Chapter 9 : In which it is proven that mothers are always right
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When ten minutes had passed and Draco had still not returned from the bathroom, Ginny decided to go and see if he had died. The bathroom door was still closed when she reached the top of the stairs. She knocked gently. “Can I come in?”
“It’s your house,” came the tart reply. Ginny opened the door cautiously to find Draco sitting on the closed toilet, face in his hands. He looked up as she stepped into the bathroom, Ginny closing the door behind her. With a wry smile he asked, “This isn’t going well, is it?
Ginny smiled back, “Well, it isn’t exactly going as I had imagined it; let’s put it that way.”
Draco rolled his eyes and stood up. “Kill me now,” he ordered seriously.
Ginny reached for her wand with a shrug but paused, her hand in the pocket of her jumper. “Maybe we could come up with a better solution. You’ve grown on me a little,” she admitted, “and killing you doesn’t seem as appealing as it once did.”
“I suppose I should take that as a compliment,” said Draco dryly.
Ginny shrugged again, “Take it however you want,” but she couldn’t help but smile. She leaned back against the closed door. In front of her, on the opposing wall, was the pedestal sink, and to the right of the sink was the toilet. In the wall to her left was a small shower. The tiny bathroom, which she had once shared with Ron, now served guests and any family staying at the Burrow.
Draco, who had lapsed into silence, suddenly asked, “So does Potter come over a lot?”
“Not really. He’s usually really busy with Auror stuff, like Ron. Once in a while when he gets a break he’ll stop by – usually for dinner or to have Mum mend stuff.” She watched Draco curiously, trying to determine what he was thinking. She assumed the men must have called a truce of sorts while Draco was at Grimmauld Place because neither was dead, but it was clear there was still animosity.
“Oh.” Draco ran a finger along the edge of the sink. “So you two…I mean…you used to…right?”
It took Ginny a minute to decipher the garbled question. When she did she gave a quick, almost sarcasm-free laugh. “We probably had the shortest relationship in history. He couldn’t bear to see me hurt and I couldn’t bear to sit on the sidelines. Even after the war ended he couldn’t stop being…himself. And Auror training took up all his time. We’re just friends now, and I’ve come to realize it worked out for the best.”
Draco didn’t answer right away, but his mood seemed to have improved. His expression had lightened considerably and he was now poking the purple bar of soap on the sink ledge cautiously. Finally he replied, “I have to admit, although I disagree with Potter on almost everything, he does have good taste in pie.”
“You’re going to be insufferable about this, aren’t you?” It was really more of a statement than a question.
He smirked, “Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll suffer through it alright.”
“I should have taken you up on your offer and killed you!”
“Now, now,” Draco waved a finger at Ginny condescendingly, “you don’t really mean that. Remember: I’ve grown on you. You know you’d miss me.”
I knew regret telling him that. Ginny sighed dramatically, “I suppose I can see a downside to killing you…I’d be obligated to come to your funeral.” She shook her head sadly.
Draco made an outraged face. “I can’t believe it! How could you not want to come to my funeral? It would be the social event of the year! And you know I would look damn good even dead.”
Ginny gasped, “Such conceit!”
“Is it really conceit if it’s true? And that has to be the smallest shower I’ve ever seen.”
It took Ginny a second to adjust to the abrupt change of subject. “What?”
“This shower,” Draco slid between her and the sink, “is tiny! I hadn’t noticed it before, but,” he stepped across the small, raised edge of the shower to stand inside it, “you could hardly turn around in here.” He jerked shut the flowery, plastic curtain. “I hope no one in your family is claustrophobic!”
Ginny shook her head in disbelief and annoyance. Here they were having a perfectly nice conversation and he had to ruin it with his discovery of the World’s Smallest Shower. “Don’t be ridiculous!” Ginny marched over to the closed curtain and pushed it open. “There’s plenty of – ” She broke off as she noticed Draco wasn’t paying attention to her; he was busy smelling a bottle of something hanging in the shampoo rack. Ginny demanded, “What in Merlin’s name are you doing?”
He looked back at her, bottle in hand. “Your shampoo smells really good!”
“Let me see that.” Ginny stepped across the edge of the shower, too. She didn’t remember leaving any shampoo the last time she had stayed overnight. Taking the bottle from Draco she couldn’t suppress a giggle. Looking up at him with a wicked smile she asked, “Does it really smell that good?”
He took back the bottle and replied, “Oh, yeah, it’s great.”
Ginny let out another giggle. “Well,” she told him, eyes sparkling with mirth, “that’s very kind of you, but that’s not my shampoo. It’s Ron’s.”
Draco let out a strangled yell and flung the bottle across the bathroom, as though he had accidentally touched something disgusting. “Ew! Ew! Ew!” He shook his hand rapidly, revulsion etched across his pale face.
Ginny’s giggles became full-throated laughter. “I’ll be sure – ” she choked out, “to tell Ron – ” she gave a snort, “how good you think he smells.” She patted – or, rather, slapped – Draco on the chest several times as her eyes began to water from her laughter.
“I ought to kill you right now,” Draco growled, as he wiped the hand that had held the shampoo bottle on a sleeve of Ginny’s jumper, apparently trying to remove any cooties he might have acquired. “That way you’ll have no time to tell anyone about this.”
Ginny, regaining control of herself, shook her head. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell a soul.” She paused, “For a price.” She grinned evilly. He scowled. Ginny continued, “How about that nice collection of Cannons’ jerseys you were on about? Or maybe – ” She stopped, just noticing his hand, which Draco had been cleaning on her, had never left her arm. She glanced down at it and then back at Draco. Her hands, too, had not left his chest where she had been slapping him in her fit of laughter moments before.
The shower suddenly seemed very small. Draco was right! her mind screamed. This is the smallest shower ever! How did I never notice this before? What were Mum and Dad thinking when they installed a shower this small? They obviously weren’t planning for situations like this!
He was far too close, much too close for Ginny’s comfort. Was it her imagination or was Draco getting closer? His face had gone strangely blank and unreadable. This is not good, she thought desperately. This is really not good. Yet she didn’t seem to be doing anything about it. Now she was positive it wasn’t just her imagination; they were much closer than they had been. Ginny shut her eyes. Someone knocked on the bathroom door.
Ginny jumped backward in surprise, hitting her head against the side of the shower. Draco did the same, head smacking into the shampoo rack. For the love of Merlin! “What!?” Ginny shouted furiously. Of all the bloody perfect moments for someone to pick…
“Ginny dear, it’s me,” Mum’s voice called. “May I come in?”
No! her mind shouted. “Just a second, Mum!” Her eyes snapped away from the door and back to Draco’s face. His own eyes were wide with what she presumed to be panic – very similar to what she was feeling at the moment – and he was rubbing the back of his head. Ginny stared at him. Bloody hell! I almost just – No time to think about that now! a more reasonable part of her interrupted. You’ve got bigger problems.
“Ginny?” Mum called again. “Is everything alright?”
“Fine! Everything’s fine!” she yelled. Stumbling out of the shower, Ginny hissed to Draco, “Stay put!” and pulled the shower curtain shut.
She opened the bathroom door, plastering a smile on her face. Her mother stood in the doorway, looking concerned. “Did you find Draco, dear?”
“Er, yeah… yeah, I found him,” Ginny replied. “I sent him to the living room down the back way.” She centered herself in the doorway, trying to discourage her mother from entering.
Mum, however, would not be deterred. “Ginny, may I come in?” Ginny stepped aside with trepidation and Mum entered, closing the door behind her. “I’m terribly upset about the shoelaces,” she shook her head, whips of hair dancing. “I told the boys to be good – gave them a nice long lecture – before he arrived and they have go and do something so childish!” She made an angry noise. “And I couldn’t for the life of me get out of them which one had done it. They all adamantly denied it; as if his shoelaces would have tied themselves!”
“Don’t worry about it, Mum,” Ginny said dismissively, mentally urging her mother back toward the door. She still held out hope that this situation would not manifest to its full, embarrassing potential.
Glancing at her reflection in the mirror hanging over the sink, Mum inquired lightly, “So what exactly is going on between you and Draco?”
All hope Ginny had felt vanished. She felt her face redden. “Nothing, Mum,” she said firmly, chancing a glance at the shower. The curtain remained thankfully still. Nothing yet anyway, whispered something in the back of her mind. Shut up! ordered the more logical and controllable part of her brain.
Her mother, who was still studying the mirror, now patting her hair, murmured, “Now, Ginny, be honest. You know I’ve always supported you in your relationships, and that’s not about to change.”
“I am being honest! Once this ring is off I’ll probably never see him again.” For some unknown reason, with this statement her stomach clenched into an uncomfortable knot.
Mum turned to look at her, a gentle smile on her face. “But is that what you want?”
Ginny opened her mouth to reply but nothing came out. Is that what I want? Never see Draco again? The knot in her stomach gave a sickening twist. She whispered uncertainly, a frown creasing her forehead, “Maybe not.” Mum smiled. Ginny continued, a little more confidently, “I mean he is an insufferable git…” She glanced again at the shower curtain, remembering Draco’s words, “But I suffer through.”
“Whatever makes you happy, dear.” After a moment Mum sighed, “I suppose I’d best go back to the kitchen. You’ll let Draco know that we’re all having pie now, if he’d like to come join us?”
Ginny nodded. “I’ll let him know.”
Giving Ginny a pat on the arm, her mother left the bathroom, once again closing the door. When her footsteps had faded, Ginny whispered, “You can come out.” She heard the curtain rustle behind her.
Draco cleared his throat. “Well…that was awkward.”
To her own surprise, Ginny started to laugh. She turned to face him, spreading her hands in a gesture of helplessness. No longer standing in the shower, Draco – face slightly pink – began to laugh, too. “I’m so sorry,” Ginny told him, shaking her head with a wry smile. She wasn’t sure for what exactly she was apologizing, but it felt like the right thing to do.
He shrugged, “I’ve been in stranger situations.”
Ginny raised her eyebrows in disbelief. “Stranger than hiding in a shower while someone’s mother tries to have a discussion with her about your ‘relationship’?” She used her fingers to make quotes around “relationship.” Then she added, “After you’ve been forced to spend the evening with people you’d much rather run from…or kill?”
Draco considered for a moment before replying, “I walked in on Snape in the shower once when he was staying at the Manor.” Ginny’s mouth dropped open in horror. “He was singing.”
Ginny had the sudden desire to obliviate herself, just to destroy the mental picture she now had. “Merlin’s beard! No wonder you’re so messed up!”
“Too bad you don’t have an excuse,” he teased. More seriously he added, “But that definitely ranks as more permanently scarring than anything that’s happened this evening. Most of your family isn’t that bad.”
Ginny pointed out, smile lopsided, “Although it doesn’t seem like you’ve been having a lot of fun.”
“It’s been hell, sure…” he agreed, “But… how can I explain…being around your family is like doing a spiral dive for the Snitch: you’re really nervous beforehand, but you know you have to do it. Then you take the dive and it makes your head spin and you feel nauseous, but after you’re done you think, ‘That wasn’t so bad. I might even do it again some time.’”
Ginny’s eyebrows went up again, and her voice was a little too innocent, “Is that what being around me is like, too? Nausea-inducing?”
“Oh, no,” Draco shook his head emphatically. “Being around you is like a whole Quidditch match. You’re really nervous before it starts, but then as soon as it does all you can think about what’s happening right then.” He paused as he thought, then continued, “Sometimes it’s dangerous – like bludgers – but,” he added quickly at the look on Ginny’s face, “that just makes it more interesting. And the closer you get to the end, the more you just want to keep flying forever, because as soon as your feet hit the ground everything’s…everything’s real again.” He stopped, staring at her intently as if willing her to understand.
Ginny was at once both flattered and insulted. It was as if the two emotions were fighting inside her chest, like an internal boxing match: “And in this corner is Insulted, weighing in with ‘Sometimes it’s dangerous – like bludgers – ’ And in this corner is Flattered, weighing in with ‘That just makes it more interesting.’ Ding, ding! Whoa, Flattered comes out fighting with ‘You just want to keep flying forever…’ And Insulted is down for the count!”
Ginny smiled. “Well, seeing as Quidditch is both our favorite hobby, I supposed that’s not such a bad thing. It has its ups and downs, but we still play.”
“Yeah,” Draco nodded, “yeah, that’s what I was trying to say.”
She nodded a little, too. Noticing suddenly that they had been staring at each other, Ginny glanced away, blushing slightly. After a long and not entirely comfortable pause, she murmured, “We’d better get back downstairs.”
“Oh! Yeah, of course,” said Draco, sounding as if he was surprised to remember they had somewhere else to be.
Ginny cracked the bathroom door and peered out. Seeing no one, she opened it completely and Draco followed her into the hall. “You better go down the back way, like I told Mum you did,” she instructed, pointing down the hall toward the second staircase. “I’ll wait a minute before I go back to the kitchen.”
He nodded and headed in the direction she had pointed. As Ginny watched Draco’s retreating form, she couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened it Mum had not picked that precise moment to knock on the door.
* * * * * * *
Ginny sat at the Burrow’s kitchen table, fussing with the black silk bag before her and not quite willingly permitting her mother to fix Ginny’s hair. “Hurry up, Mum. He’ll be here any minute.” The “he” in question was Draco, which, Ginny mused, was becoming the case more and more frequently. Two nights after Draco’s less than successful foray into the Weasley home, Ginny would have the chance to try her own luck at Narcissa’s party.
After some discussion, she and Draco had agreed it would be best for him to pick her up at the Burrow. With Draco she could apparate straight into the Manor, bypassing the door which would be swarming with other party-goers, and, as he had never been to her flat, he couldn’t very well pick her up there.
A magically-amplified knock sounded through the kitchen and Ginny leapt from her seat, sending hairpins flying. Mum’s call of “I’m not finished yet!” was ignored as Ginny flew through the swinging door into the hall and skidded to a halt before the front door. Taking a second to catch her breath and regain her composure, she opened the door slowly to reveal Draco. He was scratching at the worn welcome mat with the toe of one shiny dress shoe, his light blonde hair falling over his eyes as he stared down at it. “Hi,” she breathed.
He looked up quickly, “Hi.” He gazed at her for a moment as though he had never seen anything quite like her and then added, “You look…er…nice.”
Ginny glanced down herself. She was wearing dress robes of dark green silk and, although Draco couldn’t see them, a pair of matching heels that she already knew she was going to regret. She thought she looked a sight better than “nice,” but she had to give him credit for trying. “So I don’t normally look nice?” she demanded, sounding offended.
Draco gave her a look that seemed to be outrage mixed with horror. “No! I mean…that’s not what I meant…” he stammered.
I have to give him credit for trying, but that doesn’t mean I can’t mess with him, she smirked internally. Outwardly, Ginny allowed Draco several more seconds of inarticulate stuttering before admitting, “Oh, I was just kidding! You can stop trying to explain your lousy compliment.” As he shut his mouth and gave her a furious glare, she added with a smirk, “And you don’t look so bad yourself.”
That, in fact, was true. Although his robes were the same black as always, today they were trimmed in sliver and made of the most expensive-looking velvet Ginny had ever seen. Twisting her fingers more tightly around her handbag, she resisted the urge to reach out and stroke one of his sleeves.
A hairpin stabbed Ginny in the back of her head. She turned to find Mum securing the offending pin with a wave of her wand. “Hello, Draco dear,” she murmured absently as she considered a spot for the next hairpin in her hand.
“Good evening, Molly,” said Draco, frowning a little and staring at Ginny’s hair. He was apparently trying to determine just what Mum was putting in it.
Personally Ginny thought her hair was a lost cause. The Curling Charm she had attempted at her flat had not gone well – she had never been adept at beauty spells – and the “soft, flowing curls” that were supposed to have been the result were far more frizzy than she had pictured. As she hadn’t had time to wash them out and start over, Ginny had pinned half of her hair back into a messy bun and decided that if Draco commented on its resemblance to a nest of puffskeins she would hex him into oblivion.
Unfortunately, when Ginny arrived at the Burrow, Mum had dropped her own evening preparations to attack Ginny’s unruly hair. Ginny supposed she should be grateful, as the bun was now much neater and the curls less frizzy, but the pain of being jabbed with what seemed like thousands of hairpins was currently outweighing the benefits.
As Mum took hold of one of the loose curls framing Ginny’s face and attempted to twist it around her wand, Ginny waved her mother off and stepped through the doorway. She grabbed Draco’s velvet-clad arm – Soft! – and said quickly, “Thanks, Mum. We’ve got to go.”
Mum, looking only slightly disappointed at the loss of Ginny’s hair, sighed, “Alright. Well, have fun. And try not to drink too much, Ginny.”
“Mum!” Ginny’s face flushed for what she was sure would not be the first time that night, and she leaned a little closer to Draco to hiss, “Next time I’ll show you where my flat is so you can pick me up there.”
He gave a quiet chuckle and whispered back, “But this is so much more entertaining.”
Ginny’s fingers tightened a little harder than necessary around his arm and she ordered under her breath, “We’re leaving!”
“Good night, Molly,” said Draco politely, and he and Ginny turned to slide into darkness.
Ginny took a deep breath as the world popped back into existence and looked around her. They had apparated into what appeared to be a study. A massive wooden fireplace and mantle covered the wall to her right and to her left was a desk in matching wood. Her heels were sinking into the plush blue carpet and around the fireplace sat a couch and several armchairs of a similar shade.
Draco, noticing her survey of the room, motioned to the door in the wall in front of them. “The Grand Ballroom’s down the hall through there.”
“That’s where the party is?” inquired Ginny.
He nodded. Abruptly he declared, “Let’s just not go.”
“What?” Ginny turned to face him, trying to decide if he was being serious.
Draco continued, “Yeah, let’s skive off. I hate these things; they’re always a huge bore. Let’s just stay here and…and…I don’t know… I’ll show you my Cannons stuff!” His face lit up at this solution.
As tempting as the offer sounded – and it did sound very tempting – Ginny shook her head. “We have to go. Your mother will be looking for us.”
The hopeful expression on Draco’s face vanished to be replaced by one of sullen acceptance. “I guess you’re right. But,” he pressed, “if it gets too dull we can always escape.”
Ginny laughed and nodded, “Ok, it’s a deal. How about this: when we want to leave, I’ll ask you to show me where the loo is?”
“We’d better have a signal,” considered Draco. “I know!” He held out his hands in a gesture of “picture this.” “When I pull out my wand and blast myself in the head from boredom, you’ll know it’s time.”
Ginny put on a serious face. “It could work,” she mused, “but perhaps we should go with something a touch more obvious, just in case I forget.”
Draco laughed. “Oh, alright, I suppose I could just cough a few times.”
“That might work better,” smiled Ginny.
Draco gave the door to the hallway a murderous look. “I guess we’d better get going.” He brushed some invisible lint from his robes, adjusted one sleeve, and then tugged on his collar. “I can’t seem to get this to lie straight,” he muttered.
“Let me do it.” Ginny stepped forward and took hold of the edge of his collar. She ran her fingers along the under edge, smoothing the fabric. This stuff must cost ten galleons a meter, she thought with a touch of jealousy. Her fingers had worked their way to the back of his collar and she gave the velvet a little tug, eyeing the length of both ends.
Her gaze snapped to his face where a teasing smirk played across his lips. Ginny, a blush rising in her cheeks, was suddenly very aware of the fact that her arms were around his neck. “Oh, shut up for once, will you?” she snapped, trying to hide her discomfort.
“Alright.” His response was surprising docile, but a mischievous glint in his eyes accompanied the word.
Ginny barely had time to register her surprise, however, because suddenly Draco’s lips were on hers and she had a burst of insight: So this is what would have happened if Mum hadn’t knocked on the door. Unfortunately she didn’t have time to concoct an appropriate revenge on her mother before her mind went blissfully blank and she was forced to focus on the situation at hand.
Ginny thought she was handling the situation quite well, too, when she heard a polite cough behind her. She and Draco sprang apart, Ginny untangling her fingers from where they had twisted in his collar, Draco’s arms dropping from where they had somehow wrapped about her waist.
To Ginny’s horror, Narcissa was standing before the door, looking amused. A knowing smile graced her lips and her icy blue eyes sparkled. “I’m terribly sorry to interrupt,” she murmured.
Draco made a choking sound and sputtered, “This isn’t… We were just… Ginny had some…and I was…” He trailed off and his shoulders sagged in defeat. “Oh, forget it. What did you want, Mother?”
Narcissa glided forward, her delicate silk gown – the same color as her eyes – whispering across the carpet. Tonight her long blonde hair was swept into coils at the back of her head and Ginny noted jealously that not a hair was out of place. Holding out a book that Ginny hadn’t noticed Narcissa was carrying, she told Draco, “I thought you might like to have this.”
Draco took it with a scowl and asked irritably, “Well what is it?”
“I believe it’s the book for which you’ve been searching.” Ginny and Draco gaped at her. Narcissa explained, “I decided to go though the bookshelf in my personal study today. Imagine my surprise when I came upon this book; I’d forgotten I had borrowed it from the main library several months ago. I do apologize for the time you’ve spent looking for it.” With of nod of her head she concluded, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I must see to my guests.” Narcissa exited as swiftly as she had arrived, leaving Ginny and Draco standing stunned in her wake.
“I’m going to kill her.” It seemed to be an all-encompassing statement. Draco’s gaze shifted from the door where he had been staring after his mother to the book in his hand. It looked ancient, the edges worn and the gilded words along the spine faded to the point of illegibility.
Ginny’s fingers had found the ring somewhere during the past few minutes, and she absently twisted it back and forth. It was a habit she had picked up over the past week. At first it had been in the hope that the ring might come loose if she twisted it enough times, but now, as that hope had vanished, it was simply a habit. And very soon that habit would be gone. That’s a good thing, Ginny reminded herself. No, a wonderful thing. What did you spend your weekend and your day off working for?
It hardly seemed like it had only been a week. It felt as though she and Draco had been searching forever, and, although the Disillusionment Charm obscured her vision now, she had become accustomed to seeing the ring on her hand. Remembering the Disillusionment Charm, Ginny pulled her wand from a hidden pocket in her robes and tapped the ring to remove the charm.
Ginny looked back at the book in Draco’s hand, catching a glimpse of the title – Tying the Knot: Magic for Your Magical Day – as he flipped it open. She took a few steps closer so she could read over his shoulder. “To Tie the Knot or Not?” read the first chapter. In a sub-heading it stated, “How to make sure it will last.” The first paragraph began with the bold words: “Fate Spells.” The paragraph ran onto the next page and, as Draco turned the page, Ginny’s eyes fell on the next heading, “Compatibility Spells.” The margin next to this paragraph was cramped with faded handwriting. Ginny scanned it quickly, picking up the words “choose,” “ensure,” and, finally, circled by the same pale ink, “ring.”
“This is it,” said Draco, a little more quietly than normal. He ran his finger down the handwritten notes, stopping at the very bottom of the page where, in a second circle, were the words, “Laxare Adfinatis.”
Ginny held out her left hand. Draco drew his wand and placed its tip on sparkling diamond in the center of the ring. “Laxare Adfinatis,” he incanted. Nothing happened. Ginny looked up at him in confusion. A frown creasing his forehead, Draco suggested, “Try to take it off now.”
Ginny grasped the ring with the thumb and forefinger of her right hand and pulled. The ring slid forward, over her knuckle, and off her finger. She stared at it for a moment in surprise and then, giving herself a mental shake, tried to pass it to Draco. He appeared to hesitate for a second, but then held out his hand. Ginny dropped the ring into it and he slipped it into his pocket.
“Well, that’s that,” said Draco. A moment later he sighed, “I guess we’d better join the party.” Ginny let out a breath that she hadn’t realized she was holding and took the arm he offered her with a smile. As they passed an armchair on their way to the door, Draco tossed down the book. “What a load of dung,” he said, giving it a final, contemptuous glare before he opened the door. “As if people needed ‘fate spells’ or ‘compatibility spells’ to tell them who to marry.” The door closed behind them.
“Or rings,” Ginny said lightly. He glanced down at her and she caught his eye with a smile.
“Or rings,” he agreed, giving her a small smile back. They walked in silence for a minute, Ginny taking in the elaborate pictures decorating the hallway. Suddenly Draco spoke thoughtfully, “When it’s right you don’t need a stupid ring to fit; you just know.”
Ginny wasn’t sure if he was talking to her or simply to himself, so she nodded silently. Rubbing her fingers absently against his velvet sleeve, she thought, It’s true. When it’s right you just know.
There you have it: the last and longest chapter. All done. I must admit I’m a little sad because it has been nothing but fun, but at the same time I know this was the right spot to end. Unfortunately (for anyone who wanted one anyway) there will be no sequel.
If you thought the last few lines sounded familiar, you were right! If you have no idea what I’m talking about (which is probably the case) you can flip back to the very first chapter and reread the last line of the first scene. As the chapter title states, mothers are always right!
Please, please, please, let me know what you thought. If it weren’t for all you readers and reviewers, this story probably would have been abandoned as yet another of my crazy ideas that was destined to go nowhere. As you are all fabulous, however, it became what you have just read, and I must say I couldn’t be more pleased with the result.
And now, I have nothing do but wait breathlessly for the 7th book. That and update my novel length fic Jade…*sigh* This writing thing’s never-ending, but I love it anyway. Maybe all my hopes and dreams will come true and this story will still be canon after DH. *crosses fingers*
Much love to everyone,
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