An easily referenced post.

[sarea]

Icons

Does anyone know if, when your paid account expires, you can still use 50 icons??? I have a feeling the answer is "no," which is why I'm switching out all my icons so I can use a bunch of different ones in these waning days before I can't anymore.

Basketball

Now is a happy, fun time because it's March Madness baby!! I'm filling out my brackets for our work pool, and hopefully this year I'll have a better shot at making objective picks since my dear Bruins have no piece of the pie. (I still do tend to skew toward the PAC-10, though.) I haven't been following this year, so I was stunned -- happily so -- to see St. Joseph's as a No. 1 seed. Rock on, St. Joe's, it's about time.

The only other bias I have is that I want Duke to lose. I haaaaaaaaate Duke. It's just like the Yankees and the Chicago Bulls when they had their run; it's boring that they're there all the time. I have a lot of respect for Coach K, because it's great he's built such a consistent program. But I'd still rather see others win and get some new people at the top once in awhile. (It's probably a good thing I didn't go to UCLA when John Wooden was coach, or that would make me quite the hypocrite.) Plus, Duke has the extreme negative of being Dick Vitale's favorite, and I fucking can't stand Dick Vitale.

So I think I'm going with Stanford or St. Joe's this year. I still think of St. Joe's as a Cinderella program, even though it's not, really. Kentucky's always been a little shaky come tourney time; not unlike the Bruins.

Something a little different...

I wrote a vignette, which Jade looked over for me. It's been awhile since I've done one of these, but it's a genre I enjoy a lot. I'm calling it

A Bed Made for One
by Sarea Okelani

~.~
We find them in a room not much larger than a prison cell, curled together in a bed made for one. A single candle gutters in and out, casting just enough light for us to see that the room is sparsely furnished and has no windows. We aren't sure, at first, what we're seeing. Maybe we're here to learn again that there isn't always a "just in time." That in life, "just in time" is balanced all too often by "too late." It's a difficult lesson to retain; the brain can't process what the heart, deafened by hope, will not hear.

For a moment I can feel the breath in my lungs compress in fear, in horror, in regret, in relief, and I know that my companions are feeling the same thing. It's been a long journey, and seeing the familiar red-gold hair that spreads over the pillow like blood and half obscures the face of the other occupant in the bed, we know that one way or another, closure has found us tonight.

I can feel Ron shaking beside me, so I approach the bed first. It has to be me if it's not him. I'm her surrogate brother, after all; it wouldn't be right for any of the others to assume this duty. As I get closer and still don't sense movement, I start to think about how I will tell Ron, her parents, the rest of her family.

But the figures in the bed aren't dead, only sleeping.

At last I can see the blankets shift as they breathe. The girl slumbers half on the bed, half on her companion, wearing a faded pink shirt that has seen better days. I can see enough to know the other person is male; unlike Ginny, he's not clothed -- at least from the waist up. The only thing that decorates his skin is her crimson hair, which falls everywhere. His face is in shadow and partially obscured by her fiery locks. The thought runs through my mind that most would find all the hair bothersome; brush the strands away in sleep, perhaps, in an unconscious attempt for relief. But he doesn't, and hasn't.

I reach out to touch her arm gently. She makes a sound of distress as my skin makes contact with hers, and I wonder if it's the roughness of my hands that makes her recoil. She feels alive and warm under my fingertips, and I expel the breath I didn't know I was holding.

Next to me, Ron does the same.

"Ginny," I say. "Ginny, wake up, it's me, Ha--"

A hand with long, hard fingers grasps my wrist. Startled, I drop to my knees to relieve the pressure and stare wide-eyed at the other occupant of the bed, the last person in the world I expected to see. He doesn't seem to recognize me as he rasps, "Don't touch her," but his eyes are like steel.

"What are you doing here?" It's the only thing I can think of to say, though immediately after I can think of a thousand questions to ask about the people who've kept them here. The information could be significant.

His expression doesn't change, but now Ron and the others are demanding that he let me go. Only when Ginny has been hauled out of the bed by her brother does Draco Malfoy let up on my wrist. I pull away, but he doesn't seem to notice anymore.

Ron holds Ginny by the waist, and his stunned expression probably matches mine when he correctly identifies his sister's bed companion. "You," is all he says.

But Malfoy isn't looking at him; he's looking at the girl in Ron's arms.

~.~
Her body feels like a doll's next to mine, frail and malleable, the bones too prominent and poking at me through her clothes. I'm surprised she hasn't already collapsed under the weight of the relief that's been bombarded on her from all sides, but then if her presence here proves anything, it's that Ginny is stronger than she looks.

I think I feel the ghost of her hands on my back, but when I pull away her arms are at her sides. She hasn't said a word since she arrived, and even when her mother wept all over her, Ginny's eyes remained dry.

She is so thin the robes she wears hang on her like a little girl in her mother's clothes. We're all thin now, food being a carefully rationed commodity, but she is especially so. I imagine her captors had a difficult enough time keeping themselves fed, much less their prisoners.

Her skin, which has always been pale, seems nearly translucent now, the freckles faded to the point of nonexistence. It's been a long time since she's seen the sun. This and the blue-purple shadows under her eyes lend a peculiar quality she's never possessed before. In fact, Ginny looks more beautiful than I've ever seen her, but I feel so guilty for this thought, when it's the result of her captivity, that I look away.

It's only then that I notice they've brought someone else with her. The shock of seeing Draco Malfoy in our foyer has me stepping back, reaching for my wand, before the rational part of my brain realizes that Harry and the rest of the rescue team are completely at ease, removing their cloaks and talking quietly amongst themselves.

No one sees my reaction except for Malfoy and possibly Ginny, but she's looking around as if she's never seen the inside of 12 Grimmauld Place before, and he doesn't say anything. He's thin too, almost to the point of gauntness, and this should make me feel compassion. Instead I feel an unexpected anger surge in my heart. I deduce from the conversation around us that he was found with Ginny, but it doesn't mean he can be trusted. Especially not him, someone whose father is responsible for the deaths of so many people I loved, someone I never once saw show the least compassion toward another human being, someone who called me 'Mudblood' with hatred and unapologetic loathing dripping from his lips.

I hate Draco Malfoy, I realize. As much as I can hate someone as insignificant as he is, I hate him. In the grand scheme of things, he is nothing and no one. But I hate him for every spiteful comment, every moment of bullying, every cowardly act, and every bit of snobbery, pretentiousness, and malice he ever inflicted on someone else. He doesn't deserve our kindness or our trust. What he deserves is a place by his father's side, but apparently he hasn't lived up to even those expectations.

I stay with Ginny when they are led to the kitchens for a hot meal. She picks at her food under her mother's worried gaze, while Malfoy inhales his like it's his last meal on Earth. I think about warning him to eat slowly, but something keeps me quiet. He wouldn't listen to me anyway, but I know that isn't the reason I don't say anything.

Ginny watches him eat while her fork makes motions on her plate, though it's rarely lifted to her mouth. Her mother tries to engage her in conversation, but Ginny doesn't look at us. I can't decipher her expression as she watches Malfoy, but it makes me wonder what they've been through. I can't imagine being trapped in a room with him for so long, with no relief from his company except for bouts of torture from her captors. The hot tears I feel sting my eyes are for my friend, and I want her to look at me so I can offer her my sympathy, but she doesn't look away from the boy on the other side of the table.

"How long has it been?"

I'm so startled Ginny's finally spoken that I forget to answer. I haven't heard her voice in a long time, but I know it wasn't this small thing that disappeared in the air like traces of smoke. It's only when the silence stretches unnaturally long that I notice Mrs. Weasley has turned her face to the side, crying quietly so that her daughter won't see.

"Seven months," I answer finally.

Ginny doesn't seem to have noticed the pause, and creates one of her own before she murmurs, "It feels a lot longer."

I imagine it does.

Mrs. Weasley gets herself under control, and she notices how Malfoy is shoveling food into his mouth, as a stoker might shovel coal into a boiler. "Dear, you mustn't eat so quickly. Your body isn't accustomed to--"

But it's too late; Malfoy drops his fork and is sick all over the table. Out of instinct, I recoil and push my chair away. I can see out of the corner of my eye that Mrs. Weasley has done the same thing, although she recovers quickly and makes sympathetic sounds as she uses her wand to clean up the mess. Some of it is on his face and on his clothes. I am amazed that Draco Malfoy let himself be sick, and in front of an audience, no less. I can't look away, curious as to what his reaction will be. I hate myself a little for that.

He doesn't look at any of us.

I take out my wand and help Mrs. Weasley clean up, and when we're done I notice that Ginny hasn't moved a single muscle, still staring straight ahead. And she might be just a doll sitting there, except for the tears, one after the other, that roll silently down her cheeks.

~.~
During my Hogwarts days, I never had any trouble falling asleep. In fact, it was somewhat of a joke amongst my dorm mates. "If you want Weasley to shut up, just put a pillow next to his head and he'll be unconscious in a heartbeat." But this war has taken more from us than we ever expected, and now sleep eludes me most nights.

Earlier, the decision was made to put Malfoy up for the night in the small attachment next to the kitchen, where the night-duty house-elf lived when the Blacks were still in residence. After some consultation, we decided to charm the lock so it could only be opened from the outside. I wasn't the only one who thought we needed to be cautious about him, at least until we could corroborate his story. Malfoy might have had a truce with my sister while in captivity, but that was circumstance -- circumstance that he might have had a hand in manipulating. After all, he probably learned deception before he learned to walk.

I expected him to complain about the room, but he surprised me by staying silent. He's either acting docile to get us to lower our defenses, or he knows it's exactly what he deserves.

He began to undress perfunctorily, and a sound threatened to escape my throat at the sight of what I had missed before, so focused had I been on Ginny. Thin lines crisscrossed the skin of his arms, his back, his chest. They were innumerable; most were white and healed, but some were red and looked painful. They didn't seem to bother him as he drew on a pair of cotton trousers Mum had dug out from somewhere. They were too big for his thin frame, and he pulled the drawstrings tightly around his waist in an effort to make them fit. He climbed into the single bed and turned his head away.

After I had doused the candles and closed the door behind me, I ran to the nearest toilet, where I dry heaved for several minutes. It was more than seeing the evidence of what they'd done to Malfoy; it was the idea that the same marks of abuse might also adorn my sister's skin.

When we were younger, Ginny and I spent a lot of time playing together. More often than not, I was a brave and daring Auror, and I'd borrow my father's wand to use as a prop when he was immersed in a new Muggle device. Sometimes the twins would play with us, but usually it was just me and Ginny, and I preferred it that way. When it was just the two of us, I was the eldest and made the decisions.

When she complained that she wanted to be the hero once in awhile, I explained that I had to be the hero, and she had to be the person I rescued from evil dark magicians and other forms of harm, because that was the responsibility of big brothers. Ginny always capitulated at this point, and at the time I thought it was because she understood the logic of my reasoning. Now I know different.

She'd been right behind me at the time she'd been taken, or so I had thought. I've relived that moment over and over again, and saved her a thousand times. But never when it mattered.

I had once told my sister that I would protect her, because that's what I was there for. I'd been lying, but I hadn't known it then.

She had, though.

I know because of the total lack of recrimination in her eyes when we found her. I'd have given anything for her to have hit me, or cursed me, or shouted, "Ron, you promised. You promised to keep me safe and you didn't." Instead she looked at me without blame, because she had never expected me to keep that promise in the first place. The knowledge is like tiny splinters of glass in my blood, traveling in my veins and cutting me to ribbons from the inside.

It doesn't help that the waif who returned to us barely resembles the sister I'd lost. They took a girl so full of life that it bubbled out of her in run-on sentences that tripped over each other because she couldn't get them out fast enough. They took her words and took her smile and made her a specter of who she used to be, and I don't know if that girl will ever come back.

And they made a liar out of me.

I want to tell her I'm sorry, but I'm afraid the words will stick in my throat. I want to ask her what happened during the months she's been gone, but I'm afraid of the answer. I want her to ask me to do something for her, anything, but I'm afraid I won't be able to follow through. But I can hold her hand and let her know that if she needs me I'm here, and those aren't things she ever has to ask for.

Hermione's room is dark, but the light from the hallway helps me navigate. Ginny's bed is empty, and I tell myself to stay calm as I gently shake Hermione awake.

"Ron?" Her voice is groggy. "What is it?"

"I'm looking for Ginny," I whisper. "Do you know where she is?"

"Isn't she in bed?" Hermione wears sleepy confusion well. "She said she couldn't sleep, and was going to get a glass of water."

And of course, Ginny's whereabouts are no longer a mystery.

"All right," I say. "Sorry to wake you. Go back to sleep."

Concern still etches her face. "I'll help you look..."

"No, don't worry."

Hermione closes her eyes and lets out a small sigh, sleep folding her in its arms again.

Down the stairs and through the dining hall, the solid walls and thick carpeting masks my solitary journey. Here the rooms are warmer; the heat from the stoves creates a haven during chilly nights. Then my destination is upon me, and I'm not sure why I'm here. My hand is turning the knob before I can decide, and it's only when I can see the two sleepers illuminated by a single lit candle that I know.

Seeing them, I am assured that through all the dark nights, she had someone. It doesn't matter how or why he was there, not if he helped her feel for even one second less alone. And that brings me comfort.

When I left Malfoy he'd been on his back, turned to the opposite wall, but now he's on his stomach, arms outstretched, and I can see his face, unguarded in sleep. My sister drapes him like a haphazard blanket. In sleep, she looks almost like the girl I once knew, and the long tresses she once defended from our mother's shears trail over Malfoy's shoulder. Her left arm covers his, and in this light, her skin looks soft and flawless.

In this light, they aren't scarred at all.

~.~
I read once that the ancient Egyptians had fifty words for sand and the Eskimos had a hundred words for snow. I wish I had a thousand words for love, but all that comes to mind is the way you move against me while you sleep and there are no words for that. - Brian Andreas, StoryPeople

Comments

[rainpuddle13.livejournal.com]

There is NOTHING wrong with DUKE!

And St. Joe's is overrated because they play in a very weak conference - how do you think they went 27-1 yet got spanked by Xavier in the first round of their tourny?!?!?!

*pats Duke*

I'll comment on the story this evening when I'm not at work and have time to actually read it :)

[1anonymous1.livejournal.com]

If I start working soon I shall buy you 2 months account soon.

[1anonymous1.livejournal.com]

Oh, and I LOVE THAT FUCKING STORY.

*fangirls*

[sarea-okelani.livejournal.com]

Thank you!

And please, no no to the buying me any paid time. Those w/o jobs should first be generous to themselves. I really appreciate the thought. Honestly, I'll suck it up if I want it that badly.

[annibug.livejournal.com]

I believe when the account goes back to "free" status, you lose your extra icons, going back to a sad total of three.

Your writing is beautifully sad, if that makes any sense.

He doesn't seem to recognize me as he rasps, "Don't touch her," but his eyes are like steel. In one sentence, you managed to tell us everything we needed to know about their captivity.

And I love the Brian Andrea quote.

Thank you for sharing.

[hannah-kim.livejournal.com]

I hate to sound Welsh, but that was gorgeous. The imagery was heartbreaking, Ron's guilt was tangible and the style was so different from anything else I've read in ages. And it was the perfect length, like a comfort-food meal where you have the exact right amount of everything and end up feeling all squiffy and content afterwards.

[megh.livejournal.com]

That was so beautiful.

I can't think of anything else to say. Wow.

[sugarjet03.livejournal.com]

The only other bias I have is that I want Duke to lose. I haaaaaaaaate Duke. . . Plus, Duke has the extreme negative of being Dick Vitale's favorite, and I fucking can't stand Dick Vitale.

Word. Of course, the place is a certain archrival of my school, and is 10 miles down the road, so I can say that without feeling too badly. And, as I learned this weekend, Coach K looks as much as a whiny baby in real life as he does on TV. He's put together a great ball club ( I did sort of cheer for them on Saturday, while sitting in the Georgia Tech section (that's where we had our tickets, and it was a bit scary), but only because I wanted revenge for our loss on Friday), but I was insanely happy to watch Maryland beat them on Sunday.

It was funny, because the guy we were sitting next to on Saturday hates Duke, not because of Coach K, or any dynasty reason, but because he had the scoring record at his high school, until J.J. Reddick came and broke it. :-D

And Dick Vitale! I can't stand him either. When he's commentating one of our games, I prefer to mute the TV and put on Woody's radio show instead. He came to school in Janurary to do a book signing, but no one went (Dean Smith was another story :-D). He obviously does not know where he is not welcome.

So I think I'm going with Stanford or St. Joe's this year.

I'm pulling for Carolina, naturally, but I've got my bet on Stanford winning it. They're an impressive team this year.

Sorry I rambled so much! I just have some very strong feelings about Duke.

~Erin

Oh, and lovely story, by the way. Cheered me up on this gloomy day :-)

[dlgood.livejournal.com]

I was insanely happy to watch Maryland beat them on Sunday.

Me too. But then again, I'm an alumnus... But my Dukie V hate has started to fade as he shows Gary Williams more and more love.

[sarea-okelani.livejournal.com]

No apologies necessary; I enjoy rambles about college bball. <g>

The Tarheels are always a good team to watch. Good luck in any pools you might be participating in! :D

[sugarjet03.livejournal.com]

Thanks! You too :-)

[sevenfourteen.livejournal.com]

sarea...yeesh, girl, i love it...just love it...i've been craving some good fanfic and i've got it...thank you.

*mwah*

oh, and i love that quote

[mynuet.livejournal.com]

It doesn't matter how or why he was there, not if he helped her feel for even one second less alone.

Of all the lines in this fic which made my eyes fill up, this was the one that was just the ultimate. It's a beautiful story, gripping, and yeah, it's sad - the understated way you handle their actual captivity and the suffering therein makes it seem all the more terrible - but at the same time, there's a current of hope, of light that shines on in even the most hopeless of times. Very excellent story indeed.

[sydney-lynne.livejournal.com]

Like Pud, I'll have to comment on the story later, but I think I'm actually going to disagree with you for once and admit that I rather enjoy rooting for Duke, the New York Yankees, and the Chicago Bulls when they were good because rooting for a good team is fun while rooting for a bad team sucks. If you're going to spend money or time on watching sports you should watch a team that doesn't suck, which is why I only watch the playoffs of most sports now on tv. Lessons learned from watching many years of sucky sports with anguish as a adolescent--I now firmly believe that team sports are a form of mass-brainwashing to induce people to act as mobs with no minds of their own and no reason whatsoever. I'll make up my own mind, thank you very much, evil regional sportscasters.

[sarea-okelani.livejournal.com]

Boy, when we disagree, we really disagree. Which is a good thing from time to time. :)) See, the way you described following sports? I can, intellectually, understand what you mean. In a practical sense, it's no fun to follow a team that doesn't win. You won't get any argument from me there.

But in a whole other sense, it goes against everything I believe in wrt being a fan. I don't believe in being a fair-weathered fan, who's only interested in a team when it's winning. Winning is meaningless, to me, if it's not a team I care for. And I only care for teams that I have a personal stake in, which is probably why I have zero interest in professional sports (though there are other reasons). It's got nothing to do with me, so I don't know why the hell I should care.

I wouldn't want Duke alumni or anyone else who has some kind of attachment to the school to root for anyone else; I wouldn't expect them to. But when someone has no association with Duke, who only cheers Duke on because they win -- I just don't see the point.

And if I didn't have a team to cheer for, I'd probably root for the underdog. I'd bet on David, not Goliath. I sound like such a bleeding heart, yet I'd pick Slytherin over Hufflepuff any day. Hmmm. But I guess the point is, if I belonged to one of the Hogwarts houses, you can bet I'd be cheering my team on, whichever that might be, not Gryffindor just because they win a lot.

I guess we just have fundamentally different approaches to enjoying sports, but that's okay since it's nice to spark some interesting discussion (non-fandom related, even!).

Also, thank you for the feedback on the story. I know your interest in the fandom is waning, so I'm very touched you read it. *hugs*

[sydney-lynne.livejournal.com]

See, I just don't believe in suffering all sorts of anguish and torment over one's team that always chokes/loses. *Makes faces at Boston Red Sox fans, god, why must I live here?* I believe in entertainment. I want to watch two good teams play each other and play games/series. I root for overtime and seven game series because that means more entertainment for me because most of the time, I don't really even care who wins. Just show me a good product. Of course, I'm cold and bloodless and refuse to surrender to mass hysteria. Maybe that's where my Voldemort-like personality comes from. Hm.

[sarea-okelani.livejournal.com]

Hmm, it's possible we're not too different on our thinking, after all. You've just been traumatized more than I have, perhaps. <g> See, watching sports with no preference as to the outcome -- I have zero problem with that. You just like watching the game(s). And you're totally right; I'd rather watch a No. 1 battle a No. 2 than a No. 3 battle a No. 23.

But I'm not saying Duke or the Yankees or whoever else shouldn't win if they're good. I'm saying I wish someone else would be good once in awhile -- and that's not in the hands of those who win; there's nothing they can do about it. Should they be deliberately bad or throw a game? Nooooo. I want to see No. 1 battle No. 2 ... I just wish the teams representing No. 1 and No. 2 weren't the same all the damn time.

[sydney-lynne.livejournal.com]

:) Oh no, are we coming around to almost agree again? I think I've come to be mostly objective when it comes to sports. I just like watching the best teams/players play. I like the Yankees, but that doesn't mean that I can't be amused by the irony that the ancient free agents they signed over the winter are getting all creaky in spring training. Because it's just well, amusingly ironic. And while the Red Sox (okay, their fans) annoy me to no end, I still have to giggle at the commercials with Curt Schilling listening to "Boston dialect tapes" because they just crack me up. People take sports too seriously, I say. Maybe it's because I used to be obsessed with ESPN and memorized sports trivia and calculated statistics that I burned flaming out of it and now refuse to care except for out of pure entertainment value.

[akscully.livejournal.com]

Haha, wait until you get the fanart for this one. It will be heartbreaking.

[sarea-okelani.livejournal.com]

I ph34r u. But your talents cannot be denied.

[akscully.livejournal.com]

No, no they can't.

[acciopotter.livejournal.com]

This story was so beautiful. There are just no other words. Thanks for sharing.

Sandra

[ceilidh]

That was really really good. :-s Everyone's voices were so wonderful!

[sarea-okelani.livejournal.com]

You know, coming from someone who writes the Trio, I can't think of a higher compliment. Thanks, babe -- I know this isn't your usual cup of tea, so I'm thrilled you read it!

And thank you so, so much for your help earlier, w/ my spazzing. :D

[ceilidh]

Really, they were just spot-on!

>:D< anytime dear!

[apple-eyes.livejournal.com]

*claps and sniffles* I loved this story!!! So much emotion and something that makes my spine get all tingly.

[lallie.livejournal.com]

The story is absolutely beautiful. All I am going to say is thank you and wow.

[sydney-lynne.livejournal.com]

You == writer of gorgeous stories. The atmosphere for this piece is so poignant and beautiful at the same time. You don't know what's going on in Draco's or Ginny's heads, but just these little slices from the perspective of the trio tell you how much they've come to depend on each other for their very existence. *Loffs you*

[venetianglass.livejournal.com]

Um... Hi?

I stubbled here through annibug I believe. A fic recommendation, maybe?

First of all - I agree 100% about your assessment of Duke. You're exactly right.

And second... may I friend you? Because if I miss any more of your fabolous drabble...

There is so much that could be said about this story. It was so breathtakingly beautiful - and I could see it play out in my head so well. The switching perspectives... you made me care for the three characters I don't care for. I loved it, in short.

[dragonsmistress.livejournal.com]

I just found your site today and have been engrossed in it for much of the day. Such talent all around! Then, I start clicking on friends of friends of friends in lj and come across this. *sigh* More of the same. Absolutely fabulous. Right up there with the rest of your work an an exceptional standard of writing.

I loved Ron's POV on the whole thing. I could feel his anguish and shame, his self doubt, his misery. Normally, I'd say that the only thing that could have made this any better would be Ginny and Draco's points of view. However, I think it was beautifully done as it was. Not giving them a point of view added darkness and mystery that made this so perfect.

I could ramble on, but you're probably sick of this stranger that's invaded your journal, so thanks for the wonderful read!

[lifeasj.livejournal.com]

This blew me away. Again, I echo the words of everyone who has already commented - beautiful writing.

Please keep sharing!
J

[rainpuddle13.livejournal.com]

Wow is all I can really say. I loved seeing the three different perspectives - how Harry, Ron and Hermione each see what plays out before them. Out of all of them, I think Ron's was the most heartbreaking - this is his baby sister. He suffers from the guilt of not protecting her, then he has to work through is feelings about Malfoy because it's obvious that he means everything to Ginny now.

Seeing them, I am now assured that through all the dark nights, she had someone. It doesn't matter how or why he was there, not if he helped her feel for even one second less alone. And that brings me comfort.

That moment of realization, that moment of putting behind him the pettiness of childhood had tears rolling down my cheeks.

Just totally amazing - it's all I can say.

*fill in your own fangirl squeeing here*

[southern-tiger.livejournal.com]

That was the saddest happy ending ever. I loved that. It had all the basic elements of the happy ending; the trio save Ginny and Draco who then end up in each others arms but they’ll never be the same. It was perfect.

As for basketball, I like Duke for (ironically) the same reason most people hate them. Even though Duke is such a basketball powerhouse, they’re actually not all that great in most other sports. I pull for Clemson (go Tigers!) and I feel that we have a nice balance with Duke because while they kick our ass every winter in basketball (though this year nearly everyone kicked our ass in basketball), we beat the snot out of them in football every fall and that works for me. Well, that and one of my cousins is a professor at Duke, so there’s a family thing.

My one major wish for March Madness is that South Carolina gets beaten quickly and efficiently because I hate the Gamecocks. Oh how I hate them.

[xanderave.livejournal.com]

The story is beyond anything. Of the three POV, Ron's brought tears to my eyes. Reading about the scars upon Draco's body is just too heartbreaking. But the whole story is just amazing especially the emotions flying about *throws flowers of gratitude*

[fearthainn.livejournal.com]

I meant to post yesterday and couldn't think of anything to say. It was really beautiful. Everyone else seems to be saying it was a happy ending, but I guess my definition of happy is a bit different...the ending left me feeling gutted.

This is my favourite bit: I hate Draco Malfoy, I realize. As much as I can hate someone as insignificant as he is, I hate him. In the grand scheme of things, he is nothing and no one. But I hate him for every spiteful comment, every moment of bullying, every cowardly act, and every bit of snobbery, pretentiousness, and malice he ever inflicted on someone else. He doesn't deserve our kindness or our trust. What he deserves is a place by his father's side, but apparently he hasn't lived up to even those expectations.

Particularly the last sentence. The idea that Draco hasn't lived up to anyone's expectations, and is scarred and broken, and will probably never fit into the kind of world that Hermione and the rest would like to build. (And intentionally or not, has taken Ginny with him.)

Gah. It was good. I don't know what else to say. I'm going to go cry now.

[madannekidd.livejournal.com]

I love it. It was incredibly moving, and I have to agree with annibug when she said that you let everyone know just how things were between them with the line:

"Don't touch her," but his eyes are like steel.

I love.

Unfortunately, for the other matter, I have no concept whatsoever of college bball. I, unfortunately, currently reside in England and not a lot of people like Basketball. I do, but can't watch it, sigh.

[salt-rose.livejournal.com]

What a beautiful, heartbreaking story. I'm glad you wrote it :-)

Sliding in with a late review

[lissannej.livejournal.com]

Reviewing late, as always.

This whole ficlet just made me sad. War isn't a happy thing and I'm glad you didn't trivialise it. I loved Draco's protectiveness of Ginny and Ron's guilt at not being able to protect his sister. Draco and Ginny are obviously scarred physically, mentally and emotionally, and it's deftly weaved through the piece as seen by the other characters.

Excellent work, as always.

*hugs*

[violetjersey.livejournal.com]

WoW... one of the most moving D/G plots I have ever read... simple yet thought-provoking... it just proves that a great D/G love story doesn't necessarily need for them to snog or shag... it's the beauty of their love is all that's enough!

I love how you actually showed the trio's perspective on the whole scenario. I have to admit that i got a bit confused with Hermione's take -- if i hadn't seen the "Mudblood" comment, I wouldn't have known that it was her! It's a very experimental and refreshing... just proves that you are indeed a risk taker in terms of trying out different forms of fanfic writing1

Thanks Sarea for this beautiful tale! You are indeed one of the great storytellers of this fandom! It's people like you that really brings out the elegance in fanfic writing as a whole!

For that I'm truly thankful! *bows down in worship*

[asl0versgo.livejournal.com]

This was just beautiful. There aren't enough words to describe it, much like in the quote at the end of the piece. The voices were wonderfully in character, especially Ron's. I love that you didn't come right out and name each POV, instead you let the reader draw the correct conclusion based on what was written.

Excellent, excellent work. :)

[significantowl.livejournal.com]

Ohh, Sarea. I loved this, soso beautiful. My first reaction was 'guh,' my second was 'meep,' and now I think I maybe can form an actual sentence. :) Such an elegant style, and such a wonderful use of shifting narrators. Lovely.

[lovelylytton.livejournal.com]

It´s perfect. Thank you very much for writing this touching fic.