Some day, this will be a "Last.fm/NetFlix/Amazon for web fiction" (both original and fanfiction) where you can search across many different hosting sites or rate what you've read and get recommendations. However, life keeps throwing more urgent projects my way, so I don't know when it'll be ready.
Story Rating:
“It’s not fair, Harry. Why can’t I snog you senseless? Why did you have to die?” Hermione was fighting sleep to be with the boy she loves.
“I’m a tragic hero, ‘Mione. We’re not allowed to have happy endings.” Harry began to float over the bed. Whether Hermione was asleep or not, it would be time to say hi to Gabby soon.
“I don’t believe in fairy tales, Harry. You are what you make of yourself.” Her eyes were only half open.
“You don’t believe in fairy tales? You are a witch, aren’t you? Are you sure that there isn’t a jolly old wizard living way up north who owns hundreds of house elves and casts charms on every child to know when they’ve been bad or good? He could be Lord Claus of the Ancient and Noble House of Claus or something.” By the end of his response, Harry was whispering to her. Her eyes were almost closed.
“Saint Nicholas, Harry… he was… Bishop of… Turkey…” And she was out.
“Sweet dreams, Love.” Harry smiled. Of course they would be. He’d be in them to make sure of it.
The Little Veela that Could, Chapter 5
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