Disclaimer: I only own Xan and the specifics of the plot.

Author's Note: I was just doing a layout and I realized there are only about two chapters left of part one. Yes, part one. There are two parts then I am planning a sequel. Perhaps I am releasing too much information. Anyway, as always, I greatly appreciate all the reviews and support. Now that I can see the hits on this story, I smile a great deal. These next couple chapters are a bit serious but I hope you enjoy all the same.

Chapter Fifteen: A Rock and a Hard Place

I smoke way too much. You may ask how it is only now that I have discovered this but actually, after I played that stupid game of tag, my chest felt like it was going to explode. It was worth it though, not that I would do it again any time soon. I might stop smoking one day but for now, a pack a day is all the keeps me sane.

The CWC (a.k.a. Order of the Pheonix) declared Lucius Malfoy's temporary hitching of corporate horses was an illegal merger so two weeks ago I was declared CEO. How disgusting is that? I am what, 17 years old and the CE-bloody-O of a multibillion dollar corporation. To make it all more awkward, my uncles didn't want me to leave school, said it would make us look desperate. I get about an elephants worth of mail everyday and no sleep.

Malcolm's death had changed the lot of us and while many of us weren't thinking of it (bloody hell I hardly had time to think about how much I missed Harry) we all had a way of dealing with it. I threw myself into work, school and smoking. I also found myself sleeping in the common room because Pansy and Dolohov had made our dorm room their own little playpen (Their way of dealing with it all). Draco, Blaise and Morgan Moon were on the quidditch pitch almost every moment they weren't working on homework or in class. Daphne hung around with Avery and Theo while the latter got pissed nearly every night.

Today, Sunday, I walked into the boardroom a half an hour before I had a meeting with Lucius and his people discussing a possible partnership. Upon entry, I found Lucius and Snape standing close to one another and talking quickly.

"Alexandra!" Lucius exclaimed, breaking away from his conversation and striding towards me. These past two weeks have been strange because while Lucius Malfoy had always been a sort of uncle (seen as a future father in law) since my father died he has been extremely protective and affectionate towards me. I know what you are thinking, Lucius Malfoy, affectionate? But I am quite serious. While I am sure it is all for corporate gain, doesn't change the fact that I am getting more attention than his son has in seventeen years.

I greeted Snape as well. The potions master really has his work cut out for him. Dumbledore had been less than pleased when he found out I had accepted the leadership position in my company and the only way I was to get off campus would be for Snape to come with me. That leaves him with much less time to grade and way more involvement with my life than I think he wants.

Once the meeting started, Lucius slid the official documents towards me from the other end of the table. "Why are you proposing this merger, Mr. Malfoy?" I began, using a voice that wasn't really mine and formalities that weren't real.

"In that folder Miss Marlow, I included calculations that indicate that if we combined we shall reach global mass sprawling through a dozen markets which is unrivaled by all our opponents."

This is what my life is. Woopedee-fucking-doo.

I got back to school during the middle of dinner. When I entered the common room I didn't expect to see anyone and was caught a little offguard by Blaise Zabini staring at me from an overly cushioned leather chair. "Hey," I greeted. I threw my bag aside and collapsed onto the couch beside his chair. "Why aren't you at dinner?"

"Not hungry." He replied absently sliding me a couple of rolls of parchment.

I regarded them with a disgusted expression while I lit up a cigarette. "Those better not have the word 'merger' written anywhere in them."

"Copied the transfiguration homework."

"I love you."

Blaise doesn't eat much anymore. I've noticed this. He seems to drink more firewhiskey than ever, smoke more than I do and believe it or not, consume himself in books. I am not suggesting he is out of his right mind for I have seen nothing to suggest such but something is going on within Blaise Zabini that frankly I just don't have the energy to think about.

"How is the bathroom?" Blaise asked out of nowhere. He tapped his ash into the flowers on the coffee table and sucked in another drag so hard that his cheeks lost color.

"Stains still aren't gone," I said, exhaling as though it brought me relief. "I don't go in there anymore."

"Unnerved by death?"

"More like grossed out by the sounds of Pansy and Dolohov having sex."

"That would do it for me too."

"Why do you ask?"

"I think we should talk to Eleanor."

I pulled the cigarette from my mouth and turned to him. "Why on earth would we want to do that?"

"People just don't kill themselves, Xan!" Blaise shouted, grabbing a fistful of hair and jerking it out. "They don't just decide to give up because of one bloody homophobic incident! There –" Blaise choked on the smoke as he exhaled. His eyes watered as he got out the words, "There has to be more to it than that."

You know how I said once people are broken in a certain way, they can never be fixed? When I look at Blaise Zabini, I can see the stitches holding him together. I can't let someone else around me fall apart. No, I am not getting sappy, goody-goody or moral. If everyone fell apart who would be left to hold me together?

Out of all of our sorry souls I trust my own the least.

"There was something more too it," I said, chain-lighting another cigarette. I focused intensely on the orange light. "Before I tell you though, I need you to promise me something."

"What?" he growled, harshly snatching another cigarette from the carton.

"Promise me you will hold it together until you reached your desired conclusion."

"Done."

I exhaled and relayed what I knew. God, I haven't done this in a while. "Malcolm was getting letters for a couple weeks from someone under the seal of the C.W.C. asking him to join the Dark Lord. You know, become a spy or something. He went to Dumbledore about it."

Blaise gave me this look as though I was holding the secret to the Holy Grail. I rolled my eyes. "You promised, Blaise."

"Yeah, yeah," he growled, putting out his cigarette in the flower pot. "Come on, we really do need to talk to Eleanor."

"Do you have any idea what you are going to say to her?" I asked as he got to his feet and dusted the ash off his clothes.

"Somewhat."

"Well then do you at least have a wet rag?" I followed him as he marched to the portal.

"Why would I need that?"

"You saw what she did to Malfoy's face."

Blaise didn't acknowledge the dark humor in my remark as he usually does. Usually implying before Malcolm. I would shorten it to B.M but that isn't any more plesant.

You know, the slytherin commons is rather far away from all the others in the school. I have always commended the walk to everywhere in this bloody school for helping keep me in shape but if I didn't know any better (and I do) I would have thought Blaise had teleported us in front of the hufflepuff commons. Yes, we got there that fast.

Blaise suddenly started pounding on the portrait leading to the hufflepuff commons, shouting for Eleanor to come out. I would have considered telling him to calm down had I not been so irriated with how difficult it was to light a cigarette.

While the woman in the portrait was busy shrieking at Blaise to stop shouting, another woman in another painting addressed me. "What on earth has gotten you slytherin folk so worked up?" I love how she said slytherin folk as though it were an ethnic minority.

"He's on his period," I blew smoke in her direction and she coughed. Stupid paintings.

You know when you look back on your day, week, life and remember certain events but cannot for the life of you remember how they transitioned from one to the other? I have that experience when I looked back on this day.

I don't remember how we got into the Hufflepuff common room but we did. I don't exactly remember how Eleanor Baddock and Blaise got into a screaming match, but they did. I remember thinking of how much she looked like her brother. She would have been better looking had she been a boy.

Come to think of it, I don't even remember what started Blaise on his rampage of destroying the common room and taking out a first year. I do remember distinctly how he used about seven what I like to call destruction spells that could get him suspended; how Eleanor Baddock was screaming; how Blaise was taken to the infirmary by teachers because he was 'mentally unwell'. But to be honest I was too busy staring down a tall, blond seventh year who was trying to blend into the curtains.
When all the teachers arrived on the scene, they were too busy trying to control Blaise to do anything to me except shout detention. Man Blaise really tore up that room. I should have known promises don't mean anything.

The blond hufflepuff tried to slip out of the common room and past the teachers but I was far too fixed on him to just let him run off. I ran after him. It must have looked pathetic; a girl shouting after some fellow running up staircases fullspeed. Did he even know who I was? I certainly didn't remember him from anything, and that's saying something.

I just barely made it onto the same staircase as he just when it began to move. "Bloody hell," I said putting my hands on my knees. "You don't even know what I want and you on the other side of the bloody school!"

"What do you want from me?" he asked, looking down at me defensively.

"What do you think I want?"

"I don't know anything about Malcolm so go away!"

"Why would I think you knew anything about Malcolm Baddock?"

His face fell (silly hufflepuff) and the staircase locked. He looked over his shoulder, as if decided whether or not to take off. "Please," I said, walking up to him slowly. "My name is Alexandra Marlow. What is yours?"

He sneered quite well. I was surprised. "I know who you are."

"Oh really?" I said, keeping a pleasant expression and tone. "How?"

His expression quivered and I knew he didn't have it in him to lie. "You came up a lot."

I quickly put two and two together, now that I had air in my lungs. "You're Logan, aren't you?"

"Logan McCarthy."

"Pleasure. Well now that we are aquainted perhaps you could help me. I am wondering if Malcolm –"

"What do you care about him?" he shouted, storming off into the corridor. "You didn't care about him!"

I chased after him. "McCarthy!"

He suddenly stopped and faced me, he looked about as distraught as Blaise. "You didn't care about him and yet –"

"Calm down, McCarthy," I said, firmly holding my ground despite the insults. "Malcolm might as well have been a brother to me. I want to know why he died. Is there somewhere we can talk?"

"I don't know anything."

"Oh I think you do."

Logan was quiet for a while before saying, "We can use the prefect bathroom." I could have made a great comment but I bit my tongue. I was on extremely fragile ground with an extremely fragile person. Not a good combination.

Looking back, I really think that the only reason I was able to get Logan to talk to me at all, was because of the timing. He had needed to organize his own thoughts and feelings about all that had happened; I just happened to be there asking the right questions.

Well it all began shortly after the holidays. Malcolm had met Logan by accident when he was exiting a hufflepuff conquest. Logan wasn't a fellow very gifted with words but despite his fumblings and misuse of grammatical structure, I had no trouble following his tale of two souls helplessly caught up in one another.

Apparently their intimacy had started to scare Malcolm shortly before my bet with Blaise and Theo began. Come to think of it that was about the time he ran stark naked around the pitch. Malcolm tried to scare Logan away by sleeping with other girls and there were countless fights but somehow they stayed with eachother.

"He talked about you all a lot," Logan said, now staring at his wringing hands. "He would muse about what you all would think of the great playboy Malcolm Baddock being, you know, with a bloke."

"He had a right to muse," I said, knowing exactly what we all would have said.

"There would be nights when all he could talk about was what he wanted to do with his life. He would go on and on about you slytherins and he imagined you should do and . . ."

"What did he say I should do?" call me crazy but I was interested.

Logan thought for a moment then stared at me for a little while prior to answering. "He said you were too sharpwitted for your own good. I distinctly remember him saying he thought you should run off and train dragons or become a sailor."

That's an amusing thought, Alexandra Marlow, CEO of Marlow Enterprises as a grubby dragon trainer, shimmying up ropes and shipping vicious beasts all around the world. I actually laughed. "Please tell me he said something similar for Draco Malfoy."

A sour expression came over Logan's face. "Malcolm said the only hope for that git would be to run off to another continent. He doesn't seem brave enough to do that though."

I chuckled at the thought.

"What made all this stand out in your mind?" I asked. Everything else he was telling me sounded iffy and unconfident.

"It was the night he told me about the letters he had been getting."

I looked at him with interest boiling out of my eyeballs. "What did he say?"

"Look I don't know much!" he said, backing away as though my gaze was harmful. "All he said was that he was scared for you all and that he wasn't going to give up or give in." Logan fell still and looked very sad. "He said he would die before he let anything happen."

I got to my feet and walked towards Logan who looked like he expected me to hex him. I looked him in the eye for a good thirty seconds before I asked slowly. "Do you know what Malcolm did with the letters?" I was praying that he hadn't burned them.

Logan thought for a moment. "I –he—we . . .Look in the owlry . . ."

"Thank you," I was about to leave when he said.

"But there are um . . . other things that he might have well . . . hidden and . . ."

"McCarthy, I don't care about your love letters. All I want is to find out why."

Logan nodded. "Can you do me a favor?"

"Anything, it would be a fair trade."

"Don't ever talk to me again."

"Huh?" that was a little. . . weird. "Am I really that much of a lochness monster, McCarthy. You seem to know me well enough through all Malcolm said."

"That's right," he said looking at me as though I wasn't some heir or some snarky gossiper. "I spent seven years avoiding people like you, Malcolm and Zabini who like to make waves. Just let me keep my memories of Malcolm as I have them."

I studied him for a moment. "Do you think I came here purely to tarnish them?"

"Isn't that what you people do?"

I walked out of the prefect's bathroom. I should have thanked him, after all it was a stroke of luck to have gotten so much out of him. But really, that comment had killed the mood. I found myself running up the stairs to the owlry at increasing speed hoping that if I got there quick enough, the fact that I am an awful person wouldn't catch up with me.

I reached the owlry and found myself alone save the thousands of pairs of eyes staring at me. Now what the bloody hell was his bird's name? Bertrude? Bernard? Balthazar? "Barnaby!" I shouted, the name suddenly gracing me. A hundred owls were instantly disturbed by my outburst and I covered my head to avoid getting hit with owl droppings.

One particular owl hooted close to me. It was regal with spots that reminded me of Malcolm's scattered tastes. Then it hit me… how the fuck did I expect to find these letters?

"Alright, Barnaby," I said, looking straight at the owl. "I need you to—" I stopped short when I realized I was talking to an owl about a complex subject.

I stood there for a moment with my lips pursed. I couldn't just accio letters. That would be silly—I would be hit with far too many! But maybe . . . I pulled my wand from my robes and aimed it at Barnaby. "Accio Dark Mark," I whispered.

Nothing happened.

"Bollocks."

Suddenly, something hit me from behind. I spun around and found the seal of a letter staring up at me. It was sealed with the Dark Mark. Wait—sealed? As in it wasn't opened?

Before I could go farther on that train of thought, a stream of letters came shooting out towards me from a cranny in the stone wall. I blocked my face with my arms and turned away. The owls went into a complete frenzy and I prayed I wouldn't get knocked in the head or anything.

When I felt everything settle down, I lowered my arms and looked around. I was standing in a sea of letters. I collapsed to my knees and grabbed at them, searching for a name. They all carried the unbroken seal of the Dark Mark. I looked at letters a fistful at a time, specifically at the addresses. But there was one thing that bothered me.

They were not addressed to Malcolm. Not a single one.

In fact, each was addressed to someone different.

I knew every person.

I stared at the letters, each had By Care of Malcolm Baddock written on it. Frustration began to build in the depths of my being and I wanted to scream. Confusion. For the first time in my life I was really confused.

I gathered up the letters and tried to think of what Malcolm must have done. He would have been confused at who was sending them. He wouldn't have just hid them right off the bat. He would have had to think about what they were, what they could do if people found them. He would have gone to his dorm.

My confusion subsided as a plan landed upon me. The next step was his dorm.

I was very careful about going to his dorm. I didn't want to have to explain myself to anyone. It worked out quite well actually. Blaise was in the hospital wing and the other two boys in Malcolm's dorm were at quidditch practice, along with Draco. Everyone else was doing something with their lives I suppose which left the place rather quiet.

I climbed onto his old bed, trying to ignore the awkward feeling in the back of my mind. I dumped the letters onto the mattress. It had been difficult to carry all of them. I wonder if it had something to due with the fact that there is about fifty of them? I hope my sarcasm isn't misleading.

Anyway I laid the letters out and examined them. At first I simply assumed they were all addressed to slytherins but upon more intense brainstorming, I recognized a couple names from Ravenclaw.

What was the bloody connection? Why were these many kids getting letters from Deatheaters and more over, why did Malcolm get them to give to all of us? Money? No—I can only think of a handful of kids that actually have access to funds. I could think of plenty of house things that would connect kids of age but first years and ravenclaws were addressed!

I took deep breaths as I tried to compose myself. I was ripped out of my state of calm by Pansy's shrill cry. "Xan! Xan Marlow! Xan!"

"Yes mother?" I called as I stuffed the letters under the covers and went to the stairwell. She must have alerted everyone in the entire bloody dorms.

Two parcels came sailing towards me. "Get your own bloody mail!" she shouted.

I snatched them up and sent a sour expression down the stairs. "If you weren't so enthusiastic about being Dolohov's wanton then maybe I would get the chance to pick it up."

I heard her gasp of shock but she didn't dare get into a battle of wits with me. At least I had something going for me. Her last comment was, "At least keep the bloody birds away from our windows!"

"Send them over here," I called as I shut the door.

I walked back to the bed and examined what I had received by owl. First of all was a large envelope from Lucius Malfoy. Merger papers, woopdedoo. The second was—

I froze.

By Care of Owl

Miss Alexandra and Mr. Draco

Marlow-Malfoy

The Dark Mark sealed the letter. I fled. But not before tucking all the other letters safely under Malcolm's bed.

I didn't know where I was going really. I just was having another mental –what's the word—event? Well, whatever was going on with me, it caused me to trip on the stairs. The letter flew out of my hand. I snatched it up off the stone as quickly as I could, not caring if I looked like a lunatic.

The edge was ripped.

I sucked in a deep breath. My fingers slowly began to act on their own accord. I dashed into the girls bathroom when I realized that I wasn't going to be able to stop myself from tearing open the letter. I should have probably not opened the letter in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom but hey, I was distraught.

I trembled with every word of elegant script. I was scared out my bloody mind and I didn't understand why. I had to show Draco. I wanted to tell someone—no, I needed to tell someone. I wanted to wonderboy but—

"Xandra?" I looked up sharply, only one person in the world calls me that.

"H-Harry," I said regaining myself. "What are you doing in the girls loo?"

"Looking for Hermione," he said with a slight blush.

But I couldn't tell him. Not unless I wanted to be crucified by aurors.

"She isn't here, am I good enough?"

"Oh it wasn't anything like that."

"Golden Trio stuff?"

"Yeah, yeah laugh your bloody arse off," Wonderboy said with a roll of the eyes. He chuckled, "Come on, would you are for a walk?"

"Why not?"

I strolled next to Harry Potter for a couple of corridors without saying anything. I prayed to god I wouldn't lose control over myself like I tended to do sometimes around the bloke, that would be disastrous. The wanker had a way of making me forget myself.

"So what's new?" he asked. "Feeling better?"

"Better than Blaise," I said with a snort. Oh hell here I go.

"Hermione told me what happened."

"She would know. Does she have a lot of friends in hufflepuff or something?"

I looked up and met his weird glance. "What does hufflepuff have to do with this?"

My eyebrows lifted. "Aren't you referring to how Blaise single-wandedly leveled the hufflepuff common room and knocked out a couple first years?"

"No . . ."he said slowly. "I was referring to how Hermione broke up with Blaise earlier today."

I blinked. Bloody hell. "Let me guess. He had a fit."

"Hermione just said he didn't take it very well."

I covered my face with my hands. "I don't fucking need this right now!" I promise you folks, I am officially entitled to a mental breakdown. One that allows me to fall apart, become a total bitch and have big exercises of power for at least six months.

"Come on," he said taking my hand and pulling me down the hall. "Let's take a walk. It always helps me when I am stressed."

"Isn't it past your bedtime?" I replied sarcastically. I do not enjoy being his sick puppy that he must take care of.

"Well if you're going to be that way about it. . ."

"Come on," I said starting to walk. "Bloody wanker." Wonderboy just grinned and followed in step.

"You know what's really strange?" Harry began after a minute or so of silence. "I didn't know you until just a couple months ago. Well, I mean I knew your name but not your face."

"Obviously," I said with a snort. "If I remember correctly you shoved me up against a wall."

"I did not!" Harry protested. "I would never do that to a girl!"

I rolled my eyes. "A couple months ago I wasn't a girl, slytherin slag is I think how you put it."

"People's thoughts change."

"Obviously."

"You can't tell me you still think of me as . . . well whatever you thought?"

I pondered that for a moment. He was still the same Harry Potter as I had hated literally a couple months earlier. So why didn't I still dislike him?

"I perceive you differently," I answered finally.

"What is that supposed to mean, perceive you differently?"

"Instead of a pain in the neck I can see you as a bloke with a cute arse." He blushed. "Oh come off it Potter, I can't be the first person to say that. Really Weasley must have had just the same thoughts.

He stopped suddenly and I looked around. "What's wrong?"

"This is the place where I threw you up against the wall," he said, looking around as well.

"One walks past here every day what's the big deal?"

Suddenly I found my back pressed up against the wall and the lips of Harry Potter were really close. "What better location to illustrate change," he said huskily. I didn't know he knew the word 'illustrate'. Maybe my word choice is rubbing off.

I probably should have had better sense then to snog him in a main corridor but I honestly wasn't thinking. If I had been, I would have had to realize how fucking ridiculous we both were being. It was far from love, that much is true, far from honest lust. What brought us together was a similar insecurity and discovery of something that made us both think otherwise.

I ran my fingers through his messy black hair and clawed at his back. Funny thing about certain people I have noticed; their fear, anger or relationship with violence is visible when things get hot. I bit his lip. Harry tilted my head back and started snogging/biting my neck.

Then I had the worst moment of my life.

I opened my eyes, previously shut with intensity, and found several kiddy-cop aurors staring at us. As though they were waiting for us to finish. I have never been so humiliated in my entire life. It all got worse when Snape came.

Sitting in his office by myself and having to deal with his glare of disappointment and anger; I wanted to show how terrible I was feeling but I wouldn't be a Marlow if I didn't that now would I? Just like I wasn't a Marlow for not having a problem with snogging a boy in the corridors.

"I had hoped you understood Miss Marlow the extent and significance of your current situation but this event only proves that you do not. You are no longer just another sixth year student Miss Marlow. You are the head of a company and have demanded to sit at the same table as men three times your age. If you want to wield the power you must accept all the responsibility."

"Excuse me, professor but how does have romantic relations interfere or have anything to do with my professional status?" I can talk the talk but from what Snape was saying, that wasn't good enough at this point.

"It is about image, Miss Marlow. But in this case, it is about who you are choosing to get involved with."

"That is my personal business."

"This may come as quite a shock, Miss Marlow," his voice getting stern. "But you no longer have any personal business. Your shareholders and your board have a say in everything. Your opinion is only taken into consideration. You chose this life Miss Marlow and there is now going back. This arrived for you," he slide a thick envelope across the desk towards me. Merger papers.

"While I don't understand how self respecting person could be attracted to Potter, I must stress that he is about as good for you as poison is to plants. I suggest you rethink your choices before the board rethinks them for you."
"May I go?"

"Yes."

Just before I was free from my humiliation, Snape had to add one more thing. "Miss Marlow, remember: because of Harry Potter you are in the situation you are in. If you decide to get help for your personal masochism, we can keep it confidential."

Those words swirled in my head as I found myself penning a late night request. Personal Masochism is there such a thing? Really is that what Snape thinks I am doing? He makes it seem as though I am wonderboy's plaything. As though I am a whore to the Order because I find it kinky! Fucking preposterous. I wasn't snogging Harry for that!

Then the question hit me. One my seventh cigarette under a moving staircase at 10:38 PM. What was I snogging him for?

But that was only apart of the reason I went through three more cigarettes before my guest of honor finally decided to answer my request. "Xan? What happened? You look . . ." I looked up just as I was chain-lighting another cigarette.

"Thanks for finally coming, Justin."

"You sent me an owl asking me to sneak out after curfew when there are people patrolling the halls; I got here as fast as I could."

"I had a run in with them already, hopefully I've maxed them out."

"What's going on?" he asked, his brown eyes boring into mine.

I stared into his eyes. While I trust it was the cigarette smoke messing with my vision, I swore I saw what I was looking for. "What if I told you that I am . . . that I have . . . stumbled upon something. Now this something is . . ." Justin stepped closer as he sense my seriousness—this wasn't just a late night booty call. "It is, I mean it can be very dangerous for me. Because you see, this knowledge—in the form of a letter…s…betrays everything I know and have grown to accept. Well, I suppose I should say what could do with it would betray all that. I asked you to come here and listen because I—I'm . . . scared." I broke eye contact and looked down at ugly mosaic of cigarette buds.

We were silent for a moment. Justin suddenly spoke with a soft confidence that I don't think I've heard before. "Sounds like you're stuck between a rock and a hard place." Or maybe I wasn't listening.

"Here's the thing that has me, well," I glanced down and I think that he got the idea. "I know someone on the opposite side of the fence. I don't know exactly what he would do with this information but it's the type of thing I am sure his side of the fence would want their hands on but also there is me and my life and –"

"What did your father do?"

It wasn't like Justin to cut me off (even though I was rambling). I didn't ask him down here for that!

"What in the bloody hell do you mean what did my father do? My father didn't kill himself because he and everyone he knew were getting letters from the Dark Lord!"

"How do you know?"

I glared at him. Truth be told I didn't know why my father killed himself that night. Hell, I wasn't even sure why Malcolm killed himself. I have an idea but that doesn't mean didily squat. You can't answer things with an idea! It just isn't finished like that!

And then I realized what I had wanted Justin to tell me. I wanted answers. I wanted closure. And I was going to get it less I be squished by the powers that be.

You know, I think I have finally figured out why I smoke—I really hate my life.

Author's Note:

Long chapter there for you all, I hope it was enjoyable. More on this two part issue. The next chapter will be the last chapter for part one and part two will continue on this thread so there is really nothing for you to worry about.

Part two will be a bit different from part one. This part came out less about romance and more about the circumstances that surround how we pursue relationships and how we connect with people. I say we because I believe stories are used to talk about ourselves to some degree. Anyway, enough with this literary talk, the point is the second part of this story will go deeper into the romantic side of things and I promise that there will be more points of view and characters explored. I know that these past chapters have really been hardcore slytherin POV. Anyway, see you all soon!