|snakeling (snakeling) wrote in snakelingsrecs,|
@ 2007-08-19 22:06:00
The war is ended, Voldemort is dead, and both Snape and Harry want nothing more than someone to shag. And preferably not a groupie.
I'm reccing this primarily because the formatting is so very original, and you can read the fic both horizontally and vertically (and no, it's not in Chinese *g*). But it's also got it all: fun lines; hot, awkward, imperfect first-time sex; fumbling! prematurely-ejaculating! top! Harry and pushy! bottom! Snape. A typical, delightful Predatrix story, it's one you read when you feel a little down and need something to cheer you up.
Snape sighed. Harry sighed. Now Voldemort was, as one might say, conclusively dissolved (and then swallowed by a nine-foot green glowing bear-thing with, according to Hagrid, a lead-lined magic-resistant stomach) he had apparently enough spare time for unproductive pointless dithering. Now Voldemort was turned into a puddle of goo for all time, and one of Hagrid's monsters had eaten the goo without even getting a stomach-ache, it gave him time to worry about other less threatening things. Well, the sorts of things that any normal 17-year-old would worry about. About sex, among other things. Like people. Well, sex, really, to be honest.