Finally! It's here! Chapter Eight!!! WHOOOOH!!! Oh, why was it so late? Well… hehe… it's a long story involving Fruits Basket, hurricane evacuations, writer's block, and lazy bums. You don't really wanna hear it, do you? Didn't think so.

Disclaimer: I own nothing! Do you hear me? NOTHING! I have no home; I live on a bike! So don't ask me if I own Harry Potter, because I DON'T! Why do the fates curse me so?!?! :runs off sobbing:

A Note On the Posting Schedule: As I'm sure you've gathered, posting twice a week just won't work anymore. I'm going for once a week now, but I won't make any promises. Bare with me, I am trying.

Well, second year is officially on! I really hope you guys enjoy this chapter! It is the product of my sweat and blood (and much printing ink). And, you'll be delighted to know, it is longer than my usual chapters. A kind of "please forgive me" present. HAPPY READING!


Sunday, June 21: In Route to Malfoy Mansion

I'm disappointed. I mean, it's not like I expected some kind of tearful reunion, in which long buried love was showered upon me like so much sunshine, but come on! They could have at least been a little pleased to see me! But no. When I stepped onto Platform 9 ¾, what did I find awaiting me? Dobby, our house elf, that's who.

That's right. My parents sent a house elf to fetch me. Like I'm baggage or something! The minute I saw him standing there, I set out to find the reason for my parents' terrible rudeness.

Me: Dobby! What are you doing here?

Dobby: Dobby is here to pick up Master Draco, sir. Dobby is- Dobby is SORRY!

Me: Sure you are, Dobby. Sure you are. Look, would you just tell me where my parents are?

Dobby: Master Malfoy is in a meeting. Master Malfoy-

Me: And you didn't stop him?!

Dobby: OH! DOBBY IS SOOOORRRRRYYYYY!!!! DOBBY IS-

Me: Shut up, Dobby.

House elves are so annoying. Really, could they be any stupider? I think not. Anyway, I had Dobby, who looked as if he might try to shut his ears in something at any moment, grab my trunks. Then, picking up my bag, I decided to make my way to where I knew our carriage would be waiting for me. Dobby had dressed himself in badly fitting muggle clothing (gods only know where and how he got them) with some kind of hat hiding his ears. He looked rather ridiculous, I must say.

Then the strangest thing happened. As we walked out, I noticed that there was a girl following us, staring at my house elf. She followed us out of the train station, so I turned to see what in the world she was looking at.

"Can I help you?" I said, in what I think to be a rather threatening voice.

She blinked at me for a moment then pointed to Dobby.

"Did you know that you have a circus midget carrying your bags?"

"What?"

"Your house elf," she giggled. "He looks like a circus midget."

Now, I have no idea what a "circus" is and I'm a little fuzzy on the term "midget", but I had the feeling that it wasn't going to do me an inch of good to find out. So I turned and left. Unfortunately, she followed me.

"You're from Hogwarts, right? Is it fun? Who's your favorite teacher? What house are you in? Do you know Harry Potter?"

"Of course, marginally, Snape, Slytherin, and yes, the bloody git," I answered, feeling that surely she would go away now.

She didn't. I turned to have a good look at her, feeling quite frustrated. She was very short, about a head less than me, and dressed in muggle clothes that obviously belonged to a boy in their previous life. They were much too large on her; the shirt kept slipping down over her shoulders and she had rolled the baggy jeans up so far that they looked like a huge knot on top of her shoes. She had an enormous sprinkle of freckles everywhere. Besides that, her hair was so red as to only be rivaled by Weasley's and was pulled up into pigtails, which I'm sure were supposed to be cute but really just seemed to be screaming, "I'm a girl! I'm a GIRL! REALLY!"

Girl: Oh. You know, I'll be at Hogwarts this year.

Me: Isn't that fabulous for you.

Girl: Sure is! I think I'll be Gryffindor, since all my brothers have been.

Me: Couldn't guess by looking at you.

Girl: Well, maybe. But, really, if looks were everything, you probably wouldn't be a Slytherin.

Me: Oh?

Girl: Yup. You look more like a Ravenclaw or maybe a Hufflepuff.

Me: Oh.

Girl: looking over at Dobby You know, you shouldn't make him carry all of those bags.

Me: I'm not making him carry all of them. I have a bag, see?

Girl: How very helpful of you, carrying one bag while he has to carry seven trunks. You shouldn't even be allowed to carry this much stuff. How did you ever sneak them in? Well, never mind.

Then she went right over and took two of the trunks from Dobby. Now, I was slighted. Here I was, carrying my own bag and she acts like I'm being horrible! Really! Anyway, this girl just picked one trunk up and put it under her arm and dragged the other behind her. It was very amusing to watch, as the trunks were both half her size.

Girl: (sounding rather strained) Where's your ride?

I pointed at the carriage, which was hovering just over the ground a few yards away, waiting for me. She just stood there, staring with her mouth open and looking rather like a fish without any water. Now, it's quite true that our carriage is something to be proud of; it's been in the Malfoy family for centuries. It's our trademark color, silver, and flies so quickly that you wouldn't even know it passed you, except for the gust of wind that hits you several seconds later. Plus, it's drawn by silver-blue dragons that look like snakes with purple wings and glowing purple eyes. We are the only people in all of Europe to own this breed, you know! Only the best for a Malfoy, my father always says.

"Th- That's yourcarriage?"

"Yes," I said. "Where's yours?"

"Umm… well, we… usually… I mean, we don't…"

Then I understood. Of course. It explained the clothes and everything, after all.

"Oh, I get it! You're poor!"

She stared at me.

"You're not big on tact are you?"

At that moment I heard a familiar voice behind me.

"Draco, ready to go?"

The girl started gaping again. This time, she was staring at our carriage driver. I suppose, if you're not used to dealing with strange people on a daily basis, Madam could be rather interesting. She is a perfect match for the dragons, you know; she has light blue skin, purple eyes, and long, flowing purple hair. She even looks rather oriental around the eyes. People tend to stare at her a lot, mostly because of her bare feet and flowing, sheer dresses, not her skin.

"Hello," said Madam, looking the girl over. "A friend of yours Draco?"

"Err, no, she's--"

Then, bowing in that way the Asian have, she introduced herself.

"I am Feng Po-Po. Madam Wind, if you would prefer, though Madam is fine."

The girl looked startled and gave a rather awkward bow back.

"Oh, yeah! I'm… uhh… I'm Ginevra."

You know, she really doesn't look like a "Ginevra". She looks like a Sarah or a Mary or something common like that. Whatever. Not my call. Anyway, after introducing herself, Madam proceeded to prod me into the carriage, telling me that I was already running late. I wasn't even aware that I was on a schedule.

"Well, see you," said the girl, Ginevra, as I climbed in. "We'll meet again at Hogwarts!"

"If we must," I said, sighing loudly so that she could hear me.

Why is it that everyone who I want to like me ends up hating me and the one person who I've tried to be rid of thinks we're great buddies? I'm sure I was quite clear about how annoying she was. What is Ginevra's problem, anyway?

Well, I can see the Mansion in the distance. Time to find out just why my parents didn't feel the need to meet me. They had better have a good excuse, let me tell you.

Later Sunday: Malfoy Mansion, My Room

Well, at least I know why they didn't come. They were too busy convincing my tutor to come back and teach me over the summer. Oh, for god's sakes! I was a few marks below Hermione Granger and they're treating me like I'm stupid!

I wouldn't mind so much if they hadn't gotten my childhood tutor, Monsieur Tyran(1), who has been my only teacher since I was old enough to hold a quill. I thought I had finally escaped! You see, Monsieur Tyran is a little over six feet tall, so thin that he practically disappears when he turns to the side, and really pointy. Maybe that's an odd description but, really, that's what he is. His beak nose sticks straight out from his face and his fingers come to razor-sharp points. He has these beady little black eyes that dart around constantly and always carries this long, thin birch rod with him that he used to hit me with when I was little. I'm not sure if he can actually use it on my anymore, legally, but it's still rather intimidating.

So, here I was, looking forward to a nice relaxing summer and what does my mum say to me first? Not "How was your year?" not "I'm so glad you're home!" but instead the most dreaded words known to man.

"Oh, Draco! I have good news! Would you believe that Monsieur Tyran is going to tutor you this summer?"

How is that good news, woman? HOW? What world do you LIVE in? Oh, gods. Please, I beg of you, save me from this hell. Relieve me of this horrible life. Strike me down with a lightening bolt! I cannot live another DAY!

Still Sunday: Malfoy Mansion, North Wing Drawing Room

I knew this was coming. Father called me in after supper to "discuss my grades". It went exactly how you might expect it would. He was freakishly calm as he asked me why they were "so atrocious". I explained all about Granger and favorites. I went off into a tirade about Potter somewhere along the line, but I managed to steer the conversation back to my grades most skillfully. After I finished, he sat there for a moment with his eyes closed.

"That is no excuse," he said, coldly. "I slave and slave to build up our reputation and no son of mine is going to ruin it because of his selfishness!"

And then he ranted on and on about my disgracing the Malfoy name for about an hour and a half. I pretty much tuned him out after, "… I have never been so ashamed in all my life! Your mother cried herself to sleep! When my coworkers hear about this…" Anyway, so there's the reasoning behind Monsieur Tyran.

You know, my marks weren't even that bad. He's just mad because Granger, a mudblood and a woman, beat me. I hate her so much.

Monday, June 22: Malfoy Mansion, Dining Hall

My first lesson with Monsieur Tyran this summer is going rather terribly. Did I mention that he only lets me speak French around him? He says that English is crude and violent on the ears. Riiight. He despairs of me, by the way.

"C'est terrible! Terrible!" He says. "Tu es un garcon stupide! Un idiot!"(2)

I don't know if there is anything more insulting than being degraded in a foreign language.

He keeps hissing that I'm not trying hard enough and that I obviously don't want to learn (which is true and he knows it). Even when I get all of the answers right, he says I'm still not doing well enough. Now, I'm not quite sure how I can do any better than the best score, but when I told him that… well, it wasn't pretty.

I seriously think he has some issues buried deep within him somewhere that he is taking out on me. I wonder whether his father loved him? I think I shall ask him someday. Then again, he is twisting that birch rod rather menacingly, so maybe not. Even though I still don't think he can legally hit me.

My lunch break is over now. Of to hell! Or, I should say, enfer(3)!

Still Monday: The West Wing (My Rooms)

Okay, so he is allowed to hit me. Ow. My arms have little red welts all over them. I seriously think this is against my rights. All I did was ask him how his romantic life was going, as he seemed a bit stressed. Obviously it's not going very well, as that was what broke him. That and the fact that I accidentally set his desk on fire with my channeling candles, but that could have happened to anyone.

I wonder if I would get grounded for having my tutor arrested for child abuse.

Friday, June 26: The West Wing Library

I'm getting rather tired of this whole tutoring thing. It is beginning to grate upon my nerves. Today I got in trouble for licking my quill. I had to walk on my knees across the stone courtyard repeating, "I will not defame the glorious name of my family and tutor," for five hours, as if I were doing penance in the Middle Ages. This is beginning to seem unbearable.

You know what? I think I know the real reason Monsieur Tyran doesn't like to speak English. It's because he hasn't quite grasped the language and, like several French people that I know, keeps forgetting the last syllables of words. "Breakfast" is "brek" and "tutor" is "toot". I almost died when he told my father that, "The Malfoys 'ave good ass," this morning. Mother elbowed me in the side, which really hurt (so rude) and I got in trouble again. But, I mean, come on! How can they blame me?

Well, the Malfoy family reunion is coming up, so I'll get a break. Only… it just occurred to me that listening to my Uncle Ramputin chat about torturing muggles in the good old days isn't exactly a break. In fact, it might be just as bad as tutoring! How do you make small talk about blood sacrifices? I'd like to know.

Monday, June 29: My Bedroom

The creepiest thing happened to me today, as I was walking down the hallway on my way back from tutoring.

"Oh," I thought to myself. "Dieu merci pour petit miracles! La reunion es presque-"(4)

And then I realized something. I was thinking in French! Oh my god! This isn't the only time something like this has happened either! I started writing a letter to Pansy the other day and was halfway through before I realized I wasn't writing in English. I keep telling the house elves to "Alles!"(5). Do you know what this means?! It means that Monsieur Tyran is turning me into a MONSTER!!!

Unfortunately, my parents are unsympathetic to my plight. Curse them.

Friday, July 2: Dining Hall

Oh, thank the gods. We're leaving for the reunion in a few hours, so I had to say "adieu"(6) to Monsieur Tyran. It was heartrending, truly it was. But, yes, we'll swing by Chateau Renaud and pick up Great-Aunt Adeline on the way. Adeline isn't a Malfoy; she's my (deceased) grandmother's sister, but we take her along to the Malfoy reunions anyway. The relatives like to sit her on top of the grand piano and throw breadcrumbs at her. You've got to love family traditions.

Better pack a jacket. Castle Malfoy is somewhere on the other side of the world. Apparently it is criminally cold there. Yeah, that'll make my day.

Saturday, July 3: Castle Malfoy, Front Steps

Well, we've been here for about half a day now and I have come to the conclusion that I have some strange relatives. I knew it would be bad, of course, when my father grabbed me roughly by the elbow on the way in and whispered, "Insult no one, Draco, and I will buy you a racing broom."

Now, I'm as happy as anyone to get a new present, but this does mean I can't make any sarcastic comments. It's been right tempting at times. For example, here is an excerpt from a conversation between my Aunt Lydia and my Great-Aunt Matilde. They were talking about the latest fashion crazes and Matilde decided to add these little pearls of wisdom.

"Well, that may be the style in Paris but there are very different ideas. For example, they are working on bringing back the flowing look in Cantalia, and in Genoa, 'tis now the fashion to pin a live frog to the shoulder-braid, stand on a bucket, and go 'Bibble' at passers-by."

And, you know, that's not the strangest thing that's happened. Grandmother Malfoy tried to feed me mermaid flesh ("It's good for you!") and my cousin, Vladimir, gave me a lesson in castrating the enemy. Uncle Ramputin was, in fact, discussing muggle torture and how fun it was to squeeze the eyeball of a living person between your fingers. Somehow, though, he got talking about his war stories. And dear god does he have some stories.

Tried to escape by ducking out into the courtyard but before long I heard, "I was then taken and hung by the larger of my two testicles from the Wall of the Bastille. It was at this stage I decided I'd had enough."

Before I even had the chance to run, Uncle Ramputin, my father, and some other relatives had roped me into coming on their carriage ride with them. So here I am, waiting for my cruel captor to drag me into a small, closed space with people who, I swear, I'm not related to. When will it end? Have I not suffered enough?

Later Saturday: Ball Room

Well, that wasn't so bad. We walked along the streets of a nearby village and watched Uncle Ramputin throw hexes at the muggle pedestrians. It was terribly amusing. Then we decided to head down to the wizarding part of town because Father complained that the muggle stench was suffocating. We never made it though, as the best part of the whole trip presented itself when a beggar latched onto my father's boot.

"Poor Tom is cold," he said. "Pity poor Tom, for his nose is frozen, and he doth shiver, and… is maaaddddd!!!!!"

"Oh, shut up," said Father.

He tried to walk off but Tom the Beggar wouldn't let go of his leg. Father dragged him for a couple of feet and then tried hitting him with his walking stick.

"Poor Tom! Poor Tom!" Shouted the beggar.

"Let go!" Father shouted back, looking annoyed.

"PIIIIIIITY POOOOOR TOOOOM!!!"

"NO!!!"

"YEEEEEEEEEES!!!"

"NO! NO! NO!"

Father tried prying him off with his other foot then. By now we were all laughing so hard we couldn't breath.

"POOR TOM IS MAAAAAAD!!!" Said the beggar.

"I CAN SEE THAT!" Said my father.

Needless to say, this went on for a while. Eventually my father's boot came off and Tom the Beggar picked it up and ran away, laughing maniacally. Father stomped back to the carriage wearing only one shoe and saying all sorts of words I'm not supposed to know under his breath. And so ended our little field trip.

Sunday, July 4: Madam's Carriage

Finally, we're leaving! If I had had to eat another bite of mermaid, I swear I would have exploded. I'll tell you what, that racing broom had better be top notch because I couldn't even comment on my Great-Aunt Martha's reenactment of her son's birth. Do you KNOW how hard that was?!

Well, we're on the way back to Chateau Renaud with Adeline in tow. We'll be staying there for a few days and then I'll have to go back to tutoring. Blech.

You know, it's funny. I had thought it was just my imagination but now that I'm away from it all I'm pretty sure I'm not making it up. All summer I've had this weird feeling in my chest, like something's pulling on it. Not hard or anything, but it just feels like a kind of tugging sensation right over my heart. I tried to ignore it at first but it seems like it's just getting stronger. The only person I've mentioned it to is Pansy and she told me that it was probably just a tapeworm. She said that's why she doesn't eat sushi.

Pansy isn't the most sympathetic person in the world, I've noticed.

Tuesday, July 6: Chateau Renaud, The East Wing (Guest Rooms)

Great-Aunt Adeline woke me up at three in the morning last night. I heard something creaking in the hallway and so I peeked out my door. She was wandering around, looking rather like she was sleepwalking, in her white nightgown.

"Umm… Aunt Adeline?"

She turned her head to the side, looking as distant as always.

"Oh, Sherisse. Good morning."

"Morning, Auntie. Did you need something?"

I'm rather used to Adeline's oddities. She's been like this ever since I can remember. I think she lost her mind early on, that she isn't just senile, but nobody likes to talk about it. Whenever I ask about it, they sigh and say, "Adie's just like that," and nothing else. Oh, well. What's done is done and doesn't matter, as Mother always says.

"I was looking for Tom," she said dreamily.

Who told Adeline about Tom the Beggar? I could wring their neck! Now she'll go on and on about it for years, like when I told her about my cat, Sabine, when I was little.

"Tom's back with Grandmother Malfoy, Auntie. Why don't you go back to bed?"

"But Sherisse, I'm late. I've got to go find Tom. I'm late."

Finally I convinced her to follow me back to her rooms. She settled down in her huge bed and then looked at me. It never ceases to amaze me, how vacant her eyes are. I think that once she must have been very beautiful. It's actually very sad.

"Oh," I remembered. "I have something for you."

I pulled the cord that I wear around my neck out of my color. I've been wearing Forrest's money along with her ring since summer started. I tried to give the ring back to her, but she pulled her hand away and shook her head.

"But Auntie, it's yours. I don't need it."

"You do need it, Draco. The fire's burning inside, don't you see? It's yours. It says it's yours."

I had to agree. She was rambling again and there's just no winning when she's like that. Finally, I decided to go back to bed.

"Sherisse," she called after me. "Say hello to Sabine for me!"

"I will, Aunt Adeline."

Only Sabine died six years ago. We're leaving for home in a few hours. I can't say I mind. Chateau Renaud always gives me the creeps.

Wednesday, July 7: Malfoy Mansion, West Wing Drawing Room

I'm in trouble again. Well, it was worth it. I really wasn't in the mood to deal with Monsieur Tyran today. As it turns out, I was supposed to have been doing homework over my short little holiday. Whoops, silly me. Anyway, he was livid. The lecture lasted forever and, of course, was terribly boring.

"Well," hissed the deranged Frenchman. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

Now, I felt the need to say a great many things but, finally, realized that one word would say it all. I looked him straight in the face and uttered my glorious declaration in as insolent a voice as I could muster.

"Bibble."

Friday, July 16: Dining Hall

Oh, this ought to be good. Guess who's coming for dinner tonight? Pansy, of course. And why will this be interesting? Well, you see, Monsieur Tyran is staying over as well. Will they get along? Doubtful.

Pansy has promised to behave, but forgive me for not being immediately convinced. This is Pansy Parkinson, after all. She's just like that. I mean, I love her, but she is. Why do I have the feeling this night will be the death of me?

Later Friday: My Rooms

Actually, I'm impressed. Pansy tried to behave, she really did. If only Father had had the foresight to not sit her by Monsieur Tyran, the night would have gone without a hitch. Unfortunately no one had that thought. Pansy tried to be good and for about half of the night she succeeded. That is, until Monsieur Tyran turned to her and said, in his best imitation of English.

"S'il te-plait(7), ma chere(8), pass the butt."

Pansy, who had just taken a sip from her glass, immediately spewed water all over him. Then, because she's Pansy and has never heard of tact, she just started laughing. And they weren't little lady-like giggles either. They were full blown guffaws.

"Oh- my- GOD!" She said in between laughs. "Pass- pass the- BUTT!"

She snorted and toppled out of her chair.

"Umm…" said Monsieur Tyran.

"AHAHAHAHAHAH!!!! BUTT!!!!!"

My parents just sat there, staring, as Pansy had an epileptic fit on the floor of our dining hall. The house elves stopped to stare. I had to stuff my napkin in my mouth to keep from laughing as well.

"AHAHAH… HAH… hah… butt… heh," chuckled Pansy, as she climbed back into her chair.

She smoothed out her skirt, then calmly reached over and handed Monsieur Tyran the butter. You've just got to love Pansy, no?


There you go! I must say, I'm quite proud of this chapter. I guess it's not any better than the others, but it just seems… well… better. What do you think? Review and tell me!

I was actually going to have this chapter go all the way up to Platform 9 ¾, but, for whatever reason, this summer was longer than the last. Well, in the next chapter, you can look forward to Diagon Alley, interaction with Ginny, escaped lunatics, fights with Nott, advice from Forest, and a whole lot of sarcasm. Tune in next time! Same bat-time, same bat-channel!

A Lesson In French

All right, there was a bit of French in this chapter! And, while I know that most of you have no idea what it was, I thought translating it was visibly disruptive. What were they saying? Well, here it is!

1. Tyran is actually French for tyrant. chuckles at her own wit What? You don't think it's funny? Well, bite me. 3

2. "This is terrible! Terrible! You are a stupid boy! An idiot!" He's not the kindest man, is he?

3. "Enfer" is French for "hell".

4. "Thank God for small miracles! The reunion is almost-" I'm not sure I got the grammar right in these two sentences, so if you're French and are shocked by my atrocious slaughter of your beautiful language, just review and tell me the correct way to write it.

5. "Alles!" means "Go!"

6. "Adieu" is "goodbye". I think you should all know this but… whatever.

7. Means "please". Learn it, live it.

8. "Ma chere" is "my dear" in English. Fans of the X-Men rejoice at finding a word with which they are familiar.


From now on, we will be doing something new. They are called… REVIEW RESPONSES! YAAAAAAY!!!

IdentityCrisis: Yeah, I'm working on that. My beta didn't have time to read the last few chapters and so I had to try proofing them myself. Missed a lot, turns out. But I went back and reloaded them, making as many changes as I could find, so I hope it's better now. About the conversation format, well it does make things funnier, so I'm trying not to use it on more serious conversations. Don't worry, I'll be using script form in the future, when I can! Well, thanks so much for sticking by! You're the best! :huggles:

Vampire-Dragon Nidhogg: I'm so GLAD!!! Wow, it makes me feel really good to know that even non-D/Gers are reading. Hey, don't worry. It's not all about Draco/Ginny. Believable, slowly developed romances are more my style anyway. Besides, Draco is a teenaged boy (or will be in about seven chapters -) and will have more that one "romance". Yes, even Dracie-poo gets crushes. :hands you a muffin: Keep reading! We can only go uphill from here!

Strangely Bitter: Not to worry! My head has been sufficiently deflated. BRING ON THE COMPLIMENTS!!! Well, not the soonest update (sorry! sorry!), but I'm really glad you wanted one! Second Year will, like I said, move faster and be more tied together than First. You'll love it, believe me. Err… uhh… KNOCK ON WOOD!!!

Kaye: Thank you! I, for one, know how hard it is to force yourself to review, and whenever someone who usually doesn't does on one of my stories it makes me ramble on and on in sentences that are most likely run-ons! I'm glad it's funny! Remember, we want you to laugh, but we want you to think too. Things that seem random won't seem so random anymore in later chapters! Everything ties together!

Thaelia15: Oh, darn it. Have I brought about the end of the world again? Aww, man! But, hey! It means overly muscular guys in leather will come to interrogate me! I LOVE it when they do that! But off to more serious matters! (heh. yeah right.) It makes me soooo happy when people I know read because they are enjoying the story! Really, that's the most rewarding thing! And, yeah, Pansy's great. She'll only get better as time goes by! :blinks: Scooter… pixies? So you didn't like it or you just… what? (??? So confused! ???) Yes, the scene with Dumbledore is riddled with breadcrumbs. Hey, you forgot to mention that he was like Morpheus! :pouts: Oh, well. You can't win 'em all!

mnwugn: Hello, my dearest beta! Yes, yes. You will have your revenge. :attempts to be soothing but gets distracted by a shiny object: OH LOOK! A PENNY!

Nuit Chouette: Well… it's up at least, if not soon. Do you like Nott? I do. But maybe because I know more about his personality than you guys right now. Mini-Draco rocks! I forgot to mention him in this chapter. I suppose Draco tied him up somewhere so that Mini-dearest wouldn't get him in trouble. Maybe I'll write a scene where Mini-Draco sneaks into class with Monsieur Tyran. Hmm. I'm trying to read your stories, but fiction press says you don't exist. So frustrating…

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