[A/N: I am in a horrible mood. Prepare for blood. Lots of blood.
Foul language warning: although if you have managed to make it this far without realizing that there is ample cursing in this fanfic, I really don't know what I can do for you at this point.]
53. Arguments
"Hey guys!" Billy said as he slipped across the table from Harry, Ginny, and Ron.
Ginny sent him a disapproving look. "Quiet," she whispered. "Madame Pince will murder you if you keep on talking so loud."
"What?" He ran his hands through his long hair, trying to straighten out the tangles. "I'm practically a professor." Ron snorted. "I have diplomatic immunity. I barely said anything anyway."
"Why don't you go bug someone else?" Ginny hissed. "I'm trying to finish a Potions essay." While Ron still worshipped Billy as some kind of idol, Ginny had long ago gotten over the fact that even though his hair was rather cool, Billy was still as annoying a dolt as the rest of her many brothers.
"No, he doesn't have to leave," Harry pleaded, smiling shyly. Ginny knew he loved having the Weasleys around him. It made her sad to think what a wonderful older brother Harry would be if his parents had lived and had more children.
"Why aren't you bugging Fleur?" Ginny asked.
Billy made a face. "She's visiting her family. They're staying in London over the weekend." He looked down at his hands. Ginny opened her mouth to ask why Billy hadn't gone with her, but Harry kicked her and shook his head. It was scary sometimes how he could sense what she was about to say a second before she said it. She couldn't help it. She was in a particularly vindictive mood today. She had practically decapitated John Ross, their reserve beater, during Quidditch practice this morning. She even scared off Eliza, who said they could get together again once Ginny was feeling less blood-thirsty.
There was a shriek near the entrance of the library. Madame Pince rushed over to intercept whatever was causing the racket, but the source soon burst through and rushed by the librarian as if she wasn't there. It was Hermione, holding a flashing special edition of The Daily Prophet. "Arthur Weasley is out of Azkaban! And he's coming here to Hogwarts!"
Ginny's mouth fell open. Ron let out a whoop and Billy jumped up and started dancing an insane waltz with a flustered Madame Pince. Half of the library had heard her announcement and several groups of students cheered, especially the Gryffindors, where the Weasley family was well known and generally admired. "What happened?" Harry asked. "Is Cornelius Fudge..."
"He's still Minister, but the Ministry voted against Fudge to release Mr. Weasley." Her cheeks glowed with excitement. "Fudge's popularity has been diminishing ever since was declared between Skeeter and Mueller."
"Mueller, that fucking bitch!" Ginny proclaimed. "I hope she-"
Billy clapped a hand over her mouth. Luckily, Madame Pince was too overjoyed at the good news to hear her curses. "Now, Ginny – is that any way to treat a respected reporter?" Ginny kicked at his shins. Jo Mueller had been the top reporter a month ago, publishing anti-Weasley articles that pitted the public against the newly acquired Minister.
"Is there any chance that Mr. Weasley can boot out Fudge and become Minister again?" Harry asked, his face hopeful.
Hermione shrugged. "I don't know. The important thing right now is that the public is turned again against Fudge. Of course, this is bad from another perspective, because it weakens the Ministry considerably. And you have to take the fact that Mr. Weasley just spent a month in Azkaban, right after the death of one of his children. It's got to have been incredibly hard for him."
Everyone around the table sobered. "Can I read that?" Madame Pince asked suddenly.
"Sure," Hermione said, smiling widely. Although they never talked to each other, Hermione and Madame Pince were almost as close as mother and daughter.
"I want to read it, too," Billy said.
"And me!" Ginny exclaimed.
"Why don't you just read it out loud?" Madame Pince suggested. They stared open-mouthed at her. "Quietly, that is," she directed sternly.
Hermione cleared her throat [merely for dramatic effect] and read:
Arthur Weasley, Ministry Official and former acting-Minister, has been released from Azkaban this morning after a vote by the Council of Gooby-Doo-Doo [A/N: yeah, I'm making up stupid names, so bite me] to restore him to his full title before Fudge's impeachment, writes Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet special correspondent. The records of the trial are currently being reviewed by Board members and a decision will be reached some time next week. If the testimony against Fudge is found to be solid, the impeachment may be upheld. If, by means of bribery, Fudge is able to convince Board members that the evidence against him is faulty, he may be able to retain his role of Minister and continue to wreck havoc throughout the Ministry. Arthur Weasley will be retiring to Hogwarts for a short period and, under the care of Albus Dumbledore, will be recovering his health and planning his next political move. Weasley is known for his characteristic level-headedness and enthusiasm for the safety of the Magical peoples of the U.K. (For a further reporting of Fudge's money-mongering, turn to page 3d. For a comprehensive overview of Fudge's participation in subversive Goblin groups, turn to page 6.7. For an article detailing Fudge's stand on allegations by a former intern, "I Did Not Have Magical Relations with that Woman," turn to page ½).
"When's dad going to get here?" Ginny asked.
Hermione didn't know.
"I'll find out," Madame Pince offered suddenly, rushing away. They looked after her in shock. Apparently Pince was fonder of the Weasleys than she had let on. Or maybe, as much of the magical population, was just fed up enough with Fudge to vote for anyone that had the guts to stand against him.
Ginny tapped her foot on the ground impatiently. "Do you think he'll be okay?" she asked.
"He'll be fine," Harry assured her in a gentle voice.
It only made her more annoyed. She hated when he acted so...nice. None of her girlfriends could understand why she became mad when Harry acted thoughtful and considerate. "It's just not him," she would exclaim. Eliza alone would somewhat understand, or at least pretend to. "It just annoys me. Every time we come to a door, he has to stop and open it for me."
"And that annoys you why?" Eliza would ask.
"I don't know," she snapped back. "I just does. I wish..." But she could never quite articulate her feelings.
"How do you know he'll be fine?" Ginny grilled Harry. "Have you seen him?"
"Well, no, I haven't kept up with him anymore than you have." They hadn't been able to stay in contact with Mr. Weasley while he was at Azkaban. "But Sirius was there for twelve years, and he's mostly fine. I mean, it took him a while to recover physically, and he's still trying to recover emotionally, but he's mostly okay."
Ginny grit her teeth. "Oh, well, Sirius...that's fine and good, but..." She gathered her things. "I have to finish my Potions homework. It's too distracting in here." She flung her bookbag over her shoulder and left.
She heard footsteps behind her in the hallway and turned to find Harry following her. "What?" she growled.
Harry lifted an eyebrow. "That's what I was going to ask you. Something's up with you. Can't we just talk about it?"
"No." She turned to leave, but Harry grabbed her arm and held her firmly in place.
"Why not? You're walking around like some kind of injured puppy, feeling so misunderstood and martyred." His eyes were calm, but his words were sarcastic.
She sighed. "Why can't you be like this all the time?"
"Like what?"
"Just you, just Harry. Sometimes you just...you annoy me and I push it away because it's something really small and not worth getting upset over but then they build up and then I explode and I can't even remember why I was mad in the first place!"
Harry was silent a second. "What about me annoys you?"
"Well... Remember when I dropped my books last Monday, and you picked them up for me?" He nodded. "That annoyed me."
He shrugged. "Okay then, I won't pick up your books anymore."
"It's not just that. Oh, I can't explain it. You just stand there like it's all something in my head and you're the one who's being wronged."
"No I'm not," he said, his voice rising to what sounded like a whine.
"You just walk around like you're some kind of saint, some kind of mysterious, powerful being who condescends to be nice to us filthy mortals."
Harry's cheeks reddened. "I never think that! Why would you say that?"
"Because you do! You think you're so special, you never think that you're just another teenager at just another school. You walk around like the weight of the world is on your shoulders when it's not."
"But it is!" he insisted angrily. "I'm the one who's going to be as powerful as Voldemort! Don't you remember the prophecy?"
"But you still just stand here as if this power is going to grow on you magically, and it's not! You have to work at it! Just like always expect to be one of the best in every class without trying hard, just because you're smart. And you always expect to be the best in Quidditch! So you are here, but in the real world you're just another boy who plays Quidditch as a school sport. Don't you see? You were fabulous when you were picked as a Seeker your first year, but have you really gotten any better since then?"
Harry stared at her open-mouthed. "I...I don't know. I never – I don't really look at it that way. Quidditch...well, you've either got it or you don't. I am the best. I can't change that. Excuse me for being honest with myself." She started to walk away. "What?!"
She turned around. "Neville? What about him? Do you think everyone was born that way? Are you content, being the best? So you're the best at Hogwarts, so what? Hogwarts isn't the only school in the world. In the real-world, you're still going to be a small-fry."
Harry was nearly spitting with rage. "No, I'm not. Even Bagman complimented me."
"Yes, Bagman. You're not getting my point. You are good Harry, extremely good – but for a student!" She said the last bit loudly and slowly, as if talking to someone both very old and foreign.
He suddenly grinned. "You're jealous," he said. She shook her head, unable to believe he was telling her this. "That's it, isn't it? You're jealous of me? Had to practice for years just to get half as good as me?" His eyes were almost glowing. Ginny felt sick. "I can't help what I am."
"Je-jealous?!" Ginny was so furious she was shaking. "You worthless piece of dragon dung!"
"Ha! Who saved the Sorcerer's/Philosopher's stone from Voldemort? Who found the Chamber of Secrets? Who rescued you from a slow death of starvation in the Chamber of Secrets? Who defeated the Basilisk? Who repelled an entire army of Dementors? Who won the TriWizard Cup? Who dueled with Voldemort and escaped with his life? Who do you think saved June from the Keep?" His voice rose so that by the end he was shouting. The several students walking by had stopped and stared.
"Who let Pettigrew escape?" Ginny replied. "Whose blood let Voldemort be revived? Who was possessed by a fucking book and tried to kill June? Who's already a murderer at fifteen?"
"HE BLOODY DESERVED IT!" The hallway was very silent except for Harry's deep, harsh breathing.
"Did he?" she asked. "Was it worth it? You could have let him go to Azkaban, get a taste of his own medicine-"
"Azkaban? The Dementors will be under Voldemort's control anytime now. I was the one who heard Voldemort's plan, I'm the one with a link to him."
"Oh, that's very clever of you. You worked really hard at that, did you? All you had to do was let your mother die for you – a piece of cake, right?"
Ginny regretted it the second she said it, but she knew she could never ever take it back. Harry went completely still. His face became gray. "Oh, Harry...I'm sorry," she whispered. But she could feel a rift forming between them. He was pulling apart as she spoke. Although there were tears flowing in a tiny stream out the corner of his eyes, his face was completely blank. He turned and walked slowly away, as if in a trance.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she whispered. She couldn't even begin to convince herself that he had deserved it this time.
* * * * * * * * *
Sirius trotted up the stairs to the boys' fifth year dormitory, wagging his tail fiercely, ready to tell Harry about Arthur's arrival. He had been in shock for days after Peter's death. He had imagined Peter's death so many times, in exquisite detail, but Harry had never fit in the picture. He remembered Harry wanting to kill him back when he was a Third year. Harry had paused then; he had hesitated while standing over Sirius with his wand ready to use, and it had saved Sirius's life. He had looked so innocent and sad then. Sirius had wanted to pick him up and hug him. His frozen heart had thawed and almost broke. What had happened to that sweet little boy?
He reached the top of the stairs and nosed the door open, and used his rump to close it behind him. He didn't smell anyone else in the room, so he changed to his human form and locked the door. Harry was sitting on his bed, staring out of the window. It was white outside, as if the sky had been covered with snow. Harry's face was blank, but his cheeks were red with tear-stains.
He sat down next to him. Harry didn't look up or move or do anything to acknowledge him. Sirius cleared his throat. "So how ya been, kiddo?"
Harry ignored him.
Sirius wrinkled his brow. Harry sometimes became dazed when he was first coming into his Seeing power, but that was months ago. He reached out a hand and gently shook the boy's shoulder. "Harry, come on, what's wrong with you?"
Harry's hand shot out and grabbed Sirius's. Their eyes met. "Don't touch me," he said in a deadly voice, and then turned back to the window, letting his hand fall limply on the bed.
"Harry, please talk to me. I care about you."
Harry laughed cruelly. "Oh, don't I feel special. The only person who loves me spent twelve years in Azkaban and is only half-sane."
Sirius felt his face grow hot. If James had told him that he would have pounced on him in a heartbeat and they would have had a full-out fight that would likely have destroyed the entire dormitory and half of the common room as well. But Harry was different. "It hurts me that you say that..." He took deep gulps of air, trying to cool his notorious temper. "But lots of people care about you. Your friends, your teachers, Dumbledore-"
"Dumbledore cares about the Boy Who Lived. He doesn't care about Harry."
"He does-"
"Then why did he leave me with the Dursleys? Why else did no one take me? Am I that horrible a person?"
"What? You're not a horrible person at all! Why would you say that, Harry?" He tried to keep his cool, say what Remus would say. Now wasn't the time to throw a temper-tantrum. Harry needed an adult, not another angsty teenager.
"It's punishment. That must be it. I'm a horrible person, so I had to be punished."
"Punished? Who punished you? Is it Snape? Is he giving you a hard time? I'll kill him, you know I will, just say the word-"
But Harry shook his head. More tears were gathering in his eyes. Sirius tentatively put a hand on his shoulder again, and when he didn't flinch he tried to give him a one-armed hug. Harry stiffened. No matter how many times he tried to hug him, Harry always stiffened. "Why do you do that?"
"Do what?"
"Pull away when I try to hug you. Do you not want me to hug you? Are you mad at me?" He didn't vocalize what was really on his mind: Don't you trust me?
"It's not you – it's just, I've never been hugged much. I'm not used to it." Harry took a deep breath. "Do you know...a lot of kids had their own bedrooms when they were growing up." He glanced up at Sirius, who pointedly kept his face blank. Harry misinterpreted his look. "It surprised me, too." He opened up a bit. "I knew that Dudley always had his own bedrooms, but... I just...Do you think I'm a horrible person?"
"No!"
"I think I must be."
"What are you trying to tell me?"
Harry smiled sadly. "Ginny's right about everything. I like to think I'm special. I like to think I can do anything. I like to think that everyone looks up to me. I like to think that I'm well liked. I..."
"Harry, everyone thinks that. Well, most sane, non-depressed people do." He thought of Remus, who was prone to depression, and of Harry's friend June, who often seemed borderline. "Everyone likes to think that they're special and have friends who like them. Why does that make you a horrible person?"
"It's kind of new to me. When I lived with the Dursleys I used to think that I was nothing. I knew, deep down inside, that I was special, that I must be more than what they told me. But for years it was...I was Harry, just Harry, not the Boy Who Lived. I was the stupid one, the freaky one, the worthless one." His shoulders sagged. "Ginny said I'm pig-headed."
"She told you that?"
"Not that directly, but that was the main gist of it. She gave me quite a thorough tongue lashing, actually."
"Ouch." Sirius knew only too well how much the contempt of a loved one could hurt.
"Yeah. She made me...she made me feel, for a second, like the Dursleys used to. They used to-" He stopped suddenly.
"What? What is it? Go on."
Harry looked uncomfortable. "I don't...I don't want to make you angry. You might get angry, and that would just upset me, and it'll make it sound worse than it was."
"What did those muggles tell you?" he growled. He knew they had hid the truth of Harry's past from him, but Harry had always been reticent to talk about them.
"Don't get mad, okay?" His eyebrows came together in the middle as he struggled with whatever he was feeling. Sirius wasn't sure how to help him. Harry was a good kid, he was affectionate and honorable, but he did have a lot of emotional issues. The more Sirius learned about Harry, the more alone and troubled the boy seemed to become.
"Even if I get mad, I wouldn't get mad at you. And even if you did do something to make me mad, I'd be mad at what you did, but still not at you. Do you understand?"
Harry's face was blank. "Sure." Sirius thought he was lying. He didn't seem to understand at all. "I just...I don't like feeling like that. Worthless."
Sirius tensed. "How did those muggles make you feel worthless?"
Harry gave a short, mirthless laugh. "Just by being born. I...damn them. I only have to see them over the summer now, and I still..." His face struggled through a variety of emotions, none of which Sirius could interpret. "And then I came here, and – jeez, I have my own bed."
Alarm bells went off in Sirius's head. "What did you do, sleep on the floor at Dursley's?"
"Oh, no – on a cot."
"A cot." Sirius closed his eyes. He had seen the Dursleys' house twice, once many years ago when Lily was still alive and young and again two years ago when he had first escaped Azkaban. "It must have been very small."
"Actually it was too big. It almost didn't fit in the cupboard."
"Why would you put it in the cupboard?" Now he was just confused.
"That's where I slept."
Sirius stared at him uncomprehendingly. "In the cupboard."
Harry relaxed, obviously relieved that Sirius wasn't blowing up. "Yeah. There were a lot of spiders in there. And there wasn't a light. You know, sometimes when I pick up a fiction book, if I'm bored enough, if something happened like that to a character in a story they'd grow up being claustrophobic, and scared of the dark and spiders. But I guess in real life it doesn't work that way." He smiled shyly. "I used to play with them, the spiders. I'd name them and hold them. A lot of people are scared that they'll bite, they never bit me. I'd let them crawl over me. Sometimes I'd wake up in the middle of the night and a whole bunch of them would be crawling over me in a line. I'd just giggle. I guess I thought it was some kind of game. I didn't have a lot to do in there. Uncle Vernon's favorite way to punish me was to lock me in there. Once I spent an entire summer in there. They only opened the door to let me use the bathroom once a day, and to give me some food. But-"
"Wait a second." Sirius interrupted his soliloquy. "You slept in the cupboard."
Harry hesitated. "Yeah." He frowned at Sirius's darkening face. "Don't go all berserk on me. It's not like I've been scarred for life or anything." He frowned.
"How big was this cupboard?"
Harry shrugged. He tried to measure it out using his bed as a reference. "About from here, to here."
"Ah, I see. You slept in a cupboard that was four feet long and two feet wide. That's quite normal."
"Oh, good."
"Are you kidding me?! What the hell was Dumbledore thinking? You stayed with these assholes? I'll kill them! I'll bloody kill them!" Harry instantly crouched down as if expecting Sirius to jump at him. "What else did those...those Mudbloods do?"
"Sirius! Don't call them that! I have friends who are muggles."
"I'm sorry – no, I'm not sorry for anything I call those bloody..." He mumbled a string of explicatives that made Harry wince.
"It's not like they beat me or anything. Well, Uncle Vernon did, but not too much. Mostly they just locked me in the closet. At least they let me stay with Mrs. Figg when they went on vacations. I think they locked me in the cupboard once when they went to the beach for the weekend and I got out and messed up the house, so they didn't want to risk it again." He faltered, seeing Sirius's expression. "How did we even get on this subject? I was just trying to explain how worthless Ginny makes me feel." He laughed. "You're acting like they abused me or something."
"No, it's called child neglect, and it also is illegal."
Harry wilted under Sirius's stare. "Sorry."
"Sorry?! Don't you dare ever let me hear you apologize for those buffoons!"
"Sorry."
"What else?"
"What?"
"Tell me more. What else did they do?"
Harry shook his head. "It'll just upset you."
"Upset me? Why should you worry about having to upset me? You had to live through it, why shouldn't it upset me?"
"Because that's not what I wanted to talk about!" Harry screamed.
They sat staring at each other. "Okay," Sirius said slowly. "We're going to have to finish this conversation sometime, though, you know that?" Harry looked away and gave a half-hearted nod. "What did you want to talk about?"
"What Ginny said. And what happened...with P-Pettigrew."
Sirius found himself filled with cold dread. He had known the instant it happened that he and Harry would have to sit down and have a long talk, but they hadn't gotten around to it yet.
"Do you think I did the right thing?" Harry whispered.
"Do you think you did?"
"Yes," Harry said fiercely. "He deserved to die."
"Yet, two years ago you didn't want me and Remus to kill him. You said your parents wouldn't have wanted us to become murderers for their sakes."
"But now I'm the murderer. Were you surprised when I killed him?"
Sirius took a deep breath. Here goes nothing, he thought. "Frankly, no I wasn't."
Harry looked surprised, then betrayed. "I killed a man and you didn't find it odd?"
"I meant to say, that I don't think it was an uncharacteristic show of violence for you."
Harry sat up straight and drew in a shallow breath. "So you think I'm violent? You think I'm evil? Is that it? I was born a murderer and will end up a murderer."
"Nobody's born a murderer."
"I was. I killed my parents just by being born." Harry held up a hand to stop Sirius's protest. "Say what you want, justify it, but it's true. I wasn't conscious of it at the time, but that's what it comes down to. I killed them by being born."
Sirius looked pained. "They were on Voldemort's hit-list anyway. They were both members of the Order of the Phoenix and strong fighters against the Dark Lord. For all you know, if you hadn't been born they would still be dead anyway. They had made too many Dark enemies."
"And my father was Voldemort's son."
Sirius wrapped his arms around his ribs. "Yes," he choked out. "He was. Voldemort didn't acknowledge him. He thought that dismissing your offspring was the same as negating their existence."
"And you think I'm evil too? Like Voldemort?"
"Don't put words in my mouth. You asked if I thought you were violent, and I said you are. Violence and Dark magic don't always go together hand-in-hand. Your father was violent too; Light as can be, hated anything Dark with a passion, but violent. If someone harmed a friend, he would go after them and beat them until they were a bloody pulp and incapable of ever hurting anyone again. You're the same way."
"But I haven't always been like this, have I?"
"Don't count on it, kiddo. Geez, you went after Voldemort by yourself when you were only eleven years old. Don't fool yourself that you weren't ready to fight to the death whoever you found at the end of the maze. And your second year you killed a Basilisk with nothing but a sword?"
"It was mostly luck," he muttered.
"Then your third year you were blood-thirsty for my life."
"Sorry about that."
"Don't tell me you're not violent. You always have been, and you always will be. You can't change who you are, but you can use what you have to your advantage."
"What do you mean?"
Sirius shrugged. "You use your aggression out in Quidditch, don't you? If someone's next to you trying to reach the Snitch, you're not above giving them a shove out the way, are you?"
"Of course not." How many times had he won having to push his opponent out of the way?
"And you're fantastic at dueling and pick up hexes and curses like a charm." Harry smiled proudly. "The more you know about yourself, the more it helps you. For instance, when you pick a career, maybe-"
"I can be an Auror!" Harry immediately replied.
Sirius laughed. "Yeah, I was going to suggest that. You have the determination and will to fight. It would suit you well."
"Thanks," Harry said brightly. His face fell. "But do you think it was wrong? Me killing Pettigrew?"
"I think...I wish you hadn't. I should have stopped you. Even if he deserved, I wish you hadn't – hadn't made yourself a murderer just for vengeance."
Harry looked as horrible as Sirius guessed he felt. "You know what scares me? I don't feel sorry. When I killed Quirrel-"
"You didn't kill him!"
"It's directly my fault he died. I forced Voldemort out his body. But when I killed him, I didn't feel sorry at all." He frowned. "In fact, most of the time, I think I feel more guilty over the fact that I don't feel guilty."
"In either case you feel guilty," Sirius argued. "So obviously you are fully capable of having morals and feeling guilt, so whatever point you're trying to make is absolutely pointless." He paused. "That was a stupid sentence."
Harry bit his lip. "I guess, I feel guilty about a lot of things. But some things, like helping to steal stuff from Snape's stores, and throwing mud at Malfoy, I don't feel guilty at all."
Sirius guffawed. "If I felt guilty for every single prank I pulled while I was at Hogwarts, I wouldn't have any mental capacity for anything else." Harry opened his mouth, half-grinning, but Sirius cut him off, "And don't you dare tell me whatever smart aleck retort is on the tip of your tongue about my already having a strained mental capacity as it is."
Harry leaned back on his elbows. He reached behind his head to grab a pillow and chucked it at Sirius. "You know me too well, old man."
Sirius mock-growled. "Come on, you brat. Let's go eat lunch. There's a special friend of yours you might be interested in seeing again. He should already be here and have met up with his many children by now."
"Mr. Weasley?" Harry immediately sat up at attention.
"That's him."
"Alright!" He jumped up and ran out the door, Sirius trotting behind him as Padfoot, aka Snuffles.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
[A/N: Ok, we didn't get to the bloody part yet, everyone took too long talking dammit!
-I forgot to mention in the last chapter: Grillparzer, the word to activate the portkeys given to Neville and Llian, is from John Irving's The World According to Garp, which is a very interesting book that CastleRock got me for Christmas. Bless your heart. (Wait, do you even have a heart?...)
I haven't been making many book allusions lately. What's wrong with me?
CastleRock: Damn you for figuring out my nasty little secret. What fun is reading this anymore? You might as well take a nap and save the two minutes it takes to read. I'm sorry I wasn't subtle enough.
MegMeg, the one and only: Thanks for catching my mistakes! I'm going to go back and fix former chapter's mistakes...someday... Thanks for reviewing!
Shahanna: Thanks!
Nilfalasiel: Wow, that's impressive. It's a good amount of reading for only three days. You must be a speed reader. Now, if only I could write that fast... Thanks for reviewing!
serena_kahn: Thanks! June is actually based somewhat off of me (in the sense that any character reflects on the author). She's depressive and emotional, and also a bookworm, writer and musician like me. Unfortunately, having wings is only a fantasy I've had all my life. Maybe I just haven't found them yet :-)
