War, roses, wine, fate, death, and a house. Oh, and a happy ending. Minor slash.
"...we're just two lost souls swimming in a fishbowl, year after year..." A collection of seasonal pieces, complete with parentheses. H/D slashiness.
When your memory is something that other people play with and your mind their discarded playground, what else can you believe in besides your own reflection? Lockhart and angst, what a combination.
An essay on the prospect of revolution looming on the wizarding world's horizon. Do I have too much time on my hands? Yes...
Will a bittersweet rendezvous result in reunion or final farewell? Lucius/James.