AUTHORS NOTE!!!!
HI all! I'm terribly sorry about the long wait, and I promise that the next chapter is almost finished. In fact, its almost twice as long as my usual chapter. The thing is, school is mean, and I am sick. Very very sick. In fact, I've only been awake for a total of 4 hours today. Yeah. Anyway, its at my Mother's house, I'm at my Father's, and Hurricane Charley is mean.
I should be sending it off to PK (wonderful, understanding PK who got to meet JKR) either Sunday or Monday. SO! It should be posted next week sometime. The wait is almost over. Here's a snippit to tide you over until then.
hugs and kisses
-Duchess
Ron and Hermione were very different types of people. Anyone could tell this just by looking at them. Ron was tall and gangly, his awkward way of holding himself often left one with the impression of someone completely unused to his body, and his movements were often faintly reminiscent of a muggle performer who walked on stilts. Hermione, on the other hand, was usually completely put together. Shirts were tucked in, ties perfectly tied. The only thing unmanageable about her appearance was her hair, and that usually reflected her rather frazzled nature, always excited about some new idea or concept. Usually, if there were a reason for it, Ron would shake a persons hand, and if they were deemed allowable, attempt to engage them in a rather vigorous thumb war. Hermione would gently press with the perfect amount of force, before quickly leaving to either head to the library, or to go and thing about something the person she was leaving had said. Never let it be said that Hermione ever stopped thinking.
The end of the beginning was perhaps way back in their first year when they had fought the troll. At that time the three story lines officially merged into one, brought together by the lie that Hermione told to try and keep Ron and Harry out of trouble. Could it be then that their entire relationship was based upon lies? No, not lies, rather they were guilty merely of the sin of omission. Secrets told only to each other, laughed at by adults. But Ron's jokes often held a grain of truth in them, and Hermione's exclamations were often wrong. There was so little left now that was truly theirs. For most of the adventures, at least one person now knew. In fact, there was little that the Order did not know now, and how would their relationship change with the Boy-Who-Lived? For better or worse now, the deed was done.
"When I was a child, my cupboard was safe to me. It was in there that I could imagine all the wondrous things that I knew had to be out there, away from the Durselys. I made up my own little world of people and places where it was always bright and shiny and everyone wanted me around for me. I didn't mind the long hours that I was locked up in there because it gave me more time with them. I made the mistake of telling someone once. Just a child on the playground that had been nice to me. They got scared of me, and my imagination, and so they told a teacher, who then told Uncle Vernon." In this utter darkness, Death was the only bright spot and he drew Harry as a moth to flame, and didn't that sound morbid. Without any conscious effort on Harry's part (indeed without any real movement on Harry's part), he found himself gradually moving closer to the older man. He was close enough now that if he chose, he could reach out and run a finger down the embroidery on the man's sleeves. Harry swallowed before continuing. "I was, punished, for such thoughts. That's when the real chores started, anything to keep my body in motion and my brain not functioning. I don't have a lot of memory of that time, but it seems to me that a man came by that I didn't know... he fixed, something. Anyway, that wasn't what I was trying to say, I think." Death's gaze was shrewd, and something told Harry that he had just given away far more than he meant to.