. I read every issue of the Quibbler, you know. Lovely magazine, but there aren't many pictures in it. I can help you there, if you want, and you'll get a good price too. I'm a freelance photographer, see. I got some pictures into the Prophet last week. Did either of you notice them?"


Before either woman managed to get a word in, he took a chair from a neighbouring table without asking, sat himself down by their table and picked up his brief case. It was menacingly thick and sure enough, contained his portfolio, which sported mostly portraits, which he started to extract and explain in vivid detail.

Luna seemed every bit an interested listener and inserted questions whenever the constant flood of words halted, but her brow was furrowed.

Hermione sat quietly and wondered if she should speak up and tell Colin to go away, but how would she phrase that? And whenever she, or usually someone in her company, had managed to tell him to sod off in the past, his big brown eyes had gone all teary and he had sort of caved in on himself.

His brother Dennis acted pretty much the same, so telling either of them to go away felt like kicking a puppy. It was a horrible act Hermione decided that she just couldn't commit for whatever reason. Instead, she forced herself to feign interest and she finished her meal as Colin happily droned on and on.

When Tom, the bartender, passed by, Hermione improved the situation by ordering three mugs of mulled mead and telling him to keep them coming. With a bit of luck, Colin would soon get drunk and fall asleep on the table.

No chance of that happening, it seemed. Three hours, later they were all in different stages of intoxication, but Colin's chatter, though not as fast-paced, was still in effect.

Slurring, he was telling the others and innocent passers-by all about the wonderful Hasselblad camera his grandfather had owned, and all its fantastic qualities.

Hermione was considering hexing him, with increasing seriousness.

Finally, Colin uttered the magic words, and 'silencio' wasn't one of them:


"No, really mates. I should get home now. Got an early shooting tomorrow and if I'm late, Mrs. Perlman will be so peeved she'll probably hex my lens and we wouldn't want that now would we?" he giggled. "But it's been a blast. We'll have to do this again some time soon, right?"


"Sure," Hermione and Luna said simultaneously and caught each other's relieved expressions.

Colin patted their backs and left.

The two women were seated by the bar now, both clutching a butterbeer.

"Well," Hermione began unsurely.


"I might be drunk," Luna said and they both laughed at that.


"Me too," Hermione admitted and they both had another attack of the giggles.


"I guess we should head home," Luna said once the giggling had subsided.


"I guess you're right," Hermione answered and tried to sober herself up.


"Help me off this stool, will you?" Luna said and peered down her bar stool like it was a cliff.

Hermione jumped off her own, careful not to trip, and stood in front of Luna. "How?" she asked.


"Just stand there in case I fall."

Luna started to glide down her stool with a solemn expression that made Hermione laugh again. Luna gazed at her, but said nothing and all of a sudden, she was down on the floor and leaning heavily on Hermione. When a minute had passed and she still hadn't moved Hermione felt compelled to ask:


"Are you alright?"


"Yes. Just keep me steady, please. She took Hermione's arm and placed it over her shoulders.


"Let's go. I don't think I should apparate tonight. Neither should you probably. Let's take the bus."


"But we don't live in the same city. No bus goes to both our areas."


"The Knight bus does."


"Right," Hermione said, feeling stupid. " I just hope it won't shake too badly. I hate throwing up!"

'I can't believe I said that,' she thought and looked at Luna, who luckily didn't seem to take offense.

"Me too. Hopefully they'll see what state we're in and go easy on us."

"Right then, here we are," Luna said as they arrived just outside the Leaky Cauldron. The street was deserted and the rain echoed off the dustbins in the alley.

Luna produced her wand and called on the bus.


"Hermione..."


"Yes?"


"This evening has turned into a real disaster. Mind if I make it better?"


"Of course not. Go ahead."


The next thing Hermione knew, Luna was kissing her, tongue and all. Hermione couldn't figure out how she should or wanted to respond to that, so she took the easy route and returned the gesture; hesitantly at first, but then Luna grabbed her arms and got closer and then Luna did this incredible thing with her tongue and Hermione decided that she didn't want the kiss to end. Instead she put her hands on Luna's cheeks and pulled her even closer.


When the Knight bus came crashing into the alley with a loud thud, neither woman noticed.

Rating:NC17

Summary: PWP, more or less

Pairing: Valmai Morgan/Gwenog Jones

Warnings: Porn, but nothing kinky

Disclaimer: I own nothing. They´re all JKR´s characters, I´m just

playing with them



Gwenog took a firm hold of Valmai's arm and pushed her harder into the locker as she sucked on the sensitive skin where shoulder met neck.

The cupboard lock was edged very uncomfortably into Valmai's lower back, but she didn't care. This was what she had been waiting for ever since she'd been made a chaser for the Holyhead Harpies three months previously.

She and Gwenog Jones, team captain, shared a history that had ended in tears, but Valmai had never given up hope that one day they would patch things up again.

And judging from the way Gwenog had started to open the clasps of her shin guards, today might just be that day.

Done with them, she threw the guards away, not caring where they landed, and the women started kissing, taking turns battling for dominance in each other's mouths.

Gwenog grabbed hold of Valmai's neck as Valmai struggled with the fastenings of Gwenog's robes.

More and more parts of their green with golden talons quidditch uniforms got scattered around the floor and benches of the locker room in Holyhead, Wales.

The rest of the team had long since left to celebrate today's victory against their arch rivals, Puddlemere United, but Valmai and Gwenog had made up some excuse and lingered behind.

The Harpies usually went down to the local pub after every match, where they downed butterbeers as they either drank to their victory or drowned their sorrows, but always analyzed the latest match in minute detail. For the team captain Gwenog to not come along for this was very rare, but the others hadn't questioned her since her word was law.

The air in the locker room still smelled of sweat and soap, but this bothered neither of its current occupants.

"Did you lock the door?" Valmai gasped as her second knee guard fell to the floor and Gwenog started freeing her from the robes.

"Yes, ages ago. I told you not to worry," Gwenog said huskily and began licking Valmai's right inner ear.

Valmai realised that she had fallen behind on the undressing and subsequently began pulling off Gwenog's robes and untying her boots.

Magic might have seen them naked in mere seconds but they both thought this was a more effective way to get in the mood. During their past relationship, it had even worked as the only foreplay when time had been scarce but need hadn't.

Gwenog's belt clasps clicked as they hit the tiled floor. She kicked her pants into a corner and dragged Valmai closer.

"I´ve missed this," Gwenog said as her arms began to map Valmai's now naked back and moved downwards.

"Me too," Valmai agreed, caressing Gwenog's cheeks and smiling sweetly.

They kissed again, entwined, and didn't come up for air for several minutes.

"Hold that thought, love," Gwenog said, releasing herself from Valmai's arms, even though her right hand had begun a very promising journey down Gwenog's thigh.

She went over to the pile of clothes and started rummaging her trousers for her wand. It didn't take long to find it, but every second felt like an eon and the room was a little chilly.

"Got it! Now what do you prefer, my sweater or a glove?"

"The sweater´s softer. Not that it matters much. No, take a glove. It won't be as uncomfortable if it gets wet, then…"

"It will get wet alright. In fact, I´m wet already."

"Gwenog!" she said loudly, blushing magnificently.

"I was thinking of the floor in the shower room. Folks always forget to dry it after they´re done, so it´s always damp. It's more spacious there."

"I know. I was thinking the same thing. You´re such a prude, Val." But she was smiling as she said it.

"Come here."

Valmai took a step closer to Gwenog and again, they kissed deeply.

"Let's go then," Valmai said and laid an arm around Gwenog's waist.

Closely together, they walked the few feet to the shower room where Gwenog took the glove she had been holding in her left hand and threw it onto the middle of the floor. Then she changed her wand from the left hand, which had been holding that too, to the right and promptly transfigured the glove into a roughly queen-sized bed that still had the black colour and rough, leathery texture of a quidditch glove.

"Blimey, my concentration must have slipped. Stop being so sexy so I can try again."

"It's fine, Gwen. Now come on already, and turn off the light , please."

"I won't be seeing anything now that I haven't seen before, you know. You're such a prude."

"Gwenog…" she said, but started to embrace her from behind.

"Alright. But let's get on the bed first. I don't want to risk falling and breaking my nose on the floor. That would be a hard one to explain to the mediwitch."

"Less talking, more walking."

"Eager, are we?"

They had reached the bed, which felt softer than it looked, and sat down.

"Nox," Gwenog incanted and laid her wand carefully on the floor. Valmai saw an opportunity to attack and threw herself at her friend with benefits or whatever they were now. Gwenog fell flat on her back and smiled widely at Valmai as she climbed on top of her.

Gwenog began to stroke all parts of Valmai that she could reach while Valmai was nibbling at Gwenog's neck and breathing into her ear. Gwenog shivered and began to pant as Valmai started to take her nibbling and occasional licking ministrations further downstairs.

Gwenog had trouble believing that they were doing this again. It could hardly be a wise move considering how things had ended before, but the moment Valmai reached her destination, Gwenog couldn´t care less about the consequences.

----

Title: A life once ordinary

Chapter: Three

Author: bimupp

Pairing: Hermione/Luna

Rating: PG, just to be on the safe side

Disclaimer: I own nothing. they´re all J.K Rowling´s characters, I´m just playing with them.

Summary: Hermione has a rude awakening. Literally.

A/N: Remeber that reviews are love and give my sometimes sleeping muse a kick in the butt!

Credits and kittens goes to kcstories for kindly agreeing to be my beta from this chapter on.

You´re wonderful! I now give you "A life once ordinary," longer, better and beta-ed:






Hermione stirred uneasily under the covers. She had never felt this uncomfortable in her life. Not only was she completely naked in a strange bed, this predicament had apparently also led to a very heated discussion in the living room; between Luna and someone who could only be Luna's girlfriend. She thought she recognized the other voice as belonging to Padma Patil.

"Luna dear, why is there a naked woman in your bed?" Padma´s voice had a sharp edge.

"No reason, just a harmless bit of fun," Luna answered. "Sailing in other waters, you know."

"No, I don't know. But do tell me more about these waters of yours."

"Well, I just wanted to try something different. I love you and all that, but I was curious."

Luna could have been talking about cabbage for all her voice revealed. Her tone was flat, matter-of-factly and barely held any of its usual dreamy qualities.

"I don't believe you, Luna. You claim to love me, but think nothing of cheating on me?"

"I never said I slept with that naked woman in there."

"True. Did you?"

"Is it important?"

"I would assume so, yes. Your beliefs have, however, left me baffled before." The sharp edge of Padma´s voice was now covered in ice.

"I suppose so. Alright, we did sleep together."

"Why in Rowena's name would you do something like that? And why is she still here when you knew I was coming over?" A hint of hysteria could be heard in her words now.

Luna remained calm and spoke carefully, pronouncing every syllable with utmost care and a rather vicious tone. "You flaunted your excursions. Why shouldn't I?"

"I did no such thing!" Padma was quick to defend herself. "It would never have happened if we hadn't been pissed out of our skulls and she only remained here because she was too drunk to Floo home. I couldn't let her Splinch herself, could I? And I've told you a thousand times how sorry I am about that. If I had a Time-Turner I would have changed it, but you and your friends destroyed them all. I love you, Luna; you know that. Why did you do this? Just to get back at me? I thought we were over this."

"We were. Until you came home with love-bites on your thighs."

"What, when? Padma managed to sound both surprised and nervous.

"Last week. Forgot how to cast a simple concealment charm, did you? I forgave you once, Padma. I blamed it on intoxication and stupidity, but twice? No. I can't explain away twice. I hope you hurt now, but it isn't half of the pain I felt last week."

"I- I…fell?

"Not true, and not funny. Just leave, Padma."

"Would this be you dumping me?"

"It would be, yes."

"But I—"

"No, you don't. And you won't. Leave please."

The calm was still present, but more exasperated now. Luna forced herself not to look into Padma´s tearful eyes. Her resolution might very well fail her if she did.

Padma gazed at Luna, tears streaming down her cheeks. She knew Luna well enough to know when she was being serious and she certainly was now.

There was nothing for it.

She went over to the fireplace, took a handful of Floo powder from the jar on top of the mantelpiece, whispered "My flat" as she threw the powder and left.

Hermione stared wide-eyed at the ceiling. Nothing in her previous experiences could have prepared her for this particular conundrum. What did you tell someone who had obviously just staged a rather intricate plot to get rid of her girlfriend - "I feel sorry for you"?

"Well done?" And why couldn't Luna just have told Padma to sod off and get it over with? Why the drama?

Being the smartest witch of her age did nothing for Hermione in this case. She was angry with Luna for using her like this but decided not to tell her that. She had enough problems for one morning; or midday, according to a bright yellow grandfather clock in a corner. Slowly, she sat up and started searching for her clothes.

Luna was sitting on the living room couch with her face in her hands. She had never before felt this miserable, not even when she had found out at that Nargles weren't real. Giving Padma a taste of her own potion had felt like a good idea at the time and it had served its purpose. Their three-year old relationship was over now. She knew it was for the best. Fidelity was important to her and Padma obviously couldn't keep her legs crossed; her beautiful legs…

Don't go there, brain.

Approaching footsteps.

Who? Oh, right. Hermione.

Suddenly said witch stood in front of her, wearing a bed cover and a confused expression. "Luna?"

"Yes?"

"Where are my clothes?"

"In the desk to the right of the bedroom door, top left drawer."

"Alright. Why all of them?"

"Well, you fell asleep on the couch and I thought you'd be more comfortable nude. The cooling charms of this flat are rather awry."

"Right. So it wasn't because you were going to use me in some plan to deceive Padma? Something to do with infidelity maybe?"

Hermione was careful not to sound irritated and she really wasn't anymore. Once she'd seen Luna sitting with her face in her hands and had heard her labored breathing all feelings of annoyance had evaporated. Now she was more interested in finding out how Luna was coping with things.

"You heard us, didn't you?"

"It was hard to avoid, you were a little loud."

"I really am sorry for using you like that, Hermione. I didn't know what to do with all my anger and it hurt so much. I apologize for pulling you into my private affairs and all, but it seemed too good an opportunity to dismiss when you went out like a candle."

"It's okay. Really. Are you alright?"

"No. But I will be. The corners of Luna's lips went up in a small smile and she looked up at Hermione through her bangs.

For some reason, Hermione felt her stomach lurch. She must be hungry.

"Will you stay a while?" Luna asked.

"Alright. I'm in no hurry." She hesitantly sat down next to Luna and put an arm around her shoulders. Luna leaned back and they sat together in silence for a while.

Even though they had only sent the occasional Owl to each other since Hermione graduated from Hogwarts all those years ago, her presence felt comforting to Luna. Maybe being around anybody but Padma would be, but still…

 Eventually Luna's stomach grumbled and with a tiny giggle at that, she went up and treaded away to the kitchen.

Hermione followed suit.

As full as the living room and hallway were with books and artifacts the kitchen was with cupboards and cabinets. Most of these were of a dull beige colour that clashed magnificently with the variety of the rest of the apartment.

Luna was opening cupboards and ripping out drawers at an alarming rate, picking out this and that.

Her arms overflowing with jars, satchels, cutlery and plates, she went over to the enormous kitchen table Hermione was already seated at and laid everything down in a heap. An uttered charm later, everything was laid out orderly on the table and they both had napkins in their laps.

It was everything you could wish for from a breakfast table. A breakfast buffet even. Eggs, bacon, toast, marmalades, jams, kippers, scones, yoghurt and much more.

Hermione, who felt famished at this point, ate to her heart's content.

Luna just nibbled slowly at a piece of toast and gazed at Hermione with a curious expression. Well, more curious than usual anyway.

"I'm sorry about Padma," Hermione said, breaking the silence. "Your girlfriend, was she"?

"Yes," Luna said, smiling inwardly. Like Hermione hadn't figured that out already! "And don't be," she added. "It was time to break it off. I could only tolerate that much. It'll be alright. Thanks though."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Hermione had started to fidget, but stopped the impulse before it reached her nerves.

"No."

"Okay. I just have one question. Why did you tell Padma that we slept together? I mean, we couldn't possible have, er—" she said, blushing deeply.  "I mean, I'm- and—"

Luna came to the rescue with a wide grin that had erupted during Hermione's uncomfortable utterings.

"We did sleep together. The key word being sleep. Padma always had a bad habit of jumping to conclusions. That stood out in our House. I used to find it refreshing."

An awkward silence broken only by the sounds of the cutlery followed until Hermione was sure she couldn't eat another crumble.

"This meal was delicious, Luna. Thank you."

"Mm," Luna said, putting down her teacup and starting to put everything back where it came from.

Hermione also rose, wanting to help but soon realised that she didn't know which of the dozen cupboards was the right one for the kippers. So she sat back down again and let Luna finish.

If Luna wanted help, she could ask, Hermione thought and then reprimanded herself for her insensitivity.

Suddenly remembering her ragged old cat, Hermione rose again as Luna put the last satchel into one of the larger cabinets.

"I should probably get home. Crookshanks must be starving by now. I haven't fed him since early yesterday morning."

Luna nodded, but something in her eyes lost its shimmer.

Hermione went back to the bedroom to get dressed. Decent once more, she looked at her reflection in the mirror above the bureau and pulled her fingers through her hair to get it at least almost acceptable. Not that anyone but Luna would notice, since she was going to Floo home.

She checked that she hadn't forgotten anything, grabbed her handbag, which Luna had left at the bedside table, and went out into the living room.

Luna was curled up on the couch gazing into nothing. She didn't look up or speak until Hermione had almost reached the fireplace.

"When do you usually have lunch?"

"Um. Around 12, usually. If there's not too much to do. But I can usually fit it in at that time, since even Dark wizards get hungry. Why?"

"Fancy eating with me some time next week? Dad and me are going to Hungary on the 27th, but I'm around until then. It would be nice to stay in touch."

"Yes, it would." Hermione smiled and noticed how Luna's eyes lit up when she did the same.

"It certainly would. I'll Owl you."

"Alright then."

Hermione Flooed home.

A very angry and aggravated cat was pacing the floor and when Hermione was thrown out of the fireplace, Crookshanks let out a mew so loud it almost shook the walls.

Like a well trained pet-human, Hermione quickly got to her feet and hurried to the kitchenette, refilled Crookshanks' water bowl, took out fresh food bowls and filled them up with an excellent array of the nasty-smelling cat food brands he seemed to prefer. Five bowls in all. No one could ever accuse Hermione of neglecting her familiar.

When the tray was set down, Hermione could finally peel off her dress (that smelled of cigarette smoke) and take a relaxing shower.  Return to routine at last.

Her Snorkack curiosity had made the whole weekend disjointed, she thought as she shampooed her hair thoroughly.

She usually caught up on paper work at this time on a Saturday. In case there was still any left, since she usually worked extra on Friday to be able to end the week with a clean slate.  It always gave her immense pleasure to do that, even if her usual weekends gave her plenty of opportunity to catch up on her work.

Clean slates, shining surfaces, all things in their proper place was how Hermione preferred the world.

Her small, one-room apartment was proof to this. Even though the couch-and-bed-in-one futon, bookshelves, dinner table and cat playhouse had to fight for space, all surfaces remained speckless. At all times. Not a single ginger cat hair tainted the floor.

The kitchenette was a steely modernistic affair. The window above the sink let through the sunlight, which made the steel of all the cupboards glimmer brightly. On a sunny enough day, Hermione's kitchen could render an unsuspecting spectator blind. But she loved it.

Her salary was good enough to afford her an apartment much bigger than this, or a small house even, but what she saved on the rent for a small flat she made up for in state-of-the-art compact living solutions of mainly steel or tile.

The kitchenette had an amazingly large number of luxurious appliances for a space so small, and the bathroom managed to cram in both a shower stall and a sitting bath tube with Jacuzzi and massaging functions. But she hadn't told Ron or Harry about those.

They would want to come over and leave hairs in the sink. She loved her best friends dearly, but she would never let them live down a hairy bathtub or sink, no matter the cleaning spell.

That reminded her of Luna's flat. She remembered that she had seen owl feathers on the bedroom floor and she was momentarily stunned to realise that the sight hadn't bothered her at all.

All the normal rules of her life didn't seem to apply where Luna was concerned.

And that felt strangely relaxing.

---

Disclaimer: Nope, still don´t own anything. They´re all J.K Rowlings characters, I’m just playing with them.

Rating: PG, just to be on the safe side.

Warnings and notes: This is my first ever attempt at writing fanfiction and english is not my first language. Unbetaed, but all chapters after this have been betaed. This chapter was written before DH and I kept my description of Lunas father. There´s also disgusting!snorkacks here.

Remember that reviews are love and that they give my sometimes sleeping muse a good kick in the butt!

The first thing Hermione noticed when she dared to open her eyes again after the short side-along apparition was a narrow staircase. The two women were standing in an apartment building entrance. It was rather luxurious with marble floors and a special tube for the mail owls leading upwards to the left side of the room, above the staircase. To the right were a small waterfall and three golden coloured lifts awaiting passengers. The high above ceiling contained paintings of all sorts of witches, wizards and magical creatures. Hermione spotted kneazles, grindylows and Cornish pixies, but no crumpelhorned snorkacks.

“There’s no need to be too impressed, Luna said. The flat here has been handed down in my mother’s family for generations. Apparently, they made a couple of very monetary rewarding trips across the Atlantic Ocean during the early colonial years and enjoyed showing off their immense wealth. I would never have been able to afford it myself; dad thinks being family enables lesser salaries.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Hermione answered.

“Don´t be, the salary is low, surely but he pays all expenses on the business trips. We do them together most of the time though, but still”

“I see. Maybe you could let go of my arm now”?

Luna had had a firm grip of Hermione’s left arm, ever since the beginning of the apparition.

“Oh, off course. I’m so sorry. It slipped my mind Luna answered with a tint of pink to her cheeks. Let’s take the lift, shall we?”

And she led the way towards the lift in the middle. It was a tiny old fashioned one where you have to pull the bars across the front before being able to go, and Luna did just that before standing herself close to Hermione and saying:

“Third floor please” with a slow and very precisely pronounced voice.

“Certainly, Miss Lovegood, welcome home”, a slightly mechanical but very grandmotherly voice said.

“Thank you Rose.”

“Rose?”

“Yes, well. She’s got to be called something, doesn’t she? Saying thank you lift just seems so silly to me, and she reminds me a bit of my grandmother so I call her by her name. She was almost deaf to by the end. Refused all sorts of ear healing or charms because she seemed to think that if she couldn’t fix it herself, it couldn’t be fixed. She worked at St: Mungos as a mediwitch for most of her life see and the concept of magical healing and charm actually developing through the years was nothing she cared to grasp. I miss that old hag”...

Hermione smirked disapprovingly at the last bit, you are supposed to respect your elders even if they are eccentric after all, but did not respond. Luna sure was talking a lot, but Hermione found that she didn’t mind that much,

The lift smelled of soap and the bronze walls glistered. The management sure seems to be doing their job, Hermione thought. Luna stood with her left arm pressing against Hermione’s right and swayed a little when the upwards ascent started.

Hermione took in her slight smile, pinkish cheeks and just a tad glazed eyes and noticed for the first time that Luna most likely was a tiny bit on the drunk side of sober this evening.

She eyed herself in the mirror. The drinks she had had with Ron when still at the party were not showing, the hair just a little bit frizzy, nothing out of the ordinary there, and make up still in place. The lift came to a halt. Our heroines got out and Luna took a right turn with Hermione in tow. Through a corridor with oak doors on either side and the occasional oil painting here and there they went, past a staircase and on and on. The inhabitants of the paintings looked at them but said nothing.

Hermione thought she had enough exercise for the week when Luna finally stopped in front of an oak door which only difference from the others was that the golden name plaque bore the name “Lovegood”. Luna fumbled for a while in her vast skirt pocket before fishing up her wand and muttering a few incantations. The door clicked and swung open.

“Entre vous, mademoiselle,” she said and jokingly put up her arm as invitation.

Hermione stepped inside and came to an instant halt. A chaotic clutter was the only way to describe it. Book shelves, display cases, framed front pages of “The Quibbler,” and other things covered every wall she could see, apart from a tiny space just by the door where a coat rack and a shoe stand had been allowed to stand.Even a small door to the left in the hall was covered by shelves.

She removed her shoes and took a few steps further into the clutter, almost tripping over a carton on the floor. Luna kept her shoes on and went ahead of her. When Hermione regained her composure she noticed a large display case to her left. Not a single shelf was empty and looking at the various things being shown made her feel like she somehow had stepped into a shop in Knockturn alley. Most of the strange artefacts in the case seemed to be different parts of dead animals. There were tiny skeletons, multicoloured feathers, stuffed small rodents, preferably deformed, a couple of skulls, jars with formaldehyde preserved intestines and whole animals, bottles filled with bile or blood. Hermione looked questionly at Luna.

“Grandfathers collection. He was into that sort of thing she said with a shrug. You should see his books. I usually look into them the months I can’t seem to find any news to report in “the Quibbler”. They´re great information for exposes over all sorts of beasts and deformities. Not that we write about that sort of thing often. We’re a serious news paper after all”.

“Mm. Your family seems..interesting.”

“Thank you she said with a wide smile. Why don´t you have a seat in the living room?”

The hallway led right into said room and the couch was a large red satin one that had obviously seen its best days. In front of it stood a likewise ragged table littered with all kinds of magazines. Across the table was the fireplace and book shelves covered the rest of the walls, apart from two doors on either side of the room.

Hermione seated herself, secretly hoping nothing would fall down on top of her head. Luna went away through the door to the left. To get the photos, Hermione presumed. Her love of the written word made it impossible for her not to start looking through the magazines. Back issues of “The Quibbler”, “Transfiguration today”, “Witch Weekly”, “The Daily Prophet”, “The Weekly Wicked”, “Science report”. She chose the latter and started grasping through it. Luna returned shortly, carrying a large photo album as expected.

“Here we are. I had left it under my bed for some reason”.

She sat down close to Hermione, lay the album down under the table and opened it. The first photo was of Luna and a man that could only be her father. He looked very young to have a 21 year old daughter but the similarities between them were striking. Same kind of watery eyes, blond hair and noses even though his nose were bigger. He had his arm around Luna’s shoulder and they were standing in front of a large number of pine trees, both smiling broadly and blinking in the sharp sunlight.

“This is just before we went into the forest.”

More and similar photos followed. Luna and her father by the Swedish port key central, by some hoof prints in a marsh, Luna’s father sitting on a tree stump drinking tea. Luna went on describing the photographs in her slow, dreamy voice

“And this was taken about half way through the glen with the big rock and I thought I saw a snorkack there but it was just an elk, that’s on this picture, see?”

On and on she went and this far there hasn’t even been a blurry image of anything resembling a snorkack. Hermione began to wonder if those photos, if they existed at all, maybe were the last ones in the thick album. She began to feel drowsy. Finally Luna inched closer to Hermione and lifted the album up and laid it out across their knees as she declared:

“And now it gets interesting for you.”

Hermione blushed, but remained silent. Her parents hadn’t raised any liars.

“Here’s a crumpelhorned snorkack horn. They shed them each fall see, and my father managed to find one in a clearing. Look!”

The excitement was evident in her voice and Hermione looked. The photograph indeed showed a crumpled greyish brown horn piled up on a mossy rock beside Luna’s hand to show its size Hermione figured. The horn was about four times the size of Luna’s hand. Luna laid said hand upon Hermione’s.

“Isn’t it fascinating? I’ve did my reindeer research. No other reindeer breed in the world, not even in Canada, grows horns this big, and no other reindeer horns resemble these at all! She gently squeezed Hermione’s hand and gazed into her eyes with a maniacal gleam.

“And we still don´t know what they eat!”

Hermione concluded that Luna was in top weird form today, but blamed it on drinking and the late hour. She leaned closer to take look more closely at the picture. It looked like a common reindeer horn, but deformed. Each “branch” was about as big as Luna’s hand and the root was about as big as her thigh. This was still pressing against Hermione’s own, to hold the the album up properly off course.

“Ready?” Luna gave a lopsided grin. Hermione nodded and Luna turned the page.

Even on a photograph, the snorkack was illusive. Hermione found herself looking dumbly at a picture of a dark pine forest with a rock to the side. Suddenly a greyish brown shape started to appear slowly from the left. Soon the entire creature was standing in the glen, sniffing at the moss on the rock with huge flapping nostrils. The crumple horned snorkack was huge and hideous. Its greyish brown fur was matted and striped. A massive drooping neck supported a large elk-like head with round yellow eyes that oozed some kind of liquid down it’s hallow cheeks. Several big blisters covered the six-legged body and they seemed to shift in size as if they were about to burst at any moment. It was downright creepy. The snorkack stood sniffing for a while and then turned, facing the camera, froze and stared with an eerie intelligent look in its oozing eyes and ran away, the two tails between its legs.

“Is it supposed to look like that?” Hermione asked. “I mean the oozing and those blisters. It must be sick, right? And what are those blisters?”

“We don´t know yet. And yes, we think it’s healthy. All the snorkacks we saw looked like that, apart from the calves, they had no blisters. Acne is one theory about them, eggs another. We´re not exactly sure that they´re mammals and the breeding pattern is also unknown. We just don´t know what the oozing is about, but we think it’s normal for them”.

It was a weird feeling to be the one without the answers Hermione thought. Weird but not unpleasant. Seeing and learning what little there was to know about the snorkacks felt a bit like opening up a new and exciting school book, and it been too long since she last was able to do that.

More snorkack pictures followed, all taken in pine forest glens and most featuring a single snorkack. The snorkacks had few differences except the shade of the greyishbrown fur and the size and width of the stripes. All of them, including the calves were hideously ugly and the blisters made them look like they suffered from the bubonic plague.

Hermione closed the album.

“Thank you for showing me these. They were really fascinating.”

“You’re welcome. I was eager to share anyway. I don´t know many people who I think might be able to grasp the allure of the snorkacks, but I was sure that you would”.

“I’m touched Luna. Really.”

“So, do you want to go back to the party? Or have a drink here maybe? I make an excellent San Francisco.”

“Just one drink then. I don´t want to worry Ron”

Luna looked a bit annoyed at that but went out into the kitchen and returned swiftly with two glasses with the juice/vodka blend and a smile.

“Here we are” she said and put them down on the table.

“Thanks”.

They sipped their drinks slowly and silently. Hermione relaxed into the couch, for once not feeling any need to speak. Luna’s presence was somehow soothing and the drink strong but delicious. Why didn’t she always drink San Francisco’s at parties she wondered as she started to feel drowsy again. Her head lolled back, the glass fell into her knee and Hermione was fast asleep. Luna looked at her with a predatory smile.