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Hobbits01

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  1. Thank you! I'm glad that you enjoyed it!
  2. Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations owned by JK Rowling and publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury. No copyright infringement is intended or to be infered. Word Count: 445 Driven to Freedom “She’s a beauty, isn’t she?†Sirius Black said admiringly, his eyes caressing. “How do you know it’s a she?†asked James Potter, a look of perplexity crossing his face as he scratched the back of his head. “Well, because….†Sirius stalled, unsure of how it was that he could determine gender by looking at it. “Well, she looks like a she, doesn’t she?†“I still don’t get you,†Remus Lupin added, hands shoved in his pockets, head tilted to the side. “You can’t tell. Anyways, it’s an inanimate object; it doesn’t have a…a gender.†He gave his friend a sideways look, seemingly assessing his sanity. Sirius groaned in frustration. “She’s a girl. There’s no question about it, end of discussion.†He gave the chrome handlebars a pat, leaning his weight against its seat. “Do you think that I would be so stupid as to not know what I’m getting?†“Well, actually, Padfoot,†Peter Pettigrew began, but was cut off by a death glare from the gray-eyed man. “So who’s going for the first ride with me?†Sirius asked immediately as he swung his leg over the seat. “Remus?†The man shook his head swiftly, clearly not trusting what was going to happen. “Peter? James?†The messy-haired man nodded, and climbed on behind Sirius as the engine began to roar. “You may want to hold on,†he called over the din of the bike. “It’d be…wise, mate.†“Do you have any idea how queer that would look, though?†James retorted, leaning back to avoid touching his friend. Sirius shrugged. “It’ll be your head, then.†With that, the motorcycle took off with an incredible burst of speed, instantly lifting off the ground. James was flung back, nearly toppling off, but clung to the back of Sirius’s jacket just in time to steady himself. “It flies!†he cried in utter shock, glancing down to the ground where the miniscule figures of Remus and Peter stood, staring skyward, a shell-shocked expression on their faces. James let out a brisk laugh, pumping a fist into the air. His grin was only beaten by the one that was slowly spreading across Sirius’s face as he silently marveled at the ability of the machine. It was freedom. It was relief. It was everything that he had lusted after for the many years of his life that he was trapped in the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. There were no words to describe the feeling he had; it was too great of a combination of what was joy and surprise and longing for more. And he flew among the clouds, knowing that in his hands, he held the handlebars of freedom.
  3. You are so dense, mate. And that doesn't even begin to cover it all, you conceited git.
  4. Ah! Another Charlie person! I did Charlie as well! But mine was a bit more, er, dark, like.
  5. That was really interesting. I used to read a lot of Shannon fics, but then my interest in them died out, and reading this was great. I liked this one a lot. If only it could have been longer, I wonder what it would be like. I hope that you will read mine!
  6. Thank you! I'm glad that you liked it! All that I can do is hope that it gets me somewhere....
  7. Disclaimer: I do not own, or pretend to own, and characters, places, etc. It is all property of JJ Abrams and Damon Lindelof, Touchstone, ABC, and so on and so forth. Word Count: 450 Shattered Glass and Broken Trust The small statue was right there, sitting in front of him, within arm’s reach. He knew he could crack it open and greedily take the prize inside of it, and he found that in the recesses of his mind, he wanted to. Despite the fact that he had worked so hard, so effortlessly, to free himself from the need to use the drug, he couldn’t resist the power that it still held over him, even after what he had gone through. He thought nothing of the last month: surely it was only a figment of his imagination that he had gone so long without giving in to his needs. But as he thought back to the brief moment with Claire, he realized his addiction was no joke. If in just a brief moment the longing could overpower him with such ease, what kind of man was he? Was that the reason Claire got so angry at him? Charlie picked up the rock nearest where he sat and threw it lazily at the miniature version of the Virgin Mary. The stone skimmed right past the side of her head, clipping part of the white painted plaster off the veil. His eyebrows furrowed in frustration at not being able to hit his target, but his feelings were quickly discarded as a female’s voice brought him back to reality. “Charlie?†The Australian accent was anything but foreign to him. He spun around to catch sight of a petite woman in an oversized black shirt, her dark shorts just visible. “Yeah?†he asked, the eager need to please glowing through his words. Claire paused for a moment, not wanting to ruin the civil moment between them. She looked around, trying to find something else she could do to avoid confronting him about his addiction. A display of anger, confusion, and hurt crossed her face when she saw the figurine. “John is looking for you,†she said with sudden scorn. “He says that it’s important.†“Locke?†Charlie reiterated, perplexity crossing his face. “Did he say why?†But Claire had already turned and walked away, unwilling to look at the man she had once trusted, who had recently lied to her, breaking all bonds of trust between them. He twirled back to the statue, staring straight into the black eyes that should have been offering comfort, yet were only bringing pain. Without letting himself think for a moment, he grabbed another rock off the ground, whipping it at the woman’s form. The glass pieces shattered, bathing the ground with shards of multi-colored glass. The small bags of heroin flooded out, all unharmed. Charlie leaned forwards and grabbed one, pocketing it, longing for sweet relief once again.
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