41.

Harry turned up mid-morning, knocking on the half open door cautiously before coming in with a tentative smile, wearing a jersey and jeans, his greying hair as tousled as ever. Thankfully he hadn't caught them in flagrante; they'd just been talking, although that felt intimate enough for him to walk in on. Malfoy was explaining what had happened during Hermione's captivity, leaning his elbows on the bed, with her left hand folded up in his two and tucked under his chin. They disentangled quickly as Harry entered, a blush heating Hermione's cheeks, and Malfoy stood abruptly and moved back a few paces.

"Potter." He nodded a greeting at the shorter man, and Harry managed a slight, tight smile.

"Malfoy. Still here, I see." He managed to pack a wealth of disapproval into his voice, and Malfoy's expression tightened too, a shadow passing over his face before he blanked it.

"Harry! Don't start, please," Hermione said, glaring at him. "Leave Malfoy alone, and give me a hug." He did so very gently, kissing her cheek and then standing there, hands shoved in his pockets, glancing over his shoulder at Malfoy, whose features were unreadable and eyes cool, his arms crossed over his chest. Hermione didn't like that Malfoy immediately had to remove himself. She wanted him to be part of her life, not forced to the outskirts – an outsider, an interloper. Soon, she told herself. Soon Harry would just have to learn to put up with Malfoy at her side. But now was not the time.

"How are you feeling?" Harry's gaze searched her face. "That bruise still looks awful."

"Much better. Nearly human," she said with a smile. "And the bruise doesn't even hurt now. I forgot I had it."

"I didn't," Malfoy mumbled darkly, protectiveness heavy in his words, and both Harry and Hermione looked at him. "What?" he asked, scowling and defensive, all prickly, and Hermione suppressed a smile, her fingers running lightly over the bruise in question.

"Anyway," Harry said, dismissing Malfoy with a shrug, "Ron and Molly are bringing Rose and Hugo to visit in about ten minutes. We've told them that you were poisoned by Caritas Usbourne, by the way, but not the rest of it. They don't know about the kidnapping. We've let them assume he broke out of Azkaban and ambushed you at home. That he forced you to drink the poison before you managed to gain the upper hand and he was killed, and you disapparated to St Mungo's." Hermione nodded. She wasn't comfortable lying to the children, but telling them the whole truth seemed more traumatic than needed, particularly for Hugo.

"Thanks, Harry."

"Anyway, I'm here as your friendly early warning system. I figured Malfoy might want to make himself scarce before they all get here. Go home and get some sleep, perhaps." He shot Malfoy another look, taking in the dark circles under his eyes. "Have you even slept since Wednesday?"

"Last night. I napped," Malfoy said shortly. "And I hardly need you fussing over my sleeping habits, Potter. You're not my nursemaid, thank Merlin."

Hermione remembered something, grinning at Harry. "Oh! Did you put a sleeping potion in his coffee?"

Malfoy narrowed his eyes. "Yes. Did you, Potter?"

"I can neither confirm nor deny," Harry said with his back to Malfoy as he dropped a wink at Hermione, who had to press her lips together hard to avoid smiling and giving him away. She wasn't sure it worked. Malfoy sighed heavily, as if frustrated by the pair of them.

"Whatever. I suppose I'll head off now then. I'll come back this afternoon if you want, Granger?" He tried for indifferent but Hermione heard the uncertainty in his voice, as if he was afraid she'd tell him not to bother coming back in, and he wanted to, desperately.

"Yes. Please. I don't imagine the children will stay for more than a couple of hours, so any time after 1pm should be safe. Although you don't have to come in that early," she hastened to add, ignoring the distaste and discomfort on Harry's face as he listened to them plan. "Harry's right. You should get some sleep, first."

"Mm," Malfoy said, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, and Hermione sighed inwardly, knowing there was no point in insisting. He was proving more stubborn than she was. "We'll see. But I'll be back by four at the latest."

"Come here," she said, holding out a hand, heedless of Harry. Both men shot her an uncomfortable glance, but Harry shuffled back a few steps and Malfoy went to her, both of them obedient. She seized his shirt by the front and yanked him down as he stared at her with cautious, smoke-hazy eyes, hand bracing himself on the pillows by her head. "It's only Harry," she said, smiling, "and I want a kiss goodbye."

Malfoy smirked. "Like I'd kiss my mother, or...?"

"Like you'd kiss me in front of Harry," she said softly, and in hindsight probably should've expected what happened next as Malfoy's smirk turned roguish. His hand slid behind her neck, thumb at the pulse of her throat as he pushed his parted lips soft and searching to hers, mouth opening as though he were drinking from her, his tongue just barely tasting her, slicking over hers fleetingly. Her hand tightened in his shirt and she had to repress a whimper, toes curling as she instinctively deepened the kiss. Harry made a disgusted sound and both of them ignored him for a few heartbeats longer.

Then Malfoy pulled away, a hint of a smile on his lips, dragging his thumb over hers as her heart raced wildly, her breath coming short. "I'll see you later, Granger. Maybe I'll be able to sneak you in some food."

The family arrived only a few minutes later; a short enough time that Hermione felt a bolt of adrenaline. What if they'd tumbled into the room while she was kissing Malfoy? This was why she had the damned rules, she thought; otherwise she behaved like a hormonal teenager unable to keep her hands off him. Harry had perched himself at the end of the bed by her feet and had only just finished grumbling half-heartedly about how gross their kiss had been, when the door flung open, bouncing off the wall with a crash.

"Mum!" Hugo was a skinny ball of energy, his curly brown hair wild and knitted jersey obviously on back to front and inside out as he launched himself at her, scrambling half onto the bed and her stomach, to crush her in a hug. Hermione hid the wince of pain his enthusiastic embrace was causing and kissed his head, squeezing him back, just glad to see him. It had been weeks since she'd last seen him, and she'd missed him terribly.

"Careful Hugo," Molly said as she followed Hugo into the room, accompanied by Ron, but with Rose nowhere in sight. "Your mother's not well. Give her a chance to breathe, dear."

"Sorry, mum," Hugo muttered, slithering off the bed as Molly bustled forward to give Hermione a very gentle, motherly embrace that made tears prickle at Hermione's eyes. She missed her own mum but Molly had always been a lovely substitute – and now she was losing her as a mother-in-law. The witch beamed a bolstering smile at Hermione; hair nearly all grey now, in a neat, flowery dress and warm coat, her almost omnipresent apron left at home.

"It's alright, darling, but Gran's right. That was a bit squashy. And put your jersey on the right way," Hermione bid him, before smiling at Ron's mother. "Hi, Molly."

"You poor dear. You look worn out. How are you feeling?" Molly asked, taking in Hermione with a brisk look, tsking at the state of her.

"Much better, actually. Just tired, and sore. I'm ready to go home, honestly."

"Well, the Healers know best, dear. They'll send you home when the time is right, and not a minute sooner." Molly patted Hermione's hand. "You know, if you need somewhere to stay other than home when you get out, you're always welcome at the Burrow. Always, dear." Molly glared at Ron and lowered her voice so Hugo – who was chatting to Harry excitedly – couldn't hear. "I know you and Ron aren't, well...and it is a terrible shame. But you'll always be a member of the family as far as I'm concerned. You were before you and Ron took up, and that's not going to change. If you want to come and stay until you're back on your feet you can take Ron's room, and he can go stay with that young slut he's taken up with."

Molly Weasley matter-of-factly calling poor Chastity a slut was both shocking and glorious, and Hermione had to hold in a slightly hysterical cackle, as Ron watched his wife and his mother nervously. And if not for that, the rest of Molly's words would've had Hermione in tears. Somehow the motherly woman had said exactly what she needed to hear right now, as if she'd known. Hermione smiled and blinked back the shimmer of tears in her eyes.

"Thank you so much, Molly. But I think my dad might take offence if I don't stay with him," Hermione said diplomatically, although in fact she planned on going home to her own bed, and her own space, ideally. But that would've just been an outright rejection of Molly, and what she'd said had been the right answer, it seemed, because Molly immediately nodded with understanding.

'Of course, dear, of course. And speaking of fathers, Arthur sends his love. By the way – since we couldn't have your birthday dinner and we haven't seen you since, I still have your birthday present at home! I'll have it owled to your dad's, shall I?"

Oh dear; that wasn't ideal if she wasn't actually planning on being there. Well, Hermione's father wasn't unused to receiving post by owl, mostly from the children. She'd probably visit him as soon as she was out of St Mungo's, so if Molly had already sent it, she could pick it up, or tell him to expect it. "That would be lovely, Molly. Thank you. Really. I hear you were instrumental in helping Ron keep his head this past week."

"Well, you know what men are like, dear. Headless chickens in an emergency. All three of them –" three? Hermione thought as Molly went on "– basically living in the Auror offices even though there was nothing they could do. Just getting in the way probably –"

"Three?" Hermione interrupted,

"Mm. That Draco Malfoy was just as bad as Ron and Harry." Molly looked at Hermione very meaningfully, a hint of disapproval hanging about her. "I can't say I appr– Oh, Hugo!" Molly broke off as Hugo detached from the distraction of Harry and returned to Hermione, his eyes bright, and Molly moved back to speak to Ron, who hovered in the background looking uncomfortable.

"Uncle Harry gave me a chocolate frog card I didn't have!" he said as he allowed Hermione to give him another cuddle, holding up a card that had some Quidditch player on it. "From the new season. And he said he'll take me to see the new Star Wars movie in the Christmas hols, if you and dad will let me."

"I'll go with you," Ron said, coming forward at last and ruffling Hugo's hair, dropping a kiss on Hermione's cheek. "I don't know if your mum'll want to, though."

"Probably not," Hermione said with a wry smile. "Hi Ron." Over his shoulder she noticed Rose slipping into the room in ankle boots, woolly tights, and a baggy jersey that nearly reached her knees, and fervently hoped the girl was wearing a dress or shorts underneath.

"Hi 'Mione. You're looking better." Ron smiled at her – all of them being so polite, and civil, and well-behaved. It was all so false, it set Hermione's teeth on edge, despite being what Hermione wanted. She forced herself to keep smiling at him as she freed Hugo from her hug.

"I'm feeling better too." Rose gave a little wave at Hermione from near the door, and she waggled her fingers in response. "Last time the Healer stopped by, she told me I can probably be discharged tomorrow evening, if I keep improving at my current rate."

"So you're going to be fine?" Hugo asked uncertainly, and both Hermione and Ron leaped to reassure him. They all talked for a little while as Rose watched from the outskirts, curly red hair twisted into a thick braid, and dark eyes thoughtful, seemingly happy hovering in the background for now. Hermione wondered why. That was hardly normal, for Rose. Hugo looked bored after about fifteen minutes or so, and Ron still just as awkward, and then he realised that Rose hadn't even gotten a look in yet, which gave him the excuse he needed.

"Rosie hasn't even gotten to say a proper hello to your mum yet, Hugo. How about your Gran and I take you to Hogsmeade for lunch, and then I can come back and pick up Rose once she's had a chat with mum?"

"I don't mind sticking around and bringing Rose into Hogsmeade side-along," Harry offered distractedly – fidgeting with his phone, which probably wasn't working properly in the magically saturated hospital – and it was decided. Ron, Molly, and Hugo all gave Hermione a hug, and left for the disapparition point on that floor, Hugo giving Hermione a last wave as he left. Harry yawned and stretched, and patted Hermione's foot as he got up. "I'll go wait in the corridor. Just come get me when you're ready, Rosie."

Rose nodded as she moved to hug Hermione. "Mum! Merlin, you look awful."

Hermione huffed a laugh. "Thanks, Rose."

"Well, you know what I mean," Rose said impatiently, leaning on the bed edge by Hermione's hip. And then she went on without pause, her stare hard on her mother's. "So, guess who I saw slipping down a side corridor to avoid us, just as we were on our way to your room?"

Malfoy, Hermione thought. And: Oh Merlin.

"I don't know, darling, who?" she said aloud, trying to hit a kind of disinterested tone. Rose's stare was scathing; a raised eyebrow and arms crossed as she pinned Hermione with her stare, as if she was going to silently outwait her mother. God, Hermione didn't remember being quite this sharp at thirteen. Although maybe she had been. Right now she felt like a rabbit caught under a wolf's stare, and somehow it was worse because it was her own daughter who had caught her out. She sighed tiredly and caved. "It was Malfoy, wasn't it?"

Rose looked faintly pleased by her victory for a second. "Yes. It was. I don't think anyone else noticed, but it was Mr Malfoy, and I was curious, so I followed him around the corner –" good lord, it was like Rose had all the traits that had gotten Hermione and Ron into so much trouble; dogged, smart, impulsive, and glibly fearless "– and he was just standing there, like he was waiting for something." Rose giggled nervously. "I got a bit of a fright to be honest. And he looked at me and sighed, and said 'hello Miss Granger-Weasley', and he was in bare feet, mum –" she looked at Hermione, aghast "– and I said 'were you visiting my mum?'" She paused for breath, looking down at her hands, fiddling with a loose thread on her jersey sleeve.

"And what did he say?" Hermione prompted when Rose hesitated.

"He said yes. And he looked like Scorp did when I caught him with –" Rose caught herself just before she said the name and her cheeks flared red, stumbling as she rephrased "– a, um, boy he likes." Hermione could imagine. Scorpius looked very much like Malfoy had at the same age, in the set of his features, and some of their mannerisms were similar too. And Rose had caught him with a boy? That was interesting; maybe that was why he didn't want to leave Hogwarts. He had a secret relationship. Hermione tucked the thought away to mention to Malfoy later. "And then I asked where his shoes were," Rose went on, sounding embarrassed, "and he just said 'at home, I presume, Miss Granger-Weasley' –" Hermione snorted with nervous laughter despite herself, imagining the very Snape-like drawl that Malfoy had surely said it in, and Rose glared at her, betrayed.

"It's not funny, mum! And somehow I felt like an idiot even though he was the one sneaking barefoot out of your room! And I was going to push, but then he asked how Scorpius was, and how school was going for me, and what my favourite classes were – and somehow I ended up talking to him pleasantly for nearly ten minutes, and then he said he'd better let me go, and it was only once he'd gone that I realised he never once told me what the hell was going on!"

Hermione laughed. A helpless snicker, her hand pressed over her mouth as though she could push the laughter back down. "Oh, I'm sorry, Rose. I know it's not really funny. It's very frustrating. But that's just so Malfoy."

"You really like him, don't you?" Rose was suddenly serious, and Hermione's laughter dried up, leaving her with a cold dread in her stomach.

"I don't want you telling Hugo –

Rose rolled her eyes. "I won't. Jeez, mum."

"Then yes, I won't lie. I do. A great deal."

"Good," Rose said unexpectedly, and grinned. "Scorp thinks he's been infatuated with you for years. His mum hates you. Scorp's mum, I mean. Although I bet Narcissa Malfoy wouldn't like you much either," she added and giggled. Then out of nowhere: "Maybe you'll get married and Scorp and I can be step-siblings."

"Jesus, Rose," Hermione blurted, genuinely taken aback. "You're marrying me off to him already? Your father and I aren't even divorced! Aren't you...I don't know, sad? I mean..."

"Well, I wasn't happy to start with," Rose said with a sort of brisk pragmatism, "but I talked it over with Scorp, and thought about it, and honestly, it hardly makes a difference. Dad's always away with Quidditch anyway, or I'm at school." She shrugged. "We're hardly all in the house at the same time anyway. And honestly, so many of my Muggle friends' parents are divorced, and most of them seem happier than most of my wizarding friends' married parents, so... Well, that's life, isn't it?"

Hermione sighed. It was sad that Rose had to face those things, even if she seemed to be handling it well, and it made Hermione feel like a failure as a mother. She'd wanted to give Rose and Hugo the upbringing she'd had. But that was life. "It is indeed," Hermione agreed tiredly. "I'm sorry, Rose. It's not fair on you and Hugo, I know. And speaking of Hugo, your dad and I want to give him – and you – one last normal Christmas at the Burrow, so –"

"I know." Rose made a lip-zipping gesture. "You're lucky Hugo is so oblivious, because none of you adults are exactly being subtle."

"Alright, Rose. That's enough," Hermione censured gently, before Rose got carried away and started edging into disrespect. She was at the age where she'd started thinking she could banter with adults on their level, and sometimes she needed reminding she was still a child. She wasn't quite grown up yet. Rose made a face, but changed the subject easily enough.

"So, you're really feeling better?" A bit of worry crept into Rose's face and made her look very young. "I know dad was downplaying what happened. And I know you're not going to tell me what really happened," she said, a little petulant and angry, "but it sounds like you nearly died."

"Oh Rose...I'm fine. Honestly." And so Hermione spent the next fifteen minutes reassuring her daughter and talking around the truth neatly, hoping that the press didn't get wind of what had actually happened and publish it. She told Rose that what Uncle Harry had said was what had happened, and yes, it had been very frightening, but the man who'd done it was dead, and Hermione was absolutely fine. But when Rose finally hugged her and left, it had only just been over an hour since Harry had turned up, and Hermione was exhausted and achy, her stomach sore. She clearly wasn't quite fine yet. The Healer came by shortly after with her lunch and her next dose of potions, and after she was done with it all, she dozed off without even meaning to.

When Hermione woke up Malfoy was there. Asleep in the chair in a fresh white shirt and grey waistcoat, his frock-coat over the arm of the chair, and shoes on. His head was lolling down with his chin to his chest in a way she was sure was going to give him a sore neck, but she could see he'd shaved. Clearly he hadn't slept though. She smiled fondly, reaching out precariously and tapping his knee. He woke with a start.

"Come climb on the bed," she said, low and husky with sleep. "What's the Healer going to do? It's during visiting hours."

He did, shoes and all, and was asleep again in less than a minute, his arms around her.

As promised, the Healer banished Malfoy on Saturday night, shooing him home to bed and telling him not to come back until visiting hours on Sunday. It was probably for the best, although after his nap that afternoon he hadn't looked quite so dead on his feet. They'd spent a pleasant afternoon and evening together, laughing about his encounter with Rose, and trying to think who Scorpius could be seeing – Merlin, I'd hoped I had a few years before I had to worry about that, Malfoy said – amongst other things. Hermione hadn't been happy about him going, feeling nervy alone in her hospital room, but she knew she had to get used to sleeping by herself – and being by herself, in general. She'd always loved having some peaceful alone time, and she wasn't going to let what had happened give her a complex, not if she could help it.

It helped her nerves when, on Sunday, Harry turned up to debrief Hermione on the progress of the case, and was able to tell her that all of those involved in Hermione's kidnapping had been apprehended. Surprising no one, Caritas Usbourne's daughter, Olinda, had been his accomplice on the outside. It made sense; she was Elena's mother. Her husband, having been questioned under veritaserum, hadn't been involved however – at least Elena would have one parent present for what remained of her short life.

Olinda had hired Ciaran Daly and Leonard Wilmington, as well as three others who had been responsible for Caritas's break out, including a guard. All the surviving three were in custody now, along with Olinda. Hermione was safe. It was like a weight lifted off her shoulders, relief pouring through her.

In the silence that followed, Harry sat on the chair by Hermione's bed, leaning forward, his forearms braced across his thighs. He looked up at Hermione, as if not certain whether to speak or not. "What, Harry? I can nearly see steam coming out of your ears, you're thinking so hard."

"I was the one who looked at your memories," he said in a rush.

"Oh God." Hermione covered her face with one hand. Not only was she just plain embarrassed, but she could tell by the way he'd said it that more was coming. Harry cleared his throat, shifting on his chair and looking deeply uncomfortable.

"I just – I thought you should know it was me. And only me. I relayed the facts, but I didn't share any of the, erm, more personal matters that didn't impact on the case. I haven't told anyone. Not even Ginny. And I won't. Your memories deserve to be private, and I'm –" he coloured "– I'm sorry I had to pry." Ironically, his well-intentioned apology just made Hermione feel more awkward, as if she'd done something, or experienced something, so terrible – so shameful – that she'd never want anyone to know about it. And no, while Hermione didn't want her memories pawed over during what had been a nightmarish time, neither was she ashamed. Except she was.

She bit her lip, frustrated. "You saw? With... Ciaran? The – the kisses, and the –"

"I saw you being smart," Harry said tightly, and Hermione remembered that while he could see memories in a pensieve, he couldn't see how she'd been feeling at the time. What she'd been thinking. But he'd seen her sitting with Ciaran as he died, surely, despite there being no earthly reason for her to do so. She said as much to him, and he smiled wryly; sadly. "You're a bleeding heart, Hermione. I'm sure by that point you'd already decided that the man deserved to be rehabilitated. That he just needed love and care to make him a model citizen," he said, tone gentle but light, and Hermione pressed her lips together so they didn't tremble. She took a deep breath through her nose and exhaled slowly.

"No, actually, Harry," she said, and for some reason she wanted to cry. The words fell out of Hermione numbly, tears building, her throat feeling choked. "He needed to die. He was a sociopath. The only future he had was being locked in a cell. Dying was probably kinder. But despite what he was, what he did...he – he saved my life. But he still had to die. It was still for the best." Her voice wobbled and broke. "And that was what made it so – so sad."

She cried for a while, after that, while Harry hugged her, and rubbed her arm comfortingly, and told her it was all okay, helpless and ineffective. And he was wrong – it wasn't okay, not just yet. Hermione knew it would be, though. Eventually. She believed that. She just needed a little time.

Before Harry left, once Hermione had dried her eyes and washed her face, and felt human again, he told her he'd gotten hold of her father on Friday. "I gave him a brief summary of what happened, and told him you were recovering, but needed to stay with him for a while."

"Oh Merlin, Harry... I'm hardly an invalid. I'll be fine at home."

"Trust me, Hermione, you won't," Harry said shortly, in Auror-mode now, eyes sharp and voice firm. "Not by yourself, so soon after what happened. If Ron or Malfoy were staying with you, I wouldn't be so concerned," he said, and Hermione raised her brows at his casual mention of Malfoy like that. "But by yourself? You'll dwell. You'll hear sounds. Have nightmares. Not be able to sleep – it's a bad idea. Give it a week. Wait until you're feeling fully better, and you've gone back to work."

"I plan to go back tomorrow," she said, frowning, and Harry shook his head.

"No way. You're signed off until next Monday – not tomorrow, the one after. You nearly died, 'Mione. Give yourself a break." He patted her knee. "Go stay with your dad for the next week like you told Molly you would." He grimaced. "Or Malfoy, even. Go stay with him. Just, not at home."

Hermione narrowed her eyes on Harry, tipping her head to one side. "Why are you being so nice about Malfoy all of a sudden, Harry?"

He shrugged, uncomfortable, fiddling with his wand. "You didn't see him this last week, 'Mione. I did. From when he first collared me in the office on Monday afternoon and insisted something was wrong, he was frantic. He was a wreck. We were all worried, and panicked, but he was...something else. He didn't sleep or eat as far as I could tell. He went to his father Wednesday morning – I went with him," Harry added, "and he basically begged Lucius to use his position and reputation to try to get the truth out of Usbourne's family."

"He asked his father? Merlin's sake, I can't imagine that went –"

"– well? No. It did not go well. It was a good thing I was there, because they nearly ended up duelling when Lucius told him you weren't worth the trouble – sorry 'Mione," he added and she shrugged, unbothered. Not worth the trouble was a lot more polite than what she'd have guessed, unless Harry was censoring the story for her sake.

"What do you expect from Lucius Malfoy?" she asked rhetorically, busy imagining the scene there must have been between Malfoy and his father. She would've liked to have been a fly on the wall for that. She wondered at the fact that Malfoy hadn't told her about the confrontation. Maybe he hadn't wanted to risk upsetting her with his father's disdain for her.

"Yeah, well, I wasn't expecting Draco Malfoy to react the way he did either." Harry scratched his head somewhat ruefully. "That was when I decided I had to drug him, for his own good. I tipped a Dreamless Sleep into his coffee when we got back to the Ministry. Knocked him out for about four hours, and he was marginally more sane after that." Harry sighed heavily, slouching back in the chair. "Anyway. I can't in all fairness say I have a real issue with you and Malfoy anymore. Not after that. I mean, I think it's gross, and you could do way better than Malfoy, but he's obviously madly in love with you, so...that's nice, I suppose." He grimaced, as if it were the last thing from nice, but his eyes were teasing, and Hermione smiled at him.

"I appreciate the resounding vote of support," Malfoy said dryly as he pushed the door open, and Hermione and Harry both squeaked in fright. Malfoy laughed even as he apologised to Hermione – but not to Harry – and she wondered silently just how much of their conversation he'd overheard. He'd never let slip, if he didn't want her to know.

Housekeeping!

Fascination currently stands at 212,000 words, and 56 completed chapters out of 60 to 62-ish.

Aftermath is currently at 174,000 words, and 36 completed chapters out of 42-ish.

I have a number of other projects in the pipeline now that I'm so eager to share, but I'll leave any announcements until I've finished writing Fascination and Aftermath!

As always, thank you so much to everyone who has engaged with my fics, whether that be favouriting, following, commenting, or sharing. It really does make me very happy, and is great motivation when the words aren't flowing easily!