a_t_rain: (Default)
[personal profile] a_t_rain
Parts One and Two are here. This chapter was a bear to write, in large part because Hamlet and Snape couldn't quite decide whether they wanted to be BFFs or sworn enemies. Most of the dialogue in the scene with Claudius is straight from the play; the final line is Shamelessly Ripped Off from Charles M. Schulz, as the utter randomness of it seemed to suit.

Lest anyone find Snape's reference to "playing Sherlock" too incongruous, I refer readers to [livejournal.com profile] dolorous_ett's delightful Sherlock Holmes and the Ravenclaw Codex, which suggests that Holmes may be just as well-known to wizards as Muggles. However, I have no good excuse for Hamlet's corkscrew, which is probably an anachronism.

Also, those who prefer their Shakesfic without random Harry Potter characters wandering through it should definitely check out this excellent ficlet about Poins, which [livejournal.com profile] angevin2 wrote for me.



Act Three: Sent Into England

The most difficult part of finding Polonius was losing Guildenstern. It would be a trivial matter to Summon the body, a much more complicated one to convince Guildenstern and the palace’s other inhabitants that a corpse that flew about the castle on its own was nothing out of the ordinary. Under his breath, Severus cursed the king for saddling him with a companion whose earnest desire to help was exceeded only by his ineffectiveness.

By the time Guildenstern had grown tired of roaming up and down infinite numbers of stairs, poking his nose into cupboards, and badgering Hamlet about the corpse’s whereabouts, it was broad daylight and an army of servants filled the corridors of Elsinore. Severus returned to his chamber to sleep for a few hours, reasoning that Hamlet was unlikely to choose the daylight hours to practice magic of a peculiarly complicated, dark, and dangerous nature.

He was awakened by Guildenstern knocking urgently at his chamber door.

Severus swore under his breath. “Now what?” Becoming slightly more alert, he was seized with the fear that falling asleep had been a terrible mistake. “What’s happened?”

“Severus! I cannot get from Hamlet what he did with the Lord Polonius! Did you not know that we were to report to the king an hour ago? O, I fear me he’ll be furious!”

“So report to him, idiot. Are you under the impression that you can’t make a move without me?”

“Rosencrantz and I always did everything together,” said Guildenstern. His voice was meek, but contained a touch of reproach.

“I’m not Rosencrantz. Go and talk to the king, and I’ll see what I can do to find the body. And if you really want to make yourself useful, see that you don’t let Hamlet out of your sight.”

After waiting half an hour to allow Guildenstern time to get the prince out of the way, Severus stole down the stairs into the deserted chapel, took his wand out, and cried, “Accio corpus Polonii!

The chapel doors swung open, and Polonius’s body sailed through them and came to rest at Severus’s feet. He inspected it briefly, but there were no signs of Dark magic about it; the cause of death had been a stab wound to the neck. He wondered idly why the old man had been killed; surely he was not bright enough to have deduced that Hamlet had murdered his father, but perhaps he had seen or heard something.

Severus left the body in the chapel and sealed the doors against intruders. Coming back up the stairs, he heard the king trying to cajole Hamlet into giving up his secret.

“A man may fish with the worm that hath eat of a king, and eat of the fish that hath fed of that worm.”

“What dost thou mean by this?”

“Nothing but to show you how a king may go a progress through the guts of a beggar.”

“Where is Polonius?”

“In heaven – send thither to see. If your messenger find him not there, seek him i’the other place yourself.”

Severus suppressed a snort. Perhaps Hamlet had his points, after all.

“But indeed, if you find him not within this month, you shall nose him as you go up the stairs into the lobby.”

“Go seek him there,” Claudius directed someone else – Guildenstern, presumably.

“He will stay until you find him.”

Severus entered the room and coughed. “Don’t bother, your Majesty. I’ve already found him and brought him to the chapel.”

“Well done, Guildencrantz. For this much thanks.” The king turned toward his stepson with an unctuous smile. “Hamlet, this deed – for thine especial safety, which we do tender as we dearly grieve for that which thou hast done – must send thee hence with fiery quickness. Therefore, prepare thyself. The bark is ready and the wind at help, the associates tend, and every thing is bent for England.”

Hamlet took this news in stride – or at least pretended to. “Come, for England! Farewell, dear Mother!”

“Thy loving father, Hamlet.”

“Father and mother is man and wife, man and wife is one flesh, and so, my mother.” Hamlet offered the king a smile quite as false as Claudius’s own, and departed.

Claudius sat down and buried his forehead in his hands. Severus almost felt sorry for him.

The king rallied and turned to Guildenstern and Severus. “Follow him at foot, tempt him with speed aboard. Delay it not, I’ll have him hence tonight. Away, for everything is sealed and done that tends on this affair. Pray you make haste!”

Curious, thought Severus. He was inclined to agree with Claudius that it would be a good idea to watch Hamlet closely and remove him from the palace, and although he was not looking forward to a journey into England in the prince’s company, he was aware that he was an eminently suitable guard and escort for a murderous wizard. In fact, the king’s plan was excellent – much better than he would have expected from a Muggle. But something about it troubled him.

He was packing his few possessions for England when it came to him. When, precisely, had Claudius found time to make arrangements for Hamlet’s journey to England? Had he done so in person, within the twenty-odd hours since Polonius’s death, or did the staff of servants at Elsinore include a travel agent who specialized in hustling deranged princes out of the country? Could one charter a ship at a day’s notice, even if one was a Renaissance king?

It looked very much as if Claudius had planned to get Hamlet out of the way, had perhaps even welcomed a suitable pretext, and Severus was not sure what to make of this.

He shrugged off his doubts. There was obviously no love lost between uncle and nephew, and nothing sinister about wanting to get rid of an annoying relative.

* * *

By the time they reached the ship, Severus could definitely see why anyone who had the misfortune to be related to Prince Hamlet would want to send him into England. The fool insisted on wandering off to talk to himself at some length after they ran into a party of Norwegian soldiers. He seemed to have a habit of talking to himself. Severus cast an Amplificarus charm and listened to him from a distance, shivering in the chill of nightfall. He could not make much sense of the prince’s words, but he did not seem to be thinking about the question that ought to concern him – namely, why on earth Norwegian soldiers would choose to march across Denmark if they were really planning to invade Poland.

“My lord.” Guildenstern ventured to approach the prince at last. “The ship stays for us.”

“Very like, very like,” said Hamlet vaguely. “‘Twill stay longer if we come not; the captain hath his orders as you have yours, and belike from the same commander.”

“What commander, my lord?”

“Why, God or the devil – as you will. The king is God’s regent on earth, but I know not what he may be in hell, nor yet whose servant’s servants you may be.”

Guildenstern looked meaningfully at Severus and tapped the side of his head, a gesture that clearly expressed his opinion of the prince’s sanity.

“Let’s get on with it,” said Severus. “How far is this ship, anyway?” They were crossing a broad and open plain; he could see no sign of the sea.

“Some five miles more, I think,” said Hamlet.

Five miles?” Severus asked, appalled. They had been walking for over an hour already. He resolved that if he ever returned to his own time, he would never complain about Muggle cars and trains again.

“A trifle; you would not have us bring the horses for such a distance? In any case there is no one to bring them back.” Hamlet stopped in his tracks again; a slightly twisted smile played about his lips. “I think that not all who go into England will return again. My dear friends, have you no commission from the king to that effect?”

“I have a commission from the king,” said Guildenstern. “He hath commanded that none other than the English king shall know what it imports.”

“The king must be obeyed, by all means.” Hamlet began to walk again, more briskly now as he turned into the biting wind.

* * *

When they finally arrived at the ship, the captain was furious because he had expected them some hours earlier, and had missed the chance to set sail while the winds were favorable.

Someone decided that he had to stand in the middle of a field and talk to himself,” Severus explained.

“Know’st thou not who we are?” Guildenstern asked the captain.

“I know only that the king hath commanded that we stay for three passengers, and bring them straightway to England.”

“This is Prince Hamlet, sirrah. The king is sending him into England for – for his health.”

The captain bowed low. “Your highness, forgive me if I spoke too sharply. I meant no offense.”

Hamlet looked up at the sky and whistled. “Having one’s head separated from one’s neck is very bad for the health. Or so I have heard, though it would surprise me if my uncle-father and my jailer-friends would be grieved if I suffered such a misfortune. But come, for England; be it life or death that awaits us there, I am impatient to meet it. For England!”

“We must wait upon the wind and the tide, your highness.”

“Why, can the king not command the winds? Will the sea not ebb and swell at his pleasure?”

“You know it will not, my lord,” said Guildenstern. “Will you take some rest in your cabin?” He seemed desperate to get Hamlet away from people who would gossip about his sanity, although to judge from the expression on the captain’s face, the damage was already done.

“That must be a sad disappointment for Claudius,” said Hamlet meditatively.

* * *

“What is this commission you were talking about?” Severus asked Guildenstern as soon as they had settled Hamlet into his cabin. “What are the king’s orders?”

Guildenstern shook his head. “I know not. He sealed it with the royal seal, and gave it me without another word. None but the English king may open it.”

It was some twenty-four hours before Severus had a chance to open it. Guildenstern, despite his lack of other gifts, was at least remarkably good at going without sleep.

Once the ship was at last underway, Guildenstern retired to his berth. Severus, on the other hand, cast a subtle tracing spell on the prince and willed himself to remain alert. Now that the Muggles were confined to the ship, he was sure that Hamlet would make his break for freedom.

But nothing happened until well after midnight. Fighting exhaustion, Severus slipped the packet containing the king’s commission from Guildenstern’s luggage, opened the seal with his wand, and read the letter within.

Claudius King of Denmark greeteth his most noble cousin and friend, Henry King of England, and asketh him to give good entertainment to the bearers of this commission, his right trustworthy servants Gilderstone and Rossencrast.

As England hath been our faithful tributary; and as love between our kingdoms shall flourish ever green like the mighty oak and the vine which twine together; and as several great and weighty reasons, of which we shall say more hereafter, urge the present course of action: we charge that the head of the man in their care be struck off at once with no delay, not even to stay the grinding of the axe; that he on no account be suffered to speak; and that this commission be executed with the utmost secrecy.

His name is of no consequence; know ye only that he hath plotted the blackest and vilest treasons and hath suborned the people of Denmark (for he hath a tongue full of deceit and can plead eloquently) to rebel against their rightful lord. He sheweth no remorse for his treachery; if permitted to speak in public, he will do the same again. We send this plague to you, not out of any wish to spread his foul contamination to England’s shores, but that you may preserve the health of both kingdoms by applying strong medicine. We would have done this ourself, but that the poor misguided commons have given him their love, and out of our own love to them (which urgeth that none of their blood be spilt if it can be helped), we think it best for his death to be executed without their knowledge. Further, he is near to us in blood, though not in character, and we would not have the sin of parricide on our conscience, though we have reliable intelligence that he would willingly have it upon his, and would indeed be bathing his hands in our blood at this moment, had our honorable Lord Chamberlain not prevented him at the cost of his own life.

Claudius R.

P.S. Gertrude sends her love, and we thank you for the beautiful set of wine glasses. We understand that you, too, are to be congratulated once again. I have sent a crystal punch bowl under separate cover, with my heartfelt wishes that this one will last longer than the others for your happiness.


Severus, no longer sleepy, contemplated this epistle. If, as he suspected, Hamlet had murdered his father and Claudius knew it, it seemed odd that Claudius would make no mention of this supreme crime, but had instead invented a number of others.

A board in the next cabin creaked; simultaneously, his skin began to prickle as the tracing spell became active. Hastily, he resealed the commission, extinguished the light from his wand, and settled into his berth.

He heard and felt, rather than saw, what happened next. Hamlet crept into their cabin and groped among the baggage; he removed something and returned to his own cabin with the object. Severus had already noticed a small knothole in the panel that connected the two cabins; he rose from his bunk again and pressed his eye to the wall.

Hamlet had lit a candle, a proceeding that made Severus shudder, as they were on a wooden ship. Severus could now see that the item he had stolen was the king’s commission; he read it carefully and frowned, then reached for a quill and parchment and began to write. When he had finished, he folded the parchment carefully, scraped every trace of sealing-wax from the original commission with a small knife, melted it in the candle flame, and used it to seal his own forgery, imprinting it with a ring he had taken from his finger.

It was a severe blow to his pride, but Severus realized that he had got it all wrong. If Hamlet was not completely mad, he was a Muggle. A wizard would have done the job in half the time, with much less risk.

The puzzle began to rearrange itself, and several missing pieces slid into place.

He feigned sleep again while the prince returned the forged commission to Guildenstern’s luggage. As soon as Hamlet turned his back to leave, he sprang up, cast Muffliato over Guildenstern’s berth, and seized the prince by the wrist.

“I’ve been watching you. Don’t move. Don’t try to wake anyone.”

“Unhand me.” There was a note in Hamlet’s voice which Severus had not heard before. He sounded, at last, like a man accustomed to command. “Thou forget’st thyself.”

“I think not,” said Severus, reaching for his wand. At a flick of his wrist, Hamlet’s knees buckled and he fell to the boards.

“What have you done?” the prince gasped, trying and failing to rise.

“Something I can easily undo – or not, if you choose to make things difficult. Tell me, what possessed you to put on a play about hebenon?”

How do you know about hebenon?

“That,” said Severus, “is precisely what I’ve been trying to discover about you for days!”

When Hamlet spoke again, it was almost in a whisper. “If I told you, you’d think me mad.”

“I doubt it,” said Severus. “You seem to have been taking some pains to convince the world that you’re mad, but I must say that I never believed it.”

Hamlet looked up at him dubiously, and Severus decided the time was right to release him from the spell. “Stand,” he said. “You can, now. Just don’t make any noise. Guildenstern won’t wake, but it would be better not to rouse the rest of the ship.”

Hamlet pulled himself to his feet with as much dignity as he could manage. “What means this?”

“I’ll make you a deal,” said Severus. “I will tell you all I know about hebenon – which is an enormous amount, by the way – if you will be so good as to tell me where you heard the word.”

“Very well. Come back to my cabin.”

* * *

Hamlet stood in the candlelit cabin with an expression that said, more eloquently than words, I need a drink. He took a globe-shaped bottle of wine from his traveling bag, along with a device made from a sharp piece of metal, twisted at the bottom and attached to a wooden handle. He wormed the device through the cork and, grimacing, tried to extract it by brute force.

“Wait,” said Severus. He flicked his wand at the bottle, and the cork came sailing out.

Hamlet stared. “How did you do that?”

“Answer my question first.”

“I will. But you must be the first to drink.”

“A wise precaution.” Severus performed a discreet spell to test the wine for contamination, and, when it came up negative, sipped at the glass that Hamlet handed him.

Wine was not common in Spinner’s End, and it was only the second time in his eighteen years that Severus had tasted any. The first time had been at Abraxas Malfoy’s Christmas party, where he had spent most of the evening standing in a corner, half-contemptuous and half-envious of the wealthy purebloods who seemed at ease in this society. Strangely, he felt more comfortable in the Muggle prince’s cabin – although this world was surely ten times more alien than that of Malfoy Manor. Perhaps it was because Hamlet was plainly making no effort to impress; he wore a plain traveling-cloak and his possessions were strewn every which way around the cabin. Or perhaps it was because, like Severus, he seemed to have found it more important to supply himself with books for the journey than clothes.

It was several minutes before Hamlet spoke again. “So. If I told you that I had seen my father and held conversation with him, some two months after his death, you would not think me mad?”

“I wouldn’t, no. There are several conclusions that I might draw, but madness would not be among them.”

“He told me,” Hamlet said haltingly, “or rather, his spirit told me – that his brother Claudius had taken his life – stolen on him when he lay sleeping in an orchard, unshriven and unabsolved, and murdered him by pouring poison in his ear. Cursed hebenon, he called it. That is the only time I have heard the word.”

“And so you decided to have his death acted out in front of your uncle, to force him to confess? Didn’t you see that was a foolish plan – and an incredibly dangerous one?”

Hamlet’s voice turned cold. “I have already answered your question. Answer mine.”

Severus gave a brief account of the ingredients of hebenon, the process by which it was distilled, and its effects, which were particularly painful and included coagulating the blood and covering the entire body with a leprous crust. When he got to the last bit, he noticed that Hamlet was looking very white in the face. Some absurd impulse made him say, “Forgive me. Perhaps you’d rather not know.”

“You made no offense, and I already knew the worst part. My father told me.”

“You ... er, cared for him?” Caring for one’s father had not hitherto been part of Severus’s experience, but to judge from Hamlet’s expression, it seemed a reasonable guess.

“I did. Very much. I thank you for – for explaining it to me.”

There was a short silence. Hamlet refilled their wine glasses. Severus felt profoundly uncomfortable, and decided to change the subject. “Did the king lie when he told us you killed Polonius?”

“No. I killed him, but I thought he was my uncle. I thought –” Hamlet took a gulp of wine. “Look you. My father – or a spirit in the shape of my father – bade me revenge him. I heard a rustling in the arras, and I thought it was Claudius spying – and it came to me that it would be easier if it were done quickly, and if I did not see him when I did it. I find it is a fearful thing to kill a man.”

With a jolt, Severus became conscious of the Dark Mark on his arm, which he had almost forgotten about.

“Let me ask you one more thing. Have you ever known anyone who seemed to be able to get things done much faster than anybody else? As if by magic?”

Hamlet looked surprised by the question, but almost at once he answered, “My father’s Lord Chamberlain.”

“Polonius?” It was Severus’ turn to be surprised.

“No, Polonius is useless. The man I spoke of was his father, Corambis, who was Lord Chamberlain before him.”

“Is he still alive?” Severus asked quickly.

“No, he died some eight or ten years since. He was very old. Then my father appointed Polonius to the position, but more as a favor to his father than for any merit of his own.”

That seemed to scotch any possibility that Polonius’s father had supplied hebenon to Claudius. “Have you ever noticed anything unusual about Polonius? Other than unusual obtuseness, I mean?”

For the first time, a genuine smile lightened Hamlet’s features. “If you also mean to exclude busyness, and sententiousness, and pedantry, then no.”

“What about his wife?”

“I scarcely remember her. I was a child of six when she died – no, seven, for the plague came when my father and his Lord Chamberlain were away at the wars. Corambis was furious that he was not at Elsinore. I daresay you’ll think it strange, but sometimes he was able to heal people when the physicians had given them up.”

Severus nodded; it all fit, except for one thing that still nagged at him. Somewhere at the Danish court, there was a wizard still living. “Tell me about the rest of Polonius’s family.”

“There are only the two children. I have not seen Laertes much of late; he came for the coronation, but he has been at the university in Paris these three years. His daughter, Ophelia –” Hamlet broke off and frowned. “Why am I telling you so much? I do not even know your name.”

“My name is Severus Snape. I am an Englishman. I am also a wizard, as your Corambis was; that is how I was able to disguise myself as Rosencrantz. I have reason to think your uncle Claudius is in league with another wizard or witch, and obtained the poison from this person. Your life is most likely in danger – not only from the king, but from someone with powers that you do not understand and cannot defend yourself against. Will you trust me?”

Hamlet nodded. “Strangely, I do trust you. I know not why.”

Severus hadn’t a clue why he had trusted Hamlet, either, but he told himself that he could always cast a Memory Charm on the prince if he needed to.

“Tell me about being a wizard,” said Hamlet. “Could you force a murderer to confess if you wanted to?”

“Yes, easily. It takes time to brew, but there is a potion called Veritaserum that will force anyone who takes it to tell the truth.”

“Could you bring back someone who has died?”

“No. No magic has ever been able to do that.” Severus decided to spare Hamlet a full account of the Dark Lord’s desires and experiments. This wasn’t the time or the place for it, and now that he could talk about the subject, he found that he didn’t want to.

Hamlet took a velvet purse from under his cloak. “There’s gold for thee. Thou’lt have more when I am king.”

Severus rejected the purse. The imperiousness in Hamlet’s manner reminded him of Lord Voldemort, and he responded with distaste. “I never said I would work for you, and I don’t want gold.”

“I pray you pardon me.” Hamlet’s gesture of apology seemed wholly sincere, but he rather spoiled it by being unable to resist asking, “What do you want?”

“Information to begin with. For instance...” Severus recalled the guilty start that Hamlet had given when he had first seized him. “What did you put in that letter you forged?”

Hamlet looked embarrassed. “It, ah ... well, a number of things, but the sum of it is that it asks the king to ... er, put the bearers of the commission to death. You must understand that I thought the worst of you at the time. You both seemed to be the king’s creatures, and – Know you what the real commission, the one I destroyed, orders the king to do?”

“Yes, I took the precaution of reading it just before you stole it.”

“You read it? But it was sealed.” Severus looked at Hamlet, not dignifying this statement with a response, and comprehension dawned on the prince’s face. “Oh. What of Guildenstern? Does he know?”

“No,” said Severus positively. “He’s a fool and a dupe. Did you really think the king would confide in him?”

Hamlet considered this. “No, I guess not. Uncle Claudius is too much the fox for that. Then we must needs steal the damned commission back and write out yet another one. A plaguey nuisance, when I took such pains to write it fair, and ‘tis a fine imitation of my uncle’s style, but I suppose it would be wrong to send poor Guildenstern to his death.”

Having spent a week in poor Guildenstern’s company, Severus was not so sure about this.

Hamlet drained the last of his wine, and Severus followed him to the adjoining cabin. Unluckily, the prince was rather unsteady on his feet; still more unluckily, the ship gave a great lurch just as he was about to seize the letter.

They went down in a tangle of limbs and muffled curses. Guildenstern stirred; evidently the Muffliato charm had worn off.

“Why were you fool enough to write that letter?” Severus hissed. “You should have known you’d regret it!”

“Why did you not come to me as soon as you knew the king’s orders? Any loyal subject would have done so!”

“I am not your subject! I half-suspected you of the murder!”

“You thought I killed my father? How dare you?”

“Idiot, you staged a play about a nephew murdering his uncle! Did you stop to think about how that might look to other people? But no, you were too busy trying to play Sherlock!”

“I know not what manner of game is ‘sherlock,’” said Guildenstern sleepily. “Is it like shuffle-board?”

“No,” said Hamlet and Severus, as one. “Go back to sleep.”

Severus ensured that Guildenstern did so. “Got the letter?” he asked.

Hamlet nodded.

“Let’s go.”

Suddenly, a pirate ship appeared on the horizon.

Date: 2009-01-03 02:26 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] megaton-souffle.livejournal.com
:DDDDD!! I loved this part:

Hamlet drained the last of his wine, and Severus followed him to the adjoining cabin. Unluckily, the prince was rather unsteady on his feet; still more unluckily, the ship gave a great lurch just as he was about to seize the letter.

They went down in a tangle of limbs and muffled curses. Guildenstern stirred; evidently the Muffliato charm had worn off.

“Why were you fool enough to write that letter?” Severus hissed. “You should have known you’d regret it!”

“Why did you not come to me as soon as you knew the king’s orders? Any loyal subject would have done so!”

“I am not your subject! I half-suspected you of the murder!”

“You thought I killed my father? How dare you?”

“Idiot, you staged a play about a nephew murdering his uncle! Did you stop to think about how that might look to other people? But no, you were too busy trying to play Sherlock!”

“I know not what manner of game is ‘sherlock,’” said Guildenstern sleepily. “Is it like shuffle-board?”

“No,” said Hamlet and Severus, as one. “Go back to sleep.”


I especially like that Snape is around the same age as Hamlet in this - they're both such clever yet foolish boys.

Date: 2009-01-03 02:33 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] a-t-rain.livejournal.com
Clever yet foolish, indeed :)

Canonically, Hamlet is thirty (!!!), but I think I'm ignoring that bit of canon for the time being, since Shakespeare seems to have been cheerfully inconsistent about that sort of thing anyway.

Date: 2009-01-03 03:28 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] malinbe.livejournal.com
A pirate ship!! ^_^
I loved the PS in Claudius' letter, it was priceless. Oh, I love this fic! Snape and Hamlet are so entertaining together...

Date: 2009-01-03 03:31 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] a-t-rain.livejournal.com
I adore the fact that there are Totally Random Pirates in Hamlet.

Date: 2009-01-03 03:31 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] persephone-kore.livejournal.com
I am way too amused by the phantom travel agent. :)

Date: 2009-01-03 03:40 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] a-t-rain.livejournal.com
I have no idea how one does make such arrangements, if one is Claudius, but I'm pretty sure Shakespeare didn't mean for us to think too hard about it...

Date: 2009-01-03 03:36 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] lareinenoire.livejournal.com
Oh. So much love.

He could not make much sense of the prince’s words, but he did not seem to be thinking about the question that ought to concern him – namely, why on earth Norwegian soldiers would choose to march across Denmark if they were really planning to invade Poland.

Good question. It could be like Bohemian beaches?

P.S. Gertrude sends her love, and we thank you for the beautiful set of wine glasses. We understand that you, too, are to be congratulated once again. I have sent a crystal punch bowl under separate cover, with my heartfelt wishes that this one will last longer than the others for your happiness.

Ha! Everything's better with Henry VIII jokes.

And, God, the conversation between Snape and Hamlet is brilliant; I love that you brought in Corambis and tell me Ophelia's the wizard, because that would be utterly priceless.

Date: 2009-01-03 03:46 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] a-t-rain.livejournal.com
I wonder how people who had to buy Henry VIII a wedding gift for the fifth or sixth time in a row felt about it. The man must have been swimming in tableware.

No comment on who the wizard is, but All Shall Be Revealed in the next act :)

Date: 2009-01-03 06:36 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] angevin2.livejournal.com
OMG, this fic is so brilliant. The punchbowl bit made me die. &hearts

And thank you for the rec!

Date: 2009-01-03 02:56 pm (UTC)

Date: 2009-01-03 09:45 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] themolesmother.livejournal.com
Snape and Hamlet - what a duo! The snark is glorious.

Bet it was Ophelia wot dun it :-).

Looking forward to the next episode.

MM

Date: 2009-01-03 02:55 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] a-t-rain.livejournal.com
Another vote for Ophelia, hmm? Nobody wants to back a Laertes who unexpectedly Apparated back from Paris?

Date: 2009-01-11 11:36 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] dreamer-marie.livejournal.com
I've finally caught up with this fic! It's really great. I'm looking forward to the next chapter...

Date: 2009-01-11 04:43 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] a-t-rain.livejournal.com
Thanks! (I suppose this means I should get on with writing the next chapter. Oy, I am so not ready for the new semester to begin...)

Date: 2009-05-09 09:30 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] ambrmerlinus.livejournal.com

Suddenly, a pirate ship appeared on the horizon.


Best closing sentence I've ever read.
Page generated Jul. 13th, 2025 10:15 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios