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message 1: by Ashley Marie (new)

Ashley Marie I'm going to share some of my Harry Potter fanfics here, and there will be a separate thread if you guys want to leave any feedback :)

message 2: by Ashley Marie (new)

Ashley Marie Teenage Dream
Draco Malfoy / Nymphadora Tonks

Two figures made their way up the winding path to the castle, both looking rather worse for the wear. Draco's grey eyes flashed with contempt; he had hoped no one would find Potter until the Hogwarts Express had made it back to London. Or at least until they were halfway back, and the fat hag with the food trolley tripped over him.

Draco's eyes narrowed – it irked him that he didn't recognize Potter's companion. There was something familiar about her, but he couldn't place it. Surely his family would never have associated with someone so mousy and plain-looking. His ears strained to catch the conversation; he could hear Professor Snape's voice, but Potter and the woman barely spoke a word. He saw her turn away, a sob clearly audible as she retreated down the path into the light drizzle. A slight frown crossed the Slytherin's face, but he slid between the enormous oak doors without a sound before Snape and Potter could come upon him. Draco knew he was Snape's favorite student, but that didn't stop the man from being irritated with his presence from time to time.

He settled back into his place at the Slytherin table beside Pansy, who looked around at him in mild surprise and relief.

"Where did you disappear to?" she whispered.

"Loo," he said simply, turning his attention to the rest of the table.

Throughout dinner, the woman's face lingered in Draco's mind. He couldn't for the life of him figure out why, either. it wasn't as if she was remotely attractive, let alone years too old for him and probably Mudblood scum on top of it, not to mention emotional. Female emotions weren't something Draco dealt with. He toyed with his shepherd's pie, angered by the fact that he couldn't stop thinking. He was not accustomed to this sort of irrational behavior.

Pansy leaned against his shoulder. "Are you sure you're alright, love?" she asked. "You seem a bit off. Is everything--?"

"Everything's fine, Pansy," he snapped. "I'm fine."

She scowled, casting a glare around the room. "Did something happen with Potter? I saw him come in late--"

"No," he stressed, dropping his fork. "I'm turning in early. See you tomorrow."

He stood abruptly and strode out of the Great Hall, leaving her gaping after him on the bench.

Draco paced in the empty dormitory. He recognized the woman, however vaguely – of that much he was certain. But where had he seen her? Around Diagon Alley perhaps… but then why would she have been escorting Potter? She's in the Order, he deduced. Satisfied for the moment, Draco climbed into bed. The drizzling rain continued to fall, lazily tapping the windowpane and lulling him to sleep…

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Draco found himself at home in the manor; more precisely, in his bedroom. Moonlight fell through the window, illuminating the tasteful green-and-silver décor with its natural glow. The mattress shifted slightly beneath him and he suddenly became aware that he was not alone in bed. Reaching out, Draco smirked at the feeling of cool skin beneath his touch. It was certainly not the first time he'd dreamt of having a girl in his bed. She rolled over and gave him a sultry smile, and Draco's eyes widened. He'd known, somehow, that it would be her and not Pansy – what he didn't plan on was her being so… different. Attractive, even. Of course, it helped that all the worry and stress had gone from her face: she seemed five years younger. He wasn't sure what to make of her hot-pink hair, though.

She gazed at him, the moonlight reflecting in her eyes. "What are you thinking?" Her voice was calm, and the words flowed as easily as honey.

"I'm thinking you're beautiful," he confessed softly, a hint of bewilderment in his words as he traced her face with his fingers. She smiled, pressing a kiss to his hand, and pure lust sparked to life in the pit of his belly.

"And I'm thinking I want you," he added with another smirk. The woman mirrored his expression, looking positively wicked and flooding his mind with nasty, delicious thoughts.

"Is that all?" she asked, nuzzling his shoulder. "Just want?"

His stomach twisted. "I don't know. I almost… I feel like I love you, but I don't even know you."

She laughed. "Of course you do," she said. "You saw me bring the Potter boy back to school."

"If I…" Draco trailed off, keeping his thoughts private. He often found he could control his dreams, to a certain extent, and when he tried to draw parallels and make sense of reality and fantasy simultaneously, things got… complicated. If I saw you in real life, he finished privately, I'd never think you were the same person. But somehow he knew.

She had impeccable facial structure, he had to admit as he gazed at her. Quite similar to his mother's and Aunt Bellatrix…

Draco woke with a shudder of impossible realization as fleeting memories flooded into his consciousness. He had seen her before with ridiculously-colored hair, escorting Potter and the Weasleys onto the train last year. He and his father had been gloating over their recognition of Sirius Black's Animagus form…

Black… her features, come to think of it, had been quite unmistakable…

He uttered a single explosive oath and threw himself facedown into his pillow.

She's my cousin.

message 3: by Ashley Marie (new)

Ashley Marie Making New Memories
Ron / Hermione

"And you thought my room was messy?"

Hermione stood on the threshold of Ron's bedroom, gaping in shock. "When was the last time you cleaned? Right before you left for Hogwarts in first year?"

"Fifth," Ron shot back. "Last time I did it consciously, anyway. Oh no, that was about a year ago, right before Bill and Fleur's wedding, remember I was all pissed off because the guests wouldn't see my room anyway?"

Hermione wrinkled her nose in disgust. "You are not helping your case, Ronald."

He shrugged. "In case you don't remember, I didn't get back home until a month ago after being on the run for almost a year. How was I supposed to clean when I wasn't around?"

She rolled her eyes. "Right, anyway, we're here now, so let's get to it."

Ron goggled at her. "Can't we just get rid of it and start new?"

"And waste how many Galleons on a new wardrobe and everything else when it all works perfectly fine?" Hermione snapped. Since Ron had gotten a job as an Auror at the Ministry, he had found himself with quite a bit more money than he'd been used to in the past, and it was all Hermione could do to convince him to save it. She waved her wand at the room in general. "Scourgify!"

At once, books were straightened and returned to shelves, the bed was made, two inches of dust vanished from the carpet, and clothes folded themselves in the dresser.

Ron flopped down on the bed with a huff, as if he'd done all of it himself. "There, all better."

"No," said Hermione, "now it's organized so we can sort through it and pack."

Ron muttered something under his breath, which became a loud and very distinct swearword as a last straggler of a book zoomed out from under the bed, smacking him in the face on its way to the bookshelf.

The flash of gold from the book's cover caught Hermione's eye – it was common knowledge that most of Ron's possessions were secondhand and rather shabby, so something this extravagant was rather unusual.

"What's that one?"

Before Ron could protest (or rather, stow the book out of sight again), Hermione had snatched it from the shelf.

"Honestly, Ronald?" she said, a mix of mild interest and revulsion at the gaudy cover displayed on her face. "Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches? Honestly?"

"Fred and George gave it to me," he mumbled. "I've never read it."

"Yes," Hermione noted, flipping through the pages, "that explains why you've bookmarked the chapter on compliments."

Ron turned scarlet and looked at the floor.

Hermione set the book down but continued to gaze at it thoughtfully. Ron looked up in surprise; he'd been expecting her to fly into a rage about how he'd won her over by cheating with a self-help book.

"What do you want to do with it?"

He blinked. "Come again?"

"Well," Hermione said with a smirk, "you've achieved what you were after, so it obviously fulfilled its purpose. Shall we give it to the secondhand shop in Diagon Alley or did you want to keep it for sentimental reasons?"

Ron shrugged. "I reckon I could pass it on, assuming we have a son."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "And not sneak it over to Harry and Ginny's? Ginny said she hopes their first child is a boy."

"Harry's already got a copy."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Of course he does."

Ron dragged himself from the bed and yanked some cardboard boxes in from the hall.

"I don't see why we have to sort it now," he said childishly. Hermione took a box and immediately set upon the bookcase.

"It's just practical," she said absently, piling old schoolbooks into the box. Ron, recognizing Lockhart's collection, promptly unpacked them.

"These are the biggest waste of paper I've ever seen," he declared.

"Why haven't you burned them like you said you would, then?"

"Mum wouldn't let me."

And so it went, Hermione boxing things up while Ron was content to let her plow through it and assist where needed.

"I do have every intention of a semi-new wardrobe, though," Ron informed her as Hermione started on the dresser. "I'm not taking anything maroon, I've always hated that color."

"Well there goes half of it," Hermione said good-naturedly, as she began a separate pile of 'too-small-or-just-don't-want-it' in the corner.

All the clothes fit nicely into Ron's old school trunk, after he'd thoroughly rid it of broken quills, crumpled parchment and sweet wrappers. After awhile, they sat down for a moment of rest. The room had been mostly cleared up – Ron had made his bed and his Chudley Cannons posters had been taken down and rolled up – he insisted on taking them along. The Lockhart books joined a few other old schoolbooks on the otherwise-empty bookshelf, and the pile of old clothes towered beside it.

"Wow," said Ron, sitting down with a huff. "I never knew there was so much carpet in here."

Hermione laughed, looking around the room. "Ron, what are your mum and dad going to do now everyone's moved out?"

"Dad will just keep being Dad; I expect Mum'll do a massive re-cleaning and straighten everything up all over again."

"But being alone in such a big house?"

"The Burrow's never been empty for more than two days, at best," Ron pointed out. "Most of us come round for the big family dinner on Sundays, we come two nights besides, and you know Harry and Ginny are over all the time."

"Five or six constantly-empty bedrooms is quite a lot, that's all."

"Come off it," Ron said. "You think Mum's going to stand for no one staying the night, especially with all the grandkids she's bound to have?"

"That is true." Hermione smiled, imagining the house coming alive again with the shouts of children. Bill and Fleur already had little Victoire, and Percy's wife Audrey was pregnant – it wouldn't be long before they all had families.

"Speaking of families," she said slowly, "I was wondering: where did you mum find that enchanted clock downstairs?"

Ron looked perplexed. "Dunno, she had to've had it made special though. Why?"

"I was thinking, since she added mine and Harry's and Fleur's and Audrey's names – and I imagine she'll be adding Angelina soon enough – it's getting rather crowded with all the names, isn't it?"

"What are you getting at, Hermione?"

"Well… I thought it might make a nice parting gift, since everyone's out on their own now, if we had a new one made for her that was all the grandkids."

Ron kissed her. "Brilliant. She'll love it, absolutely love it. You're amazing."

Hermione beamed. She stood up and waved her wand at the boxes by the door, which vanished.

Ron sprang to his feet, aghast. "Where the bloody hell did you send them?"

"To the flat," she said matter-of-factly. Ron groaned and threw himself back on the pillows.

"All that work and you're not going to make me carry them?"

Hermione looked revolted. "Merlin, no. They must weigh a ton each, all the rubbish you have… packing and unpacking are fun."

"Says the obsessive-compulsive organizer," Ron snorted. She ignored the comment and tugged him to his feet.

"Come on, your mum wanted us to stay for one last lunch."

"I highly doubt it'll be the last."

Hermione shook her head wryly and pecked him on the lips.

"One last lunch before we're finally in our own place."

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