Ah, now this must surely be a record for me. Tis only been about four days since my last update and I'm updating again, though the chapter is pretty short. Don't get used to it though. School shall be back next week and I'll be run into the ground by end-of-the-semester exams and my next semester will be frightfully busy. As a warning, I might have to put this story and my others on hold until summer rolls around, but I'll try and squeeze in a few chapters here and there. After all, I do have all those potential snow days and then the professional days and Spring Break. My senior year of high school will be exceedingly easy since I'll have finished the bulk of my major academic classes in the preceding grades. Happy New Year to everyone! I also want to send out heartfelt condolences to those that lost their lives, homes, and/or loved ones in the dreadful tsunami that rocked the Indian Ocean around Indonesia…it's utterly terrible this death toll. Now, I am kind of getting this weird desire to join the International Red Cross when I'm older.
The effects of whatever drug had been injected into her system were acting quickly and rendering Hermione's limbs useless and rubbery. She tried to push herself back to her feet and attempt an escape, but all her efforts were futile. She blinked back tears of fear and frustration and tried to clear her thoughts so she could find a way to remove herself from this poor situation, which was growing poorer by the second. She fancied she could feel the coldness of the hardened snow on the ground seeping deep into her bones as she sat upon the ground.
She did notice the appearance of cloaked figures entering the clearing where the treacherous sneak in the disguise of her friend had so deviously led her. The bookish slayer felt so angry with herself that she did not see it earlier; that she was not able to sense that Jordan was not in fact Jordan with her slayer senses. How could she, the glorified brainiac of Gryffindor and all of Hogwarts; as clever as a Ravenclaw with the courage and strength of Gryffindor, allow herself to be tricked like that?
Hermione felt like her entire life force was being drained and could think of nothing better than to lie down on the ground and go to sleep. She struggled to keep from losing herself to the alluring darkness pressing down upon her and concentrated on reaching down into her pocket to grasp her trusty wand. She was smart enough to know that even if she used her magical prowess against these people it would be for naught. She was far outnumbered and she barely had strength enough to stay awake let alone to run back to the house. But she could think of nothing else to latch onto and it made her feel more secure.
"Well done, my young friend," a dark voice intoned. Hermione shivered at the way the man's voice effected her, making her heart palpitate in terror. She did not recognize this voice, but it bore the same ominous tone of one whose intent is anything but helpful.
"Wish I could stay and watch that vampire torture the Mudblood bitch," Jordan's impersonator said. Hermione thought she detected a familiar air of disdain in the voice, but she did not trust her senses enough to tack on an identity at the moment.
She heard someone approach her and she brandished her wand as fast as she could manage while trying to crawl away. Her lungs were constricting with terror and causing her breathing to quicken its pace as her heart raced beneath her ribcage. She pointed the wand at the person coming towards her and yelled, "Stupe—"
She did not even finish uttering the words to the stunning curse before her wand was swept out of her hand by an invisible hand. It flew right into the outstretched hands of the figure swathed in dark robes before her. He stared at the object for a moment before snapping it in half between his fingers and dropping the pieces to the ground. Hermione cried out in fury at the destruction of one of her most prized possessions. She had had that wand since she was ten, when she first found out she was a witch and going to attend Hogwarts. That wand represented the beginning of a new life in which she found friends, adventure, her true calling, and most important of all, love. It seemed so impossible that it was now nothing but shards on the ground. She blinked back the hot tears in her eyes threatening to fall. She would not exhibit any more weaknesses in front of these people.
"Oh, don't worry, child. You won't need your beloved wand any longer. For what do the dead need to do magic for?" he scorned, his deep-set brown eyes glinting with malice.
Hermione swallowed hard and looked up into his face, "What do you want?"
"From you? Nothing really. I have no interest in the slayers personally. I'm just fulfilling my end of a bargain," he explained.
"What bargain?" Hermione's voice was little more than a whisper. She wasn't ready to die yet, but it didn't seem to matter right now if she were ready or not. If she didn't find a way out of this or if someone didn't rescue her, she would die. Oh Ron, I'm so sorry.
The man snapped his fingers and Hermione suddenly was scooped up upon the shoulders of a vampire all decked out in its game face. She kicked and fought as best she could in her weakened state, earning the ironic laughter from the man in the dark robes, the one who led her here, and the other creatures surrounding them.
"Let me go!" she screamed over and over till her voice grew hoarse.
The man sniggered derisively and said, "The Cruciamentum drug is a most wondrous invention, wouldn't you say…Miss Granger, is it? Had to torture quite a few watchers to get that particular weakness out of them. I'm afraid I've given you a much larger dose than what is normally given to slayers. Needed to up the dosage a bit to completely ensure total loss of slayer strength, so you might feel a bit sluggish for a while. Of course, if my consort chooses you to be first in line, well, I suppose you won't have to worry about that." He ran his hands through a few brown curls that had fallen from Hermione's bun.
Enraged and disgusted by this man's sheer audacity in laying a hand upon her when she was powerless to protest, Hermione scowled at him and spit into his face. Though she really didn't enjoy the pastime many boys seemed to take pride in, she felt it was the only option left to her at the moment. The man wiped the fluid off of his face and grinned evilly at her. It was his way of telling her, Did you really think that was going to change anything? I still am the one with the power here.
"Here's your portkey. She's the thirteenth one I've procured for Lady Drusilla and that ought to be enough. Thirteen is a lucky number for your kind. Give your mistress my best wishes and thank her for the services she has done for our cause," he instructed the vampires.
Thirteenth? Thirteen of what? Hermione did not have time to ask, as if she really expected an answer, before the clearing disappeared as the portkey was activated. The young slayer was whisked away to the place where she would most likely meet her doom.
Hastemire waited until all the assorted vampires and demons in the employment of the Lady Drusilla disappeared. He then turned to the remaining human other than himself in the woods. The girl had her hands clasped together in obvious excitement and she was barely containing her glee at seeing the Gryffindor girl finally get knocked off of her soapbox. She had dreamed of it for years and now she was finally witness that dream come true.
"Miss Parkinson, I can remove the glamour spell now. You have done a very good job and you shall be amply rewarded. Indeed, the dark lord will be most pleased with you when I tell him of what you have done," he told the girl.
The girl smiled as thoughts of glory entered her empty little head while the warlock undid the glamour spell. As the girl's outward appearance returned to normal Hastemire suppressed the desire to redo the glamour spell. She had looked far more pleasing to the eye as the American slayer-witch. Her face now resembled that of an ugly little pug. He reached into his robes and produced a small bag of golden galleons and a pendent designed to be a portkey.
"Here's your money and your portkey to return home. You best do it now before the people in the house notice the girls are missing," the Wiccan warlock advised.
Pansy nodded in understanding and eyed her bag of money greedily. Hastemire could sense the supreme self-importance and pride within the young girl that he had just increased exponentially by using her in his plans of capturing slayer-witches in order to seal the deal with Drusilla.
As the girl disappeared from the clearing, Hastemire took a moment to review over the advantages his new vampiric accomplice had just given him over Voldemort and his enemies. Though the dark lord believed Hastemire to be gathering all these new connections and underworld forces specifically to aid in his campaign of world domination and Muggle-blooded obliteration. Hastemire could not wait for the day when he could rip the chance to rule out of Voldemort's hands.
This was why it was so imperative Harry Potter be kept alive. Rumor in the underground was that he was going to be the only one powerful enough to defeat Voldemort, though Hastemire had carefully made sure none of that significant information made its way to the dark lord's ears. He had to pull quite a few strings and exact quite a few silencing spells to keep just that from occurring.
The most important piece of the puzzle of his plan had yet to be set in its proper pace and that particular puzzle piece possessed red hair, dark green eyes, and the name of a tree. But her time would come soon enough.
He turned to his demon servants and commanded them to prepare to leave these woods. For the moment, his work here was done. Now all he had to do was watch it play out in whatever way Fate deemed necessary.
Hermione tumbled unceremoniously to the ground as she and her vampire escorts reached their intended destination. Sore and slightly disoriented from the effects of the Cruciamentum drug, she worked at trying to bring her vision back to focus so she could get an idea of where they had taken her. The sky was darkened so that even the light of stars or moon could not penetrate the thick layer of precipitation-swollen clouds. The air was bitingly cold and the wind whipped around with an eerie whistling sound accompanying it. It was just perfect for the dismal prognosis of Hermione's situation.
"Mmmmm. She's a right tasty wench, isn't she?" one of the vampires remarked in a gravelly tone. He leered at Hermione and she stiffened in fear.
"The mistress said all the girls were to be unspoiled before being brought to her. No sampling," another vampire warned.
"I wasn't talking about eating," the first vampire countered, rubbing his groin area. Hermione whimpered and tried to make herself as small as possible by drawing all her limbs close to her body.
"She said none of that either," the first vampire's cohort reminded him in exasperation. Fortunately, he was the one to heft Hermione up onto his shoulders.
While she was not happy to be touched by any of those foul creatures, she would much rather be carried by the one who hadn't been staring at her with those lust-filled eyes with the intention of raping her. She would have laughed had she not been too terrified to utter one word at all. What did it matter if she was raped if she was going to die anyway?
Vi and George nearly pissed themselves when the door to the guest room swung open and the bleak faces of Rona and two other slayers appeared. The three girls stood at the doorway, mouths agape, at the very intimate event they had just interrupted. They had just been sent to find the redheaded slayer after hearing of the disappearance of two of their own. The entire area surrounding the Firewell manor was to be searched thoroughly by orders of Buffy and Faith and every slayer here was needed to do it. That included the ones who were otherwise preoccupied.
"Jesus Christ, Rona! Close the fucking door!" Vi screamed, pulling the blanket up further to cover herself and her boyfriend, both of whom were completely nude.
"Um, hurry it up and get dressed, will ya? We've got a situation," Rona explained, her dark hand moving up to shield her eyes as she groped about for the door handle. She finally grasped onto it and slammed the door shut.
"What?" Vi asked, still gasping for breath after her previous activities.
The three slayers stood on the other side of the door, eyes wide in shock before giggles overcame them in spite of the dire situation Rona had spoken of.
Buffy felt that this was all, in some way, her fault. Hermione and Jordan were her responsibility and now the two were missing, presumably abducted by Voldemort or some other foe. Misery is a gift that just keeps on giving, especially to those favored by Murphy's Law.
After hearing Ron tell her of Aidan'sbelief of something happening to his twin and that she had supposedly been walking about in the woods with Hermione, she had instantly jumped to action. Word was immediately sent to the Order of the Phoenix including Dumbledore. One might think it odd to base all of their worries on the words of a sixteen-year-old boy, but Buffy knew not to doubt Aidan's word when it came to his sister
While she did not completely understand the link between brother and sister, she knew it was a valid one. Mr. and Mrs. Firewell had assured Buffy and her gang of the legitimacy of the link between twins in their family. After all, the husband and wife had a twin brother each and attested to the strength of the link. It would seem twins ran heavily in the family, on both sides.
She rubbed her temples tiredly as her sister slayer approached her, carrying something in her hands. Faith's face was distraught and her dark brown eyes were troubled as she held up the pieces of a wand.
"Ron found this and it shook him up quite a bit. I told Dawn and Harry to take him inside and get him something to drink. He can't go on for much longer before he loses it," Faith imparted to her partner, her voice tightly controlled.
Buffy murmured, "Oh, no. Hermione's wand." She took the fragments from the dark-haired slayer and clenched her fists over them. Buffy felt everything within her quail at the implications this broken wand was representing.
Hermione was a brilliant witch, especially for one so young in age. Her wand was like another extension of herself; her very right hand in fighting evil. She performed well enough with stake and sword, but put her wand in her hand and you would end up on the losing end of the battle for sure. To find it on the ground, broken in half, with its owner nowhere to be found was very disheartening.
Buffy looked over her shoulder to see Ron being supported by her sister and Harry. The tall redhead was walking between them with their arms each holding onto one of his arms. She could see, from far off, the figure of Ginny walking towards the trio to give comfort to her brother. Although she could not see his face, she could very well imagine the expressions that would be on there. She shook her head despondently and sighed, "Poor kid."
Faith nodded in agreement and rubbed at her eyes. "Spike and Angel are tracking the girls by scent, but they say it's very unlikely they're still here if they haven't found anything by now."
"Shit," Buffy muttered, running her hands through her hair. "How could this happen, Faith? Right under our damn noses?"
Faith just shook her head while murmuring, "I don't know, Buffy. I don't know." You knew it was a very bad situation when Faith called Buffy by her actual name rather than by the first letter. "Why was it just those two? Why not some other girls? Why not Harry, himself?"
Buffy drew in a deep breath and rested her head in her hands for a moment before lifting her eyes up to meet Faith's. "It's obvious, isn't it? What is it that makes Jordan and Hermione so unique among our group?"
Faith frowned at what Buffy was implying and said, "You don't think…I mean, if that's true, then we'd better warn the other twenty-five slayer-witches."
Before Buffy could give her agreement and head in to do just that, she heard the frantic voice of Andrew as he ran towards the two women, standing upon the rock outcropping. The young man's voice was evident of severe distress and subject to immediate attention.
"Buffy! Buffy! Faith!" Andrew yelled, his left hand enclosed around scraps of paper.
"Andrew, what's wrong?" Buffy asked, her brow creased in concern.
"These messages just arrived by owl. Six other slayer-witches have been reported as missing. One has been missing for over twenty-four hours," Andrew explained, handing the missives to Buffy.
Faith stood behind her while the two pairs of eyes skimmed over the cursory, but disturbing information. Both senior slayers felt their blood chill to deadly levels as the full horror of the situation was finally being shed the light it was due. Way overdue.
"She's been missing for twenty-four hours and we're just getting this information now?" Buffy exclaimed in shock.
"She was with her watcher for one day before going back home for Christmas holiday. When she didn't show up the next day, the family went to investigate and the found the watcher nearly dead on the floor and the girl missing," Andrew told them.
"Son of a bitch," Faith mumbled. "We need to warn the rest of them."
"Way ahead of you. I already sent messages via email to those with watchers and told them to send word to the others who didn't have actual watchers. I also sent them messages by owl. I told the other guys to go ahead and send word cuz they might get theirs ahead faster. Now we just gotta wait for the response and see who's still with us," Andrew informed the two.
Buffy's and Faith's eyes widened, clearly impressed with Andrew's quick deductions. There was no denying it now; Andrew had just made himself an integral member of the Scooby gang. The former Evil Trio member had steadily been worming his way into the coveted places of the hearts of the Scoobies and they had warmed up to him a great deal over the months since Sunnydale had been destroyed. He and Xander had forged a tentative friendship; bonding over the demise of Xander's ex-fiancée, which Andrew had been the sole one to witness.
"Damn, now I remember why we signed you on to the team," Buffy said.
"Yeah, good job, Nerdo," Faith praised.
Andrew gave them a small, appreciative smile, but it fell as quickly as it had appeared when he saw the approach of Spike and Angel. The two grim-faced vampires were walking slowly up the hill and Buffy had a sinking feeling that what they were going to say she wasn't going to like. Nope, she decided she wasn't going to like it at all.
"Buffy, I really don't like the looks on their faces," Faith noted, her voice sounding hollow and dry.
"Neither do I," Buffy said. She sighed and walkedover to meet her two former lovers.
Angel and Spike had managed to put aside their little dispute in order to perform their more important duties of the moment. They had both scoured through the lands surrounding the manor using their preternatural sense of smell to try and find the two missing slayers. As much as they and the two elder slayers they were reporting to wanted to deny it, their search had obviously been fruitless.
"They're not here, Buffy," Angel reported morosely. His large forehead was creased more than usual and his face was permanently frozen into its pale, grim expression it seemed. His dark brown eyes were darkened and shadowy with concern.
"And, um, you're not going to like this, love," Spike began hesitantly, his baby blue eyes glancing at Buffy apologetically.
Buffy drew in a sharp breath, afraid that one of the two vampires had sensed that something far more sinister than abduction had occurred. Abduction was as far an explanation as any of them were willing to go because anything more would be too much to handle and it would have been a bit too premature. She exchanged wordless glances with Faith and Andrew before nodding to Spike to go ahead.
"Well, we tracked Hermione's scent to where the wand was foundand as far as we can tell, that's as far as she went into the woods. So, I'm guessin' she was whisked out of here by some hocus-pocus, if you catch my meaning," the blonde vampire told her grimly.
"What about Jordan?" Andrew pointed out confusedly. "I thought she was with Hermione."
Angel shook his head, running a hand through his dark brown hair and rubbing the back of his neck. He took a deep, unneeded breath before continuing Spike's explanation. "If Hermione was out here with someone, it wasn't Jordan. We couldn't find a trace of her scent in any part of the woods recently. A lot of other people's scents…well, demons, vampires, and people, but not hers."
"What?" Faith stammered in disbelief. "Then that means either Fleur didn't see what she thought she saw or…"
"Hermione was walking around with an imposter leading her to a trap," Buffy finished, her lips thinning as she counseled herself to remain calm and posed though her entire body yearned to beat something to a bloody pulp.
"If Jordan wasn't the one Hermione was with, then what happened to her? She couldn't have been in her room the whole time…I mean, she would have been able to do something if someone tried to take her, couldn't she?" Andrew pointed out.
Spike then let out a hissing sigh and kneaded his forehead, his hand passing over his scarred eyebrow, a white line through the dark line of hairs above his eye. "Jordan's mum said that when she last checked on her she had a fever of 103 degrees and was out cold. Her grandmother had been about to take some infusions up to her to help bring down the fever right when we all discovered she and Hermione were gone."
"Oh shit," Faith muttered, dragging the favored curse word out. If Jordan was that ill and had not been given any medication, then she was in more danger than they previously believed.
Buffy nearly exploded when she heard that information. All the terrifying revelations and the possibility of adding two more casualties under her supposedly firm hand had finally made her lose that one last ounce of strength to keep control "You're telling me, not only have two of our girls been kidnapped, but one of them has a high fever, which is quite possibly steadily going higher as we stand here chatting? How the fuck did this all happen? Aren't there any goddamned wards on this place? Mr. and Mrs. Firewell are aurors for crying out loud! You would think they would have some security!"
Faith tried to lay a calming hand on her counterpart, but Buffy was not to be quieted so easily. She continued to rant on until her voice grew hoarse. "And what the hell is up with this faulty communication? Six slayer-witches are already missing and we just find out now! Hell, for all we know, they're all probably gone…for good! What the hell kind of an operation am I trying to run, huh?"
"Buffy—" Angel said, holding his arms up in a placating gesture. He laid his large hands on her shoulders only to have them violently shrugged off by theenraged slayer. She walked off in a circle for a moment, her hand clasped to her forehead while tears formed in her blue-green eyes. It was all happening again…people were being hurt because of her lack of responsibility. Innocent girls had been taken under her watch because she couldn't protect them. Just like she couldn't protect all those poor potentials that had stayed at her house; those young, scared girls who were viciously killed under her protection.
"Buffy, don't. Don't blame yourself for this. None of us saw it coming and I'm just as responsible for all these girls' lives as you," Faith said sternly.
"Yeah, sure as hell weren't so understanding the last time people started getting hurt on my watch," Buffy snapped bitterly. She overlooked the fact that Faith hadn't really been at fault for what had happened between her friends and her after the disaster with Caleb. Faith had not meant for Buffy to be kicked out of her own home and to assume control of the crew when she felt so supremely unqualified.
Buffy stood still for a while, breathing in and out in a repetitious steadiness, trying to attain a degree of stability before continuing on with what she needed to do. She needed to be focused and tranquil in order to be of any use to Jordan and Hermione or her friends for that matter. They couldn't have a leader who was feeling like she was about to collapse from everything at once. She sorely wished her mother were here to give her the loving guidance she really needed. At least, she had Giles, which was a great respite.
At length, she returned to where the other four were waiting patiently and looking at her with concerned eyes. They were unsure of what to say or do at the moment for fear of sparking another precarious bout of slayer ire. But they were soon assured of their safety when Buffy apologized for her momentary fit and proceeded to lay out a crude map of what they had to do in order to get those girls back alive.
She was like an alabaster statue of a Greek goddess standing there in front of her carefully guarded makeshift fortress with an array of armed vampiric and demonic guards encircling her within their cloak of protection. She wore a jet-black gown that exposed her pallid arms and hugged her luxuriant curves in a snug fashion to leave many of her male workers bright eyed while lustful fantasies swam about in their heads.
Her raven hair hung down slightly past her shoulders as if in credit to the more modern hairstyles and she twirled a long strand of it coyly around a long, pale finger decked with a sharp, blood red nail. Her mouth, so deceptively delicate, curved up into a smile of pure deviance when her sharp eyes saw what several of her servants were bringing her.
The form of a struggling teenaged girl with bushy brown hair, fair skin dotted with goosebumps, and crazed chocolate brown eyes was dumped rudely onto the ground right before the vampire woman's feet. She lifted the girl's chin up and grinned at her, causing the girl to quiver in fear.
"The stars sung to me and told me I can find my lucky number thirteen right here. It's you, pretty one, you're my lucky number thirteen," the vampire woman cooed, her lilting voice wrapping the girl in a cloak of captivation. "Oh, we're going to have so much fun! Maybe I'll make you like me and we can be sisters! And then we can have fun forever! Would you like that, Lucky Thirteen?"
Hermione managed to mentally free herself from the thrall, thankful the drug did not inhibit the strength of her mind as well as her limbs. She clenched her teeth and controlled her breathing to try and expose as little of her fear as possible. It was kind of stupid really since vampires could smell fear from a mile away. She tried to avert her gaze from the vampire woman, Lady Drusilla the man had called her, and her fathomless black eyes which seemed to ensnare one's very soul for the keeping.
She knew now for sure that this was the very same Drusilla who was part of the vampire quartet called the Scourge of Europe. She was the childe of Angelus, grandchilde of Darla, and the sire of William the Bloody, better known as Spike. Memories of the tales Dawn and the gang from Sunnydale had told her of this mad woman raised such a terror within Hermione she could practically feel it careening down her veins like a car gone out of control on a highway. If she doubted before that she was truly going to die soon, they were now shattered to pieces under the piercing gaze of the powerful vampire. The worst part about all this was she doubted her death was going to be anything but peaceful.
She barely registered being dragged to her feet and forced to walk the rest of the way into the building, an old, crumbling compound it seemed. She wrinkled her nose at the acrid smell in the air as she was walked down the aisles between the doorways with barred windows where she fancied other prisoners were being kept. She winced at the sound of agonized screaming somewhere far off for the screaming had sounded much like it came from the mouth of a girl as young as herself.
Hermione was literally shoved into a small, cramped cell with a tiny window shedding scant moonlight that managed to penetrate through a break in the clouds on the area. She stumbled to the ground and scraped her hands against the rough floor as she heard the heavy, wooden door being closed and locked. She cried out in anguish at her predicament and slammed her fists down on the ground as she sobbed piteously in despair. She did not care that she was sixteen years old, a mature young woman far too old for screaming and crying. It was all she felt she was capable of at the moment since she was locked in here until her death sentence was carried out.
Her cries caught in her throat painfully when she finally realized she was not the only girl in here. Why her companion had made no sound to make her presence known, she did not know. When she got closer, she saw the girl was lying on her side with her front facing the wall away from Hermione. She appeared to be sleeping peacefully, but her breathing was very raspy and shallow sounding, making Hermione's tear-swollen eyes darken with concern. She crawled over to the girl and rolled her over onto her back to get a better look at her.
She gasped and cried out, while reeling back when she saw the familiar auburn locks plastered against the sweat soaked, ashen face as the moonlight illuminated her face. The eyes had the darkened, bruised look of one who was very ill and only becoming more so.
Hermione drew a shaky breath and smoothed the hair away from the face as she whispered in a cracked voice, "Oh my god. Jordan."
Jordan murmured something feverishly in her slumber, but did not awaken at the sound of her name. Hermione wondered if she had been awake at all since her mother had sent her up to bed. If she had indeed slept through her abduction and incarceration here, then this was worse than Hermione had believed. Touching her skin was like touching one of those fire-loving salamanders and it made Hermione's initial worries increase.
It was amazing what a sick friend could do to someone who had just a moment before lost all hope. From out of the depths of the abysmal nadir of despair, fortitude had suddenly flared up out of nowhere. Hermione steeled herself with determination after assessing the dim condition of her best friend lying before her. She now knew that she had to figure out some way to get out of here despite having lost both her slayer strength and her wand. There were a few things they hadn't taken from her, however, and they were her nearly insurmountable wit and intellect along with her inner strength and courage though she had thought them lost for a moment. She thought of Harry, her parents, the other slayers, and last but most certainly not least, Ron. She had to get through this for all of them because it could utterly destroy Harry if she was to be killed. And he was the most important factor in this war against Voldemort.
And she also knew she had to get through this for Jordan because the girl was, beyond all doubt, totally helpless right now as she lie there in her feverish coma. It was up to Hermione to save the both of them from torture and death. She just hoped she was up to the incredibly arduous task.
She lifted Jordan's head up into her lap and caressed the girl's face. She said softly, not knowing if the girl heard her or not, "I'll get us out of here, Jordan. I will, I promise you. I won't let them hurt you." She hoped her voice held more conviction in that sentiment than she currently felt.
Swishy Willow Wand: First off, lovely penname. Secondly, thank you. Thirdly, turkey, now you're making me wish it was Thanksgiving again.
Silver Warrior: Well, I've prolly noticed a plethora of obscure hints that make no sense whatsoever. My friend and I keep like a record of weird theories, even more so now that Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince is coming to stores in seven months. See, I'm very lax about the pairings I read or write about for that matter. I'm planning stories with a helluva lot of unorthodox pairings. I think the only limits I place on myself are the story must be marginally well-written (after all, we're all amateurs, aren't we?) and I won't read stories with pedophilic relationships in them or incest because that is just…gross. Sorry about the length between updates, I try.
Damia – Queen of the Gypsi's: Well, I can't cry in front of people either…well, I try not to cry in front of people. I don't know why I can't, but it does create complications. When something bad happens and I'm all…stony faced calm about it, people think I'm a bitch. Only my best friends can tell when I'm upset. But thanks for the kind words.
ztacel: Wow. I've done the same thing and it's so annoying to my siblings. It's kind of like me and good books…can't put the damn things down. I read The Da Vinci Code in one night and spent the next day at school half-asleep. Good thing we're on break, huh? Glad you like my characters. Ginny and Aidan's relationship has neither been decided upon nor established. Like you, I'm just going to have to wait to see how the plot develops.
Hidden in the Darkness: ::Grins evilly:: Man, you must be dying quite a lot for I've read lots of facfics where main characters have been killed off. But be realistic, would I kill in the middle of the story…or am I crazy enough to do that? You be the judge.
Wanderingsoul24: Well, in this fic, Bill and Fleur were technically not together though he obviously wanted more. And I loved Bill too. Xander is my favorite BtVS character and he doesn't need super powers to be my hero. You'll have to wait and see about the Aidan and Ginny thing. Mmmmm….Spike. Sorry, drifted off there for a moment.
Chrios: Well, I like Remus/Tonks as well. I mean, if it's strictly HP-verse he's a good guy for her. But I also love the Willow/Tonks relationship. It's all good.
Thanks also to Saxifrage for reviewing.
One more thing: I'll be working on some mass revisions of the first thirty or so chapters (mainly the beginning ones). The reason I'm doing it and not a beta is because when I revise and check for mistakes and whatnot, I always end up adding details or taking away details and I'm pretty much the only one who can do that. All the mistakes from the beginning were beginning to bug me. There won't be any major changes, strictly minor since the story is too far in to try and change the plot for the outside in, if you know what I mean.