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Thank you
Scratches (ZwergBergen)
December 4, 2003 (Fanfiction.net)
The Mystery of a Whisper
Chapter 1
As he turned his head down, to look at the unknown crawling over his hands, Harry's obsidian hair fell in front of his gaze, making it so anyone who might've been watching him could not see the pearly tears that were forming in his eyes. His verdant eyes, that were starting to become a little more moist than usual, were hollow these days. After the death of his Godfather, which he had only known for over two years, it was about the last straw to this boy's life. With this new developing hindrance that was Draco Malfoy butting into his life, he had more to worry about than school and Quidditch.
Things like this weren't suppose to happen, it was a sick and twisted plot, Harry had told himself when the new term had started two weeks ago. He still thought that it was an evil vile plot of Malfoy's father. Which, of course, it could have been. But, take into consideration, would this Malfoy child, in the past, actually show more emotion to Harry Potter; Golden Boy of Hogwarts; The-Boy-Who-Lived; or in Lucius Malfoy's mind, The- Boy-Who-Should-Have-Died; than the simple Slytherin hatred for all Gryffindors?
Maybe Harry did have to worry about Quidditch, for after a practice fly on the first week, the pale pointed Slytherin had accosted him. Accosted, might just be too weak of a word to describe the interaction. And just thinking about what happened, Harry felt violated, he wanted to go take a hot shower to scrub the dirt and grime, that wasn't there, off. But when Draco Malfoy has something in his sight, someone to work his charm on, by Merlin's name, he was going to get it.
Harry rubbed his hands together, letting two small tears fall onto the back of his left hand before he looked back into the fire. Luckily, it was a little past two in the morning, and there was only one other in the room, Hermione's cat, Crookshanks. A shiver ran down Harry's spine, and he turned to look around him, simple paranoia he had blamed it on. His eyes searched out the invisible anything that just wasn't there this night.
It wasn't there any night.
He did go completely ridged, when something moved the hair next to his right ear, and whispered, deep and throaty, "You can't be paranoid, when they are after you." It was a simple statement such as that, that made Harry narrow his blazing eyes. He frowned at the invisible person, who Harry knew was standing there to the left of him, waiting to be discovered, for that was how Draco's sick mind worked.
"Malfoy," his voice whispered with a dark undertone that just held fire within it. His glasses, weren't helping in the seeing department, at the time, he still had tears that were welling up and sticking to his long raven lashes.
In a sweeping motion, Malfoy's invisibility cloak fell around his ankles, and the boy, himself, looked down at Harry. He had grown over the summer, to become almost as tall as Harry had. For Harry had grown quite a bit over the past few years, and had towered over Draco with a good four inches. But now, there was barely an inch between the two, if Harry had stood up, that is. His lustrous silvery-gray eyes looked down at him, not with pity, but with a touch of sympathy.
"What do you want?" Harry didn't look up at him, but stared straight ahead to a wall across the room, eyes fixed on it, trying not to let the tears course down his reddened cheeks. All his hard work, only made more try to push their way out to the surface, and when they do that, of course they were going to prevail.
A smirk played on the Slytherins features and sat on the arm of the large plush red gold chair. Looking down at Harry, Draco said, "You know exactly what I would like to have." Just like him to talk in a riddle that was so simple that Harry wouldn't have a clue. The rumors were true; Harry Potter did not have a clue when someone was trying to make a move on him.
He looked up quickly, and his eyes told the Slytherin what needed to be said. They blazed a dark emerald in colour, narrowed so what you did see of his eyes were mere slits, shooting daggers his way, hoping that maybe a few would hit Malfoy and render him helpless.
Through his mind, Harry wasn't quite sure what was happening. It kept running around circles, trying to figure out what Draco Malfoy, sinister mastermind of the Slytherin house, was. Last year, this boy had tried to cause as much trouble for Harry as possible, even cornering him so Umbridge could have her way with him. That wasn't the way someone who wanted to get in your pants acted. That was the dilemma, Harry didn't quite know how to act when a manipulative boy wanted him. "You should really get out of here, someone might come down at any moment," Harry's voice whispered to the one sitting too close for comfort. He kept looking at Draco as he reached out with a pale thin-fingered hand. What ever Malfoy was trying to do, here in the common room, could not have been worse than the Quidditch shower rooms. His green eyes followed the hands as they took off the old black rimmed glasses. Draco folded them, and held them within his hand. With his left hand, he reached out just as he had to retrieve the glasses and wiped a tear from Harry's cheek. "I really don't think anyone would bother getting up at this ungodly hour of two." He paused for a moment, letting the tenor of his voice fall around the dimmed room like ice, before going on, "But I did."
Harry rolled his now dry eyes and shook his head at Malfoy; "I would rather like to have my glasses back, everyone knows I cannot see a thing with out them." He looked very irate while waiting for this boy to give him his prized glasses back.
"Don't you want to know why I am here, Potter?" He leaned inwards, towards Harry's ear, licking him slightly, delving in the sweet nectar he found on the outer most rim. He felt Harry shiver in awkwardness, and he gave a low chuckle before running his fingers through the inky coloured tresses that covered his head.
He batted Malfoy away, his shoulders squared and his spine ridged; he really didn't like how he was being touched, for no one had ever even tried such a thing on him before. For his futile attempts, Malfoy only hung onto his hair, inhaling the scent that was all Harry. A defiant smell of orchard plums being picked on a sweaty autumn day and a hint of spice that made Draco want to pull on his hair even harder. "I really don't have a choice now do I, for I have this feeling that you are going to be telling me anyway." His dejected voice rang in Draco's ears, sadness hinted at the edges.
His fingers caressed the others temples and Draco jerked the boy's head to look at him; "Of course you don't have a choice, Potter." Draco's smirk became more evident on his fine penciled features. His painted dark orange lips twisted into a smile and he licked them slowly, savoring in the flavouring Blaise had let him borrow for his late night/ early morning excursion. "And now, tell me Potter, don't you have a choice?" Draco's eyes danced in the firelight, enjoying this for its full worth, toying with Potters insecurities and fears.
He gritted his teeth in response, making himself not answer such a barbaric question. He knew this game, if he answered, he would be in Malfoy's palm, ready to be his lap dog, and no doubt Draco would enjoy that.
His hands traced along Harry's intricate jaw line, and stopped at his chin. Holding his chin tightly in his hand, his hair in the other, he stated, "When I ask you a question, I would sure hope you would answer it, it would make things go along much easier." He traced the boys jaw again until his own thumb was caressing the drying cheeks.
"I would usually have a choice, but you and your sadistic ways would make me not have a choice, now wouldn't they?" Harry countered his voice hard and calculating, he didn't want to put up with this. This was the last thing he needed so late at night and just before bed too!
Draco shook his head, the light blonde locks falling all around his angular face. "Sadistic? I hadn't even thought along those lines, as of yet, Potter." He grinned and added, "Thanks for the idea, but I don't usually derive pleasure from inflicting pain." He looked across into Harry's eyes that were still locked on a piercing glare. "Why do you glare at me, I'm not going to hurt you," he paused for a moment before adding, "this time."
"I am not glaring," he mumbled. "I just cannot see, so I am squinting, you twit." He sighed and was relieved when the caressing hand reached for the pair of glasses balanced on Draco's thigh. Draco held them up in front of Harry, his forefinger and thumb holding the bifocals on the bridge of the nose. Letting his other hand run through that thick fluff upon Harry's head, he smiled and said, "Under one condition, Potter." His smiled twisted more, the lipstick giving him more of a roguish look.
His eyes closed for a moment, extinguishing the fire that burned so fiercely at Draco. As he opened them again, he opened them to their fullest, realizing the it probably didn't matter if he had is glasses or not for the 'fun and games' that Malfoy probably had on his mind. "What condition, would that be, Malfoy?"
Draco thought for a moment, he was hoping that Harry would try to actually fight against him. He was now figuring that he could propose almost anything, almost anything, and Potter would comply just for Draco to leave him alone. His grin spread even wider when a delectable simplistic plot formed itself in his mind, congratulating him in his genius, Draco spoke softly, "All you have to do is sit with me at lunch, later today, and have a civil conversation. And, of course, the topic is my choice."
"Of course," Harry's voice was dripping with sarcasm as he reached out for his glasses. He was yet again mildly repulsed that Draco was pushing his hand away, insisting that he perform the ritual of placing the pair of glasses on Harry's face. What a sick freak, Harry was thinking.
"So, do you comply to the rules? I give you back your beloved glasses, and in return, I get to have a fetching luncheon and conversation with Harry Potter, Hogwarts Golden Boy." Draco grinned as he nodded gloomily as if there was no salvation, for there surely wasn't any while Draco's clutches were suffocating him.
He slipped the glasses onto Potters face gently, letting the moment become savory in his mouth. Harry decided as Draco ran his hand through his hair again, that Draco, for sure, had a fetish with his hair, and his glasses. Oh how the stereotypes that could be named off. He was the prime example to what Seamus called him, a gay blonde. And how long had Seamus predicted this, about a year. Ever since Seamus had 'supposedly' saw the blonde snogging ferociously with Blaise Zabini, another boy of the Slytherin Sixth years, behind Honeydukes on their first trip to Hogsmead last year.
Everyone knew how flamboyant Blaise Zabini was. Stepping about the school with skirts over his pants and fishnets on the weekends when no one was checking dress code. Except Snape, Snape was always one to tell the child to put decent clothing on, but Blaise would just shrug and keep brewing his immaculate potions. Most people said that Blaise Zabini was a mastermind, hiding his true talents from the rest of the world. Possibly, it was the amount of dope the kid smoked with Lee Jordan his first five years at school. Draco knew that he wouldn't touch dope unless it was the last thing he could get his hands on, he rather liked the mushrooms that grew in the Forbidden Forest edge, and they could harvest them during Care For Magical Creatures class too. Oh the wonders of hallucinating.
The lips that Harry was looking at now, they seemed very large, and orange. They not only reminded him of the other Slytherin boy, that Seamus was positive Draco was having relations with, but they reminded him of a poster he had once seen while walking through muggle London with Hermione. She had insisted that they stopped at a record shop so she could pick up a new compact disc from an American band, The Smashing Pumpkins. But, as Hermione was busying herself trying to find the new disc, Harry had gone over to the posters and was flipping through them. The only one worth remembering, was a pair of large lips, orange in colour, which took up most of the poster. The top read, 'The Cure', and around the bottom were pictures of the band. A man with teased up light brown hair, streaked with purple looked up at him with large brown hues, his duplicate orange lips, just like Malfoy's, in a pout. That is what Draco reminded him of now, giant lips plastered on a poster, waiting to be swept away by someone that could help those pouting lips reach their goal and become content.
Draco looked down at the boy with an amused expression dancing in his eyes; he was staring at his lips, how splendid. He tilted Harry's chin up, so he could look into the functional dark green stare. Letting his smile fade, he closed his eyes briefly and bent down, purposely missing the boy's mouth and cheek, but placing a small daring kiss on the boys' jaw. Some of his lip artistry rubbed off, and he was glad, Potter would never find a way to get rid of it, even if he did realize it was there before others commented.
Getting up slowly, and stretching his long limbs, he winked at Harry, his blonde lashes connecting with his cheek for a moment before he said, "I would sure hope, for chivalries sake, you do not blow the lunch engagement. I would be rather disappointed. But I do know where you eat, sleep, go to school, use the bathroom, need I to go on?" He grinned before picking up his cloak, muttering, "I thought not," before and disappearing from sight.
As he waited for the opening and closing of the portrait to sound, he thought quietly trying to figure out Malfoy's master scheme of seducing him. After the Quidditch incident, it was obvious he wanted to get back in his pants. For, in the halls, Draco grinned at him and threw him some weird looks that only he would see. He had that ability, Draco that is, to unnerve each and every one of Harry's living and dead cells. He made the galant Gryffindor a little supressed in the area that someone, other than a girl, was showing a dark and musky lust towards him and it scared Harry. To Be Continued.. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ A loving note, from Scratches, herself-
I sure do hope that you have enjoyed my futile attempt at a fanfiction. I haven't actually written a serious fanfiction, or any fanfiction, in over a year or so. Or, well, fanfiction that was worth typing up.
Though it did come to me as I was listening to a Cruxshadows disc one day in early August, I hope it is worth the time you took out to read this. I'm not sure at the moment where it is going, but I will say that all suggestions are welcome, I love feedback, and I thrive on it. This isn't by far the greatest thing I have written, but I would like to indulge in the fact that it isn't half as bad as some out there, like a few of my random babblings on Fanfiction.net. Yes, I'm a humor writer by trade, although, as of late I have threw in my smiles and traded it for a little bit of sadness, and maybe, you will find some humor in this, I tend to put humor in anything I write.
Once again, I love the fact that you have read Chapter one of "The Mystery of the Whisper." And if you do not like to review on the boards, I do not object to getting email. Although, I don't usually have internet at my own home, I try and check it as often as I can, and I always reply back, even if it is to a flame. Flames are always good to toast marshmallows or my feet when I am cold.
Yes- that is all I have to say, my A/N's seem to be longer than the story, do they not. Oh the wonders of dragging things out.
Yours always,
Scratches Scratches20@yahoo.com
(Feel free to instant message me if I am ever online- infinty24601 is my AIM name. Scratches20 is my Yahoo name. I usually have my AoheL sn blocked so.. yeah. ^-^'')
The Mystery of a Whisper
Chapter 1
As he turned his head down, to look at the unknown crawling over his hands, Harry's obsidian hair fell in front of his gaze, making it so anyone who might've been watching him could not see the pearly tears that were forming in his eyes. His verdant eyes, that were starting to become a little more moist than usual, were hollow these days. After the death of his Godfather, which he had only known for over two years, it was about the last straw to this boy's life. With this new developing hindrance that was Draco Malfoy butting into his life, he had more to worry about than school and Quidditch.
Things like this weren't suppose to happen, it was a sick and twisted plot, Harry had told himself when the new term had started two weeks ago. He still thought that it was an evil vile plot of Malfoy's father. Which, of course, it could have been. But, take into consideration, would this Malfoy child, in the past, actually show more emotion to Harry Potter; Golden Boy of Hogwarts; The-Boy-Who-Lived; or in Lucius Malfoy's mind, The- Boy-Who-Should-Have-Died; than the simple Slytherin hatred for all Gryffindors?
Maybe Harry did have to worry about Quidditch, for after a practice fly on the first week, the pale pointed Slytherin had accosted him. Accosted, might just be too weak of a word to describe the interaction. And just thinking about what happened, Harry felt violated, he wanted to go take a hot shower to scrub the dirt and grime, that wasn't there, off. But when Draco Malfoy has something in his sight, someone to work his charm on, by Merlin's name, he was going to get it.
Harry rubbed his hands together, letting two small tears fall onto the back of his left hand before he looked back into the fire. Luckily, it was a little past two in the morning, and there was only one other in the room, Hermione's cat, Crookshanks. A shiver ran down Harry's spine, and he turned to look around him, simple paranoia he had blamed it on. His eyes searched out the invisible anything that just wasn't there this night.
It wasn't there any night.
He did go completely ridged, when something moved the hair next to his right ear, and whispered, deep and throaty, "You can't be paranoid, when they are after you." It was a simple statement such as that, that made Harry narrow his blazing eyes. He frowned at the invisible person, who Harry knew was standing there to the left of him, waiting to be discovered, for that was how Draco's sick mind worked.
"Malfoy," his voice whispered with a dark undertone that just held fire within it. His glasses, weren't helping in the seeing department, at the time, he still had tears that were welling up and sticking to his long raven lashes.
In a sweeping motion, Malfoy's invisibility cloak fell around his ankles, and the boy, himself, looked down at Harry. He had grown over the summer, to become almost as tall as Harry had. For Harry had grown quite a bit over the past few years, and had towered over Draco with a good four inches. But now, there was barely an inch between the two, if Harry had stood up, that is. His lustrous silvery-gray eyes looked down at him, not with pity, but with a touch of sympathy.
"What do you want?" Harry didn't look up at him, but stared straight ahead to a wall across the room, eyes fixed on it, trying not to let the tears course down his reddened cheeks. All his hard work, only made more try to push their way out to the surface, and when they do that, of course they were going to prevail.
A smirk played on the Slytherins features and sat on the arm of the large plush red gold chair. Looking down at Harry, Draco said, "You know exactly what I would like to have." Just like him to talk in a riddle that was so simple that Harry wouldn't have a clue. The rumors were true; Harry Potter did not have a clue when someone was trying to make a move on him.
He looked up quickly, and his eyes told the Slytherin what needed to be said. They blazed a dark emerald in colour, narrowed so what you did see of his eyes were mere slits, shooting daggers his way, hoping that maybe a few would hit Malfoy and render him helpless.
Through his mind, Harry wasn't quite sure what was happening. It kept running around circles, trying to figure out what Draco Malfoy, sinister mastermind of the Slytherin house, was. Last year, this boy had tried to cause as much trouble for Harry as possible, even cornering him so Umbridge could have her way with him. That wasn't the way someone who wanted to get in your pants acted. That was the dilemma, Harry didn't quite know how to act when a manipulative boy wanted him. "You should really get out of here, someone might come down at any moment," Harry's voice whispered to the one sitting too close for comfort. He kept looking at Draco as he reached out with a pale thin-fingered hand. What ever Malfoy was trying to do, here in the common room, could not have been worse than the Quidditch shower rooms. His green eyes followed the hands as they took off the old black rimmed glasses. Draco folded them, and held them within his hand. With his left hand, he reached out just as he had to retrieve the glasses and wiped a tear from Harry's cheek. "I really don't think anyone would bother getting up at this ungodly hour of two." He paused for a moment, letting the tenor of his voice fall around the dimmed room like ice, before going on, "But I did."
Harry rolled his now dry eyes and shook his head at Malfoy; "I would rather like to have my glasses back, everyone knows I cannot see a thing with out them." He looked very irate while waiting for this boy to give him his prized glasses back.
"Don't you want to know why I am here, Potter?" He leaned inwards, towards Harry's ear, licking him slightly, delving in the sweet nectar he found on the outer most rim. He felt Harry shiver in awkwardness, and he gave a low chuckle before running his fingers through the inky coloured tresses that covered his head.
He batted Malfoy away, his shoulders squared and his spine ridged; he really didn't like how he was being touched, for no one had ever even tried such a thing on him before. For his futile attempts, Malfoy only hung onto his hair, inhaling the scent that was all Harry. A defiant smell of orchard plums being picked on a sweaty autumn day and a hint of spice that made Draco want to pull on his hair even harder. "I really don't have a choice now do I, for I have this feeling that you are going to be telling me anyway." His dejected voice rang in Draco's ears, sadness hinted at the edges.
His fingers caressed the others temples and Draco jerked the boy's head to look at him; "Of course you don't have a choice, Potter." Draco's smirk became more evident on his fine penciled features. His painted dark orange lips twisted into a smile and he licked them slowly, savoring in the flavouring Blaise had let him borrow for his late night/ early morning excursion. "And now, tell me Potter, don't you have a choice?" Draco's eyes danced in the firelight, enjoying this for its full worth, toying with Potters insecurities and fears.
He gritted his teeth in response, making himself not answer such a barbaric question. He knew this game, if he answered, he would be in Malfoy's palm, ready to be his lap dog, and no doubt Draco would enjoy that.
His hands traced along Harry's intricate jaw line, and stopped at his chin. Holding his chin tightly in his hand, his hair in the other, he stated, "When I ask you a question, I would sure hope you would answer it, it would make things go along much easier." He traced the boys jaw again until his own thumb was caressing the drying cheeks.
"I would usually have a choice, but you and your sadistic ways would make me not have a choice, now wouldn't they?" Harry countered his voice hard and calculating, he didn't want to put up with this. This was the last thing he needed so late at night and just before bed too!
Draco shook his head, the light blonde locks falling all around his angular face. "Sadistic? I hadn't even thought along those lines, as of yet, Potter." He grinned and added, "Thanks for the idea, but I don't usually derive pleasure from inflicting pain." He looked across into Harry's eyes that were still locked on a piercing glare. "Why do you glare at me, I'm not going to hurt you," he paused for a moment before adding, "this time."
"I am not glaring," he mumbled. "I just cannot see, so I am squinting, you twit." He sighed and was relieved when the caressing hand reached for the pair of glasses balanced on Draco's thigh. Draco held them up in front of Harry, his forefinger and thumb holding the bifocals on the bridge of the nose. Letting his other hand run through that thick fluff upon Harry's head, he smiled and said, "Under one condition, Potter." His smiled twisted more, the lipstick giving him more of a roguish look.
His eyes closed for a moment, extinguishing the fire that burned so fiercely at Draco. As he opened them again, he opened them to their fullest, realizing the it probably didn't matter if he had is glasses or not for the 'fun and games' that Malfoy probably had on his mind. "What condition, would that be, Malfoy?"
Draco thought for a moment, he was hoping that Harry would try to actually fight against him. He was now figuring that he could propose almost anything, almost anything, and Potter would comply just for Draco to leave him alone. His grin spread even wider when a delectable simplistic plot formed itself in his mind, congratulating him in his genius, Draco spoke softly, "All you have to do is sit with me at lunch, later today, and have a civil conversation. And, of course, the topic is my choice."
"Of course," Harry's voice was dripping with sarcasm as he reached out for his glasses. He was yet again mildly repulsed that Draco was pushing his hand away, insisting that he perform the ritual of placing the pair of glasses on Harry's face. What a sick freak, Harry was thinking.
"So, do you comply to the rules? I give you back your beloved glasses, and in return, I get to have a fetching luncheon and conversation with Harry Potter, Hogwarts Golden Boy." Draco grinned as he nodded gloomily as if there was no salvation, for there surely wasn't any while Draco's clutches were suffocating him.
He slipped the glasses onto Potters face gently, letting the moment become savory in his mouth. Harry decided as Draco ran his hand through his hair again, that Draco, for sure, had a fetish with his hair, and his glasses. Oh how the stereotypes that could be named off. He was the prime example to what Seamus called him, a gay blonde. And how long had Seamus predicted this, about a year. Ever since Seamus had 'supposedly' saw the blonde snogging ferociously with Blaise Zabini, another boy of the Slytherin Sixth years, behind Honeydukes on their first trip to Hogsmead last year.
Everyone knew how flamboyant Blaise Zabini was. Stepping about the school with skirts over his pants and fishnets on the weekends when no one was checking dress code. Except Snape, Snape was always one to tell the child to put decent clothing on, but Blaise would just shrug and keep brewing his immaculate potions. Most people said that Blaise Zabini was a mastermind, hiding his true talents from the rest of the world. Possibly, it was the amount of dope the kid smoked with Lee Jordan his first five years at school. Draco knew that he wouldn't touch dope unless it was the last thing he could get his hands on, he rather liked the mushrooms that grew in the Forbidden Forest edge, and they could harvest them during Care For Magical Creatures class too. Oh the wonders of hallucinating.
The lips that Harry was looking at now, they seemed very large, and orange. They not only reminded him of the other Slytherin boy, that Seamus was positive Draco was having relations with, but they reminded him of a poster he had once seen while walking through muggle London with Hermione. She had insisted that they stopped at a record shop so she could pick up a new compact disc from an American band, The Smashing Pumpkins. But, as Hermione was busying herself trying to find the new disc, Harry had gone over to the posters and was flipping through them. The only one worth remembering, was a pair of large lips, orange in colour, which took up most of the poster. The top read, 'The Cure', and around the bottom were pictures of the band. A man with teased up light brown hair, streaked with purple looked up at him with large brown hues, his duplicate orange lips, just like Malfoy's, in a pout. That is what Draco reminded him of now, giant lips plastered on a poster, waiting to be swept away by someone that could help those pouting lips reach their goal and become content.
Draco looked down at the boy with an amused expression dancing in his eyes; he was staring at his lips, how splendid. He tilted Harry's chin up, so he could look into the functional dark green stare. Letting his smile fade, he closed his eyes briefly and bent down, purposely missing the boy's mouth and cheek, but placing a small daring kiss on the boys' jaw. Some of his lip artistry rubbed off, and he was glad, Potter would never find a way to get rid of it, even if he did realize it was there before others commented.
Getting up slowly, and stretching his long limbs, he winked at Harry, his blonde lashes connecting with his cheek for a moment before he said, "I would sure hope, for chivalries sake, you do not blow the lunch engagement. I would be rather disappointed. But I do know where you eat, sleep, go to school, use the bathroom, need I to go on?" He grinned before picking up his cloak, muttering, "I thought not," before and disappearing from sight.
As he waited for the opening and closing of the portrait to sound, he thought quietly trying to figure out Malfoy's master scheme of seducing him. After the Quidditch incident, it was obvious he wanted to get back in his pants. For, in the halls, Draco grinned at him and threw him some weird looks that only he would see. He had that ability, Draco that is, to unnerve each and every one of Harry's living and dead cells. He made the galant Gryffindor a little supressed in the area that someone, other than a girl, was showing a dark and musky lust towards him and it scared Harry. To Be Continued.. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ A loving note, from Scratches, herself-
I sure do hope that you have enjoyed my futile attempt at a fanfiction. I haven't actually written a serious fanfiction, or any fanfiction, in over a year or so. Or, well, fanfiction that was worth typing up.
Though it did come to me as I was listening to a Cruxshadows disc one day in early August, I hope it is worth the time you took out to read this. I'm not sure at the moment where it is going, but I will say that all suggestions are welcome, I love feedback, and I thrive on it. This isn't by far the greatest thing I have written, but I would like to indulge in the fact that it isn't half as bad as some out there, like a few of my random babblings on Fanfiction.net. Yes, I'm a humor writer by trade, although, as of late I have threw in my smiles and traded it for a little bit of sadness, and maybe, you will find some humor in this, I tend to put humor in anything I write.
Once again, I love the fact that you have read Chapter one of "The Mystery of the Whisper." And if you do not like to review on the boards, I do not object to getting email. Although, I don't usually have internet at my own home, I try and check it as often as I can, and I always reply back, even if it is to a flame. Flames are always good to toast marshmallows or my feet when I am cold.
Yes- that is all I have to say, my A/N's seem to be longer than the story, do they not. Oh the wonders of dragging things out.
Yours always,
Scratches Scratches20@yahoo.com
(Feel free to instant message me if I am ever online- infinty24601 is my AIM name. Scratches20 is my Yahoo name. I usually have my AoheL sn blocked so.. yeah. ^-^'')