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27
RUMOUR HAS IT
MUSICAL MOOD FOR THIS CHAPTER:
FLØRE - I'M OKAY, I'M JUST A LITTLE DEPRESSED
"Maybe we should just forget that this whole disaster ever happened and just move on."
It hadn't spread. Although, there was a certain buzz.
While I couldn't be quite sure, I sometimes felt as though people were looking at me; and not in a normal, random kind of way. They were looking weirdly, as though they knew something they weren't supposed to.
It didn't happen all the time, but occasionally; like when I had walked into Transfiguration on Monday and two Gryffindors I had never spoken to in my life had sneaked a quick glance at me before lapsing into excited whispers. A few days later, a girl in the restroom on the second floor had stared at my reflection in the mirror while I had been washing my hands, which Katie insisted I had imagined but I knew I hadn't.
Sure, they were only little, inconspicuous things, but they were enough to make me feel on edge.
"Did you see that?" I hissed through gritted teeth, quickly turning away from the group of seventh year Ravenclaws that had just stretched in their seats at the other end of the table, glancing suspiciously into my direction.
"That's ridiculous, Seth." Katie speared an exorbitantly large blueberry on her fork, waving it in front of her face. "Nobody is looking at you."
I glared at her as she popped the blueberry into her mouth. Naturally, I had told Katie and Sam about these weird incidents but both of them seemed to think that I was just overly sensitive since the whole snogging-James-Potter-in-public-disaster. In fact, Katie was convinced that I was just trying to steer the topic away from James so that I didn't have to talk about him; or the fact that he had rejected me when I was in his bed half-naked , which, admittedly, I had refused to discuss so far.
As much as Katie disagreed, in the spirit of leaving everything behind – most of all James Sirius Potter – I needed to not talk about him.
Ever.
That didn't change the fact that somehow something must have seeped through. At Hogwarts, something always did and the tale of my utter humiliation would soon be fuelling the castle's gossip mill.
"There, they just did it again." I let my spoon plop back into my coffee as I noticed the same group angling their heads to get a better view of us. It was so blatantly obvious that I wondered if they actually wanted me to notice.
"Honestly, you're being paranoid. Believe me, nobody knows that-"
"Psht-" I cut Katie off before she could finish her sentence, earning an irritated eye-roll.
"No one knows, okay?" She insisted. "I asked Angela Kovak what's up and she said 'nothing'"
"Oh well, then." I couldn't help the sarcasm. "If Angela Kovak says that nothing's up-"
"The point is," Katie insisted, her blue eyes finding mine. "It hasn't gotten out. Just be happy and – oh."
"Oh what?" I turned my head automatically and instantly noticed the two girls at the Hufflepuff table who were obviously looking at me. As soon as they realised that they had been caught, they jumped and turned away again, huddling together to converse in excited whispers, but they definitely had been staring.
"Well, that was a weird coincidence," Katie said quickly when she saw the alarmed expression on my face, but I noticed the weird side-glance she exchanged with Sam over her porridge. "Relax, okay? Anxiety is bad for your skin."
I didn't reply and continued to sip my coffee which had turned lukewarm by now, trying hard to follow my best friend's advice. I really wanted to believe that everything was okay and that I was simply overly alert and seeing things that weren't there, but somehow I couldn't shake off the uncanny feeling that something bad was about to happen.
The thick snowflakes fell heavy that day, laced with rain and weighed down to plummet from the sky ungracefully. As January slowly faded into February, the weather got more boisterous, changing the Hogwarts grounds from glittering white fields to a soggy brown mud landscape that made leaving the snug warm castle a proper ordeal. It was therefore no surprise that the Ravenclaw common room was unusually crammed for a Saturday afternoon, making it impossible to find a quiet corner to study.
"How is the Hector-situation?" I asked Sam as we made our way through the clusters of tables and chairs. Across the room, a wave of whoops and cheers rose above the clatter, attracting a number of stares, and I frowned at the group that had collected around Hector Chang - the usual Ravenclaw Quidditch team dolts and adoring fans.
"Yeah, not really a situation." Sam frowned, making a point of not looking at the spectacle as we passed by. "I mean, we're kind of seeing each other but not in public."
"So, nothing's changed?" I pushed open the common room door, glad to leave the chaos behind for a moment. It still felt as though I was being watched which made sitting in the middle of a massive cluster of people not exactly attractive.
"It's different? I guess?" Sam frowned still, the lines on his forehead digging deeper into his skin. "I mean, I get him, you know? It's scary. And it's worse for him with Quidditch and everything. But right now I'm outed to the entire fucking castle while he can just live in this greyzone and it's selfish of me but that's shit."
I looked sideways at Sam's profile, how the torchlight cast strange shadows onto his face, and there was nothing I could say. Nothing helpful, at least. I had been so absorbed in my own life lately that I hadn't even realised how shitty Sam must have been feeling ever since the Christmas party. All this drama that had seeped in thanks to Potter had thrown everything off kilter but slowly, now that he had miraculously disappeared from my life, it was getting back to normal again.
"Are you OK?"
Sam gave me a small smile as he pushed open the door to the library, holding it for me. "Yeah. I mean, not really, but this helps."
We fell silent as we walked in side by side, Sam's voice still echoing from the vaulted ceiling. A couple of people - most likely seventh years by the looks of them - were grouped around the long communal tables near the entrance, mumbling under their breaths. They looked up when they heard the door close but didn't seem to be even remotely interested in us and turned their attention back to their books and parchments that covered the entire work surface.
"Let's try back there," I whispered, which got me a dark glare from Madam Pince, who was perched behind the wooden counter across the entrance. She looked as though she was ready to pounce if I opened my mouth again and so I simply grabbed the sleeve of Sam's jumper and dragged him with me into the labyrinth of groaning book shelves.
"Where did Katie and Tarquin go?" Sam asked as soon as we had brought a couple of shelves between the librarian and us, his voice sounding much louder than it was as it floated into the stillness of the library.
"Tarquin was planning a picnic?" We had turned a corner and a large round-top window came into view. Usually it offered a sweeping vista of rolling hills and the Quidditch pitch in the distance; today, however, there was nothing but torrents of rain. "He probably has a plan B, though."
"He's a weirdo. I like that about him." Sam put his pile of books down on the last free space next to a towering shelf full of dusty volumes which possibly hadn't been picked up in centuries. The prime seats in front of the window had already been claimed by a group of girls who were hunched over their grade four spell books, muttering incantations under their breaths as they tried to get the pronunciation right.
"Defence against the Dark Arts?" Sam sighed heavily, beckoning a thick, purple book at me which looked as though someone had kicked it around the common room several times. It probably had been.
"Go ahead," I told him as I dove under the table to pull the largest and heaviest of my books out of my bag. "I have to finish my essay on poison distillation for Slughorn."
Sam watched me flip through the mouldy book for a moment, a sudden frown creasing his forehead. He looked as though he was fighting a bout of nausea which might have been because the book smelled mildly of old socks. There was no telling what generations of Hogwarts students had done to library books throughout the centuries, really.
"What is it?"
"What?" Sam looked at me as though I had just slapped him across the face. "Um – oh – nothing. I just – I thought how glad I am that I dropped Potions when I had the chance."
"It's not that bad," I laughed, unfurling the scroll of parchment on which I had started my essay, scanning the last paragraph to remind myself where I had stopped last night.
"Only out of interest-" Sam interrupted my train of thoughts, just when I had figured out how to pick up the essay. "How long does it take before potions turn bad? I mean, until they cannot be identified anymore?"
I looked up at him, frowning, and he shifted in his seat uneasily. He seemed to avoid making eye contact with me, which could only mean that he was talking about Albus Potter; like most of the school, since he had returned after Christmas, looking healthy and more like himself than ever with rumpled hair, normal clothes, and – if the rumours were true – newly single again. There was no trace of the terrible effect the mystery poison had had; unfortunately, however, the potion that had been responsible for his alarming collapse at Slughorn's Christmas party had remained exactly that: a mystery.
It wasn't official knowledge, of course, but among the prefects Slughorn's failed attempts at identifying the remnants of poison in Albus' blood had been discussed at length. The popular opinion was that, if one of the most renowned potioneers of our time was unable to even name the potion that had almost permanently harmed a Hogwarts student at a teacher-supervised party, one could only hope that the perpetrator had not set their eyes on them next.
"Well, that depends," I said, leaning in a little when one of the girls next to the window looked up from her book and casually turned her head towards the corner we were sitting in. "Some potions last for years, others only for a day or even an hour. It really comes down to the ingredients."
Sam bit his lower lip as he contemplated my answer. Something about the way he behaved seemed off; his features were taut and his brow furrowed as he began to knead his hands in his lap. He still seemed to avoid my gaze and I finally realised what was really going on.
"Sam," I whispered, leaning across the table even further to make sure that no one would overhear. I grabbed his hands and he stopped fidgeting immediately. "You don't have to worry about the Graviditas. Felicity took it. It's gone. No one will ever find out. I promise."
He finally looked up at me, the odd expression still on his face as he forced a tight-lipped smile. "Yeah. Right." He swallowed, attempting another smile. "You're right. Thanks Seth."
"Sure." I squeezed his clammy hands and gave him what I hoped to be a reassuring smile before leaning back again to resume my Potions essay.
The hours slipped away as I moved through the homework assignments that had piled up during the week. By the time I had finished my Ancient Runes translation, the sun had set and my right hand was sore and weak.
"I can't believe I've still got one to go." I groaned, pulling a grimace at the piercing pain that flashed through my neck and shoulders as I sat up straight for the first time in two hours. Across from me, Sam's head was drooping, his mouth hanging open as soft snoring noises accompanied his low and deep breathing.
"Really?" I laughed, bumping my foot against his shin underneath the table. "Oi, sleepyhead!"
Sam grumbled in response, releasing a string of incoherent syllables before shifting his position to a more comfortable one, his eyes still closed firmly and his arms folded in front of his chest.
"Fine," I sighed, suppressing a yawn myself as I stretched my arms above my head, "I need a book from the Arithmancy section. Don't go anywhere."
Sam answered with another slurred grunt and I pushed myself up from the comfortable wingback chair, resolving to definitely wake him up when I came back. It looked like he had dozed off in the middle of his Astronomy homework, which featured a wonky sort of line-drawing that probably was supposed to be a stellar constellation but rather resembled a connect-the-dots colouring page.
The library had emptied considerably in the last couple of hours, but there were still a few people – mostly fifth and seventh years – tucked away in the many nooks and corners, hunched over books and parchments. There was a particular mood to the Hogwarts library at night, when the flickering flames of the countless candelabras were the only source of light, painting ever-changing patterns onto the bookshelves.
I used to love it; the stillness of it all. How the buzz of the busy afternoon hours faded with daylight and the steady hum of low voices ebbed away until there was nothing but the crackling of the fires. But it felt different tonight. I couldn't help feeling uneasy as I ran my index finger along the spines of the books in the arithmancy section, scanning them for the title I was looking for. It was strange, but as I stood there alone in front of the towering shelf this feeling I had had all week – that I was being watched – suddenly intensified, making the fine hairs in my neck stand up.
"There you are," I muttered as my finger stopped at a particularly old volume, bound in green leather, and I pulled it out of the shelf, releasing a cloud of dust in the process. However, just as I turned around to leave, there was a bang and I collided – book-first – with something hard.
Someone.
"Woah, Woodley!"
Shit.
I tumbled backwards against the shelf, just as two hands grabbed my arms to cushion the impact, and, for a moment, I could do nothing but stare at James with my heart racing and the dusty old book pressed to my chest like I was expecting him to steal it. The truth was that I just needed something to hold on to until my daft heart would stop trying to force itself through my ribcage.
"Jesus Christ, are you mental?"
James only looked at me for a moment; his eyes were dark in the dim light and my breath hitched as they travelled over my face. He was much too close and this was much too strange and I needed to get away.
"Sorry," he said, his voice too low to be anywhere near casual, and I felt the awkwardness between us creep back in like the foul smell of rotten doxy eggs. There was the boy who had seen me in nothing but my underwear. Worse than that, however, he was also the boy who reminded me of that insecure, weak version of myself that had done something so stupid in the first place. "I didn't mean to scare you."
"Then you shouldn't have crept up on me like a mad axe-murderer, should you?" I snapped in a hushed tone, forcing my voice into something akin to normal as I glared at James. The last time we had been this close to each other had been on the train back to school, and I felt the familiar mix of mortification and something much more terrifying that I couldn't quite identify, like prickly needles under my skin.
"Just out of interest, what exactly did you expect to happen in the school library?" James raised an eyebrow at me, looking vaguely amused. Of course, there was no logical explanation for why I was so jumpy but, in my defence, I had spoken to a bodiless voice once who had insisted that someone was plotting against me.
"What are you even doing here?" I was talking about the perpetually forsaken Arithmancy section. James, however, deliberately misunderstood.
"It's a library. What do you think I'm doing here, Woodley?"
There were a dozen snappy, mildly insulting replies I could have thrown at him; unfortunately, none of them came to my mind. Instead, my heart was working itself up into a full cardiac arrest. There I was, in a dark corner of the school library, thinking about the soft light in James's messy room, about the slightly crooked Gryffindor poster above his bed, about the layers of crumpled red tulle on his floor, about his fingers trailing along my spine, about his lips brushing against my neck.
I needed him to take a step back; instead, I felt his hands slide lower down my arms which were still wrapped around the book that had become the sole barrier between us. And then I remembered the look on his face when he had told me that he couldn't fucking do this.
I couldn't do this. I couldn't think about these things and feel like this.
"There you are!" I startled at the voice that sliced through whatever had clotted the air around us like a knife. Someone had appeared behind the corner shelves - a girl - taking a few tentative steps towards us before suddenly stopping dead in her tracks. "Oh – um – sorry, I…"
"Um, hey," I said quickly, pushing past James to finally bring a reasonable distance between us and, for an excruciatingly long moment, no one said anything. I wasn't even sure where to look until James finally cleared his throat.
"Um, Woodley, this is Helen, she's…" He paused for a moment, giving me a strange look. "She's helping me with Potions."
I could feel a tiny pang somewhere in the pit of my stomach, but willed myself to retain what I hoped was an indifferent expression as James's eyes lingered on my face. I had seen him look at me like this before but I didn't know what it meant - if it meant anything at all.
"Helen, this is –"
"I know," the girl said quickly, cutting James off mid-sentence. "I mean, Seth and I know each other." She gave me a small smile. "We're both in Slughorn's Potions club."
"Hi Helen," I said awkwardly, although trying to force a smile as I briefly raised my hand to greet her. It had taken me a moment to recognise the seventh-year Ravenclaw who usually occupied the seat in front of me at the club's monthly meetings. I had never seen her looking so dressed-up before, though, which was, of course, no surprise as we never actually hung out outside the confines of the Potions classroom.
"I just thought I'd see where you'd gone," she said to James, her pillowy lips curling into a smile which made her even prettier. "I saw you wandering off into the wrong section and thought you might have gotten lost."
There was a coy undertone to her voice - like she had envisioned quite a different scenario involving abandoned library sections - and I suddenly felt wildly out of place as I stood there in my loose jumper and the dusty old book wedged in between my arms and my chest. And, even though it shouldn't have, it somehow bothered me that Helen looked so put-together and smart while I had thrown on the first pair of jeans that had fallen out of my wardrobe this morning.
I needed to get out of there. Now.
"Well, happy studying then," I said in a lame attempt at cheerful nonchalance, which I regretted almost instantly when I noticed James's deepening frown and the politely puzzled look on Helen's face.
"I'll -" I stopped talking abruptly as soon as I realised what I had wanted to say: 'I'll see you around', which – and this hit me with unexpected force – wasn't actually true. We wouldn't be seeing each other around; there was no more reason to.
"Goodbye," I said, just as James had opened his mouth to say something and, ignoring the strange expression on his face, I turned away from them and left the Arithmancy section as fast as I could.
It was good that he had asked for someone else to tutor him; I kept telling myself so as I paced past overflowing bookshelves, barely paying attention to where exactly I was going. This probably saved us both hours of mortifying awkwardness.
Why then did my chest feel so tight and heavy?
I stopped to catch my breath for a second, trying to breathe through the large lump that had lodged itself somewhere in the region of my sternum, but it only seemed to swell, pushing violently against my chest.
My head spun and I leaned against the shelf behind me, feeling the sturdy saddles of the old books pressing against my spine as a few wet drops suddenly rolled down my cheeks, dripping from my chin and onto the book in my arms.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" I wiped away the tear streaks on my face, thankful that nobody was around to witness this pathetic display of weakness.
No one would ever know that I had cried because of stupid James Potter.
"You look-"
"Radiant?" I interrupted Katie, flashing a smile at her.
"No." She frowned. "Worrisome."
"Why thank you Kat." I turned my attention back to the bewildered frog on my desk which, just seconds ago, had been a mouse. As it kept trying to hop off the desk, I couldn't help wondering if it had always been that suicidal or if the transfiguration had triggered this particular need to jump to its death.
"Please, talk to me?" Katie's eyes were piercing my temple as though she was trying to see inside my head. "I can't stand this any longer."
"I'm fine," I whispered as Professor Hockanum strolled past our table, looking pleased at the sight of the two healthy frogs that roamed around our desk. "There is nothing to talk about. Honestly."
"Sam said you were crying."
The traitor.
"Are you guys talking about me behind my back?"
"Of course! We're your friends." Katie squeezed her frog so tightly that it issued a panicked squeal, its lanky limbs flinching feebly. "It's our job to worry."
I watched the newly transformed amphibian's anxious struggle for freedom for a bit, not sure what else to say. Frankly, all I wanted was to move on from this entire mess and finally forget about James Potter.
"OK, so maybe you should talk to him," Katie said, loosening her grip on the writhing frog. Despite the growing scowl on my face, she seemed determined to push on. "Maybe it's all just a big misunderstanding. I mean, maybe-"
"Maybe we should just forget that this whole disaster ever happened and just move on." I looked up at my best friend and, in the process, let go of my frog for a fraction of a second, which was enough for it to take a great leap of freedom and promptly fall off the desk with a pitiful squawk. "I'm sorry, Katie, but I really don't want to talk about it – him – anymore."
She looked at me, fierce defiance glinting in her eyes, and I was sure she was going to argue. After a second, however, her features softened. "I want you to be happy"
"I know. I am. Really." I assured her. "Look, I was just embarrassed. This whole thing was excruciatingly humiliating and I guess it just kind of was a bit too much that day." It was the truth; or at least I had been telling myself that ever since my inexplicable breakdown in the library last Saturday. The last couple of months had been more emotionally straining than the past five years at Hogwarts and it was time things went back to normal again.
"Well, can we at least talk about who you'll go to the Valentine's Dance with?" Katie said after a while and I couldn't help groaning as I shook my head.
Fortunately, I was spared the need to reply when a loud knock echoed through the room and the entire class turned around, apparently in desperate need for a distraction.
"Yes!" Professor Hockanum shouted and the door opened with a creak, revealing a tall, blonde boy who I thought I had seen on the Slytherin team before. A couple of girls giggled irritatingly, but he didn't seem to even notice as he walked up to Hockanum's table and handed him a neatly folded piece of parchment.
The Professor studied it for a moment before looking up again, a frown creasing his forehead. "Very well then. Miss Woodley-"
I jumped at the sound of my name, meeting Hockanum's gaze with complete bewilderment. He looked unusually stern which didn't bode well.
"You are to see the headmistress in her office. Without delay."
"What? But why?" Katie's voice rang out next to me before I could even so much as open my mouth. Her tone carried a definite note of indignation and a few people snickered at her reaction. Most of the class, however, was simply staring at me, some undeniably intrigued, others with strangely knowing looks on their faces.
"I'm afraid that is no concern of yours, Miss Banks," Professor Hockanum sighed, albeit sounding quite resolute as he did so. "Miss Woodley. The headmistress awaits you."
My eyes travelled over the paintings that hung impressively behind the sturdy oak desk, but I barely registered the vaguely interested glances I received from their inhabitants. My heart was once again thumping against my chest and my hands felt clammy as I forced them to lie still in my lap. By now, my mind had conjured up the wildest theories of why I had been called into the headmistress's office in the middle of class and none of them was good.
"Miss Woodley," McGonagall finally addressed me after putting down the quill in her hand. Next to her pristine stationary stood a large tartan cookie jar which somehow looked at odds with the otherwise functional items on her desk. "You are aware of what has happened to Albus Potter, I assume?"
I looked up at her, completely caught off guard. "I – um – no. Well, I mean, yes. I know something happened."
"He was poisoned."
I shifted in my seat involuntarily, hoping that the heat that was crawling up my face did not show on my cheeks. Of course I knew that Albus had been poisoned; everybody knew. That didn't change the fact that I wasn't supposed to.
McGonagall studied me for an endless second, her eyes narrowing warily when she finally said, "You don't look surprised."
I sighed, realising that there was no point in pretending. After all, I had been a witness to part of the crime and it was quite understandable that I would be interrogated about what exactly had happened the night of Slughorn's Christmas party. "I just – I heard rumours that it might have been that."
McGonagall still looked rather stiff as she scrutinised me over the brim of her glasses. "I understand that Albus Potter and you have been," she paused for a second, pressing her thin lips together, "- friendly before the incident."
I blinked, too perplexed to actually process the implications of this statement. "We talked occasionally. Yes. But I don't understand-"
"Apparently," McGonagall continued before I even had the chance to finish my sentence, "there is a rumour going around school that it was you who poisoned him."
"What?" I jerked forwards, my fingers wrapping around the armrests of my chair as my head began to swim. "But-"
The headmistress held up her hand, silencing me once again before I could lounge into a ferocious speech for the defence. "Of course, I do not care about juvenile gossip and I usually abstain from indulging in such trivial diversions," she sighed, sounding weary all of a sudden. "But this is about a student's welfare."
"I understand," I said quickly, now gripping the armrests so fiercely that my knuckles turned white. "But I didn't do it. I would never do such a thing!"
She gave me a long, appraising look and a soft muttering broke out around the room as the portraits began to discuss the question of my guilt with each other.
"I wouldn't even have called you here if there had not been a witness who has come forth, linking you to the disappearance of dangerous ingredients from Professor Slughorn's cabinet."
I could feel the muscles in my neck tighten, but I forced myself to sit still as my stomach began to twist.
This could not be happening.
"Caleria root and essence of Gravidas in combination are commonly used to brew a highly complicated potion to determine whether its taker is pregnant." She gave me a stern look before adding, "which is – and I am sure you are aware of this as a Prefect – on the list of forbidden substances at Hogwarts."
It grew silent as McGonagall's gaze continued to linger on me and I knew that I needed to say something. Anything.
I couldn't tell her the truth; admitting to brewing the pregnancy potion would automatically link me to the poison attack on Albus. There was no way anyone was going to believe that I had had nothing to do with it. Even worse, the truth would not only get me into trouble but also incriminate Sam and Katie.
However, I also didn't want to lie.
"I didn't steal the ingredients," I told her truthfully, withstanding her piercing gaze. "I never took anything from Professor Slughorn's cabinet without permission."
The door creaked and, as if he had been waiting outside for his name to be called, Slughorn entered the office, looking mildly curious as he caught sight of me.
"Horace," McGonagall said in a tone that suggested she had been expecting the potions master. "You know Miss Woodley, I take it?"
"Of course," Slughorn boomed in his usual ostentatious manner, giving me a bright smile. "She is my most talented student."
McGonagall raised her eyebrows and I knew instantly that Slughorn had just unknowingly gotten me into even greater trouble. "Do you consider Miss Woodley capable of brewing advanced and potent potions such as Graviditas?"
At the sound of the potion's name, realisation seemed to dawn on Slughorn's face and his chubby cheeks lost some of their puce colour. "Well I-" He spluttered, looking quite helpless as his gaze wandered from McGonagall to me, "Minerva, I really don't think that Miss Woodley would ever-"
"Is she capable, Horace?" McGonagall cut across his mediocre attempts at backpedalling.
The two teachers looked at each other for a moment and, after an excruciatingly long pause in which Slughorn kept dabbing his sweaty forehead, he said meekly, "Yes. Yes, she is. But-"
McGonagall nodded, taking off her glasses as she turned back to me, her expression as unreadable as ever. "As I said, I disapprove of rumours. I have known you as an excellent student, Miss Woodley, but I also have to inform you that I will monitor this situation most closely from now on."
"I – I understand," I replied somewhat trance-like. None of this seemed real and I wondered vaguely if there was still a chance that this might be a bad dream.
"Very well. You may go."
I couldn't remember leaving the office nor descending the winding staircase. The way up to Ravenclaw tower was nothing but a confused blur as I paced along the corridor, bumping into slowly moving bodies left and right, all the while feeling a wave of nausea crawling up my throat. All these weird incidents; the whispers, strangers staring at me – it had had nothing to do with James Potter.
It was me.
People thought I was brewing illegal potions and – worst of all – they seemed to think that I had poisoned Albus Potter.
A/N:
DUN DUN DUN.
And thus the plot thickens.
I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter (which I made extra-long to make up for the lengthy wait) and I honestly can't wait to hear what you think about it! I literally am addicted to your feedback and can't tell you enough how much it means to me to read your notes, comments, reviews, suggestions, etc. Also, I'm always curious on your theories as to WHAT ON EARTH IS GOING ON ;) So leave me a comment, drop me a note, or, if you're feeling extra fancy, I do enjoy poetry as well ;)
Love to you all – I hope you have a spectacular day, wherever you are.