(no subject)

7/7/10 04:39 am (UTC)
I love my kids. I adore my kids. But this is part of a story I wrote where Snape and Harry have a baby:


Harry studied the baby closely as she lay sleeping in her crib. A trail of drool was wetting the bed linens.

"You're sure she's not possessed or anything, right?"

Snape sniffed. "My daughter is the most perfect specimen of infanthood. She simply uses the only methods available to her to convey her grievous disgust with the world."

"Really? So that whole projectile vomiting thing is normal?"
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