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- Entertainment and Media
The most Bizarre - Funny Advertisements
My intentions are not to make companies around the world richer, but to show you some really smart advertisements.
So… enjoy the most bizarre advertisements.
Comments Please (show me your satisfaction)
what a trip. loved all pictures.
LMAO !!! Great hub ! Soooo Funnyyyy ! :)
Brilliant - this was a great way to start the day - funny indeed!
Great fun BB
I love the imagination in some of these
Bro you have something good and funny here.But some of them are messages for all.Keep on
Great hub. Funny, and interesting. Very imaginative. GBY My Friend
This was beautiful fun! All buttons up! Thank you!


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subset: commoncrawl


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LAKE DELHI, Iowa — It's back to the drawing board for Lake Delhi officials, whose plans to improve public access to the rebuilt lake and improve water quality by upgrading lake district septic systems have been deemed "not adequate" by the Iowa Department of Natural Resources.
"We'll get through it. We're happy to have written feedback from the DNR on its expectations," said Steve Leonard, president of the Combined Lake Delhi Recreation and Water Quality District, the official governing body of the area left lakeless when 2010 flooding breached the Maquoketa River dam.
"First things first," Leonard said. "We need to get the lake back and restore the area's economic development potential. As that process continues, we can continue to work on the public access and water quality requirements."
"The Legislature has spoken that it wants the dam rebuilt. The DNR needs to work with the Lake Delhi people and figure out a way to get it done," said Rep. Lee Hein, R-Monticello, whose district includes Lake Delhi.
In appropriating $5 million to help fund rebuilding of the dam, the legislature required the lake district to submit plans to improve public access and to reduce pollution and improve the lake's water quality by addressing residents' septic systems.
In a Sept. 20 letter to Leonard, DNR Director Chuck Gipp said both plans are "not adequate."
The eight-paragraph Lake Delhi public access plan, submitted June 21, listed several existing public access amenities, almost all of which are provided either by Delaware County or private businesses.
Although the document included no concrete improvement plans, it offered two "opportunities for improvement" of public access: marketing Lake Delhi in forums and publications and discussing plans with Delaware County officials to provide boat ramps, campgrounds, public shelters and additional parking.
Rather than outline plans for new public access amenities, the plan advocated "signage to create more public awareness of this eastern Iowa attraction."
The DNR said it will require the district to install and maintain at least one public beach and one public boat ramp free to the public with access from a state or county road, adequate parking and modern restroom facilities. Other DNR requirements include portage facilities at the eventual dam site and two public fishing access sites, one of which must be near the dam site.
The DNR said it will not consider accesses outside of the lake district (at county parks, for example) to be considered as meaningful public access.
The DNR also disputed the district's assertion that it does not have water quality issues. The DNR said its own monitoring of the lake's surface water and ground water has found elevated levels of e. coli and fecal coliform bacteria. All septic systems and wells within the district should be inventoried, inspected and upgraded, if needed, the DNR said.
Since the money was appropriated to the DNR with the public access and water quality stipulations, "the DNR is responsible to ensure compliance with these restrictions and requirements in order to protect the state's investment in the reconstruction of the Lake Delhi dam," Gipp wrote in his letter to the district.


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How to Make large mushroom fireballs with wax
Watch this video to see how to turn all of your useless candles into a melted pot of wax. It will teach you how to chop all of the candles up into chunks of wax and put them in a bucket on the fire. Then, just get some good ol' H2O and pour that water on the melted candle wax to see a giant burst of flames. This explosion of fire will keep you coming back for more, and more. Remember, fireballs are dangerous, so be cautious and keep a safe distance, and maybe throw on some protective glasses, too.


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ago27 days ago
Scroll Saw Castles: How to Make Collapsible Castles on Your Scroll Saw.
I purchased this Book sometime ago and sat on my shelf since. I don't know why I bought it as I have no real interest in the subjects, So, Brand New for somebody that finds it more interesting than I do.
• Paperback: 60 pages
• Publisher: ebrandedbooks.com,US (1 Jun. 2001)
• Language: English
• Product Dimensions: 21.6 x 0.5 x 28 cm
Scroll Saw Castles by Jim Stirling promises how to teach you how to make collapsible castles on your scroll saw. I have to say that it delivers on this point. The introductory section, which covers the basics of constructing these types of castles, was informative and reasonably clear. If nothing else it explained how the whole 'collapsible' element was achieved.
ago27 days ago


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"I walked it for 10 feet when the wire was about 18 inches off the ground and had a hard time"
CORNELIUS, N.C. — No.15 5-hour ENERGY Toyota driver Clint Bowyer attended an event last August at Charlotte Motor Speedway to announce that tight rope walker Nik Wallenda would walk from the top of the grandstand to victory lane on a quarter inch steel cable.
Wallenda performed the actual tight rope walk on race day last October as Bowyer walked to driver introductions. Bowyer looked on in amazement and commented that it took a different kind of person to make a living that way.
That night, Bowyer attempted his own high-wire act, as he and crew chief Brian Pattie gambled on fuel mileage and raced to victory lane in the Bank of America 500. Bowyer, in a Pink Lemonade 5-hour ENERGY Toyota benefitting a breast cancer related charity, crossed the finish line just before his car ran out of fuel and he did a walk all his own - from the start-finish line to victory lane.
This weekend Wallenda will perform another tight rope walk and Bowyer will again race a pink paint scheme, this time featuring 5-hour ENERGY's newest flavor Raspberry and benefitting Living Beyond Breast Cancer. Both men are hoping for similar results.
Bowyer ranks ninth in the Sprint Cup Series standings with 2,128 points. Bowyer trails point leader Matt Kenseth by 55 points with six races remaining in the Sprint Cup season.
BOWYER ON WALLENDA: "That guy is crazy! I watched him perform that walk last year from the top of the grandstand over to victory lane and was in awe. I did it for 10 feet when the wire was about 18 inches off the ground and had a hard time. I made it across, but just barely. Now here this guy is hundreds of feet off the ground walking, above people mind you, about 500 times as far. He told me that it doesn't matter if you're 18 inches or 400 feet above the ground - it's the same walk. I told him he may be right, but it hurts a lot less if you fall from 18 inches."
ON WINNING THE 2012 BANK OF AMERICA 500: "That was one of the most unexpected, fun and crazy nights of my life. We ran out of gas, walked to victory lane - which was pure chaos - went to the media center and had one of the more memorable press conferences I can remember. Then we went up to the Stadium Club and did a Champaign toast, more media before heading back to our own little party in the driver coach lot. When I woke up in the morning I was still trying to piece it all together. I had a new watch, sports coat and I couldn't find the trophy! Now I'm just ready to do it all over again this weekend!"


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Click here to register for BioBlitz 2016!
BioBlitz 2015 Was a Grand Success!
This year we were lucky to host BioBlitz on Nelson Island, and despite some tumultuous seas and windy weather, we had a wonderful time! This years location lent us the opportunity to explore our coastal marine ecosystem and add a great deal of species to our list. Many thanks to all the wonderful volunteers, volunteer field guides and specialists who helped make this years BioBlitz a success! And most of all, thanks to all of you who came out to enjoy the 2 day festival – learning about and celebrating our remarkable local biodiversity! Check out our Facebook page to see what great fun was had by all.
Special thanks are gratefully extended to the many volunteers and naturalists that came out to contribute their energy & expertise: Mike Allen, Jenn Barrett, Dree Broderick, Diane Brown, Annette Clark, Anne Clemence, Michelle Evelyn, John Field, Sue Grayston, Dominique Goulet, Tony Greenfield, Julian Heavyside, Ting-Chun Kuo, Derrek Larsen, Felix Martinez, Rebecca Mersereau, Rick O'Neill, Cindy Prescott, Sulan Ramdeen, James Reinert, Jim Rossi, Seth Rudman, Erin Rutherford, Haley Sapers, Phoenix Starllen, Eva Starsage, Graham Starsage, Seth Starsage, Dawn Steeves, Maggie Stewart, Dave Stiles,Karel Valenta, Pamela Zevit, and our volunteer Ruby Lake Lagoon Society Board.
Also gratitude to the South Coast Conservation Program, the South Coast Bat Action Team and the Pender Harbour Wildlife Society for presenting information on their good works and leading us in some fabulous explorations of local wildlife!
History of BioBlitz
To highlight the biodiversity all around us, we've been organizing a Sunshine Coast BioBlitz every year since 2008. Part contest, part festival, part educational event, and part scientific enterprise, a BioBlitz brings together scientists, naturalists and community members of all ages to count as many species from as many different taxonomic groups as they can in a 24-hour survey of a chosen site. Since the first BioBlitz in Washington, D.C. in 1996, BioBlitzes have been carried out in countless locations across the United States, Australia, Canada, and New Zealand.
Our annual Sunshine Coast BioBlitz is organized around a "base camp," the hub of the BioBlitz. This centralized location is equipped with microscopes, computers, and other scientific tools of the trade. The base camp is the place were insects are pinned, fungi sorted, and pond water examined. It is where identifications take place, species are recorded, discoveries are made, and the tally of species is recorded. Community members will work along side scientists at the "base camp" and join them out into the field to undertake a variety of field sampling activities.
In addition to participating in the field survey activities, community members can also attend a diversity of special public programs. Scientists and naturalists participating in the BioBlitz lead different organized interactive events for community members of all ages to enjoy, such as "Herp (amphibians & reptiles) Hunt", "Butterfly Count", "Wonderful Wildflowers", "Wildlife Night Hike and Bat Mist Netting", "Pond Dipping", "Meet the Mollusks", "Wildlife Stories", "Dawn Bird Walk", "Mushroom Madness" and much more.
The goals of the Sunshine Coast BioBlitz are:
- to increase the public's awareness of the variety of life in their immediate neighborhood and the ecosystem services these species provide;
- to popularize science and inspire naturalists of all ages;
- to provide valuable scientific data;
- to build partnerships and increase knowledge.
Over the past eight years, our Sunshine Coast BioBlitz events have brought community members together to celebrate, catalogue and record is the amazing diversity of life on our Coast. Species have been collected and identified from the Ruby Lake Lagoon Nature Reserve, local parks, nature reserves, backyards, beaches, and even under the sea.


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A/N: Okay, so I know it's been like a bajillion years, and I sincerely apologize. But I am here to make sure this fanfic ends in the way it deserves! And YES, this IS the final chapter! If you're here, reading this – and most likely having to reread the past 4 parts because it's been so long – I love you, and thank you. Please forgive me?
She didn't allow herself to find out what had happened afterwards. Even her most masochistic tendencies couldn't push her towards that. The truth was that everything – all of it: Harry going over to break up Ginny's engagement, and Malfoy, instead of defending his pending matrimony, had come over here, to her place – had made her finally reach her limit and what had then manifested was the split-second decision to pack up some clothes and head to her parents' old beach house. She was doing it: she was finally running away. After all, no logical, sane woman would have stayed. No logical, sane woman would have stayed to see her entirely world fall apart and then be able to sleep in the same bed and make the same cup of coffee.
So she ended up going someplace she knew the news would never reach her.
It was around 3 in the morning when she had thrown her overnight bag into the back seat and began driving to the beach house. It would be at least a two hour drive, but the roads would be quiet and empty, so she welcomed it. As she drove she tried to think of why she hadn't done this sooner. Maybe it was her constant need to see things through – her dependability and loyalty. Good Old Dependable and Loyal Hermione. Who would have known that her best qualities would have led to the slow yet inevitable unraveling of her life? Who would have known that her loyalty to her friend and her love for him would have caused her to painstakingly stick by him even as he longed for someone else? But who could have known, really? Hadn't she done right by everyone – even at the cost of her own happiness – or at least tried to? Because it was one thing to deserve what was coming to you; it was something else entirely to be blindsided.
She tried not to feel so alone. She couldn't possibly be the only woman in history that this had to have happened to, and she knew legitimately that she wasn't. She thought back to all of those nights she had stayed up, flipping through channels, occasionally catching the end of some Woman Scorned-themed made for TV movie. But even that didn't make her feel any less utterly alone. For one: more or less, they had ended on a good note, full of hope and with a beacon of light shining at the end of the tunnel. But if her life was anything, it was not a movie, and so she accepted that there was a high chance she would not be getting the cinematically satisfying ending she had grown so used to seeing.
She put on a CD that her mom had given her for Christmas. It was a Best of the Beach Boys album. She turned it up loud and rolled down her windows, trying to sing along in that pathetic way someone only does when they need something – anything – to do to keep from crying. Even when no one was watching, she felt the need to keep up the phony pretense that she was happy. Not even happy, per se, but okay. Okay was fine. Okay was bearable. Okay was at least scraping by. Okay was singing "Fun, fun, fun" against the painful lump in her throat and skipping right past "Wouldn't it be nice?" to "California Girls."
This was why she needed to get away – to be alone, and unreachable for awhile. Because she'd realized something: in the midst of all the falling-apart and the chaos of the wedding, she had lost herself. Not in the way that you would absentmindedly drop your keys on the street or lose your pin number, but lost as in a gradual fade. That was the worst of it. So gradual that she hadn't even known it until she had looked Malfoy in the eye.
When she reached the house, the sky had lightened and the sun was on its way up. She dug out the spare key from a loose plank in the patio. Even inside, she could hear the crunch of the sand underneath her shoes.
She went into her old room and slipped back into bed. She tried to think of the last time she'd been here. It must've been summers ago. Judging from an old summer dress she still had hanging up, she had gained at least two dress sizes since then. Her old bunny, Mr. Carrot, is still perched on her nightstand, and so is her shell collection.
Then she closed her eyes. She sleeps for days.
That night she'd gone into the kitchen to make herself a drink. What she had really intended on doing was plunging her face into a sink full of freezing water. See, she'd realized that she was in a fairly delicate position. Malfoy was in her living room, watching infomercials, probably expecting her to come back out of the kitchen some time. The god-awful reality was that she didn't want to. If only there was some hidden trapdoor underneath her kitchen left over from the 1950's that she didn't know about, one that led to a safe place where she could just hide out and take everything in. Preferably in the fetal position, or in a nice aromatherapy bubble bath.
She wanted to wonder how things were going with Harry. If he, like all other heartbroken heroes before him, was saying all of the right things to Ginny, and if she, like all other beautiful girls before her, was crying and believing any of it. But right now, she was also a little preoccupied with the situation in her living room. She wasn't even sure if she could rightly call it a situation. It was just Malfoy, acting so unnervingly calm about his fiancé being stolen away by her (ex) boyfriend. She couldn't even explain it; it just made her feel funny.
She opened up a beer and she sat at her kitchen table, drinking. Ten minutes later Malfoy was back within her line of view. He was standing in her kitchen doorway, with his hands in his pockets. She watched him carefully without even knowing it. Why were his hands always in his damn pockets? And why did it suddenly bother her so much?
She thought about how great it must be to be him. Even now – especially now. To be here and not give a single shit that his wedding would probably be called off. To be here and have absolutely nothing to lose – because he didn't love her. It was this position was infinitely superior to that of hers. He had all the power and she had none.
"Aren't you going to offer me one?" he asked her, a little smugly. "I am your guest, after all."
Then something interesting happened. She looked at him, and she suddenly saw the reason why everything in her life had fallen to fantastically gruesome shreds. He came in, and suddenly it was as clear to her as if he had walked into the Burrow, all those months ago, with Ginny in one hand and a bomb detonator in the other. Like the way tragic events in history worked, people could always trace the beginning of destruction to the entrance of one person. Just one measly person at first – easily lost in a crowd, barely anything to whisper about. But at the end they would be the face you'd remember, because they would be the one standing above all the rubble, laughing at the world.
"No, you're an intruder," she said. "Not only that, but you're a life-ruiner. The minute you showed up, Malfoy, you ruined everything. Just – everything. Everybody's lives have been ruined because of you."
The entire time, he had played a victim, just like her – a cooler, more unfazed victim, but a victim just the same. But he had lied. He held a position of power, just like Harry, and just like Ginny. That was what lack of love gave people – power. She held none of it because she loved Harry. He had all of it because he didn't love her. And Malfoy could stand in her kitchen doorway with his hands in his pockets in exactly this way because he was on the verge of losing absolutely nothing.
She heard him quietly scoff. He didn't move his hands from his pockets. "Look, it's not my fault that Potter's in love with Ginny, all right? He would've figured it out sooner or later. He's stupid, but he's not that stupid."
"You don't know that."
"And what about you? Just standing around, waiting for him to leave you? Are you going to say that's my fault, too? From the very first day it happened," he said to her, squinting his eyes, "you knew. And yet you stayed. Why, Granger? Is it because you're an optimist? You think just because you're a good person, good things happen to you? Or is it because you're afraid? Potter was easy until he wasn't, am I right?"
"Fuck you," she spat at him. "I am a great person. I am a fucking great person. And I am not afraid."
He scoffed at her. Louder this time. "Bullshit."
"And what about you, Malfoy, huh?" she said, getting up to her feet. Beside her, her hands shook. "What are you afraid of? Why are you here? Why aren't you with Ginny, instead, burying your fist into Harry's face? That's it, isn't it?" she said, a sudden realization coming over her, her voice getting louder with triumph. "You're scared shitless to be there when she picks him over you. And that's why you're hiding out here." She took two quick strides over to him. "Well, guess what? Fuck you. I don't want you here. Get out." And then she shoved him.
His hands came out of his pockets. At first she'd thought it was so he could try to regain his balance, but his balance was just fine. Instead he had grabbed her shoulders.
"Typical of you," he said. She had gotten him now. His eyes were flashing. "Sticking up for Potter when he's just left you for your best friend's sister." His voice was hurried but hoarse. "Don't you get it, Granger? We were with the wrong people."
She heard him but she didn't want to think about it. In her mind, she had already made him up as the ultimate enemy of her happiness, which made it an incredible time for deflecting and/or denying anything significant or true that he might have said. And so that was what she did. Mentally, she deflected him. Physically, she pushed him again.
"Stop it!" she said to him, shoving his hands off of her. "Stop acting like we're on the same side! We're not! You don't even love her!"
Which was true. So true that she started to cry. The thing with crying is that it always happens at the most inopportune moment – at a time that starting to cry would possibly rob you of whatever integrity you had just happened to crawl away with. You always cry with every bit of yourself refusing to. What's interesting is that your willpower has nothing to do with vulnerability and how your body inevitably chooses to show it. She had a great amount of willpower, but that didn't stop her from unwillingly crying in front of Malfoy. And God, she hated herself for it now and forever; for as long as she would have the misfortune of retaining the ability to remember this very moment.
He looked at her with his face pulled so tightly that if she hadn't known better, she would have thought he was in pain, too. He told her that she was right – he didn't love her. And then he had opened his mouth to say something else, but he closed it up again without saying another word.
And then he quickly left.
For that, a little part of her was grateful to him.
When she woke up, it was around noon. She had slept so long that the only difference between being asleep and being awake was that she had a headache and that her skull felt somewhere around a hundred pounds. Everywhere on her body she could feel evidence of an overwhelming desire to no longer participate in life's emotional Olympics, so she laid there for another hour with her eyes to the ceiling, wondering how things had since changed since she had left home. The good part was that she didn't even attempt to imagine the Happily Ever After of her now-former boyfriend and her possibly now-former friend. For once, she didn't know how to.
After showering and eating, she took a walk on the beach. Being far away from the grotesque birth place of your problems always makes it a little easier to cope: the actual, physical distance made her breathe easier. She walked along the shoreline and inhaled the fresh ocean air. And then she called Elena.
"Where the hell have you been?" was how she'd greeted her, after her secretary had passed on the call. "Dave went nuts. Everybody thought you were dead or joined a cult."
"Tell Dave I had an emergency. I need a week."
"As relieved as I am that you are finally using up your vacation days," Elena said, "what the hell happened to you? Where are you?"
She sighed. "I'm at my parents' beach house. I just needed a break, that's all."
Elena was silent for a second. "Shit. It fell apart, didn't it? Are you okay? No, don't answer that. Of course you're not, that's why you need a fucking vacation on a nice peaceful beach. Anyway, call me if you need anything else. Also, some people have stopped by here looking for you." She paused uncertainly, and Hermione knew exactly who she meant had stopped by. "If I had known, Hermione, I would have punched him square in the jaw when he came in here, I swear."
A picture of Elena, in her navy blazer and tortoiseshell glasses, punching Harry flashed in her mind and for the first time in what felt like a very long time, she felt herself smile. "Listen, don't tell anyone where I am, okay?"
"Hey, if you want to disappear for awhile," she said, "you disappear. I'll be here when you get back."
She drove into town to buy groceries for the week that she'd decided she was staying. She picked up some fruits and fresh vegetables and even stopped by a few of the places she had loved while she had been growing up. Namely, the old-timey ice cream shoppe with her favorite kind of cotton candy ice cream. Even years later, in her adult life, she spontaneously craved this one specific thing from her childhood. Every time she thought of it, the memory of the first time she'd ever had it was never far behind, as if eternally attached, like tiny balls of lint to her favorite sweater. She'd been eight and had just skinned her knee running after her balloon. Her parents, like all good parents, took her to the ice cream shoppe to make her feel better. In the most simplistic of ways, it comforted her. It took her back to a time and place where just the first lick of a cotton candy ice cream could make all the bad and hurt disappear.
In a kind of foolish, childish way, she sat there and hoped it would do the trick, just like it always used to. That the cloud of sadness would lift and she would be lost in its sweet, pastel swirl – it didn't work, of course, because she knew better. Adulthood stole those things from you. It made you calculated and cold and doubtful of things that seemed too easy. Now everything good that didn't eventually take something from you all seemed so imaginary.
She didn't give much credit to dreams – or deciphering them. To her, dream interpretation was about as cracked up as Divination. There was no clear logic to it, let alone clear standards that could make it even the least bit credible. But that night she dreamt about Draco Malfoy. Real vivid, too – at first she wasn't even aware that it was a dream. It had been so clear that she could see every indigo fleck in his unnervingly pale eyes and every blond strand of hair. The only reason she'd known it was a dream because of how she felt around him: safe, and comforted. She was too guarded to feel any of that around him in reality. This was because every time she saw Malfoy, she had a flashback of her childhood – and him in it – which never failed in conjuring up some old feelings of anger and annoyance.
In her dream, she felt none of that. In fact, in her dream, she had been standing in a crowd of people, waiting for something. Then she saw the white flowers and the church doors open and she realized, quite bitterly, that she was there for a wedding. Ironic thing was that she knew exactly whose wedding it was. She also knew that she – even in delusional Dream World – couldn't stay. So she started to squeeze through the people as fast as she possibly could, with her heart beating loudly as the organ began to play and fill up the church.
She made it out in time. She found herself in a nice little garden, and then she looked up, and Malfoy was there. As usual, he had his hands in his pockets.
"What are you doing here?" she asked him.
"I knew you'd come running out here, eventually," he said, ignoring her question. So she asked it again.
"I guess," he said, looking right at her. "Waiting for you."
Except she knew that he wasn't guessing. She didn't know how, but it was Dream World, and anything and everything usually goes in Dream World. When she woke up back in reality, she would try to shake off the weird feeling her dream gave her, but the remnants would stay. That was what made it even more impossible not to think of him.
She refused to analyze her dream because she lacked the imagination to. Instead she focused on the last few days with him. How he had shown up at her apartment and had given her that look and grabbed her by the shoulders – their first real act of physical contact. "Don't you get it?" he'd said to her. "We were with the wrong people." She hadn't wanted to let that sink in at that moment because she knew that it meant something – something so much bigger than what she was ready for. It was, in every sense of the word, a game-changer.
Taking it simply at face-value, he was right. They were with the wrong people. That's why things ended up the way they had, and why she was now hiding away in her parents' beach house, two hours away. But she knew better than to think that face-value was all it had going for it, because of that look in his eyes that she had never really seen before, and the way the air refused to settle between them afterwards. She hadn't even realized she'd been holding her breath until he had let go of her.
It'd scared her because it was different. In that sole moment in time, he had been different. He had stepped out of the shoes of the role she'd molded him into and had completely broken character, and that had scared her.
Now the only problem was whether she could allow herself to believe any of it.
Eventually, she went back to her life. She packed up her meager belongings, locked up the sandy house, and drove the two hours back. She was a grown-up, after all. That was what grown-ups did. They ran away for a little while, but they were always supposed to come back and pick up where they left off.
There was a process for grieving and loss and acceptance, and she knew this. There was also a process for walking up the steps to the apartment that you and your boyfriend had formerly lived in to promptly pack up your things and find another place to live. Due to short notice, she had decided that she was just going to show up at her parents' house with all of her things. If that was an inconvenience, then she would go back to the beach house. After a while, she knew she wouldn't mind the sand. Ambitious that she was, she would find some way to make it work.
When she walked in, the apartment seemed empty. As she walked around, she noticed that everything looked the same but that nothing felt the same. She took her wand from her coat pocket and watched as all of her belongings began to pack themselves up. But the problem seemed to lie with the things that she and Harry had bought jointly, and thus belonged to the both of them – equally. Even magic couldn't discern this so she watched as she and Harry's vinyl collection began to spark and push back and forth, as if caught in an invisible game of Tug of War.
And then there he was, standing behind her. It's interesting how seeing a person, face to face, makes everything even realer. As if the past week had all been but a dream, just phantom feelings and forged emptiness – and then she saw him, and it swooped all over her again, a fresh dusting of pain and betrayal.
"I'm just packing my things," she said. "I'll be done in ten minutes."
Her throat felt painfully congested with the things she wanted to say, but the logical part of her won out by reminding her that nothing she could say would change things. It had already happened. It was done. Words, however well-intended, were useless to their relationship now.
"Listen." His face was crumpled with guilt, and she looked away. But she let him apologize, and let him call himself a dick and a terrible human being. The truth was that she should have been happy listening to his self-deprecating monologue, but she'd already known his flaws. She saw them way before he ever did. She hated them now but she had also once loved them, not too long ago.
In the end he told her that he hoped she would forgive him someday. "I did a bad thing, Hermione, and I don't expect to be forgiven any time soon," he'd said to her. "But you're still my best friend, and I still love you. Always."
Her things had finished packing and had shrunk themselves to fit very neatly into the enchanted suitcase she had brought. She looked at him, and there was no doubt she still loved him, but he was wrong. She shook her head.
"Harry," she said. "I don't think that you should say that to me."
With his eyes still steady on her, he quietly asked why not.
"Because if that were true, Ginny would be married to Malfoy by now. And you and I – maybe we would be having brunch somewhere, or still be in bed, telling funny stories. But we're not. We're not. Do you get that?"
He did. He solemnly nodded his head.
She grabbed her suitcase and left.
It wasn't that Hermione didn't believe that Harry loved her. Deep down, she knew that he genuinely, honestly did. She also knew that he could never un-love her, either. It was just that Elena had once told her that you couldn't love two people equally at once. "What I mean is," she'd said, moving her cigarette away from her mouth, "there are no halfsies. Not equally, anyway. If you love two people, you will always love one person more. A little bit more, a lot more – it doesn't make a difference, the point is: you will always love one more. And that will be the person you ultimately choose. At the end of the day, that will be the person that will ultimately make you happy. I mean, there are some things you share, you know? Like gum and sweaters and phone numbers. Your heart," she said, pouring her a drink, "is not one of them. It's just not."
It would be months later when she sees him. At least, when she thinks she sees him – in reality, it wasn't actually him, but a man that had slightly similar hair color. She's aware enough to know that this was what wishful thinking did to a person. She mistook every single platinum blond man in a dark coat as him, only to approach them with a thudding heart to realize that, besides sharing a similar shade of hair color, they looked nothing like him at all.
"Why don't you just call him?" Elena said, one day over coffee, after she'd caught her eyes trailing after a blond man across the street. "It's been months. And you might get a reputation as some kind of desperate blond-chaser."
"It's not that simple."
She tried to imagine that conversation, especially since Draco Malfoy did not own a phone, so she would have to communicate by owl. That made things even more difficult to initiate, even disregarding the fact that she had almost literally beat him out of her apartment. When she had told Elena about this, she barely budged, saying, "See? Like I said. Repressed feelings of frustration. I told you to take that kick-boxing class with me. I told you but you didn't listen. So you beat the one guy that might actually love you. Naturally."
She rolled her eyes. "Oh, right. Childhood rivalry stuff. He made fun of your teeth, or something."
"Okay, it was a lot more serious than that." More like years and years of torment.
"Of course it was," she said. "But is any of that even relevant? To now, I mean. To you now. You're an adult, Hermione. Your ex-boyfriend left you for your other best friend's sister. Didn't that painful, screwed up little event motivate you to just get up and do whatever the hell you feel like doing?"
She thought about that for a second. The weird thing about life was that everywhere you went, people were telling you to take chances, to take risks, and to do whatever the hell you wanted – Carpe diem! and all of that fortune cookie crap. They rarely mentioned the consequences. They tell you to go sky diving but they never tell you that thirty people die sky-diving every year. They'd just tell you that wasn't the point. The point was grabbing life by the horns and being open to the infinite possibilities.
She was familiar with concept but she had never really considered it, to do whatever the hell she wanted. She was too considerate that way. She recognized that sudden change made people uncomfortable and she was too polite to do that to them. But Elena had a point. She was at that rare summit in her life where she really didn't care about inconveniencing people, because hadn't they already inconvenienced her?
She stared at Elena, who was dumping another packet of sugar into her coffee. Behind her she watched a couple laughing over a funny story one of them had told.
"But," Hermione said quietly, "how do I know if it's real?"
She didn't even look up. "You don't."
"Then why even try? Why go, if there's even a possibility that it's not real?"
"Because," she said, leaning in towards her. Hermione noticed the cream on her bottom lip. "Because what's the alternative? Sitting here and having coffee and wondering, asking the same questions over and over. Maybe it's not real. But maybe it is. You're sure as hell not going to find out just sitting here."
She sat there for a second, taking it in. The same couple behind her erupted into another fit of laughter, blissful in their sparkling relationship abyss. And then she grabbed her coat.
The first time she'd decided to go after him, in the café, she was almost halfway there when she turned back around. To be fair, it really was nothing like how they showed it in the movies. Emotionally, it was both staggering and traumatizing. There was no hip yet poignant soundtrack playing in the background, no nosy yet inspiring cab driver. Five minutes after, the adrenaline had worn off and all she was left with was self-doubt. Even more, she realized that she was not ready, and she wanted to be – completely. She wanted to be able to stand in front of him and not be a wreck. As ridiculous as it was, she wanted to be worth it – not for him, but for herself. That way, if things didn't turn out the way she hoped, she would still be okay. Alone, but still always okay.
The second time was purely accidental. She'd just spent the day with Luna and Ron when, in coming back, she had passed by the shop she'd remembered entering with Malfoy. She paused, watching its bright window from across the street, with the delicate glassworks elegantly poised and its gold leaf inconspicuously winking at her. Inside she could see all of the perfectly fragile statues and displays, like a mini-porcelain palace. The next thing she knew, she was crossing the street and going through its heavy glass doors.
She was semi-aware that she did not belong there. For one: she was not looking for over-priced, vintage wedding china. Secondly: her feelings on china were still approximately the same from the last time she'd been in here. Regardless of all of that, she found herself wandering around, examining the collections inside of the glass cases. She closed her eyes and tried to remember the conversation they'd had in here, about his parents' wedding china. It seemed like years ago now. She could hardly remember what he'd said, but she kept walking around, looking closely, waiting to get it. Maybe it would hit her. Maybe she would see the right kind of china and she would understand what he'd been trying to tell her. That is – if he'd been trying to tell her anything at all.
"I thought you didn't care about plates."
She didn't have to turn around to know it was him. From the way the tiny hairs stood up on her neck to the way she felt her heart plummet to her stomach and then back again, it was hard to think of who else it could possibly have been.
"I don't," she said, swallowing hard. "But it doesn't hurt to double-check."
He stepped up beside her, and she silently took a deep breath. He was here. Out of nowhere, but what did that matter? He was here, like magic.
She slowly turned to him. "Let's go outside."
Outside, the streets were empty and damp. It had been raining on and off, and all the wetness around them reflected gold from the light of the window display. It was late enough that most of the shops had closed, with the remaining few just open for the hour. In the back of her mind, she panicked about whether she had waited too long – if he had moved on since then, or worse: if she'd just imagined everything. That was the problematic thing with whether something was "real" or not. People forgot that realness was subjective. What was real to her could very possibly mean nothing to him at all.
"From what I heard, you disappeared," he said. "So I assume you want all the sordid details about how Ginny and Potter reconciled, and how the world seems to have avoided internally combusting, yet again."
She scoffed. "No. I've moved on."
His eyes were steady on her and he was silent for a minute, as if scrutinizing her. "Is it working?"
"I'd say so. Slowly but surely." She paused. "What about you?"
He smirked a little, and some part of that relieved her. Everything was changing but at least that was familiar. She thought about it and she actually wanted to laugh. Who would have thought that, some day, she would find his stupid little smirk comforting? When had it changed from being an annoying reminder of his privileged lot in life to something that she suddenly wanted to cling onto – to something that meant that even though everything now seemed unrecognizable, that would always be the same?
When had that turned into such a good thing?
"Easy enough. Like you said, I didn't love her."
"I think," she said, watching his face carefully, "you loved her a little."
She knew better now, angst aside, that it was impossible to have emerged from that situation unscathed, for anyone. Even if he had, like he'd said, never loved her. Because she refused to believe that. Instead she believed that, once upon a time, he had loved her. Even if it had been for the briefest of moments. Even if, in the end, he had lost it. Because the thing with losing something was that it had to have belonged to you first. And that always – always – hurt.
He smiled her a microscopic smile. "Maybe."
She let him know that it didn't make any sense. His logic was too flawed to stand on its own. If he hadn't loved Ginny, even at least a little, then why did he stay for so long? He could've easily just cut himself out of the picture and promptly moved on, away, mess-free.
"Maybe," he said, "I thought there was something worth sticking around for. Maybe all I needed was a little patience."
This. It was this moment that could have teetered between good and devastating. But as she looked up at him, with the golden light of the window faintly reflecting off of his hair, she just knew, somehow, that maybe she had worried about realness for nothing. If it hadn't been real, he would have walked right past the shop. But he hadn't. He had gone in, and now he was out here, with her. Some things you just couldn't dispute. Some things just felt like fate.
"And how," she asked, carefully choosing her words, "is that going for you?"
"You know," he said, staying very still and close to her, "really good, suddenly. Really good."
She had watched enough movies and read enough books to know that that sounded like an opportune moment for a kiss.
So she, like all other heroines before her, went for it.
Best friends always notice when things have changed for you. At least – the best kind of best friends. The really attentive kind.
That was why the following morning Elena immediately paused her conversation with Tod and followed her into the coffee room. Hermione poured some coffee into her mug.
"Either everything worked out or you just had the best sex of your life."
She tried not to smile at her. She was basking in the afterglow, and she didn't want to be smug about it. "Both."
Elena shook her head. "You lucky bitch."
Later on, she would relay this conversation to Malfoy, when they met up at his flat for the night. He listened on, amused. "And what did you say?"
"I didn't," she said. "I didn't say anything. Because it's kind of true, isn't it?"
"Maybe the bitch part," he said, and she rolled her eyes. "But you were never lucky, Granger. From what I've seen, you actually repel luck. You are the unluckiest person I know. But you are incredibly hard-working. And that matters more than luck."
She stared at him for a second. And then she laughed, shaking her head.
"This," she said. "Just this. You and me. It better work. I mean, it just seems too crazy to."
"That," he said, "is exactly why it will."


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From: meralonne | Posted: 9/7/2010 4:07:34 PM | #002It's likely that they will start off as babies, then eventually grow into young children. It's unlikely that you will be able to breed an army of children that grow into adulthood and follow you around on adventures.
True_Rune posted...it has been said tho, that you can bring anyone along with you(wife and child included) on your adventures, and if they are suitable, they'll fight and even kill enemies.tho....who knows if that will actually be true.---It took hundreds to kill me, but I killed humans by the THOUSANDS!!! Look at me!!! I am sublime!! I am the TRUE face of evil!!!
I also heard this along with that your child does infact grow into early adolescence and can acompany you in battle. I cant remember where I heard this, was probably just people making stuff up like everybody seems to do on these boards so this post might be worth ignoring. Just saying I heard it a while back, hope its true, hope somebody can confirm it :P
True_Rune posted...I heard it from a developer in on of the many videos from Youtube.---It took hundreds to kill me, but I killed humans by the THOUSANDS!!! Look at me!!! I am sublime!! I am the TRUE face of evil!!!
Yeah you are right about your point mate sorry. Just re-read my post and it sounds like im doubting your post. I'm not, i'm agreeing with it haha. Just adding to it and doubting myself. :P
You are not allowed to request a sticky.


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text:
Characters, setting and the likes are not mine, unfortunately. Title and lyrics from Joshua Radin's Today.
I sat beside you and became myself, today
You are the one I've been waiting for today
They had not changed a single detail in the large manor for years, yet the feeling he received once inside its walls could not have been more different if it had been built a new. He didn't doubt for one second that it was the absence of his father that made the portraits come alive with chatter and laughter, while the marble floors seemed to shine twice as bright. The Manor felt more alive than ever, just like the royal blue eyes of his mother.
With his slender finger tracing the outline of the statue in the hallway, he watched his mother reach over the dining table showing Tipsy just how she preferred it to be set for this evening. She straightened up and surveyed the room, her posture as rank and proud as it had always been, but the stiffness and the air of arrogance had evaporated. She was still his mother, but she had become the woman he always knew she could be. The death of his father had buried the cold, emotionless, formal woman who found smiling a rather disgusting crime and brought forth a proud, kind woman full of life. He had always known she was in there, the caring and giving mother alongside the enthusiastic and empathetic woman, but he had not foreseen just how much she had to give to her surroundings.
It was purely for her he did this rather tiring ritual. If it wasn't for his wish to keep her this content and dynamic, he would never agree to her countless set ups. He tore his eyes from her gesturing and met his own reflection in the tall decorative mirror placed on the opposite side of the hallway. His left hand rose to straighten the collar of his forest green dress robes. The fine silk felt cool against his fingertips, the thin fabric falling dramatically around his shape. He rose his chin, gazing at his regal appearance under slightly lowered eye lids. Might as well dress the part.
"It looks marvelous, mother," he proclaimed as he walked through the glass doors he had pulled open.
"I am quite pleased with the arrangements," she replied, a content smile flickering across her lips. "Do you think she will appreciate it?"
"You are the one who invited the girl," he reminded her, walking around his mother's figure. "I do not know if her taste is as exquisite as your own."
His mother rolled her eyes dramatically.
"Would I ever pick someone with less than exquisite taste to introduce to my son?"
He released a smirk at that, having been through this process enough times to recognise the type of women his mother would bring along to their weekly dinners.
"Even you are capable of surprises," he retorted, brushing his hand against the fabric on his arms even though it was quite flawless.
"Don't be cheeky."
He just smiled at her and when her small chuckle resonated through the room, his heart swelled with contentment. It had always been his number one priority to keep his mother happy, even if it meant dining with the densest specimen of the female race from time to time. As she went back to work, he retreated from the overpowering dining room, finding his parlor as blissfully empty as the rest of the house.
He only spent a few hours at the Manor every week, but he had made this room his own and large quantities of the time he spent in the large house was in this very room. Truth be told, he had picked it because of the view. It was a very un-Malfoyish thing to do, but as he stood in the flooding daylight from the window he could not regret it. The garden outside looked as ravishing as it always did; century old trees towering majestically over wonderfully kept lawns.
She would have loved the garden.
His fingers ran carelessly through his silvery blonde locks as a shuddering breath escaped from his parted lips. The image of her had chased forbidden feelings out of their secure hiding place, leaving him with his eyes closed, trying to focus on the task ahead. Another dreadful dinner with a woman of pure lineage, perfect manners, flawless features and no mind of her own. In other words... another dinner with someone else than her.
It was all for his mother. Everything was for her. He owed it to her, after all they had gone through when his father had been in Azkaban, and even worse...when he hadn't been in Azkaban. She was the only one he had left, and after all he had gone through to keep them both safe, he couldn't turn on her now. He could not go against her will and find a woman whom she did not approve of, and he would continue to go on these ridiculous dinner set-ups as long as it pleased her.
He remained standing by the window, contemplating what life would be like if things were different, but at the same time accepting that they were not. That's how she found him when she entered, her hair pulled back in an elegant twirl and magnificent magenta dress robes complementing her pale complexion and almost white-blonde locks. Her small hand fell to rest on his shoulder as she studied his stony expression, his silver orbs closed off to the world.
"She is a very kind and intelligent girl, if I may say so. I thoroughly enjoy her company, and I believe you will too," she said quietly, turning her gaze towards the garden.
"I'm sure I will," he replied noncommittally.
He happened to enjoy their company more often than not. It wasn't that they were unpleasant or unbearably ignorant. They were often quite intelligent and sweet women, but what they were was rarely a problem. It was more what they weren't. He couldn't force himself to feel anything, no matter how perfect their golden blonde hair was, how unbelievably rich their pureblood parents were, how soft their skin was when he kissed their hand in greeting or how much they tried to catch his gaze during dinner. It used to be all that mattered to him once upon a time. Now he could barely give them a second thought, even if he knew they would run up the stairs to his old bedroom if he as much as snapped his fingers.
Two weeks ago he had endured dinner with his mother and Jenny Mayford. The Mayfords had always been in contact with the Malfoys, and he had known Jenny since the day she was born. The fact that he could actually remember the day she was born, since she was 5 years younger than him, unnerved him slightly. After all, he was turning 23 and she had barely reached 18. She had always been charming, a firework of a girl who everyone adored, perhaps particularly the men. And he couldn't blame them. She was a beauty, but more importantly.. she was real and individual, but she was like his sister; his very charming and witty little sister. When he hugged her goodbye he could tell by her caring smile that she knew how he felt, and he knew that she had never expected otherwise.
The list went on, even if none of them held as special a place as Jenny. Some were quite pleasant and interesting dining companions, while others were horrendously boring and reminiscent of Pansy. But no matter how sweetly they smiled at him, he would merely kiss their hand goodbye and turn without a second look. Some time ago they would have been everything he wished for, but not anymore. Not after she penetrated his mind so thoroughly, refusing to loosen her hold.
A squeeze from his mother's hand awoke him from thought and he turned carefully towards her, forcing a smile onto his lips.
"I think I heard the bell," his mother announced, looking towards the dining room. "She has arrived, and quite on time too."
He knew Tipsy was taking care of their guest's arrival, and he followed his mother's slim figure into the large dining room decorated in gold and deep purple for the occasion.
"Be nice," his mother warned as she opened the glassdoors.
Be nice? Since when did his mother need to tell him to behave? He was always the epitome of manners whenever she hosted these encounters, and he felt slightly offended by her chastising. A feeling of perplexity rose as he watched his mother stand straight by the open glass doors, her lips pulled in an abnormally smug smile. Something was not right.
The moment Tipsy arrived in front of them announcing the guest, he knew why his mother had so uncharacteristically told him to be nice. Because there she stood, nervously clutching a small, pearly white purse. She was biting her rosy red lips as her eyes searched him out immediately. He knew his jaw had dropped several inches, but he could not care.
"So very pleased to see you, Hermione," his mother greeted with a wide smile holding out her perfectly manicured hand.
"Delighted to be here, Mrs. Malfoy," she replied in a hushed voice, her simple, black cocktail dress moving gently against her thighs as she leaned in to take the outstretched hand.
"Narcissa," the female Malfoy insisted as she put a gentle hand on Hermione's back guiding her further into the room.
All he could see was her perfect vision moving towards him, a gentle smile making its way to her face as their eyes met. Seeing her after all this time was like having the breath punched out of him, and he found himself heaving for air as the two women closed in.
"Granger," he croaked, giving an awkward cough when he heard how pitiful it sounded.
"Malfoy," she greeted in return, amusement making her eyes twinkle oddly.
"Draco," his mother chastised after a moment of silence, and she frantically gestured towards Hermione.
Of course... he had completely forgotten the bloody manners he was supposed to uphold. He actually found it quite awkward to be so formal around her. They never had been formal, not as enemies, nor as allies. Nevertheless, he had duties to perform in the presence of his mother. He took a step forward and took her small hand in his. His eyebrow quirked questioningly when she jerked slightly, and as he lowered his head towards her hand his eyes remained locked with hers. When his lips made contact with the warm flesh of her hand he saw her blush, and he tried to suppress the leap his heart had decided to make in the heat of the moment. He immediately straightened up and let go of her hand, looking towards the set table.
"Welcome to the Manor," he said, in a slightly automatic tone. "My mother and I are delighted to have you for dinner."
Instead of replying she set her stern eyes in him, her eyebrows shooting up towards her hairline.
"I don't need your prepared lines, Draco," she told him firmly. "Just you will do."
Against his will, the corner of his mouth pulled upwards and he heard his mother chuckle brightly.
"Alright, I had no idea you were coming," he said, giving his mother a scolding look as he admitted this.
Hermione just grinned. "Well, that was after all the plan."
"The plan?"
It quickly became apparent that his mother had chosen to ignore his questioning outburst thoroughly. She had put her small hand on Hermione's back, steering her gently towards the set table. He gave in and followed, his eyes locked on the two women.
"We are just about ready for dinner," she told their guest. "Please take a seat."
The scene was familiar to him. The table was magnificently set, the smell of an exquisite meal hung in the air, his mother was seated across from him with a female guest by her side. It was the image he had been subjected to for weeks on end, yet it felt different today. Today he was staring straight into the pair of soft, honey-coloured eyes that had haunted him for a year. Today the smile appearing on the face before him warmed him to the very roots of his soul. Today he could feel his heart beating in his chest, painfully aware of his own body and mind. Today mattered.
He was fleetingly aware of Tipsy and two other house elves serving the meal. The delicious fragrant of it reached him, but his mind was elsewhere. He was busy watching her giving Tipsy a smile before picking the right fork delicately off the table. It rested neatly in the nook between her thumb and forefinger, caressing her creamy skin as she lowered it onto her plate. He couldn't tear his eyes away as she brought it back up and leaned in just an inch. Her lips closed around it before it slipped out again, and her eyes fell shut as she hummed her approval.
He had claimed those lips only once. Only once, and the taste of them still lingered on him. When he lay in bed at night the tip of his tongue would dart out to feel the imprint of the forbidden affection. It was so bittersweet. His words, her words, the realisation that it had ended before it begun and then the kiss; the moment of pure bliss followed by a harsh fall into reality's merciless chill. I understand, she had said, I really do. She had understood him, understood his need to put family first no matter how much he had to sacrifice. I don't want to, but I need to do this. I need to put family first, for once. And she had nodded, reached out to run her finger across his cheek. She had let him go, and he loved her all the more for it. And then that kiss... that kiss that was everything. Their first, their last, their closure.
How he had found the strength to leave was a mystery he often revisited, but he never found an answer. Perhaps it was the thought of his mother, maybe it was the wish to keep them both safe or maybe it was the hope that somehow, just somehow the kiss wouldn't be their last after all.
"Draco, please do eat."
He looked away from the point he had fixed his eyes upon while lost in thought and turned towards his mother. A soft smile rested on her face, and she nudged towards Hermione who was eating with vigor, savoring every last bite. His lips pulled reluctantly into an amused smile, and he forced himself to join in on the meal. He noticed how his mother would turn to Hermione and ask encouraging questions, often leaving Hermione in a long explanation, her eyes bright with enthusiasm. He was enthralled by her, the way she seemed to pull people in, to make them devour her every word in hunger.
What surprised him was that his mother seemed to be of the same opinion. She seemed equally absorbed in Hermione's words, her eyes locked on the girl's figure as she gestured wildly with her fork in hand. She was different than their usual companions, that was for sure. He felt a certain perplexity at this thought. Because she was truly different from their normal companions, and he could not understand why his mother had invited her. She couldn't possibly know, could she?
"How have you been?" she suddenly asked, a curl whipping across her face as she turned towards him abruptly.
He nearly jerked at the unexpected question, having been completely content with merely observing the two women interact. Putting his fork down, he swallowed and glanced around in uncertainty.
"Well, I have been running the Malfoy family businesses," he told her, silently adding as expected of me bitterly in his own mind. "It takes a lot of my time, but mother and I meet at least once a week to make sure I don't fall out of the social scene completely."
She nodded, doing that thing she always did. That thing where she would plant her large, consuming eyes of hers on you, looking as if your words was what made her able to take another breath.
"Other than that, I am afraid my life is rather boring," he said, allowing a familiar smirk to flicker across his face. "No missions, dangerous cover-operations or stake outs."
She smiled widely at that, shaking her head slowly. "The crazy part is that we miss it, isn't it?"
He was taken by surprise. Quite frankly, he had thought he was the only one unstable enough to actually miss the time of war.
"Miss the cold nights hiding out in forgotten caves, the raging battles with adrenaline pumping through you and the feeling of fearing for your life at any given moment? We must indeed be insane."
She inclined her head and gave a short laugh. "When we have been used to fearing for our lives almost every minute of the day, a normal life seems pretty mundane."
"It's difficult to part from that mindset of constant awareness," he agreed. "And I suppose I also miss the feeling of making a difference, and being united against a common cause. There's a certain feel of loyalty that nothing but being on the same side in a fatal conflict can conjure."
At this, she merely watched him for a few seconds before reaching for her goblet. She carefully took a sip, and then turned to him again.
"You didn't have to leave, you know."
He rose his eyebrow questioningly, waiting for an explanation.
"You didn't have to alienate yourself from the Order even if the war is over. There's still loyalty, even if Voldemort isn't threatening our lives anymore."
He couldn't quite meet her piercing eyes, knowing she was one of the few who could look right through him if he wasn't careful.
"I believe we have already discussed this," he said softly, not particularly wanting to bring it up.
"And I still understand," she replied, raising her chin slightly as her gaze never wavered from his face. "But I still wish it could be different."
A sharp pain stung harshly in his lungs after his hasty intake of breath. The sudden flicker of pain in her eyes had taken him by surprise, and he was reminded of his biggest weakness once more; he couldn't stand to see her in pain. It had killed him to see her wounded from battle, or crying after a fight with Potter or Weasley. And it killed him to see a fraction of the pain he caused her now.
Unfortunately, his own pain was clearly visible on his face, something his mother could not help but notice.
"Draco," she said quietly, making him avert his gaze from Hermione. "I have been inviting you to these dinners because I have been wanting to cheer you up."
He found this immensely ironic, since he came to them only to keep her cheered up.
"It soon dawned on me, however, that it did not work at all. And it puzzled me, because female company used to be the only sure way to make you feel better."
Wonderful. She made him sound like some female-obsessed pig.
"And it was just recently that I understood what the problem was," she told him, a slight smile appearing as she watched his confused expression. "It wasn't that you didn't enjoy the female companion, it was just that it wasn't the right female."
He gulped. "How on earth did you reach that conclusion?"
"Did you expect your own mother to never find the picture hidden in the drawer of your desk? You know my true passion is snooping around."
This made him smile sheepishly while her laughter rang out into the large room. He hadn't really thought his mother was cheeky enough to go through his desk, but he was evidently quite mistaken.
Hermione looked confused through all of this. "What picture?"
"I thought you were supposed to be the brains of the operation," he remarked with a smirk, leaning back in his chair somewhat awkwardly.
His mother shot him a stern look, before reaching out to take Hermione's hand in hers. Hermione looked down on their entwined hands in a state of shock that quite mirrored his own.
"Your picture, love," she replied softly, giving her hand a slight squeeze. "And while my son has undoubtedly tried to shield me from what he presumed would be yet another burden on my shoulders, I want to say to the both of you that I think you are a remarkable woman. And I would never stand in the way of my son's happiness, nor do I see any need to stand in the way of anything between you and my son."
He couldn't even blink. His brain could not get a single muscle to move. In a single second, his entire world had turned around completely. He had gone from sacrificing love for family, to getting the blessing of the very family he had thought would cut him off. Her large eyes told him she was equally rattled, their awed expression was fixed on his mother, and he suddenly noticed her lower lip giving a hardly noticeable tremble.
Narcissa gave her hand a final, reassuring squeeze before rising slowly from her chair. Her plate immediately vanished into thin air, and she stepped away from the large table now only occupied by the two people who pretended to be so much less than they really were. In her wake an eerie silence reigned, both of the two too stunned to speak. Hermione finally rose her head to meet his gaze, and he was immediately surprised by the emotions she could not hide from running across her face. He stared back, suddenly scared of what the new circumstances meant... and frightened by the force of his own feelings.
It was several wordless moments later that he saw them. They gathered behind her eyelids before spilling gently onto her skin, each of them running silently down her flushed cheeks. The sight of them made him snap out of his motionless slumber, and before he had the time to question his own judgement he was by her side, holding out his hand towards her small figure. When her hand was gently placed in his own he nearly sighed, but he bit his lip and pulled her smoothly out of the chair.
They remained silent as she let him guide her through the winding hallways of the Manor. His well-known and her timid steps echoed together off the walls as he grasped her hand tighter, perhaps without even noticing. He couldn't ignore the feel of her skin under his, her fingers entwined with his own. It was so overwhelming, but at the same time not enough. It was more of her than he had experienced in a long time, but it was not as much as he suddenly needed desperately. He suspected he could be drowning in her and still not have enough.
She didn't question their journey or destination. All she did was follow his lead, the silvery substances still caressing her face, though slower and calmer than earlier. There was nothing about her that exuded sadness, he noticed. Instead, she appeared calm, in a serene sort of way. He couldn't help but let a small smile sneak onto his lips.
The garden had never looked quite as perfect as it did the moment he lead her onto the meticulously mowed lawns. It had always lacked one thing... her. Now the garden was nothing short of perfection. In fact, you could probably take away the garden, leave only her and it would still be equally perfect.
He was still frighteningly aware of her hand in his, still clutching onto each other for dear life. It was something about holding her hand like that. It was such an everyday thing, but for them it was revolutionary, world-altering, even. He kept his eyes locked on them as he moved backwards, further into the maze of tremendous magical trees.
Even as he focused on her hand, he could feel her eyes resting on him, and he looked up to meet a soft smile drawn by the lips that could so easily make him go crazy. The thought alone made him reach in and steal a taste from them, savouring the sweet taste still so fresh in his mind. He didn't linger on her lips long. Instead, he pulled away, opening his eyes to see her standing with her eyes still closed and her blissful smile still intact.
Before he could admire the image any further, she snaked her free arm around his neck and pressed him closer. She claimed his lips in a hungry kiss, more urgent and desperate than anything they had ever shared. He couldn't think about anything else than what he held in his arms, his blood racing through his body at what felt like unearthly speed. It was unexplainable to him that she could do this with a simple kiss, with her lips pressed closely against his and her body steadily arching closer.
When she pulled away he instantly missed her, wondering how the bloody hell he ever lasted a year without this magnificent witch. The thought of letting her leave this moment for him not to see her for another year was ridiculous, and how it had ever made sense he could not know.
He was distracted from his admiration by her gentle fingers running through his hair.
"It's longer," she commented with a crooked smile.
The words hung oddly in the air between them, breaking the silence that had reigned for Merlin only knew how long. He just nodded in reply, inwardly shivering at her soft touch.
"I've been working with your mother for the past couple of weeks," she revealed, inclining her head slightly to the side. "She has been involved in one our charity events. I work with the organization for war survivors."
He nodded distantly, enjoying the caress of her breath as she spoke.
"She invited me here with the plan of surprising you. She hinted, and I assumed, that it was because she didn't want you to lose contact with the Order," she said, ending the sentence with a short chuckle. "I guess she played me too."
"She likes to meddle," he said, rolling his eyes, but keeping his affectionate smile. "I have to admit this is the only time I have been pleased she did."
He hugged her tightly to him, making her head come to rest on his shoulders. As she let out a content sigh, her breath tickled his neck, sending strings of pleasure through his every limb.
"I guess I'm going to have to cancel my date tonight," she commented, a smile visible in her tone.
"Your date?" he retorted, leaning back to look at her.
"Ginny set me up on a blind date," she said, sighing heavily, telling him this wasn't the first time her friend had set her up. "Going out for drinks... with what Ginny considers a catch. They're all Harry clones, for God's sake."
He gave a snort of laughter, his chest vibrating under her touch.
"Well, you're mine today."
"And tomorrow," she said, her voice muffled against his shirt.
"And the next day?"
"And the next day..."
Perfect shadows lie behind us
And this is the day I make you mine
A/N 2: Hope you enjoyed another little piece of D/Hr (can we ever get enough of it? I dare say we won't!). Please review if you found something you liked (or didn't like, for that matter). Also, you should check out Joshua Radin's music. His songs are a massive inspiration for me. :)


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OLAK Steel furniture is one of Sri Lanka's leading manufacturer of steel furnitures with a global presence. Innovative design, quality products and affordable prices, a combination that is almost impossible to find. That's what OLAK Steel stands for
In just a few years of its existence, OLAK Steel furniture has carved a niche for itself in the Sri Lankan market for steel office furniture and steel Home Furniture in Sri Lanka and today, is one of the key players in the organized retail furniture sector
|Why select OLAK Steel for your steel furnitures


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It's that time of year, when we reach out and ask all of our supporters for their contributions. The time is certainly now: we need private funding more than ever to ensure we can keep providing these services. It's only together that we save lives and offer hope when there is nowhere else to go. Without your gift we could not continue to offer our services. Please donate before we reach the end of 2016 and welcome a new year with optimism and community involvement.
Dear Concerned Community Member,
I recently had the opportunity to spend time with a young man we will call E.S., who, thanks to you, is on his way to getting his life back on track at the Lowell Transitional Living Center (LTLC). As E.S. shared his story about family and love, struggle and shame, what stood out to me the most was his depiction of the forces driving him forward.
"I told myself that first night, I'd rather die than sleep outside again…"
Eddie told me about his early years in an unstable home, serving as a primary caretaker of his younger brother until he left for college. Substance abuse ran in his family, and he hoped that distance from home would prevent him from finding trouble. Eddie worked hard, asserted and harnessed his leadership skills, and was named captain of his college baseball team, but he carried guilt surrounding leaving his younger brother behind. After graduating Eddie returned home and his behavior slipped into self-proclaimed denial. He didn't realize that his excessive college drinking was a symptom of a drinking problem and then things fell apart.
"I was predisposed to addiction, but I didn't think I was born an addict. I didn't see my behavior mirroring my family's…"
E.S. made many attempts to get on track. He started a family and had a son. He enlisted and served in the Army. Even with these opportunities, he could not maintain a successful or stable life. He lost family connections, his job, and his home, and found himself alone and on the streets. His story is all at once unique to him and shared by many others.
"I got honest with myself and put the self-pity and ignorance aside. This isn't the legacy I want to leave my son."
LTLC has an open door for people like Eddie who want to end life on the streets. Our staff treats each person looking for help with dignity as we offer stability, housing solutions and life skills for a better future. Everyone at LTLC is fighting for Eddie, and for all of those who face life-changing hardships – loss of a home or job, a health crisis, divorce, and for some like Eddie, the tremendous weight of addiction. No one should have to beg for support or feel emotionally crippled by life on the streets.
"I can honestly say I'm blessed and grateful to be here."
E.S. is not alone. LTLC works with over 1300 adults every year, bringing stability to their lives by addressing health concerns, helping to secure income and employment, and most importantly to find and maintain housing. We restore dignity through compassionate human interaction, the provision of clothing you'd share with your own neighbors, and nutritional, healthy food.
When I start to see the first snowflakes, my thoughts increasingly turn to those in need, like E.S., who once faced or who are currently facing cold nights and uncertainty. The upcoming season of giving also stirs feelings of deep appreciation at LTLC for the year-round gifts we receive from supporters like you. As the ice and snow form a white blanket over the city in the coming weeks and months — our staff, volunteers, board members, and you, our valued supporter, form the multiplying power of a community that comes together to effectively solve the problem of homelessness.
Can we count on your financial support this year? Your annual or monthly gift will directly impact the lives of people in critical need in the Merrimack Valley by providing social services, medical care, employment, education assistance, help with personal finances and the basic necessities of clothing, food, and shelter. Please help us on our mission to end homelessness.
Thank you from everyone at LTLC,
P.S. Everyone who makes a donation, hosts a drive, or volunteers this December will have their contribution on a snowflake on our dayroom wall (contact firstname.lastname@example.com to learn more and include your personal message of hope to our clients).
LTLC Board: Gary Baker, President • Annmarie Galli, Vice President • Ellen Breen, Treasurer • Philip Maynard, Clerk • Larry Beane, Attorney • Sean Moriarty • Georgianna Harris • Michael Szabados • Patricia Cox • Joan Nickerson • Virginia Crocker Timmins
Staff: Jayde Campbell, LICSW, Director • Jennifer Sagalyn, Director of Development • Elizabeth Higgins, Case Management Supervisor • Tameika Thomas, Triage Supervisor • Janet Barsorian, Food Services Manager


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{brazilian rosewood}
Thursday 24th July, 2008
by Roséline
5 Notes
suzygirl — how lovely to have so much Brazilian Rosewood in your home.
grannysmithgreen — your piano sounds gorgeous — will check out the tag.
i love the floaty look. and rosewood is so gorgeous.
I have an 1855 rosewood piano and just love the graining and color. It makes polishing a pleasure! I have tagged you too! Granny Smith Green
Sooo ridiculously beautiful!!
I ADORE Brazilian Rosewood…it's in my living and dining room.
Thank you for stopping in to say hello — it's lovely to hear from you!
Just a few things:
Comments are moderated for spam. Please be certain to include your website url in the space provided, and not in the body of your comment. xo


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Posted by Wemabod multiservices - VERIFIED EMPLOYER VERIFIED16 Mar 11:17 pmIkeja, Lagos
MEDICARE HEALTH SERVICES is currently in need of a qualified personnel to fill the above position.
Panning and carrying out trials
tracking environmental micro-organism development
growing microbe cultures
developing new pharmaceutical products, vaccines, medicines and compounds such as antiseptics
collecting samples from a variety of locations
recording, analysing and interpreting data
writing research papers, reports and reviews
keeping up-to-date with scientific and research developments
ensuring that data is recorded accurately in accordance to guidelines
observing high health and safety standards
inspecting food and drink manufacturing processes to check for possible contamination
Managing laboratories
BSc in related field.
Mode of application interested applicant should forward their resume
Stay safe!
Watch out for:


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700 Journals and 15,000,000 Readers Each Journal is getting 25,000+ ReadersThis Readership is 10 times more when compared to other Subscription Journals (Source: Google Analytics)
Alka Kriplani
Alka Kriplani
All India Institute of Medical Sciences,
New Delhi
Alka Kriplani professor at All India Institute of Medical Sciences, New Delhi and Researcher at the Talwar Research Foundation, a Scientific and Industrial Research Organization (SIRO) recognized by DSIR, Govt of India. SHe was Professor & Head Biochemistry, AIIMS 1965-83, Jawaharlal Nehru Fellow 1979-81, Scholar-in Residence National Institutes of Health Bethesda 1982-86, Founder Director, National Institute of Immunology 1983-94, Wellcome Professor Johns Hopkins Baltimore 95, Prof. of Eminence International Centre of Genetic Engineering & Biotechnology 1994-99, Director Research Talwar Research Foundation 2000 onwards.
|Research Interest
Mother Health, Woman Sexually Transmitted Diseases, Woman Mental Health,Herbal Suppliments,Sinus Infections,West Nile virus infection,Herbal Medicine for Eczema,Spectrum Pathology
Global Speakers in the subject
Global Experts in the subject


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Steelers QB Leftwich Breaks Arm
August 28, 2011 by staff
Steelers QB Leftwich Breaks Arm, The Steelers are set at quarterback, thanks to Ben Roethlisberger, but the identity of your backup is now in question.
Veteran Byron Leftwich suffered a broken left arm in Saturday's 34-16 victory against the Falcons. He probably will be placed on injured reserve and miss the entire season, according to the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette.
With Leftwich out of combat, the battle for the No. 2 job behind Roethlisberger will be between aging Charlie Batch and fourth-year man Dennis Dixon. The two had been fighting for the third quarterback position. Now is therefore likely that the roster.
Leftwich, to begin his ninth NFL season, had been a starter in the Jaguars, Falcons and Bucs. In 2003 first-round pick from Marshall played a game in Pittsburgh last season, his second season with the Steelers.
Please feel free to send if you have any questions regarding this post , you can contact on
Disclaimer: The views expressed on this site are that of the authors and not necessarily that of U.S.S.POST.


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Guy Kawasaki hosted the Startups 2006 Panel which discussed important issues to creating innovative internet companies.
I found distribution to be an especially interesting topic. See details in my blog post below. Guy just blogged giving his thoughts on the subject.
Tags: [Guy Kawasaki, Churchill Club, Startups, Reid Hoffman, Distribution]


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Civil War By Abbie: Question Preview (ID: 26882)
Below is a preview of the questions contained within the game titled CIVIL WAR BY ABBIE: Civil WAR .To play games using this data set, follow the directions below. Good luck and have fun. Enjoy! [print these questions]
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after the cotton gin was created.......
|a) slavery grew in the south
|b) slavery stopped
|c) nobody bought the cotton gin
|d) slavery decreced by 50%
the north economy was based on
|a) manufactucing
|b) agricultures
|c) slaves
|d) all of the above
the south reliyed on
|a) slaves
|b) agriculture
|c) the north
|d) nothing
the north and south didn't like...
|a) states rights
|b) tariffs
|c) slaves
|d) a and b
what did the Missouri compromise do?
|a) determine how slavery would stop
|b) stop slavrey
|c) determine what states would be free and what states would not.
|d) stop slaves from esaping
what did nat turners rebilon do?
|a) make slaves free
|b) make southers pass laws to control free and enslaved blacks
|c) kill slave owners
|d) c and b
what was john browns raid?
|a) he helped nat turner
|b) was a conducter on underground railroad
|c) trreid to move slavery to the north
|d) he tried to attack a army post at harpers ferry
what was the attack on fort sumpter
|a) abarham lincoln gave a southern fort to the northeners and the south fouhgt to get it back and won
|b) the beginng of the civil war
|c) president lincons murder
|d) a and b
how man early battels did the union or north win
|a) 5
|b) 28
|c) 0
|d) 4
how many early battles did the confedrate or south win
|a) 3
|b) 40
|c) 6
|d) 9
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"If you touch that olive tree, you will say that you are touching a tree. But I will hear through its veins the buzz of the centuries that formed it". This is how Greek writer Pieridis described oleaster, a wild olive tree that according to Greek myth used to grow in Olimpus, near the Temple of Zeus. Nowadays, oldest recorded olive tree in the world is located in Crete, Greece. Although scientists can not be absolutely sure, its age is estimated between 3000 and 5000 years and still remains alive, fructifying until today. Symbol of immortality, perennial tree, strong and proud, resembles man in the resistance and defiance against the harsh conditions of the times.
Did you know that you can find old olive trees in Albania as well? Their fruit is somehow bigger than rice. The older and wilder the tree, the smaller it's fruit according to experts. "Wild trees were the past, but they can be the future" olive industry expert Dhimiter Panajoti explains in an interview for AgroWeb. According to Panajoti, the wild olive tree is used for the pollination of other olives. "The quality of oil produced by the wild olive tree is limited, hence insufficient regardless of its excellent values. This oil is rich in unsaturated fats acids" he says. Wild olive trees grow in all areas of Albania that are popular for the production of olive oil.
According to Mr Panajoti, these trees can be found in the districts of Tirana, Durres, Elbasan and Shkoder, but the most distinguished trees are those in the southern areas of the country. "In Kakome, you can find entire forests of wild olive trees, but nobody is interested in their processing. We are dealing with remote and not preserved areas" he says. Wild olive trees are highly resistant to draught.
"Climate changes and heat waves represent high risk to vegetation, hence risking production. Spain has adopted a national strategy on climate changes and included the use of wild olive trees to deliver new plants that are resistant to draught and go ahead with production even in the strongest heat waves" he told AgroWeb.
People of Elbasan call wild olive trees as the grand parent of olives. The oil extracted from these trees is used in medicine since 100 kg of wild olives are only able to produce 10 liters of oil. Oil factories that produce wild olive oil are limited.
There is high demand for such olive oil regardless of the expensive price.
Fatmir Skilja, is a distinguished olive oil producer in Elbasan. He told AgroWeb that this year he plans to go back to producing wild olive oil. "In Elbasan we do not call it wild olive, but oleaster. In our farm we are able to collect 60-70 kg, but if we buy from other farmers as well, we can reach up to 300-400 kg. Production quantity is low. We produce 6-7 kg of oil from 100 kg of olives" he said.
Mr Skilja explains that the oil previously produced by wild olives had a strong flavor and color. According to Mr Skilja, tests conducted in Greece revealed that the oil has fantastic values and is also considered a 'super cure'
"Costs might be higher, 3-5000 Lek/liter, but its value is extraordinary" he concluded.
Wild olive oil - the ultimate superfood
Wild olive oil has these compounds in multiples and hence belongs in the category that protects the blood lipids from oxidative stress according to EU Regulation 432/2012.
With such density, a spoonful a day is all that is needed to provide maximum health benefits.
The extraction procedure (first cold pressed extraction) ensures maximum quality and high bioactive value: the olives are taken to the mill the same day, so the fruit has become oil in less than 24hours.
Wild olive oil is a unique super food. It can be used in food, as a more than extra virgin olive oil, but also as a supplement eaten raw in the morning.
When properly selected, harvested and pressed, wild olive oil contains very high concentrations of two pharmaceutically important substances: Oleocanthal (the chemical that gives the best quality olive oil its peppery taste in the back of the throat) and oleacein. In addition to their anti-oxidant properties, their ability to lower blood cholesterol levels and their strong anti-inflammatory action, oleocanthal has been proven to contribute significantly to brain health and help to prevent Alzheimer's. Research has shown that oleocanthal is able to bind with harmful neurotoxins in a way that stops them attacking neurons and makes it easier for those toxins to be cleared by antibodies. Because of that ability, there is strong evidence that the regular consumption of olive oil rich in oleocanthal can prevent the degradation of the brain tissue that causes Alzheimer's.
One 14-year-long study of 1,880 elderly people in New York found that those taking a high oleocanthal diet had a 40% lower chance of developing Alzhimer's.
Research at the Kapodistrian University in Athens, Greece, show that the wild olive oil has the highest concentration of oleocanthal, i.e. 528 mg/kg (compared to the average concentration of 99 mg/kg in other olive oils). The concentration of oleacein is 194 mg/kg (compared to an average of 48 mg/kg).
Another important chemical in wild olive oil is oleuropein aglycon, which is known to have a cardioprotective, neuroprotective and anti-cancer properties.
Another beneficial chemical found in wild olive oil is ligstroside aglycon, present in wild olive oil in world-record levels of 371 mg/kg.
Wild olive oil has four times more of the therapeutic elements than the average for the best olive oils.
The other benefits of wild olive oil
• Reduces the harmful blood cholesterol (LDL)
• Aids the cardiovascular system by reducing blood pressure and preventing thrombosis
• Contributes to good bone development in young children by aiding the absorption of calcium
• The high concentration of vitamin E helps counteract the effects of ageing
• Calms the stomach and helps prevent the formation of ulcers or gastroenteritis
• The oleic acid in olive oil helps prevent the sort of genetic mutations that can lead to cancer
• Helps regulate the metabolism and is particularly useful in the treatment of diabetes.
In the ancient world, wild virgin olive oil was called "liquid gold" by Homer and "the great healer" by Hippocrates. Why has this mythic image been forgotten?/agroWeb.org


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