Disclaimer: I own nothing! Except, again, for Anton! He's mine, damn it! (cackles gleefully)
Responses to my Beloved Reviewers: tkmoore, you, my dear, remain the almighty review goddess! Mystick, yeah, you're just lucky you reviewed! I know where you live! (smirks) morphed, well, there's more of the 'time together' as you requested in this, lol! Virginia Riddle-Malfoy, why don't you like Padma? Just curious, lol. Incessant Darkness, thanks, and I dunno, I just get into a flow and it all comes out. :) Lady Eros, thank you! madmissymel, thanks, an yes, I'm going to finish! VidelKM, thanks! aoi-yuki-yume, thank you, and I thought yours would, for you are brilliant and adored, lol. NeoAddctee, hey, she reminds me of me, too. and THANKS!!!! me, thanks, and have patience! GoldHeartSilverTears, thank you so much! Golden Rose Storm, well, this wasn't instantaneous, but I hope it will do! Icy Lullaby, thanks, and I'm glad you liked the F/L thing, it was an idea I'd been playing with for a while, lol. Psi, thanks a million, as usual! bigreader, eat away, and I'm glad to be food anytime, lol. Uniquely-Defined, THANK YOU!! Artemisgodess, thanks, and I hope you like this one! CrackingUp, ahhh! here's more, please play nice! lol sillysun, I just adore you to pieces! (sighs happily and re-reads review) Yep, to pieces!!!! Sunday-Morning, hello beautiful! That…was…an…awesome…review! I love you! And update, update, update! (grins cheekily)
Extended Summary (because this website hates me and wouldn't show it all): Every DxG shipper knows about Fire and Ice, right? Wrong. You only thought you knew before, but that was just a glimpse, a glamour. These are the hidden chronicles, the black scrolls. Three shall tell this tale, and heed their words, for the Hero, the Knights and the Queen do not lie. 'Tis a story of darkness.
……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
Floating on her back amid all of the black petals strewn over the water's surface, Virginia gazed up through the open ceiling at thick, white clouds and a star-studded sky. She was in a large room that tiered up in rising levels to almost three hundred feet above her head, enormous pillars encircling the room at its borders, and shadowed figures could be seen spread out on those landings, the Dark Knights ghosting around her as usual. It was a holy room, the shrine of the Divine Pool, and because of its importance, it was one of the few rooms that was made completely of diamond spelled up from deep underneath Terra's surface.
And while others could observe it from above, none but the Royalist of Royal flesh could touch the water, or even so much as the surface of the floor, without it eating their soul. Which basically meant that only five could experience the dark enlightenment that the water gave, the strength and power and black glory. Twenty years ago, when their rule over Terra was still relatively new, that number was only three. But that was then, so long ago and yet not long at all to her growing immortal perception. An ebony rose petal tickled her cheek, and she sighed contentedly. Let the Dark Gods rule her thoughts, her memories. It was part of what the Pool did, after all.
Begin Flashback:
It all began with her dreams, she supposed, because her earliest memory was of waking from one and running to the twins, black and silver dancing in her head like mad. She knew that no one else in her family would understand even at so young an age, and always, they had been the ones she ran to, because she also knew that they were different, too. They were special, dark like she was, and they could feel the night whispering, even though they couldn't understand it like she did. So the night told her to tell them for it, and she did, letting go under that cover of darkness and saying so many things, things that she couldn't have told anyone else that she knew.
But the dreams stayed with her all of her early years, and she would jump out of her bed once she awoke, her heart quaking with fear and something else, something she was much too young to understand, and she would run to her darling brothers, crawling up between them, seeking comfort and affection and the feeling of their hearts pulsing underneath their skin on either side of her. They never pressed her about what she saw behind her closed eyelids during repose, never even asked until she was seven and tired of life already, the only interesting points being magic and the twins. The rest of her family stifled her, over-protected her, and she felt trapped, confined.
The night was her only escape, and the creatures in the woods around the house never bothered her, because she carried the night itself like a cloak around her. None of its creatures would harm her without its blessing, and that was one thing that it would never give, not even if she demanded it. And sometimes, she felt like demanding it. Sometimes, she wanted to die, because it seemed more interesting than the cramped, dusty house that they lived in, the house that reeked of Light and made her feel like someone was constantly poking her right between the eyes, trying to annoyaggravateinfuriate her until she snapped and forgot propriety entirely.
She hated her mother before she was five, hated her as she would hate few people, because one day, after some family friends had been over and Virginia had calmly walked up to them, asking if the wizard planned to tell his wife that he'd been sleeping with that saucy little witch in the next flat over, her mother had come completely undone for one of the few, rare times in her life. After the couple left, the woman not speaking a word to her pleading husband, Molly grabbed her up and shook her hard enough to rattle her teeth, telling her what a bad, strange little girl she was, and that 'strange' just wouldn't do for their family.
Calling her a liar and asking how she could be telling the truth when she didn't even know what 'saucy' meant or what a 'flat' was, Molly demanded to know why she would make up such a horrid story, such a horrid fib. Virginia told her that she'd just known the moment she'd seen him, that the night had whispered it to her even though it was mid-day, because the night lived inside her. And since it was just another magical wonder to her, she didn't think anything of sharing her thoughts, telling her tale. But Molly paled, turning so sickly white that Virginia was ready to yell for the twins until the sharp slap stung hotly against her cheek.
Astounded, because she'd never even considered the woman hurting her in such a way, her control slipped and the night filled her, its rage numb and thoughtless. She gained introspection from it then, gained suspicion and caution and hate, dark, broiling hate, and as her mother screeched for her to never speak of such a thing again, to never even think of such a thing again, she felt her heart grow cold. Later that day, the night having healed what would have been a bruised cheek, she saw Bill and Charlie and Percy and Ron and her father, and she felt nothing beyond detached blood ties. Not until the twins walked in, laughing, their eyes immediately seeking her out.
Some part of her wished to weep from joy at the fact that she could still feel, because even as a child, she'd known the importance of feeling. And somehow, she got the impression that she wasn't a 'normal' child to begin with. But the twins weren't normal either, and they loved her anyway. They believed her when she told them of the night's murmurings; they believed her when they would sit on the stairs and watch their parents' friends trickle in, her pointing people out and telling them all of their dirty little secrets. But as soon as she turned to her eldest brother again, it was gone, and she was blank and still once more.
It was like that for years; seven to be exact. Even meeting Harry when she was ten hadn't really touched her, not like she knew it had seemed to everyone. She'd been embarrassed, true; but not for the reasons they had assumed. She'd been embarrassed, mortified, because she had had a crush on him, because she had thought that he was more than he ended up being. She'd heard so much about him before, but because of her stupid family, she hadn't known that he wasn't pure because they'd never mentioned it. The twins hadn't been able to disillusion her for the same reason, and only they had known that the real reason she blushed and stammered was horror.
Because they'd all three known immediately, the first time that they'd ever seen him, that he wasn't pure. And in that instant, her crush had changed from 'forever and ever, happily ever after', to 'oh, how bloody disappointing', because she'd always, always known that to mix her blood was to lessen it, and her very core screamed against such a thing. The thought that she'd been fantasizing about babies with a halfblood had sickened her on an instinctual level, and she'd tried, over the next year, to rid herself of those memories. But then, after long letters and talks with the twins being the only things keeping her sane, she'd finally gotten to escape.
It was time to go to Hogwarts.
Too excited to stay quiet, she nagged her father to take her and the twins to Diagon Alley early that summer, right after they'd gotten home, to celebrate their return. He, to their displeasure, invited Ron along, and they all set out, her mother looking on disapprovingly. It was only the ninth or tenth time that she'd ever been away from the Burrow and the land surrounding it, and she desperately wanted a chance to sneak into Knockturn Alley with the twins again. They didn't have enough time, though, and on their way to meet up with their father and Ron at an ice cream shop, they shot the Alley yearning glances.
Then she saw them and her world flipped upside down.
There were two young boys, her age, standing freely where she so wanted to be, the shade cast by the afternoon sun trailing over them like an affectionate caress. The night within her began howling with primal longing that ate at her, demanded that she move forward, that she clutch at destiny's very throat and shake it into submission, and she whimpered from the intensity of it all, her heart picking up pace as that familiar trickle of fear washed through her. The boys' hair, gods, their hair screamed out to her, the colors even more vibrant than in her dreams, like the thick paint on an palette before a brush is running through it and spreading it on the canvas.
But no mere paint, muggle or mage alike, could match those colors, could perfect those startling shades. No paint on the planet could capture the dark, shifting glow of the sapphire-bright strands running through all of that ebony, and not even substituting paint for pure liquid mercury could do the other's justice. She saw two images as she soaked in everything about them that she could, one more solid than the other, as if there was a them, and then a ghost them hovering right outside of their skin. The 'real' ones were the ones that she was utterly taken by, that glorious hair falling past their shoulders, the dangerous darkness in their eyes highlighting that spot of fear.
The misty images, the ones wavering around them like skin that didn't fit quite right, had shorter hair, the black sheared off enough to curl slightly, and the silver slicked back without a strand out of place to flutter in the breeze. And those eyes…those eyes reminded her of her own when she glanced in the mirror and she was around other people, that natural, fake expression of childish ignorance, and it seemed so much more wrong on them, since she could see the brilliant, dark knowledge shining out from their true eyes. Her head started swimming and she thought that she might pass out, her knees weak and her breathing erratic.
And the night still howled and howled.
"Ginny?" The twins asked, and she could only murmur a reply slowly, so slowly, because she felt as if she were in a dream after all, colors and flashes of pale flesh racing through her mind in a continuous circle, like a wheel turning madly, one that she couldn't stop, didn't want to stop, even as it terrified her.
"Black and silver…blue and mercury."
Everything made so much sense and yet none at all, and it wasn't until the two boys were whispering into each other's hair, pressed together as snugly as puzzle pieces, that inconceivably blue eyes lifted and met hers, and those lips froze. A second later, silver followed their path, and she was like the deer that she came across at night, the limber, graceful creatures that would stop everything so completely when they saw her, as if they knew, somehow, that they were prey to the darkness inside her. And she knew, right then and there, that she was prey to those boys' darkness, prey to anything they wanted her to be prey to, as long as it was for them and only them.
The twins drug her away, their eyes wide as they muttered something about being late, their gazes still locked onto the two that she couldn't rip her own away from. She knew who they were, anyone would upon seeing that hair and those eyes, no matter if they saw the true image or the glamour, and she knew, more than she knew anything else, that to one of her bloodline, they were forbidden and had been ever since the Weasleys had split from the dark centuries ago. They would cost her everything if she gave in to them, her name and her family and her life as she knew it, but she didn't care about those things anyway, except for the twins.
Let it all burn and fade. Let a new age arise from the ashes of the old.
End Flashback
Oh, and it did, she thought dreamily. We destroyed it all and made it again, made it so much better than before. Something brushed against her back underneath the water, but she paid it no heed. The bottom of the Pool was a portal to Hell, and it could be any number of things, none of which would harm her. Whatever it was had tentacles, that much was obvious as one wrapped around her waist. Well, around much more than just that, actually, considering that it was as thick as a tree truck, the poison of the suckers not fazing her flesh in the least. It squeezed once, gently, then fell slowly away, as if it didn't want to lose the contact but feared to touch her overly long.
Her alabaster skin wasn't even red, not that she had expected it to be, and the water underneath her grew warmer, the great beast curling up just out of touching range, its body heat like red-hot coals, like Tom's eyes…Gods, how she hated that bastard even in death. His betrayal had been like a knife in the back of her soul, and she narrowed her eyes at the stars shining above her, as if they should have to answer for his sweetly-spoken lies. Because she had loved him as one loves an elder brother, as she loved the twins, and she had since she was eleven. He had been like them, he had known the real her, and he had accepted her, praised her, loved her.
And in the end, that had made his deception all the more painful.
Begin Flashback:
She was shocked when the diary first responded to her scrawled entry, but curiosity overcame any doubt, and she wrote back eagerly. His name was Tom Riddle, he was sixteen forever, and he knew exactly what she was thinking all the time, because they thought so very much alike. He knew that she loved shadows and dark, winter nights, or any night at all, he knew that she dreamed of things she couldn't fully comprehend; he knew that she followed two certain Slytherins with her eyes everywhere that they went. When they'd first had that discussion, he'd surprised her by saying that he knew them, because they'd written to him, too.
After her fifth round of pleading, he'd told her all he knew from them about Malfoy Manor and the main Zabini estate, Morte Nera. He told her all about the grand balls and the black coven meetings, told her all about Slytherin and depravity. She knew that most adults she knew would be appalled at the things in her head, but that wasn't a strong enough word for what they would be had they read the things Tom spoke to her about. Her fascination with them grew and grew, as did her fear, and Tom said that she was so drawn to them because they were the only people that truly frightened her, because they were the only ones who could add that decadent element.
She didn't really understand him then, but she would later, and it hadn't mattered at the time. She'd been mostly content just watching them and writing to Tom, who became almost as good of a friend to her over the months as her beloved twin brothers, who meant the world and more to her. So she strangled the chickens and prowled the halls, and though she didn't get to kill anyone, she did have quite a bit of fun. Between Tom and the twins, she knew all of the secret passages in the school, and the Chamber became a haven when Lee had a girl over or the twins were at Quidditch practice. And through it all, she watched the boys that she couldn't help gazing at.
That year came and went, and she was quietly devastated when Harry destroyed the diary, when he destroyed one of her very best friends. She was angry, so angry, and she wanted to kill him even as she thanked him, and only the twins and Lee saw through her façade. She'd begun teaching them the Dark Arts when Tom had started teaching her, and Lee was slowly growing on her, her view widening to eventually see him as her third brother, since after that summer of treacherous lies and righteous deceit, she acknowledged no other family, not even her aunts and uncles and cousins, who were right there with the rest in that dark, whisper-filled living room.
She watched hate grow in the twins' eyes those nights that they sat and listened and seethed, and she would curl up between them later and tell them not to worry, that they would all get their revenge one day. They would make them all pay. Her family, Harry, Dumbledore…They would all pay. It was a mantra that she chanted to herself at night, and it kept her going for another three years of stupid school and faked crushes, of constantly pretending to be someone and something that she wasn't. But she was reminded, every time that she sought out the heirs to the families most despised by her own with her eyes, that she was not alone in pretending.
And she wore glamours just as they did, glamours to hide as much of her…oddity from others as possible, and it wasn't hard to fool the halfbloods and mudbloods at all. The purebloods were a different story, though, and sometimes, she would see Angelina or Lavender or Parvati or Neville looking at her strangely. It could have been more of a problem had Ron not been as blind as he had always been, but shit, he barely glanced at her in the first place, much too busy trying to save the world as the sidekick of a halfblood and a mudblood. He sickened her. At least the rest of her family had wizened up after her first year, no matter how far into denial they stayed.
But he stayed fooled and she hid under layers and layers of dark spells, spells that cloaked her true appearance and left that familiar, ghostly illusion floating above her skin. At the time, the only people that she knew could see through it were the twins and Lee, though sometimes, she would see something in Dumbledore's light blue eyes, some knowledge and wariness and fear, as if he knew, already, what she would one day do, what she would one day be. But she didn't, she just knew that she grew more bored with school by the day, desperately wanting a change, an escape. And then, one night in the dead darkness of the dungeons, she got both, and so much more.
She was down there because she liked slinking around the school at night, her brothers and Tom having long ago assured that, although she rarely went in the dungeons, because they were said to be heavily guarded and she didn't want to anger the ones that she could never stop thinking of. But she went that night, for no reason that she could ascertain, and it really shouldn't have been such a surprise to her when her back hit the damp, stone wall of one of the passageways hard, when her wand was snatched out of her hand and her head slammed into the wall. Regaining herself quickly, she lashed out with a closed fist and a furious kick.
Her knuckles contacted bone, her foot the tender back of a knee, but a muffled exclamation was all she heard from her attacker before they fell, and another set of hands latched onto her. She spun, trying to shake them off, rage eating at her. Who dared accost her in such a way? The night roared within her and her teeth sank into flesh as she jabbed her elbow into their ribs, a stifled curse her reward that time. Then the other hands were back, a fist smashed into her face, a wand lit up, and she was staring at Pansy Parkinson, who looked quite enraged. Well, she was enraged, too, and she could play games as well as any.
Slamming her foot into whoever's was behind her, their grip lessened only for a second, but it was enough for her to wrench one arm away with strength that she didn't usually show, and her clenched hand connected with Pansy's face again, knocking the girl back and into the other wall. But Pansy recovered quicker than she should have, a telltale flicker of black in her cognac eyes, and she was back on her in a second. Whoever was behind her had a grip like steel, but she was beloved of the night, and it filled her with strength she shouldn't have possessed. Slamming her elbow into their face that time, she ripped Pansy off of her and barely felt any pain.
She should have, though, because the other girl's nails had done a number on her face, small flaps of skin going unnoticed due to the blood that was oozing quickly from the deep (for fingernails) wounds. Then a hand was in her hair, yanking her back into a solid body, and her infuriated eyes lifted to see Anton McGregor's expressionless face, one side of which was swelling as he watched Pansy rise. The other girl briefly cradled one of her wrists, which looked broken, gazing at the snapped limb in momentary disbelief before her own enraged eyes were meeting Virginia's, a knife sliding out of her pocket and into her good hand.
"Enough."
Someone spoke from behind her, in a voice that expected to be listened to, and Pansy froze instantly, her blade already cocked back and ready to throw. But Virginia didn't freeze, because she had known, looking into the girl's eyes, that she would kill her, right there in the bowels of Hogwarts, and she wouldn't think twice, because she'd killed before and she had the resources to cover up any…mishaps. So Anton, who had also gone stiff at that command, his grip loosening, wasn't prepared for her attack that time. She moved in a blur, whipping around and decking him hard in the jaw, putting her weight behind it like her brothers had taught her.
"I said enough."
There was that voice again, and between one second and the next, she'd been slammed into another wall, strands of her hair ripping out in Anton's fingers as he fell into someone's arms, and there was another hand there, tighter than his had been. Her skull cracked against the stone a lot harder than last time, stars flashing in front of her eyes, and to her confusion and growing fright, the night suddenly went silent and docile inside of her. When her vision cleared again, she saw why. It was Draco that had her pinned to the rough wall, his eyes flashing dangerously, and a coil of desire unwound within her along with the familiar fear.
She knew not what to say, did not even know if she could speak, because she'd never been so close to him before, and he smelt divine. She wanted to crawl inside him, wanted to get underneath his skin, and she knew that she was mad for even considering it. But gods, could he be more perfect? There were no ghostly images to distract the eye now, it was just him, and she wanted, wanted, wanted. She wanted everything, anything, that he would be willing to give her, to share with her, and she had learned long ago that she would do anything to get what she wanted. And damned if he didn't see it all when mercury met gray and a small moan escaped her.
A platinum eyebrow rose in the largest show of true astonishment that she had ever seen from him, before his hand tightened ever farther, a sneer twisting his lips. And she found it utterly endearing, not to mention fucking hot, biting her bottom lip in an effort not to forget all pride right then and there and beg. She wasn't that lost yet, thank the gods, at least not until the final piece clicked into place and she was falling, falling fast and hard into something dark and endless, something that possessed and consumed her, and all it took was midnight blue eyes and a shock of onyx hair appearing over Draco's shoulder, regarding her curiously in a detached, lazy way.
Everything became startlingly clear.
She was theirs, from that moment on, to do with as they wished. But she would be damned if she didn't make them hers as well. She had heard rumors and gossip about these two, and they were said to have hearts of black ice, their interest in others being only skin-deep. But as she looked at them, really looked at them, she wondered if that peculiar glint in their eyes was there because they knew what lurked beneath her skin as only a few others did, because they knew that she was different, different like they were different. Calling on every bit of arrogance that she held within her (which was actually quite a lot), she started a new game.
"Fancy meeting you here." She said softly, letting the words twist and curve over her tongue as her lips rose in a half-smirk, half-grin. Her voice was breathy, the pain at her scalp doing things to her that she hadn't known pain could do, and Blaise tilted his head to the side in a graceful, predatory movement while Draco's grip tightened again and nearly lifted her toes off of the floor. She couldn't stop a full-on moan that time, and they exchanged short glances before their attention came back to her.
"Indeed." Draco drawled, his gaze traveling over her face slowly, carefully, and she wanted to tell him not to be careful, that he didn't have to be careful with her, but Blaise spoke, and her eyes shot to him like bees to honey.
"You smell like lust." He said, those indigo eyes all that she could see as he leaned closer, and she wanted to say, 'Yes, I probably do. I wonder why that could be,' but she couldn't seem to form any words at all when Draco moved toward her too, and since the space between them had been almost nonexistent to begin with, that pressed their bodies together most delightfully. And distractingly.
"You smell like you want to fuck." That from Draco, cold breath brushing over her neck and ear through the strands of her hair that weren't pulled taut in his fist, and she had to tell herself repeatedly that fainting would most definitely ruin the haughty, coy attitude that she was projecting.
"Do I?" She managed to question, internally crowing with victory when her voice came out even and husky.
"Yes." He hissed, his free hand, which had been on the wall caging her in, dropping to her hip and grasping it hard enough to bruise as he pulled her even closer against him.
Her legs rose of their own accord to wrap around his waist, her open robe sliding down her thighs with the movement, and she briefly wondered what someone would say if they happened upon them right then. But that was unlikely considering where they were, and the only other people in the hall were Blaise, who watched them with hooded eyes, and Pansy and Anton, who were standing behind them with their backs turned to them, their eyes facing outwards and scanning the darkness to either side. Draco growled and ground against her, growing hard when she did anything but refuse, a gasped groan trickling from between her parted lips.
Then the world spun and she was bereft of that pressing closeness for a split second, before he was behind her, his back to the wall and his hands underneath her thighs, holding her legs up as they had been. Then Blaise was between them, his lips on hers, and she was so stunned and thrilled and drowning in desire that all she could do was kiss him back as hungrily and demandingly as he was kissing her, squirming against Draco as she did so, so lost in the wild sensations careening through her that the castle could have fallen down around their heads and she wouldn't have minded the least little bit. She just wanted more.
Then they flipped on her, Blaise behind her and Draco back in front before she had even fully registered the loss of those seductive lips, and her head was swimming so madly at that point that she had no idea which way was up or down, left or right. Her skirt was bunched up at her waist, the velvet of Draco's robes rubbing against the thin material of her panties, and Blaise's hands were smoothing down her sides, her hips, her thighs, while Draco's drugging mouth made her utterly insensible once more. It didn't matter that she barely even knew them, that they were practically strangers since she'd only spoken to them, what? Once, twice?
None of that was even a concern though, because it felt like she'd known them both forever, ever since she'd seen them that day in Knockturn Alley over four years before. And that feeling was magnified then, so she didn't hesitate to let herself sink under the waves of the pleasure they were ravishing her with, didn't hesitate to do whatever they wanted there, then, or in front of a million watching eyes if they wished it so. One of her hands went behind her, clutching Blaise's hip like a lifeline, while the other tangled itself in Draco's hair like his had been in hers earlier, and then a series of things happened at once that would later be but a blur of undiluted ecstasy.
Blaise's hand slipped underneath her thigh, two fingers shoving inside her without any preamble whatsoever, and she was just wet enough that when she screamed, it wasn't all in pain, nor any bad pain at all. It was delicious, and she begged for more, her words jumbled against Draco's lips and as muffled as her scream had been. Then those lips left hers as he slid down the front of her, one hand ripping off her soaked panties before his mouth was on her and Blaise was adding another finger, his teeth sinking into the flesh of her throat, and she was screaming again, uncaring of who heard as her world blew apart around her.
She had never known that such sweet, painful pleasure could possibly exist, and it didn't stop then, it didn't stop at all, but she didn't have the sentience or the will to examine how they could cause such extended, glorious rapture. Draco's nails raked down her inner thighs, Blaise drew pure blood with sharp teeth, and she shook and screamed and died right there in their embrace, knowing that nothing would ever be the same, no matter what happened. She had no idea how long she rode that blessed, maddening peak, had no idea how many times they brought her, had no idea when her throat had shrieked itself raw or when her vision had failed her.
All she knew was bliss.
End Flashback
And that feeling of bliss had never left her again, not even in the most horrible moments of her life, nor would it ever. They had only told her later that Pansy and Anton had been kind enough to cast silencing charms, not that it would have made the least bit of difference. Just thinking of those early days, those first few days of what she coined as 'the beginning of her true life', was enough to bring a smile to her face. A small ripple in the surface of the Pool alerted her to another's presence in the water, though she'd sensed them from the moment they'd entered. Not so much as a splash accompanied them, and she turned her head to gaze upon them.
Her children were beautiful, there was no denying that. They were twins, and both had her ruby-wine hair that curled in tight, spiraling ringlets, only one thing besides gender separating them. Corpus had the midnight blue eyes of Blaise, Cruoris the liquid silver of Draco. Both were lean and strong and eternally eighteen, and they were the pride of the Kingdom. They dove under the water at the far end, and since the Pool itself was huge, it took them a good minute to reach her, though they might have had an encounter with some creature that was just dying to touch them for a moment, and they usually let them as long as they didn't get too grabby.
Neither said anything when they saw the misty quality of her eyes, knowing that the Pool's power had a hold of her and she wouldn't make much sense if she tried to speak just then. So instead, both brushed lips over her pale cheeks before going to the side and up, scaling the pillars like a cat would climb a tree, drops of the sparkling ebony water dripping from robes that they hadn't bothered removing and that didn't hinder them at all. Once they were on the first landing and talking to one of the Dark Knights, Lee from what it looked like, her thoughts drifted again as something with sleek fur brushed against her side, and the stars faded.
Begin Flashback:
When she came back to awareness, she was in an empty classroom, lying on a desk transfigured into a divan, her whole body still tingling and vibrating. It was dark but for a single, dim ball of witchlight, and she appeared to be alone. But she wasn't, because she could see the cloaked figure in the corner that most would have missed, but she didn't feel alarm or fear, even though she'd been in a fight with the person not that long before. She knew who it was, the night whispering their name in her ear, and she had to stop herself from giggling. Everything seemed surreal, and she couldn't stop thinking about blood and sex.
"Well, you're up long before anyone else has ever risen after such a…treat." Pansy said, and Virginia could practically hear her smirking.
"Where did they go?" She questioned, not caring if the girl thought her presumptuous for asking, and Pansy lowered her hood, revealing that she was indeed smirking heavily. It also revealed that someone had healed her face, because only faint traces of bruises swept across her sharp cheekbones, looking a week old instead of an hour or two or three. Or four. Oh, who knew? Raising fingers to her own cheek, she found the scratches long healed, not even telltale ridges marking where they had been.
"Where do you think? You just had something very close to sex with them in the middle of a dungeon corridor with two Slytherin witnesses. Forgive them if they thought you might want a bit of time to absorb that. You're not one of us, after all."
"If you're referring to blood, I'm as pure as you. And I seriously doubt that they care about my sensibilities regarding the matter." Virginia returned just as sarcastically, and Pansy's lips twitched, as if she wanted to smile.
"I wasn't referring to your purity, and they don't. Well, they do, in a way perhaps, but they didn't think that you would care. Said you were different. But I took it upon myself to get them to fuck off until tomorrow."
"And why would you do that? You attacked me and now you're helping me?"
"I attacked you because Anton and I were patrolling the corridors, and all we saw was a little witch creeping around. If you hadn't fought back, we would have just scared you and let you go back up. There's no need for a suspicious…disappearance over something so silly."
"I saw you. You would have killed me."
"You hit Anton." She said, as if that explained everything, and Virginia vaguely remembered slamming her elbow into his face, though she hadn't known it was him at the time.
"Oh. Right."
Pansy nodded shortly. "You do know what you've gotten yourself into, don't you?" The question wasn't expected, and Virginia frowned.
"What do you mean?" She asked, and Pansy rolled her eyes.
"I'm not blind, you know. We can all see it in you, and if we can, they can. They'll never let you go now that they know for sure. That is, if you're sure."
Could she have been more confusing? Virginia's mind was still more than slightly scrambled from sensual overload, and Pansy was speaking in riddles. It was by far the longest conversation she'd ever had with the other girl, and she admired the thoughtless pride that she bore, the pride that made her sure enough of herself to understand the differences between them and not be insulted or defensive or angry about their earlier fight. It was a rare quality, because although many people possessed pride, it was a false, wishing pride, a pride that was weaker, more fragile. Pansy's was inborn, as much a part of her as her long, dark hair or her dainty, upturned nose.
"If I'm sure about what? And what are they sure about? I'm too weird right now for word games."
"That's understandable." Pansy replied, a knowing glint in her bronze eyes. "You'll be 'weird' for hours yet. And the rest is for them to tell you if they will. But, because I love them and want to see them content, I will say one thing, because I am sure of you and I am sure of them. I saw you earlier, and it is rare what you shared with them, a…connection of some sort. So know this, and if you ever speak a word of it, I will make you sorry to the best of my ability. I have known them since we were children, we have all known them most of our lives due to our parents' associations with one another, and I know, that for as long as I can remember, they have woken up with three words on their lips."
A chill shot down her spine. "What words?" Pansy's eyes closed for a brief moment, before opening and locking onto her, and Virginia felt the first stirrings of a different sort of connection with the other girl even as she waited with bated breath, not so much as blinking.
"'Vermilion and ash'."
She didn't remember going back to Gryffindor Tower after that, the long walk through the back passages a blank blur in her mind, which was spinning and spinning in so many different directions that she couldn't begin to straighten anything out. And as much as she wished to be with them right then, perhaps Pansy had been right in giving her some time. Not time for acceptance, no, because that was a given, but time to process all that had happened, considering how unbelievable most of it was. She only came back to semi-awareness when she heard the Fat Lady ask for the password in an offended tone, and she realized why the portrait was angry a moment later.
Pansy had come with her, and the Slytherin Prefect badge on her robe was very green and very silver and very, very not Gryffindor. And the Fat Lady had a small problem with despising every Slytherin that she saw after some second years had abducted her for three weeks over a month before. She wouldn't speak of what had happened, only saying that it was 'horrible and scarring' and that she would never recover, and a huge fuss had been made about the whole situation, which Virginia, Lee and the twins had found quite ridiculous. It was a fucking portrait, for the love of Merlin, just paint and canvas and attitude, but everyone acted like they'd slaughtered an infant.
Pansy simply sneered and gave the fat bitch the finger, which had her cheeks turning red as she puffed up a breath to shout, and Virginia finally got her wits about her enough to intervene. Thanking Pansy for walking her to the Tower, she murmured something like 'the masters' orders' in a mocking tone before she glided back down the hall and into the shadows. Virginia half-arsed apologized to the Fat Lady and crept inside the common room, up the stairs to the boys' dorms and into her brothers' room. They always kept the door open for her, and it was her unspoken responsibility to lock it when she came in. The shields snapped up with barely a thought.
She knew she wouldn't sleep a wink that night, and opted to stay in a chair by the window rather than wake the twins and Lee by crawling into bed, and she didn't feel like talking just then. She'd only ever been close to four people before, the twins, Lee and Tom, and losing Tom had been agonizing. Could she do it again, could she open herself up like that? Deciding that there was only one way to find out, she grabbed a cloak and George's broom before throwing open the window to the slightly chilly air of early October and swooping out of it. She went high up into the lower clouds above the castle, before heading towards the forest and a spot she knew well.
An old tree had been hit by lightning years ago, and the massive, hollow trunk still stood, enough room inside for four people to lie down comfortably, and she had found it the year after the Chamber was emptied and sealed off by Dumbledore. She went there often, when she wished to be alone with the night and the stars, and occasionally, like tonight, when she wished to pray alone, to call on the darkness alone. Landing on the crunching leaves softly, she paid no attention to the growls and howls echoing from other parts of the concealing forest, making her way into her tree with ease before wasting no time and sitting cross-legged on her cloak.
Calling darkness to her was simple, natural, and felt more like it poured out from somewhere inside of her rather than soaking into her like the twins and Lee and even Tom had described it. It seemed too much a part of her, as if there was an endless channel in her soul that was always open to it, and that was reinforced every time, when the feeling of the darkness and the night being one engulfed her, so she didn't question it. She had never, and would never, question it. Twisted black energy filled her to the brim and more, and slightly hysterical laughter spilled from her lips, her lungs, swirling and dancing in the air around her like shadowy silver mist.
Everything sped past her in a rush, everything from her conception to the present, and still she laughed, laughed and laughed and laughed, reveling in the sense of uncontrolled freedom and boundless power. She felt thick with it, thin with it, huge with it, small with it, and she craved more, always more. Once she was overflowing, once it seemed her skin would split open and she would spill out, she threw her question into that hallowed darkness as she had always thrown any question that she had no answer to, and waited for the answer to be thrown back. But she waited much longer than usual that night, so much more that she had almost given up.
But then it hit her like a weight, like a speeding train, and cut her laughter off short as she reeled from the reply. Then the laughter was back, the never-ending dark mirth, and she agreed without any hesitation. Springing to her feet and grabbing up the broom, she shot back into the air, going up and up until she broke through the trees before heading back to the castle. But she didn't go back through the window, she went to the bell tower, the highest point of the castle, landing on the top. The broom tumbled to the stones carelessly, bouncing against the low, stone wall at the edge, and she sat again, pondering the darkness's words.
'If they now sense you, then you have no other choice.'
The meaning was clear. If they had somehow tied themselves together during what they had just shared, if the two of them could now sense her through those ties, then she was far past lost or drowning, far past any sort of escape. Not that she wanted one. No, the frightening part was the possibility that they hadn't, that they wouldn't. So, how to test the concept? She could call to them mind-to-mind, which could prove it since they'd never had the formal psychic greeting that allowed that kind of contact regularly, but considering how strong they were, they might pick it up even without those bonds or that greeting, which would prove nothing.
Or…or she could jump, which is what had brought her to this high campanile in the first place. But the more she thought of it, the less appealing it seemed. Because, really, she couldn't expect them to make it from the dungeons to the tallest point of the castle before she would hit the ground, even if she opened her mental shields a good minute before she flung herself off. Sighing, she propped her chin in one hand and watched the stars, her true fear rolling around in her mind. Gods, if they didn't sense her or just didn't come anyway, then she wanted to die. That brought a thought to her mind, a familiar one.
She had spent long hours pondering the best way to kill herself, because she had swore to herself long ago that if she hit eighteen and the world was still as dull and lifeless as always, then she would leave a grisly scene behind her for her family to find, to mourn. The twins had made her promise that she would do it with them and let them come with her wherever they ended up afterwards, and she had agreed. But they couldn't help her with this; they couldn't share in this one aspect of her life. So she picked a milder version of one of her favorites, and the skin of her wrists was like butter under her blade, soft and warm and creamy white.
All of her shields fell as wonder rushed in.
It wasn't white for long as scarlet gashes spread open like petals unfurling, silvery crimson blood began to stream from the wounds, hitting the stone beneath her with wet plops, the heavy drops seeming to fall so slowly to her entranced eyes. She had never allowed herself to cut so deeply before, and it gave her thrill that made her heart beat faster and her breath catch in her throat. She watched her nearing death as the granite all around her became slick with her blood, as her robe and skirt became soaked with it, as it sped down the grooves in the stone to flow out of the cracks in the low wall, trickling down the sides like vermilion vines.
Vermilion, she thought dazedly, her giggles starting anew as she started to get light-headed. I've never heard anyone use that word to describe it before, but I like it. So unique…like them. And she also liked the hazy blackness starting to eat at her thoughts and vision, she liked the suffocating weight of her imminent demise like a new adventure beckoning in the back of her soul, she liked the feeling of pressing oblivion. And she liked, no, loved, the sight of her blood spilling from her, the feeling of it sliding down her skin, the stinging pain of the cuts themselves…And she knew that if she lived, she would be doing it again and again and again…
But it didn't look as if she was going to make it more than another couple of minutes, tops, because she was still alone on the tower, alone but for the night, which was screaming at her to stop such foolishness. But its voice, for once, was distant and garbled, and she felt herself start swaying even as she kept laughing, her voice dying out and making it quiet, eerie, real. She resisted its attempts to heal her, because she'd been serious when she'd said that she would rather die than live with their rejection. Deathly serious. In the span of a few hours, they had become everything. No, she told herself, not hours. Years. Forever.
And to her, it all made perfect sense.
"What the fuck are you doing?" A furious voice seemed to sound from far away, so far away, and she found the breath to laugh even more, because she recognized that voice even as she knew that it was much too late. Then she crumpled and strong arms caught her, though she wasn't truly aware of it except in a strange, fuzzy way.
"Goddamn it!" There was that voice again, in front of her, while the other was behind her and laying her down with quick, efficient hands. Then two more hands were on her, and the voice spoke again. "Are you fucking mad?"
'Who knows?' She wanted to say, but she couldn't so much as gasp anymore, everything seeming to be failing more and more rapidly. 'Who really knows? Or cares? You came!' And to her stupefied disbelief, they answered together, their voices as rich in her mind as they usually were to her ears.
''You came'!' They mocked, their hands wrapping around her wrists as…something began transferring from their fingers into her flesh, some dark, strange power that had her purring weakly. 'Do you have to be dense while you're fucking bleeding to death? And this was just brilliant, Virginia, truly brilliant.'
'Well, do you have to be sarcastic while I'm bleeding to death?' She shot back, and it didn't seem as hard to think as it had a moment ago. In fact, her vision was clearing, and she could breathe normally again. But how? She knew that she'd lost much too much blood, even for the best of healers.
'Yes. Now, would you care to explain why you suddenly projected your will to die and then we come to find you in a pool of blood? Did what happened upset you that much? Maybe Pansy was right.'
She had a feeling that that last comment hadn't been directed at her, and she waited to respond to the others for a bit, because the healing energy suddenly became quite pleasurable, and she couldn't think straight again. It finally passed, leaving her panting, and she opened her eyes to see them fully for the first time since they'd arrived on the tower. Both wore robes and heavy, hooded cloaks that were drawn over their faces, their full, curving lips and slightly glowing eyes the only features that she could see, and there were no broomsticks to be found besides her brother's, which made her wonder how they'd gotten up.
"It didn't upset me." Her voice seemed loud in the silent stillness of that moment, even though she'd barely spoken above a whisper. Dipping a finger into the not-quite-cool blood that surrounded all three, she held it up to the shifting moonlight. "Don't you find it fascinating?"
"Your blood?" They asked, looking slightly amused and slightly hungry, and she nodded.
"Oh, yes. And yours, too. It has so many properties, so many layers. Mine burns like fire through me, but I suspect yours would be cold, even as it still flows through your veins."
"Would you like a taste?" They crooned, leaning forward on their hands, not in the least minding the red liquid that swallowed their fingers and stained their robes. Something in the way they voiced that question made her examine it farther, even though it was extremely difficult to focus on anything but their nearness.
"What would it do to me?"
They laughed, velvety and libidinous, and her fate was sealed.
End Flashback
Sealed, indeed, she thought with a shiver. She was as lost in them now as she had been then, and the only thing that had changed was that she was no longer alone when her blood ran freely, and she was usually being fucked senseless as it flowed like a living river. And only two were given that privilege, for no others were allowed to so much as scratch her without that action being their very last. The lower Royals and the Dark Knights were an exception, but only if she demanded it. But truly, though the sex was fabulous, it just wasn't the same. That night on the tower, fucking in the pool of her blood that hadn't seemed to dry and that streaked across fair skin so appealingly, had made sure of that.
Something surfaced beside her, and she turned to face whatever it was, her eyes meeting those of what could only be labeled a monster, even to her wide-open mind. It was furry and a burnt-orange color, with too many limbs and eyes that seemed to sprout from everywhere, and its face (if you could call that a face) was warped and distorted and all mixed up, as if a child had taken a bunch of parts from different things and stuck them all on a giant, fuzzy pear. It looked at her with miserable intelligence, and held one of those flipper-arm…things out to her in a wordless plead for just a small brush of skin on skin to tide it over until it came back to beg again.
Nothing had changed and everything had changed.
Begin Flashback:
She didn't go back to her brothers' room that night, instead following them down to Slytherin right before the sun started rising, and no one in the common room questioned her presence until they were already in Draco and Blaise's set of rooms, the portrait shutting on their inquisitive, unbelieving whispers. Pansy, Anton, Melody and Theodore had all been sound asleep on a huge black bed off to the left in a dark room that shone with floating candlelight, but Anton woke as soon as they entered, a ring on his hand flashing briefly. To his credit, his eyes widened only fractionally at the sight that they made.
"Will you be bringing bloody, vicious little Weasleys in with you often, then?" He asked flippantly, stretching and rising to his knees, throwing the silk and furs off of him before crawling over Theodore, who didn't so much as flinch, and sliding off the bed soundlessly.
He was nude and seemingly unaware of it, and she couldn't help but admire the care with which he had been created. Not all Slytherins were beautiful without magic, but the ones that were, like Anton and the two next to her and those on the bed, were more beautiful than should be allowed, the age and greatness of their bloodlines evident in every curve and angle and positioning. And as she let her eyes roam to his, she felt the start of yet another newfound connection, and knew that Draco and Blaise felt it too by the smirks on their faces and the pleased glimmer in their eyes. Anton was also aware of it, and he glanced at them before looking back at her and giving a slight bow.
"So be it." He said before his gaze met hers once more, and she was laughing again, because for some odd reason, she felt as if she were surrounded by family for the first time in her life. The only things missing were the twins and Lee, but she would rectify that soon enough. Melody made some small noise, a sigh or a light moan, and her attention returned to the bed, curiosity drawing a question from her.
"Why do they sleep so deeply?"
"Spice." Anton said simply, before scooping up a robe and throwing it on carelessly. "They'll wake in a bit, in time for breakfast if I can rouse them without the usual fuss and complaining."
"And are you not tired as well?" She asked, watching his eyes flicker to Draco and Blaise again before he responded.
"I have a higher…tolerance. For the after effects, at least."
"Why?"
Another eye-flick. "It's all in the blood." He finally intoned quietly, but he didn't get to say more as the portrait flew open, Parvati Patil and Neville Longbottom, of all fucking people, storming inside and arguing loudly.
"You're wrong!" Neville was saying loudly, his voice different than she'd ever heard it before, stronger and much more sure of itself than usual, and Parvati shook her head, meranti hair flying.
"I am not! You can't store unicorn tears and goblin blood in that, let alone—oh."
"'Oh'?" Neville repeated incredulously. "'Oh', what?"
"Oh my sweet fucking gods." Parvati finished, her eyes glued to Virginia, and his followed hers, widening impossibly as he turned a slight green color and looked like he was going to faint.
"Shit." Spoken softly, she barely heard it, then louder, "Shit, shit, shit." It was probably the first time that she'd heard Neville swear, ever, and she couldn't help but stare. She was just about as shocked as he was. "I can explain, Ginny…"
"I don't think there's any need for that." She said, feeling like she surely had to be dreaming, except even her dreams never got this weird.
Neville in Slytherin House? Still breathing and in one piece? Yeah fucking right. But there he was all the same, something that looked an awful lot like a jar of black blood in one hand, the other full of something meaty and unidentifiable that was dripping juices and something…else through his fingers and onto the marble floor. Blaise and Draco both looked unaffected, as if they were used to such strange occurrences and having their rooms so heavily occupied, and they didn't even seem to notice who was standing there, so she supposed that was 'normal' as well. She still couldn't get over the obvious though. Neville in Slytherin!
"Actually, go ahead and explain." She said, changing her mind. "I'm just curious enough to listen to this." He paled, and she wondered when he would realize that, hello, she was in Slytherin too.
Parvati already had, she could tell by the dawning realization in the girl's eyes as they traveled over their crimson-flaked forms and sticky, blood-streaked hair, but Neville was back to being the stuttering, clumsy fool that she was familiar with, his earlier heated arrogance gone in the face of discovery, as he saw it. She could read his mind like a book if she wished, but him trying to put it into words himself should prove to be much more interesting. Laying her head on Draco's shoulder when he moved closer to her, she watched Blaise disappear with Anton through an archway to the right before she turned her eyes back on Neville, who started to speak.
"T-They offered me power, Ginny, real power and not…not shit that I don't understand. Parvati br-brought me to them, and for a price, I got a taste of old blood and d-darkness, and I'm so much better now, so much quicker and st-stronger, as if they woke something up inside me that I didn't even know was there." Then he seemed to lose all pride in the face of what he thought to be a coming loss, and he begged quite pathetically. "Please don't tell, please, it's all I have, without it I'm back to falling over my own feet and fucking up every spell I come across. Please, Ginny, please don't tell."
She turned to look at Draco slowly. "You seriously took him in?" She asked, cocking a cynical eyebrow.
"For a price."
"What price?"
"His first two children by a witch of our choosing."
She didn't know whether to gape or laugh, eventually settling on the latter. "Oh gods, Neville, you swore away your children?" She gasped out between giggles, and he blushed. Looking at Draco again, she voiced her opinion. "You wanted his bloodline, yes?"
"The Longbottoms are old, and someone has to preserve the purity or it will fade, generation by generation, until the Old Ways are forgotten and the magic of our people gone. And honestly, it was quite nauseating to see a pureblood behave as he did, and is now." The last was said with a potent silver glare in Neville's direction, and the boy cringed, backing up into Parvati. "We'd gotten past this cowardly bullshit a while ago, but your mere appearance seems to have set us back over a year. What joy."
Neville was then dismissed with a disgusted wave of Draco's hand, and Parvati gave her a timid, uncertain smile as she followed him out. Still slightly shell-shocked, she couldn't help but see the evident humor in the situation as she got cleaned up and changed into the robes that Blaise and Anton reappeared with, already dressed themselves. Her bloody clothes were taken by a diligent little elf that she was assured wouldn't speak a word, and Pansy, Melody and Theodore were woken after a frustrated Anton finally resorted to Ennervating spells. Almost late for breakfast, she gave a hurried 'goodbye' before rushing out through another secret passage.
Neville and Parvati came with her, having been waiting outside the door, and Neville seemed to have gained a somewhat healthy pallor back to his skin, his hands no longer shaking. That slightly dignified air was back, as if he was only just realizing and understanding what and who he was, but as they stepped over the threshold into the Great Hall, she watched him purposefully slump a little and don a befuddled expression, and she tried not to start laughing again. Her eyes sweeping over the Hall shortly, her own glamours as firmly in place as always, she caught bits and dribbles of the thoughts of her peers, not caring enough to look any deeper.
It was a talent that had always come naturally, a gift of the night, and the only people that she couldn't instantly read were the Slytherins and a few other scattered purebloods that were trained in mental shielding. But if she wanted, she knew she could break through those invisible wards and eat their knowledge for herself. The only ones that she knew she couldn't do that with were her new lovers, their shielding much too dark and strong, but that was fine with her. With them, she wanted those barriers lowered willingly, as they had been only hours before on that tower. In fact, she just wanted to be with them, period. In any way, shape or form.
And speaking of the devil, they were coming through the doors, a dozen or so other Slytherins flanking them, and she felt her body grow tight just watching them walk to their table. She endured almost ten whole minutes of just watching them, before her control snapped and she rose from her place at the Gryffindor table beside the twins and Lee, who had already been looking at her strangely to begin with. What she did next didn't help those looks, but she was out of the hall before they could catch her and comment. Heading for the side door, which was conveniently by the Slytherin table, she walked up its length, feeling eyes on her from all over the hall.
Ignoring them and walking purposefully for the door, she was at the center of the table where the older students held court when she accidentally tripped, her wand, which had been returned to her by Pansy the night before, falling from her pocket and rolling under Draco's feet. Looking up innocently, she could see the sixth and seventh years trying not to smirk, and demurely asked for her wand. With a mocking sneer, he kicked it to her with the toe of one expensive boot, and she grabbed it, giving him a meaningful look before getting back to her feet and walking away as if nothing had happened, not so much as a flicker of the dark heat inside her reflecting on her face.
Exiting the Hall and turning the first corner, she waited, and five minutes later, Draco and Blaise glided out, robes billowing behind them and their own faces set in neutral masks. They didn't even make it back to the dungeons, the first empty room they came to having the lock broken and the door warded behind them, clothes being reduced to shreds that they would be spelling back together later. Hours slipped by unnoticed as they showed her exactly what dark magic could do during sex, as they showed her just how much pleasure could be gained from pain, and she lost what was left of her soul to them then, just as they lost what was left of theirs.
Three became one, and they hadn't separated since.
End Flashback
'SPLASH!'
A long, silent pause, and then—
"Corpus!" Cruoris's indignant shout echoed through the chamber when he surfaced.
Virginia slowly turned to look at him, her head still spinning with image after image, and she saw him glaring up, presumably at his sister, whose tinkling laughter could be heard from high in the top levels of the room. His aggrieved state wasn't helped by low, silky laughter joining it from off to the side, the objects of Virginia's undying affection melting out of the shadows at the Pool's edge. A second later, someone's head hit the water, followed by a limp body, and Cruoris groaned, mumbling something like, 'That was my favorite slave, you fucking bitch,' before sinking back under the surface, much to Draco and Blaise's amusement, not to mention Corpus's.
Virginia smiled.
Cruoris must have really annoyed Corpus this time, because that was the third slave this week. The first had been found staked above a statue of Cruoris in Veneficus, the fifth city, and the second on the cooking rack down in Umbra's kitchens (which had provoked the head chef into a four-hour rant on sanitization and the importance of labels). Not that it really mattered that they had died, since the bloody things seemed to breed like rabbits anyway. Weak, mindless, powerless rabbits that were only good for servitude, entertainment and food. So really, it was just a matter of thinning out the herd, nothing more.
Her children were just so adorable sometimes, especially when they were arguing.
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The second part of this chapter will be out shortly (I hope), but not if you wonderfulbeautifulspectacular people don't review! (Can you tell I'm sucking up?) So…REVIEW!!!!