Kissing the Man
An ugly, middle-aged man lies sleeping in a hospital bed. Stark contrasts mark him: black hair, white skin, eyes bruised; harsh features framed by stiff white sheets. But a hastily knit blanket — a dozen mistakes ripple through the rows — covers his shoulders. Bottle-green with silver waves.
It does nothing for his complexion.
The door opens. A curly-haired young woman enters the room, followed closely by a bodyguard of two. She walks to the man, watches him for a while, pensive. Then she bends down and sweetly kisses his lips.
He does not wake. And she spins around and hurries away.[1]
[1] An allusion to an anecdote attributed to Anne of Brittany (Colin Bingham, The Affairs of Women) or Marguerite of Scotland (Joan E. McRae, Alain Chartier: The Quarrel of the Belle Dame Sans Mercy).
Juno, this is lovely and heartbreaking at the same time. As usual, Fudge is an incompetent arse, and jockeying for office. I liked that he couldn’t break their wands, and I felt sorry for Kingsley because he had to.
Harry, Ginny, and Luna have proven themselves to be true friends, and Ron is Ron.
At least Hermione and Severus have each other, but seven years exile seems so unfair.
I’m off to Act Two. *in awe*
Beth
I had a lot of fun writing this. Especially Fudge actually coming up with something that is – in theory – right, and getting it all wrong. And of course, not even being man or wizard enough to actually follow it through. *snerk*
Thank you for reading! 🙂 I am happy you enjoy the story so far!