Hermione glared at the letter on her desk. Neat scrawl under the perfect Malfoy Industries letterhead. Perfectly cordial, perfectly genial, perfectly friendly. Perfectly unlike her Draco.
Except there wasn't a her Draco. They were just friends. Her Draco was the man that had shoved her skirt up on the very desk she sat at now and whispered filthy words into her ear. She'd told him she didn't want that Draco.
But bollocks it all, she didn't want this cold, formal 'friend' she'd obtained. He wrote to her every day, his owl Apollo, delivered it like clockwork at 11:30. He asked for an update on her condition, ignored every attempt she'd made to converse normally or invite him to her flat, and not once had he teased, insulted, or flirted with her. She missed it. This didn't feel like friends. This felt… crap. It definitely felt like crap.
She hated this Draco. Malfoy. Actually, this was the cold, hard Malfoy she'd always expected to find in the man. Not the light, warm man she'd come to know.
Who knew agreeing to be friends and getting to know each other meant this? It felt she'd lost a friend and gained an unwilling business partner. They couldn't have been colder unless they were communicating through lawyers.
Hermione bit her lip and balled the letter. She threw it across the wall and watched with satisfaction as it rolled across the floor. Apollo, enjoying his piece of her lunch, hooted at her reproachfully.
"He's your human." Hermione said, "Is he always this much of a git?"
Another low hoot.
"Thought so," Hermione muttered to herself.
She didn't bother replying. She was sick of writing the same 'I'm doing well, everything is fine, how are you?' letter every day. It had been over a week, but there was little Hermione wanted to report to Draco than that morning sickness was in full swing. Every morning at seven, like clockwork, she woke and ran to the bathroom to empty her stomach. It was a miserable way to start the day, and she didn't need Draco checking in on her if it was just going to be same plain, robotic questions.
Between the morning sickness, still sore breasts, being constantly tired and now with Draco's cold contact, Hermione's mood had become volatile. The hormones didn't help either, she wanted to cry and yell and curse and cuddle; all of which she couldn't do with Draco avoiding her and W.O.F. piling work onto her like she was capable of carrying the entire company on her back. People had begun avoiding her unless strictly necessary as she snapped and growled at anyone remotely stupid enough to bother her. Hermione knew it wasn't her co-workers' fault, she was a hormonal wreck, and the disaster of trying to be friends with Draco had caused hadn't helped. She'd taken to locking herself away in her office just to survive it all.
Apollo, perched on the top of her bookcase again, ruffled his feathers and tucked his head away for a nap. She didn't know if it was because he'd been instructed to await a reply or just because, like her, he was sick of Draco and his pretentious attitude.
Hermione flicked her wand, sending the balled letter into the bin and forcing herself to concentrate on the mountain of paperwork on her desk.
At 5:15, Hermione shooed Apollo out of her window, the owl glaring indignantly at her as he reluctantly swooped away, still without a reply.
Hermione began packing her things, she'd locked herself away for the remainder of the afternoon and had actually made decent progress on her paperwork. A tapped came from her window, and Hermione let out a huff.
"Apollo, I don't have-"
She stopped; a small tawny owl flapped outside her window. She threw open the window, and the round-eyed creature dropped a small piece of parchment on her desk before settling in Apollo's preferred place.
Hermione reached up, gently petting the little thing atop the head. Its silky feathers fluffing once she stopped and collected the note.
Dearest Hermione,
I'm instructing Pepper to check for you at your office; first, I'll bet you haven't left yet. It's been forever since we went out, and high time to rectify this.
If you're feeling up to it, meet me at the Leaky at 5:30? Send Pepper back with a response if you can't make it.
I miss you, darling.
Padma.
Hermione looked up at the little owl.
"Pepper?"
The small thing hooted at her happily, making Hermione snort. Most likely she was a new owl for the Department of International Magical Cooperation where Padma worked. Padma spent too much time travelling in and out of the country to own her own animal. Something which she lamented on regularly.
It had been their shared love of pets that reunited them after Hogwarts. Hermione had known Parvati reasonably well, as well as she cared to at least, but she'd never had much of a chance to get to know Padma away from her twin and Lavender.
Hermione had been taking Crookshanks to the Magical Menagerie when he'd spontaneously started sneezing bubbles to be treated by their carer. He'd been less than pleased to see the shop but to Hermione's surprised he'd allowed Padma, who had been fondly staring at the kneazle kittens, to scratch behind his ears. They'd begun talking regularly after that, and their Wednesday tradition of dinner and a drink at the Leaky had started once Hermione had realised Padma was a far stretch from her sister's copy.
Hermione looked down at the note. She wasn't sure about going. Hermione didn't have an excuse not to go, but she'd been looking forward to going home and taking a long hot bath. She looked up at the little owl.
"What do you think, Pepper?"
The owl hooted again, but it wasn't looking at her this time; instead, it looked out the open window. Hermione frowned and was about to step forward when another owl swooped in.
"Blimey," Hermione said as the owl dropped a piece of parchment to her. Her office had become a bloody owlery.
Pepper hooted at the larger owl, who hooted back before taking off and departing out of the window once more.
Hermione opened the second note.
'Mione,
I'm not exactly sure if this is news you want to hear, but I thought you should hear it from me and not the Prophet. No doubt they'll have caught wind by the morning.
Lavender has gone into labour; Ron came to our cottage panicking about her water breaking. Ginny's had to go with him to get Lav to St Mungo's.
You know I love you, let me know if you need anything.
Harry.
Hermione let out a groan, then a snort. Lavender was delivering early. How terribly shocking.
Hermione picked up the note from Padma again. Yes, she'd be going. She needed a stiff drink and a good whine about this.
It wasn't until Hermione had met with Padma and gotten to the bar to remember that she couldn't drink. Bollocks. One baby was driving her to drink, and another was preventing her. It wasn't fair.
Thankfully Hermione had offered to get the first-round while Padma found a table. Hermione ordered one Odgen's Firewhisky for Padma and reluctantly ordered a Gillywater for herself.
As she collected the glasses, she spotted Padma waving from the corner, leaning into view from a booth seat.
"Thank heavens!" Padma grinned as Hermione handed her the glass of fire whisky. "You have no idea the kind of day I've had."
Hermione laughed, wishing she too could enjoy a glass of alcohol after the news she'd just gotten.
"Tell me everything." Hermione insisted as Padma sipped on her drink.
Hermione might have issues of her own, but that didn't mean she minded hearing about Padma's problems. Having listened to stories that had come out of the Department of Magical Cooperation before she was more than happy to sink into her seat as Padma let out a dramatic sigh.
"Ok." Padma said, hands already beginning to wave dramatically as she spoke, "You remember Dickens, right? He's the one with the uncle in France who…"
Hermione nodded, smiled and laughed as Padma continued on. Hermione was, as usual, forbidden from telling anyone in case of a magical international scandal, as Padma proceeded to explain her day. It had involved a magical diplomat, several bottles of Giggle water, and an engorgio charm gone wrong. Padma had spent the entire week trying to clean up the mess. Well, not the actual mess, just the potential political fallout if it got back to the diplomat's embassy.
Hermione suddenly felt so much better about her own life.
"…I finally managed to get him to put his pants back on, but I swear, Hermione, I was so close to leaving him there, cheeks to the wind or not. How are men so incredibly daft?"
Hermione choked on her drink,
"I've no idea, Pads, but I don't think you're dealing with normal men. That is insane."
Padma lifted her eyebrows.
"And these are the people we trust to run countries."
Hermione cringed as Padma drank the last of glass and sighed.
"Tell you what," she said smiling, "I'm going to pop to the loo, then I'll grab us another round and then you can tell me all about your week."
"Ah," Hermione looked down at her clear drink. It looked like several alcoholic drinks at the bar, and although Padma probably wouldn't ask, Hermione didn't want to risk having to explain why she wasn't able to drink alcohol. After all, Hermione had never held back on their usual Wednesday night drinks before. "You go to the loo, and I'll grab this round."
Padma frowned,
"You just got the last round."
"It's alright." Hermione said, "I think I owe you one from last time."
It took a bit more convincing, and a promise that Padma would get the next two rounds before Hermione slid from the table and headed to the bar. The usual robed workers were sitting around there for an after-work drink before heading home as well as a few people enjoying a casual dinner from the limited menu, but the pub was reasonably quiet. It still took Hermione a couple of minutes to get served, something not unusual for the slow-paced pub. Padma, on her way back from the toilets, waved at Hermione, letting her know she was back at the table just as Hermione collected their drinks.
"Well, if it isn't the witch of the hour, Hermione Granger." A smooth voice said from behind her.
It stopped Hermione dead in her tracks. Bollocks. She'd been hoping to have an evening without any Slytherins.
"Blaise." She said, giving a curt nod as she turned to face him. "How are you?"
Blaise looked tired. Something she had never expected to see on the exuberant wizard.
"Well," he said, "I almost got fired four times today. Which is one more than yesterday but one less than Monday, so I suppose-"
"Blaise?" Hermione said, shaking her head and interrupting his speech. "What are you talking about?"
Blaise scanned her face with a frown.
"I'm talking about my incredibly pissed off best friend and boss."
"Draco?" Hermione asked again, still lost.
Draco wouldn't fire Blaise, would he? The man seemed to single-handedly keep Draco in line at their public events. Blaise oversaw the public relations of Malfoy Industries. From how impressive their public image was Hermione presumed, Blaise was doing a pretty bang-up job. From Death Eater owned failing company to adored public influence both Draco and Malfoy Industries had come a very long way in barely five years.
"Yes," Blaise replied, looking at her irritably. "What did you do to him this time?"
Hermione shook her head.
"Nothing." She said, "We've been… perfectly amicable since Sunday."
Blaise raised an eyebrow but seemed to realise Hermione's confusion was genuine. Draco hadn't been annoyed at her. He'd been curt with his letters, but he hadn't seemed angry. Cold and business-like but still concerned at her state. Blaise let out a huff of air.
"Well, if Draco isn't annoyed with you why has he been in a snit all bloody week?" Hermione could only shrug. "Do you have any idea how many drinks I had to promise him to get him to come out tonight?"
Hermione gulped.
"Draco's here?"
Bollocks. That was the last thing Hermione needed. Hermione looked past Blaise, glancing nervously around the pub. She found Draco quickly enough, the pale blonde hair a clear marker in the dark atmosphere.
He was leaning against a walk talking to a slim brunette woman in gorgeous deep purple robes. Astoria, Hermione remembered her from Hogwarts, Astoria Greengrass. She had grown into an incredibly beautiful woman. She had long, delicate legs and silky brown hair that bounced around her shoulders as she laughed at something Draco had said. Draco, glass in hand, looking relaxed in her presence. He smiled, a genuine twitch of amusement pulling at his lips and Astoria playful pushed against his arm.
"Tori's distracted him now, thank Merlin." Blaise muttered, "Plus I managed to get a few drinks into him, so he's finally stopped snapping at anything that moves."
Hermione nodded slowly. Tori. Well, Astoria certainly did seem to have him distracted now. He appeared to be in a good mood around the witch. He was laughing. He said something and Astoria lent back, head tipped as she wiped a tear away and clutched her side, giggling at whatever Draco had just said.
They looked content together. They looked good together. A painfully, perfect Pureblood pair. Eugh, Hermione thought, they even alliterated well.
Hermione's stomach clenched, an acidic bubbling of annoyance, jealousy and regret that, try as she might, wouldn't be shoved down and ignored. He was having a good time with Astoria, teasing and laughing- everything that she hadn't had from him in days. Their interactions had been transactional and aloof ever since Hermione had told him they couldn't sleep together. It had been over like a switch, enjoying each others company one minute then he couldn't get out of her flat fast enough.
Was that it? She wasn't going to spread her leg, so Draco had gone elsewhere to get his fix? She'd taken away the only thing they had so far been good at, and he'd completely cut himself off.
Despite everything that had happened, Hermione had forgotten just how often she'd read articles about Draco and his many dates. Ginny had called him the Lothario of Britain, and she hadn't been wrong. Draco Malfoy was a well-known catch. Wealthy, powerful, the sole heir of a Pureblood name and of course, being painfully handsome helped. Except no one had ever come close to securing a long-term relationship with him, at least not one that the Prophet had ever reported.
Perhaps Tori could sway him, she was a proper Pureblood woman after all. Hermione bit her tongue, hating the bitter thoughts pushing their way into her head. She turned back to Blaise, trying not to wince as she heard Astoria laugh from across the room. Hermione realised she hadn't been listening to a word coming out of the wizard's mouth.
"Blaise," she interrupted, looking at the glasses in her hands. "I, ah… I need to get back to my friend. Sorry."
Hermione didn't look up at the concerned wizard as she walked away. She slunk between patrons until she reached the back table. She sagged into the seat across from Padma, reluctant as she pushed the glass of Firewhisky to her friend.
"Hermione, are you alright?" Padma asked, looking up and noting the change in Hermione's demeanour. She'd left for the bar feeling brilliant, talking to Padma usually cheered her but her return came with a sour, pinched face and eyes that rapidly blinked away tears.
"Yeah." Hermione muttered into her unsatisfactory Gillywater, "I'm fine, Padma."
Even her voice didn't sound fine, it was gravely and choked. She sipped her drink, trying to calm herself.
She didn't have any right to be angry. Not really. She'd told Draco she wanted to be friends. Just friends. So why shouldn't he flirt with Astoria, she was obviously a beautiful woman. Draco had every right and every reason to enjoy Astoria. They would court, get engaged, do all the proper things society demanded of them, get married and have a beautiful perfect Pureblood baby. All the while, Hermione and her child would be the mistake. The Mudblood and her little half-blood baby.
"Are you sure?" Padma said, breaking Hermione's concentration. "You look pale."
"I'm fine. Just tired." Hermione grumbled, trying to clear her head.
Gods, what was she doing? She was completely losing all sense of reality on the situation. She'd seen Draco talking to a woman, a woman he had every right to speak to, and she was sitting there completely losing her mind. She'd already planned the next ten years of their lives just of a few seconds of seeing a shared conversation.
Hermione wasn't sure who she was more annoyed at. Herself or Draco. Padma nodded, letting Hermione stew over her glass of Gillywater. They sat in uncomfortable silence for a while, Padma trying to catch Hermione's eye. Padma sighed,
"Hermione."
"Yeah?" Hermione didn't look up from her glass.
"I heard something on the way back from the loo. About Lavender?"
"What?" Hermione frowned; she'd completely forgotten. "Oh, right. She's at St Mungo's."
"Is that why you're upset?" Padma asked.
Hermione shrugged. She supposed that was what she should be upset about. Her ex-husband's new girlfriend was giving birth to his child, less than eight months after their supposedly amicable break-up. She should be furious that there was a woman giving birth to a child conceived to a man who was her husband at the time. The clawing jealous creature in her stomach didn't seem to care about Ron and less-than-subtle his affair. Evident as it had always been Hermione knew this should be a definitive moment- confirmation that all their denial about when their baby was conceived was bollocks, evidence that Hermione wasn't the only one sharing Ron's bed for a long time before their divorce.
Hermione sighed. She couldn't even bring herself to be angry at Ron. She hoped he was happy and their baby was born health. The jealous critter in her was clawing at her chest but not for any Weasley. No, it howled for Hermione to march up to the father of her child and slap him. Or snog him. She wasn't sure.
But. Hermione was the one who had said they should be friends. She had decided they shouldn't have sex. I didn't know that meant he was going to jump into the bed of the next awaiting women, hissed an angry little voice in her head. Hermione glared at the table in front of her. She'd wanted to be friends with Draco, but apparently, that wasn't possible. So far, he seemed to only like her when they were shagging.
"Men," Hermione spat, "are arrogant, ungrateful, pretentious arseholes."
She was surprised at her own outburst. She'd clenched her hands around her glass and let out the first words that came to her lips. It made her feel a little better. Padma, across from her, lifted her head. Her eyebrows raised in shock but her lips twitched in amusement.
"That's it." She said, sitting up. "Get it out, Hermione."
Padma thought she was talking about Ronald, but Hermione knew precisely who she was directing the speech too when she glared at the wood of the table and started to speak.
"You know what Pads?" Hermione said while Padma nodded encouragingly, "Men are by far the stupidest creature I have ever come across."
Padma giggled and nodded.
"They think they can just swan around with their hair and their muscles and we'll all just fall over ourselves trying to make them happy…"
Hermione continued, jabbing a finger as she rambled angrily. Padma was grinning, interjecting in agreement when she could. Hermione, after a good few minutes of ranting, leant back.
"Alright." She said, sounding calmer. "I feel a bit better now. Thank you."
Padma reached across the table and patted her hand. She was smiling, but her eyes still held a little bit of pity. Hermione didn't like it, mostly because Padma didn't even know the half of it.
"Good evening, ladies. Hope we're not interrupting an intimate moment." Blaise swooped in on them, drink in one hand and Malfoy trailing at his heels.
"Zabini," Padma said, taking her hand back from Hermione and shooting Blaise a small glare, "to what do we owe the pleasure?"
Blaise replied, but Hermione wasn't listening. She was trying to ignore the presence next to her, looming over her right shoulder.
"Granger." Draco purred, clearly a few drinks away from sober.
"Malfoy." She muttered through gritted teeth. She refused to look up; instead, she focused her glare on one ice cube floating innocently in her drink.
"I was hoping I could borrow you," Draco said, leaning against the back of the seating.
"Why?" Hermione was sure the ice cube would melt under her intense gaze.
Draco hesitated, clearly, he wanted to talk to her about something, probably not in front of Padma. Blaise, somehow managing to wiggle himself into Padma's good graces, was already settling himself into the booth next to the witch. Although they spoke to one another lightly, Hermione could feel the curious glances of both Blaise and Padma.
"I was hoping to discuss Malfoy Industries upcoming donation to W.O.F." Draco tried again.
Bollocks, Hermione cursed to herself again. He knew the exact strings to pull with her. She could ignore him for her own satisfaction but not over her job—sneaky bastard.
"Fine." She snapped. "Padma I'll be back in a bit, alright?"
Padma nodded, watching as she slid out of the seat and followed after Draco, clearly still in a huff.
Draco led Hermione to an empty corner near the front of the pub. It was dark and quiet. Hermione folded her arms against her chest and waited. If he wanted to talk, he could talk. She wasn't going to be the first one to make a move.
"I didn't know you were here," Draco said, and Hermione tried not to roll her eyes.
"Does it matter?" Blimey, she sounded like a brat even to her own ears.
Draco frowned down at her. Hermione still refused to look up and meet his eyes, she glared at his top button, just above eye level for herself.
"You didn't reply to my letter today." He stated, not questioned as if scolding an irresponsible toddler.
Hermione did roll her eyes this time, refocusing on the wood grain of the wall when Draco's chest became too distracting. She didn't want to look at him, she didn't want to have to look into those eyes while she pretended not to be fazed by him flirting with another woman across the room.
Hermione was sure he only came to talk to her because of Blaise; obviously, the wizard had warned Draco that she was there. She bit her lip wondering if Draco would have taken Astoria home if she hadn't been. Maybe he was still planning too. Or maybe, dignified women like Astoria didn't go home with a man after a few drinks. She probably even wore knickers under all her dresses.
"Just read the response from yesterday, it'll be the same." She muttered darkly.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Draco growled, folding his own arms and leaning closer to her.
Hermione let out an annoyed huff. She finally looked up; eyes narrowing. How dare he take that tone with her, what did he have to be annoyed about?
"I don't need you to check on me every day." She snapped, "I'm not some invalid you have to look after."
Draco flinched back at her words.
"You're annoyed at me for caring?" He snapped, his face turning up into a sneer to match her own.
"No." Hermione said, "I'm not."
She was annoyed because his 'caring' was like a concerned customer, writing her daily to ensure his accidental order was still progressing on schedule. Hermione was annoyed because she'd thought she was doing the right thing when she told him she wanted to be friends. She was annoyed because Draco had gone from someone she craved being around to a cold, hard stranger the second sex was off the table.
She was annoyed because she missed the Draco she'd barely even known for a week. The man who got her sandwiches and breakfast and wore colourful socks. She missed with playful letter writer and nosey elf house; she missed the flirting and teasing. She was annoyed because she missed that man. And she was annoyed that she missed him.
"Well, you're clearly annoyed at me about something," Draco said, rubbing his brow.
"Not everything is about you, Malfoy." Hermione hissed.
Except it was, of course. His Manor. His fire whisky. His sex. His baby. His friendship. His dismissal of her. To make it all that much worse, Hermione had, just over two weeks ago, been prepared to go through this pregnancy alone. She'd prepared herself to be rejected by Draco and raise a child as a single mother. Hermione'd known it was a possibility. She'd even offered him an out. Yet Draco had insisted he wanted to be there. So, she'd begun to depend on him. Less than a week later he's promised her regardless of whether they liked each other or not he'd be there for their child. She'd thought that despite the mess Draco was a good man.
Then she'd taken away sex, and he'd cut her out. He'd kept his promise about being there for the child but, damn it, Hermione hadn't been prepared for how much it hurt.
"This certainly seems to be." Draco snapped.
"Look," Hermione said, waving a hand and trying to dismiss the conversation. "I don't want to do this with you right now. Padma will be waiting for me, and you've clearly got someone waiting for you. Why don't you go enjoy yourself and I'll-"
Draco cut her off with a derisive snort, his eyebrows lifting.
"You're pissed off because I'm talking to Astoria, aren't you?" He said.
"No!" Hermione lied, her voice going shrill as it always did when she was caught out. "It certainly seemed like more than just talking from where I was standing."
Draco smirked, as Hermione bit down on her lip. Shit. She shouldn't have said that.
"You are." He scoffed. "You're annoyed because you think I was flirting with another woman."
"I am not!" Hermione moved as she hissed at him, trying to shuffle away from him.
"You were the one who wanted to be friends, Hermione." Draco shifted, his larger frame blocking her. "Friends, remember. We had one rule: no sex."
"I know what I said!" She spat back, hating to be lectured.
"So why are you angry if I'm talking to someone else?" Draco threw one arm out, clearly losing his temper and composure in a very un-Malfoy like manner.
"I'm not!" Hermione "It's just that-" You're over there trying to get into another woman's pants while I'm the one pregnant with your child.
Hermione bit her tongue, not daring herself to say the rest of her thought. Draco, however, looked furious. He crossed his arms defensively across his chest and sneered down at her from his nose.
"What, Granger?" He said, "Just spit it out."
Hermione glared at him. She knew she should just walk away. Hermione needed to cool down before she said something just to be spiteful. She wanted him to hurt, to know what it was like. Despite her better judgement, she crossed her own arms against her chest.
"Astoria?" Hermione wrinkled her nose. "Of all the people, she's… She's just so-"
"What?" Draco growled, uncrossing his arms and taking a menacing step towards her. Hermione stood her ground as he hissed, "Slytherin? Pureblood? Wealthy? Tell me what's so wrong with Astoria, Hermione? I'll remind you that I am all those things and you had no issue crawling into bed with me-"
"I was going to say young!" Hermione snapped, looking around briefly to ensure no one was trying to listen in on their conversation.
Liar, hissed her brain. She wasn't going to say young. Hermione had meant perfect, or gorgeous, or dignified, or… not her. She couldn't admit to that, however, so she'd found the first thing to come to her mind and tried to hide behind it ineffectually.
Draco scoffed, eyes blazing as she glared back at him.
"She's was only two grades below us at Hogwarts." He said, "I'll have you know if my father hadn't have gone to Azkaban, I would have married Astoria."
Hermione opened her mouth but stopped, his words biting like a slap to the face. Oh, she thought, he didn't just want to sleep with Astoria. What was she meant to say to sort of a statement?
Draco had made it clear. He would rather be with Astoria. Hermione bit her lip and looked away, trying to stop the painful hole in her chest. She felt like she'd be punched in the gut, Draco's declaration making it clear that she was an inconvenient complication on his path to a real woman.
Draco was entirely within his right to go after Astoria, she reminded herself, he'd even offered to do the 'right thing' when he found out she was pregnant. Still, it hurt knowing how relieved he must have been when she said she only wanted to be friends. She knew he was free to pursue other women if he wished to but gods, she hadn't expected how much it would hurt to hear the words coming out of his mouth. Why was he even bothering to play house with her if he'd intended to secure himself a pretty Pureblood wife?
Hermione backed away a few steps. She couldn't hand this, not now, not with the painful push of hormone fuelled tears building at his words. Her eyes pricked, and Hermione could feel the burn of tears building. She tried to push them back. Hormones, it was just her stupid hormones. She tried to convince herself, but it was too much. It wasn't hormones that were ripping her apart.
Draco's face dropped, watching her attempt at composure.
"Hermione," he whispered softly, reaching out an arm to her, "Gods, Hermione, I-"
"Don't," she said, shaking her head. "Just don't, Draco."
She knew his words of sympathy would only hurt more. Hermione walked away, desperately hoping he wouldn't follow her.
First of all, Sorry! I wasn't meant to leave this chapter on another angsty cliffhanger but it just ended up being far too long. I'll try and get the next chapter on Friday so you don't have to wait too long.
I also just wanted to say thank you again to everyone who has reviewed, followed or favourited- you're all amazing! I never expected the amount of readers this fic has gathered, I've seen a lot of names pop up multiple times and I justed to let you know I adore you all. You make writing and posting all the more fun.
My slightly sadistic side also revelled in the number of paragraph comments I received on the last chapter while you raged at Hermione, sorry, I promise she'll sort herself out sometime soon. There's a lot of emotions for both of them to work through right now.
See you on Friday,
Nif.