post office department

2

After-hours

Without lifting her gaze from the leather folders she was carrying, Hermione hurried into the elevator and distractedly slammed her palm against the button of the ground floor.

“Staying after-hours again, Granger?”

Hermione flinched at the voice that had spoken over the metallic rattling noise of the golden grilles sliding shut and cast a glance over her shoulder at the man leaning against the far wall. She bowed her head in reluctant greeting.

“I’ve got… paperwork,” she muttered, turning away and trying to ignore the heat creeping up her neck.

“Sure. Paperwork…” hummed Malfoy, drawing out the last word in an almost indecent purr. “What about taking this paperwork somewhere else?”

Hermione’s gaze flickered to the golden grilles; they were nearing the Atrium. Malfoy’s office was the closest but they would still have to go back down a few levels.

“I was actually going to suggest my place,” sounded his voice again as though he had guessed her thoughts.

Hermione turned around, a crease appearing between her eyebrows.

“Malfoy…” she started.

“Yes, Granger, I know…” sighed Malfoy, rolling his eyes. “As soon as we take it home it becomes personal. After six months of your repeating it every other night, I get it. What I don’t get is what would be so terrible about it?”

Hermione stood still, taken aback, as the elevator screeched to a halt.

“I don’t- I don’t know…”

“Right,” cut her off Malfoy, his face suddenly shutting, although she glimpsed a flicker of bitterness in his gaze. “After you…” he said coolly, waiting for her to exit the elevator.

Hermione didn’t move.

“I was going to say I don’t know your address,” she said quietly, stepping out into the half-deserted Atrium.

Next moment, she felt a hand settle in the small of her back, firmly steering her to the row of fireplaces.

“Well, that can be easily fixed,” whispered Malfoy’s voice into her ear.

The tear-jerker of a letter below was written by a World War II veteran named Brian Keith to another soldier, known only as “Dave.” The two began their romance in 1943 while stationed in North Africa together. This letter commemorated that anniversary.

It was first re-printed for wide distribution in 1961, by pioneering gay publication, ONE Magazine. But this love letter could very well have never seen the light of day. ONE put out their first issue in 1953, and brazenly sold on the streets of Los Angeles. In 1954 the magazine faced obscenity charges from the U.S. Post Office Department. They sued, and in 1958, won in a Supreme Court trial that set new legal precedent for First Amendment protections. ONE Magazine ran until 1967.

Dear Dave,

This is in memory of an anniversary — the anniversary of October 27th, 1943, when I first heard you singing in North Africa. That song brings memories of the happiest times I’ve ever known. Memories of a GI show troop — curtains made from barrage balloons — spotlights made from cocoa cans — rehearsals that ran late into the evenings — and a handsome boy with a wonderful tenor voice. Opening night at a theatre in Canastel — perhaps a bit too much muscatel, and someone who understood. Exciting days playing in the beautiful and stately Municipal Opera House in Oran — a misunderstanding — an understanding in the wings just before opening chorus.

Drinks at “Coq d’or” — dinner at the “Auberge” — a ring and promise given. The show 1st Armoured — muscatel, scotch, wine — someone who had to be carried from the truck and put to bed in his tent. A night of pouring rain and two very soaked GIs beneath a solitary tree on an African plain. A borrowed French convertible — a warm sulphur spring, the cool Mediterranean, and a picnic of “rations” and hot cokes. Two lieutenants who were smart enough to know the score, but not smart enough to realize that we wanted to be alone. A screwball piano player — competition — miserable days and lonely nights. The cold, windy night we crawled through the window of a GI theatre and fell asleep on a cot backstage, locked in each other’s arms — the shock when we awoke and realized that miraculously we hadn’t been discovered. A fast drive to a cliff above the sea — pictures taken, and a stop amid the purple grapes and cool leaves of a vineyard.

The happiness when told we were going home — and the misery when we learned that we would not be going together. Fond goodbyes on a secluded beach beneath the star-studded velvet of an African night, and the tears that would not be stopped as I stood atop the sea-wall and watched your convoy disappear over the horizon.

We vowed we’d be together again “back home,” but fate knew better — you never got there. And so, Dave, I hope that wherever you are these memories are as precious to you as they are to me.

Goodnight, sleep well my love.

Brian Keith

Goldfrapp’s moving “Clay” from their latest long-player, Tales of Us, is based on the letter.

anonymous asked:

Do you have a birthday imagine? Today is my birthday and I've been looking for some cheering up

I do!! Happy birthday, anon! I’m gonna link you every birthday thing I have. Also, here’s a cool birthday thing for you: you share a birthday with Sandra Bullock, did you know? Pretty good company. And here are some things that happened on this day in history: 1775 – The office that would later become the United States Post Office Department is established by the Second Continental Congress.  1958 – Explorer program: Explorer 4 is launched.

Today is also National Bagelfest Day AND National Coffee Milkshake Day. Hope your day gets cheered. :)