Candied Tongue
"Beware the candied tongue that laps at royal boots, and through its sugary slime conceals the black heart."
Bellatrix felt like she had waited weeks for the day of the Lestranges' Christmas party to arrive; in reality, it had only been a few days. She awoke earlier than usual on that day to help Alcyone Lestrange with last-minute preparations for the party. Druella Black had requested that her eldest daughter learn the finer points of being a hostess. Bellatrix had reluctantly agreed, promising herself that when she was older she would leave the parties to Narcissa.
The two women were in the larger dining room, overseeing house elves and pondering such fascinating topics as table arrangements and centerpieces. Bellatrix stifled a yawn with the back of her hand and considered pleading a headache, but a sharp look from Alcyone brought her back to attention.
"You may not realize it," Alcyone continued, "but the specific flowers that you choose will have great bearing on the atmosphere of your party. For example, a spring party may have a pastel colour palette, but you must absolutely never have yellow flowers. Yellow most often connotes negative emotions: disdain, jealousy, rejection. Now, these poinsettias—"
She was interrupted by a loud creaking noise behind them. They both turned quickly as the huge oak door swung open to reveal Rodolphus, looking slightly intimidated. He started to speak, but Alcyone held up a hand to stop him. She snapped her fingers at a nearby house elf and hissed, "Why hasn't that door been cleaned? It's still creaking. Fix it!" She cleared her throat. "What is it, Rodolphus?"
He looked quickly at Bellatrix and said, "Mother, Father's home. He wants to see Bellatrix and me."
Alcyone looked at the grandfather clock in the corner and bit her lip. "All right, Bellatrix," she sighed. "You'd best not keep him waiting."
Bellatrix fought the urge to skip to the door in relief. She had been freed from captivity; more importantly, she and Rodolphus were going to speak to Arrakis Lestrange, an experienced Death Eater. This was her chance to prove herself to someone more important than Rabastan or Antonin.
She exited the dining room as Rodolphus slipped his hand into hers. "Come on," he said quickly. "Father doesn't like to be kept waiting."
They crossed the front hall and went up the first flight of stairs, stopping at an ornate door. The antique gold knob was in the shape of a snake's head that reared up, ready to strike. Rodolphus reached for the snake and twisted it to the side, pushing the door open.
At the far end of the room stood an intricately carved desk, littered with books and heirlooms. One huge candle sat in its holder on the corner of the desk, dripping thick globs of wax that magically vanished just before they hit the desk. In a tall, dark green armchair behind the desk sat a man with sharp, hawk-like features and dark eyes that seemed bottomless. His long hair hung past his shoulder in neat waves, betraying his age with grey streaks like his wife's. He was leaning his chin against one tired, veined hand; the other hand held a quill that was scratching restlessly across the parchment before him.
"Father," Rodolphus began in a low, respectful tone, "you wanted to see Bellatrix and me?"
Arrakis Lestrange, though he had asked for their prompt arrival, was in no hurry to speak with them. He finished the sentence he was writing, rubbed his chin thoughtfully, and placed the quill neatly into its silver inkpot before looking up.
"Rodolphus, Bellatrix," he intoned deeply, his voice resonating like a priest's. The two stepped forward, and Bellatrix noticed that, unlike his elder son, Arrakis bore no visible scars of battle.
"Tonight," he continued, steepling his fingers, "may well be the most important night of your lives." He sat forward in his chair and rested his elbows on the desk. "You may think you know the implications of the world which you are about to enter, but you do not. You cannot."
Bellatrix resisted the urge to shiver with delight and bit her lip.
"You stand on the greatest threshold the world has ever seen. You are poised on the edge of greatness, the shared greatness of the Dark Lord. And he is great. He has power that you cannot imagine." For the first time since she had entered the room, Bellatrix found her eyes locked with Arrakis'. "You can forget any idea of measuring up to him," he added coldly.
Rodolphus nodded and looked at his shoes, but Bellatrix found her voice. "Sir," she said, taking a deep breath in, "what's going to happen to us tonight?"
He replied instantly, "The rest of your lives." Seeing her brow furrow, he laughed hollowly and said, "If you expect to gain information so easily, get used to disappointment."
Bellatrix quirked an eyebrow and cheekily said, "Sir, you haven't spoken to Antonin Dolohov recently, have you?"
Rodolphus' eyes widened, and he reached over and surreptitiously kicked the back of her leg. She whipped her head around, nostrils flared like a wild horse, and glared openly at him. He ignored her and quickly said, "Father, she doesn't mean—"
Arrakis held up a hand and fixed his cold black eyes on his son. "Let her speak." He gestured at Bellatrix for her to continue.
She straightened her shoulders and said, "I wanted to know what our—my—initiation would be like, and Antonin refused to tell me. At first." She smiled. "I managed to convince him."
Arrakis smirked, revealing fine lines around his eyes. "Beware your pride, Miss Black." He glanced at Rodolphus. "And you, son, beware her fury. I advise you to stay on her side."
Bellatrix pursed her lips, unable to discern if her future father-in-law was mocking her or complimenting her. She assumed the latter and declared, "Mr. Lestrange, I think we deserve to know what we're going to go through tonight."
He tilted his head and nodded once. "I can tell you only so much. It is not my place to reveal the Dark Lord's plans to those who are unworthy. No, do not argue," he interrupted himself, seeing Bellatrix beginning to protest, "because only the Dark Lord can label you worthy of joining his ranks. However, he does wish me to prepare you to a certain extent." Arrakis toyed absentmindedly with a silver paperweight on his desk. The sleeve of his elegant blue dress robes slipped, revealing just the edge of his faded Dark Mark. He looked first at his son, seeming to revel in his anxious face, and then shifted his gaze to Bellatrix. She stared straight back, her black eyes daring his to find her unworthy.
"I'm sure you've heard hints about the process of earning the coveted position of Death Eater. They are not the Dark Lord's only followers; only the most faithful are deemed worthy of this designation. You, with your skills, devotion, and, yes, family connections,"—at which Bellatrix suppressed a satisfied smirk—"have been granted the opportunity to join our hallowed ranks. You will be tested and examined, and the process will not be easy. I have seen those who presume to impress the Dark Lord and fail to do so." His eyes darkened. "Their fate is not a pleasant one."
Bellatrix shivered in anticipation, thinking of the Dark Lord's immense power. Rodolphus mistook her shudder for one of fear, and placed a subtle but comforting hand on her knee. She decided to leave it be.
"Your initiation," Mr. Lestrange continued, "will begin with a series of questions asked by the Dark Lord in front of all present. These questions will test your resolve and your loyalty. DO not take them lightly."
The two teenagers nodded vigourously.
"You will then be tested in private. Only you and the Dark Lord will be privy to the details of this meeting." Arrakis brushed a lock of grey hair out of his eyes and looked cryptically off into the distance above their heads. Bellatrix couldn't help but wonder what Mr. Lestrange's initiation had been like. What had the Dark Lord done to him? She remembered Antonin's words, about how a Death Eater's initiation was based on the Dark Lord's intended use for him or her. What special potential had he seen in Arrakis Lestrange, or in Rabastan? This idea quickly shifted into a more exciting prospect—what potential might he see in her? Bellatrix' right arm itched along the old scars she had once shown to Lucius Malfoy; the sensation caused a wonderful thought to bloom in her mind. Was it possible—could she dare to dream it?—that the Dark Lord would want her to be trained in the three Unforgivable Curses?
Bellatrix' reverie was broken by Arrakis' deep, bell-like voice continuing, "If, by this point, your performance has satisfied the Dark Lord, you will be… inducted, so to speak." Seeing their expectant faces, he added, "I'm afraid that's all I can tell you."
Truthfully, Bellatrix had expected much less information—though, now that she thought about it, none of what her future father-in-law had told them really made them any more prepared than the next Death Eater hopeful. She exchanged a dark-eyed glance with Rodolphus, who nodded gratefully at his father.
"Thank you," Rodolphus said, reaching a hand across the cluttered desk. Arrakis grasped it and gave a firm handshake, dipping his head towards Bellatrix. He pulled a pocket watch with a fine gold chain out of his robes, glanced at it, and picked up his quill. "I will see you two later tonight, I expect. You should ready yourselves for the party," he said. "I've got some work to finish." He waved them towards the door with another cryptic half-smile. "Best of luck to you both…. You've got a long night ahead of you."
Rodolphus held the door open for Bellatrix, who swept by with practiced elegance, and closed it softly behind her. He looked at her, and she smirked and reached for the front of his robes.
"It's finally going to happen," she whispered, running her other hand along his muscled arm.
"Bellatrix," he said in half-hearted protest, but she ignored him and pulled him down towards her. Their lips met and his hand, out of habit, slid around her waist as he pressed her back against the wall. She let out a soft groan and ran her fingers through his dark curls.
An amused cough shattered the almost-silence. The couple broke apart and whipped around to see Rabastan at the bottom of the stairs, leaning against the wall and chuckling softly to himself. A smirk twisted across his face as he crossed his arms over his chest. "I hope I didn't interrupt anything," he said, raising his eyebrows.
"Shut up, Rabastan," Rodolphus said angrily, his face glowing crimson with embarrassment. Bellatrix, however, was uncharacteristically calm.
"Let him be," she said coolly, but there was a malevolent glint in her black eyes. "He's only upset because he's about to be shown up in the one thing he's held over us."
Rodolphus looked confused. Bellatrix laughed coldly and pecked him on the cheek, her eyes on his brother. She moved up the stairs, brushing her hand lightly over Rabastan's shoulder, and stopped a few steps above him. "After all," she continued, looking down at Rabastan but speaking to Rodolphus, "after tonight, he won't be the family's only proud Death Eater son."
Rabastan's brow furrowed, and he took another step down. "And you think that matters to me?"
She smiled. "Of course," she continued sweetly, "it'll be even more shaming for you when you let a woman prove she's worth more than you."
Rodolphus was still uncomfortable. "Bellatrix," he said pleadingly, "can you just drop it?"
She sent him a fiery glare, her hands suddenly clenching themselves into fists. He looked down at his shoes. "I'll… just be getting ready, then," he said quietly, gritting his teeth. He pushed past them and up the stairs, careful not to touch Bellatrix as he passed.
She watched him go with an amused smile. She looked down at Rabastan, who wore almost the same expression.
"Come on, Bella," he taunted, knowing how much she hated her childhood nickname, "you really think you'd be better than me?" He grinned. "Better than my brother, I can believe. Better than me? Unlikely, my dear."
Bellatrix briefly considered cursing him before she realized that her wand was in her room. "Be careful how you boast, Rab," she returned cuttingly. "You'll end up regretting it."
He took the stairs two at a time and closed the gap between them so that there was barely an inch between their faces. Bellatrix was breathing hard.
"Why was the elder Lestrange brother left with no betrothed, while the younger was promised the eldest Black daughter?" she asked suddenly.
He was caught off guard. "Bellatrix, what a question!" He laughed shortly, but his eyes were dark and impassive.
"I've always wondered."
He took a slow step backwards and gave her a small smile. "Keep wondering, Miss Black," he said mysteriously, turning on his heel and moving quickly down the hall.
Bellatrix stood at the bottom of the grand staircase. Rodolphus made a gallant bow and cast an appreciative glance over her figure. She was dangerously resplendent in a dark wine-coloured silk gown that clung to her body like a serpent. Her glossy black hair was pinned up in elaborate curls, and Rodolphus gently tucked one behind her ear and kissed the back of her hand. She gave him a crimson smile and placed her hand atop his proffered arm.
"They'll all be watching you," he whispered in her ear as they made their way towards the ballroom.
"Won't they?" she asked slyly, squeezing his arm cheekily.
They came to the wide doorway and Rodolphus gave her a subtle push forward, letting the glimmering lights of the party fall on her radiant form. He watched, a small smile on his lips, as one by one the heads in the crowd turned like dominos. There were far more in attendance than either of them had expected. Bellatrix took a hesitant step into the room, bringing Rodolphus behind her. Both dipped their heads; Bellatrix, suddenly uncharacteristically nervous, felt her heart pound wildly in her chest and searched for a familiar face in the crowds.
Rodolphus bent and put his mouth to her ear. "Rabastan," he whispered, motioning towards him with a jerk of his chin. The couple quickly pushed their way through the thick line of witches and wizards and found his brother.
"Impressive," Rabastan said, smirking. "You two caused quite a stir." He flicked his wand lazily, and three full champagne flutes zoomed over their heads and lowered themselves into their hands.
"How many of them know?" Rodolphus asked quietly.
"Know what? That you're going to join the Dark Lord tonight?" His brother sipped his drink. "Only a few. A disappointing number of our kind aren't as… enthusiastic about our methods."
Bellatrix frowned and heatedly said, "But they should be. The Dark Lord is the only one who's ever actively tried to purify the wizarding race. How can they stand by and ignore what we're doing? They should be supporting us!" Her hand tightened and shook in anger. A few drops of champagne sloshed over the edge of her glass.
Rabastan shrugged. "They don't understand. Some of them are afraid of the Dark Lord, mostly the older ones who remember Grindelwald and his attempts. Some of them think that we will fail; they're not willing to come aboard what they think is a sinking ship." He pursed his lips and surveyed the room, his brow furrowing. "The worst are the ones who don't even believe in what we're doing. The ones to whom pureblood status is no longer important."
Bellatrix opened her mouth to speak, but Rodolphus, in an uncharacteristically forceful move, cut her off. "And they're here?" he hissed, fury creeping in his voice. "Mother and Father invited blood traitors to their party?"
"Not your father, surely," Bellatrix said, more than a little shocked. Arrakis Lestrange was Death Eater; he couldn't possibly have allowed blood traitors into his home.
Rabastan shook his head. "Of course not. And neither would Mother; you should both know that." He sighed and downed the rest of his champagne. "But they did. It's… complicated. They should not forget their blood, and the time for punishment will come to those who continue to do so. But the Death Eaters aren't exactly well received in society yet, and our parents understand the importance of keeping both their blood status and their societal respect."
Bellatrix could have sworn that he gave her an almost-imperceptible pointed look at that point, but she decided to say nothing about it. "So they invite them to their parties, and then turn around and criticize their ways," she said, one eyebrow raised. "It's nearly as despicable as allowing Muggle-borns. I would never allow a blood traitor to set foot in my home."
"Then you would forget your place in the wizarding world," Rabastan countered. "Until we have out rightful place over the scum of this earth, you must present one face to the outside world, and the other to us. You cannot expect to survive in one world without earning respect in the other."
"And so I will marry Rodolphus, bear his children, host parties, and pander to those who deserve to die. And when will I fight?"
"When the Dark Lord wants you to."
Three heads whipped around in surprise. Silent as a cat, Antonin Dolohov had snuck up behind them and decided that he was a part of their conversation. He smiled toothily, stretching what looked like a fresh scar across his twisted lip, before his eyes found Bellatrix and the grin was wiped from his face. Remembering their last encounter, she glared openly at him.
Rabastan saw the unspoken exchange and quickly said, "Antonin. Bellatrix. Enough. Don't get distracted."
They kept their eyes on each other. Dolohov's glimmered with a combination of anxiety and wounded pride; Bellatrix's were dark with fury.
Rodolphus put a hand on Bellatrix's arm. She shook him off, but he locked an insistent hand around her wrist. "Bellatrix, tell me what's going on."
She didn't take her eyes off of Dolohov. "Nothing. Antonin is one of those people we were talking about, those who underestimate the importance of loyalty to the Dark Lord."
Dolohov didn't miss a beat. "Bellatrix is one of those people who sleeps around with men she doesn't belong to. You should keep her on a shorter leash, Lestrange."
Bellatrix resisted the urge to make a scene by slapping Dolohov across the face. Rodolphus, however, had no such sense of control over his anger.
"You slept with him?" he hissed, digging his fingers into her wrist. She cried out softly and tried to wrench herself out of his grip, but to no avail. "You slept with him?" he repeated.
"No—Rodolphus, he's lying—you don't understand—" He was ruining her perfect evening.
"Save it," he spat. He downed his champagne in one gulp and threw the glass on the floor. It shattered and magically fixed itself, lying on its side on the ballroom floor. Rodolphus dropped her wrist and stalked away.
Bellatrix rubbed the raw skin, looking put out. "What in Merlin's name is wrong with him tonight?" she muttered. "He's been acting like this all evening."
Dolohov laughed. "Acting like what? Like he's got a spine?" He gave Bellatrix a bitter look. "Is it too difficult for you to deal with a man who won't bend to your will?"
She ignored the jibe and demanded, "Why did you tell him I slept with you? We both know it's a lie."
Dolohov shrugged and replied, "I suppose I wasn't remembering the encounter properly. Must not have been memorable."
Rabastan put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Drop it, Antonin," he said tiredly. "You shouldn't have been spilling Death Eater secrets to her, and she shouldn't have baited you." He glanced at Bellatrix. "I'll talk to Rod. Given what little he knew, he was right to be upset, but he shouldn't have made such a scene." He kissed her chastely on the cheek. "Go on, have fun. Drink wine. It's what Mother would want you to do." Glancing at his watch, he added, "It's already past ten. Meet us outside my father's office at eleven. And don't worry about Rodolphus. He'll come around."
"I'm not worried," she protested, crossing her arms over her chest, but Rabastan had already disappeared with Antonin in tow. She sighed and took a sip of champagne. It was beastly stuff, she privately thought, but a shot of firewhiskey would not look appropriate for a seventeen-year-old at her future in-laws' Christmas party. She drifted through the room, catching the eyes of those she recognized and nodding politely. Rodolphus was nowhere to be found. At one point she thought she saw him speaking to his father, but he disappeared the next moment and she couldn't be sure. Another time, she thought she had spotted her sister; this, however, turned out to be true.
"Bellatrix!" Narcissa squealed, hugging her tightly. Bellatrix had the distinct impression that she was being enveloped by a pink and rather inebriated cloud. Lucius Malfoy stood behind her. Bellatrix raised an eyebrow at him over Narcissa's shoulder; he shrugged and pointed to the dripping wine glass that Narcissa had almost dropped.
"Cissy," Bellatrix said through a mouthful of chiffon, "don't make a fool of yourself. It isn't becoming." She managed to extract herself from her sister's grip and nodded at Lucius. "How are you, Malfoy?"
"As well as can be expected," he replied cryptically. "My family's all aflutter; my brother—"
Narcissa interrupted him. "His brother, Bellatrix, can you imagine? No one's heard from him in over a year, and now he's suddenly come back. I can't imagine why he hasn't been around. I certainly hadn't met him, had you? No, of course not," she said, before Bellatrix had answered, "or I swear you wouldn't stay with Rodolphus. Mordred is such the charmer. Not that I don't love you, Lucius—" here she pressed a sloppy kiss to his cheek, "—but you simply must meet him, Bellatrix. He's just the kind of man you'd be interested in." She stumbled slightly and caught her sister's arm for support.
Bellatrix gave Narcissa a withering look. "You can be such a disgrace sometimes, Cissy." She gently pushed her sister towards Lucius. "Malfoy, you should know better than to let her drink so much." She lowered her voice and asked, "Has your brother really returned?"
Lucius nodded. "He's somewhere here at the party, I believe. The Dark Lord's finally decided to let him back into the fold." He shook his head in disgust. "Don't listen to a word Narcissa says. He's a charmer, yes, but he's also a womanizer and a drinker. I'm sure you've heard the story of why he was forced to leave."
Bellatrix nodded. "Is it true that he's been gathering information in his absence?"
"I don't know. He wouldn't say." Narcissa hiccupped softly from Lucius' arms, and he hoisted her up so that she could lean on him. "Come on then, love, let's get you a Sobering Potion. I'm sure the Lestranges have some hidden away somewhere."
"A what potion?"
Bellatrix pursed her lips and stared after her sister, finishing her champagne gracefully. A passing house elf held up a tray, and she abandoned her glass and made her way closer to the tall grandfather clock. 10:45. She couldn't help grinning in anticipation as an exhilarated shiver shook her shoulders.
"Not cold, I hope?" came a smooth, unknown voice from behind her. Another glass of champagne materialized in the air beside her hand. Without speaking, she waved it away.
"I don't blame you," continued the smooth voice. "I'd want something stronger if I were you."
Bellatrix began to wonder if she hadn't heard that voice somewhere before. She refused to turn around. It wasn't polite for an unknown man to simply begin speaking to her without introducing himself first.
"Now, a firewhiskey might do you some good, m'lady. But then again, aren't you a bit young?"
Bellatrix's eyes widened in recognition. She turned slowly on her heel, arms crossed over her chest, and found herself face to face with a tall man. His chocolate brown hair was swept back and secured with an elegant silver ribbon that matched the trim on his dress robes. His aquiline nose and smooth-shaven chin were above her eye level, and she had to take a step back to see his face.
"You!" she gasped softly, not wishing to attract the attention of those around them. "You're that… that bartender from the Hog's Head!"
The man held up his hands in a show of confession. "Guilty, I'm afraid."
She stared angrily up into his face. A lowly worker from Hogsmeade at such a prestigious party was unheard of. "How dare you presume to speak to me? How dare you set foot in the house of those far beyond your station?"
He lowered his hands slowly with a wicked smile. "My apologies. I did not properly introduce myself, I'm afraid, either at this meeting or at our last. Do you always keep company with characters such as Antonin Dolohov?"
"Don't stain the names of your betters with your foul lips," she hissed. "Leave my presence at once!"
He shrugged. "Suit yourself, Miss Black." He turned to go.
"Stop!" she said, flustered. "How do you know my name? And how did you know Antonin's?"
The man stopped in his tracks and smiled at her. His teeth glinted in the candlelight. "I told you, Miss Black, I did not have the chance to properly introduce myself." Bowing, he caught her hand and kissed the back of it with soft, cool lips. "Mordred Malfoy, your humble servant."
She drew her hand back in surprise. "You're lying."
Mordred chuckled softly, his back still bent in a courteous bow. "I assure you, Bellatrix—may I call you Bellatrix?—that I'm not lying."
She couldn't help whispering, "But you're in disgrace."
He straightened slowly. "Ah, yes. So you've heard." He let out a lazy sigh. "I was in disgrace, to be precise. The Dark Lord has been forgiving to me."
"You must know that such a favour can never be returned."
He gave a sad smile. "Then you know that his pardons are few and far between. No, I cannot expect to live up to such uncharacteristic mercy. But I can make amends. I have been… listening for the Dark Lord."
A sudden idea dawned upon Bellatrix, and she asked, "Is that why you were working in the Hog's Head?"
Mordred nodded. "And as you can imagine, all sorts of unsavoury characters find their way in there at one time or another. Present company excepted, of course." He winked at Bellatrix.
She was uncomfortable, but she kept it hidden. "You knew who I was when I was there with Antonin."
"I did." He didn't explain how. "Although I must say, this light suits you better. You're even more beautiful than I thought."
He was being forward, but Bellatrix was too curious to care. "What about Antonin?" she asked. "Why didn't he speak to you?"
Mordred shrugged and replied, "Several reasons, I suppose. He may not have seen me properly; none but the Dark Lord knew where I went. He may simply have refused to acknowledge me; most of my former companions have shown me similar ignorance tonight. Or perhaps he was too distracted by the young woman in front of him to notice an old friend waiting in the wings."
Distracted. The word brought Rabastan's face looming into Bellatrix's imagination, and she remembered what she had heard about Mordred Malfoy. "Well, Mr. Malfoy, it was a pleasure to make your acquaintance." She glanced up at the clock, and her heart skipped a beat. 10:58. "But I'm afraid I have somewhere to be."
He followed her gaze to the intricately carved clock face. "What fortuitous luck, Miss Black." He held out his arm. "I have to be there as well. May I escort you?"
Bellatrix bit her lip and hesitantly curled her hand around his arm. "I'd be delighted."
-(Phew! I'm so glad I got this out now. Sorry it took so long; as you can tell, it's considerably longer than any of the previous chapters. I'm getting the distinct impression that the readers are fond of Rabastan, so I'm trying to include as much of him as I can before Bellatrix and Rodolphus go back to school. He's actually one of my favourite characters to write, mostly because I love the way he expresses himself. I'd love feedback on how his character's developing. I'd also love to hear your thoughts on Arrakis Lestrange and Mordred Malfoy--did you see that one coming?--and anything else in the chapter.
I want to bring up a point that were raised to me by a couple of reviewers. Severus and Bellatrix, according to JKR's timeline, are ten years apart in age and could never have been at Hogwarts together. The short answer to this is that I ignored it because I wanted to develop a relationship between their younger selves. Let me know if you'd like to hear the long answer. This is likely not the last time that I will mess around with the timeline to include Death Eaters. I'm hoping that you'll be able to suspend your disbelief and allow me to play with the characters. Having said that, if you have any questions or think I may have made a mistake, please don't hesitate to let me know.
Next chapter will be the initiation and the introduction of the Dark Lord. I'm excited. I hope you're excited. I'm excited. I'm supremely excited. Chapter ten will begin at the Lestranges' house and move to Hogwarts. After that, who knows?
A huge thank you to Attraversiamo, who continues to be a loyal, helpful, and thought-provoking reviewer. To everyone else--as I've said before, I don't write for reviews. However, any review, whether it be purely flattering or constructive, is helpful in continuing the story that you want to read. So thanks in advance for your continued reviews.
Thanks for reading!)-
-(Click the button!)-