Disclaimer: Only the plot and unrecognizable characters belong to me!

A/N: HELLO EVERYONE, SORRY TO KEEP YOU WAITING, AND SORRY I UPDATED SO LATE! Please enjoy the chapter!


CHAPTER SEVEN


"What are those?" Hermione asked again as she eyed the red potions in Draco's hands.

Draco hands shook from fear or nervousness he had no idea, causing the glass vials in his hands to rattle against each other. He turned around to block Hermione's line of vision using his body and quickly placed his potions into a compartment and zipped it up, pushing some robes over to hide it from plain view.

"Just the uh- energizing potion that's still under development. You know how I hate normal pepper-up potions." He quickly lied, pulling out his wand and cast a few spells to tidy up his room; Align the bed linens, arrange his desk, shut the drawers. While doing so, he discreetly cast a few spells on his potion, transfiguring the contents of the potions to the energizing potion. He could simply transfigure the contents back later. Damn Hermione for catching him.

It was so blatantly obvious that he was lying. She couldn't suppress the hurt that she felt. Draco seemed to be keeping more and more things from her these days, and she hated herself for not being able to find out what they were. Blaise's lips were sealed tight, and she was sure Theodore Nott knew nothing. Could Narcissa know anything?

But there's no use, her mind told her. Narcissa was leaving with Draco to France, so it was impossible for her to confront Narcissa about Draco. Besides, if Narcissa did not know anything, then she would make her worry about her son. What if there was nothing wrong with Draco and it was purely her mind playing with her? Then she would have caused unnecessary worrying on Narcissa's part.

"Energizing potion? Last time I checked, the colour was yellow." She frowned.

"Yes," Draco replied, "They added redcurrant for this one."

Hermione nodded, pretending to accept his lie. Draco frowned at her reaction.

Too easily convinced, he told himself. She would normally ask questions – what does redcurrant do? Why redcurrant?

He had to watch his luggage at all times now; there was no use putting a disillusionment charm over the compartment now to hide it because she saw him put it into the luggage, and if she realized he had intentionally hide the potion, she would suspect something. Blasted woman.

"So, how will you be spending your Christmas? City of Love… Must be romantic isn't it? I bet Narcissa has arranged for you to meet some French ladies… Watch for the veelas, don't want you refusing to come back! Though eet would make me 'appy, ze great ferret, gone once and for all!" Hermione teased, imitating the French accent on purpose.

"I have no idea, Mother vould not let me know, Hermy-own-ninny." Draco replied, annoying her by using Viktor Krum's accent.

"Hey!" Hermione cried. "That's not fair, he can't pronounce it because he's Bulgarian!"

Draco gave her an incredulous look. "Well that's not fair either, they can't speak English properly because they're French!"

Hermione realized how ridiculous she had probably sounded. "Yes, but I didn't make fun of your name!"

Draco scoffed. "Woman, you called me a ferret!"

"Ooooh yes. A ferret is such an insulting name."

"I would think after ten years you would have come up with something much more original. Ferret's getting really old, beaver."

"I'm glad you finally acknowledge you're getting old. See, these aging lines don't really look good on you." Hermione said as she lifted up a hand and traced non-existent wrinkles on Draco's forehead.

Draco tsk-ed and swatted her hand away like it was a fly.

"Besides," Hermione added. "What makes you think beaver is original? You called me that since first year! Ferret was since forth! And how is it that the almighty Draco Holier-than-thou Malfoy can resist not knowing his plans for Christmas?"

Draco grunted, "Mother only let out that we're visiting someone. She's refusing to tell me the rest." Hermione caught a hint of anger in his tone.

"Visiting someone?" She pondered, climbing onto his bed while she watched him walk around his room dumping more random things he wanted to bring into his luggage. "I don't recall you knowing many people in France."

"My mother does." He shrugged, and then sighed. "It's annoying, really, not knowing what's going to happen. It's like Potter without his scar - weird and surreal."

Hermione 'ha-ed' and gave him a teasing smack on his shoulder. Draco gave an impressively timed wince, and Hermione didn't miss it. For some reason, it felt more painful than it was supposed to be.

"What's wrong?" she worriedly asked. "I didn't give you that hard a smack, did I?"

"No," Draco replied, rolling his shoulder. "No, I-" he hissed, jerking away from her touch as she pressed into the back of his shoulder.

Hermione gasped, not daring to touch him just in case she hurt him again. "I'm sorry. L-let me see it, Draco. Something's not right." She moved in front of him, reaching out to untie his tie so that she could unbutton his shirt.

"No." Draco repeated again, holding up a hand and pushing her away. He didn't dare to move his left arm – it hurt too much, as if there was a curved dagger in it, slowing digging deeper and deeper into his flesh. Three, in fact. Three blasted daggers digging into his shoulder, but the pain made it feel like one. "What did you come here for? Definitely not to see me off, you're not that in love with me yet."

Her heart skipped a beat, and the speed increased as if it wasn't already fast-paced with worry. "You're joking, right? You're in pain and you're still teasing me! Draco Malfoy, show me your shoulder." She demanded.

Hermione saw Draco's face flush and anger radiate off his eyes. "Why were you here?" he asked again, sounding eerily calm. That meant he was annoyed and angry with her, and Hermione couldn't understand the sudden change in his mood. Perhaps it was partly due to the pain.

"I was going through the accounts, and I think the records for barley are not right, there are no leftover wastage this year, and I wanted to refer to the past year files, they aren't in the office so I came here." She answered. "Now, show me your shoulder."

"NO!" Draco shouted, shoving her away using his right hand. He managed to hold her in place no matter how hard she struggled.

"Draco!" she shrieked, finally pulling out her wand, but Draco was faster. He snatched it out of her hands before she could utter any spell and flung it out of his door into the living room. Hermione gasped.

"The file is on the shelf in my study. Go." He ordered, turning her around and pushing her out of his room. He knew that she would refuse, but by pushing her out into the living room, he predicted that she would opt to get her wand first, which she did. That gave him enough time. Spotting her wand just beside Draco's couch, Hermione made a mad dive towards it, landing on her side beside it.

"Stupefy!"

Hermione was knocked out cold. She may be fast, but he was faster. He wasn't trained to be a Deatheater for nothing. Ignoring the screaming pain in his shoulder, Draco quickly went into his study and shrunk the files that Hermione needed, putting them into his pocket. He experimented moving his left arm, and realized that it felt fine moving it from elbow down, meaning there was something wrong with only his shoulder, and probably the back. The pain was spreading. He then went to his potions cabinet and got out his company's special remedy sleeping potion, tipping it into Hermione' mouth, pinching her nose so she would have to swallow it.

He brushed away the funny itchy feeling he was having. Was it guilt? No way.

'A Malfoy never feels.'

Shut up, Father. Draco snapped in his mind. He hated times when his Father's voice popped up in his mind, reminding of what Malfoys should and should not do. That man had been dead for more than two years now, why was he still around haunting him? It felt as if he had not put his past behind, had not learnt from his mistakes, and had not tried to change.

Currently, Hermione was still in a stupefied state, and it would take five minutes before the sleeping potion kicked in. It was made that way so that people who took this sleeping potion had time to make themselves comfortable before it kicked in, knocking them out cold. Stuffing his wand into his robe pocket, he gathered Hermione into his right arm and apparated them to her flat, not pausing to think he might flinch himself.

Lucky for him, he arrived safely in one piece instead of having his body parts scattered all around her place. That would be an ungodly sight.

He noticed that she had been working at her kitchen table, where stacks and stacks of files and paperwork were neatly placed. Her accounts notebook, pen, muggle calculator and standard cup of peppermint tea were also there. He placed her onto the chair at the kitchen table, carefully positioning her arms such that her head was lying comfortably in the crook of her arm.

He grunted in pain and gulped as he carelessly moved his left shoulder. Fuck.

He checked his watch. Three minutes left.

He moved towards her shelf in her living room, enlarging the files he took from his study and placing them on top of her shelf. Going back to her side, Draco sighed.

Hermione would hate him for this.

"Legilimens."

He sifted through her memories, carefully avoiding peering into any of them except the one he was looking for. Hermione would kill him if she found out he went through her mind, so he would respect her for not taking the chance and going through her memories.

'You just can't get over the guilt. Stop feeling, Draco.'

He heard his Father's voice again. Taking a deep breath and renewing his focus, Draco found the desired memory.

Hermione was sipping on her peppermint tea, eyes focused on the numbers and fingers expertly pressing away on the calculator. She was going through the numbers of the year as it was coming to an end, and had to produce a report to Draco by the end of the year with details of their profits and losses, and the funding of the company. How much was paid to the workers; how much was spent on ingredients, what ingredients; company wastage; etcetera.

She put down her tea, and peered closely at the numbers, and made a small 'hmm'. Taking a look at the calculator, she kept a mental note of the number and went to her shelf, wondering where last year's account file was. She remembered they bought the same amount of green barley as recorded last year, and used the same amount of it to make the potions. Where did the leftovers go?

Draco stopped there and withdrew from her mind. Half a minute left. That was enough.

Pressing a kiss to her temple, he mumbled, "I'm sorry, Hermione, please forgive me. But I can't let you remember. Obliviate."

He erased her memory to just before she left her seat to go to her shelf. That way, she wouldn't remember ever going to his place and chancing upon his potion or whatever shit is happening to his shoulder. Then, he cast, "rennervate," just in time for her to wake before the sleeping potion kicked in, causing her to promptly fall asleep.

Draco let out a sigh of relief, apparating back to his house. He cursed as he felt the pain bite into his bones, and stumbled towards his room, grunting as he walked into furniture. He prayed again that the obliviation had worked and Hermione did not remember what he had done.

Slowly and carefully, Draco unbuttoned his shirt, first pulling off the right side, then the left. He wasn't a wimp, no, but it really hurt too much for him to move it, as if a Cruciatus curse was contained within his shoulder.

"Oh fuck…" he swore as he saw the back of his shoulder. It seemed as if his wound from Greyback's scratch had reopened, starting from directly above his armpit, dragging diagonally across his back, stopping short before the middle of it. What was unusual was that there was no blood. The wounds were deep, revealing his flesh – muscles and vessels, but the wound was not bleeding. Covered all around his injury were boils; lots of boils. Draco's lips twisted in disgust as he lightly touched one of them, hissing as pain shot through the whole of his arm and back. He couldn't believe he went through all that crap with Hermione with this going on on his back.

Fear overwhelmed him as he stared at his shoulder with horror.

What is happening to me?

It couldn't be the curse, right? If it was, why did it only appear now, after three years? Why did it take the shape of Greyback's scratch? Does the curse work with Greyback's scratch? Was he going to turn into a werewolf? Why did it look so bloody disgusting? How about the headaches and chest pains? What were they? Was his death drawing near?

He had so many questions, and he wished that Hermione could answer them for him, or even be here for him, with him, but it would never happen.

He often wondered what Hermione stood for in his life. He used to think she was an annoying presence, being particular fussy about the funds. As the days progressed, she started acting like his mother taking care of him, making sure he ate well and slept well. Her presence in his life has become a norm for him, and he realized he was starting to rely on her a lot of things. She was constantly sitting in his office discussing finances, or frequently in and out of his place working, or just chatting and eating dinner. He had no idea how their working relationship got so complicated. Perhaps it was due to the fact that he found her intriguing during Hogwarts times, how her intelligence always managed to help Potter and Weasley through their 'missions'. He was surprised just like anybody else to find out she went to Australia to study, and knowing that millions of Wizarding companies would want to use her to earn money, he stepped in and snatched her away before anybody else could. It was the only perk of being acquainted with Harry Potter.

Knowing her, Draco knew that Hermione would hate him if she found out what he did to her, but he found that he couldn't contain the guilt he felt every time he obliviated the woman. So he included them in his letter to her, not knowing whether he should be glad that he would already be dead for her to kill again. She would probably revive him, curse him to hell and back, scream and yell at him, and the cycle repeats. But no matter what, he did not want to die.

His heart was pumping quickly, so quickly and so hard that he felt suffocated by it. It was as if death was being played right before his eyes. He could see it drawing nearer. He might collapse anytime and die, or commit suicide so that the pain would not haunt him anymore. It was like sixth year all over again, when he was threatened his and his parents' life, when Dumbledore's death was in his hands, when the flash of the Avada Kedavra curse blinded him on the astronomy tower. He was not brave, no matter what Hermione thought and how many times she told him he was a good and brave man when ventured to the topic of his parents and his life. He was a murderer, for he had killed people while under Deatheater training. While being an Auror, there were times when he had failed to save people. He was a useless man. Those who died innocently screamed in his sleep, their cries echoing in his head, and he often dreamt of them, lying limp with their bodies mangled from torture. His bathroom felt cold, just like his manor when Voldemort resided there.

He thought perhaps he was in denial, always letting Blaise worry about his condition and trying whatever potion was handed to him. He never went to the roof-lab unless forced or absolutely necessary, for example to try a new potion or cure that Blaise came up with. He would sit on the bed in the roof-lab room, just in case the potion failed and there were negative reactions. At least he had something to fall onto, instead of the cold hard marble floor.

Draco never really talked to anyone about what he thought about his imminent death, neither did he really think about it except the day he found out. He refused to. Perhaps he did not want to accept it, or perhaps Hermione's existence in his life made him not want to care bout it. He didn't want to let go of her. But another part told him that she was the one that reminded him most about his death, because every time she made his heart soar, he would be brought back to reality by his impending death. Life sucked.

Draco let out a shuddering breath and pulled out his wand, casting several healing spells to cure the boils and seal his scratches. He couldn't believe how easily they were healed, but brushed away the nagging feeling within him that there was more to it. He transfigured a towel into a roll of bandage, wrapping it around the area of injury just in case they opened up again. He had a feeling that whatever was happening would not turn out well, especially the trip to France. Considering the state he was in now, Draco felt that he might not be able to move his arm by the time he went to France, as a dull throb of pain was still present.

I might die in France, haha, that's probably a good thing. Hermione won't find me, and she would go to Blaise, and then it would be easier for him to stop her from coming.

Perhaps he should come up with something to not go to France? But Narcissa would definitely not allow it. She had been planning this trip for weeks. Hermione would find out that he didn't go to France and bug him for a reason. Things were getting harder, for he could tell that she was realizing something wasn't right with him.

Honestly, Draco thought, being the brightest witch of our age, she really can be daft sometimes. Not that I want her to find out that I'm dying.

He felt around his bandage, making sure they were secure and stayed in place. Deciding not to take risks, he threw in the last couple of random items into his luggage, shrunk it, and floo-ed to the manor to have dinner with his Mother just in case he splinched himself. Right then, he would do anything not to give himself away.

Stepping into his old room, Draco put down his luggage and collapsed onto his bed, sighing at how comfortable it felt. Dinner wasn't until an hour later, so he thought he would rest for a while. Oh, and he would have to owl Blaise about the blasted green barley. If Hermione has found out the records were wrong, she would dig into the matter and there was a chance she would question him about them. Blaise must have used the leftover barley for his cure without recording it. What was that git thinking, assuming he could get away with the records? What's worse, did he think he could escape Hermione's brain and eyes?


Hermione stirred as the sleeping potion within her body started to wear off. Sitting up, she rubbed her eyes and massaged her arm, it being numb from lying on it for far too long.

Her head felt fuzzy, as if she had a dream but could not remember what it was about. Staring down at her document, Hermione cursed herself for falling asleep. How in the world did she manage to fall asleep anyway? She didn't feel tired at all. She let out a sigh, annoyed at herself. She had slept about an hour, and now she had to double-check her numbers to make sure she did not make any mistakes. She racked her brain, trying to remember what she was doing before she fell asleep.

Scanning that year's documents and her notebook, her eyes paused at "Green Barley'. That's right, she wanted to find last year's records! She must have wanted to rest a bit before getting up to find them, hence falling asleep. She got up and went to the shelf in her living room, scanning through the many files, and smiled in satisfaction as she pulled out a thick file, moving back to her kitchen table. Her tea had gone cold, but she had a dinner in a few minutes, so she decided not to boil water anymore.

Opening the file, she sighed at the thickness of it and flipped until she found what she was looking for. Hermione frowned. She had been right – the amount of green barley they purchased the year before was the same amount as this year's. She bit her lip, eyes flying between the two files. The records were exactly the same until the last column: Leftover wastages.

In this year's records, there were none. However, in last year's there were 1340g of wastages.

Several Head of Departments, names including Blaise and Pansy, took the records. When the company was opened, rules were made such that Head of Departments, or anyone ordered to collect ingredients from the storeroom had to write down the amount of ingredients they retrieved, date, time, and what it was used for in the records list, which was what Hermione was currently referring to. If there were a shortage of ingredients, the amount bought would also be recorded. At the end of the year on the day of the Winter Solstice Ball, a few assigned Potioneers would go to the storeroom and record down the weight of the leftover ingredients and lock up the storeroom, as no one would be required to return to the office and labs from the Winter Solstice Ball until the second day of the new year, unless special events such as launching new potions took place.

For the case of the Barley, Marcus was the one who recorded the amount of leftovers. She would have to investigate on the matter, and then report to Draco after he returned from France. Besides, it was the holidays and she did not want to ruin his Christmas with his Mother. If she told him about it now, he might forgo the trip and stay at home. She could manage things by herself, so she did not need him to be present.

Looking back down at her files, Hermione tagged the pages that she wanted to refer to when she returned from dinner. Her mind clouded, and Hermione shook her head to clear it. She was still confused as to why she suddenly fell asleep, and also why she felt as if she had forgotten something. It was probably a dream – she usually felt this way when she had a rather realistic dream, like Draco coughing really badly, or Draco fainting from chest pains during work. She would have random flashes of images of her dream, and it would worry her, and for those few days she would watch Draco closely for any signs of him feeling sick, but there were always none.

She felt that if those images were really a dream, she should wake up startled or in cold sweat. It was impossible that she would wake up peacefully after dreaming about something bad happening to Draco. What made everything worse was that every time similar things happened, the dream was related to Draco. Blaise was in them once or twice, but most of them only consisted of her and Draco. It did not feel right, but there was always nothing; no clue as to what those flashes of images were, and she had no idea how to find out what they were.

Perhaps it was due to the over usage of her brain during Hogwarts, university, and dealing with everything Draco throws at her, Hermione felt vexed to think much about those things. They were probably just normal dreams. She had talked to Ginny about them once, and Ginny brushed her off, saying that she was going insane.

"Seriously, Hermione, are you fifty? Stop thinking so much! One day you might end up thinking life is pointless and kill yourself!"

Hermione had rolled her eyes at Ginny after that, and they had stopped talking about it. However, that did not mean that Hermione stopped thinking bout it. Looking back down at her documents, she did not want to consider the possibility of someone misusing company funds.

Whoever was in charge of ordering the barley must have bought less barley, and then kept the extra money for themselves. If that was the case, there would be similar things happening to other ingredients, as a few kilograms of Barley did not cost much galleons. Or she could simply believe that it was a flaw in the records. Hermione could not take risks, so she would have to check the records to make sure they were right.

She sighed again, closed the files and went to her room to get ready.


"Trinky, where is Draco?"

"Master is in his room asleep, Mistress. Is Mistress wanting Trinky to wake up Master Draco?"

"No, let him sleep, he needs his energy for later."

Narcissa smirked as she continued brushing her hair. She had given Draco a day or two of peace, and he would not be considered her son if he let his guard down for a second. She was not going to let him off the day before they left for Paris. She had planned tonight's dinner for days, and he was not going to get away with it.


"Trinky is told to bring Master Draco to the dining room, sir, dinner is ready."

A high-pitched voice interrupted a game of annoying Hermione Granger. Draco frowned, rubbing his eyes with the back of arm.

Oh, that was a dream. Where am I? The manor. Merlin I miss this bed.

Draco sighed and reluctantly pushed himself up, reaching up to flatten his hair, feeling a tad bit grumpy for being woken up in the middle of an interesting dream.

"Thank you, Trinky." He mumbled, Hermione's courtesy to elves rubbing off on him. Draco let out a grunt as a sharp pain shot through his shoulder and back. It felt as if he had pins and needles in that area, and moving his shoulder hurt. He could not take his potion, as his eyes would turn red for twenty minutes, so he had to settle for a pain-reducing spell.

He let out a shudder as he felt the cold tingle of the pain relieving spell, and went out towards the dining hall. As he approached the hall, his footsteps slowed as he heard laughter echoing from inside. His mother must have taken down the soundproofing spell. And she did not tell him about her inviting any guests to that night's dinner, and it was unusual for her to do something spontaneous without telling him or discussing with him. His heart skipped a beat as he realized the possibility of the person being Astoria Greengrass. That woman was a bloody nightmare!

Gathering the little Slytherin courage he had, Draco pushed the door opened and stepped into the hall, mentally scoffing at himself for being an idiot. There, seated at the dining table chatting merrily with his mother was Hermione, wearing a lavender coloured sweater-dress with stockings and boots, looking as beautiful as ever. Acknowledging his entrance, Hermione smiled at him, while Narcissa gave him an accusing glare.

"Mother, you invited Granger for dinner?" He asked her.

"Son, you arrived at the manor and didn't come greet me?" She retorted.

"Mother, I doubt that made you invite Hermione to dinner and shrink the dining table."

"I do what I like to do, son. Life is full of surprises." Narcissa said, eyes gleaming with malice.

Draco rolled his eyes and Hermione chuckled. It had surprised her when she entered the dining hall to see the dining table greatly shrunk. The flowers in the middle of the table were removed, and she could kick Draco if she extended her leg a bit more. Though it was uncomfortable to be so near to each other, the new setting gave her a sort of homey feeling.

Trinky appeared, whispered something into Narcissa's ear and apparated away. Both Draco and Hermione watched her closely as the corner of her lips slowly rose to a smile, and they shared a look, sensing trouble.

Not long after, footsteps could be heard coming down the hallway.

"Is someone else joining us, Narcissa?" Hermione asked, knowing Draco would be too stubborn to do so.

"Oh, yes." Narcissa happily replied. "Just a few more."

The door opened, and Draco groaned. Hermione looked up, and gasped in surprise.

"Harry!" She exclaimed, running towards him and jumping into his arms. Even thought they see each other weekly at the Weasley's reunion dinner on Sundays, it was always a pleasure to see her best friend of 13 years.

"Hello 'Mione!" Harry greeted, walking into the room with Hermione clinging onto his arm. "It's good to see you again, Mrs. Malfoy, Malfoy."

Narcissa gestured towards the end of the table. "Greetings, Mr. Potter, do take a seat."

"Granger, are you under a permanent sticking charm? Get over here."

Hermione was surprised by his angry tone. He knew the relationship between her and Harry was simpler than the relationship they had, why was he being so sensitive about it? Or was it because Narcissa invited Harry without telling him?

Harry winked at her and let go of her arm, moving behind to pull out the chair for her. Hermione smiled grinned gratefully, but her ears caught a distant sound just as she was about to sit and she froze.

Draco started at her action and stared at her, then suddenly shot up from his seat.

"MOTHER!" He cried, pointing towards the door. "That's not-

"Astoria? No it's not. If that bitch dares to let a strand of hair into this house, I will personally haunt her down and kill her. Sit down, Malfoy, or I'll embarrass you with stories of your diapered self."

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, chuckling at Pansy's threat. The two friends were currently engaged in a glaring competition. Hermione sat down, hiding the smile she had on her face with the back of her hand. With Pansy around, Draco became younger, happier, and more childish. They did grow up with each other, being friends since they were just fertilized eggs.

"Why, welcome, Ms. Parkinson, do take a seat with Hermione, dinner will start soon!" Narcissa said, contentment showing on her face.

Pansy smiled, walking to beside Hermione. "Thank you for inviting me, Narcissa." She turned to Draco, her smiling expression immediately changing to a glare. "Chair."

Draco gave a loud exaggerated snort, turning his head towards the door, ignoring her. Harry, being the kind man he was, stood to help Pansy pull out her chair.

"Don't you dare, Potter. That woman does not need more ego boosting."

"Oh, you're too kind, Harry. I'll do it myself."

The two of them spoke at the same time, and then scoffed at each other.

Pansy stuck her nose into the air and pulled out the chair by herself, sitting down.

"You know, Hermione," she started. "When Draco was five, he used to worship me and follow me around. He called me-

"Pansy." Draco warned.

-flower. He refused to go anywhere without me, and only played games if I played. He would go around telling everyone-

"PANSY." Draco warned again, this time getting more embarrassed and louder.

-that he loved me and will marry me when we grow up. Say, Draco, are you still in love with me, that's why you've been single for years?"

Draco sighed and rolled his eyes. "You're being ridiculous, Pansy."

Pansy threw her head back and laughed. "Please, Draco, we all know that 'ridiculous' will be an understatement for anyone as long as Astoria Greengrass is alive."

Everyone laughed, agreeing with her, Narcissa only smiling but agreeing whole-heartedly in her mind.

"What about me?"

The laughter stopped, Draco swore, and Pansy screamed bloody murder.


A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed my previous chapter, and thank you to everyone who went back to chapter 4! I shall not comment on whether anyone guessed right! :) I didn't get my 20 reviews though, only 13! ): But it's alright, I will continue working hard on this story, please don't give up on me!

I just started Year 5 two days ago, and it's been BORING. ): and tedious.

Forgive me, updates will be slower from now onwards!

I SHALL STILL DEMAND REVIEWS!

REVIEW!

REVIEW!

REVIEW!

REVIEW!

REVIEW!

REVIEW!

Have a good day!

-Jenn xoxo