A/N: Muchos thanks to the following reviewers: Jamiegirl123 and Ezriella.

Just to clear up something 'he' is Tom Riddle/Voldy~

Also, because this took so long for me to get out (stupid writers block/perfectionist tendencies,) I made this chapter extra long~ Hope you enjoy!

Solitude..

Chapter 10

Warning: this chapter contains violence. Read at your own discretion. (If you wish to read over the violence please don't read the italicized portion towards the end of this chapter.)

We remained as we were for a good half hour, silence mingled with soft breaths. The curvature of his outstretched body provided a foreign warmth, which contrasted the chill of the floor below. Neither Malfoy nor I had actually set eyes on the other; it seemed as though the ceiling had become thoroughly gripping.

'What had I just done?' I wondered, curiosity dominating the urge to chide. His titillating fingers had fixated on my waist, his body weighted me against the wall, his chest constricting my own. Breathing had seemed an afterthought as our lips mingled interspersed with light nips.

"Truly special," Draco voiced confounded.

'Special…,' I thought to myself recognizing the words 'he' had reserved specially for me. Draco's voice was void of the chill that backed 'his' words, however his phrasing was identical.

"'He told you?" I moused out.

"He did," he stated forthright clearing away any evidence of deniability.

'How much does Malfoy know?' I wondered, curious whether I should prod Malfoy or be satisfied that my name still graced 'his' lips. To be adorned with an emphatic fondness in such a simple endearment had prompted my own piety for 'him.' Whether it was the depth at which 'he' would speak the endearment or the sensation it arose within myself, it put me under an indestructible spell.

Draco moved so that his gaze was now fixated on my clouded-over eyes. I could feel his orbs burrowing, causing my body to inadvertently attempt to shift away. Before I had even shifted a mere inch his fingers latched onto my wrists pulling me forward forcing my head to rest on his chest. "Don't."

I could only assume he meant 'don't move.' 'Why?' I pondered slightly bitterly. I had for far too long been subject to the territorial nature of man, starting off from my own brothers until I became 'his;' first they seek to claim, then conquer, and finally entrap.

'But he can't claim you,' I remarked knowing full well that I was eternally claimed, 'and he knows it.'

"If 'he' knew," I jeered bringing a hand to rest on his side as I trailed my fingers along his torso.

"I would be missing certain imperative appendages." Malfoy's tone was slightly playful but laced with despondence.

"Yet you risk it," I stated evenly as curiosity ravaged internally.

His finger glided under my chin as he pulled my face to meet his, a smirk evident. "Tantalizing. Intoxicating. Trivial," he remarked somewhat passively. The words hung in the air as his face darkened, "A drug."

'And 'he' mine.' I thought morosely.

"I can understand why, Weaslette: the charge that surges through your veins as you give in, it's intoxicating to see and rather hard to forget."

"I was taught well." It was a simple response that said all that needed to be said. I had been programmed to react when properly required and to move such that I would distract. It was a mixture of survival and instinct that made my actions the way they were.

"Father?" He inquired, knowing full well that his father had never experienced what I had bestowed upon Malfoy this evening.

"You bother asking…"

"Mine alone," he declared increasing his grip on my wrists.

"That's where you're wrong Malfoy," I directed, "I am 'his' alone."

"And yet it is my fingers that rest upon you now, it is I that am marked by you." To reinforce his point he pulled me farther up his chest so that my face loomed above his.

"I suppose it is," I said curling myself further into him reveling in the electricity that seemed to race through the two of us.

"I don't plan to share you!" He remarked his eyes fixated on my own. I could tell that he felt as though he had gained something tonight. I was a prize in his mind.

"I'm not yours to share, Malfoy," I stated clearly.

"Try me," he menaced.

I only smiled. It was an odd reaction, but it fit the situation. A part of me, whether it be sick or not, liked the protection his words afforded me.

That night I had made it back to the Gryffindor tower effortlessly. Once entering the common room, I felt my sense of ease quickly quashed as I set my gaze upon three heads situated in close quarters near the fireplace. Ron sat in the middle chuckling at god knows what.

"Fred sent me a new batch," Ron informed the others as he pulled something from his pockets.

'Fred.' I thought disheartened as I moved past them towards the stairs leading up to the girls' dorm. I followed the spiraling staircase up to the fifth floor before stepping out into the corridor where my room was located. I stood still as footsteps pittered and pattered away below.

"Potter," I droned out exhausted at the mere thought of his presence.

"Yes, Gin," He remarked sadistically.

I turned around to meet his eyes, my disheveled appearance seemingly remaining unnoticed. I simply stared at him, resolving not to give him the benefit of banter.

He stared back at me before reaching out a clutched hand. His arm remained extended, his eyes clearly asking for me to put out my own. I hesitated wondering his reasons for such queer behavior.

"Gin." His voice seemed bored. 'No, not bored,' I thought to myself, 'rather tired, I suppose.'

I reached out a hand as he opened his dropping a small bottle into my hands. I peered down at the bottle trying to discern the contents.

"It's from your brothers."

At his declaration I looked up at him, my eyes growing unnaturally large. 'They couldn't have possibly sent something for me,' I contemplated spitefully.

"It's meant for Ron," he stated as if reading my own thoughts. He had been good at knowing what I was thinking, always coming up with something that would comfort me when I was weak. That was until last summer. "It's an enchantment potion; you can use it to create or mold something to your will."

I grasped the bottle between my fingers as I turned on my heel and moved back towards my own bed. I didn't bother to look back at Harry, I knew he would still be standing there.

Once safely within the confines of my room I opened my top drawer, which held the locket given to me by my mother as well as 'his' trinket, and placed the bottle and 'his' book in it before carefully closing it. Lifting the covers I slid between the sheets, and fell into a deep slumber.

The great hall was crowded, brightened faces littering the nooks and crannies. I scanned the various tables before my eyes landed on flaxen wisps. I internally smirked as I moved amongst the tables towards the far end of the Gryffindor table, glancing every-so-often back at the silver-tongue flaxen-haired Slytherin.

Internally, stress had mounted as I had passed through my classes finally culminating in my current state. This morning, I had awoken to Draco's words claiming me as his own. I knew all too well the anguish that came from releasing oneself to another, and had decided to take it upon myself to tease out his tenacity. 'Did he have it in him to fully claim me?' I pondered impishly as I closed the gap between the Gryffindor table and myself.

I situated myself down, positioning it so that Malfoy had a direct view. My actions rang slightly peculiar, but logically it made sense: if he wanted to 'claim' me he would have to do so publicly. 'See him try.' I chuckled my thoughts turning mischievous.

Looking up I caught his gaze. Taking advantage of the connection, I removed my robes to clearly reveal the silken blue halter dress that I had paired with a black cardigan. I smirked as I watched his eyes flicker, fully enjoying his discomfort.

His hands twitched as he reached towards his plate latching onto a roll, his fingers piercing it. He broke eye contact as he shifted his gaze between those that sat beside him, before settling once more on myself.

My eyes dared him to make a move—anything really—but I knew he wouldn't. 'Cowardice,' I mocked. I trailed my hands along the wood of the table as I slid my leg over the bench and turned towards a group of Ravenclaw boys that were chatting away behind me. Glancing quickly back at Malfoy, I smiled and brought my gaze once more to the Ravenclaw boys.

"Excuse me," I inquired curious to see if they would heed my query.

The tallest of the bunch turned his head around revealing sharp set features molded around two grey sunken orbs. His eyes did exactly what I expected as they raked over my form, clearly ignoring any sense of propriety. "Yes?" He asked as his eyes finally settled on my face.

I knew at this point I had proven my point. I need not engage further, but something within me loved the game too much. I had played it with 'him' a few times at formal gatherings at his request, but I never had the freedom to play with my own set of rules. 'Now I do,' I thought confidently.

"Are any of you well versed in the History of Magic as it pertains to regions surrounding Eastern Europe?" I let my registrar drop so that my voice came out naturally raspy.

I watched, comfortably amused, as the boys glanced at one another sharing equally formidable stares as they non-verbally tried to decide who would answer me. The grey-eyed boy seemed to have triumphed as a smirk spread across his face and he turned once more to me. "I may know a thing or two," he slithered out his voice laced with a disgusting amount of desperation.

'Remember your purpose,' I chided myself as I felt distaste grow at his sad display. I reached out a hand to rest on the lapel of his robe as I shifted forwards. I forced myself to remain focused on his face, suppressing the bile that arose from his putrid scent. "I'll be in the library later," I stated pulling back, "Hopefully I'll see you there."

'I wouldn't,' I remarked to myself knowing that I would likely never see this pathetic creature again.

I stood slowly making sure to adjust my dress so that it ceased to ride up as it had when I was sitting. I looked back at the now visibly seething Slytherin, relishing victory. 'Try me, Malfoy.'

It was a dangerous ploy, but I was confident that he wouldn't be able to do anything. I made my way out of the Great Hall, passing directly behind him covertly dragging my fingers along his back.

I walked along the corridors outside of the Great hall as I clutched my robe, finally letting the fear driven adrenaline take over. 'I hadn't played the game for such a long period of time,' I thought as I slipped into an empty side classroom. "Too long." I let out the deep breath I had been holding in and slumped against the wall.

I crumbled, as the adrenaline seeped out of my body leaving my arms straggled out in front of me. Although I felt the overwhelming sweep of fatigue, the taste of victory was still fresh upon my tongue. I couldn't help but smirk as I remembered his face contorting into a combination of coveting and abhorrence. "Try me," I mustered out before my eyelids closed over effectuating pure darkness.

I didn't sleep, I simply pondered. The subterfuge had commenced and closed in proper fashion, each action carried out flawlessly. I had followed a proper codified formula, one that had been instilled into me during the many nights 'he' had called for me. Routinely manipulating soirees so that I would be paired off with one of his unsuspecting followers, he would commence with the façade.

I was to keep myself within his sight at all times, as was his first rule. Every article of clothing that graced my ivory skin was craftily chosen to mirror what he had so quaintly referred to as his own little Mata Hari. Adorned with deep violet rubies set around white silver, a Victorian necklace accented my bare neck, drawing the schlemiel to his last feast and 'him' in for what he referred to as 'his final triumph.'

I followed proper etiquette ensuring that my fingers only graced outer garments, never to make contact with another's skin. As I ensnared, 'he' would await his entrance. Upon proper entrapment 'he' would sweep in denouncing his followers loyalty and subjecting him to a torturous death played out in front of any and all on-lookers.

Knowing the men he cavorted with, I had never once felt remorse as the men thrashed upon the ground. In all likelihood, they too had dished this treatment out to innocents. They had deserved it.

Prying my eyes open I breathed in deeply, reacting uncomfortably to the harshness of the cold air. I pulled myself up so that I was now sitting, and wrapped my robe around my shoulders as I retreated into the creases' soft embrace.

The door cracked open, and I waited anxiously hoping that I was correct in assuming Malfoy would come. Low and behold he stood before me his face masked in fury, his fists slightly balled. 'He had thought it too easy to claim,' I remarked as I turned my eyes upon him, 'far too easy.'

"Care to explain?" He questioned his mouth creased into a straight line.

I peered at him, manipulating my expression to one of bewilderment. I crept farther into my robes, allowing it to envelop me creating a barrier between him and myself.

"Weaslette?" he prodded, his voice becoming impatient.

'No,' I though to myself rather insolently, 'I don't.' I continued to peer at him, making sure that my face remained as it was. I shuffled a bit within my robes, pulling my wand closer to my hands.

"Failure to lay claim to," I stated smoothly ensuring that my expression didn't falter.

His eyes grazed over me voraciously before transforming into indifference. Without an utterance of acknowledgement, he turned on his heel and left the room once more.

Once more I was left in the company of lady solitude.

The next day I was subjected to murmurs in each of my classes about yesterday's great hall display. Early in the day, it was with relative ease that I was able to ignore them. Yet, now as I sat in potions, I felt slight indignation picking away at my resolve

The crack of books hitting desks signaled the entrance of Professor Snape, who looked livid. Snape billowed towards his desk, not bothering to pick up the waste he knocked onto the floor in his wake.

"You all shall be actively working today to fulfill a unique request," Snape spat out making eye contact with Ariella, who's chair was now rattling with her minor convulsions. "Due to one of your housemates ignorance of signage, we will be producing Veritaserum."

Muffled questions and assertions spread throughout the class, each in wonderment of what could have brought about this request.

A single hand jutted into the air to my right, as Anna asked out of turn, "I thought that Veritaserum takes a full-moon cycle to mature, making our creation of the potion rather futile."

Snape's gaze at poor Anna mirrored the one my mother had worn once after Fred and George had set the yard on fire, killing mother's garden and a few gnomes. He retorted disparagingly, "You would be wrong in your assumption." He continued with his mocking tone as he approached Anna, "do pray tell why you would believe your professor to supply you all with a futile task."

Snape's towering over Anna had clearly shaken her, as she finally dropped her gaze and shifted in her seat. 'Karma,' I thought to myself smugly.

"I…, I…," Anna stuttered out.

"No worries, Perrycoat. Your answer is rather, how might I best frame it…, futile." As Snape finished his statement, he turned back towards his desk and detracted 30 points from Gryffindor and set about dictating how the students were to progress with creating the potion.

Although I had been slightly distracted by Anna and Snape's charade, my mind kept coming back to the professor's reference towards signage. 'There are so few signs in this school,' I mused, 'most only exist to warn students where they are barred from entering.'

With that final thought, it hit me. 'The Restricted Section.' Internally scoffing, I audibly chuckled at the thought that I had actually done something to rouse attention to myself. 'Considering the amount of Law-malfeasant students we have roaming these corridors, I doubt that I was the cause of Snape's fretting.'

Throughout the rest of the class period, students labored over their potions trying to evade Snape's attention. One of Anna's friends had made the mistake of adding dry sprouted root in before it was to be added in, and had caused her cauldron to overflow. Snape had not only mocked her in front of the entire class, but had forced the girl to strip of her robe and use it to clean the floor. From that point on, students remained quiet as they fidgeted away trying to perfect their potions.

I had successfully finished my potion a good ten minutes before anyone else, and now sat back in my chair awaiting the end of class. Snape, likely noticing my inactivity, came over to inspect; his eyes narrowed as he sniffed at the potion before picking up a misshaped ladle. He dropped the liquid from the ladle back into the Cauldron and looked back up at me. "Nice job, Weasley. It seems as though at least one of your family members can boast of minor competence."

I was pretty certain that his intention was to rile, but he seemed oblivious to the fact that I no longer associated with the Weasleys. "I guess one of us, does," I retorted nonchalantly.

/

Finally class was about to end, and I had packed up my books. I grabbed at my bag as I made way towards the door leading out into the dungeons. Right as I was at the door, I was stopped in my tracks at hearing my name.

"Ginerva," the cold voice said behind me.

Turning around slowly I came face-to-face with Snape who laid a hand on my wrist leading me back towards his office quarters. I didn't bother questioning his grip as I quietly navigated towards his office, contemplating what he wished to speak with me about.

Once in his office, he closed the door and motioned for me to take a seat. Choosing the red chair that was situated farthest from his desk, I awkwardly sunk down.

"Ginerva," Snape started off, "It's come to my attention that you've found something."

My eyes grew slightly bulging as his words sunk in. I couldn't help but grow uneasy at the though that he might know about 'his' book, or as I saw it 'my book.' 'Surely he wouldn't have the authority to remove it from my person,' I asserted doubtfully.

"One of my students has come forward to inform me about a certain passageway near the Slytherin Commons, which you were seen in." My pulse calmed down slightly as I could ensure my book's safety; only to speed up when I realized which student he must be referring to. "Why exactly were you in that vicinity?"

"I wasn't aware that the dungeons were off limits to Gryffindors, professor."

His eyes narrowed slightly in recognition of my evasion. "The dungeons are not off limits," he retorted smoothly, "however one has to wonder what kind of trouble you've found yourself in to be snooping around the Slytherin Commons."

'Thick,' I thought to myself realizing he was trying to find some great plan that he would pin on the boy-who-lived. 'So why not lead him on.' "I was looking for something, for Harry."

The gleam that danced across his eyes was a strange sight to be sure, but it also meant I was to be released from this meeting.

"What might that be, Ms. Weasley," he inquired his tone turning polite.

"Harry doesn't trust Malfoy. Something about the Dark Mark, Death Eaters, etc." Knowing what I was saying gave me a sense of authority, especially considering my words were sure to bring about detention for Potter. 'Revenge's a bitch.' I remarked as I externally chuckled.

"Do you find this matter funny, Weasley?" Snape's voice once again returned to its investigative nature.

"No, sir."

"Good. Then I would ask that you cease your exploration of those rooms, and continue to focus on your studies. I was impressed with your concoction today and I expect that you will maintain your current progress." His praise was laced with expectance of failure, marked with his typical tone he used on Gryffindors.

I simply smiled at him and excused myself.

"Oh, and Ms. Weasley," called the professor, "I'd ask that you from now on you report for the seventh years potions class. I shall be seeing you tomorrow at 2pm sharp."

Contemplating his words I chose not to turn around; I simply stared ahead recognizing what his words implied: 'I would be attending class with both the 'boy-who-really-should-stop-living' and Malfoy himself.

"Good day Ms. Weasley," remarked the professor as I made my way out of his office quarters and back into the Potions classroom, all the while smiling at the realization that the Veritaserum was meant for another poor soul.

After leaving the classroom, one word had burned into my mind: 'Malfoy.' He was the only one who knew that I had been in that corridor, and, thus, could have been the only one to tell Snape. 'Why?' I wondered before realizing the ridiculous of my own question. 'It was a power play, plain and simple,' I thought bitterly biting my tongue, 'this was his way of letting me know he still held control over me.'

Although I was somewhat impressed with his brazen attempt at using Snape, I scoffed at the notion that he had actually successfully achieved his goal. Not only was I now in the position to taunt Malfoy on a daily basis in my new potions class, but I also had effectively retaliated against Potter. If anything, Malfoy had helped me declare my independence.

Nonetheless, I still wanted to make it clear to Malfoy that he had in fact not succeeded. Thus, I had spent the last half an hour trudging through the dungeons searching for the silver tongued Slytherin, each corner turning up nothing but a puff of stale air.

Going down one of the narrower tunnels, I felt my foot catch on a rock as my body came down hard against the dungeons jagged wall. A small amount of blood trickled out of a gash running near my hairline as a haze fell over my vision. My body went into a seemingly comatose state as memories drifted through my brain, threatening to take control.

I fought hard to pull myself up as I pushed through the haze hoping to recognize something, anything. Although I couldn't be certain, the door that lay a few feet from me's coat of pure dirt rang familiar. Pulling myself forward, I shuffled over on my knees trying hard not to let the ache within my head overpower. Mechanics took over, and my hand grasped the doorknob turning once left before roughly turning it back right. Reaching up my left blood splattered hand I tapped twice on the lower keyhole, which allowed me entrance into the room.

I fell into the room, unable to close the door as black and silver assaulted my eyes before I fell once more into a transfixed state.

Screams could be heard bouncing around the hollow walls as I paced back and forth in my cage. I couldn't distinguish the voices, and was having a hard time pinning how far away they were coming from. Yet, the intensity of the piercing shrill cries lead me to believe that the screamer had to be near.

A roar followed one of the shrieks as a red light filled the corridor, and footsteps marked someone's approach. Backing away from the front of the cage, I pressed myself against the wall putting myself in a position to first see whoever came by before they saw me.

I ignored the musty scent that passed over my nose due to my proximity to the dirt-ridden walls, and watched quietly as a black robe came into view. I held my breath in wonderment, recognizing at once the pale skinned man standing before me. He turned his head so that his eyes met mine, a smirk overtaking his features as he reached for the lock. He whipped out his wand and stared at the lock, undoubtedly using an unspoken curse to break the lock.

Nausea set in as I stared frozen held by his gaze. Once he had freed the lock he pulled back the cage before sauntering over to me. Our height difference allowed a shadow to be cast, which blocked the light from illuminating his face. His features stood out just the same: a sharp jaw paired with sunken eyes rimmed with traces of insomnia. Moving to his smirk I made out that his upper lip was thinner then his bottom lip.

"Sad. Pathetic. Weaslette." His sharp words cascaded over me further paralyzing me.

"I see they've finally put you where you belong. Marked you as the true trash that you are."

I looked up at him, fear evident in my eyes as I watched his hand come to stroke the left side of my face. I couldn't asses what his motives were as his thumb brushed my lips, causing a slight squeak to emit between my lips.

"Such beauty wasted on retched blood traitorous bitches," he stated just above a whisper. "Such beauty."

I couldn't help but grimace as his hand cupped my chin pulling me forward so that I was pressed into him. Fear still gripped me keeping my body immobile, but my head was screaming for me to run-to get out of this situation. If I were found like this, 'if 'he' found me I would surely pay a steep price.

Not a moment passed between where my thoughts ended and his hand came to clutch my throat. I could feel my airway restrict as his fingers dug into my neck as he threw me against the wall.

"Such a retched waste," he spat out.

His hand came down to grip my hair as he pulled me up, blood starting to stream over my face. He pulled me up until I once again was eye level as he pushed my back into the wall, not bothering to react to the scream that escaped my mouth as I felt something pierce my shoulder.

"Why you are of interest, I shall never fully understand," he hissed as he brought a hand up to my stomach. His fingers pulled up the fabric of my shirt allowing him to graze his ice-cold fingers across my ashen skin. It was short lived as he brought his snake headed cane back and then plunged it into my stomach forcing my body to coil.

He dropped me to the floor watching me, as I lay there covered in dirt and my own blood. I reached up a hand to my head where I could feel the blood had cemented to my hair causing it to cake itself to my scalp. My vision started to cloud as I felt my conscious slipping. I peered once more at him, only to be met with the heel of his boot as it smashed into my side. The pain set in for a brief moment before I fell into an unconscious state.

Reeling from remembrance, I felt myself scream. The screams came out in spurts as I choked on my words and my eyes clenched tight wishing the pain to dissipate. I reached into my robes scrambling for my wand. I clutched the wooden rod between my fingers as I pointed it at myself whispering a spell.

The door shut with a shrill creak and I flicked my wand forcing my body to slam into the couch that rested in the middle of the room. The force of the spell had caused my head to thrash increasing the throbbing. Crying out I bit down hard on my lip, causing iron to fill my mouth's taste buds.

'Damnit,' I barked at myself internally trying hard to keep still. No matter how hard I tried to keep my body from convulsing it would twitch here and there causing the gashes to open allowing a slow flood of blood to drip down my face.

Gripping my wand once more I muttered a spell that effectively numbed my body, freezing it in place. The only thing that marked my presence in the room was the shrill screams that fluttered out between my lips and bounced around the room.

It felt as if hours had passed as I lay screaming, numb to the reasons behind the screams. Fear constricted my minds pleas to release the spell so that I could work towards healing my wounds. My screams intermingled with the sound of a door closing as I raked my eyes to settle upon what I could make of the door.

The haze that clouded my eyes prevented me from making out the figure that loomed over whipping around a wand. At his movements my screams subsided and I stared blankly at the figure. Following a final twitch of the figures wand I felt the numbing spell break. I waited for the paint to wash over me, waited for the throbbing to start up once more, only to realize that all that remained of my wounds was the caked in blood.

Clarity returned and I could finally make out bits and pieces of the figure as he reached down to take me into his arms. He guided me onto the couch as he propped my head up with one of the feather plush pillows. He noticeably jerked away from me causing my hands to twitch suddenly afraid.

"Silly Weasel," cooed a familiar voice, "you never learn, do you?"

"M..M..alfoy," I stuttered out my mouth turning dry.

"Shh, little Weasel," he whispered bringing a hand to push the hair from my face.

I reached out a hand unwittingly tugging at his arm, motioning for him to break the distance that separated us. His body lay unmoved as his hand came to brush off my attempt. The cold air finally nipped as a sense of forlorn set in.

In an obvious abuse of the situation, Malfoy coyly offered, "if you really want me that badly, Weasel, then I suggest you admit that you are mine alone."

The ache that spread throughout my body broke down my stubbornness, as I gave in; "I.., yours…me," I mustered out.

"Good, little Weasel," he stated as he pushed my body further into the couch before slowly wrapping his arms around me. "All mine," he declared in an annoying victorious voice as he settled into the couch.

Ruminating over my current predicament I felt the wash of pain accompany memories of the last couple of weeks. Pain was quickly overtaken by twisted elation at the remembrance of Draco's welcomed assault when he had ravaged my lips marking me as his very own. The arms that encircled me arose a sense of peculiarity, a sense of true security. I felt protected.

I recognized at once that solitude's grip had weakened. 'Draco had weakened solitudes hold, tearing away at my hidden entropy. Although this was true, a strong part of me knew that it was not as easy said as done to break free from 'him.' I knew that I shouldn't harbor the desperation I did for 'him,' but those months with 'him' and the subsequent times at Hogwarts had solidified 'his' ownership over me: my mind and body were tied to 'him.'

Questions filled my mind with unease as I wondered whether I would ever see 'him' again? If I would ever reach a proper end? A small part of me wondered if I still wanted to go as easily as I had before, a small part that couldn't forget the flaxen-haired ferret that lay besides me.

I simply grunted as I curled into him, ignoring the warnings, which were telling me the danger that existed if 'he' ever was made aware of my actions. Deciding to ignore my thoughts I pulled at his shirt bringing his chest closer allowing me to nuzzle my head into his chest.

End of Chapter 10

So I set up a few things for future chapters here as well as gave you an idea of how Ginerva thinks. Next chapter is going to have a special scene that I am VERY excited to write. Expect the next chapter before FEB (writing is harder now that I've started up at Uni again~)

Would love to hear your feedback, whether positive or negative, so long as it's constructive~ ^_^!