A Holiday Gone Wrong
Written by: JuliaFC
Beta-read by: Daily Prophet Reporter (2004), Mystic Raven20 and Audrey414 (2023)
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, nor Draco Malfoy. Damn for the latter!
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Author's note: I started writing this fic in 2003-4 as I lay in a hospital bed in pain. My illness was quite common, or so the doctors said, so I thought, why can't a Harry Potter character get it? I thought of Hermione, and the fic was born. ;). It should have been a much longer fic, but I can't remember what I wanted to happen in it, so I decided to revise what I already had, add a new ending, and post it like this. I hope you'll like it!
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Pain. It was all she could feel—pain to the centre of her back, growing from her kidneys and going up to her shoulders. Pain that reached the top of her neck and ran to her core again. A grip that left her gasping for air held her stomach; shooting pains and cramps hurt all over her body. How could pain as intense as this even exist?
Hermione blinked, and when she opened her eyes, she was in darkness. She saw the light from the corridors outside and a faint glow from a safety light inside the room. Of course, it was still late at night; damn! Why did time pass so slowly?
She moved, trying to find a better position, but it was useless. As she moved to the left, the pain moved to the left; if she moved to the right, the pain followed her again. No position would give her relief—nothing. She couldn't breathe because of the pain but could do nothing to soothe it. When she woke up a few minutes before, she tried calling a nurse and asking for a painkiller, but the woman shook her head and left.
Tears popped in her eyes and fell down her cheeks. She felt hot and sticky, her hair glued to her scalp, the sweat pumping out of her and making her extremely uncomfortable, stuck as she was on a bed.
She hated hot weather. Rome was like a furnace at that time of the year. Italy—and Rome in particular—was a country that had terrific art and monuments. It had an ancient history, which she could feel as she walked around the streets. She loved this feeling; she had loved exploring the over 300 churches, marvelling at the beautiful sculptures and paintings, the fountains, the friendliness of the people, and the delicious food.
But it was hot. Hermione had never felt this warm in her entire life. The nurses insisted on keeping a bedcover on top of the bedsheets, but if it were for her, she would've slept only in her nightgown. She wished to use her wand to perform an easy spell and cool herself down, but she knew she couldn't. Not only was the Ministry tracking her wand for underage use outside Hogwarts, but she didn't even have it with her. Her father had thought that it wasn't something that she could bring with her to a hospital. She pursed her lips and winced in disgust—they were covered in sweat beads. Unable to resist the urge, she passed the back of her hand on her mouth and eyes to wipe them dry.
This gesture created another problem—her eyes burned like fire. Hermione suspected it might be her tears. They weren't regular tears but sticky and glue-like and smelled like medicine. It must've been that sleeping tablet. She had fought hard to get it, as the nurses didn't want to give her things the doctors hadn't prescribed. She understood their reasons but wanted to sleep and forget her pain. Then, the doctors had granted permission last night, but the tablet hadn't been helpful. How long since the nurse gave it to her? A few minutes? One hour? She didn't know.
She used her bedcovers to fan her face and took a deep breath, trying to hold air in her lungs as long as possible and relax, but her attempts failed. She started to breathe again, the pain not dimming but increasing every time. She wanted to tear her back from her body and put it somewhere until someone, possibly a doctor, took her pain away!
She doubted her recovery would be quick. She had been lying on that hospital bed for three days, and the doctors hadn't done much. At first, they thought she might have an ulcer, but after further checks, they discovered the problem in her gallbladder. Her backache was referred pain from her pancreas.
It took them a whole day to come up with that diagnosis—Hermione had cursed her bad luck. She knew that St Mungo's would've taken much less time. But she also knew that the Muggle doctors were doing their best with the technology they had. They told her she had to have her gallbladder removed; however, she had to get better before they could do that, and it would take time.
'But don't worry; you're young, it won't take you too long,' a black-haired doctor had said. He reminded her of Harry because of his unruly and dark hair.
Harry and Ron; she missed her friends so much. She missed her books, Crookshanks and Hogwarts. She sighed and tried revising 'Hogwarts—A History' in her head. Maybe thinking of something else, she'd forget about the spasms. Sadly, she couldn't remember even the smallest part of it; her mind was blank.
She felt her head filling with cotton and thought the sleeping tablet might be working. Thank goodness, at last! Slowly, her mind cleared, and she started to relax, the pain decreasing.
It was so quiet and silent.
Too silent.
Too quiet.
A few moments before, she heard the snores from the other women sleeping in the room, the noises of the nurses checking patients, and the groans of a woman somewhere who cried for 'Francesca' all night and day.
Now, suddenly, no sound other than her heartbeat filled the room. It was strange, almost abnormal. Like—a spell?
No, it couldn't be!
She tried to move again, seeking a comfortable position, but every movement worsened her discomfort. The pain from the centre of her back wasn't decreasing. She tried to flip her body to the right, but the pain worsened, and her stomach hurt. Trickles of sweat ran down her temples and cheeks.
Hadn't she already mentioned that she hated that hot weather?
Pain distorted her face as she lay on her back again until her eyes met the cold and icy stare of two pale eyes looking at her with contempt.
Hermione's heart stopped. Her pain forgotten as adrenaline rushed all over her body, her eyes widened in horror. The boy's smirk grew wider.
'I'm flattered, Granger, what a reaction!' Draco Malfoy drawled.
Frantically, Hermione switched her body to the centre of her bed. She groaned, closed her eyes, and squeezed them, counting up to ten. She opened her eyes again and repeated her gimmick once more.
Malfoy was still there; his smirk softened, becoming a stiff smile. Her childish attempt to see if it was a hallucination only brought tears to her eyes, causing Draco's face to dance among her tears in the dusk. Her eyes burned.
'Granger, you can open and close your eyes even a hundred times; I won't disappear,' he said. 'Should I assume that you dream of me frequently?'
'Wha—' Hermione said, but her voice resonated in her head, giving her a terrible headache. Instinctively, her hand held the button to call the nurses, and Malfoy's smile grew wider.
'I'm afraid it's useless. Did you think I, Draco Malofy, would ever go into the female side of a Muggle hospital at night and not take precautions?' His pale eyes were staring at her in amusement.
'These people … are … ill …' Hermione tried to say. Each word sent shooting pain through the sides of her head, but she had to speak her mind.
A vein near her temple started to pulse, and she felt sweat damping her face. The tightness in her stomach was increasing its hold, and the pain in her back was driving her insane. She knew that, soon, the pain would become impossible to bear without a further dose of painkillers. Yet, she clenched her teeth; she didn't want Malfoy to see her crying. What was he doing there? She was getting more and more worried.
She didn't even have her wand! And even if she'd had it, Hermione doubted she had the strength to perform the most straightforward spell. This acknowledgement increased her panic, spreading all over her body, mixing with the shooting pain from her back and stomach, the discomfort from the heat and a nasty headache torturing her.
Her mind sped up; there was something that she didn't understand. Draco had cast a spell to make all the hospital sleep. So, why did she wake up? Maybe it was a sixth sense? Or maybe Draco wanted her to be awake? Why? To kill her, he would've had a much easier job if she slept.
What would become of her? What would become of all the poor patients who rested in the hospital, unaware of the danger they were incurring that night?
'I know I'm the last person you wanted to see.' Malfoy held his elbows over her mattress and his chin over his hands, staring straight into her eyes. 'And don't worry. They're only sleeping; I haven't killed anyone,' he whispered. Then he sneered and finished, '…yet.'
Hermione's forehead tensed into a frown. She knew he had caught her tension—his smirk proved it. A smirk that widened as he stood and walked away from her bed, his gaze never losing track of her, bearing into her very soul.
'It would be easy.' He stepped close to a lady sleeping in the bed before hers. She must've fallen asleep because of Malfoy's spell, as she had spent all night until then groaning in pain.
Hermione's panic increased. Why was Malfoy there? What did he want?
Yes, it would be easy. If Malfoy wanted, he could've staged a massacre with a flick of his wand, and nobody would know until the following day. She tried to focus, but the sleeping pill finally worked, making her dizzy. The lack of her wand was becoming a bigger problem any minute that passed.
Damn! We're all in danger, patients, nurses—everybody! And it's all my fault. New tears clouded her sight. She wiped her eyes with her wrist until she saw again Draco's golden hair shining like a silver halo in the moonlight. A halo—the irony of her thought made her chuckle. He was staring at her from the other side of the room, beside the window, enjoying her panic and anxious breathing.
'It really would be,' he continued. He took his wand out of his pocket and smiled at Hermione, whose face was ashen. 'Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoy, a convicted criminal; Slytherin. Death Eater, right?' he drawled.
Hermione's panic escalated—or better, ballooned—into terror; her breath quickened so much that she felt lightheaded and wanted to puke. Spasms also swept all over her body.
'Like father like son, right?' Malfoy continued. He uncovered the lady before him with a wand wave and stared at the sleeping figure, a grimace of disgust on his face. 'A dangerous wizard whose father is now a prisoner at Azkaban….' His frown and voice had turned even harder and creepier at these words. His gaze reached Hermione again, staring at her for a while.
'The Dark Lord would be proud of me if I killed so many Muggles at once and a Mudblood so dear to Potter. It would be the best greeting card for my entrance into the Death Eaters. The Dark Lord would reserve me an honoured place in his circle of friends.' Nothing had happened yet. Malfoy didn't look at her anymore but was staring out the window. Hermione knew the view was spectacular from what her relatives had told her. 'My father would be proud of me,' continued Malfoy, his voice almost softened.
Hermione's brain went into overdrive. There was something in the way he spoke, as if Malfoy only wanted to make fun of her and nothing more. He didn't sound serious. Maybe it was only wishful thinking, but she didn't think he was.
Yet, she couldn't relax; how could she relax, harmless before an armed wizard? And not just any wizard—Draco Malfoy! She still couldn't trust him not to kill her. Or blow up the hospital, maybe.
Her heartbeat decreased, though, and the change must have shown on her face because Malfoy smirked again and moved an arm, tossing the bedcover of the patient in front of him a little farther. Her heartbeat sped at the sight, and Malfoy shot her a triumphant look.
Of course, he's enjoying the power he holds against me. Hermione saw the blond boy moving away from the bed and from the window and returning to face her; she knew his pace was deliberately slow. Just to piss her off.
'Actually, I'm sure my father would be proud of me even if I only killed a Mudblood—especially you, Granger. Potty wouldn't be happy if I killed his little friend.'
'What are you waiting for, then?' she hissed as yet another spasm made her breathing more painful.
Malfoy smiled and left her side again. He strolled, clasping his hands behind his back and dragging his feet. His smile looked odd; the softer look didn't fit him. At least in Hermione's opinion. He returned to his position next to the window.
'You know what else would be funny? Which spell was that? Help me a moment, Granger, the one that Lockhart used so brilliantly on Potty's arm. At least that moron did one thing right.'
Hermione thought that she was going to vomit. No, he can't, she thought, holding her breath.
'Wouldn't it be funny if tomorrow those Muggle doctors found a pleasant surprise waiting for them?' He glanced at her mockingly. 'It would be strange, don't you think?'
Hermione's frown grew even harder. Malfoy chuckled and approached her bed again.
'Honestly, Granger, you're making this so amusing for me,' he said, drawling his words in a way that was starting to annoy her. He was so lucky that she was in pain and wandless. That cunning smile was still turning the edges of his lips up, and Hermione would've loved to slap it off his face. His wanded hand moved, but he didn't cast any spell. 'Alone, in a Muggle hospital, I could've destroyed everything and killed everybody with a few words and a flick of my wand. Why didn't I do that, Granger?'
Hermione shook her head. She didn't know. She didn't know if she wanted to know. Maybe Malfoy was waiting for another Death Eater to witness his 'heroic act'? Or perhaps he just wanted to tease her.
'I'm not here to kill you.'
She couldn't help it—she breathed a sigh of relief.
Draco smirked at that. 'Of course, if Potter were at your place, it would've been different.'
Hermione's frown returned.
Malfoy sighed and approached her bed again, resting his arms on her bed cover. 'You're only a Mudblood. Yet, you're not completely insignificant. You're not just a Mudblood, like any other. You're a Mudblood whom I want to be better than at school. It wouldn't be honourable if I killed you before our competition ends.'
'Honourable,' Hermione hissed between spasms.
Draco smiled again. 'That's what you Gryffindors think: all Slytherins are evil and dishonourable; all Slytherins will shake your hand to your face but stab you in the back.'
Hermione's gaze met Draco's; somehow, she knew he was telling the truth. She didn't know how she knew that, though. Maybe the pain was fogging her thoughts and influencing her. Perhaps it was the hot weather; she was sweating as she had never done.
'You Gryffindors should get it into your stupid and egocentric minds that this isn't true. Nothing is more honourable than a Pureblood wizard. If I say I won't harm you, you're safe.'
'But you won't say it.'
She won another genuine smile from Malfoy. 'If anyone asks, I'll deny having said this even under torture, but…you're exceptional, Granger. It's amazing how sharp your mind is, even in pain and in such weather….' He fanned himself with his right hand; only then did Hermione notice that Malfoy was sweating as much as she was. Then, he waved his wand and muttered, 'Refrigo.' The temperature decreased by a good ten degrees; Hermione breathed better.
'Next time I come, I'll wear a thinner robe,' Malfoy said. Hermione held her breath and looked at him, eyes wide: he wanted to return? Her heart sank at the news, and probably her face paled, or the change in her expression became too evident because Draco sneered. 'Why, you don't want me to visit anymore? I thought you'd be a better host; take me sightseeing...'
Her breathing slowed its pace. 'Why are you here?'
Draco's smile became brighter. 'To pay you a visit, of course.'
Hermione smirked, but Draco's smile didn't fade. 'You see, I was at the Malfoy Manor and was napping in a tree when an owl fell on my stomach.' He must've noticed that she blinked and had to muffle a chuckle because his smile faltered a little. 'I was going to fall from that tree, and if I'd done that, Weasel wouldn't have liked the shape I'd returned his owl in. If you call that thing an owl.'
Errol. Hermione finally understood—of course! She got ill the day after Harry's birthday. Her father told her he called Harry, asking the boy to tell Hogwarts that maybe Hermione couldn't catch the train on September 1st that year. Harry must've sent Hedwig to Dumbledore and Errol to Ron. Errol was old; he'd need more than a few hours to rest after carrying from Devon to Surrey the big package Hermione knew the Weasleys would send Harry for his birthday.
She believed Malfoy now.
'The owl seemed dead. I read the name on the envelope, the sender's name and that the message was urgent. Of course, I read it.'
'It wasn't a very honourable thing to do.' Hermione groaned, trying to move on her bed to find a better position. Now that her most urgent worry—Draco Malfoy—was over, her pain was slowly gaining back all her attention. Draco's spell had cooled the room, and she didn't feel hot anymore; that wasn't as comforting as she had thought.
Malfoy grabbed her shoulder, causing another surge of pain in her lower back. Hermione winced as the blond wizard glared at her. 'I've never said that I'm always honourable, Granger. Above all, I won't be when Potter is concerned!'
Hermione raised an eyebrow—she should've thought he'd reply that way. After all, Harry had forced Lucius to Azkaban and disgraced Draco's family name.
'True. Errol was alive, though.'
Draco sighed. 'I know. When I recognised the owl, I remembered how many times that thing arrived at Hogwarts and crashed on the Gryffindors' table, giving us Slytherins a reason to laugh.' He smirked at the memory and passed his left hand over the nape of his neck. 'The owl rested in the Malfoys' owlery for a few hours and then felt well enough to continue its trip. Don't worry, Granger; Weasel received that letter.… I wasn't going to take the heart attack away from him.' He chuckled. 'If Potter tries not to, he can worry you a lot. And you know better than me how easy Weasel is to fret.'
Hermione tried to chuckle at the thought, but her head seemed to explode from the pain; it hurt even more now than before. Besides, she felt as if someone had emptied her mind of everything and had filled it with cotton. She didn't know if this was the sleeping tablet's effect or Draco's spell. She only knew that she hadn't understood what he wanted.
'Do you want me to apologise for what Errol did?' she asked.
Malfoy choked a chuckle. 'Of course not—you're not Weasel.'
Why are you here then, Hermione wanted to ask. She pouted and took a big breath to spell it out, but Draco's curt look cut her off.
'You can't get it into that Mudblood's head of yours, huh? I came to see if Potter was right.' His gaze ran over her body. 'Seems that he was.'
Hermione finally relaxed. Yes, she still didn't know where all this confidence came from, but for some reason, she believed him.
'Thank you for your visit then. Even though you could choose a better hour,' she snapped.
Malfoy smirked. 'And missing out on the pleasure of teasing you and seeing you squirm?'
Now it was Hermione's turn to smirk. 'How did you come here? You're still underage; the Ministry's tracking your wand. Did you use a Portkey?'
'I can't believe you're asking this,' Malfoy drawled. Hermione found his quip rather annoying, but maybe she would've seen anything as irritating: her mind was too dizzy, and she couldn't think. She probably took too long to answer because Draco sighed. 'It seems that you don't know. You get this for being a Mudblood and hanging with people like Potter and Weasley.'
'How could you come here from London without Apparating, using a Portkey or Floo Powder?' she asked.
Malfoy blinked three times as if he were shocked by her words. Then, he sneered and bowed in front of her, his mocking smile still on his lips. 'I come from Wiltshire, Milady.' He drawled the last word a little too much for it not to be sarcastic. 'Once again, if you knew the Wizarding World better than from just reading books, you'd know the location of Malfoy Manor.'
'You haven't explained how you came here,' she pointed out. Yes, she knew where Malfoy Manor was. The Daily Prophet spoke about it in an interview with Lucius Malfoy last year. Damn headache, she couldn't think! 'And of course, you won't,' she finished saying. Draco nodded, and Hermione yawned. As she did that, the pain in her back multiplied.
Draco gazed at the other side of the room and looked pointedly at the window. Hermione followed his gaze, realising that the first streaks of dawn were now painting the previously dark sky with their violet and orange shades. Saint Peter's cupola, in the background, was still shining with artificial light, but most of the city lights had faded away.
Draco turned in Hermione's direction and stared at her hair, making her self-conscious of the mess she must've been in—her hair must be messier and bushier than ever since she felt it sticking to her scalp, damp with sweat. He glanced at her red eyes, sweaty face, and the IV cable in her hand.
'Gallstones, huh?' he said; Hermione nodded. 'Now that I can see how wonderful Muggle technology is, I can keep thanking Merlin that I'm a Pureblood wizard. One of my cousins had that and was out of St Mungo's in less than a week.'
'Well, I've been here only three days,' Hermione started to say, but she felt a new spasm growing from the centre of her back and groaned. How dare Malfoy say something that made so much sense for once? She was proud of her family, but she had to admit that, right now, she would have preferred to be in St. Mungo's.
'I know, but it doesn't look as if you're on your way to recovery.' He sighed and clasped his hands, a determined frown furrowing his brows. 'Okay. Let's get this done before I run out of time.'
'I didn't think your time was limited, Malfoy.' Hermione wondered what he wanted to get done and tried to hide her worries with a sassy remark, but her sassiness completely disappeared when Draco moved closer to her and removed her IV cable from the back of her hand with one swift movement. 'What—?'
'Shut up, Granger. Don't make me repent of what I'm doing.' As he said that, he lifted her bedsheets and grabbed her bridal style, wincing at the sweat damping her nightgown.
Panic vice gripped Hermione's stomach. 'What are you doing?' She started bumping her fists against his chest as he took a better hold of her and Disapparated with her.
She curled on his chest, her heart thumping in her ears, her eyes squeezed. No. What would it be of her? Was he going to bring her to Voldemort? To the Malfoy Manor and torture her? Keep her hostage? She was never going to see her mum and dad again, and—
'You can open your eyes now.' Malfoy was chuckling to himself, and when she did as she was told and looked around, she saw the reception of a place she had already seen—St Mungo's.
Her eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. How on Earth—?
'Not the place you expected, right?' He chuckled again when she shook her head. 'Did you really think I was going to leave you there?'
'Yeah—?' she muttered, her bewildered gaze still trying to come to terms with the fact that Draco Malfoy had abducted her, a Mudblood, and had brought her to the wizards' hospital.
'Good morning, Mr Malfoy; is this the girl?' said a voice from behind Hermione. She turned and saw a nurse looking at them from the Reception desk. She was a brunette of petite stature, with shiny grey eyes hidden behind thick glasses, and seemed reassuringly professional. Hermione felt Draco hum, and her eyes widened even more.
'Wait. So you had planned this?' Her face shot up to look at him, and her amazed gaze met Draco's amused one.
'Of course. I don't go to Muggle hospitals for sport, you know.'
'The doctors and nurses will panic when they don't find me.'
Draco laughed. 'I took care of that before coming to see you.'
Hermione's jaw dropped. What had Malfoy done precisely? Did he obliviate the entire hospital?
In a daze, she heard the nurse tell Draco to place her in a wheelchair, and even more confused, she heard a popping sound from behind Draco's back. A female elf appeared from where the popping sound came, all dressed in rags as usual, her hands wrapped in tight bandages.
'Mandy is sorry to disturb Master Malfoy without being summoned,' the creature said. 'When Mandy went home to iron her hands after transporting you and the girl here without the Mistress's permission, Mandy saw the Mistress waking up. She won't be happy not to find her wand in its place. Mandy will have to whip herself for days to soothe her guilt.'
Draco winced. 'Uh. That's my call, then. I'll see you later,' he told Hermione, nodding at her. The girl saw the elf get closer to Draco and snap her fingers, causing them to disappear.
She watched, wide-eyed and blank-headed, as the nurse wheeled the chair to a bed, her mind racing. That's how Malfoy had Apparated to Rome. He used a House Elf! And he used her again to get back to St Mungo's! The betrayal, using an Elf that way after all Hermione's hard work trying to protect their welfare! And did he use his mother's wand to perform the spells in Rome to avoid the Ministry tracking his use of magic out of Hogwarts?
That's why he made such a fuss about keeping it a secret. As grateful to him as Hermione was, she felt the urge to facepalm. Malfoy was always Malfoy.
'Can you walk a couple of steps, dear?' the witch asked, and Hermione's bubble burst. She looked around and then at the nurse as if she'd seen her for the first time, her mouth finally closing and reopening to talk.
'Uh, I don't know…'
The nurse had brought her to a private room, Hermione noted. In St. Mungo's, private rooms cost a fortune; Hermione knew that well; she had read the complaints of many wizards and witches in the Daily Prophet. 'Malfoy,' she muttered, finishing the sentence in her head—always the show-off.
'He will be back later; now it's not visiting time,' the nurse reassured her, probably misunderstanding her mentioning the boy's name as her wanting to see him rather than strangle him.
Hermione blinked—she didn't know if the news reassured or threatened her, but she wouldn't tell the nurse that much.
'What's your name, dear?'
As she attempted to stand up and failed miserably, falling back on the chair with a groan, Hermione realised she was much worse than she thought. And then, she realised that the nurse had asked her a question.
But first, she had a much more urgent problem. She didn't know if it was because of having Disapparated and Apparated so far away or if it was just a consequence of all the movement she had been doing after being still for so long; her mouth filled with saliva and her stomach churned, causing her to gag. She felt something heavy in her stomach that she needed to expel. She tried to warm her belly with her hand and to hold her breath, hoping the uneasiness would end, but all she obtained was to gag more.
She vomited something green.
Ugh—she hated vomiting, and although she felt a little better after throwing up, the burning in her throat made her eyes water. But she felt immense relief when the nurse murmured a spell in her ear, and warmth wrapped around her core.
'I'm Hermione Granger,' she finally managed to say, her voice hoarse.
The nurse smiled. 'Well, Miss Granger, it looks like you've got something wrong with your pancreas, right?'
Yes, she was in the best place. Maybe she could forgive Draco for using an Elf without the kind of respect the creature deserved—this once. After all, his intentions were commendable, and she should be happy with that. Slow and steady, they say.
Later, she would find a way to contact her mum, dad, Harry, and Ron to inform them of what happened, but now only one thing mattered.
She was going to be okay.
Surprisingly, thanks to one Draco Malfoy.
Fin
Author's Note
Hi all!
The draft of this story stayed on my computer for nearly two decades. Yes, you read well, two decades. As in 20 years. *Sighs* I thought I lost it and completely forgot about it. But recently, as you know, I found my old stories. I reread this and realised I had no idea what I wanted to happen next (I had stopped writing somewhere in the middle of the conversation between Hermione and Draco). So, I decided to reinvent the ending and finished it off to post it. I'm recently going through a major writer's block, so whatever I can finish off, and post is good to keep myself alive for you all. My other stories will come back as soon as I'm back feeling well with my head.
Please feel free to let me know what you think about it. I'm open to any kind of feedback! It's my first Dramione, so I'm curious if you liked it. Do click the review link and drop me a note: I promise I don't bite!
