Alternate Ending

A/N: I took the beginning of the last chapter to start the alternate ending. So don't think I posted the same chapter twice.

Draco liked the outfit, especially the red bow on the back. He got a big kick out of that. We spent most of the night in the kitchen and living room; it was a fun night. A couple of times this month, I've surprised Draco in being in the lingerie when he got home; he sent Drea a thank you card two days ago.

We had our wedding last night, and it was wonderful. I thought it was going to be a small wedding, but my mother invited five hundred or so people, and they all showed up. Draco nearly shit a brick when he saw the size of my family. He whispered to me during our first dance, "How can you have so many first and second cousins?"

Not all of them are my cousins, but I'm related to about three hundred of the four hundred people on my side. The last one hundred were Draco's few close relatives, family friends, and distant relatives. I giggled and held him closer to me, "How can you have so few?"

He just rolled his eyes at me.

Our wedding was amazing. Everyone was happy for us. People were dancing all over the place, and a lot of my relatives got to see each other again after many years of not seeing each other. My parents drank much more than they ever should and acted like teenagers dancing for the first time. They laughed and waltzed all over the reception hall. My sister brought a date – she never told me about any love interests, but I didn't mind. It was a boy from Ravenclaw a year younger than Gaston; I think his name is James, maybe Jordan. I can't quite remember. But I do remember that he's a tan fellow and really rather cute. I think Drea said that he's half Sicilian, half something else, but I can't remember that either. I don't see where he got such a not Sicilian name, but hey, whatever floats his parents boat.

Draco and I didn't get to go home until four in the morning. Almost everyone stayed until about three in the morning, and then Draco and I magically cleaned up. It didn't take long, but my parents kept trashing the place, so Lucius apparated them home. Draco and I did a final magical clean up and then apparated to our home. I slowly peeled out my dress and carefully placed it under the protective plastic covering. I then put it in a far corner of my closet where I knew it would be safe. Draco did the same thing with his tuxedo. We showered together, but honestly not for sexual purposes. We were both so exhausted from our wedding that we just wanted to shower and go to bed. The second we were situated in our bed was the same second we passed out. We ended up sleeping until two the next morning, so we took a small sleeping pill so we could wake up again at eight and not have an odd sleeping schedule.

We spent the majority of the week putting to use and putting away the gifts we received from our wedding. After all the gifts, our once empty house looked like a pretty magazine home. Draco didn't really care where our gifts went, so I made him move them around and I just told him what to do. He wasn't too pleased with it, but I let him completely relax afterwards. I made us a large lunch and let him listen to wizard radio while I prepared and cooked everything. He sat down next to me at the table with a goofy smile and ate his meal very slowly. He didn't help me with the dishes or putting away afterwards, but I didn't mind. Most of it was done by magic, anyway. We ended up cuddling on the couch; I read Catcher in the Rye – an old favorite of mine – and he listened to the radio.

I love all the symbolism in Catcher in the Rye. I love that it's a circular narrative, a hero's journey. I love how Holden is an anti-hero, and I love the less obvious symbolism. For instance, towards the beginning of the book, when Holden explains how he broke his hand, how he says how he can't make a tight fist anymore. Then he balls up a snowball but he can't quite grab it. If you read it literally, he just can't make a great snowball, but if you read it figuratively, he can't quite grasp purity. The death of his brother has made him suffer in ways he cannot express, and his hand shows that. The white of the snowball is innocence and purity, and the fact that he can't make a "tight enough fist" to create the "ball" is just spectacular.

I suppose the most obvious of all the symbolism is the frozen pond and the ducks. The whole book is set in a winter state, a very cold winter since it's in New York, a place that gets extremely cold. The winter state is his mentality: cold and unmoving. The pond is Holden; the pond is frozen in time, Holden is frozen in time; he can't move on from Allie. The ducks that have disappeared are Holden's comforts; he doesn't know where they've gone, all he knows is that his happiness is missing. Plus, the ducks migrated somewhere warmer, and Holden wants to go somewhere "warmer".

I love that after I read the ending of the book, I have to read some of the beginning of the book again so I can understand the element I missed, the element the book is based on. It's a great journey, Holden's lost weekend, that is. It's a fantastic "hero's journey", and he portrays a sophisticated anti-hero. His diction isn't sophisticated, but his character is well thought out. I feel bad for Holden, though. No one who could understand him truly listens to him. Everyone lets him suffer; his parents are too involved in their own suffering and don't pay attention to his. His brother, D.B., just left to the other side of the country, Hollywood, no doubt to reinvent himself. If he were such a terrific writer, he wouldn't have to go to Hollywood. I'm convinced that he went there to live a new life, a life where the pain of his brother's death wouldn't have to be real. Phoebe seems to be the only one who organizes her pain and moves past her troubles.

Anyway, I finished the book within a couple of hours, and I smiled at a sleeping Draco. He wasn't even tired, but he was stationary and relaxed, so he fell asleep. I cuddled into his chest; Draco snores. He denies snoring, but he does snore. I like the sound, though. I usually hate the sound of a snore; the only snores I like are my father's and Draco's. I like my father's because I've always heard it. It's comforting; it makes me feel safe and it lets me know I'm close to my parents. I like Draco's snore because it makes me feel loved and safe. I can't explain why, but that's the effect it has on me.

Draco wrapped his arms around me the twenty seconds of slight consciousness he experienced; I fell asleep to the sound of his heartbeat.

Draco isn't going back to Hogwarts, but I am. My fleeing has been cleared up, and I am welcomed back. I'm sure the Gryffindors will hate me, unless Neville did as I asked and told how I really am. I'm extremely nervous about going back, but I'm going anyway. Draco is staying and continuing being a Death Eater. He doesn't want to, but he can't go back, and he can't just stop being a Death Eater. Once you're a Death Eater, you're one until you die. Draco and I decided to visit my parents since I only have two weeks left before I go back to Hogwarts. We've spent most of the summer together, as a happily married, young couple. I've only seen Voldemort twice this summer, and he barely even acknowledged me, so I'm feeling pretty good about going to the house again.

Draco taught me how to apparate this summer, but I still prefer when he apparates us. He apparated us into the dinning room; my parents were there, but Drea wasn't. My parents looked sickly pale, which is saying something, especially since they're not light skinned folks. I gulped and quietly asked, "Where's Drea?"

My father gulped, drew in a deep breath, and slowly snapped back into reality. He hoarsely replied, "In the living room."

I blinked my eyes tightly and quickly, "The one on the first floor?"

Draco ran his hands threw his hair and leaned against the wall behind us.

My dad's voice was still hoarse and quiet, "Yes."

I didn't have to ask any more questions. I didn't need any more hints, and quite frankly, I didn't want to hear more. I can't stand the thoughts, the memories of the horrors I've suffered, the same horrors that could be happening right now. But I'll be damned if I turn a blind eye to it! I'll be damned if I just let it happen! These people just let it happen to me! I suppose they couldn't really do anything to help me, to make it stop, but I don't give a fuck! Fuck them! Fuck this! We're a family! Aren't we supposed to do irrational, possibly dangerous things for each other when one of us is in need? What else is a family for? Who else would risk their life for yours? That shouldn't even be a question of family values; families are labeled families for a reason! I don't give a damn if you're the biggest coward to ever walk the Earth, you are obligated to love and be there for every member of your family! You don't have to like the member, but you do have to love them.

I quickly drew my wand out of my side pants pocket, gripped it tightly in my right hand, and then said threw clenched jaws, "This ends today."

My father shot up, "Neema! There's nothing we can—"

I spun around to face him, "Oh yes there is!"

"Neema—"

"Don't give me that shit!" I shouted, "He did this to me, and I can live with that, but not to anyone else. Not to another one of us! He's doing it to torture us! And you should be ashamed that you're letting it happen!"

My mom shot up and cried out, "What are we supposed to do?"

"I don't know!" I pulled on my hair, "But not just sit around like a bunch of cowards! This is Drea! It's terrible enough it happened to me, but now Drea? Who next? Gaston? Or how about you, mom?"

My father glared at me, "You watch your mou—"

"Are you serious?" I looked at him and laughed, "I've been mentally and physically raped repeatedly, and now Drea is. But when we get on the subject of mom I can't go there?"

They were quiet.

I sighed, "You two should be ashamed of yourselves." I rolled my eyes and shook my head from left to right to show my dismay, "A seventeen year old girl, who has suffered beyond words, is going to be the one to solve this?"

They were all quiet.

I stayed quiet for a very tense minute, "May God have mercy on your souls. Lord knows you'll need it when he asks you about this."

As I turned to leave the room, Draco said, "I love you, my Gryffindor girl."

I smiled and replied, "I love you, too." He remained quiet while I left the room. I quickly, but honestly nervously, walked to the living room. I gripped my wand tightly and allowed all my pent up hate flow through my veins and boil my blood. My heart moved from my chest, up my neck, and into my eardrums. My breathing switched back and forth from being nonexistent to being to fast to get any real air into my body. A thin layer of sweat covered my body as I walked into the room. Voldemort stood only in his silk boxers; his back was to me and he faced my naked, scared, shivering, and crying sister. The same group of Death Eaters, minus Draco, was in the circle around them. A sadistic, deep, growl like laugh came from Voldemort's chest as he said, "Are you ready for the show, boys?"

I leaned against the wall and tightened my hold on my wand. "I am."

Voldemort slowly looked at me over his shoulder. A small smile crept onto his face while a strange, but not new, glint of evil shimmered in his eyes. "It's so nice of you to join us, Neemie."

I looked at Drea and wanted to puke. I wanted to drop to my hands and knees and puke up more than my meals, but my very intestines. Her pale body was covered in goose bumps. Tears streaked and stained her face and neck. Her clothes were damaged and thrown to the side. Did I look like this? Did I look this helpless? This distressed? And no one helped me? No one stood up and said, "This isn't right"? No one could do that? Drea tried to help me. She tried to make me feel like I wasn't there. And now it's my turn. "Put your clothes back on."

"Me?" He pretended to look confused and put his right fingertips over his heart.

I looked at Drea, "Put your clothes back on, Drea. And get the fuck out of here."

Voldemort smirked, "Leave and I'll kill Neema."

Drea started to violently sob again. She collapsed onto the floor and cried against her knees; I shuddered. It was easier to look at Voldemort, so I did. I glared at him, "You are a filthy coward, and you should be ashamed of yourself."

The Death Eaters stiffened and Voldemort laughed. "Why are you doing this, Neemers? No one did this for you."

"Don't you dare start a mind game now."

He just laughed.

"I'm doing this partly because I feel bad for you."

He looked genuinely curious.

"Because no one would do this for you."

He rushed out, "What are you talking about."

"No one loved you. No one ever cared about you. You should see real love once in your life."

Voldemort scoffed and turned around to face me. "Why's your wand out?"

"Take a wild guess." I'll admit it, I'm feelin' pretty ballsy. I've only got one thing going for me, and that's Draco. Everything else in my life pretty much sucks right now. And I've wanted to kill him for a very long time. Then I smirked, "I told you if you touched my child or my siblings I'd kill you. I told you I'd kill you every damn time you came back, regardless how many horcruxes you have."

He was angry, but he still looked amused. He raised his left hand; his wand flew into it and then he asked, "Shall we duel?"

I laughed and apparated behind him; he didn't know that I learned how to apparate, so he was very surprised by my apparating. I placed him under a body-binding curse and pushed him over. He was frozen in place, but his mouth was still open, so he could still shout at me. I grabbed his wand and broke it in half. Voldemort laughed and shouted some spells, but I ducked them. I rolled him over, straddled him, and then asked, "Did you miss me, Volders?"

Drea sobbed loudly, but only once. She shuffled a few feet away and struggled to put her clothes back on. I told her to leave; she didn't need to be told twice, she probably didn't need to be told once. Drea rushed out and probably rushed into the kitchen to see our parents. I looked back down at Voldemort; he laughed, "You feel powerful, Neema? You like riding me?"

I laughed and punched him in the face. He groaned from the pain, but I laughed. I shoved my wand into my bun and continuously punched him. Several tears escaped from his eyes while I punched him in the face. I laughed especially loud when I broke his nose. I pretended to be sorry and healed it. Then I broke it again. And again. And again. I've never felt so much hate in my life, not even the first few times he rapped me. All of my pent up emotions came rushing out. My hair felt like fire, my skin felt like sand paper, my blood was flowing backwards, forwards, and diagonally. My insides swished around and became pure liquids. I breathed in insanity and I breathed out flames. But my God, I've never felt so accomplished and pleased with myself in my life.

I stood up, keeping his nose broken, and started to kick and stomp on him. I laughed at the sound of his breaking bones, "Do you like this, Voldemort? Because you did this to my soul."

He laughed through his poorly refrained sobs, "Your soul, Neemers? Aren't you being a bit melodramatic?"

I laughed and then stomped on his nads. The bastard. I broke all his bones, twice. And I laughed. I laughed as he cried. I laughed as he sobbed. I laughed as he begged me to stop. I healed him all up, and then I did it again. And I laughed, oh I laughed hard. It wasn't a big deal when he ripped me apart. It wasn't a big deal when he slowly killed me inside. It wasn't a big deal for him to destroy my family. It wasn't a big deal for him to beat me! To bruise me! To break me! I screamed, unbinded him, and transfigured a random piece of small furniture into a durable, metal baseball bat. Voldemort stumbled backwards as soon as he stood up. He didn't know what was happening. He's never had this happen before. He's never been vulnerable before, especially not like this.

Voldemort shot up and grabbed the baseball bat. I drew it back and tried to hit him with it, but he stepped back and pulled it out of my grip. He slammed it against my side; I fell to the floor and cried out from the pain, but I jumped away before he could slam it against me again. I grabbed my wand out of my bun and pointed it at him. I sent random spells at him, but he wandlessly deflected them. He grabbed the pieces of his wand and somehow fixed them with the magic in his hands. I stared at him with an open mouth; no wizard should be that powerful, no wizard should be able to just create magic like that. Voldemort shot spells at me and I shot spells back at him. He apparated behind me, wrapped his right arm around me, and then apparated us to the dinning room. Voldemort pushed me into a sobbing Drea,

"Pick someone."

"What?" I turned and looked at him. My legs and hands were shaking.

He growled, "I'll either kill everyone of these people, or just one. So pick someone."

I stuttered with confusion and shock, "Why?"

His face contoured with hate and megalomania, "I'll pick them for you if you can't chose."

"I chose you."

Voldemort laughed and then crucioed me; he laughed and kept the curse on me for a good minute. He lifted the curse, smirked at my panting, and then grabbed Drea by the hair, "How funny would it be if Drea died because of you? She could have just gotten laid."

"No!" I jumped up from the floor and pushed her away from him and into the waiting arms of my father."

Voldemort smirked, "Then it'll be Draco."

"No!"

Draco's eyes widened to the size of his head, "My—My lord."

Voldemort grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. "Who'll it be, Neema? Your sister or your husband? Either is fine with me."

"Just kill me." I begged him and took a step closer to him, "Please, please."

Voldemort smirked and pointed his wand at Draco's throat, "How shall he die, slow or slow?"

"Don't kill him slowly!"

"So we're killing Draco? Okay."

"No!" I cried out. I wrapped my arms around Draco and sobbed into his chest, "Don't kill him, please. Do whatever you want, but don't kill him."

Draco wrapped his arms around me, "It's fine, don't have Drea die."

"No!" I sobbed, "No! I just got you! I can't lose you now! Or like this!"

Draco violently sobbed with me while Voldemort growled with delight. "No," I begged, "Please, this has nothing to do with these people. This is between you and me."

Voldemort sat down in an empty chair and watched with delight. He watched as I cried and begged for a long time before saying, "I can kill him slowly or you can kill him quickly. The choice is yours."

Draco pulled away from me, grabbed my face, and then passionately kissed me. When he broke away from me he looked into my tear and terror filled eyes, "I don't want to die because I don't want to leave you. But you have to do it. And I'm okay with that. Just do it."

I sobbed into his chest.

Draco held me tightly and lovingly, "Just do it, Neema. I love you, and we'll be together in Heaven. I'll wait for you even if I have to wait forever."

I cried harder. "I—I—I love you."

Draco kissed me again, ignoring the taste of our tears. "I love you, too. I'll always love you. And if we're reincarnated, I'll love you in those lives, too."

I cried and kissed him one more time, "I love you, Draco. And I'll always love you. This life, in the afterlife, in all of our 'next lives', I'll love you."

Draco smiled with love and fear. He gripped my right hand and pointed my wand at his heart, "I forgive you. This isn't your fault, it isn't really your doing, either."

My hands started to shake again.

"Don't feel guilty. Just do this, you can. And we'll be together again soon."

I gulped.

Voldemort sighed loudly and threatened to set Draco on fire from the inside.

I kissed Draco one more time before mumbling, "Avada Kedavra."

Draco's body tensed against mine. I pulled away from his motionless lips and watched with horror as his body fell to the floor. His eyes were dull, the little bit of pink in his face was nonexistent, and his chest wasn't rising and falling. I collapsed next to him and sobbed into his chest; it was becoming colder with every minute. I rolled over and puked; I think I got some on me, but I didn't care. I could only see white, I couldn't hear, and I couldn't physically feel anything. My soul mate is dead, and I murdered him. In an attempt to save my sister I killed my husband. I should have just let everything happen. I should have been a coward like my parents; I should have just waited it out. Now I'm alone. My relationship with my parents hasn't been the same since I was raped, and now we'll never be close again. Drea is going to take a long time to move on from this, and my soul mate is gone. His body is cold and lifeless and he's not in it anymore. And it's all my fault.

Voldemort laughed and stood up. He pulled me up by the hair and barely dodged my new wave of barf. He roughly slid my wedding ring off of my hand and pushed me into the seat he was just in. He grinned with an evil I didn't know could exist, "You're mine, forever." He pointed his wand at me and said a spell I've never heard before. My body started to jerk around and my bones felt like they were degenerating. I screamed from the overwhelming pain; my organs ripped from their places and exchanged areas with other organs. I was skinned and tossed into salt while my brain exploded. I watched with confusion and horror as a blinding white light was dragged out of my chest. Voldemort tossed my wedding ring into the air and then shot the white light into it. My screams of pain turned into gasps and labored breath. Voldemort kneeled down and slid my ring back on. He silently preformed a spell on the ring; the skin it touched burned, but I didn't care. Voldemort smirked and looked into my eyes, "This, Neema, is a horcrux. Now only I can take it off of you, and only I can destroy it. And I can only destroy it if I'm sober; the Imperious Curse will not work for taking it off and or destroying."

I stared into his midnight blue eyes, "I hate you, and I hope Harry finds and destroys all your horcruxes."

Voldemort laughed and then punched me. He didn't slap me like he used to, he actually punched me into the face. I cried out from the pain; he laughed, "You're mine forever, and you killed Draco to help me." Voldemort smirked, "Your father finally created the elixir of life this morning. He's been working on it since before you were born, and I drank it today. I'm immortal, with or without the horcruxes. I will look like this forever, and not even the most powerful killing curse will do any harm to me." Voldemort walked over to Draco, slid his wedding ring off, and then wore it on his left ring finger. He smiled down at it and then me, "The boy had good taste. This ring will do just fine. Your wedding ring is now from me."

I started to sob again, and I dry heaved. I couldn't see, I couldn't hear, I couldn't feel anything but hate and heartache. I'm going to live forever. I'm going to be with Voldemort forever. I'll never see Draco again. I should have killed myself instead of crying into his dead chest.

A/N: Please review! I'm going to write a sequel for this. I'm going to call it "God Called in Sick Today" so keep an eye out for it.

A/N: Cass: I find breaking things with baseball bats is much more satisfying than just breaking things.

A/N: Scara1: ta ta for now. I know that one. =|