Disclaimer: The usual.

Thank you to my beta who worked hard to edit this large document lol

WARNING: blood and gore

"Hermione! Get up out of bed, girl!"

Dull, throbbing, dizzying pain. At first Hermione couldn't quite pinpoint the source, was it her head? No, it was her hand, and her head. Specifically, it was the back of her left hand and the space between her eyes.

"Uhhhhrrrr…" She groaned unintelligibly. Those who were not morning people tended to awaken with cobwebs in their head. Hermione was definitely a morning person and usually she got up feeling refreshed and ready to take on the day. That particular morning there were no cobwebs in her head, just a thickness that hurt, as if there was too much fluid in her fragile skull, sloshing about angrily with every move she made. Using her right hand to steady herself, she sat up in her bed. It took her a moment to blink her eyes clear of the crust, moistening them enough to clear the blindness that came from sleeping far too little. Normally awake with a sharp mind and quick step, that morning her mind was like a pencil worn to a stub, her movements sluggish and her face drawn.

Thankfully, her brain dead awakening helped to soften the blow of the previous night. A small rush of adrenaline hit her, she had come into contact with Them and survived! The tribal members were the only people to ever come into contact with the forest beings and live to tell of it. Granted, she only recalled seeing something silver before… before…

Hermione turned crimson, glancing over at the pile of soiled clothes in the corner of the room. The powers of the forest beings were… odd. Why were They so sexual? For the second time, Hermione felt Their powers and both times she ended up… ruining her undergarments. Feeling flustered, she quickly looked away from the clothes, her gaze catching the textbook on the floor next to her bed: "Potions for the Amateur." Potions was highly advanced magic and great restrictions were placed on it. Few students were allowed to read the limited number of texts on the subject and the books were to be treated with great care. Even with her excellent abilities in school and widespread knowledge of her intellect, the community needed the tribal members to determine whether Hermione Granger, only girl to ever stand a chance to enter that field of magic, deserved to read those books. It took them five months before they finally gave her permission, and now one corner of it was specked with her blood.

Tears watered in her eyes, suddenly frustrated with herself. She looked over at her hand and had to swallow a cry of shock. It was deeply red, swollen and covered in the nasty brownish color of dried blood. Hermione turned pale; what if it got infected and they had to cut it off? Magic had its limits. But no, surely it looked worse than it was; it wasn't as if she had broken her hand.

She tried to make a fist, which turned out to be quite the mistake. Her eyes bulged out of her head and she let out an unholy squeak through her nose the instant her hand twitched. A flare of hot pain shot through her hand, momentarily displacing the agony in her head.

"Oh God… Ohhhhhh…." Hermione doubled over, acid rose in her already dry rancid mouth, tasting of last night's vomit. The sharp stabbing pain in her hand subsided, increasing the pain in her head tenfold.

"Hermione!"

Her mother's loud voice from the doorway made her flinch pitifully. Hermione looked up at her with bloodshot eyes, trying desperately to come up with a plausible reason for why her hand was smashed in. It would have been easier had that terrible pounding in her skull stopped.

"Errrr… hi mum…" She mumbled lamely.

"What in Heaven's name happened to you?" Her mother's dark brown eyes landed on the hand Hermione was clutching. "Is that blood?!" In an instant, her mother stood before her, trying to check her wounds and face. She paled for a moment and stepped back. "What's that smell?"

Hermione blushed a little, helping to soften her pale pallor.

"I… I vomited in my chamber pot…"

"Good Lord! What is wrong with you? What did you do? Are you ill?"

Even the smartest witch in the world would have had difficulty thinking up plausible excuses as her mother harassed her and her body tortured her.

"I fell asleep reading my textbook… I… umm… I had a nightmare. About insects. I tried to smash one in my sleep and errrr… ended up crushing my hand. Then I heaved into my chamber pot." She finished lamely, hoping her expression was innocent enough.

Her mother looked at her oddly, as if she had lost her mind.

"Very well… we shall have to take you to the Mediwitch. You need to be more careful! You know your father and I cannot help you during night time." She frowned with worry.

*****

"Alright dearie, your hand should be fine. The cleansing potion will take care of possible infection… fortunately nothing is broken, but it'll take you about a week to recover nicely." Poppy Pomfrey gave Hermione a terse smile.

"She said she had some sort of nightmare, made her smash her hand in… is there something… up in her head?"

"Mother! I've not lost my mind." Hermione replied hotly.

"Now, there is no need to speak to your mother in such a tone! My goodness, you are quite certain of yourself aren't you?" Satisfied with the girl's shamed expression, Pomfrey continued, "moreover I do agree with your mother. Perhaps you shouldn't be spending so much time buried in books! Girls should be out productively helping their mothers. One day you shall need a husband, and what use will your bookishness be then? You going to read to him are you?"

Hermione clenched her jaw, seething, but she couldn't do a thing. Her mother nodded sagely, the wise elderly reminiscing on the folly of youth. It made her want the chamber pot again, except she hadn't eaten yet. It didn't help that the medical ward was so tiny, it made her claustrophobic. She was sitting on a creaky table, ignoring the other two women as Pomfrey set to bandaging her throbbing hand. There was a potion that could erase the pain but that was conserved for more severe traumas. Hermione had to deal with the constant reminder of her hand, its painful pulse took her back to the previous night. Shame coursed through her when a steadily growing ache settled between her legs. Lately it had become a familiar sensation, never failing to humiliate her.

"All done. Be sure not to overuse it, but flex your fingers a bit throughout the day. Don't want it going all stiff now do we?" The two women looked at Hermione in concern, "Take my advice girly: less books. A young girl has her cuteness only for a little while. How long do you think that Weasley boy will wait?" Pomfrey raised an eyebrow knowingly, unaware that Hermione's heart had fallen through her shoes.

"Thank you for your help Poppy…"

Hermione got up from the table and left the room, certain that her mother would have a fit with her behaviour. Once outside the little hut she took a breath of chilly fresh air. Winter would be coming soon; the forest would change its colors and let the leaves fall. The long, branches struck her as cruel and vicious, the wind creating the illusion that the branches were lashing out at the grey heavens derisively. She could see the outline of the trees just over the houses in the town.

"Hermione!"

She blinked and turned to her mother.

"What is wrong with you child? You couldn't have embarrassed me further? Perhaps you should have laughed in the woman's face? Insulted her outright?! She just fixed your hand and you didn't thank her or say good bye to her?"

"Ehh… I apologize. My hand hurts… I didn't sleep well…"

Her mother took in the faraway look, the tired eyes and slouched demeanour, finally taking pity on her only child. "Alright… I need to go to the market; we're out of eggs and bread. You go straight home and get some rest."

"Of course mother." Hermione murmured softly, watching as her mother took off toward the town's center. Perhaps sleep would be good for me, thought Hermione; I can't process everything that has happened when I'm so exhausted.

She proceeded to the outskirts of the town, trying to get home without catching anyone's attention. Her hand continued to ache and her whole disposition was sour. She figured that taking a long bath would help her feel like herself again and allow her to think more clearly, see things from a different perspective. Until then, she pushed her muddled thoughts into the back of her head.

*****

She lay in the tub trying to relax. The room was dark, only a small window lighting the area which was situated high up the wall so no one could peek through when the walked by. She positioned herself in the tub so she could face the window, taking comfort in the dim light barely keeping the darkness at bay. She sunk deeper into the water. Most humans would have been stuck boiling water before they could enjoy a nice bath. However, the runes carved into the floor under the tub were a heating charm, so all Hermione had to do was create a small incision into her right hand and chant another drawn out incantation to activate it. Briefly, Hermione wondered why some spells needed more blood than others, even if they were simpler spells. It irritated her to have to cause more abuse to her body just to take a bath. Her injured hand was carefully hanging over the edge of the tub so as not to get it wet.

Hermione tried not to look at herself nude when she got into the water. It just seemed… wrong to look at yourself naked. The wizarding world was not Christian, but it was damn well affected by the religion. Everyone was. The beings in the forest terrified her more so after actually being exposed to Them. These beings had the ability to make you feel all the bad things you were not supposed to feel. The wizarding world continued to be more open minded than the human world, especially about sex. Hermione's mother told her all about the activity. Sex wasn't meant to be an event enjoyed by people, least of all women. It was to create children. Rhythmic movements meant to generate a desired result, much like putting together furniture. Only sex sounded messier to Hermione. So unsightly, although a part of her, especially when she woke from a very explicit dream, wanted to engage in it. A deeper part of her seemed to think it would actually feel good. She would end up alert, wet, and feel that delicious ache between her legs. It appalled her.

Few things in the world gave Hermione pleasure, but a rule of the universe dictated that when you've suffered greatly, even the smallest reprieve brings the greatest of pleasures. A stomach full of food and water, a body being caressed by the warm pool it was immersed in, and peaceful quiet. Suddenly there was no greater heaven than the tub she relaxed in. Naturally her mind began to wander.

The beings had some sexual power. This was undeniable, though Hermione would rather kiss Malfoy's arse than admit she felt anything. How does one defeat sexual power? Smashing in your hand seemed to do the trick, although Hermione couldn't see the usefulness in such a tactic. A mental image of the people of Diagon hitting themselves repeatedly while trying to run through the forest almost made her laugh. The villagers would be half beaten to death before the beings came into contact with them. She supposed that they could try and come up with a potion that causes a certain level of pain… or perhaps a fluctuating level of pain? Was it more necessary to distract oneself with dull pain or sharp surprising pain? Hermione wasn't exactly in the frame of mind to experiment the night before.

She groaned in annoyance. It was utterly ridiculous for a girl like her to try and come up with a solution that would save the village. Besides that, no one would take her seriously, even if she could make herself admit that she had come into contact with Them and survived. A flicker of fear entered her thoughts: what if the villagers turn against me, suspect me, because I survived? What would the people do to her then? Yet, Hermione couldn't help herself, she was a problem solver. She was also bored out of her mind in Diagon and felt her potential talents die a little each day.

The likely future of most women in Diagon was just within reach, and Hermione was terrified. She would get married to Ron, have several children, and die having spent the majority of her life cleaning up after her family. She would teach her children to fear for their lives as all the villagers feared, so that they too could grow up, marry, breed, and die as all those before them. Hermione often wondered if perhaps hell itself is not filled with fire and pain but pure monotony. The repetition and tediousness of life was slowly going to drive her mad. But did she have the courage to investigate the forest herself, to break the rules, risking her life and her family's reputation?

Her internal struggle was torturing her. On the one hand her whole life consisted of fear mongering and female oppression, on the other, an untapped independence and determination was struggling to keep from disappearing altogether. Fingers gripped the edges of the tub hard as she tried to control her breathing and ignore the tightness in her chest, unaware she was having a panic attack. She knew there was no way she could turn her back on what happened the night before and live with herself. For the first time in her life she felt something. A never ending undercurrent of fear and depression made her numb and lazy. But last night she felt extreme emotions; total terror and absolute pleasure. The two somehow mingled and made the experience that much more tantalizing. She shivered at the recollection.

She finally decided what she was going to do. Hermione Granger was going to break into Severus Snape's home. There had to be information about Them in his home; the man had direct contact with Them and lived to tell the tale. There had been a series of book burnings in Diagon, apparently those texts had some serious magic in them that could expose the village to the forest beings. However, Snape had texts that the tribal members had no choice but to save. If she could find a way to break in and grab those texts…

She got up from the tub and managed to dry herself off, while keeping her bandage dry. Hermione put on her stockings and long skirt. Remembering the chilly morning, she put on a sweater before finally donning her black robes. She wrote her mother a quick note: she'd be back after getting a book from school.

*****

Hermione walked briskly through the town center. She had no delusions of grandeur, there was no way she could infiltrate Snape's house that very day. Her only hope was that by visiting the place she might have some idea about what kind of curse was placed on the house, and then it would be a matter of researching possible spells to break the spells. If all else failed… she would have to break into a tribal member's home and steal information. She swallowed hard at the very thought. That plan would only go into effect if there was no other possibility.

"Hermione? Hey Hermy!"

She tripped over her feet, before she noticed who was calling her.

"Hello Ronald." She forced a smile and tried not to cringe at the nickname he gave her.

Her beau waltzed out of Bubbling Trouble with his older brother Bill and Harry Potter. Ron's bright red hair and height made him stand out sharply against the dark brown building. In contrast, Harry's only striking feature was his deep green eyes. Hermione couldn't help but become self conscious of her own bedraggled appearance when she noticed Bill. He was tall, muscled, and absolutely gorgeous. Ron's older brother was quite the ladies man. Even Hermione was not completely immune to his charms, not that Bill would ever do such a thing to his brother. She suspected that Bill slept with many of the wives in Diagon, though she shuddered to think he would do something so scandalous.

They each seemed a little drunk, their eyes glazed and movements a little erratic. Her father had told her that in the old days of her great grandparents, before the war, pubs were open at night and those were the only times a man could properly get drunk with his friends. It was of course, impossible to keep a pub open at night in Diagon, so people drank in the late afternoon. The general rule was: "if you're gonna get sauced, make sure you're sauced with friends." Before Hermione's time, a man got drunk and wandered off into the forest, never to return.

"Hermione, love! Aww Hermy! Why don't you come with me and the lads eh? We're going to the pub… whassit called?" Ron turned to Bill, a big grin on his face.

"Now now, Ronnie… Can't have your girl going round pubs. S'not right. You need to… to… to take her on a picnic or summat." Bill blinked confusedly. The deeper recesses of his mind understood that it would be wrong to make Hermione enter a bar with the boys, it just wasn't right. Thankfully he was just sober enough to hold onto that thinning tether to rational thought.

"Ahhh yea, can't be doing that to Humani…"

Hermione made a slight noise at the way Ron completely mutilated her name.

"Why are you boys so…" she couldn't very well say drunk because it wasn't proper manners. "Why are you boys going to a pub this early? It's midday." That was almost tactful enough, but they were already drunk, subtlety was not necessary.

"It's… it's Dean's birthday…" mumbled Harry, the most sober of the group. "We came here but there's a special thing going on round McCale's Pub…."

"Yea… nekkid things…" Ron stated proudly, before promptly turning red and trying to cover up for his mistake. "Ahh no… not what I meant… see…" Hermione felt her stomach knot. She wasn't sure if it was jealousy that her beau was going to see other women or disgust that the women were naked. It was improper and frowned upon by the community, though the girls who did such things managed to keep their anonymity by wearing masks, and no one outright complained. They considered it important that the men of Diagon have their needs fulfilled, after all, they were the future that would defeat Them. Yet it continued to upset Hermione.

"What Ron meant is that, that-..." Bill paused to gather his bearings. "There'll be fun stuff going on, gotta wish the birfday boy good luck and all. Just havin' some clean fun." He smiled charmingly at the brunette, with an air of promise, slightly mollifying her feelings.

"Umm alright, you enjoy yourselves…" not too much, she thought to herself. They laughed, Ron gave her a really wet kiss on the cheek, then they wondered off to the pub.

Putting away her feelings, she finally arrived at the home of Severus Snape. The house looked as imposing as the former tenant had been. It was tall, dark, and falling apart. The building was made of dark Alder wood, had a gothic design, and was covered in ivy after years without maintenance. Despite its messy appearance, she felt as if the house was gazing at her with austere contempt. She closed her mouth, mindless of it having been open the entire time. The house was foreboding; why would there be any need to cast magical barriers? Because people like you are too nosy to be deterred by appearance alone, even threat of mutilation didn't keep you from peeking behind the curtain now did it? argued an annoying voice in Hermione's head.

She checked to make sure no one was watching her. People rarely came around that area, believing that Snape's house was possessed by some innate evil. The house was surrounded by trees and bushes, further unnerving the villagers because it felt like They had come to protect the house deep within the town, creating a small forest around it. Hermione walked over to the front door, unable to decide how to proceed. She jumped at a snapping noise only to realize it was a black cat. It suddenly occurred to her how she could test the boundaries of the house, though her stomach lurched at the thought.

"Here kitty… come here sweetie…"

Its golden eyes regarded her with curiosity. Hermione kneeled down, extending her arms and trying to make noises she thought were soothing and inviting. The young cat padded over to her, far too trusting. Hermione picked up its soft furry body and eyed the door. She was an animal lover, it pained her that she was considering using the cat to test dangerous magic, but she had no choice.

"What are you doing?" Hermione froze just before she hurled the cat at the door. Upon turning to see who spoke, she dropped the cat.

To her complete shock, the little black cat strutted over to Aberforth Dumbledore. The man was an infamous recluse. He was the only person outside of the tribal members to live for such an extended period of time without seeming to age. Everyone believed that somehow, his brother and hero of the village, Albus, had left him some power. But the man refused to speak to anyone, pointedly ignoring the tribal members. People resented him, a man with unknown power and a connection to one of the greatest wizards in their time, but he refused to help anyone. There were some whispers, rumours that he had ties with Them, but no one dared speak of it, not even the tribal members. The people also believed he had, in a fit of insanity, carved runes into his skin so he could more easily spell cast – very dangerous magic since records showed that those who tried tended to either explode or implode, neither reaction was pleasant.

"Umm… I was just, just looking at the door." Hermione stuttered.

"Using the cat to improve your vision are you? Rub it on your face? Quite interesting, you'll have to give me details of this new form of spell casting, I am most curious. Or wait, were you perhaps hoping that the cat could break down the door for you?" His bright blue eyes were tearing into her, they were so sharp and cold, and his sarcasm bit into her deeply.

"I… I…." She looked away, scared and ashamed of what she had been about to do.

"What are you trying to do girl? Some stupid dare? You know the last bloke who tried to break in died of skin burns?"

She had been thirteen years old when her parents gave her a talk about knowing when friends wanted her to do stupid things. Not that she had many friends to pressure her into stupidity. They were quite stricken over the event, that someone would be so stupid as to test the tribal members' spells.

"I just… I wanted to…" for some reason a part of her felt she could trust him, almost as if his weirdness made it easier for herself to talk about her own odd experiences and obsession. If she told him and he told others, it would be unlikely that they would believe him. But it was just so hard to open up when you've been closed for a lifetime.

He watched her struggle for a moment, as if understanding what was going through her head.

"Enough. You will go home now girl. Don't let me see you near this place again." He paused for a moment, still observing her, before he added "and tomorrow, you shall meet me for tea. Alone." At that, he turned around and left.

Hermione watched him leave with a shocked expression. He never invites people for tea. He doesn't invite anyone for anything. She wasn't even sure there was a person in the village who knew what his home looked like from inside.

She walked home in a daze, wondering whether she was going to get into trouble for trying to enter Snape's house or for nearly killing a cat. Her effort to enter Snape's house was pointless and now she had to meet with the only man more intimidating than the tribal members. There was no way she was even going to consider declining him.

I'm going to meet Aberforth Dumbledore for tea... Oh God…

*****

"Nah nah, boys… you go'n ahead… I gotta see Emily…"

"Noooo we can't do tha'! Gotta be togedder.. together… together?" Ron blinked confusedly. He had consumed more firewhiskey than he thought he would. But it was hard to keep yourself in control when beautiful breasts were shaking round your head. He grinned broadly at the memory. Of course he was faithful to Hermione; he didn't touch any of them, though he wanted to.

"You gonna stay with Emily tonight?" Harry grinned, his eyes glazed.

"Me? Never!" Bill made smiled hoping he looked innocent enough. It was fairly easy to sneak into a girl's window and spend the night with her. The spells at the doorways helped silence all noise and prevent people from entering bedroom's uninvited. Fathers were afraid to leave their rooms at night, silencing spells smothering all sounds, while daughters were locked up with Bill. He could spend the whole night with a girl without any interruption. The only difficulty was entering and exiting before the spells were in effect. He wasn't the only lad to do this activity, but he was the sneakiest, no one had caught him yet. Last thing he wanted was to miss out on his chance with Emily; she had just given him permission to visit her. Granted, he hadn't planned on getting that drunk before seeing her, but he figured she would still melt under his smile and let him into her window.

"Come on lads…" Bill hiccupped, "Go on without ole Bill, gotta go see summat." He grinned.

His brother and Harry burst into laughter, but they backed off, Harry tripping on himself as they started their way home. Bill smiled at the sight of them before he began his trail to Emily's home. Her place was outside of the town center, much closer to the forest; he had been to her home only a handful of times. Her father, the bugger, hated Bill. In one of the few moments of his life where Bill had a legitimate thought that waded into deeper waters of intellect, he wondered why fathers were so hateful of him when all he did was what all men taught their boys to do, and had hoped to do themselves when they were boys. They had no right acting surprised and offended that other boys would try such things with their own daughters.

"Lotta bastards you all are…" he mumbled to the darkening sky, heedless of all the people scurrying to their homes. The redhead wandered through the town and it took him several attempts and detours before he finally left the town's center and ambled over to the edges of the forest. He finally made it, facing the forest, when he realized he had no idea where he was.

"Ah well… gotta circle eh?" He grinned to himself, since the town was circular it would be simple enough to pick a direction and go round until he got to Emily's home.

"Mmm… be-u-ful legs she's got…" he daydreamed about her naked as he lazily traveled. "Ack!" He cried out as his feet tripped over a log. Promptly falling on his face killed his little daydream instantly. Groaning, he got up from the ground and found himself looking at the woods. The trees were much darker than he was used to.

"Damn firewhiskey… evil stuff, you know?" He looked at the trees with more interest. "You know… you lot… you lot are bad you know? Whatchu doing things like you do eh?" He waved a finger in drunken disapproval.

"All we do is what we do! You can't be doing stuff like tha'! People all… chopped up and whatnot. S'not fun…. Well ok might be fun for you eh? But… but there's other fun stuff you know… Like… Like… chocolate! Tha's fun!" He blinked at the trees, trying to see them better. "Oi… who turned off the light eh?"

Suddenly the trees were illuminated with a silver glow.

"Ooooooo" He whispered with a child like wonder. The trees were so pretty! "Where- where'd the shiny come from?" Bill turned around and gazed up at the sky. There was a strange bright thing in the sky, not quite a circle, a bit of it was missing. He stared at it with his mouth wide, a thin stream of drool going down his jaw as he gazed in awe. He stuck his hand up, trying to touch it.

"Shiny…"

Yes…

Bill froze. Everything felt… strange. He moaned loudly as he felt himself harden. What was happening? Oh God it felt good.

A strong hand gripped his right shoulder from behind. Another wave of pleasure struck him, he cried out, pre-cum quickly seeping out of his sex at a mere touch. In the back of his mind, a thought tried to warn him: the forest is behind you. But the thought dissolved in a sea of sex and alcohol.

The fingers lightly tickled him along his collarbone, grazing sharp nails (claws) up his throat… faintly tracing his jugular vein. He was openly whimpering now, his hips rocking in the air.

"Oh G… Oh… So good… Ah…" His sex pounded, tightening as he neared climax. Soft feminine laughter permeated the air behind him.

"Ah… Ah!...." He stiffened, amazed he could come while drunk and on his feet. His trousers were sticky with his juices but his sex grew hard once more, in an instant, the laughter was driving him mad with want. He wanted to turn around, he wanted to see what was touching him… He wanted whatever They would give him…

Them? Oh… That's bad. Right?

No… it feels good... His hips bucked as a sharp flare of lust flowed through his veins. His heartbeat sped up and two hands rested on his cheeks, caressing his face before clasping over his eyes. Emily would have been nothing like this.

He was vaguely aware that another pair of hands tore apart his robe and shirt with ease. Those hands lazily touched his abdomen; he could feel a presence in front of him. Goosebumps spread over his skin and he shivered feeling as if he was on display for a crowd but it excited him. He moaned over and over, hips bucking, but he couldn't come a second time. It was almost as if this vile magic was keeping him on edge, refusing to let go. The laughter was louder and words were being spoken, but he didn't understand the language.

Someone said something and the presence in front of him seemed to leave. The hands over his eyes left him; he was still staring at an empty, dark village on the verge of a second orgasm when he felt a warm body press up against his back. He cried out, his body convulsing with an orgasm that refused to arrive. Sweat poured down his back and his sex hurt with the need for release. Strong hands rested on his stomach making him whimper pathetically, sooooo good.

"Wha?" His eyes bulged out of his head and he keeled over. His organ spurted once more but something was off, he hadnt registered any pleasure, only numbness of shock. He stared uncomprehendingly at the sight before him. A metallic, sickening smell engulfed him as he stared at the meaty mass before him. The hands were gone and he couldn't hear laughter but for the loud humming in his ears. His blood pounded in his head as his brain tried to decipher the information provided by his senses. Horror was kept at bay only because of shock. He looked down at his stomach only to see a large gaping wound, shreds of skin dangling at his waist. Blood poured freely from his gouged abdomen.

Bill Weasley fell to his knees, pure terror in his eyes as he fell forward, onto the pulsing warm wet mass that used to be his organs.

His eyes glazed over but he managed to lay his eyes on one delicate, beautifully pale ankle. One coherent thought quickly flitted through his overwhelmed, dying brain as it tried to desperately hold onto life.

They were laughing at me.

A/N: New laptop doesnt have MS word or Office Word ugh. So I cant open the files I had saved from my old one. Hopefully should have something soon though. I had to edit this on notepad and I lost all the italics, had to redo them lmao

Now to address some questions. Hopefully by now you've seen that this wont have "the Village" twist to it lol They arnt going to leave the forest and enter the land of automobiles and modern life. There are most definately other creatures in the forest, but I can safely say there is only one breed of magical creature in the forest, there are other normal animals in there lol

As for whether or not you can trust the Fleur in this story... please keep in mind that this is a suspence story lol This isnt just a romance fanfic, whether you can trust Fleur is integral to the plot. Im glad to answer questions but I feel so guilty when you ask a plot centered question and I have to decline... it would just kill the story.

And Brii, they wouldnt hear her screaming, recall that the runes on the doorways and windows cut off the person's ability hear what happens in the room (so clearly there is a level of power in the sounds these beings create - Im sure most of you have figured out what these beings are lol).

Btw it also occured to me that I forgot to fix something way back. The spells on the doors are as such: a person can leave their bedroom at any time, however they are incapable of entering any other room in the house (this is because of the Longbottom deaths). It is possible for people to allow the creatures into the room with the occupants permission (like vampires I guess lol)

Fleur will show up sometime soon, but Im cant rush it, they just arnt supposed to meet anytime soon. When she does pop up, you'll realise why (if you havent already lol)

Thank you for all the wonderful reviews and so many alerts/faves! I hope this meets expectations!