Rapunzel's Tower

I miss this.

2005-09-05T00:00:46Z

     Anyone reading this probably knows me for two Ron/Draco one-shots and my long unfinished opus, The Irony of the Dragon Tamer. TIOTDT is officially...two years and five months old. At it's creation, I knew how I wanted it to end, and that ending is a concept that I've never lost. Even now, I know how this story will end (should I work up the gumption to finish it). It's just getting it to that point.

     Not to mention the restrictions of real life, which, upon further thought, I hate to bring into fanfiction journal. We come here to explore worlds that escape our own, and by complaining, I'm feel I'm defeating the purpose. However, there is reasoning for me being away for so long, aside from my own highly stubborn writers block. I'll just give an example--I've still yet to get the chance to even begin HBP. I bought it on Harry Potter eve, and haven't had the chance to read it. *shakes head*

     I'm mourning my losses here, and I apologize for that, but I also apologize for leaving everyone who ever remotely liked my story, well...hanging. I hate when good fic isn't finished, and although I don't feel I have the authority to classify my own story as good, it's still hypocritical to leave my own pieces without conclusion or closure. I can't promise to finish it anytime soon, but I can promise to pick it up again, though, without restrictions of deadlines, and try to finish it. I can't say when, but this story will end, and when it does, I will share it with you. Thank you so much for your interest and support in my work--I can't quantify how much it means to me.

     All my love and thanks--I really miss you guys.

Candy...yum.

2004-06-13T08:02:30Z

     Okay, okay...I know I should be working on Chapter 10 of TIOTDT, but...hey. I had one more piece of fluff in my head that needed to get out. So this is my last muse (for the time being), and I'm definately working on TIOTDT. Hope this can quench your thirst for some Ron/Draco luvin', though. My boys are fun in this one. I'm usually not one for established relationships, but this one practically wrote itself in my head, and I didn't really have much say in how it came out. *shrug* I can live with that. Hope you like it, and remember, it's only my second slash sex scene. I'm practicing. lol.

***********

Title: Hot Chocolate
Author: Rapunzel
Dated: June 2004
Disclaimers: I own nothing, nor do I make any money.
Charaters: Ron/Draco, Draco/Ron
Spoilers: None
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Established Relationship. Smutlet. Draco finds something sweet to add to bedroom life.

     Once again, I have no beta, so all mistakes are my own. If anyone is interested in betaing, I'd be muchly appreciative...any takers? lol.

     "Sometimes, I think Muggles are geniuses," Draco exclaimed, exploding into the room.

     "Oh really?" Ron replied wryly, only glancing up from the article he was reading in the paper.

     "Well, not all their ideas are genius, but this one, this one...Come on, to the bedroom!" He waved a paper bag at Ron and wiggled his eyebrows.

     "What are you talking about?"

     "If you follow me to the bedroom, I'll show you."

     Ron sighed, folded his paper, and followed Draco through the hallway, calling, "If it requires Muggle batteries, I'm not touching it."

     Draco laughed and replied, "You're no fun. Now get naked."

     Ron chuckled. "Your subtly is such a turn on." However, he obediently reached to remove his shirt over his head. He tossed it on the floor only to find Draco right in front of him, hands splayed over his chest. He lowered his head for a kiss, automatically wrapping his arms around the other man. Draco nibbled at Ron's lower lip, tonguing the inside. Ron moaned softly and deepened the kiss.

     "You know," Ron gasped between kisses, "I'm not so certain that this is a Muggle invention..."

     "I didn't mean this," Draco said, tossing his head back as Ron moved to his neck. He ran his fingers through Ron's hair as Ron bit lightly and sucked. "Oh God..." Draco gasped as he thrust lightly, uncontrollably, and Ron tightened his hold around the blond.

     "Wait, wait...this isn't in the plan..." Draco said, lightly pushing off Ron's chest.

     "What?"

     "Well, it isn't in the plan yet. You haven't seen what I've found."

     Ron let his hand trail down the man's clothed back to rest on the curve of his ass. "I think we're doing alright, if you ask my opinion." He pinched lightly.

     Draco jumped, but said, "Come on, Ron. It'll be fun. I promise you'll like it." He stuck his lower lip out. "Please?"

     Ron sighed, but stepped back. "Alright, alright. Fine. We'll do things your way."

     Draco's grin was back, and he said, "Good. Now take of your pants, lie down, and close your eyes."

     "Sometimes, I can't believe the things you come up with," Ron said as he divested himself of his lower garments and stretched across the mattress. "Until I remember you're you."

     "Yeah, yeah, save it for later—like after I'm done with you and you won't have the energy to lift your eyelids." Ron could hear Draco fumbling with the paper bag as he spoke.

     "What are you doing?"

     "You'll find out soon enough. Just keep your eyes closed. Now where in the bloody hell did I leave that wand..." Ron heard Draco begin to rummage around the room.

     "What do you need a wand for? Jesus, Draco—"

     "Found it!" Ron heard the rustling of clothing, then Draco quietly murmured a spell under his breath.

     "That sounds strangely like a warming spell, Draco..."

     "Didn't I tell you to shut up before?"

     "No."

     "Oh, well then. Shut up now."

     Ron opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off. He gasped as something warm dripped onto his chest, approaching his right nipple. "What's that you've got?" he asked breathlessly.

     "Muggle ingenuity at its best. God, I couldn't wait to do this to you..." He trailed off, concentrating on pouring.

     Ron shifted. The warm substance on his chest made him shiver against the cool air of the room. He inhaled deeply and the aroma of chocolate met his senses. He laughed in surprise. "It's chocolate! You're pouring hot fudge on me?" He laughed again.

     "Hold still, I don't want to waste any."

     Ron couldn't help himself any longer, and as he felt the stream of warm chocolate travel lower down his abdomen, he opened his eyes. There was a deep concentration on Draco's flushed face. "What's so ingenious about hot chocolate?" he asked, drawing Draco's eyes to his face.

     "It's in a jar. Check it out." Draco held the jar upright, and Ron could read the words 'Dove' and 'Smuckers.' "The jar makes it so much easier to heat and pour, and its much better then a brown plastic bottle." Draco dipped his finger in the jar then withdrew it and stroked it against Ron's lips. Ron licked and found the chocolate warm and sweet. He closed his lips around Draco's finger and sucked, laving it with his tongue. Draco's mouth dropped open and he just watched his finger working in and out between Ron's lips, his breath coming in gasps. Ron relinquished his hold on Draco's finger and grinned at the man. Draco physically shook his head and then smirked. "You're gonna pay for that."

     "Oh, how terrible," Ron chuckled as Draco dove in, and lips and teeth clashed. Draco thrust his tongue, sweet and blatant, and he could taste the chocolate on Ron's tongue, smell the chocolate from around them, feel the warmth between them. He pulled back and whispered close to Ron's ear, "You know, you're delicious."

     Ron sniggered then gasped as Draco sucked on his earlobe, nibbling. Draco moved down, his lips attacking Ron's jaw line, his neck, his shoulders, his chest, all the while speaking between kisses and touches, "I've always loved the taste of your skin. Its addicting, but I always thought that it would taste even better with a touch of chocolate." Draco bit softly at Ron's nipple, and Ron moaned and bucked. "Turns out I was right."

     "Of course you're right, you're always right, just keep...there...yesss..." Ron hissed and babbled as Draco moved across his chest, lapping at the trails and patterns of melted chocolate left across his freckled chest.

     "Brown looks amazing on you, Ron. You should wear it more often," Draco called as he followed one path of chocolate to Ron's navel, licking out the hollow's confectionary syrup, following it lower. Draco stopped at Ron's cock, blowing lightly, then watched as Ron's muscles tensed for control. His eyes were squeezed shut, his breathing ragged. "Ron," Draco called.

     Ron opened his eyes, almost glowing with want. Draco loved that look. "I want you to watch me."

     Ron moaned something like despair as he watched Draco lower his mouth over his cock. Muttering curses, he watched as Draco worked his mouth down slowly, and his tongue was *everywhere* that counted. Hot and sweet and bumping the back of Draco’s throat before the man began to pull back, licking as though devouring some phallic confection. “Fuck ice cream unless they get *this* in a flavor,” he growled.

     “And who’s going to collect the samples for tasting?” Ron gasped, as though he wasn’t at risk of having his wit sucked out through his dick.

     Draco growled again. “That’s my bloody job, Weasel, so I don’t want to see any inquiries in the post.”

     “I—God!” Ron gasped as Draco went back down, this time impossibly deeper, swallowing. “I’d say...Jesus!...you’ve got the...fuuuck...the position.”

     Draco pulled off again. “Damn straight I’ve got the position.” And back down again, working slowly, sweetly, and just hard enough at just the right time, and Ron bit his lip, bit down hard to keep the screams in until Draco hummed teasingly around his length. Ron could hardly glance down to see the satisfaction in his lover’s eyes. “Oh God, yes...right...fucking there, God,...Draco...,” and nothing was more satisfying than listening to Ron shatter and being responsible for the breaking point. A long groan and Draco felt himself *dripping*, dying to press down against, fuck, anything, but this was more important...and Ron wasn’t going to last much longer.

     A gasp and then, “, Draco! Yessss,” hissed wildly as Ron’s hips jumped, thrusting, and Draco grasped at them and sucked, hollowing out his cheeks, and Ron was arching, and a little bit of teeth...

     “Draco!” Ron cried as his tense body shot, pumping and Draco was there, swallowing, holding on, relishing the strength in the body beneath him, and God, the pleasure he could bring to him, loving the loud, echoing breaths as Ron drifted back to himself. Draco crawled back up, tongue and mouth taking detours to finish consuming all of the left-over chocolate clinging to Ron’s sweat-sheened skin. Ron pulled at his head, his fingers lacing through the blonde, silky hair, and Draco didn’t mind being pulled up for that lazy, loving kiss that fired the rush of his blood, straight to his crotch, and he felt sense being drained by the ounce as long as those lips, that tongue...

     Ron pulled back, finally opening his eyes to that pale body with a few smudges of chocolate here and there. “What, no cherry?” he said softly, his eyes laughing.

     “Ronnnn,” Draco groaned, resisting the overwhelming urge to thrust, “You got that years ago and you know it...”

     Ron chuckled, and something flashed in his eyes. “I remember that day well...”

     “Ronnnn! You bloody bastard, if you don’t touch me, I’m gonna fucking hex you!”

     “Touch you? Is that all you want?” Ron pouted, but the gleam in his gaze was nothing like innocence. “And here you taste so sweet...” Ron leaned over to clean off the smudge of cocoa at the man’s nipple.

     “Such a fucking tease...” Draco said through teeth gritted against the pleasurable sensation.

     “Draco, how could I not tease when you just covered me in chocolate?”

     “Ronnnn...” The red-haired man was swirling his tongue around Draco’s nipple, and it, he was so *hard*...

     Ron moved back up to Draco’s ear. “Ask nicely,” he goaded, making Draco practically shake. Ron moved his hand across that pale, unmarred body, down to the fire that was practically flat against Draco’s stomach. Ron wrapped a strong hand around Draco’s cock and sucked hard on the man’s neck.

     “*Christ*, you fucking,...please, please...just—“

     Draco’s plea was cut off into a gasp and as Ron stroked once, hard and fast, and Ron was moving down, down, and light burst behind Draco’s eyelids as Ron wrapped his mouth around him, fierce and fucking *perfect*, just what he needed...and Ron was moving *fast*, and the pain was there, the pleasure *blinding*. He tried to catch something like his breath and cursed and gasped as Ron tongued the slit at the head and sucked, moving down, and the rhythm was too much, and he’d been just *waiting* for it—

     Draco fisted his hands in Ron’s hair as he seized up, coming nice and hard, floating for what’s never long enough and falling back into the arms of his lover, waiting to catch him.

     Draco gasped for air and Ron was right there, lips on his eyes, his cheeks, the corner of his lips, soft. He opened his eyes with the wicked pleasure of knowing there was nothing to draw him away from this moment, and there was Ron, with his soft gaze, amused.

     “Admit it,” Draco said softly.

     “Admit what?” Ron said, nipping at his lips.

     “That my ideas are the best.”

     Ron scoffed. “I don’t know if I can say that. The candle wax didn’t go too well...”

     It was Draco’s turn to scoff back. “You *would* bring that up. At least admit that this was a good idea.”

     Sigh. “Fine. This *was* a good idea.”

     “And that I’m an unbelievable chef.”

     Ron laughed loudly. “An unbelievable chef?”

     “Yup, I’ve proved the recipe for great sex.”

     Ron raised an eyebrow. “And you’re really ready to admit that you bought it from a muggle grocer?”

     Draco bit him on the chin, and Ron laughed. “It’s not the chocolate. Our sex is good with any ingredient.”

     Ron suppressed a chuckle. “With that being said...I think we have a can of whipped cream somewhere...”

     Draco smirked and swallowed his laughter in a onslaught of kisses.

***********

     Like? Hate? Comments make me a happy Punz (and I'm just this side begging). *wink*

I've actually finished one!!!

2004-06-04T07:04:50Z

*total shock* I've completed my first slash sex scene. I've been trying for so long to get one out, but its been such a hurdle for me to try to jump, but finally, I've got one! Please oh please peek and tell me what you think!

***********

Title: Requirement
Author: Rapunzel
Dated: June 2004
Disclaimers: I own nothing, nor do I make any money.
Charaters: Ron/Draco, Draco/Ron
Spoilers: Minutely for GoF
Rating: NC-17
Summary: A partial wet dream, two prefects out past curfew, and the room of requirement.

I have no beta, so all mistakes are my own. If anyone is interested in betaing, I'd be muchly appreciative...any takers? lol.

Requirement.

God, there was no getting any sleep tonight. Ron couldn't remember the last time he'd been so, well...horny. He'd been half conscious earlier, blissfully so, mind drifting, dreaming...swift contact with pale skin and a brush of blond hair...and apparently his cock was as pleased as his subconscious, for both were awake and ready. Demanding attention. Fuuuck, Ron thought, just what I need.

He opened his eyes as inaudibly as possible, hoping that he hadn't spoken before and belied his now need for stealth. He glanced at his clock, sighing inwardly. It was only one in the morning, but transfiguration was painfully bright and early at eight. He hadn't been counting on sleeplessness. Or the raging hard-on.

He shifted and moved to sit up, looking at the other beds in the room. In the bed to his right, Harry groaned and rolled over, asleep. How nice that must be. Across the room, Dean and Seamus also seemed to be snoring. A moan brought his attention to the bed to the left. The sheets were tented and a lit wand created a small glow within, where Neville was doing...probably what Ron had in mind. Oh, great, Ron thought, directed at his crotch, now you want me to join in a wank with Longbottom. No way in hell. If only he hadn't looked around, he could have cast a silencing spell, done his business...but no, now he knew exactly what Neville was doing. The only option was to get out. And quick, judging by the speed of Neville's groans.

God, you'd think if anything would kill an erection...Ron thought as he descended to the Gryffindor common room. Not that he minded, he just didn't wish to join. Jacking off with someone seemed too close to sex for Ron. He knew other boys did it, sometimes together, but his family life instilled him with all sorts of issues, so a wank-fest wasn't a viable option.

All was quiet, as it should be. Even Hermione should be in bed by now—she never patrolled the halls past midnight, if even that late. Should everything go as planned, he'd be gone and back again in a flash with no one the wiser, and hopefully catch a few winks before dawn. Where was his destination? Prefect's bathroom, fifth floor. A bit embarrassing to have to walk all that way for relief, but it was better than holing up in the Gryffindor facilities, fearing being caught. And in the prefect's bathroom, a man could relax in style. Being a prefect had its advantages.

He exited the dormitory, placating the just-wakened-surly Fat Lady with claims that he was just scanning the hall. God, stop your bitching so I can get this over with, Ron pleaded internally. Finally, her eyes closed once again and Ron was nearly jogging for the steps leading down from the seventh floor. The halls were dark, and he vaguely regretted not getting a chance to peek at the Marauder's Map for Filch, but soon it wouldn't matter. He moved so swiftly that he didn't quite see a black foot slip out into his path until it was too late and he was flying towards the ground.

Ron landed left elbow first with a thud and a groan. Just my fucking luck, he thought as he rolled to a sitting position, rubbing his elbow and swearing under his breath.

"Now, now, your majesty," a deep voice slurred with a certain serpentine hiss. Ron looked to find the offending foot he had tripped over belonged to none other than Draco Malfoy. Draco fucking Malfoy, Ron growled.
"What the hell was that for, ferret?"

"Where were you going in such a hurry, King Weasel?" Draco countered, ignoring the first question.

"None of your fucking business."

"Well now, I believe it is my business." Draco fingered the prefect badge on his chest.

"Oh come off it, you know damn well I'm a prefect too. Fall the fuck off of your pedestal already."

"So harsh, so conflicting," Draco cooed, and Ron tensed. Wait a second, he thought, something's not right here. Where's the countering verbal abuse? It's nowhere near normalcy...something's not right.

"What do you want?" Ron asked, cursing at the waver in his tone. Fuck if his adrenaline wasn't mixing with other raging hormones and having a party in his crotch. The last thing Malfoy needed to notice was the tenting of his pants. Thank God he grabbed his school robes, and damn him for not grabbing his prefect badge...or his wand. Fuuuck.

Draco glanced around, and then focused on Ron's face, his eyes narrowing sharply. “Follow me, and I’ll deal with this accordingly.”

That threw Ron off. “What? Deal with me? I’m not following you anywhere!”

Draco shook his head. “You’re obviously out of the dorms past curfew—“

“Prefect!” Ron interjected.

Draco smirked. “I see no badge.”

“Draco—“

“As I was saying, you’re out past curfew, and you’re causing a loud disturbance in the hallways, if I do say so myself.”

“You know what?” Ron said, picking himself carefully off the ground so he could look the ferret in the eye. “I wouldn’t be causing a bloody disturbance if you’d leave me the fuck alone.”

Draco shook his head and clicked his tongue. “So terse. What’s got your weasel in such a knot?” He stared Ron straight in the eyes.

Ron was seeing red, and bloody hell if the throbbing in his cock wouldn’t subside, just for a minute. “Malfoy, what do you want from me—“

Ron was cut off. Couldn’t have predicted it as he flew back against the stone wall. The bastard shoved him, and shoved him hard. “Son of a bitch,” Ron groaned, preparing for attack, but Malfoy only stood still, holding his arms. “What the hell was that for?”

“I told you—“ Malfoy said, stepping closer, his arms still restraining Ron’s. He stopped though, and Ron fucking froze, because Malfoy was much, much too close. Close enough to...please God, no...Ron watched as a shocked expression crossed the blonde’s expression, willing himself not to move in the fucking least, as his crotch was nearly flush with the other boy’s thigh. Then Draco chuckled, stunned and breathless. Oh. My. God. No. Then the smirk. Ron couldn’t stop the flush from flooding.

“Is that what this is about, Weasley?” Amusement saturated his tone as Ron tried to get as far away from that voice as possible, being pinned against the castle wall.

“Just. Leave. Me. Be,” Ron said through clenched teeth.

“Not a chance,” Draco said, and leaned in. Ron flinched for the strike, but found an assault of a different type, possibly even more debilitating. Draco’s lips were on his own, and he gasped at how hot they were. Draco took the opportunity to thrust his tongue in, completely dominating the kiss, hard and deep and *no*, Ron was *not* going to make a single noise, admit that Draco’s tongue...that this was fucking *hot*. Not a chance.

Ron flexed his fists, and Draco tightened his hold against his arms, and Ron was held immobile—or so he insisted to the voice in his head that insisted that he could, should break away. Draco moved even closer, his thigh shoving between Ron’s legs, and dammit! He was *not* groaning into Draco Malfoy’s fucking mouth!

Draco broke away, and Ron gasped for air, panting. Draco’s hot breath against his ear, and then, “I can take care of this for you.” Ron pulled his head, banged it against the wall, but couldn’t see Draco, couldn’t wince—Draco’s lips were on his neck, biting, nibbling, sucking as Ron grew tense, and he *couldn’t* be straining for it...couldn’t...

“Never thought you’d taste so good, Weasley...” and Ron wanted to move his hands, to push (pull) and God, to move, but against the wall, his chest heaving as Draco kissed around the collar of his robe, the scrape of teeth, and Ron’s hips twitch without permission as his eyes slam shut. Lips moving up his neck again, the warmth of Draco’s breath, and “I can’t wait to taste the rest of you.” Draco shifts and his thigh is moving, sliding, and Ron’s going *crazy* because this is crazy, this is...

“Why don’t you let me help you out?” And Draco pulls out, and the pressure’s gone, the hands at Ron’s arms are gone, everything’s gone—except for a pair of silver eyes burning into his own as soon as he opens them, and dammit, they both know.

Draco doesn’t even hesitate. He grabs Ron’s palm and pulls, leading through the dark hallways to a door, and Draco chuckles and pushes, and inside is plush and unbelievable.

“What in the hell...” Ron says as he looks around. Candles light the room, and there is a single round bed, covered in sheets that look silken. A small polished table stands near, holding what appears to be champagne, and a tube and some silver wrappers that Ron refuses to suppose about.

Draco looks up and says, “Thank you for small miracles.” He turns to Ron with a glittery smile, and says, “Gotta love the Room of Requirement. Now where were we?”

We? Ron thinks, and it even sounds stupid to himself. Draco stares pointedly, an eyebrow raised, and Ron’s just catching his breath and his sanity, and with the what-the-hell-am-I-doing beginning to sink in, He holds up his hands.

“Malfoy, just wait a second here—“

“Oh no, uh-uh. Not allowed. Come here.”

“Malfoy—“ Ron can’t say he didn’t see it coming *this* time, but sanity was only *beginning* to return, so Malfoy had no trouble whatsoever chasing it away again. Such a clever mouth.

“The room’s ready, that bed looks oh-so-inviting, and I want to see you on top. Naked. Now.” Draco’s hands contrasted his tone, for they slid so gently down the front of Ron’s robes, parting them, sliding them off to the floor, and his eyes devoured Ron, who was showcased in a white t-shirt and a pair of green boxers. “Is this what you wear under your robes, Weasley? Nice to feel the Quiddich conditioning paying off,” Draco rumbled low in his throat as his hand slipped under the hem of the shirt, up and across. “I *have* to see this,” he said, smiling as Ron’s arms raised in assistance of losing the offending cotton before he realized what he was doing. Still oddly surprised to be the half nude objective of a leering Malfoy. Draco’s eyes scanned the length of his pale, freckled body, lingering on the stretch of his cock beneath the green flannel, and when they reached his face, he was shocked further at the burning lust there. Most shocked of all that he was even here.

“What the bloody hell am I doing...?” Ron murmured.

“No, no. No thinking now, Weasley,” Draco said, and another shove later, Ron was sprawled and spread on the black silken bed.

“What’s with you and the shoving? Such a violent fuck—“

Draco held Ron against the bed as he crawled up his body. Draco was still fully clothed, minus his robes, and when had he lost them? “Violent? This isn’t going to be a violent fuck. Not even close.” He straddled Ron’s hips, pressing down lightly, still keeping the firm pressure against his chest even as Ron gasped and thrust against it. “Yeah,” Draco said on a breath, settling in, enjoying the reaction, and that was...oh, that was...

Ron’s eyes shot open at the sound of cloth shifting only to watch Draco drag the cream-colored sweater he was wearing over his head, and all of that cream-colored skin beneath made Ron groan before he could hold it back because Malfoy was in his lap, half naked, completely wanting this—

And he completely wanted this.

And Ron had hands that could finally move, could finally touch, and they were *starving*. Gripped the hips still clothed in black, sliding up, and the skin was soft and hard at the same time, hard and strong and his hands were digging in like he couldn’t help it. Draco hissed at the scratch of nails against his nipples.

“Glad you finally decided to join me—“ Cut off at the clash of tongues as Ron dragged him down to meet his own mouth. Draco’s tongue was matching the rhythm of the light thrust of his hips as his hands, God, they were holding him back, and that was almost as hot as Draco growling as he just *rode* Ron’s hips, thrusting and uncontrollable. He pulled off and bit at Ron’s lips, chin, just barely keeping such torturous contact. Ron was searching.

“Jesus,” he felt more than heard whispered against his lips. “I didn’t think...I...” and he dove back in, his tongue fucking *stroking* Ron’s. Ron’s hands shifted, squeezed at the contact of firm ass, and just grinding and it was too hot, too bitter and oh so right...

A high pitched keen, and fuck if Ron knew whose it was, so long as that mouth kept moving over his skin, murmuring, lapping, and God, sucking. Words drifted up as Draco moved down, “freckled,” “taste, oh God,” “addicting...” And then Ron seized up as Draco’s tongue delved into his navel, thrusting, making love to it, and if only it was...

And then he moved again, catching at the orange hairs that led below the green of Ron’s boxers, that led below...

Draco looked up, sucking at Ron’s stomach, laving the skin with his tongue and how could Ron not be on his elbows watching, watching like blindness was the only other option, and Draco didn’t move his head, but his hand moved to cup at the growing ache and the groan Ron let out was just this side of begging, let alone permission. Draco moved his hands to the waist band, lowering slowly, tracing with fingers stroking, mouth worshipping...

And a yank without warning, and Ron stared, shocked and naked, and the room was far too hot as Draco stared at his cock as though it answered all his questions. He whimpered to watch Draco’s tongue dart across his own lips, and it was all so close...too close...

At the sound, Draco looked up at Ron’s face. “Watch me,” he said, “Watch me, you have to, I *have* to see you...”

Ron gulped and nodded. As if there was any other option. And slower than time itself, Draco lowered his face close, blowing lightly. Ron gasped at breath that just wouldn’t come, his back arcing.

“Yeah, fuck yeah, just like that,” Draco demanded in a whisper, “Show me exactly what I do to you.”

“Draco—“ Ron breathed, then a gasp-groan because Draco’s mouth was *hot* on his skin, his cock was just sliding in, and it was so *wet*. Draco’s hands were at his hips, holding him back, and Draco was the one demanding, setting the rhythm, just enough to make Ron’s brain spark brighter than any pleasure before, and Ron feared it would break altogether, so fucking sharp and sweet and just what he needed—

Draco’s eyes were still on Ron’s face, but they were heavy lidded and fire as he dragged his tongue up the underside of Ron’s cock to push at the slit in the tip and Ron would be mortified if anyone could hear him screaming, could hear him at all...and Draco, how his eyes could still smirk with a mouthful of cock, and he was enjoying this.

He pulled off with an obscene pop and Ron nearly cried his protestations. “Draco, God, please...”

Draco chuckled, low and just *sex*. “You don’t have to beg, Ron. I think freckle’s my new favorite flavor.”

And as Ron felt the pre-come shoot, Draco was going down, down, down, and Oh. My. God. The world was stopping, exploding, and God, fucking Draco Malfoy’s *throat*, hot and tight—

And a hum of approval, the pressure below the head of his cock, and there was no way Ron could warn Draco, could halt the tensing and pure arching of his body, his back, no way he could do anything but come as bright as lightning, as loud as thunder, as sharp as pain, the best and the hardest, just...

And the world spiraled back to him sweetly, panting and relaxing and he felt the soft brush of blonde hair, of sleek muscle as Draco climbed his way back up, and there were tender kisses, touches, unimaginably but still happening, and Draco was right in front of his face, watching. A kiss, deep but slow, and the taste of himself made him needy as he wrapped his arms around the other boy, pulling him in close. Draco groaned into his mouth as his still-clothed crotch brushed against Ron’s body, and Ron reveled in how Draco couldn’t help thrusting against him, and those noises...

“Come here...” And Ron’s hands were at Draco’s fly, fingering the zipper, pressuring the strength beneath the fabric, and Draco moaned into Ron’s mouth as the fabric was spread and...

“Commando?” Ron questioned, a light chuckle, and Draco couldn’t reply with anything but a whine as Ron grazed his knuckles across the heat.

“Ron, damn you...” Draco said, but Ron replied, “Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” and he wrapped his big hand around the blonde’s cock.

“Oh....oh fuck....” And profane babble was Ron’s favorite language as he watched with greedy eyes as Draco thrust against his fist. Couldn’t help but to slow the pace a little, slow and deliberate, driving Draco higher and higher, should the boy’s whimpering be any sign of his successes.

“Please, Ron, Jesus...” Draco was whispering, moving, couldn’t possibly keep his eyes open, couldn’t focus on anything else, and he looked so far away, so...so...

“Draco, open your eyes.”

Compliance and a flick of the wrist, and Ron watched Draco’s eyes as he froze up above him, gasping and coming hard and unexpected against the skin of Ron’s stomach. Ron caught him as he went limp atop him, kissed along the column of Draco’s neck as the he breathed heavily, not moving for many long, peaceful moments.

Then Draco shifted, pulling in towards Ron’s warmth, and Ron wrapped himself around those pale shoulders as Draco weakly ran a finger amid the freckles on Ron’s chest.

“Freckles,” Draco said in a soft voice, “Hmm.”

“What about them?”

“I’m musing. Never would have thought them to be so sexy, but I guess when they map down your chest—“

Ron laughed. “Something tells me you didn’t quite need a map.”

And they were quiet again, and before Ron closed his eyes, he caught the color black from the corner of his vision. He lifted his head to see a wall lined with what appeared to be...what, sex toys? Black leather and whips and chains and, “What in the hell? Who required *that*?”

Ron looked down to find Draco with a sheepish-but-still-mischievous smile.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Don’t criticize till you try it,” and Ron was sure he heard the laugh in his voice.

He paused for a moment as though thinking. “I guess anything’s better than a wank with Longbottom.”

Ron laughed at Draco’s shock, kissing the remarks away.

.fin.

************

Okay, now that I have this out, maybe the next chapter of TIOTDT will be a little easier. *crosses fingers* I'll keep a-typing!

A hopeful E for effort...

2004-05-01T06:56:55Z

     I've been away for so long, but TIOTDT is just begging to be finished, especially since I've had the entire plot mapped in my head since the very beginning. It's just getting from A to B, from start to finish--that's the hard part, but hey--I'm working. Again. Finally. Want to see what progress I've made? It's only a bit, but it's the start of Chapter 10. I did a lot of Quiddich research for it, too, at Harry Potter Lexicon. I swear, if that site didn't exist, I'd have no clue of what to write.

********

     "All I'm saying is that Oliver would be able to do a lot more if you would train him as both a Keeper and a Seeker."

     "A Seeker? Ron, you're crazy! He's the most coveted Keeper in the association! We're lucky enough that we stole him away from Puddlemere when we did—how would the Cannons look if we trained him as a seeker?" Draco opened the door to the vehicle.

     "Draco," Ron sighed, "You don't understand. You're not seeing it right." He began climbing inside, but paused when Draco didn't reply. "Draco?" Ron turned his head and found Draco's eyes fixed on his behind. "Draco!"

     "Draco blinked, then smiled guilelessly. "Hmm?"

     Ron sat down and Draco climbed in beside him. "I said you weren't seeing it right."

     Draco chuckled lowly and eyed Ron slyly. "On the contrary, I'm seeing things just fine." He stopped leering only to order the driver to return to the Potter residence.

     "Come on, Draco. We're talking Quiddich here." Ron stared pointedly until Draco sighed.

     "Ron, how could I possibly make Oliver train as a Seeker without looking foolish and not to mention insulting Harry? It's preposterous. Seekers train for sight and speed."

     Ron scoffed. "Yes, sight and speed—none of which a Keeper could use, right?" Draco frowned, and Ron continued. "Yes, Oliver is a fine Keeper. Yes, one of the best in the association, perhaps in ever. But where do his faults lie? His quaffle-handling is amazing, but where is his speed? Albeit he's the fastest Keeper, some Chasers in the league indeed out-chase him. And he's been fooled by some innovative quaffle-handling before, if you recall the last Magpies game." Draco opened his mouth, as if to object. "Wait," Ron said, seeing that he wasn't making his point. "Okay, look. When you were Slytherin Seeker, sixth year, remember the Siplock Sprint?"

     "Yes—it was a pain in the arse, too."

     "Still, what did it teach you? It integrated—"

     "Accuracy in speed and sight, yes. I remember."

     "Okay then, listen. Mix the Siplock with the Dudlow exercise, which would combine sight, speed, and coordination—and it would be easy to do, too! The Siplock and the Dudlow are similar action, but not in form. If you have a Keeper with the form and the sight of a Seeker—"

     "If you had a Keeper with the form and the sight Seeker, he would be practically invincible," Draco interrupted, surprised at the epiphany. "Ron, that's ingenious," he said, before he could stop himself, because obviously Ron agreed, if the smug smile was any sign. Lucky for Draco, smug victory looked delicious on Ron—as if everything didn't look delicious on Ron. Draco couldn't help but to jibe, "Okay, oh great Merlin of Quiddich, you win, but don’t force me to take that smile off of your face."

     Ron raised an eyebrow and scoffed. "As if you could."

     Draco actually laughed. "Go on, keep asking for it, Ron. I'm happy to deliver." His hands were itching to touch.

     "Deliver? Draco,...you're so—" Ron froze at the firm grasp high on his thigh. Draco slid his hand down towards Ron's knee, then back up again, feeling the controlled flex of muscle under his palm. He wanted to growl as his imagination took the sensation to many different levels. He leaned in to whisper against Ron's ear, "You're so strong...God, what I'm going to do to you..."

     Ron shivered as Draco traced his tongue around the shell of his ear, hardened as teeth tugged at the lobe, shuddered as the hand on his thigh began to, God, move.

********

     I think I like where this is heading...what do you think? Sex is definately in this chapter--I just have to get there.

Let me explain...

2004-01-29T06:35:24Z

     ARG!! Why must I be so incredibly busy right now? There is never any time to write! Friends, my situatuion right now is hectic and, if anything, not very productive for fic updating. It all starts with the second and third week of December--I fall ill and am in the hospital, and unable to finish the last semester. The weeks following are filled with recooperation, fun, but least of all catching up with school. So now, my deadline to finish my schoolwork lies two weeks in the future, but that does not allow me to disreguard the beginning of the current semester. So I have five papers to write, three books to read, and three final exams to take for last semester, and then I get to play catch-up for this semester, because I live in the northeast of the States--snow is terrible, and for the last four days, I've been unable to leave my house for any reason. Our driveway is a sheet of ice, an inch thick at the least.

     Is that enough for you? Well, tack on the renovation of my house. I'm still living at home for the next semester, so I'm still living with parents that put home renovations as first priority and school work (which I'm paying for!) as second. For the last two weeks, I've had to forgo my homework, my studying, my reading for classes, and my catchup work for last semester to move furniture, put up shelving, dissemble my old room and the last ten years of my life and reassemble it into a much smaller living space. My life is seperated into boxes and garbage bags now, and I'm so behind on everything, I'm borderline violent. And I'm broke, too. Heh, that doesn't affect my writing so much, but it really stresses me out, and damn but it feels good to get it all out of my head for a second.

     *sigh*

     Thanks, I needed that. So yes, TIOTDT will be a bit delayed for a couple of weeks. Once I get past the last-semester work, though, I should find my writing time once again. This semester is filled with classes to fill general required credits, so it's not too difficult, overall. Just now, when I've got an extra 19 credits hanging over my head. I'll be better soon. Thanks. *smile*

rapunzelstower @ 2004-01-29T01:23:00

2004-01-29T06:34:33Z

Couldn't help myself...

2004-01-06T05:17:25Z

Which HP Bunny Will Bite You Next? by mctabby
Name
Favorite Vegetable
you will write	Bill Weasley
paired with	Blaise Zabini
your fic will involve	spanking
and end in	undesirable publicity

Created with quill18's MemeGen!

Damn me if that doesn't sound interesting...*wink*

TIOTDT--Posted up to Chapter 9

2003-12-15T11:36:52Z

And I am uber proud of myself, because I've finally got the next chapter of TIOTDT out! It took me long enough, didn't it? I'll post it here, cause, I don't know, I feel that I should. Meh. Here it is:

************************

Grumpy, frustrated—that didn't even begin to describe it as Ron downed one more glass of champagne. Only one, though, he thought. It was getting way too simple to drink his entire vacation away, alone. He tried not to think what that implied about the rest of his life. "Alone and drunk with the bloody dragons," he said through clenched teeth. He didn't notice his hand tightening on the empty glass flute until it shattered in his grasp. Surprised, he watched as the blood seeped through his clenched fist numbly. It dripped onto the hardwood floor. He jarred when finally a drop of blood slashed up from the forming puddle to mark the Potter settee.

"Jesus, what the hell am I doing?" he asked aloud, and left the room swiftly to find a sink to wash his wound. In the bathroom, he ran the cold water for a few moments, and then placed his hand under the stream, and only then did he unclench his fist. His wounds weren't too deep, but they were deep enough—they surely wouldn't disappear with a healing charm before tomorrow. He shook his head, staring at his hand. The flesh beneath his rough skin was visible and pink. He sighed and glanced at the mirror, then froze, catching his own reflection.

The dark circles under his eyes were evident in the Potter powder-room lighting, more so than they'd ever been. His hair was unkempt. He was dismayed at his reflection. He reached up to touch the glass incredulously, but drew back sharply when crimson streaked from his hand across the surface, cutting his reflection in half. Eyes wide, realization finally set in. “What the hell am I doing?” he breathed again. This was madness. How ridiculous did he look, living the past two days trying to get into the trousers of one of his oldest enemies? Yes, Draco was a good guy, and yes, they could probably be good friends, but still! This is Draco Malfoy, who made his childhood miserable, who made him ashamed of his past, who…

Ron’s thoughts trailed off as he dwelled. Trying to get into the trousers of one of his oldest enemies? Where the hell had that come from? He'd not thought of Draco for, hell, years. At least not since their tirades of Hogwarts. No, that was a lie…Draco popped into his head randomly, but not so much as this, as to be assaulting his lips and grabbing Draco into his lap at every chance! And when had he become so forward? This urge inside, it was nothing like the alcohol-rushed affairs he'd had back in Romania. Although alcohol was commonly involved here, he definitely wasn't drunk before. It was a conscious decision to tempt him in for another go. But damned if he could understand why. He was missing something here.

He’d not felt so agitated in such a long time, he mused. So alive. Not really in all of his time studying with Hagrid, not in his time in Romania. The dragons made him happy, but there was something missing. Was it Draco? Draco who made him feel alive again? Hell, Ron was a gift to magical creatures and wizards alike, and although he came from a poor wizarding family, or was now a Romanian hermit—something just wasn't right. He'd never realized it before, because no matter what he’d been doing, it never seemed as important as Draco seemed—as Draco was—right then and there.

Ron blinked and realized he’d been staring at his disheveled reflection for a while. A blush crept up as he recalled how he’d earned the appearance. His pursuit, he reflected, however misunderstood, had been rather persistent. He glanced down again, and noticed his wound had stopped bleeding, so he wrapped it up, cleaned the mirror, and headed back to his room.

Once inside, he leaned against the door and sighed. For a moment he paused, and then he slowly opened his eyes and moved away, casting his eyes accusingly at the wooden frame. The position just felt too familiar. He retreated to the bed, casting off his shirt. His mind was still working. So I want Draco Malfoy, he thought, and not because he’s attractive…well, really attractive…fuck it, he’s delicious…but because he makes me feel things that I don’t feel with anyone else. Right? That seems substantial enough for a relationship, doesn’t it? Its more than just sex…whether we’re fighting, glaring, conversing, or kissing, there’s an energy there, and he’s got to bloody well feel it, too. Right? So what was so bad about the pursuit? But how can it be more than sex? We've never even had sex yet! There was still something bothering him, and he couldn’t quite figure it out. He yawned, stretched, and decided that it wasn’t worth thinking about tonight. He pulled his socks and pants off and slipped into bed in his boxers. “I’ll figure it out tomorrow,” he promised himself as he dimmed the light.

*******************

Ron entered the pub, pulling his jacket closer around him. Inside, a rough fire was roaring in the center of the room. Ron felt its warmth as he passed by, heading for the bar. He grabbed a stool and sat down, rubbing his hands together, glancing up. He found himself looking directly into the gray mists of the blond bartender’s eyes. The bartender smiled and winked as if he knew what was on Ron’s mind. Ron looked down, bashful, feeling the contrast of his wind burned face beginning to flush. His attention, however, was stolen by a rogue voice from the door.

“Ron! Ron, my boy!” Charlie called, walked over, and grabbed the next wooden stool at the bar. He clapped Ron on the back, a brotherly show of affection and support. “How’s the new young dragon that you herded from town last night?” To the bartender, he motioned, “A pint, good lad.” He watched as the blond bartender moved to tend to his order, and said, “Sodding fool, that bartender.”

Ron opened his mouth to answer Charlie’s surprisingly caustic comments, but he froze as his eye caught something on Charlie’s sleeve. There was a black spider, round and bulbous with hairy legs. His mouth hung open as he felt an immediate stab of the old fear he’d harbored back at Hogwarts for the creatures. How foolish, he thought, I’ve worked with the creatures since then without problem. I should just brush it away. Try as he may, though, he was unable to lift his hand to lift the creature from his brother’s inner arm, or was he able to tell Charlie of the spider’s occupancy. Charlie moved on, not waiting for his brother’s answer, jumping from topic to topic. Ron could not halt his growing anxiety as the spider crawled around. He wondered in the back of his mind how Charlie couldn’t sense his distraction. Words rushed by, but the only thing that remained in Ron’s conscious was the spider.

“Oh, and did you hear about Draco Malfoy?”

The spider was forgotten. Ron’s head jerked up, and he looked his brother straight in the eye, and asked, “What about Draco Malfoy?”

Charlie scoffed. “Seems like the ferret finally some scum that could stand him for over an hour. Haven’t you looked at the Prophet lately? It’s all over the front page—Draco Malfoy finds his mate.” He moved his hands from left to right as he said the words, punctuating them with a burst of fingers. Ron stared at him, eyes wide. Charlie scoffed, and took a large gulp of his pint, tipping back his head. As he finished the drink, he wiped his mouth and eyed Ron warily. "What? What’s stolen your tongue, eh?"

Finds his mate. No, that couldn't be. Ron opened his mouth to speak, but something grabbed his attention again. The spider had jumped, and he looked down at Charlie's sleeve to find that it had grown larger and seemingly more intimidating. He stammered.

"About bloody time the bugger quits taking up the news, that's what I say," Charlie continued, ignoring Ron's distraction. "The man's bad blood, and the least I hear of him, the better. They say he's with a lad, too. A bloody fag, to boot."

Ron's eyes jerked back up to his brother's face again. What? he thought, Charlie's never been so bigoted before...hell, Charlie's slept with more men than anyone I know! And then the spider jumped again, and began crawling up Charlie's bicep, up the flannel material, and it grew and grew. Ron began to sweat. He tried to move his arms to shoo the creature, but he just wouldn't budge.

"The bugger's a menace to society!" Charlie barked, his eyes bulging. He began to breathe heavily, and with every breath, he grew taller, larger. The spider, about the size of Ron's fist, crawled onto Charlie's shoulder as Charlie seethed. Ron looked around as people began shouting and running, and suddenly, Ron was running too, out of the pub, out of the clearing, but he couldn't escape. Once he was out of the pub, he ran, but was caught by a large dragon, larger than any species he'd ever seen, and it roared and blew fire and brimstone, and Ron knew—he just knew—the dragon was Charlie.

"He's wrong! A freak! He should be killed!" Charlie roared, and Ron could see that Charlie had the blond bartender in his grasps, was crushing the poor kid, and the spider was crawling around his feet.

"Ron, help me!" The bartender called weakly before his mouth was smothered by force of the dragon.

Ron sprang into action. He cast a spell that he'd never heard before, but it sounded something like acceptance, and the dragon went down, crying terribly, cursing Draco and Ron. The spider squealed and shrunk with the defeated dragon until it was smaller than a thumb. Ron sighed as the dragon lay on the ground, and watched as the bartender ran up to him and threw his arms around him, kissing him heatedly. Surprised, Ron drew back only to find Draco's smiling eyes in front of him.

"Anywhere, Ron, where ever you go. I'll follow you anywhere," Draco whispered into the air, and then resumed the kiss. Ron heard his name over and over on Draco's lips, and he smiled as he drew back and opened his eyes.

"Well, Sleeping Beauty. Sweet dreams?" The same voice drawled as Ron smiled into gray eyes. Ron was about to reach up for another kiss when he paused for a moment...dreams?

Draco wasn't moving, and it was then Ron realized that Draco was poised above him, and further more, that he was lying down—and then it dawned on him—he'd been dreaming!

"Ah!" Ron shrieked, and Draco jerked back. Ron jumped upright and scrambled back against his bed board, eyes showing his shock.

"Ron! What is it? What's wrong?" Draco asked, worried.

"You! Wha...hey! You! How, er, what are you doing in here?"

Draco frowned. "We're going to watch the Cannons today, so I thought I'd...uh, wake you." He paused, and Ron's eyebrow rose as he sensed that Draco was a bit unsure of his actions. "I didn't know you were going to freak out like that."

Oh. Ron digested the information with a sigh. "I don't usually freak out like that. I just had a—," and Ron shivered as the details of the dream undulated into his conscious.

"A what? A nightmare?"

"Um,...kinda. It was more a pretty blatant manifestation of my subconscious...," Ron thought aloud," so, yeah...I'm pretty fucked up."

Draco laughed. "Well, at least you've got your diagnosis, Sigmund. I can live with that. However," he said as he stood and bowed dramatically, "I cannot live with you leaving the house—with me—in those pajamas." He paused for a moment, then continued with a smirk, "Unless leaving the house isn't in your plans. Either works with me, but in both situation, you will be loosing your flannel pants."

Ron chuckled to hide his blush. "And see, I like these pants, too. I thought they looked good on me."

Draco widened his eyes and laughed. "Hell no, even I'm not taking that bait." Draco grabbed the comforter and yanked, uncovering Ron clad only in those lucky pajama bottoms. He crossed his arms as he surveyed and said, "Are you sure you want to see the Cannon's today? I mean, I own the damn team, and, hell, I could parade them past you in tutus tomorrow afternoon..."

Ron was off the bed and heading for the shower. He brushed a kiss across Draco's lips and laughed. "Somehow, I don't think Harry would be up to that idea." Before entering the shower, he said, "Anticipation makes it all the sweeter, Draco."

Growl. "Get in the damn shower before I hex and jump your ass."

*******************

The day was beautiful, and why shouldn't it be? Draco had practically ordered it so, and he'd be damned if something foolish like the weather was going to fuck up his perfect day with Ron. Yes, perfect, and so what if Ron could tell on the ride over that he was on edge? Today had to go successfully, and that's all there was to it, because now that Draco had found Ron, he wasn't ever letting go. Crazy, forever thoughts, though—he should keep them to himself, at least until after the first week.

The first week. Draco couldn't help grinning at that—barely contained the dance of glee. Finally, after a world of negativity telling him it would never happen, he was sitting next to Ron Weasley, running his fingers along the hem of Ron's jeans, waiting to introduce Ron into his world, eager to offer Ron a permanent position there. If Draco knew for a fact that this wasn't just a whim, that Ron wouldn't rethink this in days or weeks, then hell, they'd elope tonight. It was hard enough keeping his hands to himself. His restraint was the final proof, though. If it was anything less than love, Draco would have domineered the entire meeting from the first instant. No, he was taking it slow, or at least trying to take it slow. He just wanted to be sure that Ron wanted this, too. Damn it, Draco thought as he glanced at Ron, who was staring out the vehicle window at the passing sights. This car ride is far too long, or we're far too silent, he mused, because I'm thinking far too much. Draco continued to mindlessly run his fingers along the hem of Ron's denims, and smiled to see the blush creeping over the other man's face. He ran his fingers further up Ron's thigh, still seemingly innocent, until he gave a harsh tug to the belt loop on Ron's hip. Startled, Ron jerked away from the window towards Draco. Draco swooped in for a quick kiss.

Ron chuckled, still blushing. "What was that for?"

"My own peace of mind," Draco replied. "This ride is taking far too long." Ron's expression changed, and Draco was both amused and aroused at the fully-grown, pouting red-head. He laughed and said, "Ron, don't pout—it's dangerous."

"I'm not pouting! I haven't seen downtown London in years…" Ron exclaimed, crossing his arms, his lower lip conspicuously protruding. "And why is pouting dangerous?"

Draco shook his head. Someday, the man will learn, he thought as he caught Ron's lower lip between his teeth, teasing with his tongue. Who was he to complain, so long as Ron never stopped kissing like that? "Being in the car with you this long makes me want to show you something other than the sights," he gasped against Ron's lips.

Ron burst out laughing. "When did you become so fond of puns?"

Draco feigned hurt. "They're not puns. They're innuendo. Double entendres. There's a difference."

"There is? What's that?"

Draco smirked. "Destination."

Ron couldn't hide the grin as he admonished Draco. "You know what, Draco? You really need laid."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Well yeah. Duh."

The vehicle rolled to a stop, and Ron glanced out the window. "Where are we heading?"

"The practice pitch for the Cannons."

Ron looked confused. "I thought you guys practiced in Devon."

"Well, usually we do, but Harry and I decided to have a go with the team at Harry's London pitch. It's in that building, there." Draco pointed to a worn-looking building down the road from where the vehicle had parked. "It looks small, but it's actually quite adequate—for an indoor, that is. Nothing beats an outdoor pitch, you know, but as far as indoor facilities go, Harry's running the best."

"The pitch is just Harry's?"

Draco chuckled. "Well, as far as everyone else knows. Come on, let's go."

They approached the black phone booth near the alley between two dark buildings. Draco punched in a series of numbers, saying them aloud. "9-3, 7-4-2-5-5, 2-6-6-7-8-3-7."

A disembodied voice said, "Welcome to the Chudley Quiddich Facility. Please state your name and business."

"My name and business?" Draco snorted. "It's Draco Malfoy and…guest." He winked at Ron. "Now let me in my own damn building."

"Oh!" the voice said, startled, "Mr. Malfoy, I apologize! Its just that—well, you usually apparate, and—"

"And I'm still outside the building," Draco said sarcastically.

"Right away, Mr. Malfoy," the voice said, sharp and nervous.

The booth lowered and the men were taken into the lobby of the facility. Ron looked around in awe at the interior of the building. There were many more people than he expected. "Wow," he said, "I didn't know it was public."

"Well, it wouldn't be fair to have a perfectly good pitch in the middle of London and not allow other wizards to use it, would it? Think of it like a Muggle ice skating rink, only much bigger."

"A what?"

Draco laughed. "I'm not sure either. It was Harry's comparison, just like this place was originally Harry's idea. On a different note, would you like to go to my private box to watch practice? The pitch should be clearing out in minutes. Many of the people here will stay to watch the team's official practice. It should be pretty successful today." Draco grabbed Ron by the arm and led him towards the private stairwell that led to his box.

"Draco Malfoy!" A female voice called out shrilly.

Draco paused, then groaned.

"What?" Ron asked.

"Already?," Draco replied, more to himself than to Ron. He turned around and found himself faced with shrewd, sixty-something looking woman. "Rita Skeeter," he said in a saccharine-sweet tone of voice, "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Rita Skeeter?" Ron blurted, his eyes bugging. "Wow, you got—" He stopped himself before he said, 'old,' and said instead, "uh, new glasses!"

Rita turned to eye the tall red-haired man. "Do I know you, sir?" She thought, and said, "You do look awfully familiar…have I ever written an expose? Of your love-life or something?"

"Rita," Draco interrupted, "let me introduce you to Ron Weasley."

"Ron Weasley?" Rita squealed. "The Ron Weasley? The Dragon Tamer?"

"There's no such thing as a 'dragon tamer.'"

"Of course not," Rita said to appease him. "How do you do, Mr. Weasley! Please, let me call you Ron—so, Ron, what are you doing out of Romania? Romania! Yes, I knew I've seen you before! I wrote a piece on your talents back when you were graduating! It was a good piece, if I do say so myself, although it was shadowed by the war and all, and I was just getting back on my feet again—"

"Rita," Draco said, the tone of his voice harsh, "if you wouldn't mind, practice is about to begin, and we're heading to watch." Draco's hand found Ron's arm again.

Rita watched the action with her eyes, then gasped slowly. "You! You two are a couple, aren't you?" Headlines ran across her eyesight, then she hurried on to speak, "Draco! And all this time, I've been dying to pin you with a young debutante! You clever boy!" She reached her wrinkly hand over to pinch Draco's cheek. Draco pushed her arm away, annoyed. Ron grew red with embarrassment. "Well, let me leave you two to, well…you know! You tame that dragon, Ron!" She squealed again, and then rushed away, her hands already digging in her crocodile purse for parchment and her faithful Quick Quotes Quill.

"Damn it," Draco said, and then he looked at Ron. Ron's eyes were wide with bewilderment. Damn it! Draco thought, she's going to scare him away! I just hope he doesn't have any qualms with his name next to mine in the society pages. "Come on, let's go. The damage is done now."

Ron blinked. Damage? Why was Rita Skeeter seeing him with Draco damaging? Unless it had something to do with the person Draco wanted—especially if it wasn't him. The thought struck Ron, and he began to get nervous. If Draco wants someone else, then what the hell am I doing here?, he thought, but followed Draco up to his box.

They reached the door to the private box. Decorating the door was a silver serpent. His eyes were brilliant with green gem stones. It hissed as Draco murmured the incantation to open the door, and then they were admitted into the room. Ron's doubts were put on hold at the beauty of the room. The floors were a dark wood, there was a fully stocked bar, a roaring fireplace, and a comfortable looking emerald set of furniture. It was like a comfortable lounge.

"How do you watch Quiddich in this room?" Ron asked.

"Watch," Draco instructed, and found his wand. Another incantation, and the walls of the room disappeared, giving both occupants a full view of the entire pitch area.

"Woah," Ron said and approached the missing wall. "Are they still there, or just invisible?"

"See for yourself."

Ron extended his hand forward cautiously only to have it meet some invisible barrier. He laughed. "Wow, who developed that?"

Draco chuckled. "I guess you could say it's a spell I've been working on developing for a few years. So, do you want anything to drink? Sit down, the practice is starting."

Ron moved towards a comfortable chair by the fire. "I'll just have some water, thank you."

"Water?" Draco wrinkled his nose. "I don't think I have water...here, have some champagne."

"Of course," Ron sighed, "Champagne."

"What's wrong with champagne?"

"You're just not hiding your plan very well."

"My plan?" Draco said as he raised his glass to his lips.

"To get me drunk and seduce me later tonight."

Draco paused, his drink halfway to his mouth. He looked at Ron pointedly. "Believe me, when I seduce you later tonight, it won't matter if you're drunk."

Ron snorted. "Really? What makes you so sure?"

"What, that I'll succeed?"

"No, that you'll be the one doing the seducing."

Eyes met for a moment, clashing fire with fire. Ron grinned impishly. Practice is going to be far too long, Draco thought. "Fine, I'll keep your champagne, then."

"No, hand it over. I'm thirsty. Oh look, here comes the team." Ron pointed, growing excited as they pushed off the ground for some flight exercises.

Draco brought Ron's glass over from across the room and sat on the couch nearby. He handed the glass to Ron, his fingers brushing against Ron's, the skin he met rough, calloused. Waiting for those big hands on his skin again...yes, for once, practice was going to be far too long.

***********************

And that's all she wrote...at least for tonight. I'm planning to get the next chapter out by Christmas. That's in 10 days, too! Wow, hope I can do it.

Why can't I ever stick with just ONE idea?

2003-12-12T09:52:01Z

     *sing-song voice* Oh, I'm an insane freak, Oh, I'm an insane freak...

     I can't stick with one story. It kills me. I should be killed. Anywho, I'm posting what I got so far. I need, like, slasher-sex-scene help, cause the closer I get to the actual sex, the more reluctant I am--I'm afraid that I'll fuck em' up, and I so don't want to fuck this stuff up.

     Anywho, yes, I've got a new fic begun. Clark/Lex, because I'm in love with Lex Luthor, and nobody has ever written Lex playing the piano, and I'm also in love with the piano. I think it's sexy...*pout* Maybe someone else will, too. I don't have a title yet, so go w/ the summary.

****************

Clark's ears piqued as he stood outside the solid castle walls and listened carefully. He noticed music coming from inside, strange and unlike anything he'd ever heard. He could tell that it was a piano, but the music itself—it wasn't the Beethoven that his sneering music teacher raved over, nor was it the bubble-gum tinkering from the radio to which he rarely paid attention. Clark liked music—he thought rock was cool, and didn't bother to complain when his father nodded along to the country stations in the truck. It was never something he thought about, though. The music coming from inside, however, couldn’t be ignored. It hit his ears like a physical slap, forcing his attention, and he couldn't help creeping inside to satisfy his curiosity.

Inside the walls, the sound was fiercer, more frenetic. It didn't sound like music at all, and yet it did, complex and domineering. Maybe he shouldn't have been so surprised to look into the living room to find Lex commanding a sharp black piano. It was gaping and huge, and Lex's head was lowered, his back was arching as his hands flew. They just fucking flew over the surface of the keys, touching everything, every crevice, every nuance. Clark blushed. He couldn't help it. These porcelain hands had such obvious skill, as they practically touched a level of speed that Clark thought only he could master. Watching Lex play this loud, pounding music with such fervor—it was a huge turn-on. There was a current in Lex, though, that crackled and ignited when he was deep in concentrating and enjoying, taking his raw pleasures with precision. Clark knew he would give anything to be that source.

Lex's music became slower, and his hands moved apart on the keys, he threw his head back, and Clark could see his eyes were closed, an expression close to ecstasy etched across his features as he hit a chord and lingered there, breathing roughly, listening to the cadence of the tones. Clark fisted his hands and swallowed hard. Of course Lex would play the piano like sex. Lex did everything like sex, so Clark was a little mollified for the hard-on that raged stronger the longer he stared. An engrossed Lex was better than porn any day, and anyway, Clark got hotter watching Lex write out his taxes than from the pornography that Pete occasionally shared.

The music went on, and Clark remained the voyeur. The more he listened, the more the noise sounded...familiar, yes. Although it appeared crazy, Clark found himself being manipulated from happy to sad to anxious, and anticipating more. Needing more. The rhythm was uncommon and always changing, but always with complex purpose. It reminded him of silk lavender shirts and...

Lex bent again over the growling monster, strength exuding from the rapid sounds, and then—

"Fuck!"

Clark blinked, tense. Lex stopped, then began playing the same part again, speeding, growing louder, more menacing—

"Fuck!"

He stopped again. Oh, Clark realized, he must have messed up. Clark leaned against the doorframe as Lex began at the same point again, only more slowly. Clark listened to the slower tempo, and he could hear the intent of each note as a literal force being drummed into his head. Perhaps it was more forceful than he expected, because before he knew it, Clark lost his balance and stumbled, his foot landing with a hard thud, exploding through the room to meet silence.

Lex whirled around. Clark froze. Lex's eyes, oh God. They were wide and furious, seething, but the intensity—it was like being struck by lightning. It was animalistic. Clark's only thought was a fleeting desperate plea to not cream his jeans. Moments passed.

Lex closed his eyes and took a long breath inward, then exhaled. It echoed. He opened his eyes. "Clark."

Clark's nerves kicked. "Lex! Uh...hi." He grinned sheepishly and looked away for a second, God, anything to break that intensity.

Lex raised an eyebrow and remained silent.

"Um, yeah," Clark continued, unable to stop, "That's a nice piano. I heard it, uh...outside, and I came in to see what you were listening to, but then you were actually doing—"

The corner of Lex's mouth curved.

Clark gulped. "Um, yeah. Yeah. The song was really...good." There, he'd finished.

The curve of Lex's mouth crept into his patented smirk. "Good?" he questioned.

Good? Clark was dumbfounded. What was he going to say? Yeah, I never got a boner from a song before? "Well," he began slowly, "It was much better than 'good.'" Dammit, Lex just continued to stare. Clark had to change tactics. "Where did you learn to play like that?"

Lex accepted the question with a nod. "I used to play much more in my youth. Piano was a love of my mother's." Lex looked away. Clark tried not to wince. "It was one of the first pleasures I took in life before my adolescence. Once I hit my teens, I neglected the piano for more...," he paused, the gleam in his eyes invitation, "...baser pleasures."

Clark steeled his spine and grinded his teeth to resist physically shivering.

Lex chuckled, more to himself than aloud. "I can't believe that I've really forgotten how exhilarating the instrument is, though."

Exhilarating—another thing Clark got to witness Lex master and wield. Piano, business, fencing, and seemingly least conspicuous, Clark's heart. Clark watched as Lex ran a hand down the piano's slick black ridges, and the keyboard grinned back at him greedily. Clark resisted the urge to stick out his tongue.

****************

     And can you believe I stopped there? Hell, I'm driving myself crazy w/ stopping there. I've got to finish some of these fics that I start. I'm the queen of unfinished fics. Meh. That's why I'm so damn new at this stuff.

Working!

2003-12-10T07:52:25Z

I don't know what to say to my readers. I've not updated my story in over four months, but here I am, the middle of December, and I'm actually working on Chapter 9 of my story. So many people have been so supportive, and I feel so bad about having it wait so long. So, here's my reward. I wonder if anyone checks this, so I'll post what I got so far of the next chapter. If you wish, happy readings! I'll be back soon to finish it.

************************

Grumpy, frustrated—that didn't even begin to describe it as Ron downed one more glass of champagne. Only one, though, he thought. It was getting way too simple to drink his entire vacation away, alone. He tried not to think what that implied about the rest of his life. "Alone and drunk with the bloody dragons," he said through clenched teeth. He didn't notice his hand tightening on the empty glass flute until it shattered in his grasp. Surprised, he watched as the blood seeped through his clenched fist numbly. It dripped onto the hardwood floor. He jarred when finally a drop of blood slashed up from the forming puddle to mark the Potter settee.

"Jesus, what the hell am I doing?" he asked aloud, and left the room swiftly to find a sink to wash his wound. In the bathroom, he ran the cold water for a few moments, and then placed his hand under the stream, and only then did he unclench his fist. His wounds weren't too deep, but they were deep enough—they surely wouldn't disappear with a healing charm before tomorrow. He shook his head, staring at his hand. The flesh beneath his rough skin was visible and pink. He sighed and glanced at the mirror, then froze, catching his own reflection.

The dark circles under his eyes were evident in the Potter powder-room lighting, more so than they'd ever been. His hair was unkempt. He was dismayed at his reflection. He reached up to touch the glass incredulously, but drew back sharply when crimson streaked from his hand across the surface, cutting his reflection in half. Eyes wide, realization finally set in. “What the hell am I doing?” he breathed again. This was madness. How ridiculous did he look, living the past two days trying to get into the trousers of one of his oldest enemies? Yes, Draco was a good guy, and yes, they could probably be good friends, but still! This is Draco Malfoy, who made his childhood miserable, who made him ashamed of his past, who…

Ron’s thoughts trailed off as he dwelled. Trying to get into the trousers of one of his oldest enemies? Where the hell had that come from? He'd not thought of Draco for, hell, years. At least not since their tirades of Hogwarts. No, that was a lie…Draco popped into his head randomly, but not so much as this, as to be assulting his lips and grabbing Draco into his lap at every chance! And when had he become so forward? This urge inside, it was nothing like the alcohol-rushed affairs he'd had back in Romania. Although alcohol was commonly involved here, he definately wasn't drunk before. It was a conscious decision to tempt him in for another go. But damned if he could understand why. He was missing something here.

He’d not felt so agitated in such a long time, he mused. So alive. Not really in all of his time studying with Hagrid, not in his time in Romania. The dragons made him happy, but there was something missing. Was it Draco? Draco who made him feel alive again? Hell, Ron was a gift to magical creatures and wizards alike, and although he came from a poor wizarding family, or was now a Romanian hermit—something just wasn't right. He'd never realized it before, because no matter what he’d been doing, it never seemed as important as Draco seemed—as Draco was—right then and there.

Ron blinked and realized he’d been staring at his disheveled reflection for a while. A blush crept up as he recalled how he’d earned the appearance. His pursuit, he reflected, however misunderstood, had been rather persistent. He glanced down again, and noticed his wound had stopped bleeding, so he wrapped it up, cleaned the mirror, and headed back to his room.

Once inside, he leaned against the door and sighed. For a moment he paused, and then he slowly opened his eyes and moved away, casting his eyes accusingly at the wooden frame. The position just felt too familiar. He retreated to the bed, casting off his shirt. His mind was still working. So I want Draco Malfoy, he thought, and not because he’s attractive…well, really attractive…fuck it, he’s delicious…but because he makes me feel things that I don’t feel with anyone else. Right? That seems substantial enough for a relationship, doesn’t it? It’s more than just sex…whether we’re fighting, glaring, conversing, or kissing, there’s an energy there, and he’s got to bloody well feel it, too. Right? So what was so bad about the pursuit? But how can it be more than sex? We've never even had sex yet! There was still something bothering him, and he couldn’t quite figure it out. He yawned, stretched, and decided that it wasn’t worth thinking about tonight. He pulled his socks and pants off and slipped into bed in his boxers. “I’ll figure it out tomorrow,” he promised himself as he dimmed the light.

Ron entered the pub, pulling his jacket closer around him. Inside, a rough fire was roaring in the center of the room. Ron felt it’s warmth as he passed by, heading for the bar. He grabbed a stool and sat down, rubbing his hands together, glancing up. He found himself looking directly into the gray mists of the blond bartender’s eyes. The bartender smiled and winked as if he knew what was on Ron’s mind. Ron looked down, bashful, feeling the contrast of his wind burned face beginning to flush. His attention, however, was stolen by a rogue voice from the door.

“Ron! Ron, my boy!” Charlie called, walked over, and grabbed the next wooden stool at the bar. He clapped Ron on the back, a brotherly show of affection and support. “How’s the new young dragon that you herded from town last night?” To the bartender, he motioned, “A pint, good lad.” He watched as the blond bartender moved to tend to his order, and said, “Sodding fool, that bartender.”

Ron opened his mouth to answer Charlie’s surprisingly caustic comments, but he froze as his eye caught something on Charlie’s sleeve. There was a black spider, round and bulbous with hairy legs. His mouth hung open as he felt an immediate stab of the old fear he’d harbored back at Hogwarts for the creatures. How foolish, he thought, I’ve worked with the creatures since then without problem. I should just brush it away. Try as he may, though, he was unable to lift his hand to lift the creature from his brother’s inner arm, or was he able to tell Charlie of the spider’s occupancy. Charlie moved on, not waiting for his brother’s answer, jumping from topic to topic. Ron could not halt his growing anxiety as the spider crawled around. He wondered in the back of his mind how Charlie couldn’t sense his distraction. Words rushed by, but the only thing that remained in Ron’s conscious was the spider.

“Oh, and did you hear about Draco Malfoy?”

The spider was forgotten. Ron’s head jerked up, and he looked his brother straight in the eye, and asked, “What about Draco Malfoy?”

Charlie scoffed. “Seems like the ferret finally some scum that could stand him for over an hour. Haven’t you looked at the Prophet lately? It’s all over the front page—Draco Malfoy finds his mate.” He moved his hands from left to right as he said the words, punctuating them with a burst of fingers. Ron stared at him, eyes wide. Charlie scoffed, and took a large gulp of his pint, tipping back his head. As he finished the drink, he wiped his mouth and eyed Ron warily. "What? What’s stolen your tongue, eh?"

Finds his mate. No, that couldn't be. Ron opened his mouth to speak, but something grabbed his attention again. The spider had jumped, and he looked down at Charlie's sleeve to find that it had grown larger and seemingly more intimidating. He stammered.

"About bloody time the bugger quits taking up the news, that's what I say," Charlie continued, ignoring Ron's distraction. "The man's bad blood, and the least I hear of him, the better. They say he's with a lad, too. A bloody fag, to boot."

Ron's eyes jerked back up to his brother's face again. What? he thought, Charlie's never been so bigoted before...hell, Charlie's slept with more men than anyone I know! And then the spider jumped again, and began crawling up Charlie's bicep, up the flannel material, and it grew and grew. Ron began to sweat. He tried to move his arms to shoo the creature, but he just wouldn't budge.

"The bugger's a menace to society!" Charlie barked, his eyes bulging. He began to breathe heavily, and with every breath, he grew taller, larger. The spider, about the size of Ron's fist, crawled onto Charlie's shoulder as Charlie seethed. Ron looked around as people began shouting and running, and suddenly, Ron was running too, out of the pub, out of the clearing, but he couldn't escape. Once he was out of the pub, he ran, but was caught by a large dragon, larger than any species he'd ever seen, and it roared and blew fire and brimstone, and Ron knew—he just knew—the dragon was Charlie.

"He's wrong! A freak! He should be killed!" Charlie roared, and Ron could see that Charlie had the blond bartender in his grasps, was crushing the poor kid, and the spider was crawling around his feet.

"Ron, help me!" The bartender called weakly before his mouth was smothered by force of the dragon.

Ron sprang into action. He cast a spell that he'd never heard before, but it sounded something like acceptance, and the dragon went down, crying terribly, cursing Draco and Ron. The spider squealed and shrunk with the defeated dragon until it was smaller than a thumb. Ron sighed as the dragon lay on the ground, and watched as the bartender ran up to him and threw his arms around him, kissing him heatedly. Surprised, Ron drew back only to find Draco's smiling eyes in front of him.

"Anywhere, Ron, where ever you go. I'll follow you anywhere," Draco whispered into the air, and then resumed the kiss. Ron heard his name over and over on Draco's lips, and he smiled as he drew back and opened his eyes.

"Well, Sleeping Beauty. Sweet dreams?" The same voice drawled as Ron smiled into gray eyes. Ron was about to reach up for another kiss when he paused for a moment...dreams?

Draco wasn't moving, and it was then Ron realized that Draco was poised above him, and further more, that he was lying down—and then it dawned on him—he'd been dreaming!

"Ah!" Ron shrieked, and Draco jerked back. Ron jumped upright and scrambled back against his bedboard, eyes showing his shock.

"Ron! What is it? What's wrong?" Draco asked, worried.

"You! Wha...hey! You! How, er, what are you doing in here?"

Draco frowned. "We're going to watch the Cannons today, so I thought I'd...uh, wake you." He paused, and Ron's eyebrow rose as he sensed that Draco was a bit unsure of his actions. "I didn't know you were going to freak out like that."

Oh. Ron digested the information with a sigh. "I don't usually freak out like that. I just had a—," and Ron shivered as the details of the dream undulated into his conscious.

"A what? A nightmare?"

"Um,...kinda. It was more a pretty blatent manifestation of my subconscious...," Ron thought aloud," so, yeah...I'm pretty fucked up."

Draco laughed. "Well, at least you've got your diagnosis, Sigmund. I can live with that. However," he said as he stood and bowed dramatically, "I cannot live with you leaving the house—with me—in those pajamas." He paused for a moment, then continued with a smirk, "Unless leaving the house isn't in your plans. Either works with me, but in both situation, you will be loosing your flannel pants."

Ron chuckled to hide his blush. "And see, I like these pants, too. I thought they looked good on me."

Draco widened his eyes and laughed. "Hell no, even I'm not taking that bait." Draco grabbed the comfortor and yanked, uncovering Ron clad only in those lucky pajama bottoms. He crossed his arms as he surveyed and said, "Are you sure you want to see the Cannon's today? I mean, I own the damn team, and, hell, I could parade them past you in tutus tomorrow afternoon..."

Ron was off the bed and heading for the shower. He brushed a kiss across Draco's lips and laughed. "Somehow, I don't think Harry'd be up to that idea." Before entering the shower, he said, "Anticipation makes it all the sweeter, Draco."

Growl. "Get in the damn shower before I hex and jump your ass."

The day was beautiful, and why shouldn't it be? Draco had practically ordered it so, and he'd be damned if something foolish like the weather was going to fuck up his perfect day with Ron. Yes, perfect, and so what if Ron could tell on the ride over that he was on edge? Today had to go successfully, and that's all there was to it, because now that Draco had found Ron, he wasn't ever letting go. Crazy, forever thoughts, though—he should keep them to himself, at least until after the first week.

The first week. Draco couldn't help grinning at that.

************************

In other news, I'm very sick right now. I've been withdrawn from school until I'm well enough to take my finals. I've just finished watching SLC Punk w/ Matthew Lilliard, and I've got this strange notion of Draco in green spikes a la Devon Sawa. Strange notion indeed.

Added TAOAS Chapters

2003-09-09T18:27:56Z

It's really much easier to post chapters when they're already finished...lol. I've posted Chapters 3 through 6 of TAOAS. In reflection, I keep thinking, "Wow, I write so differently now."

I know you're going to want to hurt me, but I've yet to begin Chapter 9 of TIOTDT, and my deadline was, what, two?...three weeks ago? I'll probably have a chance to work on it either tonight or Thursday afternoon. I started school last week, and although I love my schedule, it keeps me busy. I've 3 English courses: Creative Writing, Reading Fiction, and Reading Science Ficiton. They're all a blast--super-fun. I've also got two theater classes, one which we discuss drama, and the other where we view it--live. I get to watch professional shows for a grade. How did I get so lucky? Finally, I have Asian Philosophy, which is facinating. I get to school at 9 and stay till at least 6 every day except for Wednesdays and Fridays. On Wednesdays, I'm here until 9:30. On Fridays, I get out at about 3:15. I've got my piano lessons on Thursday at 6:30. I'm still holding down my part time job. I worked yesterday, and I work again on Friday. I am still singing and helping out with the music programs at church. I cantored last Sunday, and I cantor again this Saturday. That's pretty much my life right now, and I'm struggling for time, but when I find it, my first priority is TIOTDT. I miss it, and have a good general idea for what I want to write for the next chapter.

What I should be doing vs. What I've done

2003-08-31T07:31:22Z

The deadline for the next chapter of TIOTDT is due in about 4 and a half hours. I should be in the process of at least writing it, and hopefully posting it.

Instead, I've begun transferring my other fanfic, The Allure of a Saiyan, to my site. I've got the Table of Contents and the first two chapters up and ready to be read. I'll do the rest of it as time progresses.

TIOTDT--Posted up to Chapter 8

2003-08-27T08:26:33Z

Greetings, one and everyone. lol, too much Homestar Runner on the brain. Welp, I've finished Chapter 8 of TIOTDT, and it's posted. Read it here. I'm proud of myself again, because low and behold, it's not a month since my last update. It's not even two weeks since my last update! Whoo hoo to improvement! I've even got a bit of the next chapter in my head, so I can begin writing ASAP...tomorrow. lol.

Post-poned Update for TIOTDT

2003-08-24T09:03:01Z

Okay, it's 5am where I live, I've got to work at 11am, and I'm not finished with Chapter 8 yet, so I'm post=poning the update deadline for a day. I should have it out tomorrow. Right now, though, I need to get some sleep. I'll not dissapoint you further, though, I promise.

Layout Change and TIOTDT Update

2003-08-17T10:41:02Z

Phew, I've been busy again. I've said it once, I'll say it again. The old layout annoyed me. So now there's a new one. It's cleaner. I like it better.

Tune in to the fic section, because there is a new chapter to The Irony of the Dragon Tamer, Common Desires. Woo! I met my deadline!...kinda. I'm late by, like, six and a half hours, but hey, at least its not a month. And now I have a plot to follow, so I'm happy and ready to write.

Poetry Postings

2003-08-08T07:23:04Z

Aren't I the busy, sleepless one? There are three poems avaliable for reading on my site. They are Aurora, The Classification of the Lie, and Fated, Thin Infatuation.

TIOTDT--Posted up to Chapter 6

2003-08-08T06:46:29Z

I don't know why, but I decided to update my site this evening. Not that anyone visits it, but just the same, it was annoying me.

I've finally posted all that I have of my baby, The Irony of the Dragon Tamer, which is the fic I'm focusing on right now. I've added a feature that I think is neat-o. I've got a timer in both Chapter 6 and the Table of Contents that measures how long it will be until I post the next chapter. So now readers will know how long to wait for updates. I thought it was a useful idea. Wonder if anyone will ever see it...lol. Ah well.

Opening of the Site

2003-06-19T04:51:53Z

Today marks the opening of Rapunzel's Tower, my site for all of my literary works, be it my fanfiction, original fiction, or poetry. I really like my opening page, very much so when versus the layout for the rest of my pages. I may change it once again if it bugs me...which it is doing. But hey, the page is up. Now the fics need to be posted. I'll get on that right away.