AN: Before we begin, I just wanted to say thank you to everyone for being so patient for this story to update. I know it is much later than the estimated date I gave on my story update, but finally we are back. I have more to say, but I'll leave that for my AN at the end. I hope you enjoy!

A Beautiful Lie - As the Seventh Month Dies

There were days where Harry thought something was wrong with him. And days where he knew there was.

The south of France was more beautiful than he could ever have imagined. Blue skies and warm nights interchanged seamlessly in the cycle of an endless summer. He struggled to remember the last time he'd seen the sun slip behind the cover of a cloud or the hint of rain on the horizon. The air was sweet, the breeze cool, and the world at peace. It was perfect.

Yet still he could not shake the irritation that pricked his core.

Sticking along his skin was a pale blue set of summer robes, smooth as silk, and darkening with his building perspiration. He was uncomfortable, broiling beneath the open sky. It's only just a warm stretch, he reminded himself while peeling the damp fabric off his arm. He'd asked Apolline about the weather near a week ago as she sat on her favorite chaise for reading, only to find that his concerns over a heat wave were unfounded.

It will pass. Weather shifts and changes more than a moody metamorphmagus. Except that was not the case. Nothing had changed in recent weeks, not the food, not the company, not the weather. Only himself.

It was fleeting at first, odd moments where something simply didn't feel right, but like a shadow, it grew. His moods grew darker by the day, pulling him deeper and deeper into a pit he was all too familiar with.

He wanted to act. To do something after sitting in hiding for so long. The draw of the Elder wand was a constant itch that called for his attention, thirsting for destruction.

Harry pulled at his collar. The heat. It's only the heat. He tried again to convince himself, but to no avail. The world had given him what he'd always wanted, and he'd come to hate it.

Off in the distance, Harry could just make out a streak of silver over the blue sky, and behind that a whoop of joy. Even in his agitation a smile crept up the edge of his lips.

"Do you think she'll ever grow tired?" Grass crunched off to his side, though Harry's gaze did not break. His eyes continued to trace the soaring figure.

"I never did," he said simply.

"That doesn't make me feel any better." Harry could feel the light puff of Fleur's breath against his cheek, and turned just enough to see her clasp her arms around her knees.

"It's only the truth."

"An unfortunate one," Fleur hummed in response, staring off to where he'd been looking only moments before. The world is filled with too many of those, Harry thought to himself as he admired her profile in silence: the point of her nose, the gentle curve of her jaw, and the loose hangings of hair that obscured her eyes. Not even her presence could make his time here any more bearable.

Harry wasn't even sure what day it was anymore, most likely the end of July or early August if he had to hazard a guess. Not like it really matters anymore, I'm not going back to school. He left Hogwarts a ruin, and Durmstrang was not faring any better. Was Beauxbatons the only school in Europe still standing? Perhaps some of his friends would be finishing their last year under Madame Maximes guidance, if they were fortunate enough to escape…

"She's quite good." Harry glanced up to find Fleur looking at him with a queer smile and glint in her eyes that he could not place.

"Of course she is," Harry said, a hint of pride coloring his voice, "I'm the one who taught her."

"You also tried to teach me." She quirked her brow at him as Harry ran a hand through his dark, shaggy hair.

"Unfortunately, you were a hopeless student." There was a gasp just before an elbow prodded him in the side.

He remembered that afternoon quite clearly despite it feeling as though a lifetime had passed since then. It was a day much like today, bright and cloudless and clear, and a time when everything seemed much more tolerable to Harry. It had been Gabrielle's birthday, and after a breakfast of crêpes and cake (to her specific request) a suspiciously shaped present was laid in front of her, all wrapped in parchment. "'Arry! 'Arry! 'Arry! Enseignez-moi, s'il vous plait! 'Arry!" He could still hear the excitement bursting from her with a new Nimbus in hand. She was crystal eyed, completely forgetting the anger she had been holding on to for weeks for hiding his identity from her. How could he possibly say no? And so went a many of afternoons teaching Gabrielle to fly.

"You've been gone all day. I thought you booked the day off work?" Harry said after a pause.

Fleur shifted herself to better face him. "I'm surprised that you even noticed."

Harry could feel the chill of her words, but he let them pass over him. The initial warmth that had built between them with his arrival at the Delacour home had slowly faded upon Fleur's return to the ICW. With the trail on Grindelwald falling cold, Fleur had been recalled to work much sooner than expected, with her suspension being lifted prematurely. "Just because I'm not around doesn't mean I don't pay attention," Harry said. I can't afford to miss anything. Not anymore.

"Where do you even go?" She asked, nearly jumping up off the grass as Gabrielle pulled out of a wobbly dive that nearly saw her lose control of the broom.

Harry sat still, unworried, knowing the next dive would be better. The one after that as well, and in twenty she'll be decent. She'll never stop making mistakes, but she'll learn from the old ones. It was almost soothing watching her glide across the sky, learning to trust herself and the tool beneath her. He could feel a lone bead of sweat drip down the length of his spine as he continued to observe her progress, before finally answering. "Nowhere in particular. I just like the feeling of being out here." Harry shrugged, not wanting to mention how difficult it had become for him to stand the presence of others.

Here he was, waking to fresh meals and lazy days with people who cared for him, and rather than be thankful for finding the home he'd always wanted, his stomach was a mess of uneasy knots. Britain was submerged in darkness, exposed to Voldemort's cruelty, and here he was lounging in fields of green and purple. My first real summer vacation. The thought made Harry laugh.

Fleur turned to him, her eyes as pale as mirrors. Where once he could have drowned in their depths, he was now forced to turn away from the guilt that was reflected back at him. "Harry?" Fleur's voice was soft, and a warmth settled over his hand. He pulled away gently but she held firm.

A sharp buzz broke the still air from behind them, and Harry turned to see a folded piece of parchment swoop towards Fleur, who picked it out of the air. It reminded Harry of the airplanes that zipped around the Ministry carrying the memos of whatever business was going on. Fleur stood. It seemed she had been expecting the note. "Gabrielle! It's time to come inside!" She called in French, her voice amplified by the wand at her throat. Immediately, the young girl looped around and shot off in the direction of the house. "She'll give Maman a fit," Fleur laughed lightly to herself, though her eyes still searched his own.

"It comes with flying. Ron and the twins probably shaved years off of Mrs. Weasley's life with their antics." Closing his eyes, Harry could picture those memories as clear as day. Upon opening them, the only response was silence. Fleur walked a half-step ahead of him with her arms crossed under the buttons of her thin blouse. It took him only a moment to realize his mistake. At least I'll have a few more minutes of silence…

The silence did him no good. Soon the mere presence of Fleur and the sound of her footsteps was enough to disturb him. His skin was sticky like sap, clinging to his robes to the point where he felt wrapped like a mummy. Harry pulled at his collar, trying to circulate some amount of cool air around his body in relief. He thought of using a cooling charm, but dismissed it. Just the touch of the Elder Wand in his hand was enough to give him hot flashes.

The Delacour home rising over the crest of the hill was a welcome sight. At least I'll be able to get out of this bloody sun. A nice cool glass of water was in order, as well as a change of clothes.

Those thoughts quickly disappeared the moment he stepped into the home. It was strangely silent. Apolline couldn't be heard muttering softly to herself, book in hand, and the music that so often floated between rooms was noticeably absent. A stirring of suspicion grew within Harry. Turning to his right and then his left, Fleur was gone. His hand moved to the Elder Wand without grasping it.

A single, low groan sounded from the hardwood in front of him, just as a hulking figure stepped into the doorway. "Hello Harry." Their accent was thick and their face a scowl. "It is a velcome surprise, no?"

Harry laughed, short and abrupt. "It certainly is a surprise. What are you doing here Viktor?"

His old friend wore a half-smile, showing more emotion than his usual sulking self. It did well to make him look better than he actually was, lighting his dark eyes to distract from the heavy circles surrounding them; and wrinkling his cheeks, taking away from their sunken appearance. It was superficial, but Harry could see the weight of his troubles pressing down on him.

"Last time I saw you, you vere pig boy. Now I come visit and you are skinny again. Next time vill you be big and strong like me?" He asked with a level voice and a hard stare. There was a moment where nothing happened. Then he started coughing. No, not coughing, Harry realized, he's laughing. It was joke. Harry wasn't sure if he could recall Viktor attempting humor in the past. "It is good to see the real Harry Potter again, especially on his birthday," he said.

Birthday? Harry's mind slowed in thought…

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" Harry nearly jumped, his hand brushed against his wand, sending heat crawling up his neck and black spots dancing in his eyes. Across the room he could see Fleur coming in holding a cake, and behind her, Apolline and Laurent, who's arms were bundled with several bottles of wine. A silver bolt came crashing into him, disorienting him further. "Joyeux anniversaire!" Gabrielle's voice was muffled against his torso.

Harry had yet to move an inch. It's my Birthday. He struggled to believe clicked by in his mind as he tried to count the time that had passed. It was impossible. One day bled into the next, with memories and frustrations mixing so that he could not place what went where. He pulled at his collar. Seventeen, the number came to him, I'm only seventeen. He felt much older than that.

"A man," Viktor spoke again, smiling fully. "You could finally put your name in the Goblet if you vanted."

Harry smiled, though it felt false on his face. "Once was enough for me, thanks."

"Enough to come out victorious!" The boisterous voice of Monsieur Delacour joined in. He passed a glass of wine to Harry and floated another to Viktor, before sipping his own. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see Fleur staring sharply at Viktor, who's brows furrowed deeply while drinking, ignoring her. "What ever happened to that prize money?"

Harry left his drink untouched off to the side. His head was pounding hard enough to begin with, and he would much prefer water. "I gave the money to some friends, it helped start their business."

Laurent took a seat and reclined, his glass resting against the curve of his belly. "Ah, a wise investment," he said.

It wasn't meant to be. I only wanted the blood off my hands. Harry nodded instead.

"Come, enough talk. Let us eat and celebrate!" Apolline called from the dining room, where she had set an entire meal that seemed to appear out of thin air. The food was delicious, and across from him, Fleur sat beaming. He now understood what she had been up to all day. It was a shame he couldn't truly enjoy it, too put off by the heat of the others in the room. Outside, the sun was still strong, the summer days stretched long here in the south of France, and inside it was even worse.

The dinner dragged on endlessly, meaningless chatter filled the air, and at every opportunity Harry was pulled into the conversation. He tried to smile, he tried to converse, he tried to enjoy himself, but he just could not make himself comfortable. Fleur's eyes flickered between him and Viktor, who sat silently drinking more wine. His respite came with Gabrielle talking animatedly about flying and Apolline about her novels, but still they looked to Harry for his opinion.

Soon, the conversation turned to work, which proved to be enough to lift Viktor's head from his glass. It was menial at first, day-to-day business and office gossip and stories, but as the discussion continued, Harry could feel the pressure of Viktor's gaze on him…

"Your Ministry is doing vell," he said, his words slurring slightly.

Harry could feel his throat dry, and reached for his water. Viktor refilled his own glass. "Well?" Harry asked, unsure.

"Vell enough, I suppose." Viktor shrugged and drank deeply. "Ve had thought they vould have collapsed by now. From vat ve could learn Voldemort vas very close to taking over. There vas a plan in place for tomorrow to assassinate your Minister Scrimgeour. A pair of Aurors caught a Death Eater… Yaxley, I think vas his name, putting an Imperius curse on the head of the Department of Law."

"Which Aurors?" Harry asked abruptly.

Viktor clutched his head a moment, thinking, before shaking it. "I am not sure. I only know that Yaxley escaped, but not before killing the Department Head and injuring one of the Aurors."

A cord of dread wrapped around him. He desperately hoped that it wasn't Tonks who was injured. She had been through much and more in this war, and he wasn't sure if he could handle her possibly dying as saved the Ministry at least, he thought, looking at the bright side of the issue. Yaxley had gone free, but the fate he was facing might just be worse than death. On some nights, Harry could still hear Mulciber's broken screams echoing when he closed his eyes. Voldemort's mercies were pitiless and cruel. The taste of bile filled his mouth at the thought of their past connection.

"None of that matters," Viktor said, much louder than he likely intended to. His calloused hand reached out to refill his glass, and Fleur moved to slow him down. Without consideration, he brushed past her and refilled it to the brim, drinking deeply once again. The glass hit the table with a smack, shooting red over its edges, where it pooled along the tablecloth like blood. "Voldemort doesn't matter. Not vith Grindelwald still out."

"Viktor," Fleur warned, her eyes darting to the rest of her family, who to this point sat quietly.

"Nothing. For months, nothing." His voice was heavy and gruff. "I do not sleep. I cannot rest. Not vith that bastard free."

"Fleur." Monsieur Delacour spoke quickly to his daughter, his wife's hand gripping his arm.

"For fifty years he rotted in Nurmengard, ven he sould have been killed. Dumbledore vas a coward!" Harry felt himself twitch. "He valks on ground soaked in blood. My grandfather's blood!" His fist smashed against the table, sending up wine and rattling cutlery, and suddenly his voice dropped dangerously. "Like a viper, he hides, vaiting and vaiting. But I am a hawk, patient, and vhen he strikes I vill be ready. I vill kill Grindelwald! Him and whoever is helping him! I VILL KILL THEM BOTH!"

"Viktor!" Fleur's voice cut like a knife. "Enough!" Her wand was pointed at his chest, her fingers shifting restlessly at its base.

Whatever spell of madness had fallen over him was lifted slowly like a veil. Hunched and clearly drunk he looked around the room speechless. He froze with a strange scowl on his face, staring at Gabrielle, who was wide-eyed and clearly shaken from what she'd just seen. Turning quicker than he should have, he stumbled over the legs of his chair, knocking the remainder of the wine out of his glass in his attempt to catch himself. "Excuse me… I need air." He fled the room.

Harry broke the silence. "I think I might leave as well…"

"No! No, no, it's fine—we're all fine!" Apolline's voice was high-pitched, and her wand fumbled in her hand as she tried to clear up most of the spill. "Come let us cut the cake."

It was decorated like a snitch, with a circle topped in golden icing and wide outstretched wings. It was impressive, but his mind was elsewhere. He hardly heard them sing to him in French, though in truth it was mostly Apolline carrying the tune with Gabrielle; Laurent stood with an endless stare and locked jaw, and Fleur was as pale as snow. He took his piece and it filled his mouth, but he tasted nothing.

Looking at them, and everything around him, he slowly came to a realization. They don't get it. None of them do. No matter how hard they tried to make the world seem as though it was perfect, it simply wasn't. Viktor understood that. He showed it tonight, and Harry could respect him for that.

Outside, the sun had fallen. With the night coming to a close, Laurent bundled his daughter upstairs, but not before a final birthday greeting. Apolline took away the leftover cake and cleared away the table, leaving only him and Fleur.

She looked to him with soft eyes. "I'm sorry about tonight. I wanted it to be a nice surprise."

"It was a surprise alright." Harry touched the table to center himself, feeling his head swim. "But thanks, it was… appreciated."

"I had a gift for you," Fleur said, and reached into her pocket. Harry's mind went to the last time they had shared a gift, and the way Fleur looked at him spoke that she did as well. "It isn't like the cloak, but… here, take it." She handed him something heavy that fit smoothly into the palm of his hand. It was a watch of some sort, silver and gleaming. It was beautiful in an antique way; militaristic, with worn scratches that had been carefully buffed out into thin lines. "It's a wizard's watch," she said, "it's tradition to be given when a wizard reaches their majority." Harry continued to stare, watching the planets spin around its outer edge, and several nameless dials spin counter to each other. "It's from Viktor and I… he told me it once belonged to his grandfather during the war. He wanted you to have it."

Harry's heart sank. Only seconds before it had been one of the most magnificent gifts he had ever received, and now he could hardly look at it. I don't deserve this. Why did he give this to me? It's a curse. The world was a cruel place.

Looking back up, Fleur stood only a foot away. "I know you aren't feeling well." Harry wanted to argue, but she pressed on. "I know staying here is difficult for you. But I wanted to show you that we care… and that there are things to live for…"

"I know there are things to live for," he said.

Somehow Fleur was only a breath away. "Then don't forget that, because I'll…" Her words faded unsaid, and then her lips were touching his. They were so soft and moving fervently, but quicker than they started, they were suddenly stopped. A violent CRASH broke them apart.

"Viktor," he could hear her whisper, but her eyes continued to search his, and again he was faced with the reflection of his own guilt. Harry looked away. I have everything I ever wanted, but I can't enjoy it like this. I never will…

Fleur was gone by the time he recovered, rushing in the direction of the sound, leaving him alone. For the first time that evening he felt like he could breath. Oxygen filled his lungs, and his shoulders dropped in relief, releasing tension he didn't know he had been carrying. Taking his invisibility cloak from his pocket, he covered himself and stepped outside into the coming darkness. As it had been for weeks now, the cloak was his refuge, immediately freeing him from the pressing heat. But still his head continued to pound.

He travelled across the yard and down the hill the house rested on. Warmth still lingered in the twilight, though a breeze was now whistling through the air. Harry kept the cloak on, despite knowing the darkness was thick enough to cover him. He could feel the pull of the Elder Wand pricking his fingers like static, and looking around, he decided it was far enough. Grasping it, the wand jolted in his hand, its power coursing fiercely up his arm. His steps faltered with the burning pain, and Harry fought to keep moving. He'd done this numerous times before. He could do it again.

Ahead, he could see a great swaying mass stretching out in front of him like the black waves of an open ocean. Taking a step into its depths, the surface rippled around him from left to right, and with each step a sweetness was sent up that filled the air. This was his favorite part of the night, crossing this flowery sea.

Lavender clung to him, even hundreds of feet beyond the field. Harry did not mind, it made this last leg of the journey more bearable. The wand continued to pulse, growing stronger and stronger with each beat the further he travelled and the longer it went unused.

Growing from the ground in the distance was a grove he'd come across in his early explorations of the countryside. The trees stood dark and towering, like skeletal figures that had risen from the earth long ago. Through a break in the tress, a pool shone pale at the center of a clearing, and it was here that he could unleash himself.

Taking off the cloak, the burning almost overwhelmed him, but his wand quickly flashed and a spurt of water shot out of the pool like a fountain. His head slowly cleared, and with the flick of his wrist, several smaller streams split off from the central one. In spite of the stinging and throbbing, it felt good. The feel of magic flowing over him was as refreshing as it had been the previous evenings. After long days of frustration, coming here to this secret grove was the only thing keeping him from going mad. Twisting his wand, the strands of water spun around themselves before plunging back into the pool with hardly a splash.

The Elder Wand continued to burn and pull, and Harry felt alive. With the deftest of flicks the ground exploded. Dirt and dust and grass went flying through the air, and within the debris stood seven great pillars. Thinking back to his duel with Voldemort he cast a spell that was used against him. It was dark magic, very dark, but that meant little to him anymore. From the end of his wand crawled shadows that reached through the air like grasping hands. They surrounded the earthen pillars like a storm, churning with their malice and eating away at the magical constructs until they crumbled and vanished. Circling once more counterclockwise, the shadows vanished and everything returned to as it once was.

He could hardly stand the touch of the Elder Wand, as it burnt like an iron rod in his hand. Breathing deeply, he prepared for a spell that had saved his life on separate occasions. It was wild and untamed and nature in all of its fury, but still he worked to bring it under his control. He could feel the clouds gathering and the breeze pick up, whipping his dark hair across his face. Soon he was at the center of a fearsome storm that tore at the roots of the trees so that they groaned, bucking under his will wanting nothing more than to break free and wreak havoc. Clamping down, the wand blistering his skin, Harry commanded the storm to condense, and directed it towards the moonlit pool. Slowly, the winds obeyed and tightened around him, and he clenched his teeth in pain. They moved off to the pool, lifting water as they did so. Harry groaned, it felt as though there was a hold being burned through his hand. I can't… Suddenly it was too much, and the Elder Wand dropped from his hand.

Released from its leash, he felt the full fury of the storm he'd conjured as it turned on him, and for a heartbeat he was terrified. But before he could so much as react, the winds vanished.

Harry scrambled for his wand, his ears still buzzing with noise. It was seconds later that he realized what he was hearing was something entirely different. It was a flapping sound. Looking up, shining against the dark sky, a white horse come riding down from the heavens on outstretched wings, and like a God on its back was an old man.

Gracefully it landed on solid ground and the man hopped off, petting the beast as he did so.

"You." Harry said accusingly.

"Me." Grindelwald smiled.

There was a blur amongst the darkness and Harry was blasted back, landing harshly at the base of a tree with no air in his lungs. He lay there gasping and staring at the stars above. His mind was a mess, but his instincts screamed at him to get up.

"How… did… you…" Harry sat up on his knees, unable to finish his question between wheezes.

Grindelwald seemed to know what he was asking. "It's not a new one. In fact, it's quite the opposite. My original." He spun the dark wand between his fingers. "At Durmstrang we were taught wands are sacred, that few things are as unforgiveable as destroying one. But what happens when a student is expelled? The wand cannot be snapped, going against the school's strict code. No, instead it is stored. And when something is stored, it can be retrieved."

"You attacked a school for a wand?"

"Not just any wand, Mr. Potter. The only wand that will faithfully respond to me." His eyes drifted to the wand in Harry's hand, and an arc of violet came shooting towards him forcing Harry to shield.

Harry countered with his own exploding curse, but Grindelwald batted it away effortlessly. Steel spikes materialized from thin air and were directed at Harry. He curved them out of his way, but not far enough as one still managed to catch him in the arm, drawing blood. Drawing from the pain, Harry ripped his wand in a cross, summoning beasts from the earth that charged at Grindelwald. As they leaped, they contorted grotesquely into avian creatures who dove back at Harry. A translucent barrier of gold sparkled to life in front of him, and as each creature crossed it fell apart into specks dust. Suddenly, a stone hand burst from the ground beneath him, closing itself around his ankle. He severed it quickly, but in his distraction there was a flash of red and a sharp pain that came with deep gash that tore into his thigh.

"You're fighting the wand." Grindelwald's voice was harsh as he spat out another curse. Harry bit back a retort, and threw a severing curse aimed at his neck. "You will never kill me without the wand, and still you fight it." He taunted.

Harry could feel the wand burning without mercy, and swallowing the pain, he threw a ribbon of air that could cut through steel.

Laughing, Grindelwald twisted and directed it at a tree, cutting through it and three others behind it. "That's much better," he said, as three black streaks came bolting from him like lightning, arcing and crackling through the dust. Spinning on his heel, Harry apparated just out of reach, seconds before they ripped deep gashes where he had only just been standing. With the ground still shaking, a great gust of flame belched twenty feet in the air, illuminating the grove with its orange haze. Like a burning serpent it twisted beneath the sky with such intensity Harry could feel his sweat steaming off his skin. Again, he could feel the wand searing his palm and pulling at him agonizingly, enough to waver his concentration. The firestorm halted, and then it was torn from his grasp.

"Weak." Grindelwald shouted. Something pierced Harry, dropping him to one knee. "Accept the wand!" A storm of spells came flying at Harry, who shielded himself in desperation. The Elder Wand only grew hotter with each spell that impacted the invisible barrier. "Do you want to die?" Above them, the fire had turned into a great, spinning vortex. Spells continued to bombard him and Harry was left cowering, gripping the Elder Wand with both hands and all his remaining strength. There was a pause, and Harry looked up to see Grindelwald shadowed in the fiery light. It seemed as though he was waiting for something. "Then die," he finally said, and in his exhaustion Harry thought the old man sounded almost sad.

The sky rained fire. Harry stood motionless, watching the red glare approach. Accept the wand, a voice whispered to him, accept the wand and its powers will be yours. He would die in a rain of red, leaving nothing behind but ash. What would Fleur think had happened? Viktor? He could feel the heaviness of the watch in his pocket. Accept the wand! It screamed at him. He was awash in flames.

Harry plunged the wand deep into the earth, and it burned. It burned like nothing had burned before. Was it the wand? Or was he burning alive? Scarlet and gold circled him, flashing and licking, and filling his lungs with smoke. He heard screaming and crackling and a deep dark rumble off in the distance. Light filled his vision, blinding him, and then everything changed. The pain was gone. The heat was gone. There was only power. It was as though the spirits of warlocks of ages past came rushing through his veins, filling him with something that felt greater than any magic before. Something was building inside him, building and building, and then the world was torn in two.

Lightning struck the pool—a single, yellow bolt the size of a tree trunk. Magic and electricity coursed through the air on some invisible web, lighting everything in its path before flashing to darkness. The fire was gone and only a queer smell remained. At the center of the steaming earth, standing and smiling was Grindelwald. "Now our work begins."

AN2:

Thank you so much for reading, I hope the wait for this chapter wasn't too bad.

Taking a break from writing was very difficult for me, especially as I felt as though I was on a role and really hitting my stride. But life gets in the way and there's not much we can do. For me, getting back into writing was even more difficult. I struggled with this chapter more so than any other I had written before. I cut, chopped, rearranged, and scrapped too many sections and drafts for me to count. And for the longest time I was hit with a lot of self doubt about not only this story, but my writing as a whole. I finally managed to overcome that and bring you this, and I hope it was worth it. Please let me know your thoughts, it means a lot to me, especially given the difficulty this chapter proved to be. Thanks, and now things should be back on track.