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crack_van2009-06-09 02:52 pm
perverse-idyll.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2009-06-09 02:52 pm
Entry tags:
Slow Convergence by Iteration by dracofiend (PG-13)
Fandom: HARRY POTTER
Pairing: Severus Snape/Harry Potter
Length: ~9,000
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dracofiend
Author Website: Walking the Plank
Why this must be read:
For the lyrical, intensely physical language. For the UST. For the sensual, claustrophobic descriptions of what it might actually feel like to have a Legilimens rifling through your mind. For the first half, with the rhythm which builds and recedes like dub con but isn't actually sexual. For the sense that Snape's going to burst out of his buttoned-down, snarling self-control at any moment. For the second half, with its wonderfully awkward, funny, tongue-tied conversations between them. For the flash of surprising tenderness.
Harry is dorky and endearing and determined. Snape is enigmatic and tight-lipped to an infuriating degree. You will ache for them both, becausedracofiend is such an incredibly artful and astute writer, a master of poetic intensity and emotional undercurrents.
“Again!” barked Snape, flicking his wand impatiently. “Legilimens!” He cast it before Harry could raise his head.
Harry twisted aside as the pressure returned, swirling scattered thoughts, fragments of memory tangled with dreams. Snape was everywhere in his mind all at once, again, again, the black figure crying again within his eyes and without while Harry strained to stop it, the sweeping wave of Snape, stop the touch and feel of—
“Focus!” Snape hissed and Harry did, on the swish of dark sleeve as it passed through the air, on the gleam of dark wand pointed at him, and it was Snape, again—again!—streaming swiftly through him like an ocean through a sieve.
“I can’t,” Harry gasped, feeling Snape there—and there—it wasn’t strange anymore, knowing Snape was there, with the curl of his mind brushing or clutching at the varied pebbles of thought. They spun by uncounted and Harry could only heave, helpless as he watched them pass into Snape, to be examined or discarded in less than half a blink.
“Your thoughts are your own,” Snape growled at him, even as he delved to the bottom-most stones, the very grains of Harry’s mind. “Your mind is your own! Open your eyes—look at me!” the man shouted, exhorting. “Potter!”
Slow Convergence by Iteration
Pairing: Severus Snape/Harry Potter
Length: ~9,000
Author on LJ:
dracofiendAuthor Website: Walking the Plank
Why this must be read:
For the lyrical, intensely physical language. For the UST. For the sensual, claustrophobic descriptions of what it might actually feel like to have a Legilimens rifling through your mind. For the first half, with the rhythm which builds and recedes like dub con but isn't actually sexual. For the sense that Snape's going to burst out of his buttoned-down, snarling self-control at any moment. For the second half, with its wonderfully awkward, funny, tongue-tied conversations between them. For the flash of surprising tenderness.
Harry is dorky and endearing and determined. Snape is enigmatic and tight-lipped to an infuriating degree. You will ache for them both, because
dracofiend is such an incredibly artful and astute writer, a master of poetic intensity and emotional undercurrents.“Again!” barked Snape, flicking his wand impatiently. “Legilimens!” He cast it before Harry could raise his head.
Harry twisted aside as the pressure returned, swirling scattered thoughts, fragments of memory tangled with dreams. Snape was everywhere in his mind all at once, again, again, the black figure crying again within his eyes and without while Harry strained to stop it, the sweeping wave of Snape, stop the touch and feel of—
“Focus!” Snape hissed and Harry did, on the swish of dark sleeve as it passed through the air, on the gleam of dark wand pointed at him, and it was Snape, again—again!—streaming swiftly through him like an ocean through a sieve.
“I can’t,” Harry gasped, feeling Snape there—and there—it wasn’t strange anymore, knowing Snape was there, with the curl of his mind brushing or clutching at the varied pebbles of thought. They spun by uncounted and Harry could only heave, helpless as he watched them pass into Snape, to be examined or discarded in less than half a blink.
“Your thoughts are your own,” Snape growled at him, even as he delved to the bottom-most stones, the very grains of Harry’s mind. “Your mind is your own! Open your eyes—look at me!” the man shouted, exhorting. “Potter!”
Slow Convergence by Iteration