*Okay, just to set things straight, this is going to be a DraMione fanfiction, because I love DraMione. :P This chapter is based off of the chapter 'Malfoy Manor', except it's kind of from Draco's POV. The twist comes at the end, but I hope you'll read through this block of stuff anyways. Oh, and if anybody's interested, I'm searching for a beta, but the ones I've tried to contact kind of haven't replied. Have fun reading! ^^*
Chapter 1
Decision
"Draco," snapped his father, his stormy steel eyes unreadable, his voice full of tension. "Go down to the secret room again and see if those prisoners'll snap today. And no hesitating with the Cruciatus curse."
"Yes, father," he replied, eyes turned towards the ground, hiding the growing fury inside of him. He hated this task, hated it. He loathed the sound of screams erupting from the innocent people they were holding captive, loathed knowing that he was the one causing the pain. He didn't ask to be a part of this, didn't want to. So that was why he was a little relieved when he was assigned this task- he didn't have to torture them when he was there with them.
With a swish of his dark black cloak- his Death Eater cloak- he turned towards the stairs leading to down below, to the dank, lightless chamber. He felt his spacious pocket filled with leftover pastries from the kitchens. The house-elves didn't mind giving him extra, and he knew that they would keep quiet. Even if they did tell, he could pass it off as his personal sweet tooth.
For the past week, he had been handing some extra food to their prisoners whenever it was his turn to go down and torture them, telling them to act scared and hurt when the next person came down. Despite his changing loyalty, Draco really did not want to be caught. It would cost him his life, and the one thing that all Slytherins upheld was self-preservation. He hadn't reached the point where he'd sacrifice himself to save others, in fact, he couldn't even imagine doing so. It was so, so, Gryffindor. He shivered at the thought.
Just as he was about to disappear into the musky, undusted corridor leading to the cavern-like space, he heard a knock from the front gates, which were charmed to be like microphones. The knocking quickly turned to a furious, impatient pounding. Who could it be? thought Draco curiously, pausing as he strained his ears towards the door. The next statement made his blood run cold.
"We've got Potter!" roared the triumphant growl of Fenrir Greyback, a man (werewolf to be exact) who truly terrified Draco. But not as much as his words. "We've captured Harry Potter!"
You idiot Potter! If you get yourself killed, there's no way anyone can ever take down Voldemort! Bastard, didn't you get that you were supposed to stay safe? he yelled silently, feeling his hopes of one day escaping the grasps of the Dark Lord and his sickening duties of a Death Eater disappear.
However, with news as important as this, there was no way he could miss it. He glanced at his father to check his presumptions, and the taller man gave him a curt nod and a gesture to return to the main hall. His stomach churned as he watched Bellatrix excitedly pace up and down, her face filled with enough eagerness to tear down the door just to see Harry Potter's face even just a few seconds earlier. It was never a good sign when Bellatrix was happy- it usually preceded a round of torturing, and eventually death. It might have been a good show for all the other Death Eaters, but never for Draco.
The huge, obsidian black doors swung open to reveal three disheveled teenagers trudging into the manor, pushed by the large, bulky Snatchers from behind. He could recognize two of the three immediately- who else had red hair but a Weasley, and how could anyone mistake that bushy brown hair for anybody but Granger? But the other boy whom he presumed was Potter, what the hell had happened to him? It looked like he had a bee hive dropped on his face or something- Draco looked away in disgust.
"Who are you?" demanded his mother, wand pointed out towards the Snatchers, particularly at the werewolf.
"You know me!" he snarled, the growl filled with loathing. "Fenrir Greyback! We've caught Harry Potter!" He grabbed the bee hive boy and shoved him into the light, putting him into spotlight so all could see.
"I know 'e's swollen, ma'am, but it's 'im!" piped up another Snatcher, sounding both frightened and anxious. Draco snorted- all those fools probably cared about was the reward. "If you look a bit closer, you'll see 'is scar. And this 'ere, see the girl? The Mudblood who's been traveling around with 'im, ma'am. There's no doubt it's 'im, and we've got 'is wand as well! 'Ere, ma'am-"
He handed Narcissa a black wand, watching her face for either approval or rejection. She looked at them with suspicion, but approved it nonetheless with a sigh. "Bring them in."
The beaten-up trio was led down a wall covered in portraits of the Malfoy family tree, covering hundreds of years of history. Draco was disgusted with it- so many years, so much time they could have developed a good reputation for themselves and they had wasted it, poisoning their roots with Dark magic. And they called themselves noble, righteous.
"Follow me," said Narcissa, strutting down the hallway with an air of superiority. "My son, Draco, is home for his Easter holidays. If that is Harry Potter, he will know."
And of course, the task of sentencing the hero and savior of the Wizarding World and his sidekicks would be left to him. His expression crumpled into rage for a second before he composed himself, well, as best as he could, repairing the cold hard anger, feeling it transform into chilling fear. If he did what he wanted to do, he'd deny it was Harry Potter and his best friends, and get himself killed in the process along with them. He didn't want to die, but he didn't want to let these three die either. What had they done? Nothing wrong. Only right. Goody.
Draco settled into an armchair, closing his silver eyes and taking deep breaths. He had moments to make a decision- betray himself, betray the part of him that wanted to do something right for once, something he'd choose entirely of his own accord, or follow the will or his parents and Lord, be a mere puppet in their evil, twisted show. Slytherins value self-preservation over all else… That was one of the key traits that defined his house, along with ambition and purity of blood. He'd just have to try to play the cards so they'd all live, if that was even possible.
"What is this?" drawled his father, staring intently at the black-haired boy.
"They say they've got Potter," informed Narcissa, motioning for Draco to come over. This was it. "Draco, come here."
Draco took long, slow steps over, gliding over the ornate carpeting of the drawing room until he was right in front of his classmate. Even from his armchair he wouldn't be able to deny that the teen in front of him was Harry Potter. Luckily for him, he was skilled at lying. You don't escape being Slytherin without acquiring that attribute at least.
"Well boy?" asked the werewolf, quickly getting irritated. Draco ignored him, instead focusing on the boy presented to him.
He tried to look Potter in the eye, hoping to see hope, some trust in Draco let him free, something that would help Draco follow his resolve. No hope, the boy didn't dare meet his gaze, and Draco wondered if he could. Those sores or whatever they were looked like they hurt. He could hardly see the emerald orbs through them. Poor Potter. The pity gave him a little bit of courage. But the glare from his father and aunt quickly subdued it.
"Well, Draco?" asked his father, sounding absolutely furious with his son's hesitance. "Is it? Is it Harry Potter?"
Draco cowered, looking away from Harry, torn between terror and his own sense of justice. "I can't- I can't be sure," he stuttered, sentence breaking as he cracked beneath his father's intimidating presence.
"But look at him carefully, look! Come closer! Draco, if we are the ones who hand Potter over to the Dark Lord, everything will be forgiv-" Draco tried mute out his father, sensing that little part of him that wanted nothing more than to please his father, to hear the words it had never heard, "I'm proud of you." He was relieved when Greyback did it for him. He didn't need to hear another round of 'Voldemort is our god and we must worship him'speeches.
"Now, we won't be forgetting who actually caught him, I hope, Mr. Malfoy?" said Greyback, eyes glimmering with challenge and greed.
"Of course not, of course not," replied Lucius brusquely, clearly paying the werewolf no mind as he examined Potter for himself, peering into the puffed up face as if it were a valuable art piece on display.
"What did you do to him?" asked Lucius as calmly as if Potter were a mere animal- in his head, that's what he was. "How did he get into this state?"
"That wasn't us."
"Looks like a Stinging Jinx to me," he observed, gaze raking his forehead for the telltale lightning mark. "There's something there. Could be the scar stretched tight... Draco, come here, look properly! What do you think?"
Reluctantly, Draco approached again, feeling actual pain as he looked at the doomed companions. He could grant them freedom with his answer, but it would more likely than not fail. Between the two sides of him, he compromised. "I don't know."
He returned to his mother almost resembling a puppy with its tail between its legs. He wanted to scamper away where he couldn't feel the daggers of hatred piercing him, the murderous stares of Weasley and Granger. What he would give to be chatting with Lovegood, Thomas, and Ollivander. Everyone always cast a silencing charm on the room so nobody else would have to here the screams, and therefore no one would hear him conversing with their prisoners like friends.
Of course, they still hadn't completely warmed to him, and he made them swear to never tell of what he did to anyone. However, they accepted him and were always happy for the reprieve in a life of constant torture. It made him feel warm inside- a feeling that he was helping people, that he was doing the right thing. He wished he felt that right now.
He chanced a glance back at Granger, her loathsome expression reminding him of a feral cat, defensive and vengeful. Her golden-brown eyes swirled like monsoons, just as deadly as the storms. He almost expected her to growl at him.
"We had better be certain, Lucius," called his mother, taking long strides to her husband's side. "Completely certain it is Potter, before we summon the Dark Lord... They say this is his-" She held up the blackthorn wand, scrutinizing it. "-but it does not resemble Ollivander's description... If we are mistaken, if we call the Dark Lord here for nothing... Remember what he did to Rowle and Dolohov?"
Draco shuddered at the mention of the two former Death Eaters. Former only because they had made a couple of errors, and then were sentenced to death. Sometimes he wondered if Voldemort treated his servants worse than his enemies. It was just as dangerous to be a Death Eater as Harry Potter sometimes.
"What about the Mudblood then?" growled Greyback, snatching Potter back and pushing Granger into the bright light of the crystal chandelier. She stumbled forwards, losing her balance, only kept up by Greyback's claws around her arms, like a puppet.
"Wait," said Narcissa, voice cold, examining the girl. "Yes- yes, she was in Madam Malkin's with Potter! I saw her picture in the Prophet! Look, Draco, isn't it the Granger girl?"
If he denied it now, he'd probably get killed for being a fool and possibly a betrayer. Everybody was already so sure of her identity- even his denial couldn't save her. This was all so hopeless. He felt the words slip helplessly from his tongue, "I… maybe… yeah." He refused to turn back, look back at the girl he'd just condemned.
"But then, that's the Weasley boy!" exclaimed Lucius, walking around the prisoners to Weasley, smiling as he stared at the freckles and red hair, the unmistakable marks of a Weasley. "It's them, Potter's friends- Draco, look at him, isn't it Arthur Weasley's son, what's his name-?"
"Yeah," he hissed out, closing his eyes. Damn you Draco, you coward… "It could be."
The door slammed open to reveal Bellatrix, who had been talking downstairs with a spare Snatcher. "What is this?" She walked with a royal air to the bound prisoners beneath the light, eyes landing on Hermione, who cringed. "But surely," she said in a voice that was almost a whisper, "this is the Mudblood girl? This is Granger?"
"Yes, yes, it's Granger!" cheered Lucius, gray eyes glittering with joy. "And beside her, we think, Potter! Potter and his friends, caught at last!"
"Potter?" shrieked Bellatrix, backing away to view the black-haired teen better. "Are you sure? Well then, the Dark Lord must be informed at once!" She grabbed her sleeve and pulled it back, revealing the hideous tattoo like snake and skull that all Death Eaters had, and Draco could almost feel it sting already.
"I was about to call him!" interrupted Lucius, stopping Bellatrix's ardent fingers from touching her master's mark. "I shall summon him, Bella, Potter has been brought to my house, and it is therefore upon my authority-"
"You authority!" she laughed, trying to wrestle her way out of Lucius's strong grip. "You lost your authority when you lost your wand, Lucius! How dare you! Take your hands off me!"
"This is nothing to do with you, you did not capture the boy-"
"Begging your pardon, Mr. Malfoy," piped up Greyback, "but it's us that caught Potter, and it's us that'll be claiming the gold-"
"Gold!" jeered Bellatrix, trying to grab her wand with her spare hand while attempting to wrench her arm from Lucius. "Take your gold, filthy scavenger, what do I want with gold? I seek only the honor of his- of-"
She froze, as if she were stunned or petrified, black eyes locked onto a beautiful sword in the hands of a Snatcher. It had a jeweled handle, and Draco could make out a few letters carved onto the steel of the blade, God- Gr-fin-, it couldn't be... The sword of Godric Gryffindor? His father was instantly elated with glee, and he peeled back his own robe, about to slam his his Dark Mark-
"STOP!" yelled Bellatrix. "Do not touch it; we shall all perish if the Dark Lord comes now!"
Everybody heeded her command, whether it was because of the frightening tone of her voice or the punishment it promised, Draco wasn't sure. For him, it was a combination.
"What is that?" she asked, pointing at the Snatcher.
"Sword," he grunted back, not meeting her deadly stare.
"Give it to me," she commanded, each word holding the weight of ten tons of ice.
"It's not yorn, missus, it's mine, I reckon I found it."
There was a flash of red light, and the Snatcher dropped to the floor, Stunned. His fellow Snatchers roared in protest: Scabior pointed his wand at Bellatrix.
"What d'you think you're playing at, woman?"
"Stupefy!" she shrieked. "Stupefy!"
The Snatchers didn't even get a chance to fire a single spell before they all fell before her. Draco couldn't help but feel awe- four versus one, and she got away without a scratch. Now only if one of the trio had that kind of skill, they wouldn't have managed to get themselves caught by a stupid werewolf and friends. Greyback had been forced into a kneeling position, arms on the ground as if he were bowing to Bellatrix.
"Where did you get this sword?" she whispered, yet Draco could hear every rasp of her tongue. She took Greyback's wand.
"How dare you?" he replied, taut with anger. Bellatrix flicked her wand, and he looked up at her, baring his fangs, he demanded, "Release me, woman!"
"Where did you find this sword?" she repeated, sounding irritated and impatient. That was never a good combination in Bellatrix. "Snape sent it to my vault in Gringotts!"
"It was in their tent. Release me, I say!"
Bellatrix waved her wand again, and the werewolf immediately stood up, but didn't attack Bellatrix as Draco half expected he would. He looked much too wary for that now. He went to the armchair Draco had sat in and scraped his filthy, claw-like nails across the leather surface.
"Draco, move this scum outside," instructed Bellatrix, motioning to the unconscious men outside. Draco looked terrified, knowing it would mean their deaths would be on him- so far he hadn't killed anybody. Bellatrix sensed this, and added, "If you haven't got the guts to finish them, then leave them in the courtyard for me."
He let out a relieved grin while his mother suddenly interjected. "Don't you dare speak to Draco like-"
"Be quiet! The situation is graver than you can possibly imagine, Cissy! We have a very serious problem." Bellatrix paused, panting as she reexamined the sword. Draco cast a levitation charm, making the unconscious soon-to-be corpses follow him down the stairs and through the door out. He stayed out for a few moments longer, staring at the upstairs window.
An albino peacock fluttered to his side, the white feathers glowing in the silver moonlight. Draco petted it gently, listening to it gently coo as it rubbed its head against him. Smiling, he watched his pet strut away, even it holding the air of a Malfoy, prideful. He heard more screams erupt from above, and knew it was time to reenter.
"Take these prisoners down to the cellar, Greyback." He arrived just in time to see his mother commanding the werewolf, and swerved to avoid the four.
"Wait," Bellatrix said as she approached, placing her hand on Granger's shoulder. "All except… except for the Mudblood." Greyback let out a grunt of glee.
"No!" shouted Weasley, eyes alert and defensive. "You can have me, keep me!"
Draco found himself just as angry as Weasley, but unlike him, didn't act upon it, struggling to keep himself expressionless. He no longer believed in pureblood superiority- how could someone as smart and powerful as Hermione Granger possibly be inferior to him, a sniveling servant of evil? How dare Bellatrix grab her, how dare she plan to torture her? He could see it in her eyes, the beady glare of a hunter judging how it should take down its prey.
Bellatrix slapped Ron, kicking him for good measure. "If she dies under questioning, I'll take you next. Blood traitor is next to Mudblood in my book. Take them downstairs, Greyback, and make sure they are secure, but do nothing more to them- yet."
She nonchalantly tossed the werewolf's wand back to him, and then retrieved a knife from under her robes. She cut Granger free from the other two, allowing Greyback to drag the other two to the cellars below. Draco watched as they disappeared, and then turned back to Hermione, who was forced into the same kneeling position as Greyback.
"Tell me Mudblood, where did you find the sword? Tell me!"
"W-we just found it, I swear, I'm not lying!" she shrieked, letting out a yell of pain as she was struck by the Cruciatus Curse. "Please, please believe me!"
"You filthy Mudblood, do not dare lie to me!" Draco blanched, watching as the Cruciatus Curse was cast again, wanting to look away from the horrible scene in front of him, yet unable. "Snape sent this to my vault at Gringotts! You and your friends stole it! Tell me the truth!"
"W-we didn't take it from Gringotts! I swear, I swear, I swear it, please, please!" She was shaking, a common side effect of the Cruciatus Curse, and Draco wanted to rush in and save her. He heard a bellowing from down below, the name 'Hermione' shouted over and over. The voice of somebody desperate to save the shaking girl in front of him. Somebody who was probably brave enough to do it. Why couldn't he conjure that courage for himself?
"I'm going to ask you again! Where did you get this sword? Where?"
"We found it- we found it- PLEASE!" Granger screamed again, sounding like there were a million needles stuck in her, all pressing in at once. Draco knew how the curse felt, it had often been used on him when he disobeyed as a child. He unconsciously rubbed his arms, feeling that prickling sensation of pain as he remembered it. How he wanted to save her right now.
"You are lying, filthy Mudblood, and I know it! You have been inside my vault at Gringotts! Tell the truth, tell the truth!"
Hermione let out another pained yell, gasping for air as her lungs couldn't find the energy to shriek, eyes closed as she tried to steady herself, failing and falling onto the ground, curling into a ball. Everybody watched stoically, understanding the consequences of interrupting this questioning. Bellatrix's expression was filled with hatred, anger, and malicious desire.
"What else did you take? What else have you got? Tell me the truth or, I swear, I shall run you through with this knife!" Draco watched as Bellatrix slashed Granger's arm, the world starting to spin around him as he watched that red blood spill out, just as pure crimson as his own. If only he had the spirit of a Gryffindor nothing would be able to stop him from attacking Bellatrix- but he was a Slytherin. His instincts kept him rooted to the spot.
"What else did you take, what else? ANSWER ME! CRUCIO!" This time Bellatrix actually said the spell, and it seemed to be even more powerful than the unspoken curse. Granger was curled into the fetal position, as if she'd break apart if she wasn't.
"How did you get into my vault? Did that dirty little goblin in the cellar help you?"
"We only met him tonight!" pleaded Hermione desperately. "We've never been inside your vault… It isn't the real sword! It's a copy, just a copy!" Draco couldn't believe she could still talk- from experience he could say that he was incapable of speech after a mere two incantations.
"A copy? Oh, a likely story!"
"But we can find out easily!" cried Lucius. "Draco, fetch the goblin, he can tell us whether the sword is real or not!"
Draco nodded, shaking himself as he took his wand out of his robe and started walking downstairs, glad to be free of having to watch the torturing of Hermione Granger. He started down the stairs, knowing he couldn't show an ounce of pity, perfectly aware that everybody was waiting for him. "Stand back. Line up against the back wall. Don't try anything, or I'll kill you!"
He half wished they would try something, that Luna would at least be able to know he didn't have the heart or bravery to take them down. But when he opened the door, he discovered they had listened to him. Hiding his dismay behind a practiced Poker Face, he grabbed Griphook by the arm and dragged him out, shutting the door.
A loud crack suddenly came from behind him, and looking back, he noticed the crack between the door and the ground suddenly light up, and Weasley exclaiming, "DOB-!" Had somebody come to save them? Draco kept the door unlocked, knowing it would make it easier for them to rescue Granger. Now he'd just have to pass off the crack as him attacking one of the prisoners.
When he reached the room again, he once again heard the loud crack, and knew he'd be unable to pass it off as his curse, seeing he was in the view of everybody. "What was that?" shouted Lucius, looking around for the source of the noise. "Did you hear that? What was that noise in the cellar?" Draco paled, feeling that frail hope dissipate again. "Draco-" A moment of joy to know he could fix everything. "-no, call Wormtail! Make him go and check!" In despair, he called upon the rat-faced man and told him to go down.
They waited several moments as they heard the door open, and a small scuffling. "What is it, Wormtail?" called Lucius, his wand out, prepared for an attack if the prisoners escaped.
"Nothing, all fine!" wheezed Wormtail. Lucius relaxed, and Draco returned his attention to Bellatrix and the sword.
Soon, the goblin had the weapon in his hands, beetle-black eyes focused intently on the blade as he ran his fingers across it, holding it close, then holding it farther out, weighing it with his hands, as well as several other tests.
"Well, is it the true sword?" asked Bellatrix.
"No, it is a fake."
"Are you sure? Quite sure?"
"Yes," said the goblin, handing it back to her with a toothy smile.
"Good," replied Bellatrix, giving a wave her wand, slashing a deep cut onto the goblin's face, kicking him aside as he yelped. "And now, we call the Dark Lord!" Her forefinger pressed onto the Dark Mark, and instantly Draco doubled in pain, feeling his- he hated the word- master's anger. "And I think we can dispose of the Mudblood. Greyback, take her if you want her."
At that instant, Potter and Weasley burst into the room, and Draco's eyes lit up in happiness. They had done it; perhaps not all was lost after all. "Expelliarmus!" roared Ron, Bellatrix's wand flying out of her hand and into Harry's.
"Stupefy!" cried Harry, and Draco watched his father collapse on to the ground, Stunned. His mother and Greyback wheeled around, firing curses at the duo. In the confusion, Draco tried to aim a spell towards Bellatrix, but missed, cursing under his breath as Bellatrix stood up, holding Granger in her arms.
"STOP OR SHE DIES!"
Draco froze, watching his aunt hold the bloody silver knife to Granger's throat. The girl was breathing shallow breaths, but seemed unaware of the blade, eyes closed, looking like a rag doll. "Drop your wands," whispered Bellatrix. "Drop them, or we'll see exactly how filthy her blood is!"
Potter and Weasley stared in disbelief, their hands clenched around their wands, completely unsure of what to do. "I said, drop them!" screeched Bellatrix, starting to press the knife into Hermione's neck, and Draco could see scarlet drops appear, contrasting with the darkening, drying blood.
"All right!" declared Potter, dropping Bellatrix's wand as Weasley dropped his, raising their hands in surrender.
"Good! Draco, pick them up! The Dark Lord is coming, Harry Potter! Your death approaches!" Idiots, how many chances are you going to just throw away? seethed Draco, reluctantly taking away their last defense. Draco scurried back, holding the two wands plus his in his hands.
"Now," purred Bellatrix, a smile making its way across her face. "Cissy, I think we ought to tie these little heroes up again, while Greyback takes care of Miss Mudblood, I am sure the Dark Lord will not begrudge you the girl, Greyback, after what you have done tonight."
Draco heard a strange keening noise from above, and his gaze strayed up to the crystal chandelier, and he realized it was trembling. He yelped as it fell, trying to get away, feeling his back pierced by shards of glass, some of it scraping his cheeks, but nothing seriously vital was hit.
Weasley quickly tried to pull Granger out of the mess, Potter attacked him, wrenching the wands from Draco's weak grip. Draco didn't fight it, instead basically handing them to him, watching as Potter fired a triple Stunning spell at the werewolf, who was knocked off his feet.
Draco stood up, uncertain of what to do, looking Potter in the eye nervously. Bellatrix picked herself off the ground where she had jumped to escape the chandelier, and his mother had her wand pointed at the doorway towards a particular house-elf. Dobby. Draco instantly felt the fear mount in him- this elf had been one of his best friends through his childhood, possibly his only friend.
"Dobby!" screamed his mother, holding her wand steady. "You dropped the chandelier-?"
The elf strutted forwards, waving his long finger in a disapproving manner at his previous mistress. "You must not hurt Harry Potter!"
"Kill him, Cissy!" yelled Bellatrix, but Dobby used his magic and Narcissa's wand spiraled out of her grasp and was thrown across the room.
"You dirty little monkey!" said Bellatrix. "How dare you take a witch's wand, how dare you defy your masters?"
"Dobby has no master!" protested the elf, standing boldly in the face of the vicious witch. "Dobby is a free elf, and Dobby has come to save Harry Potter and his friends!"
Draco realized the elf was about to apparate along with Potter and Weasley, and he knew nobody was watching him. He ran forwards, reaching with a tentative hand toward one of their cloaks. "Ron, catch- and GO!" screamed Harry, and Draco clenched the black robe in his hands, feeling the world spin around him, but not letting go.
His silvery orbs saw the elegant manor disappear before him, watching the remnants of the once magnificent chandelier fade into a misty blue-gray. He was spinning in circles, a force like wind threatening to make him release his grip on Harry's cloak. He didn't think the teen had noticed Draco clinging to his robe, and he was glad of it. He didn't need to get Stunned while apparating.
Then, the spinning stopped, and he fell onto sand, seeing a small, dull beach before him, tiny waves crashing onto the shore. Where was he? Before he had time to pick himself up, he heard a "Stupefy!" and he fell to the ground again, stunned.
*I know it's annoying to ask for a review, but if you would be kind enough to leave one for me, I'd greatly appreciate it. Fellow writers know what I'm talking about, right? That successful feeling that you get when someone gives you a good review? I'll release the next chapter in... a week. Because I want to be able to stay on top of this and not suddenly stop posting for months and just giving up. I want to write this till then end. Thanks! I hope to see you next week!*