Disclaimer: I only own the plot and some characters you do not recognize.
A/N: Some readers begged and probably screamed. Others actually threatened me. But fear not, my dear readers, because the chapter you all have been anticipating for has finally come *wink* *wink*. I know I updated a little earlier than usual but eh, I just felt like it.
So, review afterwards and I do wish that you will thoroughly enjoy this chapter! :)
Chapter Twenty-Five: Me Too
"Good morning," her Divinations teacher greeted her as soon as Hermione opened her eyes.
The brunette was confused at first, wondering what Sybill Trelawney was doing in her room. 'Wait, I'm still in Narnia, right?' she asked herself, slowly sitting up from her bed. The events of yesterday then came back into her mind and with an amused smile, she regarded her professor with relief.
"Professor Trelawney," she greeted back. "You're up early." When Hermione looked outside the window, the sun was still rising.
"Oh, dear girl, we are not in Hogwarts anymore," the older witch said. "Calling me 'Sybill' is enough. And I couldn't sleep last night. I'm still adjusting in this wonderful castle."
Hermione nodded and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. "Somehow reminds you of Hogwarts, right?" she softly asked, looking around her room. "The same stone walls and floors… the same ambiance before Voldemort and the Death Eaters took over the Wizarding World. You will adjust here perfectly, Sybill. Just think that this is our home, our Hogwarts."
Sybill nodded and smiled. "Narnia did you some good, Hermione," she said, placing a hand on the brunette's arm.
"You, too," Hermione replied back, observing her teacher from head to toe. Trelawney now dressed normally. There were no scarves, colourful baubles and pieces of jewellery hanging around her neck. Her dizzying smell was now also replaced by the mild scent of soap. Now that she was not wearing her glasses anymore, her eyes were at their normal shape. Her eccentricity seemed gone and Hermione concluded that Narnia had mellowed down her strange teacher.
"I have to go to Queen Lucy's room for a while," she then said. "I have to wake her up."
Trelawney nodded. "I'll take my time observing Cair Paravel for now," she said.
They both walked out of Hermione's bedroom at the same time but went separate ways.
Now that Hermione was walking alone, she was able to properly ponder everything that had happened. Last night had almost been surreal for her. She thought it was a dream, even if Sybill had slept in the same room with her. She insisted that her old professor to room with her, knowing that her bed would allow two occupants. It was another spur-of-the-moment thing and Hermione reckoned it was probably because she was too thrilled and relieved to know that there was a familiar face here in Narnia with her.
Funny how her likeness for Sybill Trelawney was steadily growing. She now remembered how she shamefully left her class during her third year all because she thought that she was a fraud. Well, her oddness was almost unbearable but now that she knew Sybill was the one who prophesized the great war in Hogwarts and the great war here in Narnia, she thought she was incredible.
Speaking of the great war, Hermione's heart thudded wildly inside her chest just thinking about it. The prophetess herself confirmed that she was the one being talked about in the prophecy; that she, and nobody else, would have the chance to defeat the White Witch once they confronted.
Just the idea that she would play an extremely vital role in Narnia made her nauseated. Of course she was used to responsibilities. As the brightest witch of her age, her teachers had enough trust in her to excel in all of her tests and projects. But this responsibility… it was different. Lives were at stake and if she made a wrong move, a lot of people would be affected.
"So, this is how you feel, Harry, huh?" Hermione softly asked with a wistful smile. Now, she finally understood all those 'angst' moments of her best friend. As the Chosen One, a lot was expected from her, even though she did not really want to do it.
Hermione earnestly clasped her hands and sighed. 'Help me, Harry,' she silently prayed to her best friend wherever he was. 'Help me save this beautiful kingdom.'
Her thoughts were halted once she arrived in front of Lucy's bedroom. She then twisted the knob and went inside. A bundle lay at the very middle of the vast bed and Hermione smiled. She approached the bedside table and lit the lamp.
"Lucy," she whispered, shaking the queen awake. "Lucy, it's time to wake up."
Her form shifted on the bed, the queen's head finally sticking out from the comforter. Her hair was a ridiculous mess as she stretched, some of her bones cracking. She opened her bleary eyes and focused themselves on her lady-in-waiting. "Good morning, Hermione," she said with a lazy smile.
Hermione returned back her smile and walked to her loo. She prepared a basin of water and a towel for the queen to freshen up. Lucy immediately washed her face and stood up from her bed. She immediately walked to her boudoir and scowled at her hair.
"I envy those people who have no care about their hair at all," Lucy grumbled at her reflection. She turned around and glared petulantly at Hermione. "Like you," she said, eyeing her wild mane of russet hair.
The brunette merely shrugged her shoulders and prepared Lucy's today outfit.
Once she had changed from her nightgown to her proper clothes, the queen and her lady-in-waiting both ventured to the Dining Hall.
When they arrived, everybody was there already, even Sybill. She was currently sitting beside Susan, who has baby Caspie on her lap, and when Hermione sat down across from her, she smiled.
"Now that we're complete, let us start," Peter said, gesturing at the scrumptious meal in front of him.
Hermione immediately helped herself with some peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a glass of orange juice.
They had talked about light things for a while. Inevitably, though, their conversation once again landed on the prophecy and the graveness it held.
"Have you been preparing, Miss Granger?" Sybill asked, her eyes a little dark with worry. "I… have this hunch that this war will be far greater than all of the other wars that had happened here in Narnia."
"We have been training her," Peter interjected. "I teach her horseback riding. Edmund teaches her swordsmanship. Susan and Caspian, archery. Lucy sometimes helps her research in the library and makes healing serums during their lessons."
Sybill nodded her head. "Good, good," she twittered distractedly. "It wouldn't do you some good if you are unprepared, dear girl. I trust that you still have the Sorting Hat with you?"
Hermione nodded with a frown. "I keep it inside my wardrobe," she answered.
Her professor smiled in relief. "Remember what I told you about it, Hermione," she said. "Remember because it is essential."
"Wait, I - "
Her words were cut down when Sybill suddenly raised her hand. "I am sure you will understand it soon," she said. "What with that brilliant head of yours."
The brunette shyly blushed and looked down at her plate.
Trelawney then shifted her gaze away from Hermione and then to the High King. "The war is looming," she said. "I know. I feel it. I think it is best if we all start doing our best from now on."
Peter nodded in agreement. "I must start preparing my soldiers, too," he said. "Start building more weapons, strategizing – Ed, that's your job - and strengthening my power."
"And, increase the times of my trainings," Hermione added, a determined and stubborn look on her face.
"Hermione, do not be too hard on yourself," Lucy said, holding her arm, but the brunette shook her head.
"You heard Sybill – the war is looming," she said. "Among all of us here in this room, I must be the one who will try her very hardest."
Her words had placed so much weight in the hearts of all the occupants in the Dining Hall. Nobody could deny the truth in her words.
Thus, starting from that day, Hermione's training became more intense. Peter had taught her how to do simple stunts while on her horse, which he deemed useful once they were already in the battlefield. That day's lesson had earned Hermione a few scratches, ugly bruises, and a promise of practicing more with Harry during her free times in the Gentle Meadows.
Her archery lessons were a little futile, though. It was painfully obvious for Hermione, Susan, and Caspian that archery was not Hermione's forte; they all agreed that Hermione must not use a bow and arrow during the battle itself if she wanted to survive. Nevertheless, they practiced a few basic things in case she needed them.
Both Lucy and Hermione deemed that their researches were not exactly that much useful anymore. Hermione had used to research because she wanted to go back to Hogwarts. Her past researches with Lucy were mostly about how she could do magic again but once they discovered from Trelawney that only Aslan would be able to bring back her magic, all they needed to do was wait. They sometimes made some healing serums and ointments from herbs and spices found in the forest for future use.
Her swordsmanship lessons with Edmund seemed to be the most useful of all. Her sword-handling skills were above average and they all agreed that this weapon would be very essential for Hermione in the war. She was also looking forward to doing something she actually was good at.
The problem, though, was her teacher.
"Don't mind me at all," Sybill had said as she lowered herself down on one of the windowsills in the Place of Arms. "I will just be reading here and you can go practice." She then hid her face behind a thick book and was soon losing herself in the words and imagery of the story.
Hermione awkwardly glanced at Edmund and inclined her head. Things had not changed between the two of them. Edmund still tried his very hardest to ignore her at all times, with an occasional small talk when needed to. Hermione gave up all glances of apology, knowing that in the end, they would be in vain anyway.
Their swordsmanship lesson was quite better, though, even if they had this mutual vow of not speaking to each other. After the little incident of almost injuring Hermione, they both agreed that they could converse during their lessons. Edmund's unspoken condition, though, was that everything must be strictly about swordsmanship lessons and nothing at all. Hermione found it fair, but she couldn't help but feel a little saddened by all of these. That wonderful friendship she used to have with Edmund was now strained all because of his ardent feelings and her rejection.
"What I'm about to teach you is a little… difficult," he said. Her eyes lit up despite his warning, knowing that a challenge awaited her. Hermione, after all, always loved challenges. "I'm telling you this because I cannot promise you that you won't be having any bruises or small wounds by the end of this session."
Hermione waved her hand in dismissal. "I had greater injuries before," she said. "Having a bruise seemed trivial now."
Edmund stared at her, bemused. Deep inside, he was amazed that she was the first girl who stated that she did not care about injuring her body at all.
He then cleared his throat, knowing where his thoughts would soon lead, and then pulled out his sword. He pointed it at Hermione. "Pull out your sword," he ordered and Hermione did what she was told to do so. "The first thing you need to do is to slam your hilt against the sword hand of the enemy." He gestured of slamming his hilt against her hand, the one clutching her sword. "Your goal is to make your enemy release his sword. You must hit hard or else this technique will be unsuccessful."
"Now, release your sword," he said. Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Go on. Let us pretend that I have forced that sword away from your hand."
Still a little skeptical, Hermione bent down and placed the sword gently on the ground. When she straightened up, she was reduced to silence when Edmund suddenly grabbed her sword hand and pulled her close. Just when she was about to crush against his chest, he twisted her arm and held it at her back. He pointed his sword against her neck to keep her in place. Hermione released a pained gasp, prompting Edmund to immediately release her arm.
He took a few quick steps back and pursed his lips. "I told you it would hurt," he said, watching as she massaged her now aching arm.
"Are you all right?" Sybill asked, now approaching the two. Her wand was brandished and with a wave of her wand, the dull ache on Hermione's arm was gone.
With an envious frown, she stared at her arm. Oh, how she wished she could be the one who had produced that magic. She gave Sybill a nod of thanks before looking back at Edmund. "Let's do that again," she said with determination.
He carefully stared at her before nodding his head. "All right," he said. "Now, get your sword and try to do it to me."
Hermione did what she was told to do so and clutched her sword. Edmund fell into the attack position, and Hermione copied him.
"First, you must fight me," he said. "The trick here is to tire your enemy. In that way, slamming your hilt against his hand would make him immediately release his sword."
Their swords then clanged. Ducks and swerves were made in order to avoid each others' blows. As minutes ticked by, Hermione observed in dismay that she was the one who was exhausted while Edmund was still managing to fight her back. She had raised her hand to halt him and bent down, gasping hastily for oxygen.
"Let us end this lesson for today," he had said, noticing how she was struggling to keep upright, but Hermione stubbornly shook her head. Edmund raised an eyebrow at her petulance. "Then I believe if you want to continue fighting, you must find a partner because I want to end this practice session already."
Hermione raised her chin in defiance and looked at her old teacher on the windowsill. "Sybill," she called, "do you know how to produce a clone? One that has the ability to have sword-fighting with me?"
"Why yes, of course, dear," she said. Her eyes strayed behind Hermione and saw and the furious shake of Edmund's head, his silent plea for her to decline reaching her. Trelawney raised an amused eyebrow and looked back at Hermione. "But I'm afraid I have some difficulty doing it. If I were to produce one now, I have this inkling it would harm you instead."
The relief on Edmund's face was immense; it brought a smile on Trelawney's face. Hermione, with a scowl, looked behind her. The king immediately schooled his features as he coolly stared at his student, raising a questioning eyebrow at her.
Hermione expelled a defeated sigh and looked back at Sybill. "All right, thank you, anyway," she said. The brunette then looked at Edmund once again and said, "We will have another session tomorrow, your majesty. And I would appreciate it if you do not make my old Divinations teacher as your accomplice."
She glared and then turned around, returning her sword at its proper place. Once she strode out from the Place of Arms, Edmund could not help but grin widely at the door.
Sybill Trelawney stared at him in amusement. "My dear boy, I do believe that you must be subtle about your feelings in the future," she said.
He blushed and stared at her, wide-eyed. "How did you - "
"I'm not a seer for nothing, King Edmund the Just," she said, slowly standing up from her seat. As she approached him, a mysterious look, on her face, she added, "All good things come to those who wait, your highness. Have patience and perhaps, your most desired wish will come true."
She then left the Place of Arms, leaving Edmund to ponder her words.
Hermione breathed in the night air as soon as she stepped outside the castle. Again, it was a fine night and she could not help but to leave her room and take a stroll outside.
She noted that it was almost midnight. Sybill had already retired to bed, and so did Lucy. Hence, it made Hermione decided to venture off to the garden since she still did not feel sleepy at all.
She descended the steps and her feet were soon stepping on the dewy grass. The sound of the nocturnal creatures reached her ears as she stepped deeper into the garden, meaning to stay in the gazebo for a few minutes. It had been a while ever since she had visited it, seeing that she was either too tired or too busy with her trainings.
Speaking with her training, her swordsmanship lesson with Edmund that night made Hermione disappointed. She still had not mastered the technique that her teacher was teaching her. In fact, all she was able to gain was a bruised hand.
Hermione flexed her right hand and flinched. An ugly purplish green decorated her hand and it had been a struggle for her to do some of her daily chores. Since Sybill was also busy that day, she was not able to give Hermione the time to heal her bruise.
'It's a reminder I must do better in the future, though,' she said, slightly massaging her bruise. With grim determination, Hermione finally decided that even if her whole arm would be covered with bruises, she would not give up until she was able to master this technique.
She had finally arrived in the gazebo but with a surprised gasp, she discovered that somebody had already arrived there first. Her eyes widened as they connected with Edmund's, an indecipherable expression on his face.
"I…" she started, swallowing a lump in her throat. "I better… get going then."
Abruptly, Edmund stood up and she backpedalled. Conflicting emotions appeared on his face and then, with blatant exhaustion, he sighed. "No, stay, this is getting ridiculous now," he mumbled with a frown. "It's tiring, don't you think?"
Open-mouthed, she stared at him. Did Hermione hear him right? Was he, for goodness' sake, finally admitting that what was happening between them was, for lack of a better word, ridiculous?
"Well?" he asked, nervously clearing his throat.
Hermione felt crying; the honest-to-God tears were threatening to fall. Instead, she was only able to manage to produce the widest grin that she could muster. Her arms tingled, wanting to launch into his arms and hug him tight in thanks, but decided against it in the end. She might as well act normal, though happy, instead of a maniacal, hysterical, blubbering idiot.
Wordlessly, she stepped into the gazebo and sat down on her usual place. She watched as the king released a soft sigh, and then once again plopped down on his seat .
"I… I've been thinking and I realized that it is unfair of me to get mad at you," he confessed, nervously staring at the table top. "The war is looming; the prophetess says so, and I believe you have enough worries in your mind and it is unjust of me to make you worry about, err, me too."
He released a nervous, soft chuckle, shaking his head at the same time. "If you must know, I sorely missed our banters," he said, a small smirk on his face. "And your condescending tone every time you remind me that I must be just and be true to Aslan's title for me."
His words had brought a smile on her face.
"I'm sorry," he then continued. He ran a tired hand through his face and sighed. "Ignoring you is tiring when everywhere I look, I see you - "
Hermione furiously blushed and coughed behind her hand, making Edmund realize what he had said.
"I swear to Aslan I will not force my feelings to you anymore," he said, a determined look on his face.
She froze on her seat, confused with the mixed feelings in her heart.
His eyes lingered on her right hand and Hermione realized that her ugly bruise was exposed for him to see. Before she could even hide it underneath the table, Edmund reached forward and clutched her right hand. Grimacing, he massaged it and even scowled when she flinched. "Why didn't you tell me it's this worse already?" he asked, annoyed.
Hermione raised an eyebrow at his sudden shift of mood. She hid a grin; definitely, this was Edmund Pevensie. "With all due respect, this does not concern you," she pointed out.
Edmund glared. "Well, it does, because I'm the one who's inflicting it," he said through gritted teeth.
"Worrywart," she said mindlessly. It was only when she saw the affronted look on Edmund's face when she finally understood what she said. Chuckling, she retrieved her hand back and waved a dismissive hand. "Merlin, I'll be okay. It's far from the stomach, see? And besides, Sybill will be able to heal it for me. She just did not have the time to do it today."
He narrowed his eyes, processing her words, before finally nodding his head. "All right, all right," he said. "On our next swordsmanship lesson, tell me when to stop already."
She merely raised an eyebrow at his request. "Worrywart," she repeated once again. "Dear Merlin."
"Stop calling me that," he said. "It's annoying." He sighed, some of his fringes flying on his forehead, making Hermione smile. "And this 'Merlin' you always call, he's not your dog, is he?"
Hermione chuckled, amused that he noticed such things. "You are familiar with the story of King Arthur, right?" she asked.
Edmund nodded. "Yes, fictional," he said.
"Only it is not," she contracted, smiling. "King Arthur has his trustworthy sorcerer in his court - "
"Merlin," Edmund said, clear understanding on his face.
Hermione nodded her head. "Yes, and in our world, we view Merlin as the greatest wizard to ever grace on Earth," she said. "He used to go to Hogwarts and he was placed in Slytherin [1]. And well, nowadays, we use his name in exclamation."
He nodded his head, an amused smile on his face. "All right," he said.
They soon started to talk about different things – the prophecy, Hermione's life in Hogwarts, the impending war… It made Hermione relieved and amused at the same time how they could suddenly talk about these things when they had ignored each other for weeks, perhaps almost a month. This did not really matter, though, because she realized that she terribly missed talking to Edmund Pevensie.
Both of them had this unspoken agreement not to talk about Edmund's feelings and her rejection. They both knew it was a sensitive topic and they were already happy of how things were between them.
As Edmund recounted some of his meetings with Peter and Caspian regarding the rebellion in Ettinsmoor, she could not help but to look at him, and just look at him, and think that now that he was talking to her, Hermione already felt at peace.
He had stopped talking when he noticed that Hermione's eyes were already drooping. "I think it is best if we both go back to our bedrooms now," he said.
Hermione nodded as a huge yawn tore away from her mouth. Edmund stared at her in amusement and she merely returned a sleepy grin.
Her grin froze, though, and soon slipped away when, from out of nowhere, Edmund placed a hand on her bruised one. "I… um…" he started, his cheeks coloring. "My feelings for you did not… fade but I know that you don't want it at all so I'm not forcing them to you anymore."
His words were rushed and almost stumbling but Hermione was still able to understand them.
"But do know that you are one of the most important persons in my life today," he said. He paused and chuckled, shaking his head. "Perhaps the most important, I honestly don't know." He lifted her hand, leaned closer and kissed her bruise. His action had sent wild butterflies in her stomach to move crazily all over. "Mark my words that I will do anything, and I mean everything to keep you safe from now on until your final battle with the White Witch. For you it might mean something else, but it doesn't matter." A sad smile appeared on his face as he caressed her injured hand. "You can view it as protection from your friend or brother."
His eyes connected with hers after his earnest declaration of devotion. Hermione's heart skipped a beat, confused of what to feel.
And then, as she stared back at him, she, without meaning to, finally understood. The cloud in her head cleared and she was finally able to grasp the truth in her feelings.
Perhaps there was a band in her heart, a band that she knew was of denial. She knew it had been installed on her once the Second War in the Wizarding World happened and the only thing she knew she must do was to slowly shut herself away from the world and love only those who deserved to in fear of having her heart broken in the end. She now understood why she refused to confess her feelings to Ron even if they were at the heat of the war. If he… died and left her, the pain would be lesser.
And then, Edmund Pevensie came along as she was brought here in Narnia by, perhaps, Lady Fate herself. And every day, this band was stretched and stretched beyond its limits. Now that she was here, in the gazebo, with Edmund Pevensie and him alone, she knew that the band had finally snapped.
She could not deny anymore.
Hermione then slowly removed her hand away from his grasp and stood up. He stared at her, dumbstruck.
And then, she kissed him. It was quick and long at the same time, like bestowed in a second but felt like it had lasted a lifetime. It was gentle and desperate; sweet and almost painful at the same time.
He did not have the chance to respond back as Hermione slowly pulled away. His face was frozen with immense shock and Hermione smiled, taking a few steps back. Wordlessly, she curtsied, forever memorizing the frozen look on his face. She then turned around and walked out of the gazebo.
A loud scraping noise resounded in the still night and the next thing Hermione knew, his hand was clasped tightly around her wrist. He forced her to turn back around, a crazed look on his face. As she observed clearly, a victorious smile was spread widely on Edmund's face.
It seemed like he had won a war.
"Explain," he simply said, although his voice was laced with desperation to understand why she had kissed him. "Dear God above, explain."
She sighed and slowly pulled her wrist away. Thankfully, Edmund allowed her. Hermione took a few steps back, her face crumpling in sheer frustration. "This was not supposed to happen," she blurted out. "I… I was supposed to focus on the great prophecy. I'm the Chosen One, goddammit! Anything frivolous, illogical and impractical was never part of the plan. I-I was happy of how things were, of how things would probably end up after the war has happened but I can't - "
Hermione paused, running a frustrated hand across her face. "I j-just, I thought I can't do it anymore. You know, denying. It's tiring, Edmund, to keep that band forever stretching without letting it break." A mix of bemusement and frustration appeared on her face as she stared back at him. "B-but now, here you are. Edmund Pevensie. The same man who thought I was going to hurt his sister and bring the downfall to the country he loves the most. T-the same man who twisted, stretched, and pulled my patience into unimaginable shapes. The same man, who, with perfect ease, single-handedly ruined my perfect plan."
She paused and licked her lips, her eyes now shining bright with unsuppressed tears. "Dear Merlin, I-I don't know what to do anymore," she whispered, a small tear sliding down from her right eye. "But Edmund Pevensie, I think I've fallen in lo - " She paused, releasing a huge puff of air from her mouth. Her whole body tensed as she looked at him, her eyes beseeching. "I think I've fallen…"
He cut her off with a chuckle, much to her mortification.
"Are you laughing at me?" she cried in accusation.
"No, no," he said, catching both of her hands and squeezed them tight. "I… understand." He held her gaze firmly. "I believe you."
Her eyes lit up, hopeful. "You do?" she asked, her voice so soft and vulnerable.
He lifted his hand and tucked a stray strand behind her ear. "Yes," he whispered, grinning down at her. "Because you're stammering."
Edmund did not let her react to his statement. With one mighty pull, Hermione had crashed into his arms. Without any doubts, without any insecurities, without any worries in the whole fucking universe, Edmund Pevensie kissed Hermione Granger.
With every nip and caress, a promise was made. With every touch of hand and squeeze of arm, trust was strengthened. With every sound they made and gasp they released, desire was formed.
He kissed her, deeply, earnestly, desperately to let her know that he would forever keep her safe from harm.
She kissed him, deeply, earnestly, desperately to let him know that she was entrusting her whole self to him, and only him.
And as Edmund slowly pulled away, his chest heaving with lack of oxygen, he realized that Hermione had started to cry. Her eyes were still closed, still relishing the kiss that they had shared. Gingerly, the king placed his thumb against her cheek and brushed her tears away.
Hermione slowly opened her eyes, afraid that the spell of the moment would be broken. Her eyes stared into his, desperate to find something she wished to see in his eyes the most.
It was there.
Her sobs of relief, of happiness, of every imaginable happy feeling she could think of, tore into the night. Edmund pulled her close, his arm around her waist tight and protective.
The grin on his face spoke volumes. He then leaned once again, this time placing a lingering kiss on her forehead. "Hermione Granger," he whispered, now leaning his forehead against hers. "Me too. I think I've fallen…" He paused, hesitant. He brushed his nose against hers and grinned wider. "I think… me too."
[1] According to JK, Merlin attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and was placed in Slytherin. So, dear readers, I am not making that up :D. It is quite weird, though, because based on research, Hogwarts was established during the 9th-10th century. Merlin was alive during the 5th century and disregarding the BBC version, Merlin was already like an old man or something. EH, if Queen Rowling says so.
A/N: So, was it good? Bad? Eh? Meh? Tell me in your reviews!
Okay, first and foremost, I just want to remind all of you once again that I am a complete noob when it comes to swordsmanship thingies. I did research, all right, but I'm pretty sure that they were a little... you know, erroneous I think. Heh, I'm the author so do give me the luxury of doing that (I hope no one bashes me for saying that *crosses fingers*).
Anyway, I hope the last part was worth the wait. I did try my best, you know, and I wish that I made you all happy. Wee, love is in the air! Next chapter will be pure Edmund/Hermione scenes, I swear. It will probably make up with all those sexual tension that had been going on between the two (well, I think).
So, that's it for now. Once again, I'll update on Monday.
With love,
WickedlyAwesomeMe