Hello loves,
I just wanted to bring something to attention before I begin this next chapter. While I am very good at taking criticism and very much appreciate it, I felt that others probably were thinking the same thing as this unnamed prick, so I would bring it up.
1. The reason that I gave Hermione a muggle job while in Australia as a Nurse is because the time period between her leaving and her returning back to England is SIX YEARS (If you havent noticed by the title of this fic...). Now, I am American, meaning my knowledge of education and timing when it comes to Nursing and Doctoring may different from different countries, but its pretty damn extensive in these regards. By this, I mean, that here in America, if someone were to become a licensed doctor, it takes 4 Year of undergrad... plus another 4 years of graduate school... plus another year or more of residency. Thats a total of nine (plus) years of MUGGLE education.
The reason that she became a nurse is because it is entirely understandable for her to be able to get at least an Associates (2 year) degree, or even a Bachelors (4 year) degree within the time that she spent in Australia (although I dont know if that is any different in Australia, as I am writing and basing my knowledge off of American education).
The reason that I wrote Draco as having become a full-fledged healer during the 6 year time span is because I dont bloody know what the time schedule is for a fucking healer it is a goddamned fictional story I will write this anyway I damn well please, thank you very much.
2. Regarding your lovely comment of "Get a Beta, you really need it." Ahem... welcome to the lovely world of fanfiction, where many of you lovely authors do have Betas. That is absolutely spectacular for you. However, this is a little side hobby for me. One where, I quite often, end up forgetting about the stories I have started because, surprisingly enough, I do have a very complicated and time consuming life OFF OF THE INTERNET.
Mind. Blown.
Let me introduce to you some of the things I do on the daily basis: I go to work. Crazy. Im a responsible adult with a stable job that expects me to be there every day for the scheduled hours. Wow. I also have a family, who expect to see me more than once every couple of months. I have my own personal projects I am working on, and hope to one day publish that are WAYYYY higher on my priority list than this website. I have friends. I have hobbies. I have responsibilities. I have relationships. I have my fucking cat, which trumps your opinionated ass.
So, no. I dont have a beta. Yes, I write directly onto the Fanfic site. No, I dont add apostrophes to my contractions because Im lazy. Yes, I do love your criticism, please keep it coming, but moral of the story, I couldnt give a flying fuck what the hell you thought of me, or this story.
Thank you, have a splendid evening, hope you enjoy this chapter.
Golden tendrils of light snaked their way across the dark oak wood floors of the bedroom, climbing up the side of the large bed and over the plush, white comforter to the figure hidden beneath the mass of comfortable blankets. A tangled nest of chestnut curls peaked out from beneath the duvet, the pale skin of an arm visible beside it. A fluff of orange fur was nestled beside the shape beneath the blankets, its puff of a tail twitching back and forth lightly as soft purrs filled the room. It was early morning in Notting Hill, the sun just beginning to rise over the buildings, the sky still stained pink and orange and purple.
The figure upon the bed moved, kicking a foot out at the end of the bed before quickly yanking it back beneath the covers with a soft moan. She rolled, the orange fluff of fur lifting its head to send a glare in her direction before getting up and hopping off the bed, slipping between the crack of the door and disappearing from sight. His owner rolled, yanking the covers with her and covered her eyes with her arm against the bright light of her morning sun. It had been a long time since she had drank, and while it hadnt even been that much through the night, a soft pounding ached behind her eyes and her stomach growled, empty and wishing to be fed. She moaned once more, wondering if she should just roll over and go back to bed, but knew that her body would never allow it. She had spent years training her bodily clock to wake her up this early, and no matter how much she wished to stay in bed all day, she would never go back to sleep.
Hermione remained there for a few moments longer, staring at the white caulking of her ceiling before she threw back the covers, frowning down at herself dressed in nothing but her knickers and strode towards her adjacent bathroom, shutting the door behind her. The night before was a blur of memories, of drinking and socializing and interviews upon boring interviews. She could remember all but shoving Harry and Ron through the flew back to their respective homes. She could remember speaking with the Minister, and with ghosts from her past.
And then she could remember him.
He came up beside her without making a sound, appearing as if he had stepped out of the shadows behind her. She jumped, turning halfway towards him with a shocked expression before cooling her features into well-trained neutrality. Blank. Emotionless. He was smirking at her, smirking in the way that he had always done, looking her over appreciatively before smiling and nodding to whatever the wizard she had previously been speaking with only moments before had said, taking her elbow within his large, warm hand and guiding her gently away towards the side of the lobby. She blinked, frowned, wondering why she let him, but it was far too late to retreat now. She gripped her glass tightly, frowning up at him as he stopped and turned to look at her.
Grown, he had grown. He had always been taller than her, taller than Harry even. In school he had been slim, lean like Ron but in what could only be described as a sophisticated, toned way. Where Ron had always been gangly, Malfoy was... refined. Yet, now, he had muscles she had never expected to see on his body. His shoulders were rounded with muscle, his biceps well developed, his chest hard with corded muscle. He was far from looking similar to a rugby player, or body builder, but there was definitely a definition there she hadnt expected to see. His hair was only slightly shorter, styled nicely, his jaw more defined, his lashes longer. He smirked, shoving his hands into his pockets.
"Granger."
"Malfoy." She bit back automatically. Guarded, she was guarded. If he knew... she would lose everything. It would be so much easier if he wasnt here, if she wasnt here, if she never returned. Maybe she should go back to Australia- "Is there a reason you pulled me over here?" Malfoy nodded slightly, glancing towards the rest of the party before back to her. What was that emotion in his eyes?
"I was actually curious as to the reason that you moved." Of course he was. She sighed through her nose.
"Personal reasons." She stated automatically, taking a step backwards, ready to flee. "If youll excus-"
"It wasnt because of me, was it?" He asked with a slight frown, "Because of that night?" Hermione blinked. Emotionless. Blank. Dont show anything.
"No, Malfoy. It wasnt." He didnt seem to buy it. He took a step forward, a larger step than she had taken backward. He was now officially within her personal space. Hermione didnt realize she was holding her breath until she was forced to inhale, and with it came the spicy, musky, woodsy scent of Draco Malfoy that she had never been able to get out of her head. Her fingers began to shake.
"Are you sure?" He whispered, grey eyes swirling with an unknown emotion. He watched her, brows creased ever so slightly. She felt his fingers on her wrist, warm and comforting. Memories flashed across her mind. The feeling of his hands, surprisingly warm, across the skin between her shirt and her jeans. The feeling of his lips against her neck. Their bodies pressed together between grey satin sheets.
"Positive."
She shook her head, going about her morning routine, chasing away the faint hangover that plagued her with a steamy shower and painkillers. She made a mental note to stock up on some pepper-up potion the next time she went to Diagon Alley. Once fully showered, her teeth brushed and the barest of makeup dusting her face, Hermione stepped back into her bedroom with a towel wrapped around her drying hair and began a thorough search of her closet for comfortable clothing to wear for the rest of the day.
She ultimately decided upon a nice pair of dark washed jeans, matched with a dark green top that paired nicely with her lightly tanned skin. She tousled her chocolate curls with the towel before tossing it onto her bed, flicking her wrist with a silent spell that dried her styled her hair into voluminous, layered waves (a spell she had perfected during her time in Australia). That settled, Hermione exited her bedroom, walking down the hall to her living room, to the stone and wood fireplace was built into her wall. She slipped on a pair of flats, grabbed a handful of floo powder, stepped into the fireplace and with a loud 'THE BURROW', disappeared into brilliant green flames.
She appeared in a familiar building that was mostly wood and a variety of knickknacks. On the slightly slumping couch were a pair of knitting needles suspended in the air knitting away at what could only be a Weasley sweater, already working towards Christmas. In the kitchen sink was a sponge working away at a set of pots and pans while the silverware was being dried by a dish towel. A rather plump woman wearing a faded dress of pastel pink and lavender flowers, with slightly greying hair rounded the corner around the fireplace, an apron around her waist and a smile on her motherly face, raising up her arms to pull Hermione into a bone-crushing hug.
"Oh, good morning, dear. Did you have a nice time last night?" She asked, pulling away to hold Hermione by her shoulders and look her over. Mrs. Weasley pursed her lips, tilting her head slightly. "You're looking a bit peaky. Are you hungry? We've only just finished breakfast, but I can make you something." Hermione laughed and shook her head, thanking Mrs. Weasley.
"Im fine, thank you. I had a great time." The elder witch nodded, pleased, letting go of Hermione and motioning around the corner, further into the living room.
"She's coloring for a bit, hasnt gotten up to bathe quite yet, we werent sure when you would be coming to pick her up."
"That's fine, Mrs. Weasley. Thank you so much for watching her." She waved off the comment, shooing Hermione away from her with a small smile. Mrs. Weasley loved having children in her house, and now that her own were all up and gone, she did have a couple of grandchildren, but it wasnt quite the same. Hermione walked around the fireplace to the living room and smiled.
Sitting on the floor before the coffee table, with crayons strewn about, was a little girl, barely five years old. She knelt on the floor, completely absorbed in the drawing before her. She was gifted with an ability that a cousin of hers had, a rare genetic mutation that Hermione, herself, had only seen twice in her life in a lively, beautiful woman and the son she and her husband had left an orphan, soon turning seven. Her curly hair, at the moment, was the color of a juicy plum, magenta with hints of purple in the undertones. Her skin was a shade or two paler than she usually kept it, freckles dotting her cheeks and nose.
Hermione knew the child before her better than she knew her own self. She knew the dainty little hands, so delicate and warm, and the way they were almost always wrapped around her own. She knew the feeling of her hair between her fingers, those almond shaped eyes that seemed to always flick from one color to another because she could never decide on which for more than a few moments. She knew the feeling of that little body curled against hers at night, when she was having trouble sleeping and would come into her bedroom. She smiled.
It didnt take long for the little girl to realize she was no longer alone, tilting her head up and looking up at Hermione with wide, indigo colored eyes. She blinked, registered who stood before her and a wide, gap-toothed smile split across her face. "Mumma!" She abandoned her coloring, leaping around the coffee table and slammed into Hermione's legs, wrapping herself around them like a pretzel, looking up at her mother with wide, sparkling eyes. "Mumma, I missed you!" Hermione laughed, leaning down awkwardly to place a kiss on her daughter's forehead.
"I missed you too, munchkin. Did you have a good time with Grandma Molly?" Molly Weasley was by no means Natasha Granger's biological grandmother, but the woman had become a second mother to Hermione, and would be in their lives until the day that she passed. It only felt right to give her the title as much as her own mother. Natasha nodded up at her mother, detaching herself from her leg and raced back over to her coloring book, holding it up and showing her mother all of the pictures that she and Grandma Molly had colored. Hermione listened, nodding along and praising her daughter when necessary.
"And then we made cookies too, but we sent some over to Uncle George and Aunt Angelina and then to Uncle Bill and Aunt Fleur." Hermione nodded, gathering up her daughters supplies as she listened. "I think we still have some though! You should try one, mum, they're really good!" Hermione laughed, looking down at her daughter that was bouncing on her toes, glancing towards the kitchen excitedly. She knew her daughter, she wasnt talking about the cookies because she wanted Hermione to try one. She was talking about them because it was her way of asking to have one, without blatantly asking. While Hermione usually wouldnt let Natasha have a cooking at eight-thirty in the morning, she was feeling rather generous and gave her daughter a small nod of the head.
Indigo eyes widened with surprise and happiness, and with a flash of magenta hair, the little girl was out of the room and into the kitchen, prattling off to Mrs. Weasley about how 'her mumma just said she could have a cookie, so could she please have a cookie, please, please, pleeeeeease?' Hermione followed soon after, a handful of crayons in her hand and smiled over at Mrs. Weasley, who had her hands on her hips, looking down at the energetic child before her with a raised brow.
"She can have a cookie, Mrs. Weasley." She assured, shoving the crayons and coloring book into the bag sitting on a kitchen chair. Mrs. Weasley shot her a look, but reached into the cookie jar next to the stove and held it out to Natasha, who politely thanked her before shoving the entire cookie into her mouth in one bite, causing her cheeks to puff out and small crumbs to fall from her pink lips.
"Natasha Emily, is that how we eat cookies?" Hermione chastised, placing her hands on her hips. Her daughter looked over at her mother with wide eyes, pausing for a moment before she chewed quickly and swallowed the entire thing, chasing it all down with a glass of milk that floated over to her, courtesy of Mrs. Weasley who chuckled beside her.
"No, mumma." She mumbled, once she had finished, reaching over the lip of the counter in attempt to place the glass directly in the sink.
"So what are we going to do next time?" Her mother asked, coming up beside her and taking the glass to rest in the sink for her. Her daughter sighed, looking guilty.
"Take bites." Hermione nodded, pleased and tousled her daughters curls, that were much easier to manage than her own.
"Thank you. Go gather up your things so we can say goodbye to Grandma Molly." She gave her daughter a soft swat on the butt, ushering her back up the stairs to Ginny's old bedroom to gather up her clothes and belongings from the night before. She came up to Mrs. Weasley's side, reaching into the cookie jar for one of her own, and leaned back against the counter as she watched Mrs. Weasley begin putting things away from breakfast. There was a pause for a moment, as they listened to the patter of Tasha's little feet race up the stairs, before Mrs. Weasley turned to her.
"She's gotten so big." Hermione nodded. She had.
It had been only a few months after Hermione had given birth to Tasha that she returned back to the Burrow with the little bundle of joy in her arms to celebrate Harry and Ginny's wedding. While all of her friends and secondary family had been aware that Hermione had been pregnant, and thus had been the reason for her up and leave from the country, they had only seen Tasha in the pictures she had sent via owl from Australia (the letters she did send were relatively far and few between because damn that is a long trip for an owl, the poor things). It had been the one time that anyone had met Tasha before she finally came back just a few nights ago. They would all be converging again the following day at the burrow for weekly Sunday dinner, where everyone was extremely excited to see Hermione and Tasha again.
The announcement of who, exactly, Tasha's father was, was taken quite a bit harder than the announcement of her pregnancy. Not that she had been surprised. Harry and Ron had, by far, taken it the hardest compared to the others. While the others were skeptical, but politely reassuring and supportive, the two idiots she called best friends had thrown the biggest hissy fit she had ever witnessed. Even her five year old didnt throw temper tantrums the same way the two adult males did. Eventually, however, all was accepted once they had actually met little Tasha, and while they still werent quite happy about the situation, the understanding that there was nothing that could be changed finally dawned on them.
Like usual, it took more time than necessary, but they finally came around.
"She's going to love Teddy." Hermione giggled around a bite of her cookie.
"She already does. They write to each other all the time." It was true. At around three years old, Tasha had come to Hermione asking why she was so different from everyone she knew. She asked why she had to keep her hair one, certain color, when they went out in public with muggles, why she couldnt change her eyes, why it scared people when she grew cat ears and a tail like Crookshanks. And while she explained, in the best way she possibly could, that it wasnt something many muggle people saw, so they were afraid, she decided to reassure her by letting her know she had a cousin that could do the same thing.
That was the beginning of the beautiful friendship between Natasha Granger and Teddy Lupin.
Hermione had yet to tell her daughter that she would actually be meeting Teddy tomorrow, at their family gathering. She wanted to keep it a surprise.
Natasha came back down to the kitchen, stumbling over the stairs and falling on her face, to which the older witches jumped and lunged towards her, but the young child simply jumped back up with a wide grin and raced towards her mother again. Hermione rolled her eyes, wondering where, in the world, this child got her energy from. She knew for a fact that she, herself, had not been that energetic as a child and she had a hard time imagining that her father had been. Tasha came up to stand beside her, carrying the small, pink backpack on her shoulders and bouncing on her toes. Mrs. Weasley chuckled under her breath, reaching forward and wrapping both of them in a warm hug.
"We'll see you tomorrow, dears." She said, pulling back, kissing Hermione on the cheek.
"Do you want me to bring anything?" Hermione asked, with a small frown. Mrs. Weasley scoffed, shoving her lightly in the direction of the door with a shake of her head. Hermione knew that Molly would never let her make anything to bring over, cooking and preparation were specifically her responsibilities. Hermione sighed, smiling slightly, taking Tasha's hand in her own as they stepped out into the yard with Mrs. Weasley at the door. The elder woman looked out into her garden and gave a frustrated sigh.
"Remind me to have the boys de-gnome the garden tomorrow, would you dear?" Hermione giggled and nodded, holding onto her daughter tightly to prevent her from racing off towards the garden and the gnomes that bounced around the plants.
"I will, Mrs. Weasley. See you tomorrow." Mrs. Weasley watched as the two women walked across the yard until they reached the apparation point, to where they disappeared from view with a crack.
It was several hours later that Hermione Granger found herself standing in Diagon Alley with a hyper five year old clinging to her hand, pointing at every little thing she saw. While they had indeed, gone to the wizarding shops in Australia, it was nothing compared to Diagon Ally and the place she had grown up visiting. She felt a sense of familiarity and the feeling of being home as she walked through the alley with Tasha, reigning her in as she tried to bounce off in every direction to see the cats and the owls and the brooms and the wands and the jewelry and-
"Mum! Ice Cream!" Hermione couldnt help the smile that lit her face as she body belt towards the side, dragged down by the weight of her child pulling against her. She pulled her back gently and leaned down to Tasha's height, brushing a strand of, now sky blue, hair from her freckled face. There were three key features that Hermione and Natasha shared: the almond shape of their eyes, the freckles dotting their cheeks and nose and the cupids-bow shape of their mouths and smiles. Her eyes had changed to a bright, forest green speckled with yellow and brown, her skin a few shades darker than it was before. She looked up at her mother pleadingly, lower lip jutting out slightly.
"You already had a cookie this morning, Tasha." Hermione said. "I think you've had enough." Tasha's eyes grew wider and her frown deepened.
"But mumma, I havent had ice cream in forever!" Hermione sighed. While she spoiled her daughter absolutely rotten, she didnt give her as much sugar and sweets that other children consumed. It was true that it had been a while since either of them had had ice cream. Glancing down the Alley, she paused for a moment. Tasha had been exceptionally good and on her best behavior since the move. She, while not quite understanding exactly what was happening, had been excited to at least be able to see Grandma Molly and live in her new room at the flat. She was being a very good girl for Hermione.
"How about this," she sighed, turning back to her daughter with a soft smile. She was such a pushover for this girl, "how about we go run all of the errands that mummy has to run and then before we go home, we can get ice cream?" Natasha's eyes lit up like fireworks and she nodded excitedly, gripping Hermione's hand even tighter and walking beside her down the alley.
Hermione, when she wanted to, was exceptionally good at avoiding the public eye and reporters. While it was inevitable that she and Natasha were probably going to be photographed at some point during their visit to the Alley (which she had completely prepared herself for), after years of sneaking out after hours during Hogwarts with the boys, and racing around the country avoiding snatchers and Death Eaters, she had become rather adept at losing a tailing reporter. She and Tasha stopped into Flourish and Blotts, to of course pick up some much needed books, as both girls were life-long book lovers. They zipped quickly into Eyelops for owl treats, Madam Malkins for a new robe for Tasha, Slug and Jiggers for the long list of ingredients and potions that Hermione needed, as well as a new cauldron from Potage's (since Tasha had accidentally thrown in three beetle carcasses into the potion that Hermione had been mixing, causing the entire thing to explode and her cauldron to crack. While she might have been able to repair it, a new cauldron was needed anyway, giving her the excuse to finally go buy one).
It was only when Hermione passed Twilfitt and Tattings, debating on whether she should stop in for a new set of robes for her new job at the ministry, that she spotted the familiar orange and purple building that had her heart wrenching slightly. Her mind fell back to the war, and the sight of one half of an unbreakable pair lying unmoving on the floor of the Great Hall. She took a steadying breath, pausing and looking down at her daughter, whose eyes were locked on a stall selling pastries. "Tasha?" She asked, catching her daughters attention. Tasha looked up at her mother, giving her a gap-toothed grin, "do you want to go see Uncle George?"
"Uncle George is here!?" Her screech echoed across the alley, jumping up and down, her sky-blue hair turning into a kaleidoscope of energetic pink, red, yellow and orange, her curls falling down past her waist, her eyes turning an even brighter green. Hermione raised a brow and chuckled, nodding, pointing towards the store, where children mingled outside. "Come on, mum!" Hermione let Tasha pull her across the alley to the store that she had spent quite some time in herself. They wound their way through the tangle of children out front, all playing with the newest gadgets and latest means of pranking that Weasley's Wizard Wheezes had to offer.
They hurried inside to the ever-crowded shop, Hermione looking around for the a familiar head of orange-red hair, and found it standing at the stop of the steps that led up to their offices and personal flat above the shop. Hermione reached down, grabbing her daughter around the waist and pulling her tiny body up onto her hip. While she was definitely not a baby anymore, she still remained at a smaller size than most five-year-olds. It was a rare occurance when Tasha would adjust her height, or anything else aside from her eyes and hair. They hurried through the crowd and over to the stairs, ascending quickly. They were halfway up when George and Angelina, the dark skinned beauty to his left, realized they were there.
"Hermione bloody Granger, is that you?" George met them at the top of the steps, wrapping both girls into a tight hug. He kissed her cheek and then turned to Tasha, who was staring at him wide-eyed, a smile on her face. "And you must be Natasha. I have been waiting to see you again for so long!" He kissed her head and Hermione let her down onto the ground, where she continued to stare in awe up at her adoptive uncle. Hermione chuckled.
"What do you say, Tasha?" The little girl blinked and smiled widely.
"Hello, Uncle George. Hello, Aunt Angelina." Angie moved forward and knelt down to Tasha's height, giving her a warm smile, a tight hug and kiss.
"Look at you, big girl. You've grown so much!" They stood there at the top of the stairs for a few moments longer, with George and Angie fawning over Natasha, before they invited them into their kitchen down the hall, telling one of their associates to watch over the shop for a while. They didnt remain long, however, simply stopping for a cup of tea, to which they caught up for a few moments. Hermione asked about the shop, and about little Fred Weasley II, who had been born that year. He was spending the day with Angelina's parents, but Angie assured Hermione that she would meet him the following day at Weasley family dinner. George and Angie asked how moving in had been, and if she was excited to start her new job with the Ministry that following Monday. They asked Natasha how she was doing, and George took an opportunity to show her some of his newest inventions. It was at that point that Hermione decided to bid their leave, with a quick 'See you all tomorrow, and George dont bring any of your inventions', leaving the shop with a bag full of them, anyway.
It was only then that Tasha reminded her about their deal and they stopped at Fortesques for some ice cream. That is when a reporter got a picture of them. They were standing in line, Hermione leaning down to Tasha's height, a hand on her back, pointing up at the sign and explaining what they had as flavors, when a bright light flashed to her right. She blinked, automatically taking her daughter by the shoulders and pulling her to the opposite side of body, turning an icy glare upon the young reporter standing in the doorway of the building. He gave her a crooked grin, raising the camera again, another bright flash blinding her for a moment.
"Ms. Granger! Ms. Hermione Granger, is that your daughter? What's her name? How old is she? Who's the father? Is it Mr. Weasley? Does he know he has a daughter?" Hermione stood up, shoving her hands into her pockets and yanking out a few gold coins, shoving them angrily into the hands of the cashier at the desk, who passed her the two cones of ice cream with somewhat shaky hands, watching her nervously. "Does this mean the two of you are finally getting together? Is that the real reason you came back, Ms. Granger?"
Hermione knelt down to her daughter's height, blocking her view of the reporter in the doorway of Fortescues. Her hair, that had been the blur of color like the sunrise when they had left Uncle George and Aunt Angie, had faded into the same chestnut brown, hinted with copper and chocolate tones as her mother, her eyes darkening into a deep hazel as well. Twins. They could be twins, now. She handed Tasha her ice cream cone, which the little girl took carefully and held it with both hands. "We're going to eat these at home, okay, darling?" Tasha nodded her head warily and let her mother take a hold of the back of her shirt, guiding her in the direction of the door where the reporter was still spouting questions at her, camera raised for another picture. Hermione glared, stepping behind her daughter and to her other side, keeping herself between Tasha and the reporter.
She had the overpowering urge to whip out her wand and send the reporter racing down the alley with a nasty bat boogie hex, but Tasha was there. She wouldnt do anything of the sort with Tasha there. So, Hermione simply stepped out into the alley, with the reporter on their heels and followed the plan that she already had in her head for such an occasion. She lost him.
It didnt take long, the man had less intelligence than the ice cream cone dripping down her hand. She licked it off her fingers, glancing down to her daughter who was quietly and carefully working on her own cone, her appearance not changing at all until they finally flooed back home from the Leaky Cauldron. "That was a reporter?" Tasha asked, hauling herself onto a barstool at the counter in their kitchen. Hermione went around the other side, taking a few more licks of her cone before throwing it away in the trash, half-eaten. She nodded her head. She had talked to Tasha before going to Diagon Alley about the possibility of someone taking pictures of them. She had been as prepared as Hermione. "I dont like them." Hermione giggled, leaning over the counter and planting a kiss on her daughters nose.
"No, darling, mummy doesnt like them either."
Dear, loves.
Hope you enjoy this chapter. I havent had much going on the last couple of days, which is why this is up so quickly after I just uploaded the last one. This might happen every now and then, or it might take a little bit longer, depending. Let me know what you think!
Much Love
