Disclaimer: As per usual.
A/N: Well, a new year begins! School has begun for those of us still learning, and a new era has rolled around for all of us fans, regardless of age. I will, of course, be ignoring all events in the Half-Blood Prince for convenience's sake. (Some read, huh?) I hope it's not too big of a shock to be pulled back into this other universe, where things are still going the way we want it to, at least most of the time. I know it's been awhile, so at least read the recap if you don't want or don't have the time to skim the last chapter.
To recap: Cruelty stands at the fire, ready to control her puppets (though her assigned task from Snake has neither been revealed nor completed); Lucius Malfoy and Wormtail are prepared to go to the next stage in Sensing, but must cut their way out. Pansy's bitter about Draco spending so little time with her; Ron is taking small and silly steps to win Hermione over with innocent Harry by his side. Draco and Hermione are going through a spat: they both want to discover Voldemort's plans (specifically what Lucius Malfoy and Wormtail are up to), though for very different and selfish reasons: Hermione wants to know what her "dreams," or visions rather, mean; Draco simply wants to know what his father is doing, though what he will do with the information is still ambiguous. You'll find more about their reasons later on. The controversy lies in how they want to go about completing the task of collecting the information: They must visit the surviving victim at St. Mungo's, but Hermione refuses to leave without permission and Draco refuses to tell. And the winner? Who knows?
Last Time —
"Dumbledore told me that eight of the Muggles survived the riot, but most died hours later in St. Mungo's. My mum was one of the last three, and I'll bet that at least one of them lived through that night. I thought maybe we could find one of the survivors, and see if any of the Death Eaters slipped and gave them a clue about what they were planning to do."
It was likely, Draco reflected. In triumph, many did not remember caution. The drum in their ears and the blood in their veins drowned all tastes but the bitter laughter of superiority. Too many times he had done the same, and too many times he had suffered. "So, when do we leave?" he asked.
Hermione gave a small smile. A moment passed. It almost seemed to Draco that her gaze paled, that it wavered desperately, and then, "Soon, I hope. We've got to get permission first, of course, and that may take awhile—"
"Permission?" Draco echoed. "We can't tell anyone about this, are you crazy?" Hermione stopped speaking, her mouth yawning wide in disbelief. "Teachers will want to know why we want to go, they'll want to know how we know all this. We're not supposed to know about Sensing, and we're definitely not supposed to be able to put two and two together. What makes you think they'll let us go? They'll just look at us over their noses and tell us to forget about like good little boys and girls, and let the grown-ups deal with it. You can't expect us just to walk out of Hogwarts, no questions asked!"
"I most certainly do." Hermione shoved back her chair, and gathered Sense to her chest.
"Oh, come on, Hermione," he pleaded. "I know you don't want to be discovered with that book. Few of the teachers trust me, they'll just think I'm trying to go talk to the Dark Lord or something else equally ridiculous."
Hermione walked briskly towards the door, leaving his arguments echoing in the disapproval of her footsteps. At the door, she paused. "I'm sorry, Draco," she said softly. "But even Voldemort's not worth expulsion."
Chapter 12 – Words
Age and Innocence knelt sullenly in the corner, their puppets lying mangled and forgotten at the edge of the fire. Their eyes were lit with greed, with hope, with despair. Forever they were shunted aside, hidden in their sisters' shadows. The broad light of the orange flames rarely shined through the cloaks of twisted glory and triumph that cascaded from their sisters' shoulders.
Still, the ice of their misery – blue and treacherous – could never match that of Cruelty's. Her ambition could never be dissolved, even now in her moment of greatest victory. Her shadow stretched long over the flames, her fingers tamed the puppets with furious caresses. Overhead, a thick bolt of lightning thrashed to the ground, illuminating the world in white and black and red. In that brief moment, she turned her head, face bent towards the clouds. She sniffed – she could smell the temptation of a greater power, the scent a palpable smoke hovering just above her stooped form.
She snapped her eyes to the right, where the forest howled in bitter distress as the wind bit branches and twigs, throwing them to the earth. To the left, she saw the cold moor stretch in blond distance, grasses straining to grow, to hide, to lie in stillness. And there, as she looked to the center, the smell grew sharp and distinct in her nostrils:
Snake. Fire. Knife.
Cruelty smiled. A plan sprung from the darkness, wrapped the warm tentacles of an idea about her wizened mind.
Draco sat in silence as the door swung closed, shock flowing through every hair and nail on his body. He quivered with frustration and indignation and disbelief. How could she? How could she, one of the brighter students in the school, fail to recognize the importance of this mission? The irony settled around his shoulders, and his head dropped to the table.
Disappointment welled in the dips of his eyes.
He wasn't exactly sure why this was the pebble that tipped the balance, only that he hurt. The pain throbbed deep in his gut, twisting his face and slapping his cheeks until they became red with the blood that flushed to the surface. Self-doubt, a luxury he denied himself so fully and completely, broke the surface and poured into the marrow of his bones. It would not fade for many days.
He wondered how he could betray so many in a single night: himself, Pansy. He wondered at Pansy, simple and confounded at the complexity of the human being, and couldn't understand how she found forgiveness. He wouldn't have forgiven her, he knew, if she had done such a thing to him.
Devotion is a gift, he could hear his mother whisper. He turned his head, surprised, tears still settling in the crook of his elbow. You never learned it. I thought I knew it, but even now my love for your father wavers. Devotion is never to be abused, Draco. Never. I am ashamed that there is little room for dedication in you; you are more like your father with every passing year. You are shrewd and ambitious, but I hope that those softer moments I see in you become more than memory, that true compassion is preserved. It is not weakness, remember this above all else. I have little left. I love him with all my heart, but this absolute love pushed out kindness. I hope to God you remember yours...
Her voice faded. He felt, in the corners of his mind, his picture being set down on the mantle, his mother's hands and thoughts moving away from him. To his father, where those thoughts belonged. The tears came more swiftly now, and he cried silently until light broke over the windowsill. He looked up at the warm brilliance. He wiped his face with his sleeve, and slipped out of the Library.
The door clicked, and his footsteps echoed in the finality that followed.
Hermione bent low over her Arithmancy problem, biting her lip in concentration. Her quill carefully scratched the numbers on the parchment as she multiplied, divided, and multiplied again in repetitious certainty. Her fingers trembled as her conscience murmured doubt in her ears, threatening and baiting and biting. She screwed up her eyes in a momentous effort to throw the voice out of her mind completely. It didn't work.
She sighed and threw down her pen, twisting quickly in her seat to face Draco. He didn't bother to pretend innocence but looked her squarely in the eye. He accused her, he insulted her, he insisted that it was her fault, all within one imperial glance. Then, then he lowered his quill to paper and insolently began to work.
"Stop it," Hermione hissed furiously. She snatched the quill from his hand and threw it aside. Draco lazily reached for it, drowning her voice in the thin scrape of the point on paper. "Stop it. It's getting ridiculous. I understand you're angry with me, and I know you think I'm wrong. But this–this hissing isn't working. I'm not going to change my opinion because of a bunch of stupid threats."
Draco looked up. "It's not working?" he repeated. "No, I think it is. You're talking to me, aren't you?"
"I was never the one who didn't want to talk! You avoided me for weeks, Draco—"
"I told you not to call me that outside the Library," he interrupted, twisting in his seat. There was almost panic in his voice.
"I've tried to explain myself, to make you understand," Hermione continued, unheeding, "but you walked away every time I came close."
"I don't want to hear why you refuse to help me. I know enough already, and it disgusts me. Now turn around, Granger. I'm trying to work."
"I won't turn around! I want to make my say. Just listen to me for once, Draco, just once. I can't help you, I can't. It's more than just breaking rules – I've done it before, when it's truly important. I can't help you becau—"
Draco threw up his hand. "Professor Vector!" he said loudly. "Granger is disturbing me. I've asked her to get back to her own problem, but she's refusing to move."
Professor Vector paused in his slow journey between the desks. "Miss Granger," he said reprovingly, "you should know better. Mister Malfoy is entitled to his personal space. Please turn around."
Hermione shot Draco a disgusted look, and returned reluctantly to her work. As her quill resumed its ink path, a slow barrage of whispers began again the siege on her composure.
She waited until his pale head had disappeared beyond the classroom door before she followed. Books stuffed haphazardly in her bag, she jogged after his slight form as it wove between the black-cloaked students. She wasn't entirely sure of her plan, only that she felt the drumming need to talk to him, the need to explain herself. She would force him to listen this time, even if it was at wand-point.
Draco walked briskly down the corridor, turning right down a long staircase that led down to the dungeons. Everyone else would be at lunch, she knew, and tried to imagine why he'd skip one of the few social periods of the day. Unless it was to avoid her, she thought. She smiled.
Her question was answered abruptly. He stepped off the final stair, his feet loud on the cold stones, and looked furtively around. Hermione threw herself against the wall, wishing desperately she had Harry's Invisibility Cloak. With a shout, a small figure ran towards him from another direction and clasped hands around Draco's neck. Their heads bent close together, merging into a two-bodied being for a long moment, then broke apart to walk hand-in-hand towards an empty room. Laughter drifted feather-light to her ears.
Hermione fingered her Prefect badge longingly. She knew that detention would do nothing to ease the rift in their friendship, if she could have called it that, but the sweet feeling of revenge would almost be worth it. She sighed sadly, her fingers fell quiet to her side, and tugged her cloak tighter around her, then cautiously followed the couple towards the classroom.
She rounded the corner in time to see a door close, and heard the sucking noise of a sealing charm seconds after it. She knelt by the keyhole, hoping to see anything that would suggest how to proceed, but the room was dark and unfathomable. As she drew her eye away, she heard a muttered silencing charm, and all sounds ceased. She resigned herself to a long wait outside the door, and sat down feeling slightly ill.
It was easily a half-hour before sound returned to the classroom. Hermione leapt up, stationing herself to the right of the door where they hopefully wouldn't see her until too late. She heard the low murmur of Draco's voice and the soft, high response. They both laughed quietly, and approached the door.
"Alohomora," Draco whispered.
Pansy filed out of the room first, smiling gently back at Draco. Hermione felt the bile rise at the sight of her pug-nosed face, but managed to stay silent and still. Draco rested a hand on Pansy's waist, steering her out of the room and towards the Great Hall to rejoin the other students. They paused in front of the open door, faces bending towards each other, eyes closed, when Hermione stepped forward.
"Draco," she said. "Please."
The couple started. Pansy looked at her with contempt; silver eyes stared at her with something close to wonder. They broke apart, though Pansy kept her hand possessively on Draco's elbow.
"What do you want, Mudblood?" Pansy asked, cruelty sharp in her voice.
Hermione flinched at the word, but kept her gaze resolutely on the pale boy in front of her. "Draco," she said again. Her voice rose higher. "It's important."
Pansy looked up at him, a question in her eyes. Draco did not move. Her hand crept to his cheek, trying to bring his attention back to her. "Draco, what does this stupid Muggle want—"
"Fine," Draco said suddenly, and broke from Pansy's grip. He gestured to the classroom, mocking Hermione forward with a slight bow. She held her head high and stepped inside the room, lighting the floating candles with a vague wave of her wand. Draco followed her inside and closed the door, ignoring Pansy's reaching hands and his name bitter in her mouth.
Pansy looked at the wood, feeling lost.
Inside the classroom, Draco leaned against the door. Hermione stared around the classroom uncomfortably, almost wishing she hadn't attracted his attention. Draco stared at her intently, waiting.
"Talk," he said finally.
She took a deep breath. "Okay. I know that you must not like me very much right now. I suppose I should have made myself clearer, back in the Library. But you have to understand that this is difficult for me. This confession, I mean." She paused. Her hands kneaded each other, flowing from one interlaced pattern to the next, flickering in the light of the candles.
"When I told you about my idea to go to St. Mungo's, I was selfish," she continued. "I saw a glory for myself, helping Dumbledore in his fight against Voldemort. I also saw something else. I saw hope. I saw myself singlehandedly changing your allegiance, finding another ally to the Order."
Draco stirred.
"Stupid, I know. It's not for me to decide, or to change. But as I thought of this, I also blocked out something even more important. You see, when my mother—" She broke off. She turned away, opening and closing her hands. In a moment, she tried again, "When my mum died, I didn't really face her death. I didn't think about it. I forgot about it, really, and refused to recall it. As I sat there in the Library, I began to remember." She turned to him, appealing to him. "It hurt, Draco, it hurt more than you could imagine. The pain was so much I couldn't bear to follow through with my plan, not if it made me think of her.
"So I found the first opening I could, and ended it. I still think we should get permission first, if we were to ever carry through with the plan. I won't change my mind about that; this isn't life or death we're talking about here. I just thought it might be important that you know why I left, that there's more to the story than what you might have seen on the surface.
"That's all I came here to say."
There was silence. Hermione looked back at Draco, hands spread before her in a plea. Begging to be recognized, agreed with, understood. He stared back at her thoughtfully; he weighed her words, measuring their girth with an iron absolution. Neither moved for a long moment.
Draco crossed his arms, lifted his chin. "You're a good actress." He turned to the door, hand poised upon the knob.
"Wait. Where are you going?" Hermione asked, her voice rising with panic. "You didn't tell me what you thought. Concerning the plan, I mean."
He faced her. "What is there to think? I don't agree with you. I still think that this plan should be secret, that asking permission is suicidal. They're not going to let us go, Hermione, you must realize that. This secrecy — call it my way of curbing your selfishness. And your tongue, come to think of it. You can't tell anyone, and can't get any 'glory' for discovering the Dark Lord's idea."
Hermione let out her breath. Her hands leapt to her cheeks, resting there in frustration, pulling at the brown, frizzy hair framing her face. "Draco. Think logically. What happens if we're discovered? We're expelled."
"We won't get discovered."
"How are we supposed to even get out of here without a teacher's help? Neither of us can Apparate, and St. Mungo's is too far by broom. A teacher can help us with that."
"Transportation is easy," Draco dismissed. Hermione clenched her fists and pressed her teeth together until they groaned. "What we need is the name of the Muggle, if one survived. You don't need a teacher's permission for that; in fact, they're probably wondering why you haven't asked yet."
Hermione's eyes glazed and her breath came quickly in broken gasps. "You don't understand," she said, her voice breaking.
Draco's voice rose, overwhelming her plea. He paced in front of her, his body a whip as it turned corners swiftly and furiously. "I think I do understand, perhaps all too well. You want to know what I really think, Hermione? You really want to know? Fine. I think you're a coward. You're too afraid to do what's important because you're caught up in your bloody textbooks and parchment. You're scared to give your mother's death meaning. You're scared of understanding what's going on, and you're afraid of the burden that comes with the knowledge. You're just a frightened little girl, Hermione, scared of the dark, the dead, and herself."
Draco wrenched open the door, and swept out into the empty hall. Hermione stood still until she found the strength to stagger to a desk. As the students' chatter echoed through the corridor, she lowered her head to her arms, trying to separate her thoughts from the thrum of shock.
She didn't succeed.
"Pettigrew, the knife," Lucius Malfoy whispered, eyes slitted. The silver weight felt right as it fell into his palm, its length fit perfectly between wrist and finger. His pale hands caressed it, warming it with cruel intent.
"You see, Pettigrew," he murmured, still stroking the knife with maniacal care, "the next stage can be reached only by a door. Last time, the cut to nake this door was easy; I cut where the blood flowed through. It was intuitive that it came from somewhere else, so that by following the flow to the source, we would come to a new chamber. But here, there is a different story." He paused, scanning the round Womb slowly. The fetus suckled the blood in silence. "Pettigrew," he said sharply, "where would you make the cut?"
Wormtail was taken aback. He glanced around him, then pointed tremulously towards the wall opposite from the dark tunnel by which they arrived.
Malfoy laughed coldly. "This is why the Dark Lord chose me to lead this mission, and not you, my dear Pettigrew. Think. He told me, before we left, that 'The blood will lead us to the source.' Or, think of it this way: we're going backwards through the blood, Time. The Heart, where each individual life is given breath and where it is taken away, chronologically came after the Womb, where all life was born. Do you have it now? Do you know where we make our door?"
Without waiting for an answer, Lucius Malfoy slowly unsheathed the knife, the silver metal humming in the stillness. He extended his arm, and the tip quivered as it pointed to the answer. It pointed to the fetus, where it lay in its nest of veined blood and fed on the red stream of on Time. It pointed to the fetus, the life that was created in the Womb, and the life that sprung the Heart into existence.
A/N: I know this chapter is a wee bit shorter, my dears, but it threw a lot at you. Things are about to get rocky for our two heroes — this was only the beginning.
To clarify: In the Fates scene, Cruelty's ambition is kicking in; she wants more than mere control over the puppets. Draco's mother's voice, by the way, was just her thoughts as she looked at a picture and reflected on him. It's one of those surreal experiences where you feel as if they're standing by your shoulder, when you can sense that someone's thinking about you. Similar to a deja vu, except relating to the present. With Draco, he felt she was thinking about him, and it was almost an afterthought that he realized he could understand what she was thinking (not magic, just an occurrence. It's happened to me, actually, even if I couldn't actually tell exactly what they were thinking...scary when it does, that's for sure). To clarify this latest Sensing scene (the dream), remember that the blood is Time. My metaphor for Time was that it was a huge flood of blood, carrying skulls and oxygen (death and life) to the living beings in this world. Lucius Malfoy and Wormtail are ready to move to the next stage in their Sensing journey, and in order to make the door, must cut through the fetus. You guys got it? If not, ask in a review or email, and I'll do my best to explain.
Okay, responses. They're going to have to be brief, I'm afraid. I meant to get this thing up last week, but school got in the way. If I'm going to get it up at all, I'm just going to have to sacrifice a bit.
Fiona McKinnon: Hello, doll! You should have gotten your answer, I think ("Did it mean Hermione would rather tell D.D. than get kicked out?"). She does want permission to leave; she thinks - knows - that they risk expulsion if they're caught. They can't go to St. Mungo's, now, in the middle of term! Hermione, ol' stickler to the rules. Much like myself, I'm afraid. Much love to you! Can't wait to hear your thoughts on this latest!
Lady11Occult: Hee hee hee! Your predictions made me smile. A couple of them were vaguely on track, the ones that were less...out there. Of course, you don't know what I'll do! I'll turn the tables all around on you! Hm...now that I think about it, maybe I'll even try to use a couple of those...I especially like the Doom Day scenario (Lucius and Voldy win)... Kisses to you, ma cherie!
Callista: Hellohellohellohellohello! (Runs into you and knocks you over with a HUGE hug.) I haven't heard from you in FOREVER. How's everything been? The summer months? So sorry I couldn't update - things were so chaotic - but I did write an extra three chapters, so I should have some padding. Unfortunately, I'm being overloaded with schoolwork, so we'll have to see how long updates take. I'm guessing three weeks, hoping two. Grrr...damn school. Ruining ALL our lives. Anyways, the romance is sort of picking up, isn't it? She actually cares what he thinks now—that's an improvement! I can't wait to hear from you, hun! Much much much love!
May: Hey, m'dear! (I know it's been awhile, eh?) Thanks so much for your review - my summer vacation was wonderful. (Where do you live, by the way? Only three months till your summer vacation, right?) I do try to make people think with this fic. When I took a break from writing over the summer, one of the things I did was to look around and read other's fics more closely. Really, when you look hard enough, all of them have some deeper meaning, the same way that the characters and their dilemmas pertain to real life. Still, I tried to make this fic intellectually driven (it's vaguely working out), so I'm glad someone's picking up on the deeper meanings. This particular chapter was a little less thinking and more action, but I still threw in some metaphors for you! The entire story, actually, was unbelievably fun to write. Hugs to you, my dear! Hope to hear from you soon!
Lorett: HELLO! You know, I haven't heard from you in ages. I left a review AND sent two emails, but somebody didn't write back (looks at you meaningfully). But of course, now that this thing is updated, you can communicate via review. I suppose that'll have to do. Anyways, your review. Lot of thoughts there, let's see if I can be concise... FATES: Yeah, reading a little too much into it. Shadow was a bad word choice there ('Shadows strained at the corners of Cruelty's veil, scrabbling for a hold in her pitted flesh as she crept towards the edge of the orange flames.'), but I couldn't think of another way to say it. It really was just darkness, not the puppets. KIDS: Yeah, unfortunately Draco's having some sexual fantasies, about no one in particular (though I rather liked the new life being born idea). It's just throwing his decaying relationship with Pansy into sharp contrast, that he's dreaming about someone else while she's dreaming about him. (Good observation, by the way, Pansy is a very good candidate to be Cruelty's shadow.) And yeah, it's still decaying, even though they've seemed to patch things up a bit. Just a brief lull, really, he's already slammed the door in her face this chappie. FETUS: Hope that this chapter cleared up that mess (where's the blood coming from - you were right, by the way). The last little section was a bit busy and confusing, I wasn't that happy with it, really. I should go back and make it a little clearer - it lost a lot of people. Not to mention it's slightly redundant. Anywho, interested to hear what you're going to say - this chapter was a little less thought and more action.
Ally: You're another one I haven't heard from! How are you, lovie? I hope everything's okay over there, that you're not too overwhelmed again. Anyways, I promised I'd keep these things short (and failed again), so onto the review: I'm so glad you like my Pansy. 'The realization that Draco was closed off from her, perhaps never again to resurface.' I know it seems like he HAS resurfaced, but remember he just closed the door on her face - again. Draco definitely doesn't have that much consideration for her well-being, not nearly enough to match her concern for his. I also love Harry and Ron - oblivious is definitely the right word. They're so much fun to write - I know so many people just like them. And as for Hermione's refusal to go to St. Mungo's...there's more to her story, as you see. She's a wee bit lost, too. You'll have to tell me if that meets your expectations. And no, Draco's and Hermione's estrangement is not permanent, I hope they're getting close to reconciliation. Can't wait to hear from you, m'love! Soooo many kisses and hugs and bouquets of flowers to you!
Jiinx: Hello, my dear! Been so long, eh? Well, the ice around Hermione and Draco WAS melting - the process seems to have halted right now - but don't be too sure it's growing back. Every lover needs a quarrel, right? Theirs just happens to be a bit pettier than most. And thanks for the compliment ("not cookie-cutter bullshit") - that's high praise. It meant a hell of a lot to me, I can tell you that. I tried to make it different, and I think it's beyond awesome that it's mostly succeeding. I can't wait to hear what you think about this chapter - a little different from the couple that came before it. Many hugs!
Seghen: Thanks so much for the review! I'm glad you like my Lucius Malfoy - there are only little snippets of him, so I don't have to delve too deep into his character. I agree with you, though - he and Snape are definitely the hardest to write. Snape especially. There are so many layers, so many thoughts built on thoughts built on more thoughts that it's hard to keep track where one begins and another ends. Hope to hear from you soon - so sorry for the long delay.
LovesBitch2: Ack - you're lost? Oh no! Still, the good news is that you're getting more and more of it. If you have any specific questions though (I know a lot of people get confused around the Lucius/Wormtail/Hermione thing and the Fates scenes), please ask. Anyways, thank you so much for your review - I'm glad you're enjoying it. I'm having a helluva time writing it, that's for sure.
Minty: Hey, darlin'! Ack - so sorry I didn't get around to posting earlier (during the summer). I've been bad. Ah, well. Anyways, good eyes for picking up on that line ("'I would have been helping them.' She did not find the truth in the statement, but he did not mind. It was important to keep his loyalties hidden, at least until he understood them himself). It was a pretty obvious implication declaring that he isn't exactly loyal to the Dark Lord, but neither is he interested in the Order. I wrote it with the thought of confusion inside, he assumes that he needs to help his father, that it's his duty and maybe even what he wants to do, but that there's another side to the story he hasn't discovered yet. I imply that he doesn't necessarily agree with everything they're doing, though he approves of a lot of it (it's not quickly - or easily - that you grow out of teachings you were taught since you could talk). I would have explained all this eventually, but disclosing it is not going to hurt the plot. Think of it as a little preview... So, I'm interested to hear what you think about this chapter. We're getting into high gear now, lovie!
Accio: My dearest! How are you? Are you in Europe yet, or leaving very soon? Ahhh, I'm so jealous. As I've said that these shout-outs were going to be short and have already outdone myself (how does that happen?), I'm going to skip straight to the review. (Email me as soon as you get the chance, hun.) So, I'm just going to do a quick recap on the Lucius/Wormtail thing: They're actually inside the Womb - the creepy eye way back when was the fetus's eye, but at that point I hadn't figured it out yet - and they're prepared to move to the next stage. In order to get to the next stage, in addition to slicing a door and an incantation, they also need to shed their own blood. They chose the fetus as the cutting point, because Lucius logically thinks that hey, the blood led them here (they followed the flow to the Heart, cut where the blood was leaking through the wall of the Heart and took the passage to the Womb), why not keep following it? It flows into the fetus, so that's where they'll make their door. As for the metaphors, the different stages have so far been the "mechanics" of how this world (universe?) functions: the Heart, where time is beat out, and the Womb, where life (the fetus) is born. Where to next? Can you guess? Now, your questions on the last chapter: 1) Yeah, overthinking a bit; the fires in the Common Rooms were just a common element to link together the change Draco and Hermione are going through - they don't relate to the Fates. If you got a connection however, great - that's even better, though the link was unintentional. 2) The "figure limp with obedience" is left unclear - Cruelty could be playing with Pansy or she could be playing with Draco. Because Pansy's got a cruelty of her own, too, though right now our sympathy is kind of with her. But you have to remember neither of them are nice people—Draco would have hit Pansy, I think, because his cool rage was of that nature. 5) I love Ron. He's so clueless, like you said. And great foreshadowing, too, we'll see if that prediction of suffering comes true... 6) Yes, the Fates did lead Hermione to the Library. That was a bit unclear - if I get a chance to edit, I'll do better with that, I hope. Right, the last two questions I've answered as best I can above. So, much love, my dear, hope to hear from you soon!
Firebringer: Thanks so much, m'love! I'm glad you're enjoying it so far—I hope to see you around. I'll be interested to see what you think of this chapter—any observations of our two young...friends? enemies? lovers? children? adults?
Kayla: I emailed you, I did! See? I can be relied on, most of the time. I hope you continue reading—I'll continue sending update emails if you want. In the meantime, tell me what you think? Any thoughts on this chapter, these ideas I'm putting out there? Thank you so much for your review, I'm glad you're enjoying this story, dearie!
To everyone who's reading but not reviewing: thanks for stopping by. If you've got any questions or comments (I know this is a confusing story), please don't hesitate to drop a line. I'll do my best to answer.
—Alison