Sep. 2nd, 2008

dramaturgy: ([SA] Everything we touch is dust.)
Title: Is It a Kind of Dream
Characters/Pairings: Melchior/Wendla.
Word Count: 1,081.
Rating: G.
Summary: Melchior swallowed and looked back up at her. "May I...?" He let the question hang in the air as he tentatively held out his arms.
"Of course! Oh, Melchi, you must," Wendla immediately agreed and began to shift so that she could hand Melchior their son.
Author's Notes: Fluff. I'm not even going to dress it up as something else. But it's the first thing outside of [livejournal.com profile] fathersandsons that I've worked on in the last year that I feel comfortable posting. (But if you're also into werewolf-centric HP fic laden with politics, deep magic, thematic surprises, the generation gap, proof that adults aren't perfect, and OCs, you should check that out too, bbs!) Besides, [livejournal.com profile] thinkatory has been spreading lies about me loving bloodshed and gore now. I have a reputation to maintain.
Disclaimer: I don’t own it, but I kind of wish I did because then I could at least have a little bit of say in how they’re going to do the movie adaptation. Uhh. I mean. I don’t own it, go Wedekind/Sater/Shiek! >_> Title is from "Bright Eyes" by Art Garfunkel, perhaps more famous for its part in the cartoon adaptation of Watership Down than it ever will be for being on repeat while I was stringing this together.

Sleep was not something Melchior was expecting to find… )

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