Author's note: Oh, and thank you to Kyuu (o ever hard-working best friend
of mine) for her unrelenting search for the term "Virida," used in the
previous chapter. I am forever in your debt. ::grins::
And now... onto the fic! ^_^
Harry woke up the next morning content. He was back at Hogwarts, he was in a warm bed, and he was surrounded by friends again... he wondered if he and Ron had all the same classes... His eyes snapped open. Green. The hangings above him were green. Slowly he turned his head to the left. Unless Ron had silver-blonde hair and pale skin, that wasn't a Weasley sitting on the next bed.
The previous day's events flooded his mind, and he stared at Draco. He was still in his pajamas, but awake and peering into a mirror than hung before him. No sun came into the windowless room; Harry realized that the walls gave off a soft luminescence. With light from all directions, there were no shadows on the other boy's face, and it appeared almost unreal, a two- dimensional ethereal painting. His thin face didn't seem gaunt, but softer. Hair fell over Draco's forehead as a silvery veil - his eyes were a soft gray. Wait - eyes? Harry jerked his gaze back to the other's, and Draco raised an eyebrow at him before going back to his hair. Harry flushed and wondered why, and continued to watched as the paler boy murmured a spell and ran his wand through his hair, neatly slicking it back one section at a time. When he was satisfied, he tapped the mirror with his wand and it fell onto his bed, no larger than a sickle. Draco picked it up and tossed it carelessly into his open trunk and turned to Harry.
"Good morning, Slytherin," the blonde greeted him. "Get up. We've got to get to breakfast." He slid his legs over the edge of his bed and stretched. Gathering up a bundle of clothes from his trunk, he disappeared into a bathroom that Harry hadn't noticed the night before, its door immediately beside the entrance to the room.
He peered around the room. It was... different. One part of him felt like an intruder, and screamed at him to get out of the Slytherin dorm! They're your enemies; they hate you! The other half of him saw boys that had been friendly to him last night, and a new home. Sighing, Harry, too, got out of bed and rummaged through his clothes for something to wear, trying to drown out the feuding in his mind. He pulled out several of Dudley's huge, old T- shirts, ratty pants, and a sweatshirt that was a stretched-out lump. He grimaced.
"Do the Muggles give you anything?" a voice in his ear startled him, and he turned to find Draco crouched beside him.
His eyes widened. Draco was wearing blue jeans and a black turtleneck, and black sneakers. Harry felt his breath quicken - would Draco think less of him for his clothes? He hadn't thought to shop for new clothes; he didn't even know where to find them, since Madam Malkin's sold only robes. He flushed and tried to hide the garments, but realized that Draco was waiting for an answer to his question.
"What? No. They Dursleys - my aunt, uncle, and pig of a cousin - hate me. They think witches and wizards are terrible, horrid, unnatural things," he said bitterly. "I'm an eyesore there, nothing more than a servant to order around and occasionally beat." He bit his lip. He hadn't meant to say that. "Anyway, I live in my cupboard most of the time - I suppose there's no- where to put any clothes or belongings."
Draco's eyebrows shot up. "Cupboard?" he repeated incredulously.
Harry nodded grimly, and a little embarrassed. "Just recently they let me move into the extra bedroom upstairs, which is half filled with junk, stuff Dudley doesn't want. I still only get Dudley's huge old clothes." He held up a food-stained extra extra extra large T-shirt disgustedly... and dropped it with a yell as it burst into flames.
Putting his wand down, Draco faced Harry. "You can't wear those. Come here." Wonderingly, Harry followed him to his trunk. Draco shoved a pile of clothes into his arms. "Use these for now. They should fit. Now hurry," he scowled, "or we'll be late." He hesitated. "And I'm not lending you clothes because I'm nice or anything," his eyes flashed. "I just can't stand for a Slytherin to look shabby." He leaned in close and whispered, "I have an image to maintain, you know. Just tell anyone who asks that Draco Malfoy - the git - wouldn't let you look like a slob and ruin the Slytherin appearance, okay?" Harry grinned.
When he emerged from the bathroom five minutes later, he was dressed in a pair of Draco's jeans and a dark green long-sleeved shirt. Hastily, the two slipped on their Hogwarts robes and ran to the common room.
Millicent and Pansy waved to them as they hurried through, and Blaise joined them. Harry rather thought that Pansy, who was sporting a large pink bow in her hair and was probably dressed in pink underneath her Hogwarts robes, was eyeing Draco, and glanced at his friend (it still felt a little weird to call him that). Draco smiled at Pansy, but, as he turned away, his eyes flickered to Harry and he grimaced slightly. Harry bit back a laugh. Blaise nudged Harry in the ribs, rolling his eyes, and Harry snorted lightly. As the three quickly made their way out of the common room and through the twisting passages, Harry reflected on where he was and who he was with.
Slytherins. He was walking along the hall, sharing a joke with Blaise Zabini and teasing Draco Malfoy about a girl. When had he stopped hating Draco, exactly? He had treated Harry and his friends - mostly his friends - badly for the past two years, and had even confessed to wanting to help Slytherin's heir kill off Muggle-borns! He frowned internally. He'd have to ask him about that sometime. But, the taunting... Harry considered it. Their roles in Gryffindor and Slytherin had been similar: a sort of leader of their year, loathe as he was to admit it. Seekers for their Quidditch teams. Two friends - Hermione and Ron, Crabbe and Goyle - that were with them almost constantly. It was natural that they would have some sort of interaction, he reasoned. But how had it become negative? The House rivalry? No, he remembered, it had started before that. It had started in Madam Malkin's when Draco had been boasting about his Quidditch skills and his money. But, after all, look at what he had for a father; how else would Lucius Malfoy's son have been taught to act? And then, on the Hogwarts Express, Draco had offered to be friends. But Ron had snickered at his name, and Draco was offended. He lashed back with the first thing that came to mind - Ron's financial state. Harry sighed. Those two would never get along.
His musings were interrupted when Draco nudged him in the side as they approached the doors to the Great Hall. He murmured out of the side of his mouth, "This way, sir," and bent almost imperceptibly at the waist. It took Harry a moment to remember his comment last night about Draco being a gentleman, and he laughed. Draco smirked, and they followed Blaise and another boy - Harry thought his name was Alec - into the Hall. Hesitating, his feet automatically turned towards the Gryffindor table. But Draco's voice stopped him. "Where are you going, Ha- Potter?" he drawled. "You're over here, remember?" Harry winced as Hermione's shoulders tensed, but neither of his best friends looked up. He let himself be drawn to the Slytherin table, and sat down between Draco and Pansy. Pansy pouted at him. Draco gave him a glance, warning him not to let Pansy switch places with him.
Harry was too preoccupied to pay attention to the girl, though, and told Draco quietly, "I know you're keeping your reputation and all, but I'm still going to try to be nice to Ron and Hermione, okay?"
Draco frowned. "But why, Harry? They're treating you like dirt." He sneered over to the Gryffindor table, but they weren't watching him and the effect was lost.
Harry waited for Draco to turn back to him, and met his eyes. "Just because they're being mean," he said softly, "does that mean I shouldn't give them a second chance?" Draco's eyes widened slightly. "And just because I'm in Slytherin, does that give them any reason to dislike me?" He smiled sadly at the blonde, whose cheeks were flushed. Draco lowered his gaze.
"Sorry," he muttered.
Harry picked up his fork. "It's alright. Just, it'd make things a lot easier for me if you didn't pick on Ron and Hermione for a while." He helped himself to the sausages and fried tomatoes, and grinned. "Besides, it'll give you more quality time to spend with Pans- oof!" He smirked as Draco punched him lightly in the stomach, a piece of his carefully adjusted silver blonde hair falling in front of his eyes.
He was just starting on a muffin a minute later when Pansy happened to glance over to the Gryffindor table and sniffed, the bow on her head bouncing. "Harry, it looks like your friends are thinking about coming over for a chat." She gave him a reproachful glance. "Really, they don't belong over here, even if you do."
Harry couldn't tell if he was pleased to be accepted or sorry that there was no miraculous change in the Slytherin/Gryffindor mentality. He looked over to his former House's table and saw what Pansy was referring to. A couple of the surrounding Slytherins followed his gaze.
Fred, George, Alicia, Angelina, Katie, and Oliver Wood were gathered at one end, shooting glances toward the Slytherin table. Ron and Hermione were seated a bit further down, apparently looking at their new schedules. At that moment, he was handed his new schedule by a Slytherin fifth-year. What was her name? Oh yes, Elizabeth. He thanked her and eagerly tore it open.
Transfiguration, Potions, History of Magic... the usual, with the additions of Care of Magical Creatures (which he had that day, with the Gryffindors) and Divination. He noted with some relief that his schedule was almost identical to Draco's. Blaise also the same classes as Harry, only he and Draco had chosen Arithmancy over Divination.
"Divination?" Draco asked, wrinkling his nose. "D'you believe in that stuff?"
"No," he replied, "It just sounded like an easy A..." He trailed off. "What's Arithmancy, anyway?"
"Something involving numbers. My father said I should take it - better than that load of rubbish you'll be stuck with, at any rate."
Harry nodded, looked up at the teachers' table and, glancing at Lupin, wondered aloud, "I wonder what Defense Against the Dark Arts classes will be like this year." He also caught Hagrid's eye, who grinned at him a little uncertainly. Harry was flooded with relief and he smiled back- Hagrid didn't judge him based on his resorting.
"Anything's got to be better than that stuck-up, no-brain, ugly, bragging git we were stuck with last year!" Draco growled. Harry, Blaise, and a couple of the surrounding non-first years laughed and nodded their agreement, remembering the ridiculous Lockhart.
Their laughter died away, however, when Oliver Wood approached the table. Harry was stunned at how quickly the atmosphere had turned hostile, and nervously looked from Draco to Wood. The former's sneer was firmly in place, and Wood glared coldly at all the Slytherins - including Harry. Marcus Flint stood up.
"What do you want, Wood?" he growled.
"We want to know who your Seeker'll be this year: Potter, the one with a bit of talent and loads of luck, or Malfoy, whose father bought his position on the team?"
Harry and Draco flushed angrily, but Flint replied, "We don't have to anwer that. It's perfectly legal to keep our secrets, Wood."
"Since when do Slytherins care about what's legal?"
Flint ignored him. "Who's your Seeker going to be?" asked Flint shrewdly.
Wood stiffened. "If you must know, Ronald Weasley." Harry gasped. "We're going to beat you, Slytherin."
"Go away, Gryffindor," spat Flint. The Slytherin table watched as Wood made his way back to his table and sat heavily on the bench. Harry caught George's eye, who shrugged back apologetically. Fred nodded over his twin's shoulder. Harry didn't look at Ron.
Flint turned to Draco and Harry. "Well?" he asked, irritated. "Which one will it be?"
Harry was speechless. Draco looked irritated, but his eyes reflected that he was torn.
"Harry, you're a better Seeker, even if I have a better broom. But my father would kill me if I drop Quidditch. I don't know..."
Harry objected. "It's not fair that I should barge into Slytherin and take anyone's spot on the team. Of course you'll be the Seeker."
Flint shook his head. "Stop being noble. Harry, you're a good player. You'd help our chances of winning any day. Draco, you're good at Quidditch in general, but that's from years of practice, while Harry's a natural for the Seeker position," he explained. Flint appeared to be doing some fast thinking. Harry was surprised; from what Wood had told him, Fli- er - Marcus was a moron. "Draco, how would your father feel about you being moved to another position? Beater or Chaser? You need his approval, and his financial aid is what keeps this team in top shape." Marcus grimaced.
Draco smirked. "And he knows it, too, the schemer." He looked rather proud. "But... yes. I think that would work." He turned to Harry, though, and concern flickered in his eyes. "Will you be okay? Against Weasley, I mean."
"Yeah, I'll be fine. Besides, I already know his flying style," Harry answered casually. He knew that wasn't what Draco meant, but the message was clear: ask me later. He glanced back at the schedule that he still held. "Are you done eating?" he changed the subject.
"Yeah, why?"
Harry indicated the parchment. "We've got Transfiguration in fifteen minutes."
Draco made a face. "McGonagall. Ugh. Alright, let's go," he sighed. "Blaise?"
The dark boy shook his head, his mouth still full of a muffin. He mumbled something that Harry interpreted to be "I'll meet you there," although it sounded more like "Ul ee jew der."
Nodding, Harry and Draco set off for McGonagall's classroom.
Note from the author: Yes, I'm terribly sorry I haven't posted. I'm still rather stuck... trying to plan it out, you know? ::sweatdrop:: Maybe I'll just write more and see how it progresses, ne? ^_^ Reviews have been read, and they've inspired me to write again! HOPEFULLY the next chapter will be up this week. Hopefully. ^_~ E-mails are always welcome! And, I know fanfiction.net is a bit tempermental... if you can't see any of the chapters, feel free to e-mail me, and I'll send it/them to you separately.
Harry woke up the next morning content. He was back at Hogwarts, he was in a warm bed, and he was surrounded by friends again... he wondered if he and Ron had all the same classes... His eyes snapped open. Green. The hangings above him were green. Slowly he turned his head to the left. Unless Ron had silver-blonde hair and pale skin, that wasn't a Weasley sitting on the next bed.
The previous day's events flooded his mind, and he stared at Draco. He was still in his pajamas, but awake and peering into a mirror than hung before him. No sun came into the windowless room; Harry realized that the walls gave off a soft luminescence. With light from all directions, there were no shadows on the other boy's face, and it appeared almost unreal, a two- dimensional ethereal painting. His thin face didn't seem gaunt, but softer. Hair fell over Draco's forehead as a silvery veil - his eyes were a soft gray. Wait - eyes? Harry jerked his gaze back to the other's, and Draco raised an eyebrow at him before going back to his hair. Harry flushed and wondered why, and continued to watched as the paler boy murmured a spell and ran his wand through his hair, neatly slicking it back one section at a time. When he was satisfied, he tapped the mirror with his wand and it fell onto his bed, no larger than a sickle. Draco picked it up and tossed it carelessly into his open trunk and turned to Harry.
"Good morning, Slytherin," the blonde greeted him. "Get up. We've got to get to breakfast." He slid his legs over the edge of his bed and stretched. Gathering up a bundle of clothes from his trunk, he disappeared into a bathroom that Harry hadn't noticed the night before, its door immediately beside the entrance to the room.
He peered around the room. It was... different. One part of him felt like an intruder, and screamed at him to get out of the Slytherin dorm! They're your enemies; they hate you! The other half of him saw boys that had been friendly to him last night, and a new home. Sighing, Harry, too, got out of bed and rummaged through his clothes for something to wear, trying to drown out the feuding in his mind. He pulled out several of Dudley's huge, old T- shirts, ratty pants, and a sweatshirt that was a stretched-out lump. He grimaced.
"Do the Muggles give you anything?" a voice in his ear startled him, and he turned to find Draco crouched beside him.
His eyes widened. Draco was wearing blue jeans and a black turtleneck, and black sneakers. Harry felt his breath quicken - would Draco think less of him for his clothes? He hadn't thought to shop for new clothes; he didn't even know where to find them, since Madam Malkin's sold only robes. He flushed and tried to hide the garments, but realized that Draco was waiting for an answer to his question.
"What? No. They Dursleys - my aunt, uncle, and pig of a cousin - hate me. They think witches and wizards are terrible, horrid, unnatural things," he said bitterly. "I'm an eyesore there, nothing more than a servant to order around and occasionally beat." He bit his lip. He hadn't meant to say that. "Anyway, I live in my cupboard most of the time - I suppose there's no- where to put any clothes or belongings."
Draco's eyebrows shot up. "Cupboard?" he repeated incredulously.
Harry nodded grimly, and a little embarrassed. "Just recently they let me move into the extra bedroom upstairs, which is half filled with junk, stuff Dudley doesn't want. I still only get Dudley's huge old clothes." He held up a food-stained extra extra extra large T-shirt disgustedly... and dropped it with a yell as it burst into flames.
Putting his wand down, Draco faced Harry. "You can't wear those. Come here." Wonderingly, Harry followed him to his trunk. Draco shoved a pile of clothes into his arms. "Use these for now. They should fit. Now hurry," he scowled, "or we'll be late." He hesitated. "And I'm not lending you clothes because I'm nice or anything," his eyes flashed. "I just can't stand for a Slytherin to look shabby." He leaned in close and whispered, "I have an image to maintain, you know. Just tell anyone who asks that Draco Malfoy - the git - wouldn't let you look like a slob and ruin the Slytherin appearance, okay?" Harry grinned.
When he emerged from the bathroom five minutes later, he was dressed in a pair of Draco's jeans and a dark green long-sleeved shirt. Hastily, the two slipped on their Hogwarts robes and ran to the common room.
Millicent and Pansy waved to them as they hurried through, and Blaise joined them. Harry rather thought that Pansy, who was sporting a large pink bow in her hair and was probably dressed in pink underneath her Hogwarts robes, was eyeing Draco, and glanced at his friend (it still felt a little weird to call him that). Draco smiled at Pansy, but, as he turned away, his eyes flickered to Harry and he grimaced slightly. Harry bit back a laugh. Blaise nudged Harry in the ribs, rolling his eyes, and Harry snorted lightly. As the three quickly made their way out of the common room and through the twisting passages, Harry reflected on where he was and who he was with.
Slytherins. He was walking along the hall, sharing a joke with Blaise Zabini and teasing Draco Malfoy about a girl. When had he stopped hating Draco, exactly? He had treated Harry and his friends - mostly his friends - badly for the past two years, and had even confessed to wanting to help Slytherin's heir kill off Muggle-borns! He frowned internally. He'd have to ask him about that sometime. But, the taunting... Harry considered it. Their roles in Gryffindor and Slytherin had been similar: a sort of leader of their year, loathe as he was to admit it. Seekers for their Quidditch teams. Two friends - Hermione and Ron, Crabbe and Goyle - that were with them almost constantly. It was natural that they would have some sort of interaction, he reasoned. But how had it become negative? The House rivalry? No, he remembered, it had started before that. It had started in Madam Malkin's when Draco had been boasting about his Quidditch skills and his money. But, after all, look at what he had for a father; how else would Lucius Malfoy's son have been taught to act? And then, on the Hogwarts Express, Draco had offered to be friends. But Ron had snickered at his name, and Draco was offended. He lashed back with the first thing that came to mind - Ron's financial state. Harry sighed. Those two would never get along.
His musings were interrupted when Draco nudged him in the side as they approached the doors to the Great Hall. He murmured out of the side of his mouth, "This way, sir," and bent almost imperceptibly at the waist. It took Harry a moment to remember his comment last night about Draco being a gentleman, and he laughed. Draco smirked, and they followed Blaise and another boy - Harry thought his name was Alec - into the Hall. Hesitating, his feet automatically turned towards the Gryffindor table. But Draco's voice stopped him. "Where are you going, Ha- Potter?" he drawled. "You're over here, remember?" Harry winced as Hermione's shoulders tensed, but neither of his best friends looked up. He let himself be drawn to the Slytherin table, and sat down between Draco and Pansy. Pansy pouted at him. Draco gave him a glance, warning him not to let Pansy switch places with him.
Harry was too preoccupied to pay attention to the girl, though, and told Draco quietly, "I know you're keeping your reputation and all, but I'm still going to try to be nice to Ron and Hermione, okay?"
Draco frowned. "But why, Harry? They're treating you like dirt." He sneered over to the Gryffindor table, but they weren't watching him and the effect was lost.
Harry waited for Draco to turn back to him, and met his eyes. "Just because they're being mean," he said softly, "does that mean I shouldn't give them a second chance?" Draco's eyes widened slightly. "And just because I'm in Slytherin, does that give them any reason to dislike me?" He smiled sadly at the blonde, whose cheeks were flushed. Draco lowered his gaze.
"Sorry," he muttered.
Harry picked up his fork. "It's alright. Just, it'd make things a lot easier for me if you didn't pick on Ron and Hermione for a while." He helped himself to the sausages and fried tomatoes, and grinned. "Besides, it'll give you more quality time to spend with Pans- oof!" He smirked as Draco punched him lightly in the stomach, a piece of his carefully adjusted silver blonde hair falling in front of his eyes.
He was just starting on a muffin a minute later when Pansy happened to glance over to the Gryffindor table and sniffed, the bow on her head bouncing. "Harry, it looks like your friends are thinking about coming over for a chat." She gave him a reproachful glance. "Really, they don't belong over here, even if you do."
Harry couldn't tell if he was pleased to be accepted or sorry that there was no miraculous change in the Slytherin/Gryffindor mentality. He looked over to his former House's table and saw what Pansy was referring to. A couple of the surrounding Slytherins followed his gaze.
Fred, George, Alicia, Angelina, Katie, and Oliver Wood were gathered at one end, shooting glances toward the Slytherin table. Ron and Hermione were seated a bit further down, apparently looking at their new schedules. At that moment, he was handed his new schedule by a Slytherin fifth-year. What was her name? Oh yes, Elizabeth. He thanked her and eagerly tore it open.
Transfiguration, Potions, History of Magic... the usual, with the additions of Care of Magical Creatures (which he had that day, with the Gryffindors) and Divination. He noted with some relief that his schedule was almost identical to Draco's. Blaise also the same classes as Harry, only he and Draco had chosen Arithmancy over Divination.
"Divination?" Draco asked, wrinkling his nose. "D'you believe in that stuff?"
"No," he replied, "It just sounded like an easy A..." He trailed off. "What's Arithmancy, anyway?"
"Something involving numbers. My father said I should take it - better than that load of rubbish you'll be stuck with, at any rate."
Harry nodded, looked up at the teachers' table and, glancing at Lupin, wondered aloud, "I wonder what Defense Against the Dark Arts classes will be like this year." He also caught Hagrid's eye, who grinned at him a little uncertainly. Harry was flooded with relief and he smiled back- Hagrid didn't judge him based on his resorting.
"Anything's got to be better than that stuck-up, no-brain, ugly, bragging git we were stuck with last year!" Draco growled. Harry, Blaise, and a couple of the surrounding non-first years laughed and nodded their agreement, remembering the ridiculous Lockhart.
Their laughter died away, however, when Oliver Wood approached the table. Harry was stunned at how quickly the atmosphere had turned hostile, and nervously looked from Draco to Wood. The former's sneer was firmly in place, and Wood glared coldly at all the Slytherins - including Harry. Marcus Flint stood up.
"What do you want, Wood?" he growled.
"We want to know who your Seeker'll be this year: Potter, the one with a bit of talent and loads of luck, or Malfoy, whose father bought his position on the team?"
Harry and Draco flushed angrily, but Flint replied, "We don't have to anwer that. It's perfectly legal to keep our secrets, Wood."
"Since when do Slytherins care about what's legal?"
Flint ignored him. "Who's your Seeker going to be?" asked Flint shrewdly.
Wood stiffened. "If you must know, Ronald Weasley." Harry gasped. "We're going to beat you, Slytherin."
"Go away, Gryffindor," spat Flint. The Slytherin table watched as Wood made his way back to his table and sat heavily on the bench. Harry caught George's eye, who shrugged back apologetically. Fred nodded over his twin's shoulder. Harry didn't look at Ron.
Flint turned to Draco and Harry. "Well?" he asked, irritated. "Which one will it be?"
Harry was speechless. Draco looked irritated, but his eyes reflected that he was torn.
"Harry, you're a better Seeker, even if I have a better broom. But my father would kill me if I drop Quidditch. I don't know..."
Harry objected. "It's not fair that I should barge into Slytherin and take anyone's spot on the team. Of course you'll be the Seeker."
Flint shook his head. "Stop being noble. Harry, you're a good player. You'd help our chances of winning any day. Draco, you're good at Quidditch in general, but that's from years of practice, while Harry's a natural for the Seeker position," he explained. Flint appeared to be doing some fast thinking. Harry was surprised; from what Wood had told him, Fli- er - Marcus was a moron. "Draco, how would your father feel about you being moved to another position? Beater or Chaser? You need his approval, and his financial aid is what keeps this team in top shape." Marcus grimaced.
Draco smirked. "And he knows it, too, the schemer." He looked rather proud. "But... yes. I think that would work." He turned to Harry, though, and concern flickered in his eyes. "Will you be okay? Against Weasley, I mean."
"Yeah, I'll be fine. Besides, I already know his flying style," Harry answered casually. He knew that wasn't what Draco meant, but the message was clear: ask me later. He glanced back at the schedule that he still held. "Are you done eating?" he changed the subject.
"Yeah, why?"
Harry indicated the parchment. "We've got Transfiguration in fifteen minutes."
Draco made a face. "McGonagall. Ugh. Alright, let's go," he sighed. "Blaise?"
The dark boy shook his head, his mouth still full of a muffin. He mumbled something that Harry interpreted to be "I'll meet you there," although it sounded more like "Ul ee jew der."
Nodding, Harry and Draco set off for McGonagall's classroom.
Note from the author: Yes, I'm terribly sorry I haven't posted. I'm still rather stuck... trying to plan it out, you know? ::sweatdrop:: Maybe I'll just write more and see how it progresses, ne? ^_^ Reviews have been read, and they've inspired me to write again! HOPEFULLY the next chapter will be up this week. Hopefully. ^_~ E-mails are always welcome! And, I know fanfiction.net is a bit tempermental... if you can't see any of the chapters, feel free to e-mail me, and I'll send it/them to you separately.