contrariwise
Friday, 16 February 2007 11:10 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
freckles_and_doubtJust to prove that I don't actually hate romance, only Valentine's Day: Harry Potter fanfic. H/D slash fanfic, wantonly perpetrated by the wonderful ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mistful. Featuring Harry as a part-Veela love-magnet in an Auror partnership with Draco. Because it cheers me up. (And because jo needs reading material).
Drop Dead Gorgeous, Part One
Also parts 2, 3 and 4.
The Army of Reconstruction has recently, in a magnificent display of stupidity, put in my bedroom ceiling in the wrong place (i.e. a foot higher than it was, thus entirely obviating the whole point of raising the roof, which was to increase the airspace). They have also covered my study floor with random sprays of wet plaster and my printer with a thick film of dust, and are embarking on the pleasing project of digging up the kitchen floor just in time for tonight's SCA cookfest. The irritation levels are not combining well with my current Season of Dark Academic Despair, in which I curl into the foetal position in a dark corner at regular intervals, convinced that I am a worthless and futile entity incapable of coherent thought or insight. My apologies to anyone down whose unsuspecting front I have recently wept. It'll pass.
mistful. Featuring Harry as a part-Veela love-magnet in an Auror partnership with Draco. Because it cheers me up. (And because jo needs reading material).Drop Dead Gorgeous, Part One
Also parts 2, 3 and 4.
The Army of Reconstruction has recently, in a magnificent display of stupidity, put in my bedroom ceiling in the wrong place (i.e. a foot higher than it was, thus entirely obviating the whole point of raising the roof, which was to increase the airspace). They have also covered my study floor with random sprays of wet plaster and my printer with a thick film of dust, and are embarking on the pleasing project of digging up the kitchen floor just in time for tonight's SCA cookfest. The irritation levels are not combining well with my current Season of Dark Academic Despair, in which I curl into the foetal position in a dark corner at regular intervals, convinced that I am a worthless and futile entity incapable of coherent thought or insight. My apologies to anyone down whose unsuspecting front I have recently wept. It'll pass.
