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Similar Deviations

1. Ask her the names of her dogs, she will most likely reply, "Argentum and Aurum, Gold and Silver". Then ask her which one is which. (Classic)

2. Ask her If she likes Leo. (Video-tape reaction)

3. If she replies no, (Which she most-likely will) then show her the fan-fic's and pictures that support Leyna (the dirty ones... mwa-ha-ha)

4. If she says yes, (Which she most-likely won't admit) then post the reaction on god-tube.

5. Tell her her reaction on god-tube got a million hits (If her reaction is yes)

6. Videotape her reaction to the dirty Leyna fan-fic's and pictures and post that on god-tube. (if her reaction is no)

7. Tell her it got a miilion hits.

8. Tell her that she should hook up one of her dogs with Mrs. O' Leary (Did I spell that right?!?!)

9. Post that reaction on god-tube (You're gonna need an account for this ;P)

10. Last but not least, remind her of the 'iris message' (Remember when Percy Iris messaged Reyna while she was bathing?)

:squee: Hope you like 'em guys, remember, she is expecially hard to annoy with those hounds following her everywhere!

              *I am not responsible for deaths, decapitations, injuries (fatal or temporary) caused by Argentum and Aurum*

So, this is it, how to annoy Reyna. :squee:
Reyna- (c) Rick Riordan
This- (c) me
Dedicated to- JEC00K

If you comment on your fave character in CHB or Camp Jupiter, I'll make one for them. I'm surprised you haven't asked for Percy Jackson. Derp.

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I see you from a distance.
Your red hair is blowing in the wind.
You're discovering your magic
and seeing your powers grow
You watch your sister being afraid of the true you

I see you laughing at me
when we look at our letters from Hogwarts
I'll tell you my secrets
But I will never tell how I feel about you
I hope we'll be in the same House together

I see you in different colours than mine
It feels like we're growing apart, red and gold versus green and silver
You say you'll always be my friend
No matter what will happen
I can count on your lovely smile and friendship

I see how James Potter is liking you
How others seem to care about you, more than they did to me
The horror in your eyes when I call you a Mudblood
It was a mistake I will always regret.
And then we took different directions in our lives.

I see a future for you that isn't save
Risking my own life just to make sure you'll be ok
And you dont even have a clue
I wanna make sure you'll be save and happy
Even when its not with me anymore

I see your dead body on the floor
Your once warm hands feel cold right now
The green sparkle in your eyes is gone forever
Your son is crying for help
When I'm crying over this bitter lost

I see your son grow up
He looks like his father, something I dispice
But his eyes, sometimes it looks like you're looking at me again
I miss you, with every part of my body
If only you were the one that survived...

I see your son being with me untill the end
After all the cruel things I did and said
He is like you, your spirit lives in him
I'm going to die, after all my crimes
A punishment I may have deserved

I see the green eyes of your son
I'm picturing your red hair and friendly smile
The days we spend with each other are coming back to me
To him I give him my memories of you
So he will see how wonderful you were

I see I dont have much time on this earth
My time has come to die
Forgive me for the things I didnt want to do
I wish I have told you this before it was too late
Lily Evans, I have always loved you

I will be seeing you again.
From a distance with your red hair blowing in the wind
*SPOILER* !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
*SPOILER* !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
*SPOILER* !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
*SPOILER* !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
*SPOILER* !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
*SPOILER* !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Well people I saw the last potter movie and it was awesome. Especially the part when it reveals the true feelings of Severus Snape. I loved Snape from the first start and I loved this part in book 7.

This is how Severus Snape must have felt during his years with Lily. I hope you will enjoy it

Edit: I found this sad sad sad picture of Snape and I think this is how he looked when You Know Who killed the woman he loved.
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"What say you, Draco?" asked Voldemort, and though his voice was quiet, it carried clearly through the catcalls and jeers. "Will you babysit the cubs?"

The hilarity mounted; Draco Malfoy looked in terror at his father, who was staring down into his own lap, then caught his mother's eye. She shook her head almost imperceptibly, then resumed her own deadpan stare at the opposite wall...


His hands grasped metal so cold he wouldn't have dared stick his tongue to it, lest it freeze immediately into place. Not that Draco had a habit of touching his tongue to metal fences normally. Despite the shame and dishonor and bad reputation his family had continually suffered after the war, he still had his pride. It was barely enough to keep his chin parallel to the ground at times, but he persisted. He had to. What else could he do?

He still had to care for Narcissa and the Manor, and deal with his father's old business associates who seemed convinced that he shared Lucius's views and tactics. Draco needed a real job very soon, but he just couldn't bring himself to show his face at the Ministry quite yet. Last time he'd been there was for his and his parents' trials.

Lucius had been found guilty straight off and was immediately sent back to Azkaban. Having already been convicted to a life sentence, he'd barely even had a trial.

They'd debated over Narcissa for a while, however, trying to decide whether she was guilty due to her obvious associations with Voldemort and the Death Eaters, despite the fact that she was not a Death Eater herself and there was no evidence that she had ever directly participated in any Death Eater activities. Only when Potter was called to the bench and testified that Narcissa had saved his life was she pardoned.

Draco was not released so easily. Due to testimonies from persons the Wizengamot refused to name and his own confessions, he was eventually sentenced to a year and a half in Azkaban, under the knowledge that the Ministry would keep a careful eye on him once he was released. He thought with bitter amusement that perhaps that might actually help him get a job there. The Ministry could certainly keep a close eye on him if he worked for them, no?

He tried pushing the negative thoughts out of his head, but the memories came faster and faster once they'd begun, blurring together in a sickening whirl. There was the sense of power he held over the other students that was so dark and delightful at the time, but now was almost painful to recall. There was also the memory of Granger being tortured in his living room while he was forced to silently look on.

But even worse than that was having to practice the Cruciatus curse himself, over and over under the Dark Lord's critical, unmerciful eye. There'd been no hiding from Voldemort, and even with Draco's use of Legitimens, the Dark Lord was able to break into his thoughts with sickening ease. Voldemort had infested the Manor, filling Draco's bright, happy childhood home with darkness. He'd reduced Lucius, the man Draco had grown up so terrified of, to a whimpering, wandless minion.

And Draco had been no better, slaving away with a thirst for power so great that he'd been willing to sell his soul to the devil to get what he desired.

Funnily enough, he didn't want that power anymore. He'd seen where all of it led, seen it with his own eyes. The death, pain, and destruction had overwhelmed his senses and he'd watched as his world was torn apart. And, worse, he'd helped it along.

His knuckles were white on the wrought iron fence now, its top lined with spikes placed just far enough apart to fit his hands in between. The place was enchanted to look like a run-down cemetery to Muggles, but any wizard or witch that walked past would know what it was. Built shortly after the war had ended, it was a monument to those that had died fighting for justice and peace. Dozens, maybe even hundreds of statues, stood sized real to life and frozen with fake smiles on their faces.

Draco couldn't stop looking at them.

His insides were shrinking from more than the chill wind and he kept expecting the statues' heads to turn suddenly and look at him. At the same time, however, they were so very still, snow dusting the tops of their heads and producing a white carpet at their feet. He recognized few of them, but his gut twisted at the smaller of the statues among them, spotting children and even a mother clutching an infant to her chest.

Guilt was a horrible, crushing thing, pinning him to the earth, to a hateful reality, when all he wanted to do was run away. But he stayed, hands frozen in place and wand buried deep in his pocket, and he stared at those faces and no matter how hard he tried not to, he couldn't help but think that he was responsible.

Draco's fingers had gone numb when he turned his head slightly toward the empty street, perhaps thinking he heard something or sensing someone's presence, his eyes caught immediately by a flash of bright blue. He turned to look at the thing almost against his will; his eyes kept wanting to veer back to the statues' faces. However, his attention was swiftly caught by the child before him, a toddler running on short legs down the sidewalk without even a coat on, though he did wear a red and gold knit sweater that clashed horribly with his hair.

Draco's eyebrows arched and he pulled his hands off the fence, taking a step back as he realized that the boy was headed toward him. Malfoy looked about, wondering where the boy's guardian was, and who would be so cruel as to dye the boy's hair such an unlikely color. Draco had just turned back toward the child when the young boy tripped on a crack in the sidewall and tumbled down, barely holding out small hands in time to catch himself. A sudden wave of terror swept over Draco as the boy let out an ear-piercing wail. Bloody hell, he didn't know how to deal with this sort of crisis, not did he know how to deal with children, and he certainly could not be expected to handle a situation in which both were thrown together.

Crouching hesitantly before the crying boy, he put out a hand to gingerly touch the child's shoulder, attempting to console to boy in a poor imitation of vague memories of his mother.

"Hey, shush, you're alright, then. Just a little fall, no? You don't have to cry..."

To his great surprise, the boy looked up at him with a slightly revolting face that was splotchy red and covered in tears and held out his small arms in the universal cry to be held. Completely at a loss as to what to do, Malfoy slowly wrapped his arms around the boy, and the child immediately attached himself to Draco's front, sniffling into Malfoy's shoulder.

"Where's your mum and dad?" Draco murmured, but the boy gave no reply.

"You live nearby?" he tried again. "Where's your house? Home? Where do you live?"

Again there was no reply from the boy but a few last sniffles, and Draco let out a small sigh. He very well couldn't leave the kid out in the cold, and since he supposed that the boy's parents were bound to come looking for him sooner or later, the only logical conclusion was for Draco to stay with him until he was collected.

The boy, now quite calm, suddenly cried, "Da!" and reached a hand over Draco's shoulder toward the statues. Turning his head, Draco glanced at the still figures before looking back down at the boy. It suddenly dawned on him that if the boy could see the statues, he had to be a wizarding child, although the idea of him being a Muggle child hadn't actually crossed Malfoy's mind.

At once Draco could not help but think that him holding Merlin-knew-who's child was a very bad idea. His and Lucius's incarcerations had been blown all over the papers, along with his courtroom confessions. He could not think of any parents who would feel kindly about an ex Death Eater holding their son if he was recognized. But the boy had quite the grip and showed no signs of wanting to let go, so Draco simply stood there, allowing the child to cling to him as he cast nervous glances about the empty street.


"Harry, is Teddy with you?"

Harry Potter looked up to see Ginny coming out of the kitchen and entering the living room of number twelve Grimmauld Place, looking vaguely concerned.

"No," he said, sounding surprised. "He's not with you?"

"No!" she exclaimed, looking suddenly frantic. "Oh, no, Harry! Where is he?"

"Calm down," Harry chuckled, making no move to get up off the couch. "I'm sure he's fine."

"He's only two years old!" Ginny cried. "Young children have to be watched at all times!" She immediately set off down the main hall, Harry leaping up to follow.

"Gin, look, he can't've gotten out of the house anyway--"

He was suddenly cut off as Ginny froze in front of him, both their eyes moving toward the front door, hanging ajar.

"Oh, no, oh, no, oh, no!" Ginny cried, whirling on him. Harry opened his mouth, prepared to defend himself from her accusations, but instead she cried, "A locating spell! You know how to cast one of those, don't you? And we can apparate to wherever Teddy is!"

"Yes, alright," he assured her hastily, moving the rest of the way down the hall to pull the door closed.

"Oh, what if we don't find him?" Ginny cried into her hands. "Mother will never forgive me!"

"We'll find him," Harry said firmly, taking her by the wrists. "Calm down! The last thing I need is for you to be splinched when we apparate."

Ginny took a shaky breath and nodded. "Oh, do it quickly! We don't even know how long he's been out there, and it's so cold!"

Harry looked slightly exasperated, but obeyed, swiftly casting the complicated enchantment and concentrating before swiftly taking hold of her arm and twisting them both into a sudden darkness.

They appeared with a crack outside of the Memorial, immediately spying the back of a blond head a few meters before them, the man holding Teddy in his arms.

"Hahee!" the boy yelled happily in Draco's ear, suddenly making an upward jerking movement that caused Draco to have to tighten his grip in order to not drop the child. Malfoy twisted about halfway, turning his head to see Potter and the Weaselette walking quickly toward him. The boy giggled and dropped his head lazily into Draco's neck, blue hair brushing against Malfoy's pointed chin.

"Is that Malfoy?" Ginny was the first to softly exclaim, and Harry's jaw tightened slightly, eyes taking on a wary but curious glint.

Draco quickly tried to pry the child off him, but the boy increased the strength of his grip, and Draco feared that he might injure the boy if he used all his might to tear him off. So he was forced to hold Teddy as Potter and Ginny neared, his mouth swiftly turning into sandpaper.

Harry paused awkwardly a few steps from Draco, and Ginny followed suit, her eyes fixed with obvious worry on the boy, now smiling with his fists tightly gripping the shoulders of Malfoy's dark jacket.

"His name's Teddy Lupin," Harry finally supplied. "He's Remus and Tonks's son..." Potter's voice quickly died away and Draco slowly recalled that both had died in the war.

"Come on, Teddy," Ginny finally said brusquely, stepping forward and reaching out to grab the boy. As soon as she pulled, though, the blue haired child let out a furious cry of "No!" and Draco could feel the boy's grip tighten further against him.

"I-- I'm sorry," Draco sputtered helplessly, but when he looked up he saw a small, crooked smile pass over Harry's lips.

Ginny looked incredulous and almost angry, but Harry put a hand on her waist and said quite pointedly, "Why don't you come back to the house with us? Seeing as Teddy doesn't seem quite willing to give you up yet."

Draco hesitated and Ginny fixed him with a glare. "It is very cold out," she started indignantly, but Draco interrupted her, apparently not interested in being yelled at.

"Fine," Malfoy said quickly, his arms already curled about the boy once more. Teddy rested his head between Draco's collarbones and closed his eyes as Harry turned to lead the way back. Ginny paused to let Draco catch up before starting, unwilling to turn her back on him while he still held the Teddy in his arms.
Draco + little kids = hilarity and overwhelming cuteness

And because you would do the same thing if you were Teddy. ;D Don't lie.

It's unfinished because I'm lazy.
Maybe I'll write more.
But it's unlikely.

Yeah, so last night I had a dream that this giant black dog ate my hair.
That has nothing to do with this story.
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Avatar-1 by Nico-Di-Angelo-fan

1. Remind her about Luke.

2. Video tape her reaction and upload it to god-tube.

3. Tell her it got a million hits, tell her most of the hits was Luke, who was watching from the underworld

4. Tell her about an ancient artifact (that you made up) and make up a history for it, (She will be annoyed because she doesnt know it!)

5. Tell her that she wasn't smart enough to recognize Circe, and that caused Percy to be a gunea pig.

6. E-mail her an inapropriate thing, and when she opens it up, say "Bad Annabeth, is Percy no enough for you!"

7. Ask her if she has a belly-button.

8. If she says yes, say, "I want proof"

9. If she ignores you then keep asking her, and poke her everytime you do. Ex.) *poke* do you have a bellybutton? *poke* do you have a bellybutton?

10. When she's sleeping, put some shaving cream on the parts of her pillow that aren't covered up and when she rolls over, run.
The Annabeth- (c) Lunaii dollmaker
This- (c) me
Annabeth Chase- (c) Rick Riordan

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It was the purest white he had ever seen. Blinding, almost, yet he was not squinting. In fact, he was not scowling, either. Severus Snape’s trademark expression had abandoned him, leaving behind one of tranquility and content. He felt as if the overwhelming gravity that used to pound on his head, furrow his brows, and slouch his shoulders was gone. He felt light, yet stable on what was now soft, dewy grass.

All around him the brilliant white was fading away to reveal a small clearing in a green and luminous forest. There was no sun. Every leaf, every blade of grass, every flower petal seemed to emit its own yellow light. Severus could feel the damp blades between his bare toes, making him aware of his own nakedness. He looked down on his bare arms to find that while he was still pale, his skin had lost its usual sickly pallor. He touched his face, almost surprised to find it still there. He was still a being, still a form. He half expected to be a cloud of dust.

It was complicated to decipher how he felt. The most noticeable change was that the anger and frustration that had plagued Severus all his life seemed to be gone. But, he was neither happy nor sad. His soul was neutral and almost unfeeling. He was not even irked in the midst of his new and strange surroundings. After all, he knew what happened to him…A hand flew to his neck, but Severus could not feel any indentations or scars. He could not even remember the pain of Nagini’s fangs penetrating his flesh. All he could remember were the green eyes of a young boy, like shadows cast by a memory. Something he had to remember one last time before slipping away into an unknown future…

Severus pulled himself back from getting lost in thought. On the nearest branch appeared a set of robes the familiar color of black. He reached for them and touched a fabric that was softer than silk, and as luxurious as velvet. The weightlessness of the garment shocked him as he picked them up, expecting something far heavier. As Severus dressed, a small breeze passed through the forest, shaking the leaves, and creating a soft murmur that seemed to whisper his name.

“Severus.” It was so soft, as if the wind itself was speaking. Severus ran a hand through his black hair as he looked around. He was not alarmed. There was nothing to fear at this point. He walked to the edge of the grassy clearing and looked into the depths of the forest, finding nothing. He turned around and in the center of the clearing stood a figure, and he began to fear as he thought he never would again.  

There she was. A white robe draped over her fair, glowing skin. Her dark red hair cascaded in twinkling waves down her back and over her shoulders. Severus stared at the beautiful, familiar face, but could not bring himself to look at the part of her he feared the most, and yet longed for. He could feel those green eyes gazing on him with all the magic and power he remembered in their first meeting. Lily seemed determined to have Severus look her in the eyes, but she would not force him. The power of her look was commanding, yet gentle.

“Severus Snape,” she breathed again. Severus sighed deeply, knowing what he should do, and forced himself to look into her eyes. Slowly his dark eyes trailed up her long neck, over her rosy glow of a cheek, and locked with the green. He felt a jolt of…he wasn’t sure what it was. Pure electricity seemed to run through him. It was a sensation of neither pleasure nor pain. However, he was taken aback at the fact that Lily’s eyes were not icy or hurtful. Rather, they were soft and tender. She was looking at him the way she did all those years ago, the way her eyes glimmered with laughter and happiness when Severus first told her of the wizarding world.

He did not know how to proceed from this point. He wasn’t even sure if she was real. He supposed he should try and speak, but his attempts proved to be fruitless. He tried to say her name, but his trembling lips and dry mouth would not let him. Lily began to step forward, and Severus’ desperation to say something grew more intense, as the difficulty to do so also did. He could not even move to defend himself. But why would he need to defend himself? This was just Lily. Lily Evans. Walking toward him.

By the time Lily stopped walking, her slender nose was just eight inches from his crooked one, and Severus was having difficulty speaking, moving, breathing. He had forgotten what it felt like to have her so close to him, to be able to touch her if he wanted to. Just when he felt like he might be able to utter her name, Lily threw herself on him. She embraced him with such strength and unexpectedness that Severus stopped breathing altogether. He was completely shocked and frozen with Lily’s arms wrapped tightly around him. The swirling thoughts in his mind slowly came to a stop, and Severus suddenly knew what to do.

With a trembling gasp, Severus returned the embrace. Lily did not say a word, and yet she was saying everything. In that embrace, Severus could feel her forgiveness, her affection, her love. Tears began to roll down his cheeks and nose, but they were not out of pain or sadness. It was as if releasing those tears was the only way he could release the pain that had been with him in his life. With those fallen tears also fell his guilt, his frustration, his anger. The overwhelming mix of emotions and the sensation of Lily’s warm breath on his neck caused Severus to quiver. When he was alive, he might have been disgusted at this public display of weakness. But something within him told him that this was necessary. It was time to go back to a place where he was innocent. Where he was with Lily.

He did not know how long they stood there, holding each other. An eternity seemed to pass before Severus was able to regain some composure. His grip loosened on Lily’s garment and she stepped back bringing her hands to his pale face. Snape let out a long breath as she gave him a soft smile.

“It would seem you know, then,” sighed Severus, the act of talking suddenly much easier now. Lily looked at him with understanding eyes.

“Yes,” she said, “I do know.” There was a pause between them that was not at all awkward. Lily’s voice broke the silence.

“You are a wonderful man,” she said simply, running her thumbs along Severus’ cheeks. She let her light laugh fill the air as he shook his head in disbelief.

“So wonderful, Sev,” she insisted. “I know you’ve grown to detest the word hero…But, look at what you’ve become.” Lily laughed again as Severus took her hands in his. He stared at them in silence for a moment before finally speaking.

“After that night, when you…and I knew it was my fault, I-I never wanted it. You were always so…” admitted Severus nervously, avoiding Lily’s eyes. It was amazing how just her mere presence could reduce him back into his 13-year-old self. Then, suddenly with much confidence, he looked into her eyes with a poised intensity. Though she already knew it, he felt he had to say it…

“I loved you,” Severus whispered, but strongly. “I still do. All those years…Even when you hated me, and I wanted to hate you. But, I couldn’t. Everything I’ve done, everything you see to be noble in me, is because of you. All for you. It’s because of you that I still have a soul to salvage… I love you, Lily. That is all. That is everything.” Lily nodded and rested her head on Severus’ chest.

“I loved you, too. Always.”

Severus ran his pale fingers through her dark red hair. He understood. He did not expect her to return the same kind of love he had for her. But, she did love him. And that was enough.

Severus gazed beyond the clearing and found what looked to be a hiking trail of dirt that he had not seen before. Lily looked back up at him, her green eyes once again filled with laughter. A wide smile overtook her face and she grabbed his hands.

“Looks like you’re ready to go,” she said happily, pulling him toward the trail.

“Go where, exactly?” asked Severus apprehensively.

“Now, does that really matter?” she giggled, giving him a young, mischievous grin. “I mean, you’re with me.”

Severus felt something unfamiliar tug at the corners of his mouth. At first he tried to fight it, but the force was too strong. He let shine a smile. It was not evil, it was not malicious. It was one that connected to the happiness that had sparked once again in his soul. With a blissful grin plastered on his face, he walked with Lily, grasping her hand tightly as they walked on the trail to an unknown place. Severus smiled because he knew Lily was right. Because he knew he’d follow her anywhere.
*SPOILER ALERT*You may not want to read this if you haven't read Deathly Hollows yet.*
This is my own way of coping with the death of Severus Snape. I feel like Snape has a lot to deal with and overcome before he can move on. Though there is love in this fic, it's not shippy. Also, I realize that in Harry's "death" he was in King's Cross, but I think it's different for every person.
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Gred and Forge</u>

"Arthur and Fred,"

"I'm George! Can't you even tell us apart when we're Harry?"

"Sorry George,"

"Only yanking your wand, I'm Fred really-"

The hardest thing I ever had to do was walking into 93 Diagon Alley without you. For a place that celebrated pranks and good times it felt suddenly black and heavy;  suffocating. Nothing but a great big bloody reminder of every moment I'd ever spent with you. Each product stirred another memory - hours and hours of experimenting, blowing ourselves up, wracking our brains for ideas, searching the halls for willing guinea pigs to participate in our experimenting. How could I stand in that shop day after day selling people laughs? I felt like they didn't have the right to smile, not in our shop, not without you.

The first week was shit. I wanted to punch every customer that walked through the door. It was worse when the regulars asked after you. I'd always reply 'the selfish sod got himself killed and left me to look after the shop'. Drew me a few funny looks but I was glad. I wanted them to feel guilty for asking.

So maybe I didn't do it all for you. I couldn't have continued running that shop if I hadn't. I've always been a bit selfish like that.

I remember that last summer you mentioned wanting a plain and simple wedding, nothing like Bill's. I hope I can give you that. Turns out I'm getting hitched myself. Plain and simple, none of Mum's fussy, frilly, nitpicky nightmares (though I kind've want to see Ron in his old dress robes - it's my special day after all, reckon I deserve one laugh at least).

You'd like her. She's clumsy, got the feet of a giant and can't hold a wand in a kitchen, but funny and a bit mad. Your type, 'minds me a bit of Tonks. Maybe that's not a good thing. I should be sick of reminders of the dead. I get to stare at your ugly mug every day, after all. Your eyes. Your hair. Your great ugly freckles.

Even your smile now.

Your smile was always sadder than mine and a bit distant. Mine's like that now. We've never been more alike now that you're dead.

Sure we were top-ranking pranksters and a pair of formidable beaters to boot, but you and me - we were like pumpkin juice and Firewhiskey. You were the brains of the team. You also worried more. I took the challenges and you carried the weight of them; you always had my back. I hope you knew that I always tried to watch yours too. Really ballsed it up though, didn't I? The one time you actually needed me to save you, I wasn't there. I try not to think what the turn out would have been if we'd been fighting together that night instead of you and Percy.

Hah, well gutted for you. Could've been worse, at least you didn't lose an ear.

That night, the night we moved Harry out his Muggle house, the night it all started, I'd never felt so sick in all my life. I don't get nervous, but I had a feeling we were going to run into trouble. Maybe it was because I caught your eyes while crazy old Moody was sorting us into groups. They were darker, disturbed - you were trying to tell me something, to be careful maybe. I know you hated letting me out of your sight. Fair dos, let's face it, the shit hits the fan when you aren't there to keep me on a leash (or more like my ear hits the ground).

"You see...I'm holy. Holey, Fred, geddit?"

You can almost pin-point the moment when a person's heart breaks. I thought it would make you laugh, but your face looked flushed and serious... You didn't correct me. And suddenly we both knew we'd finally taken a joke too far. But nobody else mattered at that point. We were protecting each other the only way we knew how.

You knew I had a fragile pride - I was the vain one, popular with the ladies. You knew my ego had taken a real beating with Snape's curse. Swapping our names meant nothing to either of us: Fred and George, Gred and Forge. There's old magic in a name; your name's your soul, after all. In the wizarding world it's nothing short of criminal to give it away - not that we were ever strangers to illegal activity. But we were twins; two sides of the same sickle; different as we were alike; perfectly balanced - I lead, you followed. So swapping names was like swapping hats.

Maybe I was selfish, I should never have let you go ahead and continue the game but I didn't want to see that look on your face again. I knew you felt responsible. So you did the only thing you could think of to keep me smiling. My name and image, still intact and your's lugless. I thought that people would eventually guess at our prank, at our swapped identities, but suddenly everything was happening so quickly and then, one green flash after the other, you were cut off from me.

Her name's Nox. I don't know if I really love her. How can I, she thinks she's marrying you after all. I just know she'd make you happy. Don't be a git, I didn't give up my own life. I'm just sharing it with you.

I still get to hear your name every day, that's more than enough for me.


The Weasley twin sat hunched before the gravestone and traced the name carved deep into the stone with his finger: Fred

He sighed, pulling the collar of his jacket closer around his chin. '...It's so much easier seeing my name up there instead of yours.'

A Fred Weasley, Harry Potter fanfic one-shot.

Yeah, I know I've had this posted over on my other account, :iconchyss-starkiller: , but I like to keep all my F+G related works over here in the one place. Please people, don't come telling me that I'm plagiarising Starkiller's fic - I am Starkiller :XD:

So yes, this rubbish one-shot was my instant reaction to Fred's death in Deathly Hallows (my second reaction being my multi-chaptered fic, Twin Vice :lol: ). True it was a bit mean of me bumping off George in favour of Fred, but .... yeah, I have no excuse :shrug: Sorry Georgie! No hard feelings ;) Honestly, I wrote this ten minutes after finishing the book at 6:00am. T'was my way of coping... *cough* Well, that and lots of sex and beer. I'm such a healthy sod.
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There once was a boy named Harry
Destined to be a star
His parents were killed by Voldemort
Who gave him a lightning scar
Yo Harry you a wizard

-The Sorcerer's Stone-

Harry goes to Hogwarts
He meets Ron and Hermione
McGonagall requires he play for Gryffindor
Draco is a daddy's boy
Quirrell becomes unemployed
The Sorcerer's stone is destroyed by Dumbledore

-The Chamber Of Secrets-

Ron breaks his wand
Now Ginny's gone
And Harry's in mortal danger
Tom Riddle hides his snake inside
His ginormous secret chamber

-The Prisoner Of Azkaban-

Harry blows up Aunt Marge
The dementors come and take charge
Lupin is a wolf
The rat's a man
And now the prisoner is at large
They use time travel so they can
Save the prisoner of Azkaban
Who just so happens to be Harry's Godfather
I don't really get it either

-The Goblet Of Fire-

Harry gets put in the
Triwizard Tournament
With dragons and mermaids
Oh no!
Edward Cullen gets slayed!
He's back

-The Order Of The Phoenix-

Hary, Hary, it's getting scary
Voldemort's back
Now your a revolutionary Harry
Dumbledore, Dumbledore, why is he ignoring your
Constant attempts to contact him?
He is forced to leave the school
Umbridge arrives
Draco's a tool
Kids break into the Ministry
Sirius Black is dead as can be

-The Half-Blood Prince-

Split your soul
Seven parts of a whole
They're horcruxes
It's Dumbledore's end

-The Deathly Hallows-

There once was a boy named Harry
Who constantly conquered death
But in one final duel between good and bad
He may take his final breath
These are the lyrics to Harry Potter in 99 Seconds by Paint.

You can find the video here [link] if you want to watch it.

I in know way own any of this I just decided to post it cause I love it so much.
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"Headmaster," Snape matched his stride to that of Dumbledore. "Might I ask a question?"

They were on their way to the Great Hall for the start of the year feast.

"You have already asked one." He chuckled. "But, you may ask another."

"Where is the final protection for the stone?"

"It shall be revealed in time." He replied.

"Yes, sir." Snape dropped the subject. "There is something else that… well, makes me uneasy." He confessed.

"What would that be, Severus?" Dumbledore looked at him, the same quizzical look on his face that he had worn earlier.

"First, why bother with all of the enchantments if there is a back door to the chamber where the stone is hidden?"

"Ah." Dumbledore smiled knowingly. "That doorway can only be opened by the headmaster. I'm not really sure why. It is one of Hogwarts' many secrets, I suppose."

"Also," Snape took a deep breath. "I must bring some suspicious behaviour to light. Professor Quirrell was acting very odd down in the chambers." He glanced at Dumbledore, pausing a moment for a response. When the headmaster offered none, he continued. "He seemed almost too interested in the protective enchantments put in place to protect the stone."

"Are you sure you are not reading too much into his curiosity?" Dumbledore asked. Snape opened his mouth to say something. "I do not distrust you, Severus." He came to a halt at the top of the Grand Staircase and turned to face the Potions Master. "Do not become blinded by your ambitions towards his position."

"Of course, Headmaster." Snape replied.

"I have my reasons for choosing Quirinus." Dumbledore stated. "However, it might be wise to keep an eye on him." He looked at Snape over the rims of his spectacles. "Discreetly."

Snape bowed his head, and Dumbledore descended the staircase and disappeared into the Great Hall.

A moment later, Snape followed him.

Snape had just taken his seat next to Professor Quirrell when the older students began to file in. The hall buzzed with young, excited voices.

A few minutes later, McGonagall walked into the hall, leading a group of rather frightened looking first years. The first person he recognized was a young boy with platinum blond hair.

The Malfoy boy. He thought to himself. He remembered Lucius telling him that the boy would be beginning school this year.

McGonagall lined the students along the staff table, and retrieved the Sorting Hat and stool. Snape thought he could see sweat running down the neck of one round-faced boy standing towards his end of the line.

"Evans, Lily." The little red-headed girl next him gave his hand a squeeze, and then bounded up to sit on the stool. She placed the hat on her head, and a moment later it shouted "GRYFFINDOR!"

She jumped off the stool, and smiled as she ran over to the Gryffindor table, which was cheering loudly. She caught Snape's eye, and beamed encouragement at him. She took a seat next to a boy with shaggy black hair.

A few more names were called.

"Potter, James." This boy had untidy black hair and wore round, wire-rimmed glasses. The hat had barely touched his head when it too shouted "GRYFFINDOR!" He grinned, and sat beside Lily at the Gryffindor table.

"Hi, I'm James."

"I'm Lily." He heard them introduce themselves.

At that moment, he wished he would get placed in Gryffindor.

"Snape, Severus."

He walked up to the stool and sat down, then he placed the hat gingerly on his head.

"SLYTHERIN!" It shouted immediately.

He joined the table of silver and green. He was excited to be in Slytherin, like his ancestors before him, but why couldn't Lily be in Slytherin too?

"Potter, Harry." Snape was jerked out of his reverie by McGonagall's sharp voice calling out that oh-so-familiar name. He heard whispering around the hall, and saw a small, skinny boy with untidy jet-black hair and wire-rimmed glasses step forward and take his place on the stool. The hat was placed on his head, and dropped over his eyes. A full minute passed. The hat seemed to be having difficulty placing him.

"GRYFFINDOR!" It finally shouted. The Gryffindor table let out the loudest cheer yet.

Snape let out a breath he didn't even realize he had been holding. Of course he would be sorted into Gryffindor. Why wouldn't he be? Both of his parents had been in that house. Still, what a thorn in the side it would have been to James if his son had been in Slytherin.

The rest of the sorting passed rather quickly.

Albus Dumbledore stood, beaming at the students, holding his arms open wide. "Welcome!" He began. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!" He sat back down, and the room broke into applause.

The plates before them filled with food, and the feast began.

Snape had barely begun to reach for some potatoes when Professor Quirrell engaged him in conversation.

"Why a troll?" Snape asked him after they had exhausted the topic of potions.

"Oh, w-well, you s-see," Quirrell stammered. "I have a g-g-gift with t-trolls. N-never been a f-f-fan of v-vampires." He shuddered

"Oh really?" Snape asked. "And why is that?"

Quirrell began babbling about a vampire he had encountered in Romania, and so he stuffed his turban with garlic to ward it off. Then, that led him to speak of how he had received the turban as a gift from some African prince for getting rid of a zombie.

For a stutterer, he sure can go on and on. Snape thought to himself.

He suddenly felt a pair of familiar eyes on him. He shifted his gaze slightly from Quirrell's face to the right, and he met the eyes of Harry Potter. He felt like his heart had stopped. He really did have Lily's eyes. He saw the boy mouth something, and then clap his hand to his forehead. Snape looked away.

It was an abomination! The eyes of his Lily looking out of the face of James Potter! Snape had no idea how he was going to survive the next seven years when the living proof of her preference for another man would stare up at him in class every week.

The Headmaster caught his eye, and Snape nodded almost imperceptibly.

"No one can know."
Chapter 3!

I think that this may have been my favorite chapter to write so far. Adding in the memory of Lily getting sorted was kind of a last minute decision, but I am glad that I made it.

Cover Art by: :iconmelissaannselby:

Chapter 4: [link]
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The Potions Master watched the students trickle slowly into the Great Hall for breakfast. There weren't that many arriving, but it was still early yet. Most of the students would come in later, scarf down some food, and then hurry off to their morning classes, their bags banging against their legs as they rushed up the stairs.

Snape took a bite of his toast, and saw a familiar head of untidy black hair enter the Hall. He was talking animatedly to one of his friends – a red-headed boy with freckles on his nose. They sat down opposite the round-faced disaster child who had melted the cauldron last week, and began to eat breakfast.

He frowned slightly as he watched to boys across the room. The boy had many of James' mannerisms, in addition to his attitude. Snape shook his head slightly, and turned back to his breakfast.

It wasn't long, however, until the morning post arrived. Snape looked up expectantly – he had ordered a large box of lacewing flies as his supplies had been running low. However, no owl landed before him. He frowned slightly as the ceiling began to clear out. Maybe tomorrow… He thought to himself.

He was distracted by an unusual movement – the Malfoy boy was walking across the Great Hall to the Gryffindor table and was headed right for Potter. He stopped, and grabbed something from the tabletop. There was a brief exchange, and Potter leapt to his feet. Snape began to stand up, but he saw that Professor McGonagall was already there. She said something to Malfoy, who placed the thing back on the table and walked away. Potter resumed his seat, but his eyes followed Draco out of the Hall.

So, you like tormenting Slytherins too, do you? Snape's eyes narrowed as he watched the Potter boy for another moment. Then, he stood and strode from the Hall.

He walked slowly through the corridors, aiming for the general direction of the staff room. He did not have a class that day, and so was at liberty to do as he pleased.

He finally arrived at the staff room to find it empty. He settled down in a soft chair by the window, and looked out on the grounds. It was nice to just have a quiet moment to look out on the grounds (even if it was a bit bright for his taste) and reflect on the 'old days'. He could remember sitting under the large weeping willow tree by the lake with Lily, reading, or studying, or just talking about anything, everything, and nothing.

His memories were disrupted by movement on the grass below: Madame Hooch was walking across the green, a class of first years in tow. Snape watched them approach the brooms, noticing that many of the first years had nervous looks on their faces.

At that moment, the door to the staff room opened and Professor McGonagall walked in.

"Ah, professor, have you come to watch the flying lesson?" Snape asked her.  She nodded, and took the empty seat opposite him. They both turned their faces towards the window.

At that moment, one of the brooms – the one bearing the round-faced potions failure – lifted itself several feet off the ground. In his panic, the boy slid off the broom and fell back to the earth. Snape stifled a slight smile. Madame Hooch said something to the students, and then marched the boy inside – no doubt to the hospital wing.

He frowned slightly. No sooner had Madame Hooch disappeared than two students had taken flight. One was the Malfoy boy. The other, "Potter." He whispered, distastefully.  He shook his head. "He is just like his father." Severus spat. He saw McGonagall watching him from the corner of her eye. "Quidditch hero." He covered for himself.

At that moment, Harry was streaking towards the ground, chasing something small, and round. He pulled out of the dive at the last moment, the small object glittering in his hand.

"He is more like his father than we realize." McGonagall said matter-of-factly. She stood. "Excuse me, Severus," and she rushed from the room. A few moments later, she was striding across the field. She said something to Harry, and he followed her back inside the castle – an extremely depressed look on his face.

He remained in the staffroom – enjoying his moment of peace and solitude. If he was not very much mistaken, he felt that the Slytherin Quidditch team now had something to fear. If Potter possessed even half of his father's talent, then he wasn't likely to see another Slytherin victory for quite awhile. McGonagall would have to be mentally unsound to refuse Harry the seeker position. She could barely look him in the eye when Slytherin won the House Cup again last year.

He hadn't been sitting there for half-an-hour when a small house elf came scuttling in to the room. She had large ears and a pointed nose. She wore a tea-towel that was stamped with the Hogwarts Crest, and tied like a toga.

"Please, Mr. Professor, sir," she began, her eyes glued to the floor. "The Headmaster wishes to see you immediately.

Snape stood, nodded curtly to the elf, and then swept from the room. He quickly ascended to the third-floor.

"Chocolate frog." He said to the griffin. It leapt aside, and Snape climbed the staircase, only pausing to knock on the office door.

"Come," Dumbledore's voice filtered through the heavy wood. Snape pushed the door open and stepped inside. He found McGonagall standing a few feet away.

"You wished to see me, Headmaster?" Snape asked.

"Yes, thank you for coming, Severus." Dumbledore replied. He turned to McGonagall, "that will be all. Thank you Minerva." She bowed slightly, and then backed out of the room. Dumbledore picked up a magazine off his desk, and opened it up, Snape recognized it as the latest edition of Transfiguration Today.

"So, I hear that Harry Potter has some Quidditch talent," Dumbldore said, not looking up from the article he was reading.

"Was that a question?" Snape asked, his jaw tight.

"Not really." He turned a page, and then glanced briefly at Snape.  "Are you surprised?"

"Not really." Snape echoed the Headmaster. Dumbledore smiled slightly. "He's just like him." Snape spat. He began to pace the room, his anger getting the better of him.

"Oh, how so?"

"He is the mirror image of James: He possess no discernable talent, his skills can barely pass as mediocre, arrogant as his father, a determined rule-breaker, delighted to find himself famous, attention-seeking and impertinent – "

"You see what you expect to see, Severus," said Dumbledore, without raising his eyes from his magazine. "Other teachers report that the boy is modest, likeable, and reasonably talented. Personally, I find him an engaging child."

Maybe he has a sprinkling of Lily in him after all. Snape thought to himself somewhat sarcastically. Lily had been modest almost to a fault, and she had been the brightest witch of her age – in spite of being muggle-born.

Dumbledore turned another page, and said, without looking up, "Keep an eye on Quirrell, won't you?"

"I thought I already was." Snape replied.

"The time for discretion has passed." Dumbledore replied. "Argus reported to me just this morning that he has seen Quirrell lurking in the third floor corridor during his off hours. His classroom is on the 1st floor." He paused. "I trust you know how to proceed."

"Yes, sir." Snape replied.

"Then you may go."
It's still Monday somewhere, right? lol. I thought that this would be done alot later than it was... Sorry I got a little off schedule. Packing for college has me a little frazzled.

Snape gets to vent a little of his "disappointment" about Harry to Dumbledore, and acknowledges that he might be just the slightest bit prejudice when it comes to looking at Harry's character.

anyway, enjoy!

Cover art by: :iconmelissaannselby:

Chapter 6: [link]
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In the middle of the dark road on Grimmauld Place stood a man who was staring between houses number eleven and thirteen. Slowly, the two houses moved aside, revealing another between them.

For the first time in almost twenty years Sirius Black walked up the stairs of Number Twelve.

"Home, sweet home," he thought bitterly as he entered the place he hated most, slamming the door loudly behind him.

"BLOOD TRAITOR! FILTH! SCUM! SHAME OF MY FLESH! HOW DARE YOU RETURN TO THE HOUSE OF MY FATHERS! - "the portrait of Walburga Black started screeching.
Sirius hurried towards the painting and struggled to cover it.

"Always nice talking to you, Mother," he grumbled, as he finally pulled the curtain shut over the screaming portrait.

The house became completely silent. He looked down the dark hallway. Every surface was covered in a thick layer of dust. He could see the dark shapes of the heads of the house-elves on the walls. To say that he was unhappy about being back would be a big understatement. However, he was still considered a wanted criminal by the Wizarding World, and had to remain in hiding.

Dumbledore had re-formed the Order of the Phoenix and Grimmauld Place was to be used as headquarters. It was protected by a Fidelius Charm cast by Dumbledore himself and various other protective spells that had been cast by his father years ago.

Sirius sighed. Offering the house to the Order was the only helpful thing he was able to do. He was absolutely useless.

The reason the Order was being reformed was because the Ministry of Magic refused to acknowledge Voldemort's return. Cornelius Fudge was determined to make Harry look like a self-centered, attention seeking lunatic. Of course he didn't realize that by ignoring Voldemort's return, he was helping him, giving him time to become more powerful.

Idiots, Sirius thought, spitting on the filthy floor.

He took his wand out of the pocket of his tattered robe.
"Lumos," he muttered. He held the lit wand in front of him and began to walk further into the house.

Sirius caught his reflection in a mirror hanging on the wall. Azkaban had taken its toll on his looks. He was no longer the effortlessly handsome young man he once was. His skin was pale, his face gaunt, and his cheeks hollow. His hair was long and tangled and he really needed a shave. His grey eyes were tired and framed by dark circles.
Sirius shook his head and continued down the hall until he reached the staircase. Buckbeak was in his mother's room upstairs, waiting to be fed.

On the topmost landing he saw a door with his name hanging on it. Sirius opened the door and entered his old bedroom.

The entire room was decorated in red and gold and a large Gryffindor banner hung on the wall. The rest of the walls held various pictures of bikini-clad Muggle women on motorcycles. His mother had been furious with him, but was unable to remove them thanks to a permanent stick charm. Sirius smiled to himself. He had wanted to set himself as far apart from his family as possible.

Sirius walked up to his writing desk and opened the top drawer, taking out an old photograph. Two sixteen year old boys were standing outside Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, holding two large ice-cream cones. Both were grinning broadly.
One had untidy black hair and round glasses. The other had shoulder-length black hair.
Sirius grinned, remembering the day the photo was taken. During Christmas holidays in his sixth year he had had a big fight with his mother and had stormed out of the house. Using their two-way mirror he contacted James and they spent the entire day at Diagon Alley.

Tears began to well up in Sirius's eyes. He missed James so much. He had never felt worse than on the night of October 31st in Godric's Hollow: seeing James lying lifeless on the floor, his eyes wide-open but seeing nothing. He cursed Voldemort for murdering his best friend. He cursed Wormtail for betraying James and Lily.

Sirius couldn't believe that people thought he would ever serve Voldemort; that he was responsible for the deaths of his best friends. And yet in a way he was. James had wanted Sirius to be their secret keeper, but he had declined, thinking it would be less obvious if it was Peter. How could he have been so stupid as to trust Peter with something so important? Wormtail had always been the weakest and the most cowardly of the Marauders. Clearly they had underestimated him.  He was smarter and more cunning than they had ever given him credit for. Why hadn't he just killed the bloody rat when he had the chance?! Why hadn't he just gone along with James's plan? If it hadn't been for him, James and Lily would still be alive.

Sirius looked down at the photo of the laughing boys once more.

"I'm sorry Prongs," he whispered as tears fell from his eyes.
A fanfic written by me :D
I have this on but I decided to post it on here too :D

All the characters and settings belong to JK Rowling
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