Thanks, Mate
chapter eleven; Cry
AN: ahh, yay! Another chapter! Here it is, and I have a little message for you guys at the end… read on!
WARNING: Lots of cursing here, a bit more than usual. Just in case it offends you or anything.
"ShetoldHermionetoconsiderabortionandthenshefaintedandthat'sit."
Before Malfoy even registered what had happened, he found himself wincing from a slight pain from the back of his neck as he was slammed against pure stone. The blood slithering down his neck onto his robes was in such contrast with his pale skin that it looked almost eerie.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" his attacker screamed, letting him fall from the wall to the ground, continuing without breath. "I swear on your mother's life, Malfoy, if you ever, ever, think of saying that to my face again, I'll rip your fucking lips right off your face! Then we'll see how hard you can bleed, yeah?"
Malfoy inhaled hard, barely ingesting Ron's words as he held his chest, grasping for breath. That slam really did hurt; he could just feel his brain vibrating from the impact. He propped his body up on his free arm, looking up into Ron's eyes to decipher what he'd missed in words. He grimaced. "Let's get one thing straight, Weasley; you ever crash me like that again and you'll have more than a little blood loss to reckon with." Ron's eyes raged, and his voice began growling as he opened his mouth to speak, simultaneously whipping his leg out to kick Malfoy's support arm straight off the ground. "I'm not done talking yet!" Malfoy snarled, his hand grabbing Ron's outstretched foot and twisting it at such an angle that his head would hit he ground before the rest of his body. Malfoy took the time to stand as Ron screamed, sputtering curses wherever he had the extra breath to do so, thrashing around in his spot on the ground in a mix of sheer fury and pain.
"I'll smack you, you little fuck; you have no - "
"Merlin, will you shut the hell up, Weasley? I don't fucking care if you got a little denial going on, that's your business; you ever knock me over it again, though. . . it's called don't kill the fucking messenger! Ever heard of it?"
"Listen, you, you tell me what's really wrong with her, none of this bullshite,because I'm about to - "
"What, Weasel? You think she wouldn't want this all to end? Is that what you think?"
Ron stopped cold. His whole body froze, forcing his mind to actually consider that as beads of sweat ran down his face. Malfoy stepped back, startled by the reaction. Ron gritted his teeth, his tones so rough that his message was barely recognizable. "She wouldn't do that. She wouldn't kill her own kid."
"Oh, come on! Be a man, you little shite!" Malfoy ordered, grabbing Ron by his shirt collar and throwing him up into a standing position. Ron stepped back as he stabilized himself, staring at Malfoy so maliciously that one could only conclude he fully intended to kill him. "If you really think I'm lying to you right now, you've got no fucking sense of decorum. I'd lie to your face any day without one problem, but you don't mess in shitewith people's kids; it sure as hell isn't funny, not by me."
Ron's expression lay completely unchanged.
"Did you hear a word I just said?" Malfoy burst, exasperated, his head feeling a bit numb from the open wound on his neck. "I said it's the truth; does that mean anything to you?"
"Not really." he grunted.
"Merlin, not even a blasted apology? 'Gee, sorry, Malfoy, for crushing your whole body into solid stone for no real legit purpose'? Ugh, and you wonder why she would consider it." he spat, turning to leave.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Ron asked darkly, ignoring the attempt to leave.
Malfoy turned on his heel slowly. "I thought that much was obvious."
"Well, obviously not."
The Slytherin raised an eyebrow, carrying out his explanation in as sarcastically belittling a voice he could, completely fed up with his Gryffindor counterpart. "Where to start. . . you screamed at Lavender Brown the other day for attempting to help that girl of yours, you were in a huff-puff with your sister the whole dinner period, only to come out here and kick the wall a few times just to vent, and you've just now attempted to completely crush me for no apparent reason, aside from denial. I'm guessing you've got a few anger issues to deal with, yeah?"
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"A lot." Malfoy snarled. "Because who's to say you won't do it to Hermione next?"
Ron's teeth clenched almost as fast as his fists, and he walked straight up to Malfoy with the most ominous presence he'd ever withheld. He extracted his fist from his pocket, punching him so hard in the face that he nearly fell straight off his feet. "Listen good, Malfoy; I will never in my life hit Hermione. Ever. You ever suggest that to me again, though, and I'd have no hesitation hitting you for all I'm worth. And I sure as hell won't be some abusive son of a bitch like that disgusting pig of a father she has, mark my fucking words."
And with that, he was gone.
Who's to say you won't do it to Hermione next?
If only Draco had known just how powerful those words could be.
Dark.
Even with the lights spelled on, the place desperately needed respelling.
Hard, musky scent he'd known well over a year now.
He hated that scent.
Mum would be coming any second with a new room for them to clean.
No, not this time; they were at Grimmauld Place for other reasons. . .
Piercing screams echoing through the ceiling, resonating in contrast to a loud smack. . .
"I'm sorry, Daddy, I'm sorry!"
"You should be shot for what you let that wizard scum do to you! It's time you learned some respect, some obedience; Lord knows you've defied me enough. . ."
Rushing up the stairs.
Merlin, which room? Where are they?
"Daddy, no; please. . ."
Creaking as the door flies off its hinges.
"Don't touch her, you bastard!"
The sound of a punch, of bones breaking under its impact.
"How dare you! She's your daughter! I swear, you ever hit her again. . ."
Silence.
The steady breathing of an unconscious figure on the floor.
"Ron. . ."
"What's wrong with you? Why didn't you hit him? Don't let him do that to you."
Subtle gasping.
". . .I'm sorry."
"You should be. What's wrong with you?"
Footsteps approaching her.
"I'm sorry, Ron; I swear. . ."
No; he wouldn't do it. . .Not to her. . .
No. . .
Ron choked as he awoke, unable to stabilize his breath effectively against the memory.
No, not memory. Dream. It was just a dream.
He panted, sitting up in his sweat-ridden bed, running his clammy fingers through his hair. So much sweat. He shivered, letting the comfort of reality ebb his nightmare away.
He shivered again. His reality wasn't that great either.
"Holy Merlin. . ." he squeaked, just hearing Malfoy's goddamn voice in his head. Who's to say you won't do it to Hermione next? He clenched his jaw, letting it go just as quickly to utter a bitter chuckle. This wasn't happening. How could he have gotten so bad that he actually had to think about how to restrain himself around people? And even worse, around Hermione? He wasn't raised like this. Okay, so sure, he wasn't exactly impartial to the occasional brawl with the twins or getting Percy what he deserved now and again (though he certainly deserved more than Ron ever chose to serve him up.). That was ridiculously inevitable with six boys shoved within the same four rooms for half their lives. But still, it's not like all they ever did was fight. It was just. . . their way to earn some respect from each other, say. That's all. What could be wrong with that?
That's what you did with Malfoy too, isn't it, punching him to get him in his place?
Ron blinked. Malfoy couldn't possibly count; he was being a right foul git, Ron only gave him what he had coming. Then again, he was being kinda foul himself, wasn't he? In fact, half of that conversation probably wouldn't have taken place if Ron had half the decency to keep the focus on the real problem at hand and not the few remaining fragments of his sound reputation.
He grunted. There goes that decency thing again.
Okay, so the respect theory didn't seem extremely farfetched. But Draco-blasted-Malfoy? What could possibly make Ron care what he thought? He hated the bastard, and the feeling, of course, was drastically mutual. It didn't make any sense!
Maybe because no one talks to you anymore?
Ha. Now that was a thought.
Think about it; when was the last time you sat in the common room without every eye plastered to your back? The last time you sat in the great hall with your whole crew, not a care in the whole world? They all think you're disgusting. They think you deserve Azkaban, leaving Hermione with a child like that. It's only fitting you'd want to make a new little friend, even if it is Malfoy.
Ron beat his head into his pillow, completely unwilling to hear it.
You knew what could happen if she got pregnant; you knew she'd be the one left all alone, but you didn't think about that, did you? You didn't possibly think that she might not know that, what with being muggleborn and all, didn't even think to mention it! Real mature, yeah? Responsible, too.
WELL, WHEN YOU'RE ALL CAUGHT UP IN THE MOMENT, YOU'RE HARDLY THINKING OF THINGS LIKE THAT! Ron fought himself, almost shaking from the intense effect those thoughts really did have on him. And it's not like I've been spending so much time in Gryffindor anymore; I don't have time for people to talk to me.
Not even Harry?
Ron's eyes rose slowly, fixed on the curtain that separated his bed from Harry's as his mind chose to continue the argument.
It sure has been a while since he last talked to you, hasn't it? Makes you wonder what he thinks of all this, yeah?
That's got nothing to do with me. he fought, thinking it so hard that he would have no other choice but to believe it. He still thinks Ginny's upset with him, and Ginny's been hanging around me, so that's why he hasn't been with us a lot. . .
What's stopping him from talking to you in the dorms, then?
Ron lay completely still, able to finish that thought on his own, but his mind had grown so increasingly sarcastic that it just had to torture him further.
You've gone so low that not even the all-accepting hero of the whole fricken wizarding world will speak with you. In fact, when you think of it, that's probably why Malfoy can bear to talk to you at all; you've finally stooped to his level. You've made yourself his equal among the scum of the earth, a title you accepted the moment you decided you wanted his blasted respect, which you only wanted because you were feeling a little lonely. You figured if you were already damned then you may as well make a name for yourself among the cretins. Bit cunning, actually; very Slytherin tactic for a Gryffindor. See? You're looking like his equal already! Congratulations; you've got the moral fiber of a Malfoy.
Ron rocked in his spot, grasping his pillow between his arms as tightly as he could manage as he thought. Shut up, shut up. . . But it wouldn't go away. It just kept repeating itself until he found himself falling off his bed, hitting the thin rug at his bedside, feeling the impact of falling on stone through it.
"What was that?" Neville shrieked, waking in such a panic that everyone in the room seemed to jump out of their sleep. "Whoever's in here, you'd better leave now, or. . . or. . ."
"Ron!" Harry interrupted, leaning off the side of his bed to meet his friend's eyes. "God, are you alright?"
Ron only stared up into his best mate's eyes, his expression as blank as he could have ever managed before, searching for something. Anything. He didn't care what he found in Harry's eyes, he just wanted it to be genuine, whatever it was. Something real. . . but it wasn't there. Not this time. He shivered slightly, peeling his vision away from him, closing his eyes so he wouldn't be tempted to go looking again. Could he really have gone so rotten, so despicable, that even Harry was disgusted by him?
He had to fix this. And he had to fix it now.
"Hermione!" Ron called desperately, shutting the hospital wing door closed so Madame Pomfrey wouldn't hear. He rushed to the side of her bed, shaking her ever so slightly. "Hermione, wake up! Please, wake up!"
"Merlin, Weasley; what now?"
Ron raised his eyes defensively to the bed across the way, watching as Malfoy rubbed his eyes, his every action laced with annoyance. "Save it, Malfoy; I'm not here for you."
"And you still have the cheek to come in here and wake me up at 2 in the morning? Oh, that's nice." Malfoy suddenly blinked, his whole demeanor completely changing. "Oh, wait. . . Don't wake her up; it'll only mess her whole sleep pattern up."
"What?"
"She's sedated; she's got to come out of it naturally, or. . ."
"What'd you do that for?" Ron shot back, appalled and enraged all at once. "My God, Malfoy, you can't just do that to her; there's Norwegian Wet-grain all over those potions! What if you got her addicted to it? Or the baby, for Merlin's sake?"
"I didn't give her anything, Weasley; Pomfrey did. And do you really think she'd forget something like that? Norwegian Wet-grain's not the only way to knock someone out, or are you really that dense?"
"Oh, so sue me for caring! And what's with this 'Don't wake her up, it'll only mess her whole sleep pattern up'? Since when are you some medical expert, knowing something like that?"
"Since Pomfrey told me 'Don't wake her up, Draco, it'll only mess her whole sleep pattern up'." Draco stated, a smirk crossing his lips. Ron grunted.
". . .Ron?"
"Too late!" Malfoy said in a little sing-song tune, turning over to sleep again. Ron winced as he saw the bandage that draped the back of Draco's neck; he must have lied to Pomfrey about how it happened.
"That you?" Hermione's voice came again, her eyes only opening slightly.
"Yeah." he whispered, kneeling at the side of her bed and leaning against it, raising a hesitant hand to stroke her hair. He left it to rest atop her head, relaxing as he felt her settle under it. That was good. Very good. "How're you feeling?" he asked, finding a bit more confidence.
"Tired."
Ron smiled weakly. "Oh, right, the potion. . . Sorry." He could've kicked himself, he felt so bad.
"Umhm." she managed, sounding as if she were to drift back to sleep any second now. "What're you doing here?"
Ron paused, biting his lip. "I just. . . uh, needed to talk to you, that's all . . ."
"About what?"
"Just. . . things, I guess. . ."
Silence.
"I love you." he whispered smally, so low that she couldn't have possibly heard it in her current state.
"Hm?" she asked, settling down deeper in her pillow.
"I love you." he repeated. "And I'm sorry, too."
"Don't be." she replied, though her current frame of mind prevented her from asking what for. "And I. . . I love you."
Ron blinked slowly, biting his lip as he spoke. He shouldn't be asking this. ". . .What was that?"
"What?"
Definitely should not be asking this. "That. . . hesitation. What was that?"
"Hesitation? What. . .?"
His face fell all the same. "You don't think I mean it."
She groaned slightly, turning her head to bring her lazy hands to rub her eyes. "Ron, I'm half asleep." She tried to sit up slightly, letting his hand fall from her head. A moment passed before he replaced it, but she waved it away drowsily, yawning as she continued to brush her hair out of the way. Only then did she look up at his stricken face, utterly confused. "Ron?"
"Please, Mione. . . Please don't push me away like that anymore. . . I can't take it."
She only stared at him. "Ron. . ."
"I know I've been scaring you lately, and - "
"Scaring me? Wait just a moment!" she said, almost instantly awake. Her eyes bore into his, reading for something, almost scared at his very train of thought. "Scaring. . . how could you possibly think that?"
"That's why you won't let me touch you, right? You're scared of me."
"That's not it at all, Ron! Not even close!"
"What is it, then?"
"I just. . ." She paused, delving into a quiet presence, unable to look him in the eyes. "I just have a lot on my mind."
". . .Do you wanna talk about it?" She nodded fervently, and Ron's heart instantly sank. Was she really waiting for someone to vent to all this time? How could he let her down like that? Ashamed of himself, he let his head hang, trying to look as encouraging as he could.
"I love you." she started, playing with her fingers as she worked through it, speaking as if Ron were only there to listen and not to react. "I mean, I know I love you. I have to, right? It's just. . ." She paused, sighing slightly. "It's just this; I was talking to McGonagall the other day. . ." Ron felt his fist clench at the mention of that name. "And she said that. . . we're fooling ourselves. And we're just scared, and confused, and naïve, and. . ." She swallowed, her voice choking slightly. "And it's just. . . hard not to think about it, that's all."
"Don't dwell on it. She didn't mean for it."
"But she did; that's exactly what she meant for, and every time I tell myself she's wrong. . . it just finds some other way to come back and make me think on it. And every time I think about it. . ." She shook her head. "I just don't want it to happen again."
Silence.
"Do you think she's wrong?" Ron asked silently. Hermione looked up at him, staring into his expression. Blank. Completely blank. He wasn't looking for deeper meaning; he just wanted her to talk. Help her reason through it.
She swallowed, bracing herself for the worst. "I don't know." Her reply hung in the air as she studied his reaction, noticing nothing but a slight flinch. Okay, so he reacted. At least he was trying. It almost even comforted her that he had let a response slip, in a way. . . almost. "It just. . . makes sense, don't you think?"
No answer.
She swallowed harder, shivering slightly, convinced she'd just made a horrible mistake. Every second more that Ron chose not to react just made her feel the weight of her guilt more, and more, and more, until. . . "Never mind."
Ron looked up. "What?"
"Forget I said anything. . . honestly, what was I thinking? I just. . . ugh, forget it. It's the hormones."
"No, Mione, keep going; I was ju - "
"I love you." she interrupted, her voice going higher and higher in pitch as she became closer and closer to bawling. "I love you so, so much, and I - "
"Whoa, there!" Ron interjected, grabbing hold of her hands in an attempt to calm her down. He brushed his fingertips across her forehead momentarily, pushing the loose strands of hair in her face to rest behind her ears. "I don't want you crying like that, alright? And I definitely don't want you to say all that if you don't think you mean it." Hermione froze, shocked by his bluntness. How could he just say something like that? So easily, too?
He got up off his knees, letting Hermione inch over slowly so he could sit beside her. He propped her pillow up against the headboard of the bed, letting her settle in comfortably with him against it, squeezing her hands before he continued. "This is just. . . you and me right now, alright?" He swallowed. "No McGonagall, no Malfoy, no. . . no Azkaban, no nothing; just you and me, talking like best mates. Cause that's what we were before we were anything, right?"
"Right." she squeaked uncertainly.
"And mates can say anything they want to each other, yeah?"
"Umhm."
"Okay." he finalized, letting the silent air all around them be his prod.
"Okay." she echoed. "Okay. . ." She breathed in deeply, letting it come out nice and smooth. "I love you," She shook her head as he opened his mouth to say something. "No, let me finish. I love you, but. . . I dunno, I guess I. . . forgot. . ."
"Forgot." he repeated. Did that sound angry? It sounded angry, didn't it? Ugh, why did it have to sound angry? He just wanted to prod her, damnit!
The anger, however, was all in his head, and the confidence that grew with her every word proved it. "Yeah, that's right. . . like. . . I don't. . . feel it like I used to, you know?" She shrugged. "Like right now. How we are, wrapped up like this. . . it'd make my whole body shake just being close to you like that. . ." She shook her head. "It's just normal now."
Ron tilted his head. "We're just. . . used to each other now, I guess. . ."
She shook her head. "No, that's not it. It's more like. . ." She paused, wording it in her head. "What with everything that's happened, and all the stress, and the strain, and the. . . we've forgotten ourselves. Like we're completely different people now."
Ron snickered. "Definitely."
"I mean, Ron, all these things keep happening to me, and I just. . . don't remember. I've got 3 whole days missing from my life. Meanwhile, Draco can tell me at least 3 conversations we'd had during that time straight up. And the screaming. . . I've already told you about that, I'm not doing it again. And I'm all disheveled all the time, and discomposed, and I sound like a babbling idiot all the time, not to mention I'm completely bipolar. Oh, and utterly useless. . . Have I told you that I haven't been able to perform one single spell in over a month? Not one bloody spell! I mean, something has to be completely wrong with me. . ."
"It's the pregnancy." he said. "When the baby's magical core starts growing, it exhausts the mother's, or something. . . something to do with conflicting energies. . .I don't really remember. . ."
"What's that mean?"
"Well, the baby's not a squib." he offered. Hermione rolled her eyes.
Pause.
"I'm not proud of it, but. . ." Ron started, biting his lip. "I'm not who I used to be, either. And. . . you know, with everything that happened, who wouldn't change?"
"No one, I know. But what worries me is. . ." She inclined her head guiltily. ". . .is that these new people we've become. . . they aren't really as good for each other as we would have thought, that's all."
The sound of Draco's heavy breathing as he slept. And only that.
"I think I just. . . need some time, just to think this all over. . ." Hermione resolved quietly. "I mean, Ron, we're in way over our heads! Think about it; a baby. A real, live baby. And it's our responsibility. What are we getting ourselves into?"
". . .Should I answer that?"
Hermione sighed. "No; of course not. I'm sorry. It's just a lot."
"What're you covering for? I didn't say you were wrong."
"You're thinking it." she accused, crestfallen.
"Am not." She gave him a hard look at that response, to which he stared her straight in the eye. "You and me." he reminded her. "I'm fine; trust me." She shrugged uncertainly. "'What are we getting ourselves into?'. . ." he nudged, his hand moving in the air as he spoke, motioning for her to continue the thought.
"What are we getting ourselves into. . ." she started, spitting out the rest of her argument in a matter-of-factly tone. "We're sixteen years old, we shouldn't be doing this, we have no clue how to raise a child, I have no clue how to raise a child with no help," she paused. "Enough?" she pleaded. He shook his head slowly, suddenly not able to look at her. He didn't want to hear it; he knew that much for certain. But she needed to hear herself say it. Hell, she needed him to hear her say it, and they both knew it. Tears surfaced in her eyes, and she hiccupped subtly, choking out her words. "It's not a good idea, Ron; it's not. We can't do this."
The heaving of Ron's chest as he breathed in deeper and deeper was so loud that he could barely hear her soft whimpering; had he not been able to feel her tears seeping through his t-shirt, he wouldn't have even known she was crying.
In fact, it was only then that Ron realized he'd come down to the hospital wing all the way from Gryffindor Tower, at two in the morning, wearing nothing but his pants and a t-shirt. I could have at least grabbed some trousers. . .
But for all the embarrassment, he barely seemed to feel any of it past the abrupt urge to either hit something or cry, neither of which his conscious mind felt like doing. He shoved his fist in his mouth, nibbling on his knuckles until they were white; an action that seemed to delay both impulses. He just continued on like that, biting down his urges as his free hand ruffled Hermione's hair reflexively for comfort. He didn't seem to have any thoughts running through his head, any words, yet the voice he was hearing out loud sounded strangely like his own. "So, I guess all this about us not being. . . you know, for real. . . McGonagall was just leading up to. . ." He caught hold of his tongue at that moment, mentally scolding it for speaking without permission.
Hermione seemed to give no prod, still sniveling and tearing with her face pressed in his chest. He was positive she hadn't heard, so unbelievably sure, until he heard just three syllables whispered from her lips; "You and me."
Huh. Fancy that.
He chuckled slightly, unsure of how it felt to hear his own words used to manipulate him like that. His eyes closed suddenly in a wince, though he couldn't say if it were from biting his knuckle too hard or tormenting himself for even thinking of asking this. Given the next words out of his mouth, he assumed the former. Idiot. "Hermione. . . are you. . ." He shook his head in anguish, letting his hand free from his teeth to cover his eyes. "Are you thinking about abortion?" he blurted, sounding more like a monotonous stream of useless words than a question.
Without a doubt, the most awkward moment the world had ever seen. The silent air around him had such a disgusting, bitter taste that he wanted to cough more than anything, but he held it; he didn't quite know how long it would last once it started, and it was all they didn't need to have more uneasiness on them.
Ugh, what was taking her so long? Simple yes-no question, could be answered without a thought. He was shaking from anxiety, damnit! How could he be so insensitive? What was wrong with him? Why ask something like that? She was ready to burst, he could just feel it; any second now, she'd start ranting and raving, high on hormones, mind you, about what a disgusting, despicable, general asinine ass he was in words he couldn't spell for all the bloody treasures in the known world.
She'd be right. He could just feel that tidbit, as well.
"I need time to think about all this." her words came finally, just as emotionless as the question had been.
Ron felt his heart falling to the floor with a sickening splatter, being beaten with a mallet for good measure. "Yeah." he croaked, suddenly not able to take one more whiff of that air. He rose slowly, squeezing her hand before letting it go, leaning in to kiss her forehead before stopping himself. Bad idea. Really bad idea. His lips curled wryly, his face so bare of any emotion; it was all at work inside him, unable to spare any traces of color or feeling for his face.
Hermione was so. . . so shaken, so distraughtly flustered, that she barely noticed the thick thudding of the door as he left. No words. No thoughts. Just. . . things. Things she couldn't name. Wasn't coherent enough to name. Wasn't coherent enough to count the minutes. Maybe hours. Something cold on her hand. So cold it made her cringe.
Draco's hand was steady, pushing the potion just close enough for her fingertips to brush it, attempt to identify it. Calming draught. She pushed it away, shaking her head wordlessly, not even looking up at him. He exhaled slowly, staring at her thoughtfully before retreating to his bedside. He picked his trousers up from the bedpost, extracting a handkerchief that he took his time walking back with. The instant she felt the fabric against her hand, her eyes softened, and she nodded ever so slowly as she clutched it.
He pulled a chair up to her bedside, sitting without one single word or expression as he watched her cry herself to sleep.
AN: ahh, done:P okay, so I have a bit of a message/celebration for you today, if you could call it that. I realize that it has now been two entire years since I started this fic. I also realize I've only gotten about 10 chapters done in that span of time. Yes, it's pathetic, but I still have school to deal with and other web obligations, so yeah. BUT! I just have to say I'm glad it took me this long, because if it didn't, this entire fic would have been disgustingly cliché. I started this fic when I was about 14; cliché's only expected, ne? But because it took so long, not only has my entire writing style completely changed and improved (you can actually tell who's talking now, ne? Haha, kind of important.), but my plot bending has become a whole lot better too. I've come up with a major, MAJORR plot twist I'm planning that will involve Draco, (and just to mention it now, it'sNOT gonna be something stupid like Hermione falling in love with him or something. . . Ooooohhhh, it's gonna be so awesome! -squeals- ) and when I originally started, Draco's only purpose would have been the classroom scene with Trelawney and nothing else. It's just generally a lot better, and as cliché as it does sound, I think it took me this long for a reason so it would turn out to be so much better of a fic. I never would have been able to make this fic work the right way when I started it. I just wouldn't. So, that said, I'm writing SO much faster now, if you hadn't noticed; this has now been the second chapter that I've updated within the same month, and my next goal is to get the next chapter up in two weeks, and so on, because from this point on in the fic, I have everything so completely planned. There will be two OC's coming up very, very soon in this fic, one who I only dreamed up about a week ago that I'm extremely excited to get started on, and the other is one that I've been dying to write about since this fic started. Both are guaranteed to be so much fun to write, I'm excited like you can't imagine.
When I started this fic, I thought it would be around 15 chapters. Now, more realistically, with all the extra little things I'm adding in and such, it'll be more like 25-30 chapters when it's all finished. I'm still contemplating whether I want an epilouge or leave it at the ending I'm doing.
So, basically, the point of that whole message was, don't worry, because this fic will get finished a whole lot faster now, and you can expect a whole lot more from me from this point on. Thanks so much for all of your reviews guys, you really do make me giddy :P
Much, MUCH love. . .
hearts!
– Suki
PS – sidenote; if you are not on the author alert list and you would like an email when this is updated, scroll up and click to my profile/bio and click the link there to subscribe. Thankss!
formatting updated July 26, 2006