Chapter Twenty-Nine
Revenge, Confessions and Betrayal
ONE
Harry sighed heavily as he stepped out of Uncle Vernon's car and looked up at number 4 Privet Drive. This place felt so empty to him, after everything that had taken place here in years past.
"Come along, Harry," Uncle Vernon said, carrying Harry's trunk into the house. "Your aunt has been waiting to see you."
Harry entered the house behind Uncle Vernon, acutely aware that he was being treated far more tolerably than ever before. He wondered at what could have caused Uncle Vernon to be so nice, but dismissed it as more of the Dursley's new and improved attitude toward him.
"Harry!" Aunt Petunia cried, coming out of the kitchen and wrapping her arms tightly around Harry's waist. Harry tensed up at the contact, still unable to feel a human touch after being violated so harshly only a few days previously. Aunt Petunia must have noticed his discomfort because she released her hold on him and stepped back. "How are you, Harry?" she asked.
Harry shrugged, looking at his feet to avoid her eyes. Severus had told him that the Dursley's were aware of what happened to him. He didn't like the idea that Dumbledore had told them without even asking him first, but he shrugged it off. Did it really matter anymore? His life had fallen apart completely in less than a week's time. Did it really matter whether the Dursley's knew? Certainly not.
"Are you hungry, dear?" Aunt Petunia asked after the silence had become rather oppressive.
Harry shook his head a bit, not lifting his eyes. He felt as though he was on display in the zoo. A sign would be over his head on the cage reading, "Boy-Who-Couldn't-Fight-Back-And-Win". People would come from all over to see him and laugh at his misfortune.
Aunt Petunia sighed heavily, turning a look on Uncle Vernon, at which Harry wondered. What did that look mean? He sighed again. Who cared what the look meant? It wasn't as if the Dursley's could travel back in time and keep him from being raped.
"Why don't you get some rest, Harry?" Uncle Vernon suggested as he began to carry Harry's trunk up the stairs. "I know the train ride must have been rough."
Harry shrugged, but followed his uncle up the stairs nonetheless. He didn't care where he was, as long as he was alone. He didn't want to talk to anyone. He didn't want to see anyone. He wanted to vanish into a puff of black smoke and never return. In short, he wanted to die. The only thing that kept him alive was Severus' love, and he wasn't sure if he was just making that up, or if Severus really did love him. Severus had never said as much, but sometimes, when he would look at Harry, Harry could swear he saw love there.
"Sleep well, Harry," Uncle Vernon said as he dropped Harry's trunk at the foot of his bed. "I'll see you at breakfast."
Harry nodded a bit, still not looking at his uncle. As the door closed with a soft 'click', Harry moved to his desk and set Hedwig's cage down, opening it so that she could fly out of the open window. Instead, Hedwig flew to his shoulder, affectionately nipping his ear as though to ask 'what's wrong?'
Harry stroked her feathers lightly. "I'm okay, Hedwig," he whispered, the first time he'd spoken since the rape. Hedwig hooted her disbelief, butting her head into his hand.
Harry sighed, opening his trunk and removing his Potions text, intent on keeping his mind occupied. He didn't want to remember McCullen's hands on him. He didn't want to remember what Severus had told him the day after the rape with a sullen and guilty inflection in his dulcet voice.
TWO
Severus wondered still if he should have told Harry just how he knew Jason. Harry hadn't said a word when he woke, nor when Severus told him of his relationship with Jason. In fact, Harry hadn't spoken at all before leaving Hogwarts to go to his relatives for the summer.
Severus sighed, rubbing his hands over his face tiredly, trying to stop the images of his past from entering his mind. Harry would need him to be strong when he came back to Hogwarts. Severus knew from first-hand experience that being raped was not something one forgot easily.
"Severus, you are such a lovely boy," Lucius Malfoy purred into fourteen-year-old Severus' ear. He kissed along Severus' jaw, wetting the skin with his tongue. "I'm going to fuck you through the floor boards."
"I'm not in the mood for fucking right now, Lucius," Severus replied, feeling rather soiled by the young man's attentions. He'd never liked Lucius, but he now had to put up with him.
"Isn't that a shame, Vent?" Lucius said maliciously. "I am in the mood, therefore your opinion on the matter makes no difference."
"Lucius," Severus protested. "Can't we wait until a bit later?"
"What was that, Vent?" Lucius asked, glaring at Severus with his too pale eyes. "I don't think I heard you correctly."
Severus swallowed heavily, knowing that his life or death hung in the man's blood soaked hands. "C-caretaker," he stuttered. "I- I asked if we could wait until later."
"I think not, Vent," Lucius snarled, ripping Severus' robe open, fabric tearing and buttons flying everywhere. "I want you now."
Severus struggled against the blonde, not wanting to be touched any longer. "Let go of me!" he cried when Lucius tightened his grip.
"Impudent little whelp!" Lucius growled, dragging Severus by his hair to the bed. "You will learn respect, Vent, if I have to beat it into you!" He threw Severus onto the bed, conjuring ropes to bind his arms and legs to the bedposts. Once he was satisfied that Severus' struggling would produce no results, Lucius magicked Severus' clothes away as well, his eyes roaming appreciatively.
"Please, Caretaker!" Severus pleaded, struggling to free himself from the binds. "Not like this! Please!"
Lucius stripped slowly, watching Severus fight as he did so. "You will learn to follow orders, Vent," he said. "When I say I want to fuck, you're supposed to strip and hold that delectable ass at the ready." Once he was completely disrobed, he crawled onto the bed.
"Please, Caretaker," Severus begged. "I won't do it again."
"Ah, the slut learns quickly," Lucius remarked. "Perhaps I shall drive the lesson home, as it were." With that, he roughly took Severus without warning.
Severus felt like quite the little slut after that encounter, unable to even look at Jason, then his boyfriend, for nearly a month afterwards. He hadn't, however, stopped speaking all together as Harry seemed to have done. How pathetic he was at fourteen, begging Lucius to leave him be. How amused Lucius must have been to break him. It had taken four more rapes for Severus to do as Lucius had suggested. When Lucius said he wanted to fuck, eventually Severus did indeed strip and hold himself at the ready.
"I should have killed that bastard the moment he arrived here,' Severus thought bitterly, thinking again of what Jason had done to Harry. 'What a perfect little Death Eater he is, raping someone that way without a second thought. I'll kill him yet.'
With that thought, Severus stood from his seat and moved to the door of his rooms. It was the middle of the night, so no one would notice him missing, not that there were many people around to notice. Only Dumbledore and Poppy stayed at Hogwarts during the summer, so he shouldn't have much trouble.
Once away from the castle grounds, Severus Apparated to Azkaban Prison, intent on finding his wayward ex-lover. Azkaban was too good a fate for filth like Jason McCullen. He stared up at the imposing structure passively, feeling for the wards surrounding it. He could see the magic shimmering around the walls, protecting it from penetration. He nearly laughed at that: as though a few pesky wards could keep a Spellweaver out. Ridiculous. The wards were a mere inconvenience, nothing more.
He picked his away along the rocky terrain until he stood by the doors. He lifted his hands before him, pushing his magic out and deconstructing a part of the wards until the door was left unprotected. After that, he pushed his way inside, not bothering the check for guards, as he knew the only guards around would be Dementors, and he would have no trouble avoiding them.
It took him nearly an hour to locate Jason's cell, and when he did, he sneered in disgust. Jason was rather clean looking and sleeping peacefully. Clearly, the Dark Lord had ordered the Dementors to leave Jason be. Well, a lot of good that did Jason now. It wouldn't matter what the Dementors did with him once Severus was through.
He used his magic again to unlock the cell, slipping inside silently and warding it so that Jason could not escape through the open door. He poked Jason forcefully with his forefinger, and then stood back to wait for the filth to wake.
Jason stirred, sitting up slowly and rubbing his eyes. He looked around in confusion. "Severus?" he asked when his eyes spotted Severus standing by the wall.
"Hello, Jason," Severus said as though greeting a good friend. The sneer on his face told a different story.
"What are you doing here?" Jason asked carefully.
Severus laughed. "Oh, silly Jason," he purred. "Surely you didn't think I'd let you get away unpunished? No, no, no, no, that wouldn't do at all."
Jason looked very frightened as he watched Severus. He knew what Severus was capable of, especially in the throes of rage.
"Unfortunately, I haven't much time to play with you, or I would make this more interesting," Severus commented. "As it is, I don't feel that Azkaban is enough punishment for you."
"What do you want from me?" Jason asked.
"I want you to die," Severus replied. He'd decided not to use his wand this night, as it would incriminate him should anyone suspect. Wandless magic was second nature to him, as he was practically made of magic now. "Discerpere," he whispered, holding his hand out to Jason.
Jason's screams echoed through the prison as his body began to stretch grotesquely. His arms went first, tearing from the sockets with a satisfying snap. Blood spurted from the wounds as Jason screamed in absolute agony. Next were his legs, ripping out and falling to the floor, twitching from reflexive nerve impulses, Jason's screams intensifying. After that, the sound of bones crunching and skin tearing announced the separation of Jason's upper body from his lower body. Severus smirked as Jason's bottom half fell off the bed, his intestines falling limply out of the bloody wound. Finally, a loud crack echoed about the cell as Jason's neck severed from his upper torso, his head falling to the pillow and rolling until it hit the floor.
Severus walked to where the head had landed, smirking evilly at it. He bent down and lifted it up, ignoring the blood dripping onto the floor by his feet. "You picked the wrong person to cross, Jason," he said. He dropped the head on the floor and watched as it slowly stopped bleeding, the expression of pure agony forever etched onto its lifeless face.
Severus looked around the cell with satisfaction, taking in the blood that was coating almost every surface. No one touched what belonged to Severus Snape and lived to tell the tale. Jason McCullen would never hurt another innocent soul again.
Severus decided that since he was here, he might as well go and check on Miss Zabini. He thought he might like to kill her off as well. Turning from the bloody cell, he walked briskly to the women's ward, not bothering to close Jason's cell behind him. It wasn't as though Jason was going to escape now, after all. It took him nearly another hour to locate the wench, and when he did, he was very disappointed.
Zabini was covered with filth, much of it her own, and was very obviously quite insane. The little whore never did have much stamina. Severus grimaced at the stench issuing from the cell and turned on his heel, deciding that she had gotten her just deserts.
Sighing with disappointment at being denied his second revenge, Severus turned and left the prison, Apparating back to Hogwarts for a nice comforting glass of absinth. He sighed as the first sip trickled down his throat, warming him slightly, and easing the tension from his body. He knew that Dumbledore would know what he'd done and wouldn't be able to prove it or do anything about it. Severus smirked at the thought. "For you, Albus," he said, lifting his glass in a toast. "May you forever wallow in your guilt."
THREE
Hermione sighed tiredly as she dropped her things on the floor in her room. She dropped on her bed, closing her eyes, one arm draping across them to block out the light. She felt very sad and useless at her inability to help Harry. He'd been completely silent on the train, choosing to stare out of the window for most of the trip.
With Harry's permission, Draco had told Hermione all that had happened to them that night. Afterwards, he pulled her to his room for a few personal confessions he'd been keeping from her.
Draco paced the room nervously as Hermione waited patiently for whatever it was that Draco wanted to tell her. He sighed, passing his hand through his hair in that nervous gesture that Hermione found so adorable.
"Okay," he said. "There's really no easy way to say this, so I'll just be blunt." He sat heavily on the bed next to Hermione. "I have to say it all at once, so please don't interrupt, okay?"
"Okay," Hermione replied gently, taking Draco's hand in hers.
"When I was little, about four, I suppose, my father used hug me a lot," Draco began. "He'd tell me that I was such a good little boy, whenever I did as he said without asking questions. I was so small; I only wanted to please him, to make him love me more.
"Around the time I turned five, father started to… touch me in ways that weren't necessarily appropriate. He'd purr in my ear and tell me I was good, and that I'd make him proud of me one day. He'd hit me if I protested, saying that I was being disobedient. 'Don't you want to make Father proud?' he'd ask me. Naturally, being so young, I eventually gave in, thinking that all little boys did these things for their fathers."
Hermione swallowed thickly, trying to hold back the desperate tears that wanted to spill.
"I'm not sure how much you know about the Death Eaters," Draco said, seemingly changing the subject. "In order to become one, you have to be a Vent. Sex slave," he explained at seeing Hermione's blank expression. "I know now that Father was preparing me for that, never mind that Voldemort had fallen by that time. He raped me for the first time when I was thirteen.
"I came home for the summer after third year, and he pulled me aside. He said it was time for the next phase of my training. He took me to his bedroom, threw me on the bed and… well, I'm sure you know the mechanics of sex. At any rate, it was a common occurrence from then on. When Voldemort was resurrected, I was immediately named as Father's Vent. He had another Vent at the same time, but I never saw him. Mother knew what was happening, but she ignored it, the same way she ignored everything else. I'm not entirely certain that she cared.
"Anyway," Draco said, running a hand through his hair again. "I was Father's Vent until Voldemort attacked the school last year. It was over then." He looked at her with a pinched expression, as though expecting her to pull away from him in disgust.
"Oh, my Draco," Hermione whispered, unable to stop the tears coursing down her cheeks. "I'm so sorry."
Draco shook his head. "You didn't know, and if you did, there wouldn't have been anything you could have done. It doesn't matter now." He took her hand in both of his. "I have one more thing to tell you."
"I'm listening," Hermione whispered, afraid of what he would say, but knowing that it needed to be said.
Draco took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment, and then looking into her eyes. "I'm a Telepath," he said bluntly.
Hermione was floored. "When did this happen?" she asked.
"Do you remember when I was stuck up in the Hospital Wing?" Draco asked. "It happened then. I had my Majority then. I could only see one person at a time because I could hear everyone's thoughts. That's… that's why I haven't been able to go to classes."
"And that's why you asked Harry to stay," Hermione said. "And why you're staying with Snape and him now. They're both Occlumens, so you can't hear their thoughts."
"Yes," Draco replied.
'Why didn't you tell me before?' Hermione thought.
"Because I didn't want to scare you away," Draco said, catching Hermione by surprise. He looked at his lap and said, "I'm sorry. I can't control it yet, so everything you think filters into my head."
Hermione understood now why Draco couldn't be around her for very long. It must be terrible for him to have to hear every solitary thought she had.
"It is," Draco said. "I… I understand if you, er, don't want to see me anymore."
"Draco, don't be daft," Hermione admonished, smiling fondly at him. "I love you. So you're a Telepath. So what? You're learning to control it, I'm sure, and I'll be here for you every step of the way."
Draco pulled her into his arms. "Thank you," he said. He groaned slightly after a moment and pulled away from the embrace, holding his head in his hands.
"I guess I should go," Hermione said, pecking his cheek. "I'll come and see you before the train leaves."
Draco stood, pulling her into his arms again. "I love you," he said, bending his head and placing a tender kiss on her lips.
"I love you too," Hermione said after the kiss. "I'll see you soon."
Hermione sighed again. Life was getting to be far too dramatic: so many things happening to the people around her, and her, powerless to stop it. She felt terrible, thinking of her poor Draco trapped in those dungeons, unable to be around people because of his gift. She didn't want to cry, but it seemed to be all she could do anymore.
"Hermione!" her mother called from downstairs. "Get down here!"
Hermione sighed, not looking forward to yet another confrontation with her mother. She rose from the bed and made her way to the sitting room, wondering what her mother could possibly want now. "Yes, Mum?" she asked.
"You're coming with me to work tomorrow," her mother announced without looking up from her logbooks. "I want you to work at the reception desk."
"I have homework, Mum," Hermione objected.
"You can work on it when you get home," her mother snapped. "I won't have you bringing that filth to the office. Now, go to bed. I expect you to be ready to go in the morning."
"Yes, Mum," Hermione said dejectedly. Her mother had been very aloof and cold since Hermione had started at Hogwarts. Of course, to strangers she praised her daughter's brilliance and talent, but in closed quarters, she did everything in her power to make Hermione feel like nothing. Hermione was just grateful that her father accepted her as she was, no questions asked.
She trudged back up the stairs, intent on getting a head start on her homework. One more year, and then she could get a job in the wizarding world. 'Just one more year,' she told herself, pulling her history text from her bag.
FOUR
"You are doing much better, nene," María complimented as Draco closed off his mind from her.
"Harry was a good teacher," Draco replied.
"Sí, I have seen as much," María said absently. "We are ready to begin the next phase. You must be willing to work with me. Harry will not be able to help you with this part."
Draco nodded. "I think that perhaps I was a bit hasty before," he said. "Forgive me?"
María smiled a bit at that. "Forgiven, mijo," she said. "Now, you can keep your thoughts guarded. The next step is to block out mine. Focus your mind, as though you are doing Occlumency."
Draco closed his eyes, clearing his mind as instructed. He could do the Occlumency, but he wasn't quite able to do it without thinking yet. With his mind clear, he could hear María's thoughts perfectly.
"Very good, nene," María said. "Focus on my thoughts. Acknowledge them and let them slip away like water."
Draco could acknowledge the thoughts, but letting them go was something else altogether.
"Breathe deeply, Draco," María said. "The thoughts are nothing. Let them pass through your mind. Dismiss them as unimportant."
That was easier. As he continued the exercise, he noticed that the frequency of the thoughts began to diminish, until they were gone altogether. He sighed with relief. "Thank you," he said. "I don't think I could have taken much more of that."
María raised an eyebrow at him. "I have done nothing, nene," she said.
"Of course you did," Draco negated. "You started Occluding."
"No, Draco," María said. "I am not Occluding at all."
Draco stared at her, astonished. "You're not?"
"No," María replied with a small shake of her head and a small smile. "You are blocking me out."
Draco completely relaxed his mind, and her thoughts began pouring in again. "Wow," he muttered in disbelief.
"I told you it would be easier if you learned Occlumency first," María commented slyly. "Was I wrong?"
"Most assuredly not," Draco said, sitting heavily, running through the exercise again. He sighed when her thoughts vanished once more.
"You must keep doing it as much as you can, until it comes without thought," María instructed. "I will help you with this. You have good potential, Draco. You will go far."
Draco smiled at her. "Thank you for helping me," he said.
"You are welcome," María replied. "I think you will be able to go back to school next year. You learn fast, when you want."
Draco laughed a bit at her, an occurrence which had become increasingly rare since June. "I do," he agreed.
FIVE
Harry sighed, thinking of the next week when he could finally go home to Hogwarts and Severus. He knew that the Dursley's were trying, but they simply had no idea how act around him anymore. They treated him like a piece of glass that would shatter if they weren't careful.
Harry had pushed all of his bad memories to the back of his mind and locked them in a box, hoping to never release them again. He knew he was fooling himself, though. Once he returned to Hogwarts, Severus would probably want a kiss, or a hug, and Harry knew that he wouldn't be able to give it. Just the thought of someone touching him made him feel faintly ill.
"Harry?" Aunt Petunia asked, grabbing her purse from the table. "Are you ready to go?"
Harry nodded and followed his aunt to the car. They were going to Diagon Alley today to pick up Harry's school supplies. He didn't like the idea of being so exposed with his aunt, but he knew that he had to pick up his things. He also knew that Aunt Petunia was extremely nervous about going into a wizarding area, but was grateful that she was putting up a brave front.
They moved about Diagon Alley quickly, Harry wanting nothing more than to get back to number 4 as quickly as possible. The hero-worship was getting to him. He didn't think he could shake another person's hand without breaking down completely.
He stepped out of Flourish and Blotts, happy that the shopping was finally done.
"Is that everything, Harry?" Aunt Petunia asked, shifting nervously from foot to foot.
Harry nodded. He led the way towards the Leaky Cauldron, hoping that no one would touch him. As they neared the pub, a spell sped passed him, nearly singeing his sleeve. He spun around, pulling Aunt Petunia behind him without thinking, and found himself confronted with three Death Eaters. He cursed fluently inside his head, knowing that his magic was extremely averse to offensive spells since his Majority.
"Potter," one of the Death Eaters said hatefully. "The Dark Lord requests an audience."
Harry nearly laughed at the absurd phrasing. Requests an audience? Were they serious? "You can disrespectfully give him my refusal," he said coldly.
"Tut, tut, Potter," the one on the right said. "I'm afraid he won't take 'no' for an answer."
"Too bad," Harry replied, hating the way his voice broke at times, but knowing it was his own fault for not speaking for so long. He could tell that it was only these three, but the whole of Diagon Alley seemed suddenly deserted. Typical: the patrons were relying on Harry to save them from this threat, without any help, as though hundreds of witches and wizards couldn't take on three Death Eaters.
That's when the magic started flying. Harry couldn't send any particularly harmful spells their way, as it would drain him just to cast them, but he could use spells like Stupefy and Rictosempra, and other less violent spells. They laughed at his spells, saying they weren't fighting some schoolboy's duel. Harry gritted his teeth, keeping his body firmly between Aunt Petunia, who was throwing discarded objects from behind him, and the Death Eaters.
Their spells became increasingly dangerous as the duel went on, and Harry was amazed that he was still holding his own. He cast another Stupefy at the trio, which was dodged easily, and cursed fluently in his mind again.
Suddenly there was a loud crack, and someone, a tall blonde someone, was standing in front of Harry. The new arrival cast Discerpere at the trio almost at once. "Get out of here, Potter!" he yelled, his voice very familiar.
Harry didn't think twice. "Thank you!" he cried, and then grabbed Aunt Petunia's arm and raced from Diagon Alley as quickly as he could. Only when they were once again safely ensconced in number 4, did Harry realize why that man had seemed so familiar. Mike, Severus' old Vent, had rescued Harry from the Death Eaters. Harry sat stunned in the Dursley's living room, wondering why the man would have saved his life that way. He barely noticed when his aunt placed a cup of strong, hot tea on the table in front of him.
"Who were those people?" Aunt Petunia asked, her voice still shaking slightly.
"The bad guys," Harry replied blankly, still wondering at Mike. Who was the man working for, now that he was no longer a Vent? Dumbledore, perhaps? It seemed possible. Dumbledore was well known for providing sanctuary to those who asked for it. McCullen was a perfect example of that.
"Why were they attacking us, of all people?" Aunt Petunia asked.
Harry snorted disdainfully. "Because I'm Harry Bloody Potter," he said, picking up the teacup and taking a sip.
Aunt Petunia shook her head. "Don't talk that way, Harry," she said.
"Do you remember Voldemort?" Harry asked, taking another sip.
"Yes," Aunt Petunia replied, shuddering a bit. "How could I forget that awful summer?"
"Those men were his followers," Harry explained. "They're a bit sore with me for defying their master."
"Won't they come after you?" Aunt Petunia asked fearfully, looking out the window as though expecting to see Death Eaters lining the street.
"There are protective wards here," Harry said, leaning back. "They can't find me as long as I'm here."
"What if the wards fail?"
"They won't fail as long as you're alive."
Aunt Petunia stared at him with disbelief. "I'm not a witch!" she exclaimed, sounding almost frantic in her denial.
Ah, so she still wasn't over her problem with magic. "No," Harry said. "But you are my mother's sister. She sacrificed her life to save mine, and so it is blood magic. Your blood relation to me, as well as you willingly taking me in, put the wards up. My mother's love, and your acceptance, has kept me safe for many, many years."
Aunt Petunia set her teacup on the table, her hand trembling slightly. "I never thought that something like that was possible," she muttered. "I thought that old man only sent you here because we were your last living family."
"I know," Harry said, rubbing his face tiredly. "Thank you for taking me in, by the way. I'd be dead by now if you hadn't."
Aunt Petunia swallowed. "You're welcome," she whispered. She turned her eyes to the front door as it opened and Dudley stepped in.
"Hey, Mum," he said, and then his eyes narrowed as they landed on Harry. "What are you doing down here? Tired of being holed up in your room already?"
"Dudley, be nice," Aunt Petunia said distractedly.
"I was speaking with my aunt, cousin," Harry replied, deliberately reminding Dudley of their relation to each other.
Dudley stared incredulously at hearing Harry speak. Harry wasn't talking the last summer, and this was the first Dudley had heard him doing so this summer. "Whatever," he said shortly. "I'm spending the night at Pier's. I just came home to get my stuff."
"Have fun, Duddykins," Aunt Petunia said, still sounding somewhat dazed.
"I think I'll go get some rest," Harry said, standing up. "Thank you for the tea."
Aunt Petunia waved him away dismissively, still looking out the window.
Harry moved up the stairs and flung himself on his bed, deciding that talking really wasn't worth it. All he'd managed to do was make Aunt Petunia worry. What a waste. He decided that from now on, he wouldn't talk unless it was important. That was the best way to do things; any other talking was just wasted words to fill the silence. Harry didn't so much mind silence any more. He'd grown rather used to it over the summer.
Author's Note: As usual, the NC-17 bits can be found at ensnared . thehexfiles . net or hpfandom . net. Many thanks to Victoria Ennis for her hard work on this fic. Thanks also to…
Purplepaper
Chibi-Kaisie: hehehe, I hope this answered your question.
Hikari-Aoi: Sounds good. I'm going to be a Renaissance Lady.
Ktoddhim
LeeLeePotter: I hope you enjoyed it!
Shieemi Shimabukuro
Shadow Eclipse: That would be funny. I can just see Dumbledore's devastated expression… hehehe "My sherbet lemons! NOOOOOOO!" Hehehehe
Sh'arra Rie: I wasn't much pleased with them either. I'm hoping the last one makes up for some of it.
Rosalia: Did you enjoy watching Jason die? I know I did.
Nimeariel
Mariana: Things do get better… eventually
Jujube 15: Yes, he should
Street-Rats-Unite
Zak and Ivan: I have pink hair, myself. Hmmm, handcuffs, eh? Kinky.
SexylsSnape126
DestinyEntwinements: He's going into seventh year now.
Jeni: You weren't saying too much, m'dear. I like to see the readers' opinions.
Nicky12330
Alister: I'll just send the whole thing. I'm too lazy to find all the juicy bits… hehehe
Dracosbaby08
HAPPY HALLOWE'EN TO EVERYONE!