The Correct Answer was provided by: SeaWitch225: E, I review (as a guest probably because ooh look I'VE ALREADY REVIEWED CHAPTER TWO, TWO YEARS AGO.) because I need to reestablish my spot as one of your favorite reviewers. *hair flip*
She really is, fam.
Hello, all you Glorious Clumps of Sentient Stardust. Lovely to have you back! To those who have expressed distress over the recent diminishing of the word count for this story: I did warn you... What did you THINK I was doing for the past year? It wasn't all revels and man harems... though... to be fair... that was part of it...
To those who have no idea what I'm talking about: Suffice it to say "Twins" used to be 122k words and 25 chapters long. Shit went down. I tore it apart. Here we are. Moving on.
Content: swearing, tween drama
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of his affiliated nonsense. Let's all just agree to not sue each other, yeah?
Chapter 2: Fool, Cruel, and Ridicule All Rhyme With...
Thoros sipped at a tumbler of scotch as he idly perused his exhaustive records of the Rowle family. A pleasant sort of heat ensconced him and possibilities flit through his mind. Hermione had mentioned, albeit in passing, that Thorfinn Rowle, Torbjorn's boy, had been a bit obnoxious about the Entrance Ceremony. The offense was hardly worth ruining the family over, but nor could it be left unaddressed. If Hermione felt the inconvenience worth mentioning, it hadn't been a petty foible of an inferior. Notts could magnanimously allow those.
A smart rap came from the post window, jarring him from his musings. He snapped the ledger shut and returned it to its place between Ross and Rufford. Rising, unrolling his cuffs as he did so, he edged around his desk toward the little grey owl perched unapologetically beyond the wavy glass.
"A pleasure as always, Pethan." He eyed the irksome bird as she fluttered across the room to jostle Lugus from his branch on the correspondence stand. The dour great horned owl glowered through slitted, golden eyes up at the utterly unconcerned little female. Thoros left the correspondence window ajar. He'd offered his daughter a new owl any number of times, but she was annoyingly besotted with this one.
His irritation couldn't stand before the affection that surged through him at the tingle of his daughter's magical signature on the envelope. He left his wand behind his ear to unravel the layered spells by touch. There were the usual waterproofing, sealing, and stiffening charms for the foggy Scottish sky, but she'd woven a binding charm and a sticking charm together in the strength knot to hold the pages shut.
He undid the lot in about half a heartbeat, but she was improving.
He snapped out the folded parchment and settled into the leather armchair by the fire.
Father, she wrote in cramped, spiky letters.
He frowned and sat a little straighter.
I sincerely hope you are well. It would not…
His eyes caught on the barely intelligible word directly below:
Suffer
The parchment crackled in his grip as his eyes darted over the page. His daughter was clearly upset she tended towards inflated diction and dramatics when she got upset. Still… it had been a week since her last letter…
…receiving adequate nourishment… intellectual stimulation…
His gut clenched at the neatly and emphatically printed line below the first two paragraphs:
I am not.
Rage boiled up his throat, begging to sink an obsidian dagger into something's flesh… Preferably something responsible for his daughter's discomfort, but he'd settle for convenient proximity. Notts do not confine themselves to a single option, after all.
His eyes fastened on a word written in all capital letters and his frown deepened.
… note from a professor for a SPECIFIC text to access any of the interesting books.
He forced himself to relax. To reread the first few paragraphs a couple times. Curious, he peeled the second sheet away from the first to find a neat list of titles. The authors' names all began with "Ne".
Thoros set the letter on the side table to rub the bridge of his nose. There was no indication that his children were in any immediate danger. They were not being mistreated… technically… Everything was probably objectively fine.
He summoned his glass of scotch from the desk. She was just annoyed. He downed his drink in one. He was overreacting, but that could only be expected. He'd never been away from his children for any extended period of time, and he'd entrusted his children to a known adversary. He was allowed to be concerned… He just wasn't allowed to be rash.
Suppressing the surge of adrenaline by sheer force of will, he picked the letter back up.
…first years are required to return to their common rooms by 9 PM.
He snorted. It didn't take a Nott to puzzle out the source of all these new restrictions. A small voice reminded him of the various activities he'd gotten up to with no enforced curfew and unimpeded access to one of the greatest collections of knowledge in Britain.
He shook the voice off.
This was different.
…I would beg you to petition Tibby on our behalf…
...but Notts never beg, he mentally finished what she'd left unwritten. A tiny smile tugged the corner of his lips.
The elves here seem utterly convinced that salt is the Earth's only spice.
"Salt is a seasoning, not a spice," he corrected to himself.
They have access to Helga Hufflepuff's recipes. Surely the Founders didn't eat like this? I cannot believe anyone can survive on meat and potatoes alone. Please refer to my list for suggestions.
He glanced at the second page. Wedged beneath the titles was a short list of spices, "the good salsa," and a cramped "Theo would like torrijas".
The tiny smile deepened with indulgence, and he flipped back to the letter.
They'd had their first flying lesson that afternoon. His smile vanished as his eyes flashed across the page. The Longbottom heir had broken his wrist because the brooms were so old they were practically sentient. This, of course, paled in contrast to the Malfoy boy openly challenging The Boy Who Lived.
His children, it seemed, in protest of Draco's idiotic behavior during the afternoon's flying lesson, intended to spend the rest of the day in the library.
~*TNT*~
By the time dinner rolled around, all the good gossip had been picked over several times. This did nothing to dissuade her social ward.
"But it's not like he'll be expelled," Tracey said breathlessly, her eyes trained on the Great Hall doors.
"Of course not. They're not going to expel The Boy Who Lived," Millie replied. Daphne could sympathize with the girl's eye roll, but she didn't allow herself the indulgence of acting on the impulse.
"You're still on that?" Pansy's abrasive voice cut in. "I want to know if that horror, Brown, is hovering outside the hospital wing waiting for crybaby Longbottom." She cast a glance further down the table.
Daphne followed her gaze, and she immediately had to suppress her smirk. Draco was deep in conversation with Vincent and Gregory.
Daphne patted Tracey's hand absently, a reassuring expression safely in place, before serving herself a dainty bit of shepherd's pie. Thankfully, the girl followed suite.
"Can you imagine, though?" Pansy continued, clearly looking to get a rise from someone. "Lavender Longbottom?" She worked the tip of her tongue obnoxiously to exaggerate the "L" sounds. Daphne gave a delicate but dismissive sound.
"Behold. The triumphant return," Blaise said with a distinct sardonic edge as Potter and his ginger companion made their way to the other side of the hall and their crimson housemates.
The group glanced up as one, then settled back to their plates. Issue closed.
"He's still here!?"
Or not.
Daphne eyed the seething Malfoy boy carefully. She could feel Tracey tense on her other side. She couldn't reassure the girl, not when Draco wore that expression, but nor was it her place to de-escalate. She glanced around. The Notts still hadn't arrived.
"But he left with McGonagall!" Draco said, turning on them when no response was forthcoming.
"Well, he's got to keep up his strength for those Gryffindor cuddle orgies..." Blaise replied. Daphne inhaled slowly through her nose, her eyes fluttering shut.
"Maybe the train back only leaves in the mornings?" Tracey offered. Daphne fought the impatience. Draco did not need...
A bench scraped back loudly.
Merlin.
She opened her eyes.
"I'm gonna go investigate. This is ridiculous!" Draco marched off in high dudgeon, and Daphne wasn't sure whether it was safe to breathe.
"There's no way he got anything worse than detention," Millicent murmured.
"If that," Pansy agreed.
"He's gonna lose it, bless him," Blaise murmured.
"Here?" Tracey hissed.
"Potter's with Weasley," Pansy said, waving a dismissive hand.
"Just because they throw the first hex doesn't mean Draco won't still get detention," Millie interjected.
"Like anyone's going to give Draco detention," Pansy retorted.
"Here we go," Blaise breathed. Across the hall, the ginger Gryffindor had launched to his feet.
"McGonagall might! She doesn't like us!" Tracey whined. The ginger and the Malfoy were practically nose to nose. Potter lept up to grab Weasley's elbow.
The others hushed her.
"Oh… Wait…" Draco rocked back on his heels and crossed his arms. The two Gryffindors stood tense. Draco jerked his chin once. "Nothing. Damn," Blaise mourned settling back into his seat. "Well, there's always next time." He flashed a wink at Tracey. Both eyes closed again.
~*TNT*~
"I don't care what you say, it was still a waste of a perfectly good afternoon, and Papa will agree with me." She set her bag down with a clunk.
"He usually does," Theo replied without inflection, her ire and impatience zinging over his determined disinterest.
"Why does anyone even need to learn to ride a broom? No one uses them anymore, except for Quidditch!"
"Muggleborns," Theo shrugged, pulling out their essays.
"Then make it an elective! Or a Saturday activity! Don't waste my valuable time with rubbish I already know!"
Theo glanced up from his summary on the importance of crisp wand movements for Charms. "We already know the next two years of curriculum..."
She ignored him. "And then, on top of everything else, they make us use whatever those things were!" Her usual chignon was desperately trying to hold together despite the afternoon out in the wind and her irritation now. Sparks crackled blue in its depths. Theo could feel her annoyance whispering tempting possibilities to his.
"Brooms?"
"They most certainly were not brooms! Half of them were sentient, I swear! How old would something as commonplace as a broom have to be to achieve sentience!? A warded book or an ancient estate, perhaps, but a broom?"
He rolled his eyes and bit back a retort. She'd already said all this, and added it to their letter, and lectured him about it on the way to and from the owlery. His annoyance and impatience rolled and stretched without his permission. He could only imagine how worked up she'd get (and get him by extension) if they'd actually gone to dinner and had Draco within lecturing range.
"And then Draco's stupid thing with Potter. Obviously, none of the Gryffindors have any sense. No one tried to stop him when he rose to Draco's idiotic taunting…"
"Keep your voice down," Theo snapped. Their magic roiled. He didn't regret it.
"What imbecile thought it would be a good idea to teach eleven-year-olds how to fly after only a week of classes? And then the professor goes and abandons us, dangerous brooms still very much available, unsupervised with just a threat to keep us from doing anything stupid!"
"Hermione." He could feel her magic growing, swelling as it sapped his.
"Would you relax!? There's no one in here. Everyone's at dinner."
"Oh, and you know that because you've checked?" He glared her down. After a few seconds of eye contact, she dropped her gaze to the floor. Validated by her acknowledgment, he continued, "Besides, I'm not the one who needs to relax."
"I'm completely relaxed!"
"No. You're not. So if you don't sit down, shut up, and breathe for a second, something's going to catch fire or blow up, and I am not going to cover for you when Father finds out."
"Excuse me?"
"You're excused." He'd officially lost all rein on his annoyance.
"Now you listen to-" Magic burst from her threatening finger, but he dodged to the side. His shoulder hit the carpeted floor hard, and he almost knocked his chair over, but he managed to scramble into a defensive crouch behind the other chair and whip his wand out.
"Wait!" she hissed.
He froze. No approaching footsteps. No smoke. His shoulder throbbed a bit, but…
"Wait, what?" he demanded, not lowering his wand a centimeter.
She wasn't looking at him. "I only scorched it!" She flapped her empty hand toward the chair he'd abandoned.
Sure enough, a neat black splotch marred the varnished wood. He turned back to her. "You threw fire at me? In a library?"
"It was an accident and you know it," she retorted, marching past him toward the chair. Theo did not feel her shove was necessary and rubbed his newly re-injured shoulder.
He couldn't help needling her. Just a bit. "It's like the size of my hand… Merlin! Were you even trying?"
"Shut up."
"I don't know if I'm proud or disappointed in you. Usually, you blow a hole in the wall when you try to hit me." His snicker flooded his voice. "I feel so loved."
"There's no trying about an outburst, Theodore Demetrius Creon. You were annoying me, I was annoying you. Oh don't make that face; I could feel it. I just snapped." She turned a significant stare at him. He looked back at the chair in amazement.
It should have been in pieces. Hell, Hermione should have blown it out the stained glass window along with part of the wall.
Understanding broke like a full moon from a cloud bank.
"Accidental magic… the castle… I'll start in histories and school records of incidents resulting in damage!" He couldn't help his grin. This was so much more interesting than stupid crisp wand movements.
His enthusiasm leaked into her expression. "I'll see if I can find anything about the school's warding. Or maybe it's just the library?" Her eyes sparkled back.
Malice prickled through him at her childlike excitement… Accident, schmaccident. She'd thrown fire at him.
He caught her elbow before she could spin away to the endless shelves. "First you have to clean up your mess, Mine," he said in his most condescending big brother voice.
She pulled a face. "Lose the smirk, Teddykins. Just because the castle did something to siphon off the outburst magic, doesn't mean it will do anything to save you if I'm actually trying."
He flashed his teeth and darted off toward the school records section before she could do anything violent.
Like punch him for pinching her.
Or tackle him for stealing her wand.
~*TNT*~
No sooner had the wall melted away than the twins were beset by their year mates.
"Are you ok?"
"This must be such a shock."
"I would owl your father right away, Hermione. This is completely out of line."
"If you need comfort in these trying times, mia bella, I would like nothing more than to be your shoulder."
Hermione fought to tamp down her confusion and stress in the face of this mob of comforting presences. She could feel the urge to throw up a protego tingling through her fingers. Theo was on the defensive too. His distaste and annoyance curled somewhere in her throat, spoiling any composure they'd gained from their time researching. She groped behind her for Theo's hand and returned his steadying squeeze.
Pansy cut through the babble. Both Notts tensed. "Surely such a slight will not be tolerated by your father... Is that where you've been? Having a good cry?"
The little clump of first years froze. Every eye darted from Hermione to Pansy. The girl lounged in the window seat to the right.
Theo's hand tightened in warning around hers. The reminder only sort of helped her suppress the urge to do something unbecoming and violent to the girl's face.
"As a matter of fact, we have been to the owlery to post a letter to our father," Hermione replied sweetly, but with her chin raised at a defiantly regal angle. The girl could keep her face, but only because Theo would lecture her again if she did anything. Notts, composure, and all that.
Pansy's eyes glittered. She swung her feet off the plush velvet seat and leaned forward. "So, it's true then."
"The betrothal is off!?" Tracey yelped. "Just like that!?"
"Hush, Davis, the big girls are talking," Pansy snapped. She prowled forward without taking her eyes off Hermione's face.
"If you recall," Daphne interjected with deadly calm, "Theodore and Hermione missed dinner." Pansy paused and glanced toward her. "The duel was rather hastily organized. I'm sure Draco only named Crabbe his second due to his proximity."
"It would explain how Weasley came to be Potter's second," Blaise put in, studying his nails.
"Draco challenged Harry Potter to a duel," Hermione said. Her fist clenched around Theo's.
Usually, their anger was pretty well balanced. When they fought each other things could get dicey, but for the most part, anger didn't cause problems. Annoyance, yes, anger no. It helped that they had opposite types of anger, Theo thought idly, as visions of drowning Draco in the lake danced in his head. He felt the same outraged disbelief as his darling baby sister, but he didn't want to set the Malfoy heir on fire. This was fortunate for everyone because if he did, castle or no castle, this amount of the same reaction could trigger a rather impressive explosion.
"You mean you didn't know?" Pansy sneered.
"They spent dinner in the library," Millie pointed out.
Hermione's hair crackled audibly. Those privileged with Hermione's acquaintance in their youth knew it was best to get to a safe distance.
Even Theo took a half step back, though he didn't release her hand. He couldn't have her running off to kill his best friend, and if she didn't calm down she'd start hogging their magic. They had rules about hogging their magic.
"Draco challenged Harry Potter to a duel?"
"At midnight," Tracey squeaked. Daphne grabbed the girl's arm and tugged her back.
"Hermione."
"Callate, hermano [shut up, brother]," she snapped. "Where is he?"
"Mine." Theo's voice sharpened.
"No! He can't just openly declare war on The Boy Who Lived. This afternoon was bad enough, pero este es ridículo. Tiene once años, not six [but this is ridiculous. He's eleven, not six]."
"I don't know… Sometimes it's hard to tell…" Blaise commented with a smirk. His dark eyes roved Hermione in frank appreciation.
"Stay out of this," Theo snapped.
"¡Exactamente! ¡No es justo que temenos limpiar his stupid choices [Exactly! It's not fair that we have to clean up his stupid choices!]!"
Theo huffed in annoyance and grabbed her arm. This wasn't good. They hadn't been able to figure out why their spat earlier hadn't blown their library alcove off the castle. For all they knew, only the library absorbed bouts of magic born from tumultuous emotions. She needed to calm down and start listening to him immediately. "People are starting to ward for silence, piuthar beag [little sister]," he hissed. She stilled in his grip and cast a wary glance around the common room. "He'll get what's coming to him, fine, but won't it be so much better to savor it?" he coaxed, slipping fully into Nott Gaelic, ignoring their unobtrusively obtrusive audience. She made eye contact for a few heartbeats, then her magic coiled down beside his. He nodded. Crisis averted.
Then the common room door melted away again.
"You!" Hermione hissed at the blond who swaggered in.
Fortunately, Theo caught her around the middle before she could damage the guy.
"Where have you been!?" she demanded.
"Around…" Draco replied defensively, taking a half step back.
"Wouldn't take that tone, if I were you," Blaise said.
"Gu slaodach [Slowly]," Theo reminded Hermione in an undertone. After a deep, cleansing breath, her eyes never leaving Draco's, she nodded. Theo smiled around her hair at his best friend and gestured toward an empty clump of couches. "Won't you join us?"
Naturally, and to Theo's great annoyance, the others followed.
Hermione sat still and brittle next to him, but Theo forced himself to lounge, eyeing the blond who leaned with determined ease against the wingback chair opposite.
"Would you care to elaborate on "around", Mate?" Theo asked.
Draco cast a glance at Hermione before settling gracefully into the chair. Crabbe and Goyle lumbered up to flank him.
"I was simply out for a stroll."
Hermione snorted.
Draco, with the benefit of years of practice, ignored her. "I may have used the opportunity to explore a few possible advantages for tonight's activities." The blond crossed his arms and eyed Theo with disapproval. "You weren't around to be called formally as my second, so I had to weave my wards another way. It's not like Crabbe will be able to do me justice if Potter somehow cheats."
Behind him, Crabbe flushed.
"I doubt Potter will be able to do much more than shoot relatively harmless jinxes at you." Draco grew, if possible, smugger. "I doubt you'll be able to either, for that matter." The blond's mouth opened for a retort, but Theo merely raised his voice. "We've only been in school a couple weeks. We haven't learned anything lethal." Draco opened his mouth again, likely to inform the assembled just how many lethal curses he did know, but again, Theo overrode him. "Besides, I'm sure you have no intention of breaking any rules tonight. Do you."
Theo tried to glare the other boy into submission, but Draco clenched his fists on his knees. Raising his chin to the patented Heir of House Malfoy angle, he replied, "Rules are for lesser beings and idiots who get caught."
The group descended into chaos.
~*TNT*~
"It's nearly midnight," Hermione yawned from his lap. He grunted. "If he was going to go, he would have done it by now, Theo..."
"You're right."
"Of course I'm right. Now come on. We can probably still get a solid six…"
"He must have snuck past us somehow."
"What!?" Theo shoved his sister out of his lap and wrapped his robe around his pajamas.
"Hermione, there is no way he'd pass up an opportunity to hex Potter and a Weasley. That Filch plan was total tripe."
"You're being paranoid! Draco is in his bed like we should be!"
"Paranoia is just good sense," he snapped. "Are you coming or not?"
~*TNT*~
Hermione was really an excellent sister. Not just any sister would abandon a warm nest of blankets and pillows to search a freezing cold castle for people who aren't actually there. Theo should have been thanking her on bended knee. That or checking her into St. Mungos because she was truly insane to be wandering a Scottish castle in socks.
At least they were fuzzy.
"He said the trophy room at midnight. He'd get there early, though, right? Tempus."
"There is no way Draco would suffer any kind of discomfort or sleep deprivation just for…" There was a crash in the corridor above and a distinct 'RUN!'
"You were saying?"
"I stand corrected."
The pair tore off down the corridor. Hermione paid little to no attention to where they were going. She doubted Theo had any idea anyway. He certainly didn't have a plan… though his lung capacity was rather impressive.
She was about to demand a halt and regroup when they careened into the Idiot Lion Trio in a secret passage.
"Gerroff!"
"OW!"
"What the bl-"
"Quiet! D'you want to bring Filch down here!?" Potter demanded. He was half kneeling on Weasley's back, crouched and eyeing the tapestry at the top of the stairs, his wand out and ready.
"What are you two doing here!?" the ginger demanded in a wheezy hiss. His bathrobe was down around his elbows, pinned in place by Potter's knee, so he couldn't draw his wand properly.
"I don't particularly care for your tone, Weasley," Theo replied, extricating himself from Longbottom's awkward embrace. "That's my twin sister you're addressing."
"I don't care who-"
"Shut up, Ron," Potter said. "Did Malfoy send you?"
Hermione snorted, helping her brother to his feet and brushing him off before she bothered with answering. "Malfoy doesn't decide what we do. We were just having a delightful little stroll until you lot showed up."
"Bullshit. If you get us caught, I'll never rest until I've learned that Curse of the Bogies Quirrell told us about and used it on you."
She opened her mouth to inform the impudent boy he couldn't perform the Curse of the Bogies (found in a lovely read by Vindictus Viridian) with both hands, the Elder Wand, and an instruction manual, but Theo cut her off. "While your tone was excusable given your inferior breeding, I must warn you that openly threatening my sister is decidedly less so."
"We need to get back to the Tower," Longbottom murmured, worried.
"Right. This way," Hermione declared, heading back down the stairs. She could curse the Weasley when they weren't being pursued by a psycho with rheumatism.
"No way," the ginger said, planting his feet.
"We don't have a choice. Filch is back there," Potter said, straightening his shoulders and following. The other two Gryffindors fell in after him, casting wary glances at Theo who brought up the rear.
Unfortunately, they hadn't made it a dozen meters before Peeves exploded out of an empty classroom in front of them. The poltergeist squealed, sending a collective wince through the group.
"Shut up, Peeves- please- you'll get us thrown out!" said Harry.
"No, wait-" Theo tried, but Peeves cut him off.
"Wandering around at midnight, Ickle Firsties? Tut, tut, tut. Naughty, naughty, you'll get caughty!"
"Not if you don't give us away, Peeves! Please! Just let us go!" Longbottom pleaded.
"Should tell Filch, I should. It's for your own good, you know." He was practically bouncing with glee.
"Shut up!" Hermione hissed at the two. She turned back to the poltergeist and pasted on an angelic smile. "We were just trying to follow your good example and breed a bit of late night chaos… we really admire your work, Peeves. You're so clever. Won't you let us pass?"
The imp's little eyes glittered, and his broad smile was full of pointy teeth. "Such a rotten little liar. Little snakie trying to trick ol' Peevsie."
"Trick you?" Theo piped up, "No one can trick you!"
Peeves pursed his lips and eyed them. Then they heard Filch ranting to his cat further down the corridor. "You're going to get us caught!" the weasel one burst out. "We don't have time for this! Move!" He ducked around the poltergeist before anyone could stop him.
Peeves let out a shriek like a banshee. "NO, I WILL NOT HELP YOU SMEAR DUNG ACROSS ALL THE CORRIDORS! BAD ICKLE FIRSTIES! WHAT WOULD MR. FILCH SAY?"
They didn't wait around to find out what, exactly, Mr. Filch would say.
There were fewer doors off this corridor. In fact, the grey stone walls were almost entirely unadorned. Rounding a slight bend, Hermione nearly broke her nose when they collided head-on with a locked door. The ginger git immediately began to panic, and the other two pressed their backs to the scarred wood to stare down their doom in stark terror.
"Oh, honestly," she snarled and shoved them all out of the way before casting a quick Alohamora. Weasley hesitated at the horrid smell wafting from the dingy interior, but she planted her fist in one of his kidneys, and he stumbled in after his Housemates.
They nearly collapsed, catching their breaths and straining their ears to hear Filch's conversation with Peeves. Hermione found herself reflecting on just how much she enjoyed hitting Weasley amidst the cacophony of panting and rumbling. She was pondering, hypothetically of course, how best to get away with punching him again when a voice whimpered, "...guys?"
She glanced up and met the six yellowish eyes of a massive dog. "Is this the forbidden third-floor corridor…?" she squeaked.
"You'd think they'd've warded it better," came Theo's dreamy reply.
Some of this may seem familiar. Kudos to those with the memory to recognize the deja vu moments for the flaws in the matrix that they are... Basically, I kept what I liked... and then internet shredded the rest.
Internet shredded here means "copied it all to a Word Doc then released said Word Doc into the abyss of my hard drive". If you would like to bemoan the loss of something... Feel free to present your case in the Review section or my Inbox and I shall dispense justice accordingly.
QUIZ TIME!
I (the reader), in accordance with the quid pro quo expected in fandom life, will now:
A) Review because I am entirely dissatisfied with everything that has happened in the last 10K words. Such as:
B) Review because I'm still not convinced this is real and what if it all disappears in the blink of my shining beautiful eyes!?
C) Review because I got a response to my LAST review and it was so delightful I want ANOTHER *cue Thor smash*
D) Review because what's with all the Scottish? Where is my Spanish? What are these changes? Control Z this nonsense!?
Furthermore: I will be in the UK for the next month where I will have no guaranteed access to steady wifi (Plus I'm pretty sure fanfic is illegal in Europe now...?). FEAR NOT for my beloved beta, LynEssency, will be publishing the next chapter in a couple weeks.