Rating: R for now. NC-17 chapters will be posted further along in the story except on those archives that do not allow explicit sexual content. A censored version will go in those places. Disclaimer: Nope, not mine. Summary: After the war, a free but disgraced Lucius Malfoy thinks he can repair his damaged reputation by aligning himself with the celebrated war hero, Hermione Granger. Author's Notes: This was originally written for the L/Hr FQF on Livejournal for which I accepted this challenge:
Lucius turned on Voldemort just before the last battle and his information helped win the war. Thus, he gained immunity from prosecution for his prior DE activities. However, he's lost both his wife and son in the war as well as any social standing he once had. Lucius believes that if he courts and marries the right woman he can gain back all that he's lost...therefore he chooses Hermione the war heroine as the 'perfect' spouse for such a situation and thus he begins an old-fashioned blue blood courtship of the girl. Imagine Hermione's shock.
Unfortunately, this story ran away with me and I was unable to meet the FQF deadline so it is not officially part of the fest. I have already written a large portion of this fic, about 70,000 words I think, and will be posting chapters at regular intervals. I have no set schedule as it all depends on how busy I am and/or my betas are but unless something drastic happens, a chapter will be posted at least every two weeks, a week if I can manage it.
Also, in case you missed it in the "Secondary Pairings" section, this fic contains slash of the Harry/Remus variety. It is nothing graphic and occurs mostly in the background but if you are bothered by slash or just Harry/Remus then I recommend skipping this fic.
I would like to also like to send a BIG THANKS out to Adie aka Sweet Witch for Brit picking and polishing up this fic! Any remaining mistakes are entirely my fault.
It goes without saying that this fic will be rendered utterly AU by HPB.
I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!
(and I promise my future Author's Notes will not be this damn long.)
xxxxx
"Are you sure this is the right place?"
"Yes," says Hermione Granger as she removes two large suitcases from the backseat of a maroon estate car. She pulls out her wand and two flicks and a swish later, their luggage shrinks to the size of dormice.
"This doesn't look like a fancy hotel," continues Doris Granger. She wrinkles her nose. "In fact, this looks like the sort of place a tart might take a man for a bit of hourly fun, if you catch my drift."
Hermione can't help but smile at her mother's assessment. However, Doris does have the right of it. Located in one of the seediest parts of London, the crumbling stone edifice before them is hardly what one expects of England's most exclusive Wizarding hotel.
But that is exactly what it is.
"Come along, Mum," Hermione says, scooping their luggage off the pavement. "We're quite late already."
Doris lags behind as Hermione walks towards the hotel.
"We're not leaving the car here, are we?" Doris asks, protectively clutching the car's bonnet with both hands. "Someone might take it!"
"It will be fine," says Hermione. "Haven't you noticed this particular street is completely free of people other than us? Muggles can't even see the hotel unless they are told it is here by a magical person."
Doris reluctantly moves away from the car and joins Hermione at the entrance.
They enter a huge, nearly barren lobby. Only a few tattered chairs, covered in what once was a fine gold brocade, are centered around a filthy, unused fireplace. The white-paneled walls are gray with grime and the wooden floor has obviously not been touched with a broom in years. A large chandelier hangs from the ceiling but affords poor light as its crystals are meshed into a fine network of dusty cobwebs.
Hermione squints, searching the darkness until her eyes land on the large reception desk. Behind the desk, a thin, old man with a bald head and tremendous muttonchops is hunched over a chessboard. Several of the disgruntled chess pieces are scattered at his feet, pulling at the hem of his trousers as they mutter angrily amongst themselves.
She taps lightly on the dust-covered, silver bell that lies on the desk.
The old man jerks and mumbles, "S'your move, Mackie."
"Hello?" prods Hermione, tapping the bell harder.
He lifts his head and stares at Hermione as if he can't believe his eyes.
"Goodness me!" he exclaims. "No one's used the Muggle entrance in years! Decades even!" His eyes widen even further and a large grin splits his face. "Hermione Granger! I recognize you from the Prophet! Heard much of your brave deeds." He leaps to his feet to vigorously shake Hermione's hand, nearly pulling it off in the process. "Jasper Smythe, Miss Granger! Very pleased to meet you. Very pleased, indeed!"
"Er - yes, likewise…" Hermione says, casting her mother a nervous look. "Is this where we check in?"
Mr. Smythe doesn't reply, continuing to beam at Hermione.
"Mr. Smythe?" Hermione fights to keep the impatience from her voice. "We are running quite late..."
"Oh! Of course! Of course!" Mr. Smythe nods indulgently and claps his hands together. "Mackie?" he booms. "Where are you, boy? We've got guests!"
A delighted squeal comes from behind and is followed by the patter of tiny feet. An excited house-elf appears before them. He wears a dark blue porter's uniform and his round flat cap is perched lopsidedly over one of his large bat-like ears. Hermione is pleased to see that he wears actual clothing, indicating that he is a free elf. She wonders if all the house-elves at the hotel are free but there simply isn't time to ask the questions.
"Mackie is happy to be of service," he says solemnly as he clicks his heels together and bends into a low bow. "Hasn't Miss and Madam some luggage for Mackie to attend to?"
"All taken care of," Hermione says, patting the coat pocket that contains their shrunken suitcases.
Mackie's face falls. His eyes are downcast as he tearfully mumbles to himself.
"You must forgive him, Miss Granger," Mr. Smythe says in a stage whisper. "It's been so long since he's had work."
After a moment's hesitation, Hermione reaches into her pocket and hands the suitcases to Mackie who cups then into his hands as if they were precious jewels.
"Mackie will take you to the other side," continues Mr. Smythe. "You'll check in there."
Mackie's back is stiff with pride as he leads them to the lift. Its doors are battered and as filthy as the rest of the place but the inside is clean and gleaming with ornate gold fixtures. The doors close of their own volition and not even a second passes before they open once more.
They step out into yet another lobby. This one sparkling and decadent, bedecked with luxurious blue silks and dark mahogany. It is an enormous space, with ceilings reaching higher than the eye can see. Statues of flirtatious, nearly-naked nymphs glide smoothly across the marble floor, offering refreshments to the hundreds of guests that crowd the area.
There is a flurry of activity as wizards and witches swarm around Hermione, to shake her hand or offer hearty congratulations.
Doris glows with motherly pride, yet is clearly confused at the adoration and fanfare.
Hermione anxiously tries to extract herself from the throng of people before Doris grows even more suspicious. She didn't think there would be so much attention and immediately regrets bringing her mother. Hermione hadn't much choice in the matter. Doris was present when the announcement and invitation arrived at the Granger's home in Cornwall and insisted on tagging along.
It is hard for Hermione to refuse Doris anything since the death of Reginald Granger. Hermione had often feared Death Eaters would target her Muggle family, but it was a heart attack that took her father, in the spring of Hermione's sixth year. Excepting an aunt in Bath, Hermione is the only family Doris has left. She has become exceptionally clingy since, frightened that she will lose her daughter as well.
Doris doesn't know how accurate her worries have been. She only knows the lies and half-truths Hermione has fed her over the years. She knows there was a powerful wizard named Voldemort who tried to take over the Wizarding world. She knows that Hermione helped bring him to justice and is now being awarded with the highest of Wizarding accolades: the Order of Merlin, First Class.
She doesn't know just how horrifying the war had been. She doesn't know her young daughter had fought on blood-drenched battlefields as too many friends and comrades were struck down around her. She most certainly doesn't know her daughter has killed, and on more than one occasion. Hermione pushes that particular thought out of her mind. It is not something she likes to think about. It is always a terrible thing to take a life, no matter how necessary it had been at the time.
Ten minutes later, Hermione has successfully freed them from the doting hordes and they approach the reception desk. The queue is incredibly long but Hermione and her mother are brought to the very front, passing the other, long-waiting patrons.
A beautiful middle-aged witch in cream-colored robes steps forward.
"Welcome to the Tuckin Hotel, Miss Granger!" she gushes. "It is an honor to have you and your mother stay with us. We have set aside one of our very best suites for you."
"Thank you," Hermione says as politely as she can manage. The Tuckin Hotel is a playground for the rich and Pureblooded. Hermione wouldn't have been very welcome at all a little while ago. And Doris, as a Muggle, would not have even been allowed on the premises.
Hermione hurries along the check-in procedures, and in short time, Mackie takes them to their suite. A large sitting area separates two bedrooms. Like the rest of the Tuckin Hotel, their rooms are lavish and richly decorated in the colors of autumn - Hermione's favorites. She doesn't think it's a coincidence.
In the center of the sitting room is a round table heaped with pastries and chilled goblets of pumpkin juice. An animated male statue, just like the ones below, stands near. His movements are fluid and graceful as he bows to the Granger women.
"I am Quintus," he says in a clear, lyrical voice. "I shall be your personal servant for the duration of your stay. It will be my pleasure to serve you in any way. In every way." Quintus leers at Doris, who stares at his monstrous set of genitalia, covered by a wholly inadequate fig leaf. "The leaf comes off," he adds with a wink.
"Does it?" Doris asks, grinning, and displaying far more interest than Hermione likes.
They avail themselves of the food and drink as Quintus puts away their things. Hermione feels the tension ease out of her body as she lounges on a settee. It is a great relief to be out of the public eye, away from the constant stares and deferential smiles. Hermione is hard pressed to believe that she once envied Harry for his fame. Now that she has got a taste of the limelight herself, she longs for the days when she was only known for being Gryffindor's resident swot.
Unfortunately, her respite is not to last. Tonight is the Opening Banquet, marking the beginning of what is to be a weekend's worth of festivities. Tomorrow it will be exactly one year since Voldemort was eradicated. The following months were spent rounding up his followers. The last, Rodolphus Lestrange, had been captured less than a month ago.
And now it is time for celebrations. The world is finally at peace. At least for the moment. Hermione has read the history books; she has seen the pattern. The history of the Wizarding world can be neatly divided by its eras of Dark Lords. One Dark faction falls, only to have yet another rise. It is merely a matter of time before war ravishes the world once more.
Hermione forces herself off the settee and into her bedroom. The Opening Banquet has already begun and she is very late. Despite that, she is slow in her preparations as she changes out of her Muggle attire and into a set of robes.
She doesn't want to be there. None of them do. She is very glad that the war is over but it isn't something she wants to celebrate. Not when there are so many who cannot.
Kingsley Shacklebolt, Fred Weasley, Hagrid, Professor Dumbledore…
All gone, among a host of many more.
The Ministry has all but badgered them into attending, resorting to blackmail in many cases. It won't be the same if they don't have their war heroes to parade about. Ultimately, it had been easier to give into Cornelius Fudge.
Hermione frowns, thinking of the man. It grates her every nerve that he is still Minister of Magic. A movement to remove him from office had widespread support in the summer after her fifth year, but in the end many were reluctant to make a change in power while at war. However, the elections draw near and Fudge knows his reign is sure to come to an end. He is not going out without a fight.
Fudge is desperate to regain the public's good favor. The overly ostentatious award ceremonies play a major role in his campaign. Anyone who has done as little as wag a finger in disapproval at a Death Eater is being rewarded in some way.
None are being honored as much as Harry, Ron and Hermione. They were the only ones present when Voldemort was finally vanquished. Of course, it was Harry who dealt the final blow, but it couldn't have been done without Ron or Hermione. They used their magic to fortify Harry's own.
When Hermione returns to the sitting room Doris announces she is too exhausted from the long drive to attend the banquet. Hermione is secretly pleased but feigns disappointment. Keeping her mother in the dark is paramount. The more Doris stays secluded from the Wizarding world, the better.
She avoids the more heavily populated areas as she makes her way to the banquet. It is held in a magically created space, bewitched to appear as the seaside. A fat, pale moon glimmers on the gently lapping waves of the enchanted sea. It was cold and misty when Hermione arrived at the Tuckin but here the air is warm and the night sky is clear, glittering with stars. Paper globes filled with fireflies float about, providing a soft, romantic light for the thousand attendees sitting at round tables.
A stout Ministry official with a large wart on the tip of his nearly nonexistent chin leaps upon Hermione when she enters. He babbles animatedly as he leads her to a long, rectangular table resting upon a dais. Seated at the table are those Hermione has come to regard as friends and family. All of them are members of the Order of The Phoenix. They had been the power players in the war.
They are not a happy lot. Frowns and grimaces all around except for Ron who is nattering to a very bored looking Nymphadora Tonks. He grins at Hermione as she is seated between him and Harry.
"There you are, Hermione! We were beginning to think you skived off."
"I should be so lucky," says Hermione. "Mum and I got lost on the motorway."
"You should have Floo-ed over."
"I've told you before, my mum hates traveling by magic."
"Where is Doris?" asks Mrs. Weasley, who sits further down the table.
"She was too tired from our drive to attend, thank God."
Mrs. Weasley murmurs in understanding. Hermione has enlisted her help in keeping Doris distracted over the weekend, away from all the talk of Voldemort and the war.
Ron tugs on Hermione's sleeve, to recapture her attention. "Have you heard the great news? They are talking about putting us in the next edition of the Chocolate Frog Cards. You, me and Harry!" Ron's face flushes with excitement. "Can you believe it? Me! Ronald Weasley! On a Chocolate Frog Card! I would just die!"
"You're going to die, all right," says Ginny, shaking her wand at Ron from across the table. "I'm going to Avada Kedavra you myself if you don't shut up." She gives Hermione a distressed look. "It's all he's been on about for days."
Ginny's threat has no effect on Ron's prattle. Hermione feigns interest as she scans the large gathering, looking for one face in particular. At long last she spots him, sitting at a table not even a hundred meters away. As if feeling her stare, Theodore Nott looks up. A small smile is exchanged before both turn away with a blush.
Theodore was the first and only Slytherin to join Dumbledore's Army, which had become an official school club and thus open to all of Hogwarts. He showed up at a meeting shortly after his father had been sentenced for life in Azkaban in their sixth year. Theodore, as Hermione would later learn, held none of his family's supremacist beliefs and with the elder Nott out of the way, he had been free to do as he wished.
Harry and Ron refused to trust him; certain he was only there to spy. They never got to know Theodore like Hermione has. In Theodore, she has found a quiet, clever friend whose love of learning matches her own. Many a night has been spent with him, discussing magical theories or the differences between the Muggle and Wizarding worlds. Hermione has always hoped that their relationship might turn into something more. They have certainly skirted around the issue numerous times, even going as far as to share a brief kiss. But with the war raging on, she could find no time for romance.
Hermione, it seems, is the only one afflicted with that particular problem. Everyone else has managed to find love amidst the battles. Ginny and Neville have come together and are planning to marry soon. Luna Lovegood's long-standing crush on Ron finally came to fruition just six months prior.
And with Harry came the biggest surprise of all.
Everyone knew he and Remus Lupin had become very close after Sirius' death, bonding with each other in their grief. No one realized just how close until a few months after Voldemort's demise when Remus was badly injured in a skirmish with a few rogue Death Eaters. Harry moved into to Remus' rooms at Grimmauld Place, presumably to take care of him. Weeks later, when Remus was completely healed, Harry didn't bother to move out.
Hermione hasn't completely wrapped her mind around the fact that her best friend is in love with a middle-aged werewolf. But they are happy. Hermione can see that as they lean in to intimately whisper to the other.
"Oy! Bend over and lift your robes!" exclaims Tonks, breaking Hermione's reverie. "Minister Fudge is coming to kiss our arses some more!"
A collective groan of annoyance sounds as Cornelius Fudge bounds towards them, a group of photographers and journalists chasing his heels.
xxxxx
The parcel arrives early on Saturday, wrapped in plain, brown paper, unceremoniously dropped on his head as he is about to take his morning tea. Only the large black owl flapping around the dining room in vain hopes of getting a treat is there to bear witness as Lucius Malfoy receives his Order of Merlin, Fifth Class.
It is the lowest commendation ever awarded to a Malfoy and is more of an insult than anything. Lucius certainly takes no pride in receiving it. Nonetheless, he still takes the medal to the trophy room and places it with the others. It looks small and insignificant next to the more impressive awards given to Malfoys over the centuries. Ironically, it is the only one honestly gained, having not been bribed or blackmailed from the Ministry.
A loud snicker comes from a large painting that hangs above the empty fireplace. The subject is turned, showing only the back of his sleek, blond head.
"Good morning, Uncle Titus," Lucius says dryly.
As expected, the portrait does not respond.
Titus is like the other family portraits. Each of them makes a grand show of turning their backs to Lucius as he moves down the long halls of Malfoy Manor.
Hypocrites, all!
How very approving his ancestors were in those early days of the war, when it looked as though the Dark Lord would prove victorious. But, it was the Light Side that came out the victor and now Lucius is a fool, an idiot for following some megalomaniac Halfblood.
The only portrait that does not shun Lucius is the one he wishes would ignore him the most.
Just as he had been in life, Draco Malfoy is eager for his father's attention. He leaps in and out of the other paintings following Lucius and crying, "Father! Father!"
Lucius quickens his step and pretends not to hear. Though he has often thought of destroying the painting that houses his son, just as he has done with Narcissa's, Lucius knows he'll never be able to do it. It is the only bit of Draco he has left.
It had been the murder of Draco that sparked Lucius into changing sides. The Dark Lord had Draco killed over what was a rather small transgression just before the end of it all. Narcissa, the weak-willed woman that she was, committed suicide in her sorrow. Lucius, on the other hand, sought revenge.
Without further thought, Lucius left the Death Eater's ranks to join Albus Dumbledore's precious Order. Lucius never wanted the Light side to win, but his need to see the Dark Lord completely obliterated surpassed any other desire. Lucius' eleventh hour decision not only helped achieve that end but had also prevented him from being persecuted for his war crimes.
If Lucius were a different man, he may have been happy with his current lot in life. He has his freedom and health, fairing much better than his former associates, all of whom are dead, Kissed, or imprisoned in Azkaban.
He even has his wealth, although only Lucius is aware of that fact. As they had done with all known Death Eaters, the Ministry seized the Galleons in his Gringotts account early on, to help pay for the war effort. Lucius had been well prepared for it and has secreted away vast sums of money off the isle. He is still a very wealthy man and has no intentions of living the remainder of his life in some pretense of genteel poverty. Reincorporating his hidden funds into the Wizarding world rates high on his agenda.
Even higher is his need to regain the standing he lost with his alliance with the Dark Lord. For centuries, the name Malfoy was synonymous with power, wealth and privilege.
Now it is mud. Lower than that even.
The intolerable situation is only temporary, Lucius is certain.
"We Malfoys are like cream," his father used to say. "We always rise to the top."
Indeed, Lucius would rise again and for weeks has been planning the means to do just that.
Lucius goes to his study, the unofficial base of his operations. The room is neat and tidy but for the massive wooden desk. It is covered with towering piles of rolled parchment threatening to fall over with even the slightest breeze. The rolls make up a most complete dossier about the young witch that is to be his salvation.
Lucius may have lost his footing in the Wizarding world, and its respect, however, he still has some contacts, most of them of the rather unsavory sort. But, very thorough, they are, and Lucius surmises that he now knows more about Hermione Granger than her own mother. Everything from her odd obsession with house-elves to her NEWT scores to the fact that she likes a pinch of cinnamon in her morning porridge. Lucius even knows about the small, crescent-shaped birthmark on the bottom curve of her left buttock.
Amidst the parchment lies this morning's Daily Prophet. A large photograph takes up the entirety of the front page. It is of Cornelius Fudge, smiling widely as he stands among the remaining members of the Order of the Phoenix. Fudge seems unaware, or more likely, uncaring, that the others are frowning or outright glaring at him.
Lucius continues to leisurely peruse the Prophet. Nearly every news item is in someway related to last night's Opening Banquet. In the Society pages he finds stories and photos of the more personal type. He smiles at a surreptitiously taken photo of the young Potter boy embracing his werewolf lover.
Oh, what a delicious scandal that would have caused, had it been anyone other than Harry Potter. There isn't a thing the world won't forgive its Savior, including shacking up with a dangerous, Dark creature.
It had been Potter's tryst with the werewolf that gave Lucius the idea. Remus Lupin's station in life improved dramatically when his association with Potter had come to light. Formally ostracized and spurned by most, Lupin can now be counted among the royalty of the Wizarding world. There has even been talks of rescinding many of the strict laws that regulates a werewolf's life.
Anything to please Potter.
Had Lucius any inclinations towards the male sex, he may have been be tempted to snatch Potter from Lupin. So determined is Lucius, even that may not have stopped him. However, his needs include offspring. While marriage is entirely possible between two wizards, pregnancy is not. So it is a female he needs. Hermione Granger fits the bill almost perfectly. A more beloved witch cannot be found.
There is the rather unfortunate state of her Muggle ancestry. That he is reduced to pursuing a Mudblood is a very bitter pill to swallow, but swallow it he has.
Lucius knows he cannot lose himself in dreams of what the world should be. That is a fool's game. The world is what it is and Lucius must find a place in it, by any means necessary.
With ambition comes sacrifice, says the old family motto, and Lucius is prepared to make a very big sacrifice, indeed. And with Hermione Granger by his side, not only will he infiltrate the new order of the world, he will reach the top.
And, if she proves to be as irritating as Lucius suspects, well…tragic accidents happen all the time. The role of bereaved widower is as good as that of loving husband. Preferable even, now that Lucius thinks about it.
But that is for later reflection, now he must concentrate on getting her to that state of wedded bliss.
The clock on the mantle chimes ten, snapping Lucius into action. Time is a-wasting.
Today. It all begins today.
Lucius is completely confident of his success as he lifts a wide, flat box off the mantle of the fireplace. The box is of a shimmering purple and is bound tightly in golden cords. Its appearance gives every indication that it is a gift in the tradition of L'Amour Contractuel, not that Hermione will know that. Her ignorance of Pureblood customs will work in Lucius' favor.
His grip is firm on the gift as he Apparates to the Tuckin Hotel. When he arrives at the appointed Apparation zone, a house-elf immediately steps forward to say, "Welcome to the Tuckin Hotel, sir. Tappy is thrilled-"
"Hush, elf!" barks Lucius, as he grabs one the elf's large ears and pulls him towards the lobby. He thrusts the package into Tappy's hands and says, "Take this to the reception desk. It is to be delivered to Hermione Granger."
"Certainly! Sir is most kind to entrust this task to-"
He gives the foul creature a swift kick in the bum. "Go! Now!"
Lucius watches from the shadows as Tabby scampers to the desk. He would have preferred to do it himself, to ensure it's delivery but the witch behind the desk is sure to recognize him and will doubtlessly refuse to deliver a gift from an ex-Death Eater to a revered war hero.
Once the deed is done, Lucius makes to leave. Bringing the gift to Hermione was his only aim in coming to the Tuckin Hotel.
But then he sees her and a new plan begins to form.
Lucius would have recognized Doris Granger even if he had never seen her before. She is but an older version of her daughter.
He casts a Disillusionment charm on himself and follows his target through the lobby.
Never leaving her side is Molly Weasley. The two women traipse through the hotel's lower levels, pursuing the various delights and entertainments that can be found at the Tuckin. Lucius can't be certain, but it seems as if the Weasley woman is intentionally veering Doris away from the ceremonies being held by the Ministry.
Lucius soon grows impatient. He must get Doris Granger alone. She is a vital part of his plan. He slyly hits Molly with an exceptionally nasty hex that will leave her sitting on the toilet for hours. She makes a quick pardon before running for the nearest loo.
Doris stares concernedly after her then returns to her prior activity of posing before a large blank canvas, which, for two Galleons, will paint you in the style of any of the old Masters. She laughs with a child-like exuberance when her likeness forms as the Mona Lisa.
Lucius makes sure the area is completely evacuated before he makes his move and performs additional spells to ensure their privacy.
Near Doris is a bust of Medusa and Lucius's plans are further cemented. Medusa's serpents move docilely about her head but after a quick flick of Lucius' wand, they spring to life. Hissing madly as they lengthen and assail the unsuspecting Doris.
Her anguished screams are like music to Lucius' ears and he nearly loses himself in the nostalgia of the old days, when a bit of Muggle sport was as certain as the sun setting.
But he cannot tarry.
Lucius removes the Disillusionment charm as he swoops forward. Hair flying and robes billowing. Lucius likes to think he looks like an angel descending from heaven. Blue light extends from his wand, turning Medusa and her violent snakes into a pile of smoldering ash.
Doris falls into his arms and he carries her to a nearby velvet-covered bench. He rubs her back soothingly and says, "There, There. You are perfectly safe now."
She looks tearfully up at him and Lucius notices a deep, bloody gash marring her right cheek. He gently touches his wand to the wound, completely healing it. A large, face-deforming scar remains, though Lucius could have removed that as well. He doesn't, just because he can.
It's the little things that make life worthwhile.
Doris palms her cheek and grins at Lucius, revealing large, gleaming white teeth. "Thank God you were here!"
Lucius gives his most charming smile. "Not at all, madam. It's always my pleasure to rescue a beautiful woman."
xxxxx
Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you thought of the first chapter. I do appreciate con crit so please don't hesitate to tell me about any mistakes or negative reactions you might have had.
Oh and if you want to be notified of updates and such I would reccomend keeping an eye on LJ. There is a link in my profile. I will be also be posting some L/Hr fan art there from time to time.