Hello, and welcome back to Ginger's Change, a Dramione fanfiction. Last time on Change, Draco had mysteriously and accidentally used Dark magic on Hermione Granger. She was taken to the Hospital Wing, and Draco Malfoy is on his way there at the moment. However, he is unknowingly being tracked by the other members of the Golden Trio. What will happen when they find him? Find out in just a moment…
After a word from our sponsors:
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Robgirl: Well, it was going to be Harry Ron and Ginny, but I had to fudge things a little to make it fit better, so it's only Harry and Ron. No worries, though, Gin gets her say. And I'm glad you like the part with Nichols. It took some serious thinking to get that on the page, but at least I know it was worth it. Thanks for reviewing!
Manicmundae: yes, that happens to me too – I forget the beginning of the chapter because the end is so awesome, so I'll take that as a compliment . Glad I kept you guys on your toes with the smooth writing. Thank you so much! Pansy's defeat was one of my favorite things to write! And Ron and Rachael's kiss? I actually wasn't planning that at all, until I got to the sentence right before it happened, and then it just seemed natural, so that took me as much by surprise as you! Lol. And good if I scared you with the flashback. That was kind of the point, no? So, anywho, please enoy this latest chapter. I think you'll like it.
Kuro Yuki Valkyrie: Yeah, I also really enjoyed that image. I was trying to think of good running comparisons, I thought of that, and then I though, huh, what if he were actually being chased? Hmmmmm…. That's usually how my ideas come to pass – chance. I like your interpretation of Draco's reaction to his deed. I don't like using the word 'love' lightly, but it seems that's what this is morphing into very quickly. Guess I'll have to keep up . Well, thanks for reviewing, and I hope you like this chapter!
Akilah55: Yes, only 5 more…in fact, I have them all planned out now, which is nice. I hate not knowing where I'm going. I'll miss this fic too, though recently I tend to agree with you, the mushy stuff just starts to wear on you. My next fic will be a lot less fluffy, I promise (if you're interested in reading it, that is). It's a Ginny-Draco still in the beginning stages, but…yes, um, where was I? Oh, right. I also don't really like vanilla pudding! But, couldn't you just buy a bunch of chocolate packages? Right? I got some today, the sugar free kind. They're really great snacks. So, thanks for your review, and enjoy!
Heart.: How could I? Quite easily, actually. You don't give Draco enough credit for being a little off his rocker, when something triggers him. It's like River from Firefly – though you probably don't know that series, so nevermind. And I took your review into account when writing this. I wasn't going to have a frightened Hermione, but you're right, I would be too if I were her. Thanks!
Rachella23: I love that you enjoy the relationships, especially because I work really hard to make those just right. And it's great that that was so unexpected. Thanks tons! As for Draco making it there in one piece…well, you'll see…
RomanHoliday: Yes, he did handle it fairly well, didn't he? Well, this is not the first of such confrontations he's encountered before – though it was the first he knew of first hand. And it means so much to me that you said that. Thank you! Enjoy this chapter!
So this first scene took me about 10 rewrites to finally get it good and proper. I switched around EVERYTHING, and got some help from the lovely Luridel (arigato, oneesan!) and finally it all started to fit into place. Yay!
Now, you are all tirelessly waiting for the chapter to actually begin, so even though I have some stuff to say (yes Margot, you're part of it, you sneaky minx) I'll leave it til later if you actually promise to read it later, deal?
Let's get it started! (and the base is running, running, and running, running, and running, running…)
Chapter 25: Why?
Draco was still running. He was finally getting close to the Hospital Wing. Just a little further, around this corner, up the stairs, and…
"Malfoy"
Draco skidded to a stop at the sound of his name falling in an angry, but loud hiss. He turned around.
Well you should have expected this much, idiot.
I deserve it too
Ah, that you do, mate, though not as much as you think
What?
But his subconscious quieted as the gravity of his situation sunk in. He was very alone in a corridor with two very angry, very ferocious, very adept Gryffindors, both of whom were pelting at him with breakneck speed, wands not even drawn.
Within the next second or two, with a cry of rage, Weasel had taken him by the collar of his robes and slammed him against the nearest wall, Draco's head hitting the stones with a frightening 'crack.' Glaring, the redhead said, "you actually thought you could get away with a stunt like that? What, did you think no one noticed what happened? Did you think we wouldn't find you? Sad, really, that pretty face of yours isn't going to be very pretty once we're done with you."
Another second passed, Potter approached and growled, a dangerous sound, and then a fist was in his face—his eye to be specific. Damn, that really hurt. That really hurt. That would definitely bruise.
And then both of them were pounding their fists into every inch of him—stomach, jaw, nose, sides, shoulder...
Draco thought he felt, in a daze of agony, one pair of hands being retracted, but the other set were so painfully brutal, he didn't have a thought of rejoicing or wondering, just pain, and more pain.
At least they weren't using the Cruciatus, he thought humorlessly.
Draco thought about fighting back. At least that might give him a moment's respite. But at what cost? What was the point? To get them more pissed off? No, Draco had dealt with much worse ambushes than this. The best thing was to just let them get it out of their systems. Draco would probably be fine—probably.
And then suddenly it stopped. One of them—the one with red hair? Yes—was still holding him up by his robes, but the other arm, poised to strike, was being held tightly by Potter. "Hold on," he muttered. Faintly, Draco looked up, his eyes locking with a pair of questioning green ones. Potter asked in a sharp voice, "why aren't you fighting back? Why aren't you trying to hurt us, too?"
"Didn't mean to hurt her…don't want to fight…deserve this…" His nosebleed was starting to filter into his mouth, the coppery taste almost soothing, and coupled with the headache now growing, Draco wasn't really in a grammatically-sound state (or any other sort of –sound state). But they got the message.
Weasley, still dreadfully suspicious, pulled his arm out of Potter's grasp, "What the fuck are you talking about? How could you not mean to use Dark magic? That stuff doesn't happen by accident. I should kill you right here…" but his voice trailed off as something made a noise down the hall—a pair of clicking footsteps.
Both of their heads snapped up, worried. "We've done enough here. Come on, let's go." Potter began jogging quickly away. After another short glare, Weasel followed him, effectively dropping Draco to the ground.
Draco was fading, and fast, when the footsteps stopped in front of his crumpled form. Thank god, rescue! Blinking his groggy eyes open (wow that headache was really getting bad) Draco looked up at his savior hopefully, only to find…
"Didn't I tell you that if you hurt her you'd have to answer for it?" she said quietly but dangerously.
"Acshlly, you said f'I hurt her they wudn be abull t'fin all the pieces of my body." Ah, incoherency, great.
"Right you are, Malfoy. Well looks like you hurt her. Karma's a bitch, isn't it?" The Weaslette nodded smugly, turned around, and left the way she came.
Now Draco was left alone in the corridor, in serious need of medical attention and no one to keep his headache from overwhelming him.
Well this figures. I've been in worse condition, yeah, but usually there's someone around to make sure I don't bleed to death internally. Great.
Wait, wasn't I supposed to be doing something important? Yeah, it was, like, vital. But what was it? And why is everything getting all bright and white? Oh, fuck, I think I'm gonna be sick.
And with that last thought, Draco passed out.
000000000
Hermione's eyes opened and she felt an unfamiliar kind of pounding in her shoulder. She was similarly aware that her friends were all sitting around her bed, despite the obvious late hour, and they were speaking in hushed voices.
"Hey there."
All eyes were suddenly on Hermione and she wasn't sure what to say.
Ginny spoke first, through the silence. It was obvious they had been talking about her. "'Mione, you're awake! How are you feeling?"
She tried to shrug, but found her muscles were not in much of a mood to be ordered around. She winced. "I've been better, I've been worse—I'll survive. And how many times have I told you not to call me that?"
Ron chuckled. "Enough that we've stopped listening."
A short second passed where Hermione simply looked at her friends—and realized there was something off. She knew them well enough to sense when something was amiss, and Harry might as well have had a neon sign above his head saying "I'M CONFLICTED."
Suddenly, Madam Promfrey was bustling through the curtain, exclaiming something about changing a bandage. As the woman's hand neared Hermione's shoulder, she thought to ask the extent of her injuries.
"Well, dear, from what the Headmistress tells me, you were actually lucky. Mister Malfoy fired many more Dark spells than just the one that hit its mark. Your shield must have been fairly powerful. Despite all that, I think you'll be fine. These cuts won't heal with regular magic, so we'll just keep giving you some potions that will help the skin grow back." She lifted the last of the bandage to reveal a swollen, red lash about half an inch wide and maybe an inch deep. It really looked gruesome. It was starting to ooze a greenish-yellow pus. The Nurse tutted and gave Hermione a potion to drink. It was foul, but if it was supposed to work…
Hermione continued to wince and pull away as the Nurse tried to clean the wound. "Hold still, Miss Granger, or this is just going to be a longer and more painful process," she sighed.
Trying not to move, she grabbed the closest thing—Harry's offered hand—and squeezed with every painful dab, funneling her discomfort into the motion.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, Madam Promfrey had finished applying a sticky white salve and re-bandaging her shoulder. Then it was onto her cheek, where the same process was undertaken.
The moment the nurse was done, Hermione asked how long she would have to stay in the Hospital Wing.
"Well, I'll want to keep re-bandaging those two or three times every day until the skin heals over. The one on your cheek should only take a few days to smooth over, since it's a much less severe cut, but your shoulder…" She paused to think, while Hermione looked at her hopefully. She would hate to have to miss classes because of this. Then again, she would have to go back to her dorm and face Malfoy—Draco?—him as well, which she wasn't too keen on doing.
Madam Promfrey was speaking again. "I'm going to keep you here overnight, just to make sure there are no other side effects of this curse. Other than that, I'll allow you to go to all your classes and sleep in your dorm, as long as you check in with me before breakfast and after dinner."
Hermione sighed both with relief and anxiety. "Thank you, Madam Prompfry. I really appreciate your letting me have that freedom."
The woman nodded. "Of course, there's no reason not to in your case. Unlike some younger students, I have faith you will not be foolish enough as to harm yourself more, though I do ask that you not strain your shoulder."
"Of course, not a problem," and the nurse left, with a word of warning to the other three that they should go to bed soon.
Ron broke the silence first. "Hear that, Hermione? No straining your shoulder. It's gonna be difficult scribbling down feet of notes with your arm in a sling, huh?" There were amused smiles all around, and they spoke quietly and normally enough for a few minutes, but Hermione just wanted to get down to the meat of it.
"So what happened?"
Harry responded far too quickly. "What happened where?"
"I mean, after Ginny and McGonagall took me here—I'm guessing you didn't get your duel, then, Gin?"
She frowned. "No, that I didn't. But besides the fact that he was disqualified anyway, or so I hear, apparently," and there was a bite to her voice here, "someone beat me to it." Her eyes locked with Harry's, and Hermione was surprised to find even Ron knew what they were talking about. But she didn't.
"Um…what? Who beat you to what?"
"Nothing." Harry's response again was almost immediate. They were covering something, she knew it. So Hermione said so.
Ron's response was "no we aren't," but Ginny was on the ball the next second.
"Well he was asking for it anyway."
For a moment, Hermione just stared, not exactly sure what she was referring to…and then it began to dawn on her.
"No—you—he didn't—you wouldn't—what did you do?"
Ginny replied coolly, "Well, I didn't do anything, but I would have if I'd gotten the chance, so I guess I'm just as guilty."
"For what?—what did you do!?"
Ron piped up this time. "Look, he deserved it, he even said so himself. I mean, 'Mione, he used Dark magic on you! If you hadn't noticed there's a gash about six inches long on your shoulder! He got what was coming to him!"
But now she was really fuming, if only because they weren't being direct with her. She propped herself up as best she could with one arm, ignoring the sizzling pain in her shoulder. Outwardly she seemed to grow, her eyes piercing the most malleable thing she could find.
"What did you do to him?"
Harry's mouth opened and closed, as he looked at her guiltily, unable to break the gaze. Finally he said, "we...well, that is Ron and I…we sort of…found him and…beat him up."
"WHAT?!"
"It's really not as bad as you think, though. I mean we stopped before anything—"
"No" she said quietly, cutting over him. "Haven't you learned anything from last year? ANY of you? Has violence ever really solved your problems? Does it actually ever help?"
"Well, no, but it felt bloody good," Ron said.
"Shut up, Ronald. Actually, get out, all of you."
"'Mione, what's up with you? We just got your revenge for you!" Ginny interjected, astonished.
"Well maybe I didn't want revenge in the first place, ever think of that? Now it's late, I think you should probably get going, hmmmm?"
They all rose, but Harry paused, looking guilty. "I'm sorry Hermione. I should be beyond this."
"You should," she responded, but her voice softened noticeably. At least he seemed to feel some remorse. That was more than she could say for the Weasley siblings.
At length, they all departed, leaving Hermione confused and ambivilant. On one hand she understood that the boys were very overprotective of her, especially the always-loyal-except-for-twice-in-their-lives Ronald. But on the other hand, how could they stoop to that level? Not even dueling him, just beating Dr—Ma—him up? On the one hand, Hermione was feeling a lot of things toward the Slytherin right now, not the least of which was anger, confusion, and even some fear, she almost refused to admit. She had never seen him like that, and it scared her…though for what reason…and on the other hand, she had seen him like that, and it was like he wasn't even himself anymore, which fell to question what the FUCK had happened out on that platform.
And then…wait, what am I doing talking to myself? If they hurt him, and he's not here…do the math!...that means no one's found him yet and he could still be hurt. Hermione was literally drawing breath to call the Nurse over when she paused. If I tell her that, she'll want to know how I know. Since I've been here the whole time, she could obviously assume that Harry, Ginny, and Ron told me, and she would therefore assume they were responsible…which they are. But that would be a very serious accusation, and at the very least Harry and Ron would get in big trouble. So, do I tell her and make sure that Draco—Malfoy—WHATEVER!—he's ok, and let my friends take the fall, or do I protect them even if it hurts him. He did do some serious damage to me, but does that mean he deserves to be ignored if I could do something to help him? After all, Harry and Ron did break the rules, but they were only giving him what they thought he deserved…
Hermione sighed, head full of right and wrong. Who was she to sit back and laugh while someone was hurt, no matter her history with said person?
"Madam Promfrey?" she called.
"Yes, dear?" a voice rang from the office.
Hermione took a deep breath, preparing to betray her friends, when the door burst open. A group of fifth year Slytherin girls ran in, all speaking at once. The nurse came out into the room and Hermione watched the exchange.
"Please, please, calm yourselves! What's the problem?"
One girl with curly blonde hair spoke up immediately. "It's Malfoy, Madam Promfrey! We just found him downstairs knocked out. He didn't seem to be in such good shape, either."
Madam Promfrey straightened up. "Very well—is anyone with him?"
"Yes, we left Greta there, just in case he woke up."
"Good, good. I will take care of this, Miss Moore," she said, already on her way out the door. The other girls followed behind her. "You can collect your friend, and then head back to your dormitory. Now where did you say Mr. Malfoy was?"
And Hermione was alone again. She sighed. Well, I guess that solved itself, at least.
About fifteen minutes later the doors opened once again and Dracos' body floated in, seemingly of its own accord, until Hermione saw Madam Promfrey holding up her wand, levitating him to the bed nearest the entrance. The Nurse looked over to Hermione's bed, before closing the curtain, closing the bed off from her view.
Over the next half hour, the only indication that anyone else was in the room were the few vials flying through the air toward Draco's bed, as well as some soft murmuring every once in a while. Otherwise, it was quiet, and as worried about Draco as she was (though she really wasn't sure whether she ought to be) Hermione found she was dozing. It was almost midnight, after all, and she'd had a long day.
It must have been a few hours later when she woke again. It wasn't clear why she had, though Hermione had a feeling it might have been a nightmare, the kind that slip away the moment your eyes open, but suddenly she was wide awake, practically jumping out of bed to run to the nearest human being.
Pain seared through her shoulder when she put weight on it and that gave her pause. Leaning back in the bed, she thought. What was I going to do? Run over to Draco's bed and asked to be comforted? Knowing me, the nightmare was probably about him, even though I can't recall it.
And yet, she found herself rising again anyway, at the very least wanting to get the preliminaries over with. Despite the range of emotions warring in her head, Hermione knew logically it was better to hash this out now, when they were alone, than later when things could become messier.
Approaching his bed, she pulled back the curtain and was unsurprised to find him awake, propped up in his bed, staring off into space. His gaze focused on her, however, when she stepped forward.
"Hermione…"
She quickly waved her hand and cast a Silencing charm, keeping outsiders from hearing their conversation.
He seemed to be lost for words, but struggled to sit further upright. She saw him wince.
Despite the little light available, she spotted a chair next to his bed and placed herself in it slowly, careful not to jostle her arm.
They stared at each other for an indefinite amount of time. Hermione wasn't sure what to feel about the man lying before her. They had shared so much with each other, she felt very strongly for him, she thought she could trust him—but then he had done something like this, physically hurt her, lashed out against her, and that made her angry and upset and frightened.
But a second later the light cloud cover that had been in the sky fell away and the starlight filtered through the window, and Hermione spotted the black ring around his left eye, as well as the bruises on his jaw.
And to think, Hermione's best friends had done this to him.
"What did they do?" she said before she could stop herself.
Draco seemed surprised at her admission of Harry's and Ron's actions. Still he was speechless, but instead he reached for the buttons on his pajamas. For a moment, Hermione was perplexed by his actions, but as his torso was revealed to her in the very dim light, she caught sight of his shoulders, chest, and eventually his stomach, which were covered in dark patches, more noticeable against his pale skin. A small gasp passed her lips.
"Pinned me against a wall and everything," he finally said. "Back of my head's pretty sore, too—hit it on the wall."
Hermione closed her eyes, anger bubbling up behind them. How could they? Yeah, Draco was a crazy, dangerous git who had hurt her, but that didn't mean they had any right…
Unable to stop herself, Hermione moved to sit on the edge of the bed, reaching out a hand to trace the edge of the bruise on his eye, moving to his cheek, his shoulder—she touched each of the marks on his torso, heart softening as she passed each.
As she reached the last, he took her wrist and hand, gently, and moved it away. "And you?" he murmured.
His own hands reached for the bandage on her shoulder and began to peel away the tape, and then the gauze. Hermione gasped, stifling a groan. It seemed the gauze had sealed itself to the salve on the wound, and therefore the wound itself. Her hands gripped the sheets as he slowly pulled it away, tearing some of the new skin that had begun to grow.
She heard his own intake of breath as the slash was revealed to him. It really was quite gruesome, even in the darkness. His finger brushed the skin close to her wound, the same way hers had.
"I'm sorry"
And all the anger came rushing back. He was the one who had done this to her, after all.
She grabbed his outstretched wrist hard, her own gaze piercing his.
"Why?"
He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again, carefully laying the gauze back on top of her shoulder. Hermione let go of his wrist to re-apply the tape, moving back to her chair, wanting some distance.
"I was remembering."
Oh, yeah, because that makes a lot of sense. Thanks for being so clear, Malfoy, she thought sarcastically. What she said out loud was: "what do you mean?"
"In the middle of our duel—it was something you said—it reminded me of something that happened last year. But instead of just remembering it, it was like I was really there. I was reliving it."
Hermione sighed, frustrated. "But what does that have to do with you cursing me?" she responded, stressing the word in order to remind him of what he had done. Part of Hermione wanted him to feel pain for his actions.
"In the memory, I was fighting Bellatrix as part of my 'training'." Hermione could hear the contempt in his voice. "She was goading me, so I lashed out. But I was totally involved in the memory, I didn't realize I was actually casting those curses in real life."
Hermione paused, trying to wrap her head around his explanation, wondering if it was plausible. "So…" she said slowly, "you were…hallucinating?"
"You could call it that."
For a moment, she was about to refute it, say that things like that didn't happen, that he must be lying, covering up his real motives. But then she remembered sitting at another's bedside—sitting next to Harry as he sweated and dreamed. She remembered him opening his eyes and laughing maniacally and saying the Killing Curse before falling back into his fitful slumber. It had scared her half to death.
As had this
So it was possible.
Hermione shook her head, washing away the remnants of her sleepiness. They were starting to get to the heart of the matter. Straightening her back, she spoke again. "But I don't get it—why?"
0
Draco felt like he had been pulled out of the night-induced trance he had been under, and a shadow passed over his face. This was the part he didn't want to talk about. "It was nothing," he answered briskly. "I was tired, and you were very difficult to beat. I was a little dazed, and I guess—"
"Oh, come on, Draco, don't give me that." She raised one eyebrow. "People don't have delusions in the middle of dueling matches because of stress. Be honest with me." She gave him a pointed stare.
What harm would it do? "Alright, alright," he relented. "You remember that guy I was dueling before you, Nichols?"
"7th year Slytherin, yes, I do."
"Well, apparently he's a revenge case."
He didn't elaborate. "A what?"
"He was out for revenge. It was his mom. We—well, she was killed by a group of Death Eaters."
"Oh no." There was a look of genuine concern and apathy on her face.
"Yeah." Draco was somewhat taken aback by her obvious compassion for someone she didn't even know. "Well, since I'm the only one of them he could get his hands on, he's aimed all his anger and grief toward me. Not a pretty sight." She didn't need to know the whole truth, after all.
"So, what, he yelled at you, and that was enough to push you over the edge later?"
"It just shook me, is all. I wasn't expecting it. And then fifteen minutes later I was fighting you."
She sighed, seeming frustrated. "Look, Draco, I know you're keeping something from me. Why can't you just trust me enough to tell me what really happened? What was it? Did you know her or something?"
No, Draco wanted to say. The lie was pushing its way past his throat when he looked at her, confusion etched across her features. And he didn't want to lie anymore.
"Yes."
Hermione didn't say anything for a long time. She was waiting for him, but he didn't want to go any farther than that. His head was starting to ache again.
"What, was she your mother's friend? Did you know her from when you were little? Was she—"
But this was just too much, she was pushing too hard, and the fury began to boil over his limit. Throwing his legs over the edge of the hospital bed, ignoring his body's protests, he sat upright, staring her straight in the face.
"I watched her die, alright?!" Hermione froze, mid-sentence. "They tortured her over and over again and I did nothing, nothing, even though she was looking straight at me, searching for a modicum of compassion. And I just stood there while they…" Draco paused, closing his eyes, fists clenching on the mattress. "We—we killed her. We tortured her to the brink of insanity and we heard her scream for mercy. I keep saying they, but I was there, I was one of them. I cast my share of the curse. I could have done something, I could have stopped them any time, at any of those houses, and I didn't. I helped them, I was one of them."
"Draco…" she murmured when he paused for breath. But he wouldn't let her.
"No, Hermione, don't you see? I swore so many times I would never hurt someone like that again, but I did—I hurt you. I don't want to hurt you again. Please," and Draco was reminded of that day on the Astronomy tower where he had thrown the vases, and then he had tried to push her away, and it hadn't worked. "Just go."
She did.
0
Hermione walked as quickly as she could back to her Hospital Bed, but even that could not keep away her tears.
Hermione didn't like crying. She had never done much of it since making real friends in 1st year, and she had never really felt like the type to cry. She was much too levelheaded and strong to act so emotional.
But here she was, wrapped up in the thin hospital bed blankets, curled into a fetal position, tears quietly streaming down the side of her face to collect in a warm puddle next to her left temple.
She cried for Max Nichols and his mother, and all the same cases. It wasn't fair, what those people did. She cried for the endless body count at the end of the war, magical or not, because some psycho had ego issues. She cried for all the pain and suffering those now dead had had to go through before getting that way. She cried for those still in mourning.
And she really sobbed for Draco. He was so tortured by all that he had done. It was like seeing an entirely different side of him. She sobbed for what he had gone through and what he was still going through. She sobbed for the marred soul of a boy that, in the right hands, could have been whole. She sobbed for the fact that, despite everything being forced on him, Draco continued to blame himself for what had occurred.
But that's just it: it was past. Her sobs began to quiet as she thought about this important factor. Whatever had happened had already happened, and there was nothing either of them could do to solve it. Yet, at this rate, Draco would never confront the present problem, which was his refusal to trust, open up, and let go, and so would keep his rage and confusion bottled up until it killed him.
If only she could convince him that he was no monster, that he was worth saving, that he had a future outside of his past. Then maybe he had a chance. Then maybe they would have a chance, too.
Do you hate me for not updating? That's alright, I would hate me, too. I really have no excuse now, except that with AP Latin, volleyball practices/games every day, and lots of new plot bunnies in my head, I've been finding it hard to think of anything to say! Which is weird, for me. Also, Margot hasn't been helping my concentration any.
However, this chapter, is dedicated to my lovely, beautiful, incredible, seductive, strong, hilarious Margot anyway, just because. Check her out:
.net/u/1424597/Margot_Gentry
I could not have written this chapter without her. Gosh, Margot, I love you, you damned minx! Heaven knows you're the only witch for me. You got a problem with that, people? THAT'S WHAT I THOUGHT. See? I'm very chivalrous. I will defend my witch with every fiber of my being and every word in my vocabulary. HA!
So: RANDOM FACT, PEOPLE! And tell me what you thought, what you want for the story, what all your little hearts desire of me, and I will gladly give it (or at least consider it ^-^).
-Ginger
