December 1

CRIME:

CSI: Gil/Warrick

Title: No Promises
Author: Willing Prey
Rating: PG
Spoiler: None
Date: December 1
Feedback: willingprey@verizon.net
Disclaimer: This is for entertainment purposes only. It is a parody, unless CBS really expects this to happen and therefore fair use.
Summery: Sometimes you accept what you have rather than what you want.
Show: CSI
Pairing: Gil/Warrick
Beta: My dear husband who did it under a great deal of duress.

NO PROMISES

Gil heard the shower start. He sipped on his coffee and turned his attention back to the breakfast he was making. He’d been right about leaving the room and making sure the duffle bag with Warwick's clothes was in the bedroom. He didn't think there'd be recriminations. But he couldn't be sure. He'd suffered through morning after regrets before. He didn't want to again.

Last night it had seemed to be a good idea and Warrick had seemed to be amicable to his advances. But it was always the morning after that told the tale. When it came to people, observation wasn't always enough. They didn't always react in the way he anticipated.

It was something he had come to expect. Another disappointment in a long string of disappointments wouldn't matter much to him, in the long run. It was only the short run he had to be concerned with. He'd lived his whole life on short term relationships. He could live a bit longer.

He put a cup of coffee on the table as Warrick wandered in, dressed as if he were ready for work. Gil wasn't surprised. The bag with his clothes in it was in case he had been called. This time of year with the holidays fast approaching there always was a third line to be called, during the holiday season it would be even busier. They come to Vegas to party, but far too often someone ended up dead. If there was trouble and the on call crew was busy, the standby people were called. It was far more likely that those on standby would end up working than not. It wasn't unusual for even the overtime rules to be waived.

Warrick sat down and took a sip. His eyes narrowed as he looked Gil over. He was silent, but the silence didn't seem to be oppressive or malevolent. As far as Gil could tell, Warrick was searching for words. Gil waited to see what he would say.

"Fried or scrambled?" Gil finally asked, more to give Warrick an opening than anything else.

"Um, anything…"

Gil looked at him expectantly.

"Scrambled, I guess." Warrick finally chose. He was talking. For Gil, for now, that was enough.

Gil served a simple breakfast of eggs, toast and bacon, watching Warrick as he ate. Observation was what Gil was best at. Coming to conclusions based on the observations he sometimes had trouble with, when it came to knowing how people would react. He had never quite deciphered the human psyche. Not even his own. Perhaps that was especially his own.

Food was eaten and the plates pushed to the center of the table. Gil refilled coffee cups and sat and waited for Warrick to speak. The silence hadn't been oppressive but it certainly had been a first. Morning afters for Gil, whether with a woman or a man had often been…loud.

"How did you know?" Warrick finally asked.

Gil cocked his head aside and considered for a moment pretending he didn't understand the question but decided against it. "I watched you." He took a sip of his coffee and considered again. "I…wasn't sure exactly. I won't call it instinct, but I observed that although you are attracted to women, every relationship you have turns out badly."

"I'm not gay." Warrick stated.

"I never said you were. I knew you were interested though." He watched Warrick wrestle with this side of himself.

"So, I should be seeing guys because I get screwed over by women." Warrick said with a little heat. "I like women." Warrick clenched the cup he was holding tightly.

"No. I like women, but…" Gil pursed his lips thinking about how he'd had this conversation before. "When I get involved with women, I lose what little brains I have."

"So, you hit for the other team?" Gil could hear the genuine confusion in Warrick's voice. "Is that why…are you interested in me, cause I've been screwed over too?

"Not quite in the way you mean. A friend of mine told me, a very straight friend of mine, a long time ago, 'I've never been screwed over so bad by a woman I turned to cock.' It made me think about myself. I finally realized that I was attracted to both men and women. About last night…I think you are too." He waited for Warrick to try to think through the situation.

Warrick sighed and ran his hand over the back of his neck. "I know what you mean. I mean, last night wasn't the first time."

Gil nodded. He expected something like that although he hadn't expected Warrick to admit it.

"So," Warrick asked. "What do you want? What is this?" He gestured with his hand between the two of them. "What does it mean?"

Gil put down his coffee cup, knowing he had been using it as a defense. "It means whatever you want it to mean. I'm your supervisor. I don't want to put you in the position of worrying about your job. If you want it to end here, it ends. Not another word will be said."

Gil meant it. He would treat Warrick exactly as he had before. There would be no recriminations, no changes in their relationship.

"And if I want more?" Warrick asked carefully.

"That will be completely up to you." Gil watched Warrick contemplate the inside of his coffee cup. "Did you know that Sara once asked me to sleep with her?" He was going to try to jerk Warrick out of his inner confusion.

"She what?" Warrick was obviously startled at the question.

Gil nodded. "She was upset by a case. She said she was waking up with nightmares, about the victim and if I was there I could tell her we did the best we could. I told her we always do the best we can. She had to learn that sometimes the best isn't enough. And I had to let her." He wondered if he was getting his point across to Warrick.

"And that means what?" Gil knew he wasn't being clear.

"What I'm trying to say is she made an offer, I refused. Now the offer may have been factious." He adjusted his glasses. "Although with Sara, sometimes I'm not so sure. I'm making an offer. You can accept or refuse. There is no pressure."

"I'm not sure I'm up to any kind of hearts and flowers relationship with a man." Warrick commented. "I'm not sure if I'm really up to any kind of relationship."

"No hearts, no flowers." Gil said. "And no promises. If you find someone you'd rather be in a relationship with than me, I won't say a thing. But that has to go both ways. If I find someone…"

Warrick nodded. "I let you go. No hearts and flowers." He nodded to himself as if answering some internal question.

Just then there was a beeping from the counter. Gil was glad that if he was going to be called in it had waited until some of the conversation had gotten over. He picked it up and read the text message. "There's a DB at the Bellagio. Do you have your kit?"

Warrick nodded. "It's out in the car. I'll check my messenger." He went into the bedroom.

Gil picked up the dishes and stacked them into the sink. Warrick came out with his duffle bag over his shoulder. "I was called too."

Gil nodded. "I'll shower and meet you there in 20 minutes."

"Okay, I'll secure the scene." Warrick headed towards the door. He paused for a moment and looked back at Gil. "No promises. I can live with that." With that he left, Gil gazing after him.

As he went to shower, he allowed himself to think about it. He had to live with no promises.

END

CRIME

Sentinel - Jim/Blair/Rafe

Author: Caliadragon
Title: Solstice Revelations
Date: December 1
Fandom: The Sentinel/Cop-Fantasy Drama
Pairing: Rafe/Jim/Blair
Rating: PG 13
Summary: At a Solstice celebration, Rafe and Jim are let in on a secret that could change both of their lives.
Disclaimer: All of the characters classified in this fic are mine if you want to play with them please ask first.
Feedback address: Caliadragon1@myself.com
Advertisement: Part of the SAC-2004 at: http://www.kardasi.com/Advent/2004/SAC-2004.htm
Note: In this universe, Blair, no longer allowed to work with Jim on the job and refused admittance to the academy due to the public blow up over his thesis, has found work away from Jim, but still lives with him. Because of this Rafe found out the truth and became Jim’s new partner and pseudo Guide while in the field. Three months after the original press conference an enterprising reporter found out the truth, because of this Blair has been given a job at a small, private college despite his dismissal from his last position. By this story, it has been over a year since the “Incident” as the boys call it. For the last six months of that, Jim and Rafe have been lovers. As of right now, they have no idea that Blair is gay or that he has fallen in love with both of them.
Beta: Edi the Wonderful

SOLSTICE REVELATIONS

Jim and Rafe sighed in regret as they watched Blair walk away from them and towards his job at Benedict’s, the private college he now worked at. However, it had been over a year since the department barred Clair from working with them it didn’t make it any easier to go to work without him. Even Simon missed Blair being at the station. They knew that Blair liked his work at the college, but they also knew that he was upset about something lately and even Rafe, who had normal senses, swore that he could smell the sadness coming from Blair.

Tonight was the Winter Solstice and they had allowed Blair to talk them into going to a cultural event being hosted near Rainier University. Neither man was sure they wanted Blair that near to his former university, but they had agreed anyway.

The only time Blair had seemed to show any excitement recently was when he was talking about the cultural ramifications of the ceremony and about the woman who had invited them to come to see it. Neither man liked the way that he spoke of the woman; both were more than a little jealous.

It was no secret between the two of them that they both desired Blair. In fact the reason they had originally started to spend time with one another outside of work was their fear of how Blair would act after all that had happened with the force and with Rainier.
The younger man had become extremely quiet and everyone, Simon included, missed the constant stream of chatter that the younger man kept up through out the day. Even Henri mentioned that he missed hearing all of the weird insights that Blair had about every day life. The team was constantly harassing Jim and Rafe to get the young man into the station, but so far Jim and Rafe had yet to succeed. As a compromise they had invited the team with them to the ceremony, and hoped that seeing the others would bring Blair out of the funk he was in.

* * *

Later that night…


Blair smiled at Genive as she walked over to greet him, an answering smile on her face. Genive Walker, the woman that Rafe and Jim were jealous of, was a tall, elegant woman. Despite the gray in her hair and her obvious age, she was a true beauty. Blair knew that she was in her late 50s, but you would never know it by looking at her. To Blair she was a vision and she was also the closest thing he would ever have to a sister. Genive embraced not only life, but also those in her life, something that matched Blair equally.

Genive was the one who had given Blair the chance at a new start with the college; she had felt that his being fired was over the top. Not to mention she loathed Chancellor Edwards and felt that the woman was a fraud. Blair was just happy to have a new job. Genive was also the one responsible for the ceremony that they were attending tonight.

The head of Anthropology wanted all of her students to experience the winter ceremony for themselves as well as have the chance to see the men that Blair had fallen in love with. Naomi had come to Genive not longer after Blair had been hired. The younger woman admitted that she was overstepping her bounds once again with her son, but she worried about him and wanted Genive to know that Blair was not a liar or the fraud that Edwards had made him out to be.

The women had become fast friends and bonded over their love of their children and the fact that they were both free spirits. Not long after Genive had taken Blair under her wing and they had also become close.

“Glad greetings Blair,” Genive said with a smile.

“Glad greetings Genive, I’d like you to meet my friends and roommates. This is Rafe and Jim, my roommates. This is Simon, Meg, Henri and Joel. Guys I’d like you to meet Genive.” The group exchanged pleasantries and Genive was amused to see the subtle relaxation that seemed to over take Rafe and Jim. So they were jealous of her? Good, that made what she had planned all the easier.

“Come, lets go get a drink and watch the festivities.” Genive said with a grin to the group. The others agreed and they followed Genive to the refreshment stand and each claimed a drink.

Genive smiled at them, but gave Blair a look. “Blair, darling do you think you could go see if Klara is ready for her performance yet?”

Blair nodded and walked away, humming slightly to himself. Once he was gone, it was Meg who spoke first. “I’m glad to see Sandy happy, I’ve missed him.” She said, almost wistful.

“Your not the only one,” Rafe said with feeling, while the others nodded in agreement.

“Well, it has to be hard for him, living with the two of you, loving you, knowing you’re together.” Genive said off handedly.

The group all gapped at her in astonishment. “Say that again,” Simon said calmly. Jim and Rafe’s relationship was no secret, everyone in the MCU knew that they were lovers and had known since Rafe moved in with him. It was the statement about Blair that shocked them.

“Blair is in love with Rafe and Jim, he has given up hope though since they became a couple. I know that he has been thinking of moving on to campus, but I’m not sure if he still plans to.” Genive said, as though this was common knowledge, a fact that she knew was not.

Jim and Rafe both shared a look that spoke volumes. Genive smiled, only Simon noticed that it was sly. He grinned; Simon had a feeling he was going to like this woman. Any further conversation was thwarted by Blair’s return. He wondered why everyone was looking at him so strangely. “Klara is ready and about to take the stage,” Blair told her cheerfully.

Genive smiled sweetly at the younger man and walked away, leaving Blair alone with his friends. Rafe and Jim maneuvered themselves so that Blair was standing in between the two of them. Simon and Meg shared a look and without a second thought grabbed Henri and Joel and walked away from the three men.

Blair was confused by their sudden departure and the fact that Jim and Rafe grabbed his arms and turned him in the opposite direction. “What’s going on?” he asked confused.

“We need to have a little chat Chief.” Jim told him calmly as the three worked their way through the crowds and finally past them, to a dimly lit gazebo. There was no one around, something that pleased the older two men.

“What do we need to talk about?” Blair asked warily. He was afraid that they were going to ask him to leave.

“We were talking to Genive and she told us you were thinking of moving out. Frankly, I don’t like the idea of that. She also told us that you were in love with us both. That I do like, especially as Jim and I are in love with you.” Rafe told him calmly.

Blair could only gape at him in stunned silence. “Huh?” he asked, not able to be more precise.

Jim grinned over the fact that the normally verbose younger man was struck silent. He decided to use this; he was sure, once in a lifetime occurrence and pulled the smaller man into a deep sensuous kiss. When they were both breathless and panting, Jim pulled away slowly, only to be replaced by an extremely aroused Rafe.

By the time that Rafe was finished kissing Blair for the first of many times, the smaller man was panting in need. “Oh Wow,” he moaned when Jim took Rafe’s place. “We need to stop, people.” Blair gasped out a few minutes later.

Jim and Rafe growled, but agreed to his words. Neither man was willing to share the sight of their lover aroused and needy to anyone else’s gaze. They both pulled away and began to straighten their clothing and Blair’s. For now they would wait and go back to the Solstice celebration. Afterwards, though, they were taking Blair home and making sure he never wanted to leave.


The End For Now

SCIENCE FICTION

Star Trek - Kirk/Spock

Title: Kiwi Canoodling
Author: Farfalla the Butterfly-Kitten
Email: blueberrysnail at yahoo dot com
Website: http://cosmicduckling.com/spirk
Fandom: Star Trek: The Original Series
Date: December 1
Pairing: Kirk/Spock
Rating: NC-17
Betas: Hypatia, Mrs Spock, and Janet
Disclaimer: *hand wave* These aren't the fuzzy dice you're looking for...
Summary: A Christmas Day canoe trip turns naughty for our galactic heroes.
Written for the 2004 Slash Advent Calendar! ^_^ w00t!


KIWI CANOODLING

canoodling-verb, old-fashioned informal. If two people canoodle, they kiss and hold each other in a sexual way.
http://www.freesearch.co.uk/dictionary/canoodling

Two months after the Khitomer peace conference, Kirk and Spock prepared for their first Christmas season on Earth in nearly a decade. With Kirk now retired and Spock at leisure while he pondered his next career move, they bowed out of the limelight and began to plan a real vacation together.

Due to Kirk's recent experiences on Rura Penthe, the two men decided to spend the holidays in the southern hemisphere. A short session with a travel computer led them to Lake Wanaka in southern New Zealand, and they immediately made their reservations.

Dr. McCoy and Mr. Scott beamed in to their hotel room at Lake Wanaka to spend Christmas Eve with them and they caroused late into the night, exchanging gifts, drinking fine ales, and reminiscing over their long and successful years as shipmates. Bones and Scotty were both professional drinkers, and when Kirk and Spock retired for the evening, their friends were still boozing in the living room of the hotel suite.

Thus it was that on the brilliant, sunny Christmas morning with a sky as blue and unblemished as a robin's egg, Scotty and McCoy were still fast asleep on the sofas when Kirk and Spock arose to greet the day. They'd obviously been too inebriated to leave the night before. Figuring they had a good few hours before their slumbering friends would awaken, the pair set off for the lake, leaving a hastily scribbled note behind them.

The woman at the canoe rental hut almost couldn't believe her eyes when she saw them approaching along the beach. Could that--really be--Captain Kirk? From the news-vids? And Captain Spock as well? Their pictures had been all over the press a few months ago--after all, they'd saved the president of the Federation and uncovered a galactic conspiracy!

Hastily she checked her reflection in the mirror. Then, satisfied that not a brown hair was out of place and that her red Pohutokawa flower, a symbol of New Zealand Christmases, was tucked safely behind her ear, she awaited them behind the counter, smiling nervously.

"We'd like to rent a canoe," said Captain Kirk.

Five minutes later, they were trudging down the beach carrying the paddles they'd picked out from the bin. The rental canoes were resting on the sand at the edge of the water. After picking one out based on the very scientific process of whatever matched Kirk's T-shirt, they pushed it most of the way into the water and carefully climbed in.

The weather was gorgeous. Birds flew from tree to tree along the lake's edges, and picturesque mountain peaks framed a flawless blue sky. Smooth paddles dipped almost silently into the shimmering water, pushing it behind with terpsichorean swirls. Kirk and Spock didn't speak much, instead choosing just to enjoy the experience.

That is, until Kirk suggested cheerfully that Spock turn around and paddle backwards for a while.

As innocently as he might have been trying to sound, Spock was immediately suspicious. He'd known Jim far too long not to be able to sense... mischief.

But, with the care and consciousness of his own center of gravity only a Vulcan can manage, Spock turned around anyway. There were reasons they'd been together so long, after all.

"You're beautiful," Kirk commented matter-of-factly, staring into those big dark eyes. He lifted his paddle and plunged it slowly into the water once again, not breaking his gaze.

"It is fortunate that you are of that opinion," said Spock demurely.

"I want breakfast."

"You have already--" Spock stopped. No way was Jim talking about food, not with that gleam in his eye. "Jim," he started again, gently. "We are in the middle of a public lake."

"So?" Kirk's eyes sparkled. "It's Christmas morning, and it's early. Nobody's here. There's nothing but trees on the shore, and we're too far away anyway. I can bend down, and the canoe will hide what I'm doing."

"It is incredibly difficult to engage in sexual intimacies in a canoe," Spock attempted. "Many centuries ago, young members of the upper class on your world were encouraged to socialize with potential mates in canoes, where a chaperone was not required because illicit activity would result in an upending of the boat."

"Spock, you think I don't know what I'm doing?" Kirk grinned. "I'll be very careful. You just relax and enjoy this excellent weather."

Only a Vulcan would have to be talked into receiving fellatio, Kirk mused as he slowly edged his rear end off the canoe seat and into the belly of the boat. The canoe rocked alarmingly, but he froze for a few seconds and let the stillness of the water calm it.

Spock watched skeptically as Kirk inched forward on the base of the boat, but, miraculously, it didn't rock all that much anymore. Apparently, Kirk did know what he was doing...

When Kirk had come near enough, Spock opened his legs and let his husband crawl between them. Kirk rubbed his face against Spock's thighs for a moment, like a cat, watching with satisfaction as a growing lump sprang into firmness beneath the Vulcan's trousers. He pounced on it with his mouth and gummed it eagerly through the fabric. Yum-um.

Time to let Mini-Spock out to enjoy the sunlight. Kirk's fingers worked quickly, and before long, he had Spock's penis out in the open. He licked and slurped the head a little bit and then opened his own fly to grasp his reaction.

Spock patted his head and ran his fingers through Kirk's wavy hair affectionately as Kirk sucked. The sun felt good on his face and shoulders, and Jim's wet, energetic mouth pulled bursts of pleasure from him with every suckle. He leaned back slightly and pushed his hips towards Kirk's hungry mouth and fondling fingers. Kirk's lower body moved as well as he squeezed and teased his own organ with his other hand.

The boat began to rock, but they were too swept up in their early-morning passion to be watchful. Kirk's busy tongue ran circles around the column of pulsing flesh protruding from Spock's fly. They were both very close to orgasm, and with each jut of their hips, the boat swayed further and further from a safely resting position.

Spock came, and his cum spilled out across Jim's lips. Aroused beyond his breaking point, Kirk came all over his own hand and fell with a shudder against Spock's lap.

O treacherous momentum!

One minute, Kirk was snuggling up against his favorite Vulcan's linen shirt, and, with a sudden splash, the next minute he was in the lake up to his chest and paddling water. Wiping droplets from his eyelashes, he sputtered, "Spock!"

"I am here." Spock was bobbing in the water beside the upturned canoe, struggling to right it.

Kirk swam over to help, feeling the water drag at his still-twitching and still exposed penis. Together, he and Spock flung the boat back over onto the water right side up, where it landed with jerking waves. Kirk held the boat steady as best he could with both arms while Spock slithered in, keeping his body flush to the structure.

Kirk remained in the water and watched Spock wring out his soaking wet shirt and pant legs. He noticed that Spock's fly was closed again. "Sorry," he said, looking up with puppy-dog eyes and a sheepish smile.

Spock's eyebrow went up. "Enjoying your swim?"

"Actually, it's not that bad in here."

"In that case, would you like to tow me in to shore? I do not find the feeling of these wet clothes at all pleasing."

"I don't know if I can manage that." Kirk looked towards the shore, then back at Spock--who was smiling that tiny quarter-smile that only a Vulcan in love can execute.

"Come back in the boat, Jim." Spock held out his hands and with GREAT care not to tip the boat again, they managed to return Kirk to the canoe.

They were sitting in the boat squeezing the water out of their clothing when it struck them. "The paddles," they cried.

"Look, there's one." Kirk pointed.

"And there is the other." It was in the other direction. Both paddles floated innocently on the surface of the water, drifting slowly away from the canoe on the ripples caused by all the commotion.

"This is my fault; I'll go after them." Kirk unbuckled his life-vest to facilitate swimming, and gingerly splashed back into the water.

He was back to the canoe with both paddles before long and threw them inside before both men began once again to slowly ease him inside. By this time, the bottom of the boat was a huge, dirty puddle of mud, lake water, and leaves. Kirk stepped through the muck towards his seat and sat down, as carefully as possible. His shoes squeaked.

"Now, then, Spock," he said when he had settled his rear. "For the shore?"

"For the shore," Spock echoed, and they began to paddle. Even though Kirk was quite embarrassed at the results of their canoodling, he found pleasure in the sight of Spock with water dripping from his bangs. He remembered one other time he had seen Spock in soaked civilian clothing--in San Francisco of the past, when he had jumped into the whale tank at the Cetacean Institute to meld with Gracie. He'd had to think fast to handle Dr. Taylor's anger, on top of hiding his pangs of desire for an at-the-time inaccessible love. Thank goodness yet another dunk in the water had reopened Spock's locked-away memories.

They reached the shore and turned their paddles in to the surprised canoe rental girl. "Did you fall in?" she asked them.

Just for fun, Kirk answered, "No," as he gave her his paddle, water dripping from every inch of his clothing. He and Spock trudged away down the beach, drenched to the bone and leaving behind a trail of mud.

"Dr. McCoy will no doubt be amused by the condition of our clothing," Spock predicted as they headed for the street.

Kirk winked. "Knowing Bones and Scotty, if we hurry, we might be able to get back and change into dry clothes before either of them wake up."

//
END

SCIENCE FICTION

Firefly: Inara/River

Author: Moonloon
Title: Serenity Solstice
Date: TBA
Fandom: Firefly
Pairing: Inara/River
Rating: R?
Disclaimer: I have no rights over the images used in this photomanipulation.
Feedback address: maryavatar at gmail.com
Advertisement: Part of the SAC-2004 at: http://www.kardasi.com/Advent/2004/SAC-2004.htm
Note: That isn't Summer Glau's nipple, It belongs to someone else entirely

SCIENCE FICTION

Firefly - Inara/Nandi

Author: Unovis
Title: Plum Blossom Song
Rating: R to NC-17
Pairing: Inara/Nandi
Summary: A Companion remembers
Show: Firefly
Date of publication: December 1
Disclaimer: Firefly characters and universe created by Joss Whedon; all rights to him and whatever evil minions own them; no profit made from this work
Feedback address: unovis@gmail.com
Advertisement: Part of the Slash Advent Calendar of 2004 at http://www.kardasi.com/Advent/2004/SAC-2004.htm Note: Related to Heart of Gold
***

PLUM BLOSSOM SONG

***

The Alliance nailed down universal dates for Christmas and New Year's and Unification Day on its official calendar. They approved another four fixed holidays for which workers expected to be paid, and then things got less and less official toward the rim. The dates for most holidays, old and new, were determined regionally and astronomically on the settled planets and moons, or arbitrarily by a ship's captain in the dark. Traders and travelers and marginal folks on the wing celebrated season festivals as they came across them. Summer, autumn, spring, lost their meaning in canned air and starlight, far between moons.

In a small scarlet book, in neatly inked numbers, Inara tracked her year according to Sihnon. Today in the city of her birth and training was the feast of the Winter Solstice, the shortest day and the longest night of the year. In their celebrations and prayers, people looked to the waning of the Yin and the waxing power of the Yang. Sacrifices were offered to ancestors and red dumplings were eaten in broth. For Companions, the day had another, bittersweet taste: it was a day to contemplate the turning of the wheel. It was the day novitiates were accepted to the Academy and girls who had passed the initial training received their first-level names. It was the day a deceased Companion's name was embroidered on her House's banner and retired.

Inara locked her shuttle door, more as a gesture than anything else. Midnight on Sihnon tonight was 0300 here, and no one was up and about. She knelt to draw a flat cypress chest from under her bed. She opened it, folding back layers of incense-scented tissue to reveal a brocade robe heavily embellished along its sleeves and hems. It was her presentation gown. It would be her burial gown, if she followed Guild tradition to the very end. She pulled it across her lap in a hiss of silk; she ran her palm along the edge of the right sleeve, to find two sets of characters embroidered in pale green. She rubbed them with her thumb, then reached up for the sewing casket she'd left on the bed. It fell, it fell open on the carpet next to her knee, spilling needles and a twisting tumble of colored thread.

Twelve years ago today, in Sihnon, sleet rattled the windows of her dorm and turned the light a dappled gray. The floor was chilly through the woven matting; the heat would be raised in an hour, when the girls who had the means to celebrate returned. Inara-to-be sat on her bed with her feet tucked under the blanket, untangling skeins of embroidery thread. Her bed, her clothing chest, her desk and chair—she'd graduated this year to a dorm with fewer girls, better furniture, and a small folding screen for privacy. The screen was a little battered. It was green cotton cloth, stretched across a frame, painted with a slightly cross-eyed deer. The Elder Sisters of her group today had given her the name Li Na, and as she worked, she turned it over in her mind. My name is Li Na; I am Beautiful Jade. She thought it sounded elegant, enduring, and cold.

The girl in the next bed was called Yun-Mei, Plum Blossom Song. Li Na was envious; the name was sensual and ephemeral and fit the smoke-eyed beauty like oil on her skin. The skein loosened, slowly, the threads separated. Green for me, Li Na sniffed. White for mourning. Pink for girlhood and spring. She hooked a loop of crimson thread with her little finger and pulled out the braided strands. Red for luck. Red for money. Red for the basic pleasures of the flesh. There was a little flourish, a trick she'd been practicing – for women clients (an advanced skill) or to ready oneself, under a client's view. It was a display of dexterity and delicacy, of tradition and skill. One-handed, with an overcast flip and lacemaker's knots, you tied together the first and second fingers of your hand. Skill in making, to achieve it; skill in use, not to break the strands, not to numb the fingers, not to let the bound flesh appear unsightly between the coils; skill also, in control, to dip the stiffened fingers into Moon Dew and stir the Lotus Heart without wetting the thread.

The knots and binding she could manage. For the rest... she looked at the cross-eyed deer. Her screen now, her right to privacy, in unscheduled hours. Her Solstice celebration. She kicked off the covers and bounced up. She adjusted the screen tightly around the bed, and opened her chest. She took out a small mirror, then wrinkled her nose. Moon Dew. Good oils were expensive and hard to come by, for novices. For general use, the teachers issued a low-grade cooking oil; after some sessions, the dorm reeked of it. There was still a bit left in a clay jar. She finished rummaging in the chest, and closed it up. She pushed back the covers, spread a small towel over the sheet, and pulled off her drawstring pants. She hesitated. Her socks were fuzzy and a childish pink, but warm. "Focus," she told herself, sternly. The socks could stay. She sat on the towel, wiggled to settle herself, and drew up her feet, heel to heel. She braced the mirror between them, cleared her throat, picked up the scarlet thread, and began the performance. She watched the graceful twist of her hand between her thighs in the mirror. Flip, bind, tie... it looked quite nice, the red against her golden fingers, the black curling nest behind them, with dark rose folds peeping through. She touched herself, delicately, admiring the sight. The picture she'd seen had shown white fingers, red thread, and a dot of glistening green on the fingertips. Damn. Where was the oil pot supposed to be? She crossed her own eyes at the deer, exasperated. Held by the client? On her knee? Certainly, not on the chest, where it sat now. If she just leaned forward, far enough—she reached, overbalanced, and her left knee screamed. Her leg popped out of position, the mirror flew off the bed, and her foot caught the edge of the screen, knocking it flat. Knocking it against the legs of her neighbor, standing at the foot of her bed.

Inara smiled, threading a needle. The first thing she had noticed about Yun-Mei was her smell. If she concentrated, she could still recall the dusky blend of earth and flowers. She could, still. The smile became something else.

"Having fun?" Yun-Mei asked.

Li Na pulled the covers over her lap, in what she hoped was a dignified sweep. Yun-Mei was taller, older, and more beautiful than Li Na feared she would ever be. Her skin was like cream, her hair was red as autumn leaves, and her eyes...she smelled good, too, even on cooking-oil days. The heat rose to Li Na's face, from the core of her being. "I'm sorry; I thought no one was here." Yun-Mei stepped closer, staring at Li Na's fingers. She stepped on the discarded pants beside the chest, and Li Na cringed, again. Yun-Mei took her hand. "You did this yourself?" At Li Na's nod, she smiled, and turned the hand over between hers. "That's very good." She smiled, and Li Na swore her scent grew stronger. Yun-Mei dropped her hand. "Do me. Do my hand, and I'll help."

"Help?" quavered Li Na, but Yun-Mei was righting the screen and pulling it close. She turned back, and from her sleeve, produced a wax-sealed jar of greenish oil, spice smelling, warming, and slick. It was a Solstice gift, she said. It cost more than the bed, Li Na knew.

"I wanted to try this on something new; it's more fun when you can share." She hopped on the foot of the bed, flipped up her skirt, and spread her knees. Li Na blushed. Yun-Mei laughed. "Tools of the trade, mei-mei. No shame. Now tie my hand."

She did. She was in this place to learn. She learned that afternoon, among other things, that she could look into the lotus of her neighbor and please herself. She pleased herself, she pleased Yun-Mei, they pleased each other. They made a scented mess of the towel, then the sheets. They warmed enough for Li Na's socks to come off (Yun-Mei thought them charming), for her feet to be scented, too, when her wrists finally cramped. The threads got disgracefully soiled, their fingers were wet to the second knuckle, the bound ones and several others, and the mirror handle and cheeks and lips as well. They were silly. They were loud. They would be put to work in the laundry the next day by their grinning Elder Sisters, who had a few rules about disrupting the peace of the dorm. They were assigned essays on decorum and thrift and respect for Guild holy days, but they took honors in certain advanced skills later that year.

Inara stitched and recalled. They were friends through the Academy, through House Medrassa, through multiple names, across space, through time. The first decorations they added to their formal robes were their apprentice names, entwined.

Companions remember, they do not mourn. Inara kept Winter in her heart and on the hem of her dress, the edges of her sleeves. Next to a name, among silver snow drifts and a Solstice sun, she added a white plum blossom with a golden heart.

-End-

FANTASY

Smallville - Clark/Lex

Author: Akinaj
Title: Det är ingen ko på isen (There's no cow on the ice)
Date: December 1st 2004
Fandom: Smallville
Pairing: Clark/Lex
Rating: PG
Summary: Established Relationship. Clark wants a Skating Party on Christmas Eve
Disclaimer: I'm a poor student, not owning a thing, except the non-existent plot of this ficlet.
Feedback address: yellow_dragon_22@yahoo.de
Advertisement: Part of the SAC-2004 at: http://www.kardasi.com/Advent/2004/SAC-2004.htm
Note: With a nod to Kira for the title, and thus the inspiration for this fic.
Beta: A big thank you to Abi for the beta.

Det är ingen ko på isen (There's No Cow On The Ice)

"So what do you want to do for Christmas this year, Lex?" Clark asked. It was late November and they were comfortably ensconced in front of the fireplace, chairs at a ninety degree angle from each other, books in their hands and feet propped up on a shared stool. The question was accompanied by a nudge to Lex's foot, to catch his attention.

"I don't know, Clark. What do you suggest? There's still a lot of time left, after all. Anything specific you would like?”

"Well, I was just thinking… you know, you’ve got that beautiful lake out back, and it's frozen all year round anyways, and I thought maybe we could have a skating party on Christmas Eve?"

"A skating party?" Lex raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, a skating party. It's not that extraordinary, you know. Invite a few friends, have them bring their skates, have baked apples and mulled wine and hot apple cider…"

It took a bit more cajoling from Clark, but in the end, Lex agreed.

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

On Christmas Eve Clark was up early. After he hurried through his chores, he sped over to the mansion to see how far along the last minute preparations were.

Surprise showed on his face when he found Lex sitting calmly at his desk, having breakfast and leisurely reading the morning paper.

“Lex? What’s going on? Why aren’t you outside? There’s so much we still need to do for tonight, set up the tables and benches, clear the ice, get the food ready…”

Lex looked serenely at Clark, who was almost hyperventilating.

“Easy, Clark. Calm down! There’s no cow on the ice. Everything is under control and going according to plan. We have more than enough time left to…”

But Clark hadn’t heard anything past ‘cow’ and ‘ice’. “There’s a cow on the ice? Where Lex? We’ll have to get it off, and oh no, what about the ice, do you think it is ruined? Is it a mutant cow? Mutant cows would go onto the ice, right? Figures that something would happen today of all days…”

Lex looked at his frantic lover and had to suppress a giggle. Clark’s hair stood up at odd angles, wide eyes darting around the room, and he was pacing agitatedly in front of the desk. When Lex didn’t react, Clark finally stopped to look at him. The quirk of his lips and relaxed stance took him by surprise, until he replayed the conversation in his head and finally noticed the ‘no’ before Lex cryptic statement.

Groaning, he sank into a chair.

“God, Lex, do you have to scare me like that?”

“Scare you, Clark? I was merely using a Swedish proverb to express the fact that everything is under control and we need not hurry.”

Clark just groaned again. Sometimes he really didn’t know if Lex was pulling his leg or genuinely unaware of what he was doing to him.

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

Of course, by evening, everything was ready and perfect, and the party turned into a huge success.

Clark had managed to get permission to stay the night, and after everyone left, the two were once again cosily ensconced in front of the fire. This time, it was Lex foot nudging Clarks on their shared stool.

“So tell me Clark, how did you like your party?”

“It was really great, Lex. Everyone had fun, the food was perfect, and Chloe even suggested making this into a new Christmas tradition. Not you paying and organising it, just the skating party itself, with everyone sharing in the preparations, jumping in with food and drinks and stuff.

“But the best thing? When Dad brought Bessie along and said even cows have a right to skate. The look on your face, Lex… priceless!” Clark giggled as he remembered the flabbergasted expression of his lover.

Lex just smiled tenderly, glad to see his lover happy. After all, how could he have known that there actually were cows on the ice in Smallville?

END

FANTASY

Hercules - male/male

Fandom: Hercules: The Legendary Journeys
Date: December 1
Author: McJude
Rating: R because of slash and personal intimacy
Warnings: None
Thanks: To everyone who encouraged me through the “tense” periods in this story.
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine. I’m not sure anyone else would claim them in the state they are in now.

WISE MEN

“Shush, there’s someone outside.” Hercules whispered.

Iolaus was not aware that he had been making much noise. The only sound he had heard recently was a series of low moans as he had worked his oiled hands methodically down Hercules’s broad back. If there had been any hint of tenseness in the big guy’s muscles, he was certainly doing his best to alleviate it but now it was back.

“I don’t hear anything.” Iolaus knew it was pointless. Once Hercules was convinced that someone was outside the mood would definitely not be able to be reestablished until he was sure that nothing human breathed within miles of the house. There was a certain intimacy in naked rubdowns that projected a message Hercules was not ready to share with the world.

“Bells? Can’t you hear the bells?”

“Bells?” Iolaus questioned.

“Listen. You can hear them.”

Iolaus cocked his head and listened carefully. There WERE definitely bells outside. This was not a sound one would expect to hear outside the house where Jason and Alcmeme had lived. Visiting sheep? That seemed unlikely. Hercules was probably right again. Damn. They both dressed quickly, unsure as to what they would find when they looked outside.

In what little light the moon produced, Iolaus could make out the form of a heavy set man leading a heavily laden donkey replete with jingling bells.

“Can you tell who it is, Herc?” As soon as he asked, he knew the answer. Double-damn.

“Salmoneous.”

“I thought he was living somewhere far to the east in a village of aging virgins.”

“From what I hear there are not many virgins left.” Herc added. “And they are in the midst of a population boom.”

“Then what’s he doing here? On Solstice Eve?”

“If I know Salmoneous, it has something to do with making money.”

* * * * *

Salmoneous did his best to ignore the fact that Hercules and Iolaus were partially dressed. Hercules seemed a little edgy. Iolaus seemed a little drunk. Still it was important that he ran this idea past Hercules. He was certain that despite the fact that the demigod had pooh-poohed most of his previous business proposals, this one would be the one that would make both of them rich and famous. He would have the money necessary for his every growing number of wives and children to live happily ever after.

He poured the companions glasses of wine and arranged a number of sweet and savory treats for them to sample. While his wives had not liked the idea of his making the journey back to Greece, they had packed the finest of food for him to eat along the way. They expressed the gratitude that only those afraid that they would die virgins could possess. He wanted to return to his new home with the gold and other riches his loving family deserved..

“What is it this time?” Hercules asked with a wrinkle in his brow. Iolaus was so taken by the date nut bread that his mouth was never empty enough for him to ask. “Although I must admit that with a source of food this good, Solstice gift baskets would not be out of the question.”

“Not Solstice. I’m proposing that we start the celebration of a new holiday.”

“New holiday?” Iolaus stopped and gasped. Crumbs flew out of his mouth and onto the table. “Why would Hercules want to get involved with a new day to celebrate the gods? There are enough of those around now.”

“Not Holy-day, Iolaus. Holiday. Something for people to celebrate . . . feast on . . . buy gifts for.”

“That is why we have Solstice,” Herc commented placing a large black olive in his mouth.

“Yea, but people have been celebrating Solstice for a long time. It’s getting tired. We need to update it. Give the people something new to buy. Something they have to have.”

“Lost me there, Sal.” Herc said.

“I’ve heard of this new holiday, from the eastern dessert tribes.”

“I’ve heard of those people. They worship one god and have rules for everything?” Hercules commented.

“Yea, they even forbid jerking-off. A certain Greek god I know con-considers that a form of worship.” Iolaus added.

Salmoneous wondered just how much Iolaus had had to drink.

“Anyway, and I’ll keep the story short for Iolaus’s sake. These people have had a recent miracle that I think we could share the celebration of with the rest of the world. It’s perfect for this dark time of year. ”

“Explain.” Herc prompted.

“Hanukkah.”

“Hana . . . what.”

“Chanukah.”

“Just a little more slowly.”

“Channukah.”

“How do you spell that, Sal?”

“Well in the original language there were only five letters --which made it a great name. Short and punchy. However, here in Greece you use Chi for the symbol of the velar fricative. . .”

* * * * * *

The scowl on Iolaus’s face was meant to ask “what ARE you doing?” or maybe “what is he talking about?” But he had a crumb from the nut bread on his nose which on Iolaus was, at least in Hercules’s opinion, terminally cute despite the look of desperation. Normally Herc could suppress his reaction to cuteness in public, but the last half-hour before Sal arrived had lowered his defenses.

“I thought you were going to be brief, Sal?” Hercules commented. Sal was taking far too long.

“Sorry, you were the one who asked about the spelling.” He was right there.

“OK, if I ask anything again, just keep talking.” He reached over and flicked the crumb off Iolaus’s nose. Iolaus smiled, a secret smile to let Herc know he realized and appreciated what he had been thinking.

“Anyway it involved a miracle involving the purification and restoration of their most holy of temples. However, they were short on holy oil and had to send for a supply from another temple. Without the holy flame, the temple would . . .

“I think I get it.” Hercules was trying to speed Sal up a bit.

“Well, the amount of oil they had normally wouldn’t last one night, but somehow it lasted eight. The holy flame burned until the new oil arrived.”

“And just how do you intend to make money on that?” A quick kick from Iolaus under the table, informed Herc that the last thing he wanted was more questions.

“The desert people have started to celebrate Hanukkah with a ceremony that involves candles. They start the first night lighting one candle, and the next night they light two, and the next night three . . . “

“How long does this go on?”

“Eight nights. The time it took for the holy oil to arrive. The time the sacred light kept burning.”

* * * * * *

“You know, you just might have something there.” Iolaus couldn’t believe that he had heard Herc say that. His friend never got involved in Sal’s money making plans. He couldn’t believe that he was encouraging him. It was difficult to imagine this silly festival that took eight days and involved large numbers of overpriced candles which Sal’s wives were probably dipping at this very moment. “We’ll go over the details in the morning.”

Iolaus managed to suppress the urge to pump his fist into the air and exhale a protracted “Yes-s-s-s-s-s.”

“I’d offer to let you stay here, but there are only two beds. I think you might be more comfortable if you bedded down in the stable. Straw is more comfortable to sleep on than the floor. Iolaus will get you some blankets.”

Two beds! Even when Jason and Alcmeme lived here, Herc and Iolaus had always slept in the same bed. If they were just going to sleep it didn’t matter that they were in the same bed. But if . . . Iolaus couldn’t believe what Hercules had said. Then he realized that Hercules must have wanted to discuss Sal’s proposal in private.

Fortunately Salmoneous was most agreeable. Maybe it was because he took a large sack of food for himself, and maybe he and the donkey had been traveling together so long . . . He had to realize that Hercules wanted to discuss the project with Iolaus, why else would he be so agreeable to sleep in a cold barn.

* * *

“It’s not going to work, Herc.” Iolaus said.

“It’s not?”

“Not a chance. We might as well go to sleep as staying up discussing it.”

“To sleep? What got into you, Iolaus?” Hercules reached over and brushed off another crumb, this one snuggled in Iolaus’s hair.

“The last thing the world needs is a commercial winter holiday.” He grabbed the last piece of nut bread from the table and headed toward Hercules’s old room. “Take the bigger bed, unless you want your old room.”

“I want . . . I want you here with me, Iolaus. Why do you think I sent Sal to sleep in the barn?”

“I thought you wanted to discuss his business proposal, and frankly I am too tired to . . .”

“To what? I was going to suggest that you continue with your killer back-rub, but if you are too tired, maybe we can figure out something where one of us can be lying down. I just hope you’re not too tired for a little . . .”

Iolaus got the idea. Boy, did he get the idea. He could make a long list of things that he was not too tired to do, as long as it did not involve discussing business plans.

“I was thinking first a little crumb removal. With my tongue.”

“Sounds good to me, Herc.”

“There are some things, Iolaus, best celebrated in private.”

* * * * *

Salmoneous lay back on his straw bed and watched the night sky. A huge bright star that he never remembered seeing before seemed to loom over the eastern horizon. Suddenly he missed his wives and children. He had been alone at Solstice many times over the years. He always dreamed about making huge amounts of money . . . but never went so far as to imagine what he would do with it, other than being happy.

He was happy now. He was living with seven wives who loved him and took the best care of him. They gave him cuddly children with chubby cheeks that all looked like him. Why had he left them at this time of year to fend for themselves just to tell Hercules about his plan for a new holiday? The money he would make selling candles would pale beneath the joy his family brought to him.

He could pack up the donkey and leave right now. He didn’t need a lot of light; he could just follow the star. He’d be home that much sooner than if he waited for morning. He had left most of his food inside the house, but Hercules and Iolaus would make good use of it. They’d probably wake up hungry -- if they slept at all. There was no reason for him to say goodbye before he left, they would understand.

When you looked at it objectively, perhaps the entire world was not ready THIS holiday. It was very closely tied to a small religious group and its purification beliefs and ceremonies. It was difficult to pronounce and impossible to spell. Still in the darkest month of the year, people needed something that would help them celebrate hope. Something you COULD commercialize.

A small kitten was asleep in the manger, he reached down and grabbed it gently and slipped it inside his cloak. His oldest daughter would love a kitten for a solstice gift even if it were a little late. She would love the fact that her father would be home with her even more.

McJude
November 12, 2004

BOOKS

Harry Potter - Harry/Snape

Author: Corgi
Title: Christmas Presents
Date: December 1st
Fandom: Harry Potter/Books
Pairing: Harry/Severus
Rating: R
Summary: Severus is out hunting for that special present for his son and receives one himself.
Disclaimer: All characters belong to J.K. Rowling. I make no money from this story and I'm doing it because she writes too slowly.
Feedback: darkcorgi@yahoo.com
Advertisement: Part of the Slash Advent Calendar 2004 at http://www.kardasi.com/Advent/2004/SAC-2004.htm
Note: This story is a sequel to my two Dusk Til Dawn stories, Don't Rock The Cradle (Wave 4) and The Joy of Parenthood (Wave 5), though it can be read as a stand alone.
Beta: Once again I bow to Magdelena for her willingness to read one of my rambling pieces. Thanks Lady!

Christmas Presents

Christmas was a few short days away and if any of the Hogwarts students were out and about on this particular day they would have met the oddest sight they'd ever seen. In the driving, frozen rain stalked a figure more at home in the cold dark halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry than the dreary, wet streets of London. Severus Snape the most hated teacher at the school was dressed in Muggle clothes and entering, of all places, a Muggle toy store. He was a man on a mission, and nothing was going to divert him from that task.

Severus stalked the aisles full of garishly coloured boxes, cringing at some of those that closely resembled some of Albus' wardrobe. He was complete lost in the store and found what he was looking for by trial and error. He was dragging one of those blasted wheeled baskets the Muggles used as they shopped and the nuisance refused to move properly as he struggled through the crowds. The aisles made no sense to him as he wandered through the store.

He was going to get this toy for Xavier if it was the last thing he'd do. This was the fifth toy store he'd been in trying to find it. Harry went to France and Germany with Ron and Hermione earlier in the month in hopes of finding the toy there. They already deduced a way of getting it to work without Muggle batteries, but they were having the damnedest time trying to find it. All this fussing because he and Harry had to take Xavier to a Muggle playground. Of course they did it so he'd learn to interact with non-magical children, but they didn't expect events to unfold the way they did.

It all started off well enough. Xavier wandered about the playground with wide eyes, while Severus and Harry trailed behind their amazed two year-old. The green-eyed boy pushed an empty swing that caught his eye and squealed with delight as it moved at his touch. Severus stood back as Harry carried Xavier over to a toddler safety swing and settled the young boy in the chair like contraption. Xavier's laughter rang throughout the park as Harry pushed the swing each time it came into range.

When the other children began arriving in the park, Harry lifted Xavier from the swing and allowed him to toddle towards the newcomers. At this point Severus was grateful for the rapid breeding of the Weasley clan as their mob of offspring gave Xavier a lot of company his age, not that Severus was looking forward to teaching them. At least Xavier would be able to interact properly with those children and not study them like the insects he found on a regular basis in the dungeons. Severus watched with a smile as Xavier walked to one group of toddlers to watch before trying to join in. At least Xavier wouldn't lack the social skills that Severus did at his age. After a while Xavier became bored with whatever nameless game the group was playing and he raced over to Severus and gave his leg a hug before treating Harry with the same. A blonde boy sitting off by himself caught Xavier's attention and their son trotted over to the boy. Severus and Harry moved closer to their son's location and settled on a bench and watched as he sat next to the other boy. The other' boy's mother sat on a bench caddy corner to theirs. She smiled and waved to them before turning her attention back to her son.

The little boy had a battery operated bauble that Hermione Weasley called a developmental toy. These toys supposedly had settings that could be changed as the child got older to help the boy or girl do more complicated tasks. Severus didn't see the appeal in those toys since all wizard made toys did that without any intervention from the parents, but Xavier found the bauble to be the greatest thing since chocolate biscuits. As the two played Severus heard his son chant, 'push the button' over and over to his companion and the blonde replied with 'you push'. Severus and Harry laughed as the two boys took turns with the toy. One thing Severus was glad of was the way they managed to keep Xavier from being a spoiled brat. The boy, like every child, wanted practically everything in sight and made no bones about letting them know that he wanted this, that and the other thing. Instead of giving in to the boy's tantrums they would note what he was demanding and if he still griped about not getting it when the next holiday gifts were exchanged or if he was being particularly good during an extended period, then they would get it for him. For the most part it worked rather well, though they did have stumbling blocks. The biggest one of all went by the name of Albus, who after all was just a big child himself these days. He'd fold simply because he wanted to play with it too. Minerva at least asked if she could purchase something on the afternoons she took him out to give them some time alone, thankfully Xavier got over his stage of only wanting Molly to take care of him, mostly because she wouldn't give into pleas for toys or candy. After all she had tons of experience with children and knew not to give in. Thankfully despite Albus' lack of will power when it came to Xavier, they managed to avoid raising another Draco Malfoy, much to the relief of both Severus and Harry.

Xavier was having loads of fun playing with his new friend and after a while the boy's mother came over to talk. Both boys squealed in glee as they managed to make the toy do something different.

"Hi, my name is Marie and my son's name is Michael. I was wondering if you bring your son here often." She said with an uncertain tone, most likely wondering which man was the boy's biological father. Severus held back a snort of amusement at the thought of what her reaction would be if she was told that they both were.

"This is our first time here at this park." Harry responded. "I'm Harry and this is Severus. Our boy is Xavier."

"Pleased to meet you, Harry, Severus." Marie said while shaking their hands. "The reason I'm asking is because my son has difficulty making friends and it's mostly my mother-in-law's fault. She's got some fool idea that he's better than everyone else. Why I haven't a clue? If you come here on a regular basis I'd like to arrange to meet you here. I can arrange my job schedule to match if you do."

"I teach in Scotland during the school year, but perhaps we can make arrangements for a couple of Saturdays a month." Severus replied with a thoughtful look. There were things Muggles can get that wizards just can't. Having a real friend in the Muggle world would be a great advantage for Xavier in the long run. "Would that be reasonable, Harry?"

"I think it would be great. Severus has to be at work the last two weeks of August. How about the second Saturday of September, say around ten am?" Harry responded after a moment's thought.

"That would be terrific." Marie said, and she would have said more, but they were interrupted by a high-pitched wail.

"You! You freak! Get away from my Mikey-wikey! You're not good enough to be playing with my grandson. And keep you're filthy paws off his toys. Boys like you don't deserve expensive toys."

Severus stared in horror at the woman and a few moments later recognition sank in. It was Petunia Dursley, Harry's blasted Aunt. How Severus wanted to strangle her, but before he could take a step towards her she turned around and laid eyes on Harry, causing another bout of high pitched yelling to issue forth.

"You! Can't you just go away, you little freak. Finally we get rid of you and you keep turning up like a bad penny. How dare you pollute my grandson?" She shrilled and Harry just looked at her as if she were mad, which she probably was.

"Mother! Enough!" Marie snapped. "You have no right to determine who Michael can and can't be friends with! I've had enough of your meddling! If you don't stop I'll be forced to get someone else to sit with him while I’m working."

"You can't be serious? You'd pollute him with their kind?" The older woman spat and Harry grasped Severus' arm to prevent him from drawing his wand and hexing the woman right then and there. Harry wasn't having much luck holding him back, but Xavier managed to stop him by demanding to be picked up and comforted.

"Their kind?" Marie questioned and then she went pale and turned to Harry. She looked closely at his face and noticed the scar on his forehead. "My God, you're Harry Potter."

"My sister's little trouble maker. Come Mikey. Let's get some ice cream. You need building up, you're just wasting away."

"I'm so sorry. Now you know why Michael hasn't any playmates."

"Well see you on the second Saturday of September as we agreed." Severus told her as she was turning to leave. "If anything it will please me to no end to drive the old nag mad."

"That it will, if I don't kill her soon. If anything changes I'll owl you. I have relatives that are wizards and witches. One of them will send a note for me. Thanks." Marie smiled and turned away, determination evident as she strode to where he mother-in-law and son were waiting for her.

As they promised they met at the playground on a regular basis though Xavier wouldn't touch the toy. Once being told not to touch something he never would again. Something he learned quickly because of Severus' occupation. He would look longingly at the toy, however which is what led to Severus running around every toy store in Muggle London today.

Severus brought his attention out of his thoughts and resumed his search for the elusive 'Learning Desk'. More determined than ever to find the toy, especially since it would stick in the Dursley hag's throat that Xavier had is own expensive toy. As he wandered around the store searching for some sign of the electronic gadget, he heard a crowd murmuring in annoyance and he made his way over in hopes of finding out some information. What he found wasn't what he was hoping for. The store manager stood on a crate addressing the crowd of shoppers surrounding him. It boiled down to the fact that they didn't have any of the 'Learning Desk' and several other 'hot toys'. Even worse was the fact that they weren't able to guarantee if there were going to be more arriving before Christmas. Apparently the demands for the toys in question were so great that the manufacturers weren't able to keep up, since they weren't expecting them to be so popular.

Severus sighed and pulled out the small black notebook that he and Harry took with them whenever they went out with Xavier. Turning to the pages filled with Muggle toys that Xavier wanted he picked out two or three that the little monster still wanted and hunted them down. On a whim he picked out a couple of things for Michael that he thought the little boy would like and would annoy the living daylights out of his Michael's grandmother. He paid for the items and made his way back to Hogwarts. Luck was on his side when he arrived home. Xavier was already asleep in bed and Harry was waiting for him.

"I guess you weren't successful?" Harry asked as he helped relieve Severus of his burden.

"Not what so ever. The toy is so damn popular that the company can't make enough to keep up with the demand. The last store I went to announced that there may not be any available until after Christmas."

"Damn."

"Indeed."

"Why don't you head to the bedroom and I'll bring you a snifter of brandy?" Harry told him and Severus noted that look in his eyes. He didn't waste time answering his husband.

Harry walked into the bedroom with the brandy in hand as Severus was getting ready to slip his nightshirt over his head. Harry plucked the garment out of his hand and pushed him onto their bed, before handing the brandy to Severus. Severus gave his husband a curious look, which Harry interpreted correctly.

"Don't you think you've earned a little reward for slogging through Muggle London for the sake of our son?" Harry gave him a mischievous smile before working his way down Severus' body.

Harry tortured him with fingers, lips, teeth and tongue, sending Severus squirming all over the bed. Frustrated with need and with the fact he kept spilling his brandy; Severus set the glass down and pulled Harry up by his arms. He claimed Harry's mouth in a possessive kiss, making sure to leave not one part unexplored. He flipped them over to pin Harry down and took advantage of his longer reach to search through the night stand for the lube. He snarled when he didn't locate the jar. He was ready to bite Harry's head off when the younger man giggled. Fortunately he restrained himself since Harry had the heavy glass jar in his hand and he didn't wish to have it smashed against his head. He glared at his husband as he took the jar from him and quickly opened it. He quickly worked the lube onto his fingers and hurriedly began preparing Harry. They still had to work quickly since they never knew when Xavier would wake up. Soon enough the only sounds that could be heard were the hoarse sounds of their breathing, breathy moans, hissing gasps and the dull slapping of skin against skin. As they made love their magic flared between them, heightening their pleasure. Much too soon for either man they climaxed and allowed sleep to embrace them.

Christmas arrived and the Great Hall was a chaotic scene. Children ran haphazardly though the room while waiting patiently for their parents to finish breakfast. The majority of the mob of children possessed red hair and ranged from the age of four to 9 months of age. The only children that didn't fit the pattern were the four students staying at the school for the holiday and Xavier and mostly because none of the five had red hair. Xavier sat on Albus' lap bouncing with excitement and eyeing the mound of presents under the huge tree Hagrid and Filius set up in the middle of the hall last night. Gold and silver ornaments hung from the branches and fairies flittered wildly around the tree using their magic to change the light that naturally surrounded them into different colours. Soon enough the adults were finished eating and started gathering the children around the tree, but it obviously wasn't fast enough for the kids. Instead the adults were all forcibly dragged to the tree by the little ones and shoved into chairs.

Once the children were settled, Albus went to the tree and started to divvy out the presents nestled beneath the branches. Once the presents were set in front of their recipients, the children were given permission to tear into their piles. Paper flew everywhere and squeals of delight from the youngest children bounced off the stone walls of the Hall. Eventually everything settled down and the children made the rounds to thank those who gave them gifts before settling down to play with their new acquisitions, or at least that's what the adults thought. Severus observed with no little disbelief that all Xavier played with at that moment was the scraps of wrapping paper and the boxes his toys came in. Severus stood up and walked to the nearest wall and began to bang his head against it. Several people noticed his action and asked what was wrong, but Bill Weasley was the one to give voice to his problem.

"How many hundreds of galleons did we all shell out for these kids? How much aggravation we went through to find the toys they wanted? All they're playing with are the boxes and shredded paper!" Laughter followed Bill's rant as the rest of the adults watched the kids play dragon using the wrapping paper as wings.

The sound of an owl's call stopped the ringing laughter of the adults. The bird headed straight for Harry with a small package and a letter tied to its leg. Harry cautiously removed the note and package after checking for traps and Severus grabbed a sausage from the nearest plate to give to the snow encrusted owl. Harry opened the note and Severus read over his shoulder.

Dear Harry and Severus,

Happy Christmas to you both. I hope this arrived in time for Christmas morning. The owl office assured me that the owl that was going to carry this would be there Christmas morning barring extremely poor weather.

I know you must be gaping in disbelief that I'm writing to you, especially since I never gave you a chance when we were younger. Things for me are much different now then they were while you were living at Privet Drive with us. I finally found out exactly what you meant to the world you spent most of the year with. Dad died a year and a half ago and I grew up a lot as a result. As you already know I'm married and have a son the same age as yours. I was surprised when Marie told me she met you in the park over the summer and that your boy and our Michael were friends; a fact which brings me to the reason why I'm writing.

I know it's rather late in the game to apologize for being a bastard to you while we were growing up, but I feel I must. After my dad died I realized how wrong he was, and I was, concerning you. When I met Marie I really learned that wizards weren't really any different from us, with exception of the ability to do some extraordinary things, especially when she informed me of how many witches and wizards were in her family. In fact, my youngest brother-in-law is in Hogwarts right now. I believe he's in his third year there. His name is Joseph McMillian and I think he's in the same house you were in, Harry. He's got red and gold stuff all over his room and it looks similar to what I'd seen in your school trunk.

I'm truly sorry for the way I've treated you and I'm hoping that, if you'd like, we can start over and become friends. Especially since our boys have beaten us to the punch. Perhaps you and Severus (I can't believe you're married to a guy. You've got to tell me that story, preferably with Mum here) could come visit for tea before school starts up again.

I heard about the incident with Mum and how much your son loved the 'Learning Desk' Michael has. Thanks to my wife's sister-in-law I have a job with the company that makes them. I hope your boy enjoys the one I've sent.

Hope to hear from you soon,
Dudley and Marie

P.S. Thank you for the thoughtful gifts for Michael. Mum thinks they're horrid, which means their perfect.
D & M.
"Well that is a surprise." Severus stated as he finished the letter. He drew his wand and enlarged the package until it was the size of the toy he and Harry spent fruitless hours searching for. "Xavier, you've received another present. Come and open it."

Xavier opened the brightly wrapped gift and his eyes lit up when he saw what it was. The light dimmed as he remembered what Harry's Aunt told him.

"That one is yours and you can play with it whenever you want. It's from Michael and his parents." Severus told his son and was rewarded with a brilliant smile. "Daddy and I have to charm it so it works here, but you'll have to wait till later." Xavier pouted, but was quickly distracted as Charlie Weasley began swinging each child through the air so they could 'fly'.

Harry got up to give the now drenched owl another sausage. As he walked towards the table, Severus noticed him sway and he rushed over to steady him.

"Harry what's wrong?" Severus asked quietly, but it wasn't quiet enough. Albus, Poppy and Minerva heard him and came rushing over.

"Harry, spill it. What's bothering you?" Poppy ordered as she pulled her wand from her pocket and began scanning him.

"I just feel a little off. I'm not nauseous or anything. It doesn't occur regularly enough to bother me."

"How long has this been happening?" Poppy asked as she began another set of scans. By this time Molly and Arthur noticed what was going on and joined the group.

"Since Severus' last foray into London."

As Poppy did one final scan on Harry both Arthur and Molly began to clap in joy as they read the results over her shoulder. Poppy smiled at them both when she completed the scan. Xavier noticed and wrapped himself around Harry's leg as if to ward the medi-witch away from his daddy. He was no stranger to the hospital wing, much like both his fathers.

"Well, I must say that I have some good news for you both."

"Is daddy sick?" Xavier asked fretfully, misinterpreting Poppy's tone of voice.

"No your daddy's not sick. He's just got one more Christmas present to give." Poppy answered with a smile.

"What is it?" Xavier asked, bouncing in excitement as his mood changed as fast as only a child can manage.

"You're going to get a little brother or sister, but they won't be here for a while yet."

"Severus, did she just say…." Harry trailed off in disbelief.

"I do believe she did." Severus smirked at his stunned husband. "Here we go again."

*fin*

BOOKS

Harry Potter - Harry/Snape

Author: Parseltongue
Title: I Don’t ‘Do’ Christmas!
Date: December 1
Rating: NC17+
Universe: Harry Potter
Pairing: Harry /Severus
Warning: Snarky Snape, then sappy Snape. Male Pregnancy.
Summary: Snape finally brings Harry to his ancestral home. I wanted to write fluff and sap but Severus has a conscience and had to have his say. It’s not all Bah! Humbug! This is AU and I subscribe to the Sexy Snape version of our beloved Potions Master. He’s a bastard to Harry because he’s playing a role and once You-Know-Who is dead he becomes Harry’s snuggle-bunny. (The doctor tells me the little white pills will help me to see the world in a more realistic way. I like my version of it much better.) Harry is over 18. He’s legal.
Beta: Janus69. With many thanks for a quick job!
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Harry Potter, Severus Snape, etc. They belong to JK Rowling and to whomever she sold the rights. I am making no money from this. It is a piece of fan fiction and as such is written for pleasure – mine and anyone else who cares to read it.
Author’s Notes: Any similarities between this story and another are coincidental and I apologise in advance to any other author already published if my work even remotely resembles theirs.
Advertisement: Part of the SAC-2004 at: http://www.kardasi.com/Advent/2004/SAC-2004.htm

I DON'T DO CHRISTMAS!

I don’t ‘do’ happiness and sap! In public! That’s the Muggle way and I despise them. Prime examples are the hulking tubs of lard known as the Dursleys. Their shameless, utter greed and gluttony makes my wand hand itch!

A small bunch of holly should not have my mate grinning like a loon. Casual generosity by Filius should not engender unshed tears. Such a small, insignificant token and yet they have caused my partner to become maudlin.

I own I’ve never seen the point in giving lip service to a custom brought about by a god I’ve no belief in. The Mass of Christ or Christ’s Mass is virtually ignored around the commercialism of the Muggle world.

My customs belong to the time of Merlin and what the Muggles term Druids. My celebration is called Mid-Winter by those idiots. Pagan they label me, as if their god is the only one! Wretched fools! Is their way so much better? I know it is not! The shiny, raucous customs they adhere to are all hollow and false. And what of those without homes, loved ones, food and shelter? Do they care? Those with their tables groaning with over abundance, do they share? Scraps, like kings of old would throw to beggars at the one time of the year. Wretched lot!

He approaches, the bunch of holly pinned to his jumper, his eyes suspiciously shiny, the odd wet, spiked eyelash the dead giveaway of the tears he couldn’t hide. I shall of course display utter ignorance.

“Sev!”

His joyful carol of my name does strange things to the heart I’ve sworn was carved from my body with the imprint of the Dark Lord.

I sigh and straighten, my trademark scowl in full snarl for those few remaining students that are loitering in the Great Hall.

“You’ve finished?”

I incline my head and he stops and bites the full bottom lip I wish to nibble upon.

“I was not sure…”

My scowl deepens as he begins to look uncertain. I will not have him burdened further and rend my reputation without thought.

“Harry all is in readiness. “

And I hold out my hand.

“Will you join me?”

He doesn’t hesitate nor turn his head to acknowledge those left behind him. He steps to me and nods.

“Follow you anywhere, Sev.”

The hollow in my chest flips and heat sparks where cold and ice have lain for more years than I care to remember.

“Where is your winter cloak?”

Harry flushes and looks to the floor.

“I haven’t had time to replace it.”

His old one was rendered a pile of ash by the late but never lamented Dark Lord.

“Then will you share mine, Harry?”

He nods.

I step forward and wrap my heavy woollen cloak about us both and shiver as the lithe well-muscled form rests against mine. He sighs and leans against me.

I look to the Headmaster and gather the forces of Hogwarts to me. Albus nods and I bend the wards with his and the castle’s assistance and approval. I hear the beginnings of gasps as we leave.



We finish our journey at the gates to Snape Manor and Harry gasps, his breath fogging in the chilled air. I feel the bite of the frigid weather as it seeps through the gap of the cloak and reach out to touch the intricately wrought metal. The gates warm briefly to my touch and open, silently. Harry is a warm constant along my body.

“Be welcome to Snape Manor, Harry.”

He places a quick kiss to my cheek.

I mutter a warming charm and allow the cloak to gape a little more as I draw him to my side. We walk side by side up the path to the huge oaken door guarding the entrance to my house. It may become a home.

I place my hand on the curved serpent in the centre of the oaken door and it, recognising a true heir of the blood allows the door to open. We step into an entranceway the size of a common room and I draw the cloak from our shoulders. Fenlock appears and bows.

“Welcome, Master Snape and guest.”

“Fenlock, this is Harry Potter-Snape. He is my mate.”

Fenlock’s eyes widen and his ears twitch, but he has been around Snapes too long to behave in an unseeming manner and simply bows till the tips of his ears touch the floor.

“Greetings Master Harry Potter-Snape.”

“Greetings, Fenlock.”

I choose to ignore the gasp coming from my retainer as he is acknowledged by THE Boy-Who-Killed-Voldemort and drape the cloak over my arm. Fenlock will come to his senses eventually.

I know the moment he does, for he gives a low moan and hurries to my side. He reaches for the cloak, his head lowered in shame for being caught up, duties momentarily forgotten.

“Fenlock.”

“Master?”

“Is all in readiness?”

“Yes, master.”

”Thank you.”

Fenlock flushes to his ear tips. Harry is looking around, slowly turning as he takes in the foyer. I, too, look at it. The elves have maintained the ancestral holdings of the Snape family as they were commanded but I do not remember it being quite as wondrous as this. The slate floor almost … shines. The silver trimmings around the mirrors and picture frames do. Many of the occupants in those frames are openly ogling Harry and I sneer at their interest. None have greeted me as master of the house and will not for they will probably never forgive me for the mark I once bore, gone now thanks to the raven-haired man avidly cataloguing the room.

The height of winter, yet here are glorious ruby-red poinsettia plants in deep green tubs at the foot of the marble staircase. The deep green runner covering the lethal steps is a necessity to stop the chill numbing the feet and the prevention of broken bones from slips and slides. Candles made from golden beeswax sprout from silver candelabra of interwoven serpents and glow in clusters high on the walls, the sweet scent teasing my senses. A spill of orange blossom from the conservatory, forced into flowering for just this occasion, froths over a large bowl on the entrance table. Wreaths of holly, red clusters of berries peeking amid the prickly leaves, are garlanded along both sides of the staircase and the railings of the first floor. Evergreen boughs are woven between the newel posts of the staircase.

A flutter of wings and Harry is transfixed as the flock of gold-crested wrens swirl around the ivy growing up the left wall. The birds separate to their chosen nesting spots and I smile. If the wrens have returned for Mid-Winter then the manor is accepting of me as master.

Harry turns and smiles. I have missed the radiance of it more than I care to comment upon.

“Wrens, Sev? How?”

I shrug.

“They have always come from the conservatory at Mid-Winter to nest among the ivy till spring and then are gone again.”

“Always?”

“As far as I remember, yes.”

He comes to me and slips his hands around my waist and looks me in the eye.

“You must have missed your home sorely, Sev.”

I nod.

“My penance for foolish indiscretions of my youth.”

He nods.

“You’ve punished yourself long enough.”

I raise an eyebrow.

“Indeed?”

He nods again.

“Yes.”

I lean forward and place a small kiss on the tip of his nose and he … chuckles. The sound lightens my mood and I let go some of my reserve.

“Very well. “

He leans against me and I cradle him against me, happily.

“Thank you.”

“For?”

“For sharing with me.”

“You are welcome my love.”

I ease his lean length away from me and tuck him into my side. He glances at me an eyebrow raised in question.

“It is time to light the Yule Candle and Log.”

I step toward the door to my left and at my gesture it opens. We walk into the room together and Harry gasps at the opulence. I find it … almost distasteful. I have become used to austerity and the lack of clutter. De-cluttering will have to wait until the New Year when Harry shall help me. Heavy furniture covered in thick brocade with the ivy leaf motif is scattered throughout. Lighted candles soften the oppressive nature of the room and I walk towards the huge fireplace. In it rests the Yule Log. The evergreen wreaths I wove about it are still fresh and the libations of wine, cider, ale and corn are set ready to be cast upon it. A long taper rests on the small table to one side. I check that the Yule Candle is ready. It stands tall and thick as my wrist in the silver candlestick by the one un-curtained window. At the side of the candlestick hangs the tongs with which I shall extinguish it; for to blow it out will bring bad luck all year and I have had my fill of it for my lifetime and beyond.

Harry stands by the fireplace his arms wrapped around himself and I am reminded again that he has no thick cloak to keep him warm.

“Harry?”

He turns to smiles and me.

“Yes?”

“Will you stand by me whilst I light the Yule Candle and Log?”

“Always.”

Warmth spreads through my and coils tight in my belly. I walk towards the candle and gather the taper and flint as I go. Harry watches as I use the flint to light the taper.

“Be welcome in our house, Harry.”

And with that I light the green candle. It flares bright and the wick catches immediately, always a good sign.

“Blessed be.”

“Blessed be.”

We look at the candle for a few moments longer.

“How long will it burn, Sev?”

“For the duration of Yule. What remains will be kept for the following year and with it I, as the head of the household, shall light next year’s candle.”

“A tradition of our own?”

“An old and true one, Harry.”

“Good.”

I held out my hand he takes it before coming to stand by my side.

“I’ve never been part of any traditions before coming to Hogwarts.”

I lean forward and claim his sweet lips, nibbling on his bottom one before trapping it between my teeth and pulling gently. He moans and pants.

“We shall make our own.”

“I’d like that.”

I step back and drawing him after me walk to the fireplace and the huge oak log filling it. Reluctantly I release his hand and kneel before the table set with libations. Harry kneels beside me and I take the opportunity for another of his addictive kisses. His kisses are to be savoured and I do. When we draw apart we are both breathless.

“Tell me of the Yule Log please, Sev. I’m woefully ignorant of my culture and traditions.”

I nod.

“Yes, you are, but for the purposes of the prophecy you had to be. Knowledge of much of wizarding culture and traditions would have hampered you. You demanded power work for you when lesser wizards would have passed the knowledge by simply because they had ‘learned’ it would not work for them. You had no constraints, luckily for the rest of us.”

“So, basically, you’re saying it was a good thing I was an ignorant brat?”

I nod once more.

“As long as you’re my ignorant brat.”

Harry smiles.

“Yours and no-one else’s,” he avows. “Now, tell me about the Log.”

“My demanding brat.”

He snickers at that and pokes me in the ribs. I allow the liberty with my person and look to the Log.

“The oak tree was venerated by the Druids and the Yule Log was to symbolically bring the blessings of the sun god into the house. It is the largest log that could be found to fit into the hearth and it is never cut. It is wreathed in evergreens and hauled to the house by oxen if it is too large to be manhandled. It is kindled with a section of the prior year’s Log. Libations of wine, cider, ale and sometimes corn are poured over it. It burns during Yule and it is bad luck if it goes out on Yule day.”

I gesture to the huge Log in the fireplace.

“This is our first Log as a family. We will keep part of it for next year.”

I reach for the wine and as I say the words taught me by my father, pour the libation over the Log. I follow it in swift succession with the cider and ale. Last of all I cast the corn knowing full well it will explode once heated. The fireguard shall trap the worst of it.

I sit back on my heels and reach for the taper. Harry hands me the flint for no wizarding magic shall disturb this ancient rite. I light the taper and set it to the bed of kindling and dried pine cones nestling around the Log, wood that will guarantee a goodly flame to catch and light the wood of the Log. I watch as flames flicker and lick around the wood and let go the breath I’ve been holding as the kindling flares into life tasting the pines cones and the edge of the Log where the wine had flowed. I place the fireguard in front of the fire mindful of exploding corn kernels.

A quick kiss heats my left cheek and I turn to Harry. His eyes are alight. He looks delectable. I reach out and swing the enamelled pot hanging by the side of the fire over the flames and reach for the small wooden box left on the table. I open the lid and Harry sighs.

“Mmmm.”

I nod. Spices – nutmeg, cloves and cinnamon invade our nostrils and I tip the contents into the pot. It lands with a soft plop.

“Mulled wine for later.”

“It smells delicious, Sev.”

“It tastes even better.”

I rise to my feet and hold out a hand. Harry takes and I pull him to his feet.

“Will you break bread with me, Harry?”

He nods and darts in for a quick kiss. I reach for his hand once more and tangle his fingers in mine and lead him to the small table set to one side of the hearth. I smell caraway rolls, oranges and rosemary among others.

Fenlock has set places for two. The finest crystal sparkles in the light. Crisp linen napkins rest by gilt edged plates and the serviette holders are of carved holly, the leaves and berries carved from the very wood itself. I wonder if Harry has noticed the care taken tonight.

He stops, looks at the table and looks to me and swallows hard.

“Sev…”

He gestures at the table.

“Magnificent.”

I smile. He has. I incline my head.

“I wanted your first Mid-Winter celebration in the manor to be memorable.”

The sparkling green eyes and cheeky grin of my imp warn me. He tries, unsuccessfully mind, to be more decorous and fails miserably. He leans forward and I shiver as his breath caresses the outer shell of my ear.

“I can promise that it will be memorable, Sev.”

He draws back, reaching into the pocket of his trousers. He licks his lips as he draws the object free of the constricting cloth and then chews his bottom lip. Whatever he has planned he is unsure of my reaction. I wait. The object is concealed within his hand as he looks up at me and slowly opens his fingers. A delicately wrought glass bottle in Slytherin green with silver overlay rests there.

I gasp. And swallow hard.

I gave him the bottle the day we bonded. It holds the potion that will allow a male to carry a foetus to term. I told him that when we were ready we would increase our family and begin a new line – the Potter-Snape’s.

“Harry are …”

“I’m sure. Very sure. I want this, Sev. Please. Here, in our home. Will you give me the gift of your seed?”

I can only nod. He smiles and leans in for another kiss. I moan. It is as seductive and addictive as the first. He draws back and eases the stopper from the small bottle. He raises it to his lips and downs it quickly. He grimaces at the taste and carefully puts the top back on the bottle. He hands it to me and I draw a deep breath and hurl it into the fire. It smashes on impact and shards fall into the flames to be consumed. I draw him to me as he shivers and then I ease down onto the rug holding him against me. He tenses and I rub his back as the first of the changes begin. He gasps and bites his lip, his hands fisted in my robes. A moan works its way free and he shakes. I feel so helpless as the changes are wrought.

Five agonising minutes later he slumps against me and I raise a shaking hand to his throat. I gasp in relief as I feel a strong pulse beating against my fingertips.

“Fenlock.”

A sudden pop and he is there.

“Master?”

“A warmed, dampened cloth and a tumbler of water.”

He bows and is gone. A slight stirring, a change in my love’s breathing and Harry begins to stir. Fenlock reappears at that instant and hands me a warmed and dampened cloth. I use it to wipe the film of perspiration from Harry’s face and he opens his eyes, and smiles. I cannot smile back. I have hurt him. I reach out and Fenlock places the glass of water in my hand and leaves once more. I bring the glass to his lips.

“Water.”

He smiles and raises a hand to take the glass.

“Let me cosset you, please.”

He nods and lets his hand fall. I place the glass against his lips and he sips from it. He takes several mouthfuls before he begins to sit up. I am loath to let him go.

“How do you feel?”

He frowns and is silent for a few moments.

“I feel different and yet the same.”

I know my eyebrow is climbing. He chuckles.

“I know, how terribly Gryffindor of me to be so unclear in my thinking.”

My lips curve into a smile and I lean forward and kiss his lips. They open for me and my tongue slips into his mouth and I feast on the sensations. Eventually I draw back and lick my lips. His are lush and damp.

Suddenly to my utter chagrin my stomach rumbles reminding me I have been otherwise occupied all day. Harry chuckled and is about to open his mouth and comment when his sends its own complaint. I allow myself a small smirk before urging him to stand. I follow swiftly in case he is unsteady but he is fine.

We turn to the table and sit.

Fenlock appears followed by two more elves each bearing a covered plate. They are set before us and uncovered. My mouth waters at the sight and Harry inhales and sighs. Tendrils of steam rise from the meat and vegetables.

“Thank you, all.”

The elves quiver and then go.

We turn our attention to the meal before us and begin to eat. Roast turkey with gravy, roast potatoes, pumpkin, carrots and beans. Food I have often eaten at Yule yet this year taste so much better.



Replete for the moment I place my cutlery on my plate and look up to see Harry has mirrored me. Fenlock approaches and lifts the cover from the dish in the centre of the table. A wooden bowl rests on the silver platter surrounded by a garland of ivy. The raised surface of the bowl shows the fine art of the wood carver for the bowl bears a wreath of holly, leaves and berries, around its centre. Harry looks puzzled as I nod to Fenlock.

He departs but returns almost at once carrying the pot I had slung over the fire. Harry and I both sniff appreciatively as the steam rising from the pot drenches our senses. Cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg compliment the woody scent of the wine. Carefully Fenlock pours the wine into the bowl and bows to me. I incline my head and stand. I collect the bowl and walk with it cradled in my hands to Harry.

“Our Wassail cup my love. Will you share it with me?”

Harry nods. I raise the bowl and breathe in the fumes, my senses spinning momentarily. I sip the warmed wine and the spices explode across my tongue. It is delicious. I take two more mouthfuls and feel its warming slide to my stomach. I lower the bowl and wish my love good health.

“Wes Hal (1), Harry.”

I hold the bowl out to him and he takes it from me and brings it to his mouth. He gasps as the rich scents burn through his senses and slowly raises it to sip from it. He lowers the bowl and licks his lips.

“Wes Hal, Sev.”

He holds the bowl out to me and I accept it before placing it on the table once more. I have no wish to have my senses clouded.

I hold out my hand and he comes to me.

“Come sit by the fire with me, my love?”

He nods and follows me to the merrily blazing fireplace and starts, as there is a sharp pop!
His eyes dart around and his wand is instantly in his hand. I place my cupped hand on his cheek.

“Have you never heard popping corn before, Harry?”

He shakes his head.

“It will happen randomly as the kernels I cast as part of the libation swell till there is no more room inside and then it explodes. Have you never eaten any at school or at the Weasleys?”

He shakes his head and chuckles.

“Not since my first year when I saw what happened to Ron.”

I frown slightly but before I can ask for additional information he tells me.

“Gred and Forge sent Ron a packet of popped corn in our first year. It made him jump and belch yellow smoke for four hours before it wore off. I’ve never risked eating any.”

I shook my head glad the Weasley twins were no longer attending Hogwarts.

I sit on the couch and Harry settles alongside me. There is no sound save for the snap and crackle of the fire. I card my finger through my mates’ unruly hair and he slips, boneless, against me. Starved for affection in his early years Harry has learned to do without but the hunger burns brightly within and I vow again to cater to it. I bring my wand out of my robes and whisper a warming spell before I summon the wassail cup. I find myself in need of the wine all of a sudden.

Tonight we shall embark on an entire new life- a family. I own I am unsure how we shall cope neither of us growing up in loving homes. I grimace. I am sure the Weasleys will offer no end of advice once our child is born and I reluctantly admit Molly Weasley would be the first I would turn to. She has successfully raised seven children, the twins and Death Eater Percy not withstanding.

Harry stirs as the wassail cup hovers before me and I set the bowl down on the table before I cajole him around until he is straddling me.

He swoops in on my lips and I moan at the essence of Harry. My tongue tangles with his and we duel lazily until lack of air forces us apart.

Harry’s finger traces my bottom lip and he looks into my eyes.

“I want your seed, Sev. I want to begin our family tonight.”

His words seer straight to my groin and I groan as I harden. I nod and summon that which I put in place earlier in the day. Garlands of mistletoe festoon the room and are strewn across any flat surface. Harry looks stunned and reaches out a tentative hand to touch the nearest sprig. I distract him with a kiss.

“Mistletoe is a symbol of fertility.

“Then let us not waste its influence. Couple with me before the fire, Sev?”

My imp wriggles on my lap and I nod helplessly, unable to deny him anything. I watch dazedly as he summons a soft surface for our love play and then mutters a quick spell that removes all of his clothes. He shivers and I immediately counter with another warming charm. He kisses me quickly on the lips and then stands. He takes a step away from me and holds out one hand. When exactly did I lose control? I find myself standing, slipping my hand into his and following as he leads me across to the pile of bedding. He turns and slides his hands up my robes and nibbles on my bottom lip. I pull him close and shudder as his hardness rubs across my cloth covered one. He pulls back.

“May I?”

I nod and he mutters the same spell that left him naked and we both groan as skin slides on skin as he leans against me. I breathe deeply, inhaling the natural musk and swoop on his mouth, plundering it. Our tongues flex and twine around each other and he moans and tries to press closer. I crush him to me and he slides his hands around my back and grinds against me before drawing back. His eyes are glittering jade and burn with a hungry fire. My own are probably filled with the same raw need. I sink to my knees pulling him down with me. I fall backwards taking him with me and then roll so he is under me. He moans and grips my upper arms, his legs parting at once to allow me between them. We both cry out as heat flares in us. I settle my weight upon him our slick hardness rubbing against each other. Harry bites his lips and wriggles and I slip below his groin the weeping tip of my shaft sliding over the newly made opening to his body. He shudders and gasps, his fingers digging deep into my biceps. Muscles move and he lifts his legs and curls them around my waist and flexes against me. My heart rate accelerates and I shudder and the urge to forcefully enter him beats at my self-control.

“In me, Sev. Now, please!”

I move to comply knowing the potion he has taken has a component that requires the seeding to be done within the first few hours to ‘cement’ as it were, the changes. I draw back a little and gasp as I align the head of my cock at his opening. The natural lubricant has coated the area and I have no resistance as I ease into the channel. Harry pants and groans biting his bottom lip till it bleeds and I fear I have hurt him. I stop. He flexes beneath me and digs his heels in.

“Deeper. I won’t break. Need you, Sev. Now!”

Pushy Gryffindor! But I allow myself to glide further in until I reach the hymen. I pause but before I can warn him he flexes once more and I break through. He grimaces at the brief pain and then seeks my lips. I lower my weight down onto him and he moans open mouthed around our kiss and then licks my bottom lip before trapping it between his teeth and stroking it with his tongue. Once he lets go I slide backwards and then push forwards. He groans and pants.

“Harder, faster, Sev!”

I begin the age-old rhythm of coupling and he moves with me. Several hungry kisses later I thrust into him and he gasps, shudders and convulses around me, holding my cock tightly and dragging my seed from me. I buck helplessly blasting my semen deep into him before I collapse onto him. He sighs and curls his arms around me as we both fight to regulate our breathing. I try to move but his grip tightens.

“Stay, please? I like you lying atop me.”

I nod all too aware of his fight to draw air, the struggle of his rib cage to rise. I brush back sweat slicked hair and find the debauched look of my mate one I enjoy. He lifts an arm and wriggles. It is then I notice the spilled seed between us and banish it with a brief cleaning charm.

A soft blush highlights his cheekbones and I like the splash of colour there.

“Are you alright?”

He nods and then looks up at me from half-lidded lashes. One finger traces over my left collarbone and he looses a sly glance at me.

“We shouldn’t just couple once, Sev, should we? I mean we want to give the potion every possible chance at success, don’t we?”

I nod knowing full well that one coupling is all that is necessary with that particular potion but I like his thinking, as ham-handed as any Gryffindor but pertinent all the same. I ease back a little and blow a gentle stream of warm air over his left nipple. He shivers and tightens around me. I am surprised to feel my shaft firming even as it is beginning to slip from his body. I lean down and take the small bud of flesh in my mouth allowing my tongue to become intimately acquainted with it. Harry pants and writhes below me. I moan as his internal muscles clamp down on me once again. I gently roll the nipple between my teeth and Harry’s hands clutch at my hair. I stop my ministrations and he lets go. I feel him scrabbling to find something other than my hair to hold onto and move to the lonely bud of flesh on the left. It firms readily as I trail my tongue over it and Harry shivers as I nip it. I inhale and the sweet scent of my mate fills my lungs and I need to bury myself deep in him once more. I thrust forward and slip my hands up under his arms to curve back and hold his shoulders. He swings his legs up and locks his heels around the small of my back and I begin quick jabs. He pants against my neck and grunts under my hard strokes.

“Harder, faster, please Sev.”

I comply, thudding against him and I cannot track the time before he gasps and cries out, his muscles clamping around my cock once more and milking it for the seed contained within my testes. I buck helplessly through my second orgasm in a very short while glad of the fertility and endurance potion I imbibed earlier with the hope against hope I would be able to pleasure my mate over the Yule break.

I let my weight settle slowly onto him and he smiles at me.

“Like feeling your weight on me.”

I am unsure as I feel the struggle it is for him to fill his lungs with air but if he wishes this then it will be so.

The inevitable happens and I grimace muttering a quick cleaning spell for each of us and ease away to lean against a settee. Harry stretches and groans as cramped muscles complain. Then he places his hand on his abdomen as if trying to feel the new life and smiles. I draw him close and he settles against my side. I place my hand over his. He twines his fingers through mine and raises them to his lips and kisses my fingertips.
“Love you, Sev.”

I place a kiss on the top of his head.

“And I you, my love.”

I summon a soft covering for us and organise it around us. Then I summon the wassail cup and Harry mutters a warming charm. The delicious spicy scent rises once more. I raise the bowl and sip.

“Wes Hal Harry and our little Potter-Snape.”

I hand the bowl to Harry and he takes a small sip.

“Wes Hal, Sev and our son or daughter.”

He puts the bowl aside and snuggles against me once more. We are content for now to watch the flames of the Yule fire and hold each other. I think back to a Muggle book I once read and a quote rises to me and I smile as I say it.

“The ache for home lives in all of us, the safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned.” (2)

He looks up at me.

“Have you found home, Sev?”

I nod and lean down and kiss his sweet lips.

“Where Thou art–that–is Home.” (3)



Fin.




(1) Wes Hal – Old English meaning Good Health or Be Whole.

(2) Maya Angelou, All God’s Children Need Traveling Shoes (1986)

(3) Emily Dickinson, Poem (circa1863)
 

Lord of the Rings - Glorfindel/Erestor

Author: Starkindler
Title: Winter Kisses
Date: December 1
Fandom: Lord of the Rings/Books
Pairing: Glorfindel/Erestor
Rating: PG
Summary: A day out with the twins brings about fruition of a long-desired wish.
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. They belong to the Tolkien estate. I am making nothing from this, except for the happy feeling I get when I write.
Feedback address: nufaciel@gmail.com
Advertisement: Part of the SAC-2004 at: http://www.kardasi.com/Advent/2004/SAC-2004.htm 
Beta: Drusilla

WINTER KISSES

'Glorfindel, come on!' the twins said in unison, each tugging on one of the blond Elf's hands. 'You promised!'

Glorfindel sighed, his eyes travelling from one twin to the other, their determined faces daring him to disappoint two five-year-olds. Looking up at the parents of the two didn't help matters in the least. Elrond's evil grin was infuriating. At least Celebrian tried to hide her smirk. The Lord and Lady of Imladris were as impossible as their boys.

Knowing that he had no other choice, he nodded. 'Very well, Elrohir, Elladan, lead the way.'

Glorfindel allowed the children to lead him through the halls of the Last Homely House, eyes firmly fixed on the ceiling and cursing Mandos for letting him out of the Halls. The last thing he wanted to do was take the twins out to make a snow-Elf, particularly after watching them inhale the sugary pastries that they had eaten only an hour before. There was nothing worse than those two in a hyperactive state.

Fortune was with him, however, because just as they were heading out the door, Erestor was coming inside. Glorfindel immediately pulled his hand away from Elrohir and grabbed the counsellor's arm. 'Erestor, how fortunate for us it is that you have come by at this time. Elrohir, Elladan, and I are on our way outside to build a snow-Elf. You should join us.'

Erestor shot him a baleful glare. 'Glorfindel, I do not think-'

'We want you to come, do we not, boys?' Glorfindel asked, ignoring the glare on his friend's face.

'Yes!' Elrohir exclaimed, taking the dark-haired Elf's hand. 'Come, Erestor, you must help us!'

'Please?' Elladan pleaded. 'You never play with us anymore.'

Erestor had as much chance of saying no to the twins as he had, and Glorfindel grinned in triumph as Erestor said, 'How can I say no to such a courteous request?'

The two Eldar watched as the boys shouted with glee and ran down the stairs, ahead of them. Glorfindel stuck his tongue out at Elrond's chief advisor when Erestor took a half-hearted swing at him. 'Very mature, Glorfindel. Why must you drag me into these things?' Erestor asked. 'I do have more important things to do than play in the snow.'

'If I must suffer, you have to share my pain,' he replied. 'Come along, before they come back to find us and give us a dressing down.'

Erestor chuckled. 'They are rather good at that for their age, are they not?'

'Yes, they are,' Glorfindel said as they walked out into the courtyard. 'They spend too much time mimicking their mother.'

It was only a few days into the new year, and it was the first snowfall of the season. Vilya kept most of the harsh weather at bay, but there always managed to be enough snow to keep the children of Imladris entertained. It had snowed off and on for three days, and there was a blanket of snow over the area, and the drifts were over knee deep in some places.

When they brought the chairs down from the veranda, the two boys were already packing the snow into a large ball. 'Are you going to help?' Elladan called out as the two Elves sat down.

'You are doing well to start, boys,' Glorfindel said. 'We will help when it gets more difficult.' The boys nodded, and he smiled as he watched them. To Erestor, he said, 'As insufferable as they may be, I would not trade them for anything. Helping them grow will most likely be one of the best experiences of my life, almost as much fun as watching you grow up.'

Erestor laughed. 'I was a handful, was I not? Worse than Elrohir is now.'

'Yes, but you were not as difficult as Elladan. He is far too headstrong. He takes after his father, whereas Elrohir is more like Celebrian.'

Erestor smirked. 'Do not let Elrond hear you talk about his stubbornness. It will put him in a temper.'

Glorfindel grinned. 'He can pout and rant better than any Elf I've ever known. I believe it derives from the spoiling in which Gil-galad indulged Elrond. He was still young when Elros chose mortality, and Gil-galad said he couldn't bring himself to say no to Elrond when he asked for anything. But here, let us talk about things other than temperamental Elven-lords. How do things fare with the plans for the council with Greenwood?' he asked as he watched Elrohir hit Elladan with a snowball. It hit the boy's head with a soft thud as the snow impacted and flew in all directions.

'All goes well. A messenger from Greenwood arrived just before you dragged me out here. Thranduil has agreed to come here for the council. It seems that the attacks on his realm are more frequent than was thought.'

Glorfindel chuckled as Elladan, who had been chasing Elrohir around the courtyard for the better part of a minute, finally caught up with his twin and pounced on him with a shout. Then, Glorfindel turned his attention back to Erestor. 'It is grievous news. I had hoped that all would be quiet for some time. No matter. We will do what we can to rid Greenwood and the Misty Mountains of its Orc population.'

'Glorfindel! Erestor! Come help us,' yelled Elrohir.

'You can speak of gloomy things later,' Elladan added. Glorfindel ducked as a snowball was thrown in his direction. 'You're supposed to be playing with us.'

'I think we'd best help them, before you become a snow-elf yourself,' Erestor commented.

'Amusing,' Glorfindel retorted, following Erestor across the yard.




'I think it rather looks like Elrond,' Glorfindel said as he sat back, eyeing their work. It was several hours later, and the four of them managed to build a passable Elf.

'It's too fat, and not nearly as stern-looking,' Erestor replied. 'Also, the eyebrows are wrong.' Glorfindel smiled at the advisor while the twins giggled.

'I don't know, I think it's rather like him,' a soft, melodious voice said from above and to the right of them. All four looked over to see Celebrian standing on the terrace, watching them.

'Then we thank you, my Lady, for the compliment,' Glorfindel said with a bow.

Celebrian's laugh floated in their direction. 'Come along, boys, it's time for your baths.' Twin groans were her answer, and she continued, 'You've been out here long enough. You've already missed lunch, and I won't have you missing dinner as well. Besides, it is entirely too cold out here for young Elven children to be outside until all hours of the night.'

Glorfindel and Erestor watched, amused, as Elrohir and Elladan stomped off toward the house, grumbling to each other. When they were out of sight, Erestor said, 'It is a rather good piece of art for five-year-olds. Unfortunately, it will not last.'

'No, but they're fun to make. I remember how much fun it was for me and the other Elven-children in Gondolin. There was always snow in the winter, and our parents would bring in even more snow by wagon, and we would compete to see who could make the most elaborate creation. We would make entire families and villages. Did you make many Snow-Elves when you were a child?'

'It seems that you have forgotten, but I was born too near the Sea. There was not much snow, and we never went in search of it.'

'You have no idea how much fun you missed during your childhood,' Glorfindel said.

'And yet, I shall find the will to survive,' Erestor shot back. 'Now that we've missed lunch, and I did not eat at breakfast, I am off to see the cook and beg a bite to eat before dinner.'

'What? You want to leave this glorious evening just to satisfy your hunger?' Glorfindel asked as he stooped down to gather snow with his hands and form it into a rather large ball, his eyes fixed on Erestor, whose back was to him as he started walking toward the house.

'Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. It has been a long day, and I have much to do. I-' Erestor said, stopping when a cold, wet mass hit the back of his head and trickled down the back of his robes.

Glorfindel grinned as Erestor slowly turned around, and then he put on his best "who, me?" face as Erestor said, 'Glorfindel, what do you think you are doing?'

'I have done nothing,' Glorfindel said, giving Erestor his most winning smile.

Erestor's eyes narrowed. 'I do not believe you. What is behind your back?'

Glorfindel shrugged. 'My hands?'

'Amusing,' Erestor said, shaking off the snow clinging to his hair. 'Just do not do that again, or I will make certain that you regret it. Now if you will excuse me-'

Glorfindel let out a loud laugh as his snowball impacted on Erestor's face. His laughter faded a little when he saw a familiar gleam in the other Elf's eyes. It wasn't a look that Erestor wore often, but it never bode well for the Elf who was the recipient of it. Glorfindel turned and ran as his survival instinct kicked in, his laughter echoing through the trees.

Glorfindel needn't look behind him to know that Erestor was close. He could hear the Elf's light footsteps pattering across the snow. He sped up, ducking branches and hopping over f