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we're getting somewhere, now
issalee
So if you have a minute why don't we go
Talk about it somewhere only we know?
This could be the end of everything
So why don't we go
Somewhere only we know?
-Somewhere Only We Know- Keane
Rabastan was stretched out full length on his bench in his cell, eyes closed. Outside, he could hear the distant noises that alerted him to the human presences in the castle, and he smiled. It had been so long since he'd engaged with any proper humans, those who showed emotion; compassion, mercy—
Fear.
His eyes flew open, and his eyebrows knit together as he remembered Harry Potter's face. The clear revulsion, and terror, all etched firmly in his mind. Rabastan shook his head, as though trying to rid himself of the image, but succeeded only in making himself dizzy.
He rolled off the bench, landing on the straw with a welcome burst of pain his shoulders and back. Rabastan moved to the wall, leaning against it, head tipped back.
"You selfish, loathsome, vile thing," he whispered. "Why do you keep us all as though we were pawns?"
The air before him shimmered slightly, and the same straw doll he'd handed to Harry appeared, ghostly smile still on its charred and twisted face. Rabastan plucked it up from the ground, frowning.
"Oh, dear, Harry. You should have kept this." He tucked it into his shirt, and closed his eyes again, searching for that grim little presence that was always in the back of his mind. He'd felt it flare up nearly seven hours ago, when it was feeling intense emotion. Another victim, he thought.
"Brother…"
Rabastan opened his eyes. Perched on the bench, faded but there, was Tynan Malfoy. She was scowling, and as she looked him up and down, it was obvious she was displeased with him.
"Potter got away," she muttered.
"Yes, I know."
"It was all your fault."
Rabastan said nothing. Tynan rolled her eyes.
"You're terrible company, you know."
"The brain-dead often are."
She glared at him. "You, Bast, are the only person who can get under my skin these days, you know."
"Save for the Potter boy."
"Save for him," Tynan agreed. "I was terribly upset when that stupid nephew of mine stepped in; I nearly had Potter's mind in my grasp; could feel its hold begin to slacken already. I so want to see him be just like Bellatrix," she said dreamily.
"Draco stepped in?" Rabastan asked. As Tynan spouted off oaths and curses, stewing in her failure, the white-haired man thought. So the doll hadn't worked; it had been Draco, after all who had helped. He knew, since he'd seen the babe with his tuft of blonde hair; Draco Malfoy was going to be a very special person.
"Are you even listening?" Tynan said irritably. "You called me, I know, but why? At the moment, Lucius is off sulking somewhere. I set all of my people to mill around in the Forest, and set up a few lookouts."
"Feeling compassionate?" Rabastan mocked. "The Great Crimson is letting her troops lick their weary wounds?" When she didn't rise to the bait, he let his head droop. "I'm tired. You're pulling too much at my power."
"You whine too much."
"You're drawing away all my bloody magic!" He said, a little hysterically. "My mind is only intact because it's too bloody smart for you!"
There was a momentary silence, and then the Tynan shook her head, blonde hair falling in beautiful rivulets, cascading around her shoulders in an effect she knew would stun most men into shock. But not Rabastan. She watched him, eyes narrowed, and then she shrugged.
"You know why you're here, Bast. Bellatrix was easy to break; the very first time my magic touched her, she nearly died in agony. You, my little friend, are a tough nut. And besides, as long as you do your job, you'll be just fine, right?"
"I hate you," Rabastan said dolefully.
"There's a good pet," Tynan said, and flickered in and out. Rabastan watched with interest. It took a great deal of magic to do even this minimal form of astral projection, but as always, the young Malfoy lady was performing beautifully.
"You want to stay and play?" He said brightly, deciding to play one of his most used cards. He was not crazy, he thought, but it was nice knowing people backed out when he let his intuition take over.
Tynan opened her mouth to refuse, and then caught sight of the charred doll peeking out from his pocket. "What is that?" she snapped. "If that's what I think it is, Lestrange, you're going to wish you'd never—"
"Been born?" Rabastan said, eyes emotionless as he shifted so that the doll was hidden from view. "I already do. And it's just a puppet. Here, have one," he said, and threw one of the many littering the ground through the blonde's form.
She scowled darkly. "I honestly don't understand you."
"Neither do I."
Rolling her eyes, Tynan took a step back, and in a moment, had disappeared. Rabastan, now all alone in the cell once more, tapped thoughtfully at his head.
That—had been a very interesting meeting indeed.
They decided against going to the common room, in the end, and skipped straight ahead to where they would have ended up anyways; the Room of Requirement. Hermione collapsed into the silken black pillows that were edged with gold first, followed shortly by Ron and Ginny. The room was painted in a soft gold hue, with candles in the middle of a circle of golden-edged black pillows. A walkway led from the door to the large square in the middle of an endless ocean, on which lilies were floating in endless circles.
Hermione touched the white marble. Marveled at how cool it could seem, while she herself was sweating. After this, she thought, she was definitely going to take a shower.
"It happened before our fourth year," Ron said softly. Hermione started; she hadn't expected him to be so open about it so soon. But their trek had calmed all of them down. Ginny was sitting a little ways off from them, eyes closed, and hand trailing in the water.
"What did?" Hermione pressed gently.
"My own little war," Ron murmured, and she was suddenly struck by how vulnerable he looked, hair falling to cover his eyes. "It wasn't even two weeks after we'd gone to the Burrow, and I was starting to feel bored…"
There was a long pause, as though Ron was struggling to say something, but couldn't. Ginny saved him, though.
"So he snuck out of the house." The two glanced at her, but she still had her eyes closed, and one pale hand was still in the water. "He left right after dinner, because Mum and Dad were going away for a week, and they had left Bill in charge of us. Bill thought we would be fine on our own, and had gone for the night to meet a friend for drinks."
"I followed Bill," Ron interrupted. "Followed him on my broomstick, while he took Dad's car. He stopped off in Diagon Alley, and when he was gone, I sort of just stood there. I didn't know what to do, 'Mione." He lifted his hands in a sort of helpless gesture.
Hermione remained silent, and Ron cast one more glance at her before continuing. "So I started to walk down the street, and I just kept going, with my broomstick in my hand. Course, I'm clumsy, doesn't everyone know it. I dropped it when I heard someone calling my name."
Ginny took up the story from there. "It was me," she said. "I had followed him. You can't fool me as easy as you do everyone else, Ronald," she muttered sourly.
"And when he was done scolding me, I told him I'd brought Charlie's old Comet 260, and that he could fly with me to Hole In The Cauldron, so we could get some butterbeers."
"But I couldn't find my broomstick," Ron said, getting in stride now. "And I couldn't leave it, I had nothing to say to Mum and Dad if I did! And me and Ginny walked all over, looking for it, and then, only because we were desperate, we went into Knockturn Alley."
"Oh, Ron," Hermione said, letting her breath out in one whoosh, but he didn't seem to hear and kept on.
"And I knew I shouldn't have gone, but Hermione—you should have seen it. I was like one big party. Everyone was dancing, and singing, and there were drinking all sorts of things. Basilisk Breath, Hermione, the finest wine you could find anywhere in all of the wizarding world! I lost Ginny, and while I was looking, I got distracted."
He blushed, and Hermione felt her stomach drop to her feet.
"There was this lady, with long blonde hair that fell in huge curls around her feet. She was wearing this weird outfit that I saw when we went to Egypt, but Mum said only gypsies and…scarlet women wear those. She pressed a goblet into my hands, and told me to drink."
"And you did." Hermione said flatly.
Ron's face was hidden from view as he looked down. "Yeah. And I saw a lot of things right after I drank some, Hermione. People were screaming, and everyone else was laughing. I started to shout for Ginny, but all of a sudden I couldn't hear her, couldn't hear anything but me, just me, and I hated it.
"I walked all the way to the end of Knockturn alley, but there were still ages and ages of people to get through. I didn't—I just looked up and I saw this—they were all wearing masks, at the end of the alley, and I realized they must have been Death Eaters. I was scared, Hermione. I turned around and just then one of them shouted and pulled out a wand—so I ran."
"Where to," Hermione asked, voice frosty. Ron winced.
"Anywhere. I was just trying to get out of the way, and I couldn't move right and my head hurt, and then I saw her, this little girl who was just standing off to the side and she looked so lost…"
As Ron's voice faded away, Hermione's mind put together the bits and pieces. A horrified look crossed her face, and she stared at Ron. "You didn't," she hissed, but he only cringed at the spite in her voice. "Instead of picking her up and carrying her to safety, maybe, you just killed her? With what, an Avada?"
"No!" Ron protested. "It wasn't like that! I told her to move, and I even tried to push her but she just moved away and she wouldn't get the hell away—," his voice was hoarse now, and he blinked rapidly as he attempted to wipe away the coming tears. "Hermione, she was unnatural."
"That's what you thought—"
"No, it's what I knew!" Ron threw at her. Before she could protest, Hermione's view was blocked by Ginny, who had stepped in front of her brother as though protecting him.
"She wasn't ordinary, Hermione. You know how Death Eaters play around with kids they find, and she wasn't human."
"How do you know that?" the older girl said, a little hysterically. "Maybe she could have had a chance! Maybe she could have still lived, and your brother pushed her away without a second thought!"
"She was probably going to die anyway," Ron muttered miserably from behind Ginny. Hermione, furious, stood up so quickly Ginny never saw the movement. The older Gryffindor pushed the other girl out of the way, and leaned down so that her face was nearly touching Ron's.
"So tell me, Weasley," she said. "What did you do?"
Ron refused to lower his eyes, and clenched his fists. His red hair fell in awkward curls across his forehead, not obscuring his eyes as they did Harry's, but in the way nonetheless. The brilliant blue eyes that Hermione had always managed to find a twinkle of hope or laughter behind were dimmed, and she had to work hard to keep up the angry glint in her eyes.
"I," Ron said, voice soft and barely audible. "I cast the Vivicus Curse."
"And what does this curse do?"
Hermione had, of course, read nearly every book in the library. But nearly was not enough in some instances; she did not know all the answers all the time. She watched as several emotions ran across Ron's face; mainly fear, anger, and regret. And then, most surprisingly of all, amusement.
"Find out yourself, Hermione. I see you're mad at me; we can't have that, now can we?" His tone was bitter, and he stood quickly. His sharp gaze landed on Ginny, who was kneeling on the ground next to the both of them, arms wrapped around herself, looking gloomy.
"I don't blame you for telling Malfoy," he said slowly, and waited for her eyes to light up before he let his anger show. "But I do hate you for it."
Both girls watched him go in heavy silence, Hermione with her mouth twisted in a scowl that seemed more sad than angry. Ginny stared at the door for a moment before she turned, sliding herself a scant few inches away, and retched into the still waters surrounding them. Hermione turned at the sound, just in time to catch Ginny as the younger girl fell back.
"Are you alright?" she said.
Ginny started to cry.
Draco had his reasons for everything he did. He never had and never would do anything without having a reason and evidence to back it up. Now, as he sat in the same room that had once housed him in the week after Harry had been bitten, he reviewed the reasons for his words in the Great Hall.
One, the Weasel disturbed him, and he hated all of the Weasleys but Ginny anyways. Besides, Ron had been acting like a twit for a while now, and he needed to stop before Draco muttered the Killing Curse and let his wand slip in the redhead's direction.
Two, Draco needed to talk to him, but he wasn't sure if Weasley would have listened to him. The only thing that could have gotten him to where Draco wanted to see him was a few well-placed words on a little-known subject; what Ginny had told him accidentally after fifth year, and then sworn him to secrecy about.
A rustle of covers made him turn and look at the boy lying on the bed next to him. Harry had been sleeping for the most part of three hours now; the potion Madame Pomfrey had pushed down his throat was supposed to send him into a dreamless sleep for only one. Absently, Draco reached up a hand and tugged lightly on one of the curls around Harry's forehead. He smirked in delight as he saw the cool wisp of his aura move from his fingers to wind around the lock, and then move slowly down to settle in Harry's forehead. His own little magic trick. Harry stirred again, and a small smile flitted across his face before disappearing completely. Draco was thrilled.
It was only a backlash of magical power, Madame Pomfrey had said. Harry was strong, but the amount used on him in that Cruciatus was enough to drive most people insane. As of yet, they had no idea if he was of sound mind. They would have to wait until he woke up. Draco frowned; he wished Harry were awake, right now.
His frown deepened. Since when had he become so reliant in Harry sodding Potter? A growl escaped his throat, and he clenched the sides of the chair he'd been in anger. It was all this damned Urian side's fault. And Harry—
Draco let his head drop in his hands sourly as he remembered what Harry had said. He'd never wanted this, anymore than the Slytherin had. And now he was stuck with Draco Malfoy for the rest of his life. A sudden wave of guilt washed over him, and he thrice cursed his stupid emotion-magnifying Urian side before letting his mind wander.
It was all his bloody fault, wasn't it? He wasn't even sure if maybe Harry really liked him. What if he was just sending out another sort of attraction, and they just failed to mention it in the book they'd found? His hand unconsciously slipped into his shirt, and he stroked the spine of the newly shrunken version that fit perfectly in his cloak's inner pockets. Draco suddenly felt miserable. He was taking away everything Harry was fighting for, what he had been missing his whole life, what he wished for everyone to have: freedom. Choice.
When this is over, Harry, you'll have all that.
He looked back at the boy lying in the bed, so still he could have been dead, and another pang jolted him. He would have to do something for Harry; something to make up for all of it when Tynan was gone and the world was finally at peace. Something Harry wanted more than anything on earth. He lifted his hand, and this time brought it up to cup Harry's cheek.
All that and more, he promised.
He was still like that, eyes unfocused and hand gently stroking the pale skin when Harry woke up. Draco didn't notice until something wrapped around his hand, and squeezed. The blonde looked down, and with a startled look on his face, whispered, "Hey."
"Hi." Harry's voice came out hoarse, and he had to try again before he was properly heard. "Where are my glasses?" he asked, rubbing at his eyes.
"Not here."
"I realized that," he said irritably. With some difficulty, the Gryffindor pushed himself up into a sitting position, and surveyed his surroundings. Draco watched as emotions played across Harry's face, ending finally with curiosity.
"And the castle? Are the students okay? And the teachers?"
Draco laughed, a short, dry one that told Harry exactly how he was being thought of at this moment. "Always so chivalrous, Potter. They're fine. Some casualties, to be expected, but everyone's fine."
"Ron and Hermione?"
"Still kicking, unfortunately."
Harry ignored the comment and leaned back, obviously relieved. Emerald eyes met mercury orbs. "Are you okay?" he asked softly.
Draco nodded shortly, and pulled himself even more into the chair, realizing with surprise that he was still holding Harry's hand. "You've been out of it for a while," he said, by way of distraction. But Harry didn't answer; he too, had noticed. With a deft move that shocked Draco into stillness, Harry laced their fingers together.
They stayed like that for a moment, and then the Gryffindor shifted forward, using his other hand to trace patterns on the back of Draco's hand. The Slytherin watched, half-fascinated and half-afraid, his skin tingling. Harry's fingers moved with the same skill they used when playing quidditch, and he made languid, slow and tantalizing movements that soothed rather than disturbed.
"You're forgiven," he whispered.
"What?" Draco said, surprised.
Harry looked up at him, and Draco was struck by the realization that, without his glasses, Harry was a different and wholly exotic creature indeed.
"You're forgiven," he said again, more slowly this time.
"I heard that," Draco snapped. "But what have I done that needs forgiving?"
Harry shrugged, and pushed the covers off him. "I don't know. Everything? You look like you've been to Hell and back, and there's a lot of regrets to carry back, I bet." At this cryptic answer, Draco drew his hand back, and quickly stifled the urge to return it to Harry's.
"You've gone insane," he stated, thinking immediately of what Madame Pomfrey had said. Harry shook his head in amusement, and attempted to slide out of bed. Attempted to being the key phrase here, as he had only just let his feet touch the ground when Draco's arm shot out, stopping him.
"Let me go, please," he said coolly.
"How about 'no'," Draco said. He cocked an eyebrow at the other boy. "Where do you think you're going? You're ill."
"No, I'm not," Harry said, just a little angrily. "I want to go see my friends, Malfoy, and I want to make sure for myself that they're alright."
And then, quietly, "Not that I don't trust your word or anything. But I just—need to see them." He looked up again, eyes seeing something past Draco that wasn't really there. "They've always been with me when I most needed them, and I have the feeling they may need me now."
The look Draco gave him was indecipherable, but the blonde slowly pulled his arm back. "Then leave," he said sourly. Harry shot him an apologetic look, but Draco pretended not to see it as the Gryffindor moved to the other side of the room, where his things were. Mme. Pomfrey had not removed his school uniform. The only things she had taken were his cloak and shoes. As Harry slipped on his trainers, he gave one more scan of the room, but no replacement glasses were there.
"Oh, come here, you idiot." Draco had been watching him, and now he motioned for Harry to come closer. Surprised, Harry did as he was told and walked cautiously over to Draco, who gently shoved him backwards. Harry sat down hard on the bed, blinking owlishly. Draco leaned in, and Harry closed his eyes as cool fingers were laid across his eyelids. "I hope you never find your glasses again, by the way," he murmured.
"What? Being sadistic again, I thought you stopped."
Draco smirked, and chanted softly. In a moment, he had removed his fingers, and Harry opened his eyes. His vision was clear, so much so in fact that it seemed ever better than a normal person's. "Wow," he said. "Just—wow."
Draco stood and stretched in the same fluid motion. "I'm coming with you, then. I've got friends of my own as well."
"Really?" Harry retorted as he stood and started for the door. "And here I thought you were joking." Draco snorted, and Harry looked at him, a sudden thought struck him. "Malfoy, couldn't you just conjure up glasses anyway? You're an Urian, right? And if you have enhanced magical powers and powers over the elements and all that jazz…well…"
"I could?" Draco said, expression changing from surprised to intrigued in one movement. "I could…" Experimentally, he lifted a hand. Harry moved back against the wall, leaning on it as he watched in interest.
Draco closed his eyes, and his brow furrowed ever so slightly. The air beneath his outstretched hand suddenly seemed touchable, but clear. Harry felt the hairs on his neck rise as all the magic in the room was suddenly amplified, drawn towards one source. He saw something peripherally, and turned just in time to duck as something flew past him; a flower? One of the ones from a vase on the dresser.
Harry looked back up to catch the flower floating underneath Draco's hand, and spinning erratically. Bulbs of light gathered around it, moving in and out as if trying to get into the flower, but something was stopping it. Draco by now was gritting his teeth in visible effort, but his eyes were still closed. Harry frowned in worry; he had just been joking about the glasses. If Draco was going to be hurt—
"Malfoy! Draco! Leave it, I was just—"
Harry yelped in pain as his head was knocked back against the wall, just as the lights all attacked the flower in multitude, and everything was encompassed in a dark green mist. Harry blinked away the stars dancing in his eyes, watching warily as the mist cleared with suspicious promptness. His eyes widened, however, at who was now standing directly in front of him.
Draco held out the new black glasses exactly like Harry's own, and smiled a little sluggishly. "There y'go, Potter." Harry was distracted. Draco's eyes had opened, and the gray color was gone; even the new mercury luster added by his transformation was just barely there. Flecks of green and gold had intertwined, forming a color that Harry could not name, but as he watched, they began to fade. Shaking himself out his stupor, Harry reached out a hand for the glasses.
"What? No reward for all my trouble?" Draco said. His voice sounded tired, and he looked even more like that. "Just joking, here."
But Harry suddenly felt ashamed. He had just used Draco in the way he had promised himself he wouldn't, and the Slytherin didn't even seem to mind. He ha to give him something back; but what do you give to one who has everything? He looked at Draco again, noting the fact that his hair was falling around his frame, the rubber band that had been holding it before supposedly vaporized. His eyes suddenly lit up with an idea.
"No," Harry said softly. "No, you get a reward."
Draco looked startled, but even more so when Harry reached up his arms and twined them around his neck, pulling the other boy closer.
"Wha—" Draco began, but was cut off as he automatically leaned in. The hand with the glasses in it was placed against the wall, and his arm automatically curled around Harry's waist. He blinked, and then smirked.
"Why, Harry, I never knew."
The Gryffindor began to blush, but was cut off. Draco caught his lips with a passion that seared at him, and he was reminded of their earlier kisses, but this one seemed—different. He suddenly felt very cold, and the air around him seemed to be frigid. But Draco was emanating warmth, so it was Draco he moved towards. Harry gasped in shock as Draco's hand slipped up his shirt, tracing patterns in his skin, leaving cool trails all along his heated skin.
A very satisifed moan left his lips as Draco pulled in closer, and Harry arched his back, tipping his head back so as to allow Draco better access to his neck. The Slytherin nipped lightly at the skin, and then, turning rather possesive, wrapped both his arms around Harry's waist, pushing him firmly back against the wall and kissing with such an urgency that both of them were forced to release small sighs of pleasure, although Harry's was more of a purring, thrumming noise than anything. Draco swept his tongue in languid movements in the bowl that was Harry's collarbone, nearly smirking as the Gryffindor's knees shook, and then gave way. Both of them sank down to the ground, breatheless and feeling distincly aroused, as was later advertised.
"Potter..."
"What?" Harry trailed his fingers through Draco's hair, mussing it up so that no amount of gel found on Earth could repair it. "Oh, Merlin."
"Pray tell, are you really that excited?" A furious blush lit up Harry's cheeks, and Draco let out a low chuckle of amusement. Harry opened his mouth angrily, but Draco took the opportunity to press his mouth against the other boy's, and to let his tongue invade. Immediatly, he felt his shirt ripping and groaned as he pulled back, eyeing his tingling wings with dissapointment.
"That," he said severely to them, "Was Adam Manticore. Very expensive."
"You're vain," Harry said, eyes foggy and looking dazed as he leaned against Draco's chest, and kissed the strong jaw lightly. Draco didn't say a word, only pushed the other boy back so that Harry was now fimrly against the wall, unable to move as his shirt was unbuttoned slowly, and soft, passionate kisses were pressed to his lips.
"Is that all you can say?" Draco murmured as he nuzzled Harry's neck lightly, and then immediatly returned to Harry's mouth. When he pulled away, he looked just as dazed as Harry. "Or is there something else to describe me?"
Harry tried to, really really tried to form some articulate words, something that would make Draco think highly of him, but then one of the blonde's hands strayed down towards his pants, brushing lightly against his arousal. Harry arched his back again, thanked all the dieties in the world for this new Urian side of Draco's, and said the only thing he could.
"Gah," he said.
Blaise raised an eyebrow as he sighted Ron stamping past the Great Hall, looking furious. He was slightly more disappointed that he had to wait nearly an hour for Ginny and Hermione to come by, and whilst the older girl slipped away to go and supposedly find Weasley, Ginny merely searched out Carleigh and sat next to her. Carina slipped into the bench and smiled. Blaise, now curious, moved amongst the students to listen in.
"…and I know it'll be just fine. Better, even," Carina was saying to Carleigh. "We won't be 3-C anymore, but we've got a lot more going for us."
Ginny took a different approach. "Listen to me, Leigh," she said firmly. "Do you think Chloris would have wanted us to just sit around and stew in our own misery? Things happen, okay?"
"You don't get it," Carleigh spat at her. "You don't know what it's like to have done something that could ruin everything people have ever worked for! You don't know what it's like to have to stand by and not do anything!"
"I, more than anyone," Ginny said, looking more amused than angry. Carleigh realized her mistake, but mistook Ginny's indifferent façade.
"I hate you," she hissed. "And I don't ever want to see you again. My sister, my sister, has just died and you're sitting here laughing about something you should have gotten over! For Merlin's sake Voldemort is dead! The bitch who killed my sister is still wandering around, ruining the lives of others while you sit here and reminisce! You're pathetic!"
Ginny shook with anger, but didn't say anything. Carina reached out a consoling hand, and laid it on her shoulder. "Hey, Leigh, drop it. I know you're upset—we all are—but you have no right to take it out on Ginevra. She's just trying to help, is all."
"Help?" Carleigh narrowed her eyes. "I can't believe you're protecting her, especially if you know what she's doing to your brother."
Blaise's eyes widened, and he leaned in even closer, nearly decapitating a Hufflepuff first year as he did so.
Carina cast an awkward glance at Ginny, who looked shocked, before she spoke. "What do you mean?" she asked slowly.
"She's playing some twisted cat and mouse game, with him, Rin. She doesn't really like him," Carleigh said, her face twisted with the anger of one who had been through too much to realize what she was saying. "She's probably just using him to get at Harry sodding Potter."
"Who is, coincidentally, bonded to Draco sodding Malfoy," a soothing voice broke in between them. "And, by the way, I don't think Draco would be happy to hear anyone use his endearment for Harry." Luna winked serenely at them, before extending a hand to Carleigh.
"Shall we go? I've just found a nice bottle of Ogden's and all the Kritzlies are gone, so my common room is safe."
There was a pregnant pause, and the Ginny huffed irritably. "I suppose no one wants to hear the man snatcher's opinion, but just in case you do she says she's going off to someplace—mayhaps Hell, so she can burn there—and that Carleigh should really go get drunk with Luna and Carina should go find and make out with someone who has been really heroic, no offense meant." She slammed her palms on the table as she stood, and then stalked off. Blaise, smirking widely, strutted out from his hiding place (behind Millicent Bulstrode) and walked by the table, being careful to avoid everyone's eyes but Luna's as he walked after Ginny.
Carina rolled her eyes. "Show-off."
Carleigh didn't say anything. She merely took Luna's hand, and vanished into the crowd. Carina, all alone at the table, let her face settle into her chin.
"Bugger," she said with feeling. "I suppose I'd better find Longbottom, then."
Unbloodybelievable. It snowed, and me and Nikki-chan went rolling down random hills all over town, and when I get home I am suddenly inspired beyond inspired. THIS FIC HAS DIRECTION NOW, BEWARE!
On the sadnosity side, if I need to get cold as bloody what to become inspired, don't expect an update as soon as...well...before Chrimboli. Maybe, if you all review. Actually, am very much down in the dumps what with all these crap entrance exams, but if anyone were to...er...let me put it simply.
I am not used to requesting reviews. Review-whore that I am, I don't withold chapters till I hit a quota. But even three words ("Fic is awesome!") bring me up so much that I'm immediatly inspired to write more! If I don't think anyone's liking this...meh.
To Jools: Yes, well, Harry's favorite food shall come out soon. I swear, and not in the gaynessness of the term. No, Harry shall be...different. His frut shall be...slightly lust-driven and very much Draco-luff related.
