Dear everybody:

*clears throat*

*dramatic pause*

When, in the course of human events, a fanfiction writer finds herself posting the fifteenth part of a long and arduous series, she may find it necessary to refer back to earlier parts of her story in order to make sure she keeps her plot straight and her characters clear.

When I did it, I found the following: A confusing, overcomplicated plot with way too many unnecessary loose ends and red herrings; a set of characters whose characterizations I now disagree with and find two-dimensional and boring; plot holes you could drive a semi through; a sneering, melodramatic pantomime villain; a swooning, overly-lovable Mary Sue of a main character, particularly in the earliest chapters, before Cassie and Stinky came and helped me *schnoogles Cassie and Stinky*; a complete lack of timing throughout the chapters (a dragging first half and a rushing second); and overall, a great big mess of a story which, along with various other nasty hiccups in my private life and, of course, the re-adjustment (read: scary as all Hell) period that accompanies one's graduation from high school, led me to the inevitable conclusion that I should immediately give up my dream of being a freelance writer and find some job that would better suit my talents, such as picking lint out of carpets. I couldn't finish this story, I thought in horror. I couldn't even read it without wincing.

So I took a break. I should have been clearer about it, because I know there were..euh...*counts on fingers* approximately three people out there who actually missed TLL (*gasp*) and might want it back, especially since I promised it within two weeks *hangs head in shame* But I wasn't, as much as I now regret that.

At the moment, to try and overcome my looming sense of despair about this story, I'm undertaking two big projects: one, a complete revamping of BL and TLL, and two, "The Beast", a canon fairytale/founderfic that I've been longing to work on for some months now. I've already done illustrations *grins proudly*

Part 4 of TLL is done; however, it's continued from rather a different story than the BL that those of you who are fans have read. Sure, there are no major plot changes, but I've already done things that change the future of the story considerably; so I don't plan to post TLL4 until I have finished and posted the BL revisions.

Please don't think that taking on "The Beast" will change the "workload" I'm taking on in fan fiction and thus the emphasis I put on TLL. At the moment, TLL is more a chore than an enjoyment, and it shows in my writing--to steal Ebony's metaphor, I screwed up when I was babysitting these kids, and now I simply don't want to work with the monsters I'e created ever again. I *like* "Beast". It's *fun.* It's a side project that reminds me of the reasons that I began writing fan fiction in the first place, and that satisfaction will hopefully help me take pleasure in writing TLL again.

Thanks very much for all your understanding. I love you all--and I really appreciate the kindness you've shown towards me. In particular, to everyone who wrote in their support and concern--thank you. You don't know how much it helped me.

-Rave



P.S. And here's a little Draco-abuse: a TLL4 tidbit for you.

P.P.S. I'm considering whether or not to take TLL and BL off of ff.n. Whether I do or not, all three of you who like this story and aren't on it should go join the yahoogroup HP_Paradise (http://groups.yahoo.com/group/HP_Paradise). It's more fun than a barrel of rabid monkeys, and Ebony and Heidi and Yael and Al and Dadgrid and John Walton Sarah Rettger and Viola and all those fine people are there too, and Starling draws pictures for us and we all have parties where we sing karaoke and dance the chicken dance and drink...non-alcoholic cocktails, because at least one of us (me) is underage and underage drinking is bad. Also, don't do drugs, practice safe sex, and remember: truth, justice, and the AMERICAN WAY! Happy fourth of July.



Three Leaves Left, Part 4.

Omnes Una Manet Nox

Then the darkness at her feet rose up and her lungs froze in her throat and there was no air, no air no air no air and she knew, somehow, that she'd felt this suffocation before, but there was no one in this dead world to lift her from the water--

The wave suddenly crested and broke, leaving her beached and gasping...

...in a Hogwarts classroom.

Gingerly, Hermione picked herself up. She was completely dry, though her body felt like one enormous bruise, and she was freezing cold. Shivering a little, she stooped down to catch her breath--and then froze.

"--worthless child!"

She dared not turn around. She knew that voice, and to face its owner would mean the worst for her...as though facing away would save her.

"Face me!"

Slowly, she turned around to stare full into the face of Lucius Malfoy.

He was not speaking to her, she realized with a rush of giddy relief. He did not even see her...he was facing her, but his eyes went straight through her, to someone on her other side. She whirled.

"Father..."

It was Draco who stood behind her, looking very small and very pale--somehow, though Hermione knew him to be nearly a head taller than she, he looked like a child all of a sudden. A blotch of purple bloomed on his cheekbone. "Dad, I--I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." His usually low, even voice climbed to a high pitch and gasped into a break--"Dad, please!"

Lucius moved like a cat--all Hermione saw was a rush of black robes and suddenly Draco was up against the wall, a trickle of blood leaking from his lower lip. Hermione let out an involuntary gasp and stumbled backwards.

Draco didn't move to cover the wound, to try to soothe it--only stood there, gray eyes open and pleading. Lucius gazed at him with open contempt.

"I tried to raise you to know the importance of our family, Draco." The voice was dangerous, angry. "Did I fail? Have you forgotten how important our legacy is?" Another blur of movement--a sickening crack--and Draco was against the wall again, barely standing, his eyes going momentarily dazed and unfocused as he raised a hand to cradle his head.

Lucius snarled, "Don't you dare touch it!" and Draco's hand fell again to his side. "You have to learn to bear pain, boy."

"I'm sorry, Dad." Draco's voice was barely a whisper.

"You should be." Lucius whirled abruptly on his son again. "Why, Draco, is this kind of behavior forbidden?"

"It's a weakness." Draco leaned against the wall, steadying himself. His arm strained against his side, as though it had been tied there.

Lucius reached--grabbed Draco by a fistful of robes at his collar, and lifted him into the air. Hermione let out an involuntary shriek which neither Malfoy heard. "And in whom have we seen this weakness before, Draco?"

Draco's eyes were wild, panicking--"I--I don't know, Dad! I don't know!"

Lucius dropped him, dispassionately. Draco crumpled, not allowing a sound to escape him.

Stop it! screamed Hermione, throwing herself at Lucius--and falling right through him.

"Your uncle Owen, boy," said Lucius softly. "Have you forgotten your uncle?"

For a moment, looking into that cold, pale face, Hermione could have sworn she saw a flicker of pain in Lucius Malfoy's expression as his eyes swept over his fallen son. "Have you forgotten what happened to him?"

Barely a whisper. "No. Dad. Sir."

"What happened to him?"

"He...he got what he deserved." The words came out flat, rote.

"You're damn right he got what he deserved. He was nothing better than a dirty faggot, boy, unfit to hold the name of Malfoy. And you'll turn out no better."

"I'm sorry. Dad, please, I'm so sorry!"

Lucius stood motionless for a moment.

And then fell to his knees, sweeping the small body of his son into his arms, smoothing back the tousled silver hair. "Draco, son, hush. I only want what's best for you. I want you to be proud and strong in your name. I want you to be happy."

"I know, Daddy. I know."

"I have to do this, Draco, do you understand? I have to teach you to be strong, how not to feel anything, or you will never respect yourself. Do you understand?"

"Of course." Draco pulled back, wincing just slightly as if the movement jarred him. "Yes, Dad."

"Good," murmured Lucius, bending down as if to kiss his son's forehead--and in a sudden harsh movement struck him another blow across the face.

Hermione screamed again and hid her face in her hands. As he'd leaned in, halfway between kissing and striking his son, she'd seen Lucius's face...

He's insane, she thought in a blind panic. He's sick and he's crazy and he's dangerous and I can't just leave Malfoy--Draco--in here with him alone, no matter how much I hate him--

Draco wheezed a little. Hermione peered up through her fingers at him, now bleeding from the nose as well as the mouth, crouched in a corner.

Lucius stood up quickly, shaking strands of whiteblond hair out of his eyes. "I can't stay here and make sure you toe the line properly, boy; I'm flying to Wicklow tonight." A look somewhere between reverence and self-satisfaction hovered around his lips. "Our Lord is finally putting his plan into action, and it is essential that I be there to see it through."

Draco's blue-gray eyes went wide. "Father..."

"You won't have to be in a school full of Mudbloods much longer," said Lucius calmly, pulling on his gloves and reaching for a traveling cloak that lay draped over the desk in the corner of the room. "And I, for one, will be relieved when you're no longer under their foul influence. If it weren't for your mother's sentimentality..." He paused, stiffened. There was a knocking at the door.

"Mr. Malfoy? Are you finished? I need to speak to Draco for a few moments."

It's Dumbledore, thought Hermione, nearly sobbing with relief. He'll stop this, he'll make sure Lucius doesn't do whatever he's going to...

A snarl escaped Lucius's mouth as he whipped around to stare at the door. "Doddering old..."

"Mr. Malfoy?"

Lucius hissed between his teeth and flung one hand at the door. There was a flash of gold-green light for a moment and Hermione fell back, flinging a hand over her eyes--but it was gone as soon as it had come, and Lucius said, in his usual even, drawling tone, "He'll be out in a moment, Headmaster."

Was that a soundblock? wondered Hermione in horror. How can he cast one inside Hogwarts? That shouldn't even be possible--

--and without a wand!

Lucius whirled on his son again, dragging him to his feet by the collar of his robes, and whispered into his ear, "I may not be here to watch you, boy, but rest assured I'll find out about any...deviant...behavior. I recommend you not try anything." He dropped Draco's robes again and the boy swayed slightly, refusing to fall back or stumble. Lucius tossed him something, contemptuously: a handkerchief. "Clean yourself up while I speak to the headmaster."

"Mr. Malfoy!"

"Coming, Headmaster!" And then he was gone, the heavy oak door slamming on its hinges behind him.

Draco slid down the wall to the floor with a little bump and buried his head between his knees, wrapping his arms around his legs: a childlike pose, incongruous with the neatly pressed khakis and white shirt he wore. When he lifted his head again, there was blood spattering the pure-white shirt. Draco cursed softly and pulled a wand from his pocket, pointing it at himself and muttering something, and suddenly the blood was simply...gone. Even his face was clean, though there was still a suspicious hint of darkness on one cheekbone, and his nose was still slightly red and swollen. It looked, Hermione realized, as if he had been crying; and of course that was the one thing he hadn't done.

The door creaked open again--Draco jumped to his feet--and Dumbledore's face appeared in the doorway, looking slightly worried. "Draco? May I speak to you?"

"Yeah, sure," and Draco's voice was back to its old coldness. "I'm coming."

The door closed behind them, leaving Hermione alone and terrified in the empty classroom. What was Malfoy going to do? What was Voldemort going to do?

You won't have to be in a school full of Mudbloods much longer.

Soon the children of Man will share our fate--those who are not lucky enough to have our lineage in them.

Omnes una manet nox.



Somewhere very far away, the ring slipped from her nerveless hand.



and then there was a swirl while mind and body reunited and she gasped as though she'd been thrown into an ocean.