So, this is the second chapter. I would first and foremost like to thank the first two reviewers. I never expected to get even one review within the first twelve hours of posing this… and I got two! Imagine my shock and awe. So thank you. I can truly say you made my day.

I've changed my mind a bit on the time thing. There will be at least one more chapter in the same time period as the first one. This one is actually just the same day as the prologue. Don't get confused. I'll let you know when the time changes majorly.

The song for this chapter is Valjean Forgiven (actually, the whole bit with the Bishop and his arrest), as you can probably already see. I also listened to quite a bit of Speed of Sound by Chris Bell. I know, it's strange. But whatever. I've got strange music tastes. But if you're anything like me, you like to listen to music when you're reading (or writing) so if you want to hear what I was hearing writing this… that's it. (Oh! Lay 'Em Down by Needtobreathe was a bit inspirational, too. Excellent band, they are.)

I feel this chapter needs a few explanations. First- Hermione is not stupid. She is simply a bit naïve, very trusting, and believes that everyone deserves a chance. Remember that when you're reading.

Second- Snape, while he is somewhat of a beggar, hates being treated as a charity case. He gets extremely angry when he is treated as one, and despises 'Gryffindor nobility'. That may help to explain some of his actions later in the chapter. He will also be a bit more in character here. No, he hasn't been turned into a softie. Couldn't have that, could we?

Final word count – 6,045 words and 10 ¼ pages on Word.

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So sir, you may release him, for this man has spoken true. I commend you for your duty and god's blessings go with you. But remember this, my brother; see in this some higher plan. You must use this precious silver, to become an honest man. By the witness of the martyrs, by the Passion and the Blood -God has raised you out of darkness. I have bought your soul for God! –Les Miserables, Valjean Forgiven

Forgiveness is the fragrance the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it. -Mark Twain

One Day More

By Woodwinked

Chapter Two- The Fragrance of Violets

It was growing dark. The sun was setting beyond the rooftops of the tall buildings of London. The people on the street were scattering. It was nearly supper or bed time for the nameless rabble. They were clearing off into apartments, townhouses, restaurants, and bus stations. Everyone was going places. It seemed that everyone had a place to go, somewhere to be, people to be with.

Severus had nowhere to go. He had nowhere that he belonged, no one that he belonged with.

He was rather used to it by now. He watched the passing couples and families with little envy. He drew his tattered cloak around himself and tried to keep his gaze on the road before him. For most of his life he had been just as alone as this. He had spent his childhood curled up in his bedroom, fearing for his life. His school years had been spent dodging taunts from every side, and avoiding people like the plague.

He was used to being alone. He had even grown to cherish it. Severus Snape was a very private person.

So why then was he feeling the loneliness so acutely? Why now –as he watched people hurry past, all with destinations- did the sheer weight of his isolation decide to crush him as it did? He could feel it, almost like the physical weight of the shackles that used to bind his feet. It made his steps drag, his head hang.

And why, oh why could he not get the image of that girl out of his head? Her hazel eyes shining at him with the light of pure childhood innocence. They seemed to penetrate the darkness that surrounded him like a fog.

Surely there hadn't been a time when he had been that innocent, that naïve, that unassuming. He had been spoilt at an early age. Severus could not remember a time when he was not jaded. It had been a long time, of that he was sure.

But that little girl. She seemed so sure of his goodness. Severus himself had never been that sure of that fact. In fact, at this moment, walking alone on the streets, he was sure of the opposite. There was no ounce of goodness left in him. Life and experience had sucked all that out of him. Killing the one man who ever meant anything to him ensured the total damnation of his soul, if it had not been damned already when he caused Lily Evans' death.

He shuddered at the thought, and shook his head to clear the thoughts. No, Severus Snape was not a good man. He never had been, and never would be.

He felt the weight of the few silver coins in his pocket, and contemplated buying himself something to eat. There was a possibility he could afford a loaf of bread with the money, or something of the like. But the possibility of spending it all this night and having nothing for the next day… no. It would have to last him for when he truly needed it. It would have to wait. He told that to his aching head, and his grumbling stomach.

He walked because he had nowhere to go.

Funny, that. Most people walked when they had a destination in mind, and stayed put when they got there, and had nowhere else to go.

But if Severus didn't keep moving, he was sure he would stop moving altogether. Forever.

He was quickly leaving the downtown district of London. The houses and buildings were growing fewer and more far between. The road beneath his feet grew from brick to dirt, and still he walked. He walked until the mists of twilight were almost gone, and the darkness of night was almost complete.

He walked until he was sure that his feet could carry him no further. Walked until his legs screamed in protest and his head throbbed. He was no longer the fit, young man of so many years ago. His lungs cried out in agony.

"Sir?" A voice reached to him out of the darkness. He knew that voice. If it had been possible, he would have kept walking. But he was frozen. "Sir, are you alright?" He could see her a few feet in front of him, standing with her mail in hand and looking at him with concern that he did not deserve.

Foolishly she approached him when he did not answer. His eyes were fixed on her small form as she took tentative steps towards him, peering curiously at his face. By now Severus was too tired from the day's travels, and from the mental strain seeing her twice in one day was giving him. He was ready to just fall over and be done with it.

"Hello… are you alright?" She was very close now. If he had wanted to he could have reached out touched her. But he didn't. For a girl who had survived a war with people constantly trying to attack her, she was strangely trusting. Approaching a strange man in the dark without her wand? Stupid. He would have to scold her…

Another step towards him, and one of her small hands reached out to shake his shoulder gently. This was all it took for Severus to come stumbling forward into her. He hadn't meant to do it, and he cursed the fates for making his legs fail him at that exact moment. How convenient.

With surprising strength for a woman of her size, she supported him. "Alright then, let's get you inside." Inside? "I knew you couldn't turn down my offer." She had recognized him?

She threw one of his arms around her shoulders and they made their slow, tedious trip up her small pathway and into her house.

If you had told Severus Snape five years ago that he would be essentially dragged off of the streets into Hermione Granger's home… chances are high that he would have hexed you in the face.

He felt like a foolish invalid as she helped him up the two steps to her door, and then as he had to lean against the side of the house as she opened the door for him. The lights inside the small house were dim and warm. It smelled good and clean and so like home that Severus wanted to weep. If he had the strength, he would have turned on the spot and refused her point blank. He would have run down the street and as far away from this little woman as possible. He would have…

But, as she helped him over the threshold and into the house itself, he knew that was all wishful thinking. A day full of all work and no food had incapacitated him the way the Unforgivables never had. Yet another sign of his new weakness.

"If I had known when I saw you… do you have anywhere to go? Oh, that is no matter. Here, sit." Before he knew what was happening she had sat him at what looked to be a kitchen table. She chattered on and on, and Severus only caught a few words here and there. The house was small, but tidy. Charming. The kitchen was bright and colorful as only hers could be. Magnets, photos, and what looked to be Charlotte's artwork littered her refrigerator. "Of course, I didn't know you would come looking for us… but I'm glad you did. You look half way out Death's door." At this he had to speak. He couldn't have her thinking that he had sought her out. That simply would not do.

"I did not… I would never come looking for you." She did not allow him to finish.

"Yes, yes, of course not. It's doesn't matter, anyway. Here, you must be hungry. Eat your fill and I will fix you a place to sleep." She had been bustling around the kitchen while she spoke to him, placing something in a small microwave above the sink, and then placing what seemed to be some sort of pasta dish in front of him. "And there's always more if you need it. Don't be afraid to ask." The small woman gave him a smile and then exited the room.

Severus was baffled. She did not know him. How could she trust him so easily, so wholly? He could not bring himself to trust anyone that completely, even after he had known them for years. Such blind faith was foolish. Dangerous, even. What did she think she was playing at? He was a murderer, wasn't he? For all she knew he could sneak into her and her daughters rooms in the middle of the night and kill them both.

At that moment, his stomach gave a pang that nearly doubled him over, and the aroma of the food in front of him became a sweet melody, beckoning him towards it. In spite of large amounts of self control, Severus could not deny himself when the ticket to his satisfaction lay right in front of him. He would contemplate the Granger girl later.

Even as his fork raised to his lips he had to stop it. Was she the Granger girl anymore? She had a child, a home. Where was her husband? And the child, approximately three years old, must have been born not a year after the war had ended. Surely she had not married Weasley. As much as he disliked the girl, seeing her waste her brilliant mind with someone like Ronald Weasley was enough to make him sick. And besides, the child did not have the trademark red Weasley hair. It was blonde as corn silk. Who then…

He put the fork in his mouth and tried to push those thoughts out of his head. From the very moment he felt the spaghetti and sauce slide down his throat, Severus was lost. He ate ravenously. He ate like a man who had never seen food before in his life. And, in fact, it felt as if he hadn't seen food in his life. Two days is a long time when you're hungry.

He was nearly finished with his plate when Hermione entered the room again. "I've fixed up the guest room for you. You're welcome to sleep as long as you need. Do you have any family, sir? Anyone that I can call for you… do I know you?" She had been looking at him in the face for the entirety of her little speech, and her question caught her entirely off guard. She was looking at his eyes with the most curious expression on her face. He could practically see the cogs working in her head. She had the same look that she used to get all those years ago when he asked her a difficult question in class. The Hermione Granger look. He knew it well.

Suddenly afraid, Severus downcast his eyes and stared at the empty plate. He was quite full, but felt the urge to eat more. The starving man's curse, he supposed. "No… I've never…" The moment he spoke, he knew he was damned. Now that she was suspicious, his voice did nothing for him but give her the answers she had been searching for.

"Professor."

"No."

"What has happened to you?"

"No."

"Where have you been?"

"No!"

He pushed himself away from the table and tried to rise. He had to get away. He didn't know why he was so afraid of this woman –this child- but the fear within him was deep. This girl knew him. She knew his sins more than most. He wasn't sure if he could stand the hate reflected in her eyes. Those eyes that were so similar to her daughters, those eyes that contained so much unconditional love and trust. He couldn't stand it.

His legs wobbled as he rose, and he only managed a step and a half before he collapsed to the ground. She was at him in a second, helping him back to his feet and walking with him to the living room. The Granger girl laid him on one of her overstuffed couches and sat on the floor, staring at him with a new strange expression on her face. He had never seen this look before. Dead Merlin, he hoped it wasn't pity. He would have to kill her if that was the case. He couldn't stomach pity, no matter how bad his situation was.

"Mama!" Granger had looked about to speak when a small voice came from the entrance to what looked to be a staircase. Severus could just see it from his place on the couch.

"Charlotte, dear. You're supposed to be in bed." The little girl came into view. Her blonde hair was wild with sleep, the long shirt that served as her bedclothes said 'sugar, spice, and everything nice'. Her mouth fell open when she saw him. He almost groaned.

"Hello, Mister. Why you here?"

"This is Mister Snape, Charlotte. He's going to be staying with us for a while." The little girl looked at him for only a moment before replying.

"Otay, Mama. Does he want to read me a story?" He almost laughed at that. Almost. The look on her face was so sincere it was absurd. She honestly could not think of a reason that he would be there other than that he wanted to read her a story.

"No, darling. Is that why you're still awake. Do you need another story?" The little girl put her fist to her mouth and nodded. Hermione gave a little laugh and rose. "Come along then. And this time you have to promise mommy that you won't get out of your bed. You need your rest. Excuse me for a moment, Professor." She gathered her daughter up deftly and carried her back up the stairs.

It was strange to see little Hermione Granger as a mother. He could still see her in his mind's eye as she was when he first saw her. Her hair shoulder length and uncontrollably frizzy. Her teeth bucked, her limbs gawky and awkward. Her voice back then was high and irritating. A know-it-all's voice.

But motherhood seemed to suit her. Her hair was much longer now, nearly to her waist and not even a fraction as wild as it used to be. She was quite pretty in a plain way, and she had softened significantly. Her voice was soft and soothing –the voice of a mother. He had never known that kind of tone from his own mother, but he could recognize it in a moment. Yes, motherhood suited her.

The little girl was interesting as well. She could not be very old at all. A little pixie of a girl, she was. She seemed rather advanced for her age, but who could expect any less from the daughter of Hermione Granger. Irritating know-it-all or not, she was the brightest girl of her age. Of course her daughter would follow in her footsteps.

Severus' mind froze when he heard her descending the stairs again. Her feet made little noise on the steps but they squeaked all the same. She crossed the room quietly and resumed her position on the floor by his head. "I'm sorry, Professor. She sometimes doesn't understand that the world does not revolve around her."

"Sounds like someone else I know." The reply was automatic, and Severus felt a bit of his old self coming back at the look in her eyes. He tried to push himself to a sitting position, but she raised a hand and pressed him back down.

"No. Please stay here tonight, Professor. I know you don't want to accept my help, but please. I couldn't live with myself if I let you walk out of here in the condition you're in." Severus sneered at her. Stupid self-serving Gryffindor, using him to stop her guilt. He did not like being a charity case.

"Save your nobility for someone who cares, Miss. Granger. Or are you a Missus, now?" A flush came to the tops of her cheeks, making her look a bit like a beet.

"Still as pleasant as ever, I see." She flashed him a small smile before answering his question, "No. I'm still… I've not married." The confession seemed to take a lot out of her, and she averted her eyes. Though he was laying on her couch, nearly incapacitated with fatigue, it was easy to fall back into his old roll. He was the professor and she was the ignorant little pupil. The feeling was exhilarating.

"I see." Was all he said. It was all he needed to say. The blush on her face deepened a fraction. They sat in silence for a moment. Then she spoke again.

"I didn't know they had released you. I would have… I've been telling them for years that you didn't deserve being locked up in that place. I guess they finally listened." Severus' mind stopped. She had been… but that meant… the benefactor was…

Oh, Merlin.

"Miss. Granger, why would you do such a thing? I am a murderer, Miss. Granger. A criminal. I, more than most, deserved to be in Azkaban prison. Do not tell me that…"

"You never deserved that, professor. Harry told us everything you did… everything you went through. You should have been hailed as a hero, not locked away. I've been appealing to the Ministry for years. I suppose I must be glad that they finally listened. But, Professor, how are you in such a state? I would have thought…"

"No one wants to hire a murderer, Miss. Granger. Surely you are not as thick as all that. I killed one of the most beloved men in the Wizarding world. You may be willing to forgive and forget, but there are very few people in the world as magnanimous as you."

"Everyone deserves a second chance, Professor." Severus snorted and gave no reply. Her noble responses and level head were annoying him to no end. Who the hell did she think she was, presuming things like that? He was Severus fucking Snape. He was not one to be pitied, he was not one of her charity cases. No doubt she felt right good about herself, doing her little bit of good. Satisfied and feeling quite the saint. It was almost enough to make him sick.

"Do you think you are feeling well enough to get to the guest room? You're welcome to stay as long as you like. There's a bathroom attached, so you can shower if you'd like, and feel free to anything in the kitchen." He didn't answer again, so she slipped a hand under his shoulders and practically hoisted him from his position on the couch. He walked a little steadier than before, only resting part of his weight on the girl. It was a short walk to the room she had given him.

It was a small, cozy room. The covers on the bed had been turned down, and a small lamp on the bedside table provided all the lighting in the room. A dresser stood on the right side, a door stood open on the left. He could only assume that it lead to the bathroom she had spoken of.

"I'll leave you to it, Professor. If you need anything, don't hesitate to call for me." She turned to leave, but he stopped her.

"What happened to Charlotte's father, Miss. Granger?" His curiosity had been piqued the moment she said that she wasn't married. He simply had to know.

"Let's just say having a child wasn't high on his list of things to do before he was twenty. I haven't seen him in years." The sad look on her face told him all he needed to know. The boy had left her, whoever he was. Had she really been alone all these years? The idea was almost sad. Well, it would be, if Severus was capable of sympathy. But he wasn't. "Goodnight, Professor." She said softly, and closed the door behind her.

He sneered after her and then simply stood in the place where she had left him. What was he to do? The bed and shower were calling to him as if they had actual voices with which to beckon. He hadn't had a decent wash or sleep in months. With a twinge of –was it embarrassment, he didn't know- he realized that he must smell.

It took only moments for him to be in the bathroom with the door shut and the water in the shower running. He let out a long sigh of relief the moment the water hit his skin. It felt very human to be clean again, more human than he had felt in years. The girl had left generic soap and shampoo in the shower for him, and he was glad for it. It had very little scent, but smelling of soap would be better than smelling of grime. That was for damn sure.

He finished his wash more quickly than he would have liked, but he did not like the idea of being venerable in a stranger's shower for longer than necessary. He exited the shower quickly, wrapping a towel around his waist, and exited the bathroom. He avoided looking at himself in the mirror as he passed it. He didn't like looking in the mirror at the best of times, when his hair had been black, his face clean shaven, and his physique toned. He was an old man after his years in prison, and much about him had changed. He hated to see that change in himself.

He picked up his tattered robes on the way out, and threw them onto the bed once he was back in the bedroom. He felt fresh and clean like he hadn't felt in years. It was a wonderful, invigorating feeling. In spite of his exhaustion, he felt refreshed beyond words. His robes, laying on the bed, seemed to taunt him. They were filthy and old. He had not had a new set of robes since he left Azkaban.

His gaze lifted a fraction and he caught sight of the chest of drawers across the room. Chances were it was empty, waiting for someone -who was a true guest- to fill it with their clothing. But it wouldn't hurt to check. He crossed the room, holding the towel at his waist, and used his other hand to open the top drawer. He could not help but let out a small grunt of surprise to find garments there. The top item, once he lifted it out, appeared to be a long, soft pair of sleeping pants. They seemed to be softer than anything he had ever felt, though he knew they were no different from ordinary sleeping pants. They were black, as well, which made him think that Granger had transfigured them specifically for him. When had she done this? His scowl deepened.

Nevertheless, he stepped into the pants and gave a sigh at the sensation of soft, clean cloth on his skin. The next garment was a similarly soft and black short sleeved shirt. While he had never worn such a casual garment, it was better than his robes. So he donned it.

It took no time at all for Severus to find himself in the bed. It was more comfortable than anything he had ever felt, or so it seemed. His body ached and his limbs sunk into the bed like lead weights. Surely it wouldn't hurt if he closed his eyes. Only for a moment. His eyes closed after half a moment, and he found himself drifting off into blissful darkness.

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Severus woke –it couldn't have been more than a few hours later- and was immediately furious with himself. He threw the covers away from his body and rose. How could he have allowed his guard to drop like that? All manner of things could have happened while he slept like a baby in this woman's home. How did he know that she was not in her room calling the aurors, or plotting a way to kill him in his sleep?

Because you know she's not like that, you old fool. Quit projecting onto her.

He shook away the voice in his head and crossed the room, flinging the door open. The house was silent. It was still very late, perhaps in the wee hours of the morning. The little family would not rise for quite a while.

For some reason, the idea of Hermione Granger sleeping peacefully above enraged him. What right did she have to trust him so? So readily, so unconditionally. It was foolish, to say the least. The stupid little girl trusted him. He would have to show her just how stupid she really was.

His chest burning, he stumbled through the house. He searched –in a small handbag he saw on the living room table, in the drawers in the kitchen- and finally he found what he was looking for. In the pockets of a small, light autumn jacket –a coin purse. He weighed it in his hands. It felt as if it contained more money than he had made in his entire six months of freedom. Enough to sustain him for a long time, the way he lived. For a moment, he thought. He thought about Granger. About those honest, whiskey colored eyes that she had given to her daughter. Her mass of hair and her pretty face. She was so fortunate, so loved, so.. everything he was not. A streak of something ripped through his chest and he clenched his fist around the money.

She really was a stupid girl. Stupid to trust a man she had always hated. Stupid to trust a murderer. Stupid to trust someone like him –someone who had nothing to lose. Stupid, stupid, stupid girl. He stood for a moment, thinking, and then he made up his mind.

He ran.

He made his way out the door and shut it behind him quickly. He took off down the steps, down the path, and onto the road. He ran like a man with the hellhounds at his heels. And, in fact, he nearly did. He must have ran for only moments before a sense of foreboding fell over him.

And then, suddenly, he heard a crack. And then another half a moment after that. He hardly had time to register this fact when his arms were seized and his run was brought, abruptly, to a halt.

"Reduced to thievery now, are we Snape?" A strange man came from the left of him, grabbing the coin purse from his hand that was loosened with shock. "You forget that the conditions of your parole inform us whenever you break the law." His heart was pounding in his throat. He had done it. They were finally going to bring him back to Azkaban. Took them long enough.

"The money was given to me." He blurted. He did not know what made him say it, but for some reason he felt the need to defend himself. "She knew I needed money. This was a gift." Both men holding his arms simply laughed, and began to walk.

"We'll see about that. Come on. Before we take you to the ministry you're going to take this money back to where it belongs." Granger. Damn.

They approached the small cottage house and the bigger of the two men -the one with his left arm and the coin purse in his hand- rapped loudly on the door. He had to knock twice more, and ring the doorbell thrice before the door finally opened. There stood Granger, in all her glory, her hair messy –like her daughters had been, Severus mused- and her eyes bleary. They widened when she saw who was at her door.

"Professor, what-"

"Ma'am, we caught this criminal running from your home. He had this." The big man –Severus had begun to call him Hulk in his mind- dangled the coin purse in front of her face. Her eyes widened a fraction, and she stared at Severus in disbelief. He couldn't look her in the face.

"The best part of it, Ma'am," the other began, "he says you gave it to him. Says you felt sorry for his plight and gave him your money out of the goodness of your-"

"That's right." All three men's heads snapped to look at her, now. She had a hard, determined look in her eyes. He had seen that look before, too. He couldn't believe that she was doing this.

"Ma'am, this man is a criminal. The charms would not have been set off if-"

"There must be something wrong with your charms, then. This man was a guest in my home, and I told him he was welcome to anything I owned." She did not quaver as she said this, and looked none the worse for the lie. She always had been a cheeky little brat. "So you see, sirs. You have made a grave mistake. I am quite glad for the job you have done, but you should probably let him go. I am sure he does not appreciate being held for a crime he did not commit." The two aurors, had Severus been able to see their faces, were probably looking at her with twin looks of dumb confusion.

"Ma'am, this man-"

"I understand perfectly what he has done in the past. But he has one thing now. If you do not let him go, I shall have to file a report." The flaming look in her eyes would make the best of men crumble. Severus felt the grip on his arms slacken, and then disappear. The Hulk pressed the money back into Hermione's grip, but then hesitated as he made to leave.

"Call us, will ya? If he tries anything." He leaned in close for this part, as if trying to make it so that Severus couldn't hear. Severus scowled.

"I will. Thank you very much, sir." And then the damnable little chit rose onto her toes and gave Hulk a kiss on the cheek. The man looked very pleased with himself as he and his partner pushed passed Snape and, with a crack, disappeared when they reached the bottom step. Severus stood on the top step, deliberately looking anywhere but at Granger. He could feel her eyes burning holes in his face. But he would not look at her. He could not. Lightly, he felt her push something into his hand.

Looking down, he saw the coin purse.

But remember this, my brother; see in this some higher plan.

He had to look at her now. He was vexed to see that her eyes were full of tears. "Take it. Take it and do not argue. I don't know what you could have experienced that would push you to this but… take it." She used both of her hands to push his hand closed around the money. For a fraction of a second, Severus fought the urge to throw it back in her face. But he resisted. She had just saved him from Azkaban for the second time. That fact, and that fact alone stayed his hands.

They stood there for a moment, staring at each other. Neither seemed to know what to do with the other. Severus wanted desperately to leave, but her eyes kept him paralyzed. Her tears had not spilled, and for that he was grateful. He could not abide her tears –he never could. But she was stronger than that. She would not cry in front of him. Of that he was sure. In one swift motion, he wrenched his hand from her grip and turned on the spot.

He made it to the second step on her porch before he heard her voice again.

"But you must promise me, Severus." He halted as she used his first name for the first time in her life, "you will use that money to do some good for yourself. The next time I see you… try to take better care of yourself. The world is not as hopeless as you think it is, and people are not as cruel. Open your heart a little, and you will be surprised at what you can do." Severus snarled, but did not reply.

You must use this precious silver to become an honest man.

He walked away, down the rest of the steps and back down the path. His heart was heavy with her words. Who was she to pretend that she knew what his motives were, or what went on in his head? She knew nothing, noting of his life. Who did she think she was, telling him to open up his heart? He knew what came of an open heart, and none of it was good.

With a scowl on his face, but more money in his hands than he had in a long while, Severus Snape disappeared in the night. He didn't know how different things would be when he next crossed paths with Hermione Granger.

I have bought your soul for God.

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Well, that's it for the second chapter. Thank you, once again, to the people who reviewed for the last one. Reviews make my day.

If there are any questions, about this story or anything else, feel free to ask in a review, or to just message me. I promise I'll answer as best as I possibly can. I can't promise to answer questions about plot, though. I'd like for that to be a surprise.

Thank you all again, and I hope you have a wonderful day.

Xoxo, Woodwinked