I grew up in the slums of New York during the Summer of Love in 1969.
I grew up in the sleepy town of Limerick during the Second World War, when money and food were scarce and the Irish, as they are today, were repressed because of their blood and because of their religious beliefs.
I grew up under King Arthurís shinning emblem in hopes of a better future.
I was Freddie Mercuryís female love. I received all his earnings and seven cats when he died.
I went to High School with Bob Dylan.
I am Black.
I am White.
I am Cherokee.
I am Hungarian.
I am a writer, and I give the truth scope.
Summary: One-shot, post-HBP. On the second anniversary of the final battle, Harry tries to drink away his memories.
Summary: What if there were more to Remus Lupin's bite than a badly timed stroll in the woods? The arrival of a feral invokes secrets of the past and terror for the present...
Summary: Lupin handles Harry's grieving in the most insightful and mature way he can: by taking him out and getting him utterly plastered. However, as one rather astute young auror notes, drinking and pretending nothing is wrong is NOT dealing with your problems, and Remus Lupin must confront his grieving.