Okay! I'll keep the AN short, you prolly want to get to the resolution of the cliffe. Here ya go, sorry for the long wait.


Hermione lifted one eyebrow calmly. "Is that so?" she asked, an edge of steel in her cool voice. "Airing dirty laundry in public isn't quite your style, Jean." She tilted her head slightly to one side, her face expressionless.

"It wasn't anything too bad," Ron said, laughing nervously. "He was just telling us that the two of you had history." There was the slightest of pauses before the last word.

Jean-Baptiste shrugged, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets. He looked effortlessly cool, very sharp, and extremely French. "I have more class than that, Lily. I was merely recounting our," his eyes narrowed slightly, becoming a slightly deeper shade of blue. "Our acquaintance. Or did you forget we were lovers?"

Ginny's eyes darted to Harry's face, noting the tightness of his jaw and the not-so-casual arm he wrapped around Hermione's waist. Dean, she reminded herself.

"Of course not," Hermione sighed, regret and sadness all wrapped into one gust of air. "Of course not, Jean. But that was in the past. And here is neither the time, nor the place." She said the last part deliberately, making eye contact with the tall Frenchman to drive her point home.

Gwen was watching the conversation with interest, as were Ginny and Ron. Harry, after the initial bristling, had relaxed, glad to have Hermione close and pleased that she allowed him a hand on her waist.

The tall Frenchman nodded quickly, the faintest flush of pink on his cheeks. "You are right as ever, Lily. Forgive my lack of manners." Swiftly, he grinned at Harry, who was taken aback by his sudden friendliness. "Have you ever known her to be wrong?"

"Maybe once every few years," Harry joked. "Did you enjoy the show?" For him, it had been pleasant. Like he had said to Hermione- pretty girls and pretty clothes. The people behind him had been making comments on the clothes and makeup, admiring the clean lines of the clothing and the way the bodies of the models showed them off. Gustavo had a reputation for only hiring healthy models- he was disgusted by the sticks and bones so often shown. He liked them slim, not skeletal.

Jean-Baptiste nodded eagerly. "Yes, yes. A fantastic spin on the classics. Lily, did I tell you that you were beautiful out there?" Hermione blushed and accepted the complement.

The group chatted for a while, before leaving Gwen and Jean-Baptiste to conduct a conversation in their native French. Ginny quizzed Hermione on some of the clothing she had seen on the runway, while Ron pointed out some of the pretty models.

George joined them a few minutes later, a cocky grin belying his success before he informed them he had a date with a nice blonde Hermione new only vaguely. They stayed at the party for another hour, Luna and Neville leaving first and Ginny, Ron, and George following their lead a few moments later.

"So," said Harry, studying the drink in his hand carefully. "What now?" His eyes darted up to Hermione's, taking in the mascara and smoky eye shadow. She didn't look like herself. She looked like Lily.

Hermione twirled a curl around her finger, and shrugged. "It's up to you, Harry. We can go home, or we can stop by the after party."

"Home," Harry decided after a moment. "I'm tired and I'm sure you are too. We can make hot chocolate and curl up on the couch," he suggested.

With a sigh of relief, Hermione grinned. "Sounds perfect. Any chance you want to sweeten the pot?" They rose from the small couch they had been resting on, and started to make their way to the door.

"Hm," Harry said, thinking for a moment. "I'll throw in a foot rub if you add some marshmallows," he wiggled his eyebrows at her. "I am very good a foot rubs," he finished with a wink. "And those shoes look very uncomfortable."

Grimacing in distaste, she discreetly stuck out a foot and examined it. "I agree. Let's say our goodbyes and get out of here."

Kate was chatting with a group of agents of a few of the extra models Gustavo had requested from other agencies. Her blonde hair was carefully styled, and tucked behind her ears, and she appeared very obviously important.

"Lily, darling," she said, drawing out the 'r' in an imitation of Hermione's own accent. "Leaving already?" She sipped from a cherry red concoction in her hand, eyes sliding toward Harry. "Your boy too?"

"I'm afraid so, Kate," Harry said apologetically. "I had a long day at work already and I'm tired. We are going to head home." Hermione's mind went to an image of the two of them, meeting in her home after a long day at work, kissing and going to bed. Waking up in his arms again.

She flushed hot, and gave Kate a quick hug, fleeting sorrowful at the loss of Harry's touch on her lower back. "See you later, Kate," she said, pulling away. "Give Gustavo my best," she called as they walked away. The last stop was a group of the models, some drunk, some not.

"Lily!" one of them hooted. "Are you coming to the after party?" Her blonde curls were mussed and the thin strap of her dress was slipping off.

Hermione shook her head, mentally accessing her own shoulders. "No, I'm going home. I'll see you guys around, alright?" After a quick round of hugs and goodbyes, the two Wizarding folk found themselves outside in the cool air of London. The summer days were fleeting, and it would soon be fall. Hogwarts would start up again, and life would go on.

She sighed, and immediately Harry's jacket was around her shoulders. "Thanks," she said quickly, eyes darting up to his green ones for a moment before darting away again. I feel like a silly teenage girl again, Hermione thought. I'm too old for that.

But when she thought about it for a minute, she shook her head. She wasn't really that old- only twenty-two. She had been a teenager only three years ago. When she was nineteen she was struggling with Post-Traumatic-Stress-Disorder and living with a man she didn't love. She had killed people. She had almost been killed. She had been tortured. She might be barren- her life might have been over before it had even started.

"Do you ever stop to think we are only in our twenties?" Hermione asked after a moment. She looked up at the smoggy London sky and sighed. "I'm barely legal to drink in the United States. I should be in University. Do-"

Harry spoke, strong voice unusually weary. "Yes, Hermione. But we aren't like normal Muggles. Think, half the people who survived the war in our class are already married. The rest are considered play boys or spinsters. The Wizarding world is different. We are different. We cannot be normal, Hermione!" He was getting tired of this subject- that which happened had happened, and nothing more could be done.

"I know that," she snapped back. "But I wish-"

"Wishing will not help," Harry said softly, almost pleading with her. "We have to accept it. Move on. What's done is done, and there is no going back."

They had stopped, this formally dressed couple in the almost empty streets around the hotel. They had been heading toward the alley where they would Apparate, but they had been so distracted with their conversation they had passed it. "But it's so unfair," Hermione whispered. "So god damned unfair."

"That's life, 'Mione," Harry snapped. "You got it bad, I got it bad. So fucking sad for us. I have a job, I've moved on, I'm working to heal. And you-"

"I ran away," said Hermione, eyes tight with held back tears. "I was a coward and I ran away and left you all here-" She cut herself off, and stalked into the alley. "I'll see you tomorrow, Harry," she said in a dead voice.

He heard the crack of her Apparation, and cussed, kicking the side of the wall. "Not this time, Hermione," he muttered to himself under his breath. With a quick check to make sure no one was watching, he turned on his own heel and appeared in Hermione's living room.

He ducked, knowing she would have shot a spell in his direction on instinct. "It's me, Hermione!" he shouted, holding up his hands with his wand visible. "It's just me."

She was not as mad as she should have been, he thought. But he was right on one thing- the wall behind him was smoking faintly. Hermione just stood there as he repaired it, and walked into her kitchen. "Aren't you going to get a blanket?" he called. "You owe me a hot chocolate and curl up on the couch. So I'll do you a favor and make the hot coco and you'll fetch a blanket and a movie, alright, love?"

She left the kitchen, walking over to a small closet and pulling a warm blanket down from the top shelf. She plucked a few DVDs from her small collection and put them on the table. "Alright, Harry. Blanket, and movie."

"And the hot coco is almost done," Harry replied. "Marshmallows?" She could hear him rummaging around the cupboard in the kitchen.

She sat down on the couch, taking off her painfully high shoes. "Yes, please. They're in the pantry, near the back. White and blue bag." Hermione stretched, then padded off toward her room, calling over her shoulder, "I'm going to change, Harry. Can you choose a movie and start it?"

When she remerged, dressed in an over-large shirt and a pair of comfortable cotton shorts, he had slipped a DVD into the rarely used player and was already under the blankets on his side of the couch, sipping hot cocoa. His suit jacket lay discarded over the back of an armchair, and he had unbuttoned his sleeves to roll them up.

She accepted the cup of warm hot chocolate he offered her, setting into the couch. "Which movie?" she asked. The hot coca was good- she took a sip and sighed contentedly.

"Mission Impossible," Harry answered promptly, throwing her a cheeky grin.

She shook her head and sighed, a small smile gracing her face. "You are such a boy, Harry."

"I made the coco, plus I was here while you were changing," Harry pointed out. "Come on. We can watch one itty bitty action movie."

"Fine," Hermione said, pulling on the blanket. "Next time, I pick the movie. Or we'll end up playing Scrabble or something."

Harry took a long draw from his coco cup, coming up with a brown milk mustache. "Fine by me, love. I love Scrabble!"

Hermione shook her head, and started laughing. "You're incorrigible," she said, unable to help her giggles. "Press play, already."


Hermione glanced at her watch, checking the time for what had to be the fourth time that evening. "Harry Potter, if you do not ring my doorbell in the next thirty seconds, I will-"

The doorbell rang, and Hermione sprang up from her seat on the couch, smoothing down her hair. She opened the door, grinning happily when she saw the man who rang the doorbell.

"Hello, love," he said, stepping into her house and enveloping her into a hug. "Merlin it's been a long time since we've seen each other."

She was lost in the scent of his jacket, relishing his warmth before pulling away to close the door. "Harry," she sighed, reaching up the kiss his cheek. "Your trip was alright?" There was a shadow of stubble on his chin, rough against her lips.

"It was cold," Harry said, shrugging off his heavy jacket. "I had to go the Muggle route- we didn't want any Death Eaters to know we were coming. I never realized how bloody cold Germany gets in the winter." There was snow in his hair, the white dots disappearing one by one as they melted.

Hermione shrugged, pulling her cardigan closer around herself. "Tell me about it. This house I'm staying at would cost me half a fortune to heat if I didn't use warming spells." She stepped forward again to hug him, now that he was free of the bulky coat. "Gods, I've missed you Harry."

She saw what he was going to ask before he said it. "Not yet," she said quickly, cutting off his question. "I'm not ready to go back now. It's too-" she turned her head to the side, still in the circle of his arms. "I got a letter from Ron."

"And?" Harry asked, clutching her tighter. If his friend had ruined his chances of getting Hermione back in London, he would kill the redhead.

Hermione leaned into Harry. "He's still furious," she said in a small voice. "And rightly so, I guess. He begged me to come home. I don't think I can deal with him right now." Her mind darted to what had happened a few days before- the shaking, the seizures, the pain… Something was happening and she was becoming terrified to move. One fall, and she had been in pain for hours.

Harry bowed his head, nose just brushing her curly hair. "You look nice," he said, drawing back to look at her. She was wearing a cream turtleneck with a deep burgundy cardigan over it. Slim black pants fit snugly on her hips, and instead of shoes she wore fuzzy red and gold striped socks. Her hair was wild around her head, more untamable than he had seen it in months. Her face, however, was drawn, tired. Faint shadows hung under her eyes, and her hands shook slightly as she took his scarf and hung it up on the coatrack.

"Thanks," she said, rolling her eyes. "You don't look so bad yourself. Did Ginny force you to get a haircut?" Her mind flashed guiltily to the flame-haired woman who lived with Harry. Did she know where Harry was? Of course she did, Hermione told herself. She hadn't mentioned any of Harry's visits in her letters, but those were few and far between.

Harry ducked his head sheepishly, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, actually. Guess she didn't realize that I would have liked having more hair over here. Why can't Death Eaters hide in warm climates? Like the three we caught in France. Those were Death Eaters, with taste."

Hermione led him through the small house to the living room. "So who was it this time?"

"Bolling, Hanover, and Renly. We had hoped to find Davenport as well, but…" he shrugged. "No luck. The other three were attending some meeting of American skinheads who decided that because Hitler was dictator of Germany, all Germans were Nazis. They did some clumsy recruiting efforts, which the German Ministry sniffed out right away. They were offended, and when they saw the names, they called us." Harry stretched quickly, cracking his neck.

Hermione regarded him with solemn eyes. "And Mulciber? Any news about him?" His face had featured heavily in her nightmares- the executioner had a sadistic side. Bellatrix had been especially fond of him- as fond as she could be of someone who worked for a living.

"No," Harry said, shaking his head. "But we're trying." They were quiet for a moment, watching the fireplace. "What's on the agenda for tonight?" Harry asked suddenly, green eyes looking at her inquisitively.

Hermione stood and padded over to the kitchen, followed by Harry. "I cooked," she said proudly. "One of my friends, Gwen, is teaching me. I should you two meet sometime. Anyway, I'm cooking a rabbit. They are excellent when cooked properly."

Leaning against the countertop, Harry gave the oven a suspicious glance. "Did you cook it properly?"

"I think so," Hermione said, throwing her own worried look at the cooking fowl. "If not, I have sandwich stuff. No one can mess up sandwiches."

The next hours were spent catching up on news. Harry and Ginny had adopted a fish, Luna and Neville were on their honeymoon and had yet to emerge, and Ron was dating a nice witch named Candy. Hermione had just finished with a nice assignment in New York, and had come to Germany for a show. However, there were complications with the clothes- and Hermione was to be holed up in Eastern Germany for at least another week.

The duck was fine- Hermione was exuberantly proud and Harry ginned on her behalf, praising every other bite. They joked and laughed as they ate, talking about the people they knew.

"Padma and Parvati are back in India," Hermione informed Harry, taking a sip of water. "I stopped by to say hello when I was there. Padma's engaged- well, no. She's prolly married now, actually."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. "I remember- Lavender had to leave for a week to go to the wedding and Ron was grumpy for days."

"Are they still together?" Hermione asked, surprised. "So that fling in sixth year is back on?" She remembered the blonde girl's searing jealousy and winced. At least she couldn't be accused of messing up their relationship this time around.

Harry glanced at her guiltily. "Was back on. They broke up again- Lavender accused Ron of mooning over you, and they got into a couple nasty rows." Hermione sighed- so much for hoping she would no longer affect Ron's love life.

"That's Ron and Lavender," she said with another sigh. "What about Seamus and Dean? Are they seeing anyone?"

Harry cracked a grin. "Don't get your hopes up, Mione," he said, winking at her. "They're seeing each other."

"I knew that," Hermione said with a roll of her eyes. "I was just wondering if they finally got their act together and stopped the 'best mates who share a two bedroom flat' thing yet. Honestly Harry, did you really not notice at all during fifth year?"

"Uh… no," Harry said, putting down his fork. "You did?" He looked at her, and shook his head. "Of course you did. You also noticed when I was pining after Cho, and Ginny-"

"And Katie, and Angelina," Hermione finished, standing up from the table. "How much time do you have here?" The clock read half past eight, and the sky outside was a deep bruised purple-black.

Harry checked his watch, and shrugged. "We leave the day after tomorrow. I can stay the night if you have an extra bed. Or couch. Either is fine."

"I have a guest bedroom," Hermione said quickly. "I'll get the bed ready for you. Pop in a film, would you?" She sent the dishes to the kitchen with a flick of her wand, then turned down a hallway. Harry watched her go, smiling softly before examining her movie collection.

"These are all in German!" he called out, riffling through the box. "Hermione?" The unfamiliar words were accompanied with unhelpful pictures, and he sighed. "Hermione?"

"I'm here," she said, walking over to look through the box. "You're right- darn. Do you want to watch a movie in German?"

He shrugged. "Or we can play Scrabble. I like Scrabble." But more to the point, he knew she loved Scrabble. His offer was accepted with a wide grin, and another foray into the linin closet for the game board.

They were halfway through the game when Hermione frowned. "You've hardly said anything about Ginny. How is she?"

Harry groaned as she laid down, 'Queenly.' It was Hermione, so of course she got the triple letter score on the 'Q.' "Bugger," he said.

Hermione slapped his hand lightly. "Language, Harry," she said. "I asked, how is Ginny?"

"Fine," Harry said. "I told you we adopted a fish. His name is Arnold." He put down 'Reign,' smirking slightly. "Twenty-two points for me."

She stuck out her tongue, using his 'R' to write out 'Zipper.' "I always get the weird letters," she grumbled, but a small smile stayed on her face. True, she always got the strange letters, but it was also true she always figured out a way to use them.

"Poor you," Harry retorted. "I'm going to lose dreadfully. Happy?" Despite his words, he grinned disarmingly at her.

She smirked, tucking an errant curl behind her ear with a gesture of careless grace. "Perfectly," she replied. "But speaking of Ginny, I have something for her. Would you mind?"

She had expected him to agree, but instead the Auror hesitated. "Could you send it to her?" he asked, eyes darting nervously. "Owl it, I mean. Or since you don't have an owl, mail it to her?"

"No," Hermione said, frowning. "I would rather you gave it to her- I want her to know that I think about her! She'd know it's true coming from you, because I can't tell her myself."

Harry stopped paying all attention to the game. "Or you could tell her yourself, Hermione. Come home." He knew his eyes were begging her and he hated it. But she was his best friend and he needed her.

"Don't change the subject, Harry," she snapped. "Why can't you give my gift to Ginny?"

Harry glared at her. "Because she doesn't know I'm here. No one knows I come and visit you, Hermione!" He was half yelling.

She paused, forehead wrinkling delicately in confusion. "Why? Doesn't Ginny ask where you go when you leave?"

"She thinks they're all business related," Harry said wearily. "I don't like lying to her, but I don't want her to know." He could imagine what Ginny would say, what she would think. The redhead had been sad when Hermione had left, and angry. But she had also been a little bit relieved, confiding to Harry that she had never really believed that nothing was going on between the two friends. Now that Hermione was gone, she no longer needed to worry.

Hermione was frowning in earnest now, standing up and wrapping the cardigan tighter around her shoulders. "And why is that, Harry?" He could see the pain in her eyes.

"For her sake," Harry answered immediately. "Ginny- you know how she is, 'Mione. She gets jealous."

There was a flash of understanding in her eyes. "So you don't tell Ginny you come and see me because you're afraid that she'll think you're cheating on her."

Harry nodded, half afraid Hermione would let a spell loose at him. "Yeah," he said. "She's always thought that you and I had something going on."

Hermione put a hand over her mouth, a small smile breaking through her stony face. "I'm not sure whether to laugh at that or hit you," she said, trying to stop her giggles. "Honestly!"

"Laugh," Harry told her solemnly. "It's better for both your health and mine. And I know we're- what was the word you always used?"

"Platonic," Hermione said, before breaking into a round of fresh giggles. "Gosh. Poor Ginny. She always thought we were dating?"

"Not really dating," Harry hedged, not liking where the conversation was going. "More like… friends. Very close friends." He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, raising one hand to run it through his hair.

Hermione sat down next to him on the couch, brown eyes still glowing with mirth. "You mean friends with benefits, right Harry?" She grinned knowingly as he blushed. "I'm not sixteen anymore, dearest."

"And that's another reason she thinks we're together!" Harry exclaimed. "Since Skeeter. And the whole thing we used to do to joke- calling each other 'love' and 'dearest.' It wasn't great for her, 'Mione."

Her face flashed guilty before going expressionless. "I'll stop, if it bothers you," she said, eyes turned down and away. "Harry."

He was tempted to accept her offer, but sighed and reached out, hugging her to his chest. "Sorry, love," he said, nuzzling her hair. "I know that when I say' I love you,' it means 'you've been with me through hell and high water and saved me from both,' and when you say 'I love you,' it means the same thing."

She sighed happily, relaxing into his embrace. "And Ginny? Does she know?" Inwardly, she hated herself a little for wanting to know. Harry, oh Harry. Her Harry. Her Harry, who loved Ginny.

"In her mind, yes," Harry said. "In her heart, she will always be suspicious. So…"

"I get it," sighed Hermione. "We're not telling Ginny. Neville sent me a letter saying he'd be on the Mediterranean in a few weeks. I'll ask him to give my gift to her. Will you be anywhere near France?"

"No," Harry said regretfully. "I'm back to England after this trip for at least a few weeks."

They lay together in silence for a while, until Hermione spoke again. "Time together is just never quite enough."

"I know," Harry said fondly. "But when it's just you and me, when we're alone, I've never felt more at peace. It feels like a real home."

Hermione hugged him tightly. "Were any of Ginny's suspicions ever correct? Did she have a reason to believe that you and I… All those little hints of love that she saw?"

"Once upon a time, maybe," Harry admitted. "But back then we needed time. We never got it, though. And we both moved on." He had noticed how she had blushed at peeked little glances at him for a time in fourth year. But back then he was socially awkward and the beautiful Cho Chang held his affections. And then Hermione had started going out with Viktor Krum and his chance had come and gone.

Hermione stiffened slightly in shock. "Oh." Another pause, and she asked another question. "Do you think about me, at all? When you're at home in London?"

"Of course, Hermione!" Harry exclaimed, looking down at her, green eyes earnest. "It really isn't home without you. You and Ron and Ginny and Neville and Luna are my family and I hate it when you're gone."

"Do you ever wish we had fallen in love, Harry?" Hermione asked wistfully, tears starting somewhere in the corners of her eyes.

He nodded, regretfully. "All the time. It would have been so much easier…"


It was past three or four in the morning when Harry shuddered awake. He was alone on the couch, a blanket that had obviously been left him by Hermione kicked to the floor. The pillow she had eased behind his head was damp with the sweat of night terrors, and he could feel slight tremors in the large muscles of his legs.

"Ugh," he groaned. He felt gross, he was sure he looked gross, and he could feel a Cruciatus attack coming. His insides were rolling, and his legs could barely support his weight as he stumbled to the bathroom, bracing himself on the sink.

His reflection looked scared out of his mind- nothing like the strong man who had saved the Wizarding world. Suddenly, something inside twisted and he let out a short grunt of pain. He needed to get to a open space- thrashing around Hermione's furniture would not be good.

Somehow he made it back to the living room, collapsing on the couch as a spasm rocked his body. He clenched his jaw; he would not wake up Hermione.

But it was too late. Hermione appeared around the corner of the door, wrapped in that same short red robe from the night he broke it off with Ginny. One look at him, and she knew what was happening.

"When did the tremors start?" she asked, looking at him with quietly compassionate eyes.

He was struggling to breathe at that point. "About… Three or…. Four…. Minutes," he wheezed. "Sleeping-" He groaned, giving into another tremor. Hermione put one cool hand on his forehead, murmuring to him as he shuddered.

"Can you walk?" Hermione asked worriedly. "You should ride it out on my bed- it's big enough I made sure of that-" she helped him up and slowly, oh so slowly, the made their way through her halls to the bedroom.

It was nicely furnished, Harry thought somewhere in the back of his mind. Pretty. Blues and silvers, with dark wood. Then he was thrashing on the hastily vacated bed, holding back his groans when all he wanted was to scream.

At least he wasn't alone. Hermione was sitting cross-legged next to him, having changed quickly into sweat pants and an old t-shirt. She had his head on her lap, stroking his hair and murmuring things to him, just a human presence. Obedient, Harry though he saw her crying, but his vision was blurry without his glasses and even worse from the pain.

The pain- it's source, as far as his researchers had figured out, was the nerve endings damaged during the initial bout of the Cruciatus, combined with a psychological flashback to the event. The Cruciatus Curse was a two-fold spell: one half was physical, twisting and curling and splitting nerve ends and healing them just as rapidly. But the other- it crept in through the nerves, up past the spinal cord and into the brain. It made its way in through the primary and secondary somatosensory cortex and the hypothalamus, superior colliculus, and amygdala. It situated itself into the memory patterns, overrode normal memory patterns, and stayed. Dormant. Waiting.

Until the right- or rather, wrong- stimuli awakened the last vestiges of the curse, and it began anew. The pain was not as intense, was not as all-consuming as the initial curse, but it was similar. And long lasting. Harry's body was racked with pain, but, unlike the curse, it was not just possible to black out and go to a happy place. It was just severe enough to keep him on the edge of lucidness, and so he stayed.

It was almost noon when the shaking finally stopped. The pain was slower to go, lingering malignantly in his muscles and bones. But he sat up, shakily, and leaned against the pillows, Hermione's eyes following him carefully.

"Are you better?" she asked. She looked worn and haggard as well, from lack of sleep or stress, he didn't know. Her hair was pulled back into a messy pony tail, and her eyes seemed old and weary.

He took in an unsteady breath, looking around. "Yeah," he said, exhaling. "Yeah." She sighed in relief, hugging him tightly.

"I'm going to find a way to fix this, Harry," Hermione vowed, head pressed to his chest. "I'm going to find a way."


Alrighty: I want to know the usual: your thoughts, comments, and criticism. I love you all, I really do, but there is too much going on right now. Projects, tests, quizzes, HUGE projects, and Finals. Plus I'm the secretary of my Venture Crew, which means I need to plan campouts and activities. And then I need to worry about a host of other things… You get the picture. Summer is almost here, though! All I'm going is having Doctor Who marathons and volunteering at the Hospital (plus Summer HW) so I'll be able to write more.

I love your reviews- we are over one hundred and going strong! I want to hear your opinions- every time someone reviews, they affect the writing process. If you want to see something in this, tell me! I'll consider it, and if I like it, incorporate it.

See ya next time,

ausland