Sweetest Are The Stolen Kisses
written by liquid mercury, Marionette and Elluxion
Liquid Mercury: We're heeeree!! Yes! Three crazy, eccentric, totally whacked-out authors bad enough when left to their own devices, drawn together by one plight! A mutual goal! A worthy cause—to get Hermione and Draco to snog! And as one, we are bigger and better, than ever before! *Muahahahaha* But yeah. The prophecy (all in verse!) was written by the ever-lovely Elluxion, and edited by the ever-lovely Mari and the not-so-lovely me. I'm proud of myself. Aren't you? Review if you are. *shoebapdeedoo*
Mari: Yes, yes... Tis still G/liquid mercury/whatever you choose to address me by. Since Mari, everyone's favorite fluffiness-opposed Mari, is too busy, let's hope she's still too busy bludgeon me to death while screaming obscenities at me for doing it wrong. Basically, she says brownie (or bonus) points and a cup of coffee to anyone who knows who Jets to Brazil is, anyone who doesn't want to be bludgeoned to death or have obscenities screamed at them should review... And my, my... isn't Aria's (and our) prologue enthralling?
Elluxion: *pokes her head in and directs to G* The format is screwed no longer. ;) *waves at readers* Later update – damn, I screwed it up even more. X_X Uploading it again.
NOTE: The format is screwed, but I/we can't do anything about it. So there.
Beware,
reader, of what you would seek,
By flipping the pages and looking at me.
Thou have found an ancient tome of the old,
Memories shall haunt you, never to flee.
A
prophecy, this is, set to times of frost,
Of the numbers twenty, and three.
Puzzling questions, rendering one lost,
Baffling creatures; confusing mysteries.
Gryffindor
and Slytherin, diverse are they,
Leaders in both, so clearly plain,
But should the two lead alone,
It would evidently be in vain.
One
with the colors of autumn,
Dark, golden, fiery flames,
The other, the essence of winter,
Calm pools of stormy grays.
The
sunlight is one's domain,
Bright, cheerful, sunny, pure.
The other prefers adversaries slain,
In the misty shadows' lure.
One's
personality opens like a flower.
Dancing, speaking, a ready smile.
The other silent, yet will not cower,
His wrath one should not rile.
This
book shall help thou guide the way,
As a candlelight, a shining star.
Help shall arrive, a gleaming ray,
But only when the battle is not far.
Separate
ends of the spectrum,
these valiant two shall be.
But in order to survive --
They have to work with thee...
The bewildered reader ran a finger down the page, yellowed with the passing of the tides. Only one question rang true in Hermione Granger's mind -- What on earth did that mean?
Dun na na na! Tune in next week (or month... or year...) to find out exactly what on Earth that did mean!
