Draco entered the Slytherin common room. He realised, without any nostalgia, that the room had not changed at all, and that he didn't miss the place. It only reminded him of pathetic dirty tricks and noisy parties where everyone was betting on when Hagrid would finally be sacked.

"Where's Blaise?" he asked at large to the students sitting in the living room.

The dormitory was pointed out to him, and Draco went up the didn't bother knocking on the door and opened it, sticking his head through the opening. "Blaise? Mate?"

Blaise was lying on his bed, feet crossed, a book in one hand and an arm folded under his head. The dormitory was messy, but deserted.

"Can I talk to you?" Draco asked.

Blaise sighed and slammed his book shut without saying a word. Draco moved forward and stood at the end of his bed, waiting for his friend to sit up. Blaise's lip was still swollen.

"What do you want?" grumbled Blaise, sounding impatient.

"I know you're pissed. I understand."

"So what?"

"I wanted to apologise. I shouldn't have hit you."

"Nope, you shouldn't have."

"I didn't like what you were saying and it was a way for me to stop hearing. It was stupid."

Blaise nodded and cleared his throat. "We're not bloody children anymore. I won't hold a grudge against you for ages."

"Thank you."

"So you came to see me because you actually realized that I was right?"

"Something like that" Draco scoffed.

Blaise laughed, smirking. Draco returned the grin, relieved that the awkwardness between them had dissipated so quickly. Draco had always appreciated that side of Blaise. He didn't hold grudges and was quick to forget the wrongs done to him.

"Perhaps you'd like to know that when Granger asked me if I still considered her inferior, I didn't answer."

Blaise's face remained completely blank, as if he hadn't heard anything. He stared at Draco. Draco stared back at him. The silence became awkward.

"Am I supposed to cry tears of joy or something?" Blaise finally said.

Draco rolled his eyes. Why, indeed, had he announced that to Blaise, as great news worth mentioning? As if Blaise were the one validating when Draco did something right or not…

"I thought you'd want to know," Draco finally admitted with a shrug, deciding to act indifferent.

"Well, congrats Malfoy, for not answering a simple question!"

"That proves it's not the case anymore, doesn't it?" Draco spat. "No answer is an answer."

"I'm not the one to confirm what you really think. You know yourself."

"Actually, I don't! I can fucking feel it in me! I don't know myself anymore! I'm starting to do things that aren't me! I'm not interested in things I used to care about, and I'm interested in things I didn't care about before—"

"Before what?"

"What?"

"Things from before what?"

"War."

"Look, I'm not your analyst. You're definitely going through some stuff and you're acting like an idiot because you don't like it."

"Exactly."

"But if I witness you acting like a total dick with her for no good reason, I'll tell you again."

"You care about her too, don't you?" asked Draco, now very alert to the fact that he and Blaise often discussed Granger.

"Yes, but not for the reasons you think."

"And what do I think?"

"I don't want to woo her. Or anything like that."

Draco frowned. The thought of his best friend trying to impress or seduce Granger sent a strange twinge of annoyance biting his abdomen. It was a mindless feeling, one he couldn't remember when it had started, which made him believe that it had always been like this. Blaise wooing Granger had always bothered him.

"Okay, this is getting too personal for me," Draco snorted. "Whatever. Are you ready for the Ball tonight?"

"Yep. I'm not a princess like you, Malfoy. It'll take me two minutes to get ready."

The Ball was three hours away and Hermione was getting nervous. First, because she wanted everything to be successful and in place. She was a bit worried that their spells would fail and suddenly the decorations would fall on the guests' heads. She tried not to think about it. Second, because she still hadn't seen the dress Draco had gotten for her. After their blow-up two days ago, they were almost avoiding each other and she thought he might have decided to cast a spell on her dress to make it look horrible, even if he had bought something nice.

Draco had his nose buried in a thick dusty volume at their common room table, looking not the least bit nervous, but rather indifferent to all the excitement that filled Hogwarts.

"Where's my dress?" asked Hermione in a small voice.

"In my room," he replied dully.

The witch rushed to his room quickly, her heart beating faster in anticipation. She was surprised that her partner had given her permission to go to his room, but she didn't think anything more of it. As she crossed the threshold of the Slytherin's room, she scanned the place for her dress.

"I thought you said it was in your room!" she said, still glancing around for it.

She wasn't going to start going through his stuff, was she?

"I never said it was out in plain sight!" he snapped, glumly.

She retraced her steps towards the table where he was sitting. "But I have to get ready! I can understand that you men only take about ten minutes, and I'm being generous here, but I need to know what you've chosen for me! I'll match my hair and make-up to the dress, and if I don't like the dress I'll balance my efforts on my hair. And I do wish to be early because I'd like to check the Great Hall again."

Hermione still hadn't told him that in her closet, tucked away behind all her clothes, the dress she'd bought for herself with Ginny lay dormant, ready to be worn if needed. It wasn't an amazing dress, but Hermione had liked its simplicity. She was willing to wear whatever Draco chose for her if the mystery dress matched or topped hers.

Draco, his nose still bent over his book, raised an index finger, and finished reading his sentence. Then, finally, he raised his head. "Bloody hell, breathe, Granger. When you shower, your dress will be waiting for you on your bed. No need to sweat about the Great Hall. It's all good."

It amused him to see her so nervous for one simple night. But, on the other hand, he guessed there was much more to her nervousness than she was letting on. It wasn't just because she wanted a nice dress and everything to go right. She wanted to know if the watch in the shop was her brother's. She had been assaulted twice. Draco was actually very perceptive in understanding what was going on in her head.

"Okay, fine," Hermione sighed. 'I'll just go and shower then. It better be on my bed when I'm done."

She locked herself in the bathroom almost immediately. The Slytherin closed his book. He liked that Blaise was able to forget wrongs, but with Granger, he liked that even after a fight, they were still able to talk to each other and not necessarily go back over what had happened. Granger would either move on very quickly or she would force herself not to say anything more.

He was also nervous. And he was no longer trying to lie to himself. With a touch of irony, he rolled his eyes at the excitement he was feeling at the thought of his partner slipping into his dress. Yes, he wanted to know if she would like it. It would have been fun to go through with his plan and pick out a really ridiculous dress just to see her reaction, but he'd come around. It was a Ball. Everyone deserved at least one nice evening. The only discomfort he felt was over the fact that he didn't want her to start whispering around where she'd gotten her dress. For some reason, Draco wanted it to remain their secret. And the more he thought about it, the more he knew for a fact that Hermione was nothing like he always imagined her to be, spilling comments about him to anyone who would listen. The more he thought about her, the more he was surprised to discover how wrong he was. He didn't know her as well as he claimed. He didn't like it, because he hated being contradicted.

As the shower water ran and he heard Hermione humming, he retrieved the dress — which he had actually turned into a shirt behind his door—, and laid it on the Lioness' bed. He returned to his reading.

Hermione was in her room, wrapped in a thick bathrobe. She had just finished showering and her hair was draped over her head in a towel. She had been standing still for two minutes now, trying to absorb every last detail of the robe that had been laid on her bed. Draco's dress — let's call it that — was definitely not a dress she would have bought for herself. First, because it must have cost as much as the owls in the Owlery, and second because it was far too dashing for her personality. She would feel embarrassed to wear it because she knew she would be flashy.

"Malfoy!" she shouted from her room. "This is not something anyone gets when they lose a bet!"

"Never grateful, are you?" he yelled back from the living room so she could hear him. "Do whatever you want, like I care!"

Hermione released a frustrated and uneasy exhale and looked at the dress again. It was black as night and was floor length. The fabric was silky and soft, giving the dress a light, liquid feel despite its dark colour. A silver ribbon studded with small gemstones looped around the waist and then slid down the back to blend into the blackness of the skirt. The bustier was completely black, tight, and the Claudine collar went up to the neck, decorated in the same way as the waist ribbon, entirely covered in the back, the dress tied behind the neck, revealing a lozenge shape of bare skin, and covered the lower back at the ribbon height. The dress left her shoulders completely bare and the dress hugged her body in a seductive embrace.

For the sake of it, Hermione had taken out the dress she had chosen with Ginny and placed it next to the black dress. There was no comparison. They were the perfect metaphor between day and night. Yet the witch hesitated. She wouldn't recognise herself in the black dress, and would definitely feel more comfortable in her simplistic dress. On the other hand, the black dress... the more she looked at it, the more she felt like she was looking at the glamorous attire of the Pureblood wizards who hosted elite and classy soirees.

He bought a dress for a Pureblood princess, Hermione thought bitterly. This does not belong to me. But immediately she accused herself inwardly of having made such a stereotypical judgement about Purebloods. Of course some wizards were richer than others, but it wasn't just the Purebloods who gave themselves the right to wear such attire.

The longer she stared at the dress, the more uneasy she became. This is not a dress you buy for someone you consider inferior... She thought too much. Blimey, she was thinking too much about a dress choice! It wasn't that complicated, though. She would definitely look good in that dress, but how much did she want others to look at her differently?

Her gaze alternated between the two dresses one last time before, with a sigh of resignation, Hermione grabbed the black dress.

"Granger!" exclaimed Draco from the other side, leaning against the portrait. "It' s now or never!"

She was done. Hairstyle? Elegant updo. Make-up? Subtle. Shoes? Distinguished and comfortable, the heel was rectangular and not too high. Merlin, her heart was beating fast! It was time to head for the Great Hall, but she didn't dare open the door to her room, because then it would all become real. What she was wearing, — she was feeling like someone else —, and who had given it to her.

Gathering her courage and gulping down her apprehension, she turned the handle and stepped into the common was standing by the door, fully dressed in a very dashing black suit that made him look like an Earl. His jacket was casual but complimented his shoulder build perfectly. He had left his white shirt slightly unbuttoned at the collar, and his leather shoes caught the glare of the light.

When he finally saw her, Draco had wanted to say something, anything, but the words escaped him and suddenly he couldn't remember how to pronounce his vowels. He couldn't remember having a fight with her this week nor ever finding her repellent. Hermione, a little taller and straighter, came forward with obvious embarrassment on her face, but with a fairy-like, ethereal grace and distinction. What could he say? She was exquisite. His throat was dry. And he needed to regain his fucking composure as soon as possible.

"You look very nice," she told him first. She was embarrassed by her appearance, but was not embarrassed to tell him what she thought of him. She wasn't going to stoop to a childish silence. People fight and move on anyway.

He gave a wry chuckle and tilted his head slightly. Oh, how he enjoyed seeing her bare shoulders, frail and shy. A few feet away from her, he threw a small object at her, which she caught awkwardly in her palms. "With a dress like that, you can't forget that!" he said.

It was a glittering bracelet that matched the little gemstones on her collar and the ribbon on her waist. She bit her tongue, and shyly slipped it onto her wrist.

"You shouldn't have done that," she huffed. "The dress was more than enough. Thank you..."

"It looks good on you," he replied without a trace of intonation in his voice, knowing that the dress fitted her better than 'good'. "So, did I play a dirty trick on you?"

Hermione blushed subtly. "It's a beautiful dress. I would never wear anything like this. But at least you'll be a little less ashamed to share a dance with me. Now we look like equals."

She had meant to make a hidden joke with a little spike, just to let him know that being considered inferior was completely stupid. But the Slytherin's face lost some of its confidence.

He dramatically rolled his eyes, shaking his head in perfect irritation. "Drop it, Granger. I'm not ashamed."

"Because I look decent?" she huffed, rolling her eyes as well.

"Because I think you look more decent than anyone else, and because I'm with the fucking Head Girl of the school."

"Oh, so now you're proud to be prancing around with a Head Girl?" Hermione retorted, dismissing the first compliment he gave her. "Even if it's me? Isn't that a rank or two below you?"

She couldn't deny that she had clearly heard Draco's compliments in his words. He wasn't hiding what he was really thinking as well as he used to, and yet he kept coming back to taunt her sometimes with her supposedly inferior status. Not that that's what he did tonight. She didn't understand why she was trying so hard to show him that his thinking wasn't right.

"Are we really going to do this again?" Draco snarled, his eyes suddenly hard.

"I'll give you time to come to your senses. But I will continue to fight for the place I have and deserve. I will not let anyone tell me I am inferior." She walked past him, not waiting for his answer. Draco grumbled before following her. Hermione's heels clicked on the marble floor. Click click click.

"You'll never have any certainty or conviction that one day things will change," Draco finally said through his teeth.

She shrugged her shoulders, her chin high. Click click click. "That's true, but the freedom to hope and believe is a privilege I intend to nurture."

She glanced sideways at him and grinned. "I have hope," she said. "You'll see, you might be surprised too."

They arrived at the Great Hall, its doors closed. Inside, they could hear the chatter of students talking and laughing. The music had not started, as the Ball was to officially begin with the Heads' dance.

Frantic and nervous, Hermione couldn't keep still. Soon McGonagall, in a gorgeous purple dress that matched her hat, joined them. "Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy, you look lovely!"

Draco thanked her as Hermione's cheeks flushed again in embarrassment.

"I truly congratulate you for all your hard work," the Headmistress continued. "It's going to be a wonderful evening. Are you ready?"

Hermione nodded, and Draco followed suit.

"Don't forget, halfway through the song, the Prefects will join you on the dance floor."

They stood in front of the big closed doors, waiting for the signal to enter, as king and queen, into the heart of the party they had worked so hard to plan.

Then, just before McGonagall opened the doors, she placed her hand on Hermione's arm and leaned towards her in a confident manner. "You look fabulous, Miss Granger. Don't be afraid. It's only a dance."

Hermione smiled at her, surprised by the old witch's insight, who seemed to have guessed her embarrassment. As McGonagall waved her wand to open the doors, Draco held out his arm to his partner. She slipped her hand underneath and held on tightly to him. If she had one last thing to say to him, it was now, before entering the hall.

"No one chooses where or from whom they are born," she whispered to him. "You didn't choose to be a Death Eater, and I didn't choose to be born of Muggles. You made bad choices, yes, but I never saw you as inferior. What does that tell you?"

Draco felt like he was being punched in the heart, and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. The large doors opened and they walked straight ahead, under the stunned eyes of the students. Click click click. Soon there was a thunderous applause to welcome them. But most eyes were on the beautiful Head Girl, who was almost beyond recognition. And Draco noticed soon enough that most of the men were looking at her, not at them. He immediately thought of that stranger who had touched her in Hogsmeade and gritted his teeth. He was going to make sure that tonight, no man could act on the thoughts they certainly had about his partner.

The effect was beautiful with the grey, black and purple dresses of the female guests. The Great Hall was just as they had left it a few hours earlier. Everything was perfect, solid, and splendid. The band was set up, ready to play, awaiting the Heads arrival on the dance floor.

Then the silence fell. Ceremonial. Solemn. The Lioness and the Snake faced each other for a few seconds, and Draco held out his hand, shaking lightly. A thin film of sweat beaded his temples. You didn't choose to be a Death Eater. Hermione slipped one of her hands into his, the other on his shoulder. And it was when the Slytherin placed his hand on Hermione's waist, on that perfect little lozenge of skin, that he realised that it was the first time their touch felt personal, intimate, private. And nice. I didn't choose to be born of Muggles. And suddenly he didn't want anyone else to witness this moment that belonged to them. They were the rain and the sun, the lightning and the rainbow, the hurricane and the tidal wave. Their storm was theirs.

A new sensation tickled the Gryffindor at the touch of his hand on her bare back, but she quickly forgot about it, concentrating on his grey eyes. Her stress was numbing all sensation. She bitterly regretted being attracted to Draco when he was the only one, it seemed to her, still deeply embedded in her prejudices. And Pansy.

But when the first bows hit the violin strings, all her nervousness dissipated. Everything was fine. She was in control, and she wasn't alone.

The evening was a success and was almost over. When all of it was over, Hermione and Draco would stay for an extra hour to clean up, helped, of course, by a few Prefects and one or two volunteer teachers. The festive atmosphere brought smiles to everyone's lips, and lively conversation was everywhere. Many had kept the same dance partner all evening, but most had only danced with friends or different people. After the Heads' first dance, they had split up and stood on their own sides of the Great Hall with their respective friends. However, Ginny had not been blind to the occasional sidelong glance from Hermione in Draco's direction. And Blaise was observant and had noticed that Draco's eyes slid towards the Lioness quite a lot, as if he was guarding her. At one point, Blaise and Ginny's eyes had even met and they had exchanged a small smirk.

Ginny was the only one who knew that the dress Hermione was wearing was not the one she had chosen or bought herself. The dress was absolutely breathtaking. The redhead was beginning to notice tiny details that proved to her that there was much more to Draco than just arrogance or a stack of prejudices.

Hermione had shared a dance with Harry, with Ron, with Ginny, with Neville, and with Luna. They all thought she was immensely beautiful and no one had been shy about telling her so. She'd done her final check to make sure the cups were still full, the trays were still overflowing with appetizers, and the drapes were tied tightly. Everything was still perfect, and she relaxed. With a nostalgia that pinched her heart a little, she thought of her brother and how proud he would have been of what she had accomplished. It would have been a great pleasure for him to be a part of this evening. Hermione smiled sadly at the thought.

"Looking good, Mia!"

Hermione turned round. Blaise was walking towards her, smiling broadly. He was wearing a similar outfit to Draco's, but Blaise had opted for a bow tie. The Gryffindor gave him a shy smile before looking at her friends.

"Who's Mia?" asked Neville.

"I am."

"Him again?" grumbled Ron.

She reprimanded him with a reproachful glance. "You know very well that he's quite decent. And even nice."

"I agree," Ginny said.

The Three Broomsticks episode had proved to Ginny that Blaise was by no means a selfish Slytherin who was too busy looking out for himself only. Since then, she had been trying to give all Slytherins a chance, but it was no easy task.

Blaise finally reached the small group. He greeted them all with a nod. "Good evening!"

They all responded in kind, except for Harry and Ron who mumbled their greeting a little.

Finally, Blaise held out his hand to Hermione with a bow of his head. "How about a little dance before the evening ends?"

Hermione agreed and took his hand. They walked away and moved a little further to the centre of the dance floor. The rhythm of the songs was beginning to slow down as the evening progressed. The Gryffindor noticed that when Blaise slid a hand over her waist, she didn't feel that little tingle she had felt when Draco had done the same.

"How's your evening going?" Hermione asked him.

"Great!"

The brunette was slightly embarrassed by their proximity, but it didn't bother her too much. She just wasn't used to being so close to a Slytherin. Strangely, it was as if she no longer considered Draco as one of them. He spent most of his time in their dormitory, even when doing his homework.

"There's something I think you should know," Hermione whispered.

Blaise looked down at her and waited for her to continue. Was she going to tell him about that man he'd run into behind the Three Broomsticks?

"I saw my brother's watch in a shop window in Hogsmeade. In fact, I'm sure it's his, but I have to go back and check."

"Okay...?"

Hermione cleared her throat and leaned towards him a little. "I think he was robbed the same day he died. I think that the thief could be the same as your mother. Since it was in the same neighbourhood, and on the same night..."

Blaise raised his eyebrows and squinted at his thoughts. "Yes, I think it would be worth checking."

"And... I think we shouldn't rule out the possibility that the thief could also be the killer. I think the robbery and the... the murder... were committed very close to one another or by the same person."

"It makes sense, and it doesn't make sense."

"I know."

They continued to dance quietly.

"Do you think I can go with you when you go back to the shop?" he asked.

"Of course," smiled Hermione. "I told you about it, because I think you and I might be looking for the same person. Besides, I think Draco is now feeling involved in this story, or intrigued by it, and he's looking for answers too."

"Of course he is," Blaise grinned wickedly.

Hermione bit her lip. She wanted to tell him what had happened since the beginning of the year, the two assaults she had experienced and the mysterious words that had been repeated to her under the Imperius. But perhaps with twenty minutes left to the Ball, it wasn't the right time.

All of a sudden, Blaise leaned dangerously close to her face and brought his mouth to her ear as if to tell her a secret. "I have to admit, Mia, that you and Draco were quite the head-turners earlier on."

Hermione blushed fiercely, and instinctively looked around for her elegant blonde partner. She didn't see him.

"Don't be embarrassed," laughed Blaise. "I'm just observant, that's all. There's an energy between you two, but I don't know what it is. All this to say that, when you find it, I won't be the one you have to justify yourself to."

The Gryffindor held back an exclamation of surprise and embarrassment. Hell, she didn't like it when another person started making personal comments about her relationships. She glared at him.

"I swear, Blaise, that's not what's going on," she scolded.

"Calm down. I just told you that you don't have to justify yourself."

"You're impossible!" Hermione rolled her eyes.

Okay, Blaise had pissed her off a bit, but she didn't push it any further. The Slytherin had only pointed out his observations. So if he had noted a so-called energy between her and Draco, who else might suspect the same? She didn't want anyone making false judgements about her. She didn't want others to suddenly think she was wasting her time on the most handsome man in school when she should be concentrating on her duties and studies.

That's not what Blaise meant at all, and you know it, she thought. Blaise had been talking about energy, not attraction. Energy could take many forms. He had never mentioned romance or even what others would think.

By the time the dance was over, more than half the students had left. She left Blaise and wished him a good night and went to collect her things. She greeted her friends, and sank into a chair, taking off her heels. She sighed with relief and massaged her feet. The band was putting away their instruments, the students were leaving, and the noise was getting quieter and quieter. It was peaceful.

The Great Hall finally emptied and Hermione saw the figure of Draco, who had taken off his jacket and folded it over his forearm. He had a glass of champagne in one hand, his wand in the other and was striding towards her. The Lioness blinked a few times at the sight. He reminded her of a well-chiselled Greek statue, with perfect angles. A mysterious apollo, dark and gentle at the same time. She frowned, shook her head to clear her tired thoughts, and laughed a little at herself.

"So?" exclaimed Draco as he reached her.

He threw his jacket over the back of a chair and dropped onto it, a few feet away from Hermione. He had rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows. He'd fucking hated all night how the men were looking greedily at Hermione, but he wasn't going to start intercepting them one by one so they'd look away. He gulped down the rest of his drink and placed it on the table with a clink. He took another.

"Satisfied?" he asked her.

"Absolutely."

Around them, three Prefects had stayed behind as well as two teachers. They had all started to collect the rubbish with their wands, gathering the glasses and putting the chairs together. Draco began to drink his other glass quickly. He seemed awfully concerned about an unsolved equation.

"Not your second one, I assume?" asked Hermione. She didn't want him to hear an accusatory note in her voice.

The Slytherin shook his head and laughed. He had a look of bitterness in his eyes. "Indeed", he said. "You know, I agree with you, Granger. We don't choose our family."

Hermione's heart leapt in her chest. She didn't expect him to bring it up again any time soon, but surely it was the alcohol that made him talk. Draco took another sip of his drink.

"I realize you didn't choose to be... a Mudblood," he said, the words sticking in his mouth. "But—"

"There are no 'buts', Malfoy! You said it, I didn't choose to be one. Which means I got my magic not because I had wizard blood, like you, but because I deserved it! Because I was an ideal and perfect vessel for it. If anything, I deserve it more than anyone else!"

Hermione was starting to flare up and Draco looked at her over his glass without saying anything. Soon Hermione's cheeks were heating up with anger.

"After everything I've done with my magic," she continued, her eyes glistening with indignation, "after everything you've seen me do at school, do you really, really, really think I don't deserve to perform it?"

Her throat suddenly constricted, she stopped talking and went back to massaging her feet, in an attempt to have something other than him to look at. Draco remained silent, his brain like a beehive and every thought like a bee. When he heard his own beliefs expressed from someone else's mouth, from her mouth, he began to hear a little of the absurdity on which they were based. He couldn't let go of them. It was too hard to let go, because he knew it would mean being kicked over the brink of nothingness. What could he hold on to?

The blonde man chugged his glass and placed it on the table next to the other one, then leapt to his feet. He held out a hand to the Gryffindor, looking suddenly invigorated. "Come on, Granger. Get your wand out."

Hermione took the hand that was being held out to her. Draco pulled her to her feet and released her. He felt a new confidence come over him. Inside him, a sort of dawn was breaking, and it was colored in gold, amber, and caramel. He felt warm. They had come to the Ball together and would leave together, like they had belonged together all along, despite all the fucking men lurking around her. Wands out, they made their way to the centre of the Great Hall, where they would begin by undoing one spell after another.

"Let the fun begin," said Draco.

"The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen."

Elisabeth Kübler-Ross

oOoOoOo

Thank you, with all my heart, to my wonderful betas enchanted4life, Wise_Owl26 and Dracosalive for their tireless work on all my chapters. Thanks to you, my awesome alpha Angelina, for our many conversations and multiplying ideas to constantly improve this story! My writing process is much less lonely and you brighten my days. Yes, for real.

Thank you to all my readers, ghost or not, who continue this story, even though you may not appreciate every single thing about it. Your perseverance gets to me! I love you all.

Axiomea