Feb. 14th, 2009

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So, it's the 14th, so I'm wishing everyone a happy Saints Cyril and Methodius Day before I go to bed.

I gather there's another holiday today as well. If you've cause to celebrate it, I hope you have a lovely time.

I'm essentially done with my SS. Cyril and Methodius Day fic, but I'd like to sleep on it and check it over before I post it. Watch this space. Or something like that. If you want to, that is.
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On the Fourteenth of February
A Harry Potter fic by Andrew yclept Aelfwine
The characters and situations of the Harry Potter series are copyright J.K. Rowling. They may not be used or reproduced commercially without permission. The use of these characters and situations is not to be construed as challenge to said copyright. They are merely borrowed for this work of non-commercial fanfiction, from which the author derives no financial benefit.
SS. Cyril and Methodius Day Fic, concentrating on the friendship between our Nargles and Hermione.
PG-13 (mostly for language and mild sexual references); 3300 words
DH (minus Epilogue) compatible
Het warning, femmeslash warning, poly warning, Ron having been a git warning, lack of explicit content warning, Cyrillic letter-shaped chocolates warning, some mention of that other holiday on the fourteenth of February warning, yours truly warning
Harry/Ginny/Luna, past Ron/Hermione implied, Lavender Brown/unnamed female implied

Hermione had almost convinced herself it was still January. Or perhaps that it was already the last week of February. She'd poured herself into work every day since practically the New Year, staying at her desk long after her staff had left for home, usually until the free Elf who cleaned her office asked if Miss Undersecretary 'Mione would mind terribly stepping outside so Winnie could clean the carpets proper-like.
Click here to read further )
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In which there is a meal, and Hermione's parents meet her new friends.

This is more of the "regular" (H/Hr/F/L) version of HNP--6240 words of it.
IOW, I've added 450 words to the end, and think this is the natural stopping point for it.
Oncle Gérard sat them in a snug in the back room of the Leaky Cauldron, and ordered a pot of tea and a plate of biscuits. “It might be more difficult, to find biscuits in a Muggle pub,” he said, “but there are some advantages to our dear Wizarding world, yes?”

“Luna,” Hermione said, once he’d left to Firecall Professor McGonagall, “my darling pet-sister, please understand something. I love you, and... you and Harry and Fleur and I know that we’re his pets. In private, just the four of us... we’ll wear our collars, and call Harry ‘Master’ and each other ‘pet-sister.’ We can even--“she blushed, but she knew she had to offer something as a bargain--“dress the way you’d like us to. In private.” She paused, not sure how to continue.
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