Sing me to sleep
-Lullabies by All Time Low
I'll see you in my dreams
Waiting to say, "I miss you, I'm so sorry"
August 29th, sometime around 10 A.M –unknown bedroom
I groggily come to my senses and look around the room. The unfamiliar surroundings have me feeling uneasy, yet the scent of the sheets is somehow calming. They smell like home.
Where am I?
The last thing I remember is Stella promising me that joining in on the drinking game ‘would be a good idea’. Everything after is a big blur.
“Hello, is anybody here?” I say tentatively, afraid of who might answer.
No one replies, but I do hear something that sounds quite like ‘whooa-fitza-mafalop’ coming from the corner. My eyes travel to the source of the sound only to discover there’s a shirtless guy asleep on a chair, head leaning against the wall.
How, in the name of Merlin, did I not notice that before?
I lean forward, trying to decipher who it is. I can’t see his face, but that hair looks awfully familiar…
It can’t be…
He jolts awake, banging his head against the wall.
“June?” he says, in a tired voice, rubbing the side of his now sore head.
“THERE BEST BE A GOOD EXPLAINATION AS TO WHY I’M IN YOUR BED WITH NO MEMORY OF LAST NIGHT!”
Now fully awake, he looks at my crazed expression and lets out a low laugh.
“This isn’t funny, Potter! I’m in your bed, and your shirt is off! Why is your shirt off? Oh shit, we didn’t shag, did we?”
The words come out in a rush, but he still manages to understand. This doesn’t stop his laughter though, if anything, it has the opposite effect.
“Calm down, June. No, for Merlin’s sake, we didn’t shag
. My shirts only off because you poured fruit punch all over me last night. And how did you know this was my bed? We could be at some random person’s house for all you know.”
My cheeks flush with crimson, “I dumped a drink on you? I’m sorry, I don’t even remember... Whiskey doesn’t really bring out the best in me.”
He rolls his eyes, “Oh no, you were a real gem.”
I let that remark slide as I answer his other question. “And there’s no way this isn’t your bed, the sheets smell exactly like you!” I say aloud, suddenly realizing why the scent was so calming before.
“Smell like me?” He asks, raising an eyebrow.
“You know, your signature smell. A mix of peppermint, sunshine, rain, and…” I trail off, turning redder by the second. Did I really just say that?
I except him to laugh, or at least roll his eyes again, but he just looks blank. There’s a flicker of emotion in his eyes, but it’s gone before I can identify it.
“Oh,” is all he says before moving on. “Anyway, about last night…”
I let out a huge sigh, “Do I even want to know?”
“Well, I’m not even sure I could tell you. We didn’t really see much of each other until the end of the night.” He says, no longer looking me straight in the eye. “How about we get you something for your hangover and then we can work on filling in the blanks.”
As soon as he says it, I realize how hard my head is pounding, “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.”
We make our way to the kitchen and I try to take in as much of my surroundings as I can. After all, this could possibly be my last time here. It’s a bit bigger than my own flat, but Al comes from a wealthy family, so that’s not really a surprise. I am surprised, however, by how much I love the look of it. It has such a timeless quality to it, yet the color and furniture are distinctly contemporary.
“Did you hire an interior decorator?” I ask offhandedly as he searches for ingredients for what I assume is my hangover remedy.
Brows crumpling in confusion, he replies, “Uh… is that some muggle thing? Because I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Yeah, it is. Forget about it, it’s not important anyway. I’m sure even if you were a male muggle you wouldn’t know what an interior decorator was.”
“Alright,” he says in response, already back to work in the kitchen.
I know it’s rather silly of me, but seeing that Al decorated his flat the way I would decorate my dream house fills me with sadness. It’s like life is trying to rub in how perfect he is for me.
A few minutes later, Al returns to the kitchen table with a steaming cup of something that looks like coffee.
“Drink up,” he says as he hands me the cup. “It’s an old family recipe developed by James Potter the first, guaranteed to have you feeling right as rain after a night of debauchery.”
I take a sip, and the relief is instantaneous. It feels so good that a take another sip, and then another. Pretty soon, I’ve drained the whole cup. “Wow, thanks, Al. This stuff works like a charm!”
I look up at him, expecting to see a smile. Instead, he appears as if he’s just seen a ghost.
Slightly worried, I ask, “What’s the matter with you?”
He just stares at me awhile before answering, “You called me Al.”
For a moment, I forget that we were ever fighting, and I almost ask him why that is so weird. Then I remember with harsh clarity that I haven’t called him anything but Potter or Albus since the day of our fight all those months ago.
“I guess I did.” I murmur indifferently, not sure what else to say.
Awkward silence fills the room and I begin to wonder if he’ll ever break it. After a minute or two of him not saying anything, I decide I’ll just change the subject.
“Well, should we start talking about last night?” I suggest, the seriousness of the situation starting to dawn on me.
Maybe I was just so distracted by being with him again, or maybe my hangover was affecting me more than I thought, but now that my head is clear I realize we are actually going to have to talk. However, all my resolve after talking to Stella seems to be gone. Now, I just want to run home and go back to sulking.
Sulking wasn’t so bad, and it was much less scary than this.
Okay, so sulking did bring into view the scary possibility of a lonely future filled with cats and joining weird groups like “Cheese of the Month Club” just to get human contact… But really, the odds of that happening were pretty slim.
The odds of Al and I getting into an even worse fight, however, and ruining our relationship forever?
Much more likely.
Awkwardly rubbing the back of his head, he says, “Yeah, good idea.”
“Okay. So, I remember getting ready with Stella, and then arriving at the party and having a few drinks, but most everything else is a blur.”
All right, so maybe I remember a little bit more, but he doesn’t know I had to take a few shots before I could work up the courage to talk to him. Although, it seems I had more than a few…
“Right, well some time after that you dumped a punch bowl on me. It was probably around midnight, because I remember Corey and I were having a chat-”
“Wait, did you just say Corey?” I interrupt, thinking I must have heard him wrong.
“Yeah, as in Corey Davies,” he says, oblivious.
Hot, molten, rage fills my entire body. I’m like a bleeding volcano. Hearing that name acts like a trigger, bringing back my memories of last night’s events, and I am not happy.
August 28th, 9:45 P.M. –The party
We arrive at Scorpius’ fashionably late, because according to Stella ‘one must always arrive late, that way people will realize how much your arrival improves the party’ or some rubbish like that. Personally, I think she just couldn’t find a proper excuse that warranted the three hours it took her to get ready.
Getting ready for work? She’ll take five minutes.
Getting ready for a party? Be sure to have your whole day cleared because that girl sure knows how to primp. Not that she needs too, but she’s a right stubborn girl.
“June and Stella! It’s always an honor having you lovely ladies around.” Scorpius says with a devilish smile, hugging each of us as we walk in the door.
“Oh, Malfoy, you are too kind. The real honour is ours; after all you did invite us to your magnificent home!”
Normally, I would think Stella was being sarcastic, but Scorpius’ truly did live in an amazing house. You’d except a Malfoy to live in a huge mansion, but the house wasn’t even that large. What was breathtaking was the view. From the front it appeared like any house you’d see in muggle England, but the whole back was floor to ceiling windows that faced a forest of trees and a small spring. Even in the dark light of the night sky, you could see the beauty.
“Thank you, Stella, but it’s really nothing special.”
Believe it or not, Scorpius was actually a pretty humble guy.
“Not nearly as special as the hottie who owns the house, that is!” He adds as an afterthought.
Okay, so maybe I spoke to soon, but we are here to celebrate his birthday so I choose to ignore that.
Stella rolls her eyes and pushes past him into the house and I follow suit.
From the entrance hall, I can tell the party is already in full swing, and it is definitely not a ‘small gathering’ as she had promised. I’m actually just about to complain to her about this when she sticks her hand up in silence.
“Shhhh. I know exactly what you’re going to say, and I don’t want a word of it. We’re at a party, June! So it’s not exactly the small gathering I had said it would be, but what difference does it make? Can’t you just loosen up and enjoy?”
I open my mouth, fully ready to argue back, when I close it suddenly and just nod instead and say, “Okay.”
Stella has her counter-counter argument ready to go, but snaps her mouth shut after processing what I just said. “Wait, did you just agree without even putting up even a teeny-tiny fight?” She says, astounded.
“Yup, getting worked up about something as dumb as this won’t help me be ready to talk to Albus. I need to be as calm as possible, and maybe a little less sober.”
Stella laughs at the last part before responding, “Well, well. Looks like June is going with the flow today.”
I can’t help but smile, “Damn right I am. Now, don’t we have a party to attend to?” I say, holding out my arm.
“Why, yes we do.” She replies, returning my smile and linking her arm with mine as we walk into the living room.
I just hope I’m not making a huge mistake.
“And I was like, ‘No, you can’t have that hamster,’ and then she was all like ‘Y’all better get outta my kitchen!’ and then I think there was an explosion. Oh, and my pants finally turned up a bit after that. I think… Or maybe that was after the guacamole incident.”
I just keep nodding me head, because honestly I have no idea what Scorpius is saying. “Oh, is that right?”
“Yup! That was also the night Freddy got his chicken! Stupid Al, he just had to agree to that bet and now he’s got it back!” Scorpius practically shouts, as if he completely forgot until this very moment.
“I can’t believe I forgot about that,” Hm, I guess I was right. “Oi! ALBUS, YOU GIT. WHERE ARE YOU? ALLLLBUUUSSSS!”
Scorpius continues to scream Al’s name, which means he could pop up any second. I’ve got to act quick. So I do the first thing that comes to mind; I stop Scorpius’ shouting. With my fist?
Did I seriously just punch Scorpius in the face?
Rubbing his jaw, Scorpius whimpers, “June, why’d you punch me in the face?”
Well, that answers that question.
“I’m so sorry, Scorpius! I did it because, umm, Rose is coming! And I, um, needed to get your attention so you could get a head start and get away!”
Sober Scorpius might be a little skeptical, but this slighter drunker version of Scorp just looks relieved.
“Wow, thanks, June! You’re such a good friend, punching me just so I could avoid Rosie. You little life-saver you!” He says bouncing away merrily, the knuckle-sandwich already a thing of the past.
Just as he’s out of my line of vision, Rose actually does show up, and Albus is still nowhere to be seen. So basically it’s a win for both of us. Yay logic!
Rose walks right up to me and gives me a huge hug. “Hey, Junebug, long time no see!”
“Rose!,” I say happily, returning her hug. “I know, it’s been much too long. But please, for the love of Merlin, don’t call me Junebug.”
She laughs loudly, an interesting mix of high pitch giggling and snorting. Anyone else with a laugh like that would drive me crazy, but with her, it’s just endearing. “Sorry, old habits die hard.”
“Yeah, whatever you say.” I say, rolling my eyes.
“Anyway, how are you doing? I haven’t seen you since graduation! Is there anything new going on?” She asks with genuine interest.
“Sadly, there’s been nothing too interesting. Stella and I are fully settled into our flat, I started my job at the Ministry, and I lack the ability to handle my love life. How about yourself?”
“That all sounds exciting! Except the love life thing… But don’t worry, boys are so overrated. Take Scorpius for example.” She says, a glint of bitterness in her eyes.
“I was actually just about to ask about that. Not that I don’t want you here, Rosie, but why on earth would you go to a party at Scorpius’ house?”
Rose and Scorpius were completely head over heels in love from third year through the middle of seventh. There even was, much to her father’s dismay, talk of engagement. However, they got in a huge disagreement and broke up. Nobody knew why, but Al told me in confidence that Scorpius ended things because of their families. Even though a lot of the Weasley/Potters have come to accept it, he felt it would hurt Rose in the long run to be married to someone her parents disapproved of. Because he really did have plans to propose after graduation, but he didn’t want to put her through that.
Of course, she knows none of this. Al tried to talk Scorpius out of it a million times, but he had already made up his mind. Therefore, to Rose, Scorpius is just the jerk who broke her heart for no good reason.
Every since then, whenever she sees him she is downright awful, and after long enough Scorpius becomes fed up and retaliates. Which means it’s best the two aren’t within spitting distance of each other. Rose usually says something bitchy followed by an insult from Scorpius.
One time actual spitting was involved.
“If there’s a party that my friends will be at, well then I’ll be there too. The fact that the prat of the century is throwing it doesn’t affect my decision. I haven’t even run into him yet, so I didn’t even have to hex him! It’s a win-win.” She responds with a look of joy on her face.
This coming from the girl who baked cookies for the whole Hufflepuff team after Gryffindor beat them for the house cup because ‘she felt so bad for those sweet ‘puffs’? I’ll never understand how such a sweet girl can get so vicious.
I just smile, “Glad to see you’re always looking on the bright side, Rose.”
She grins back warmly, giving me a pat on the back. “I’m just a glass half-full kind of girl. Now, if you’ll excuse me, there’s some Firewhiskey with my name on it.” She gives me a quick hug and walks off, shouting behind her, “It was lovely catching up!”
Just as quickly as she leaves, Stella reappears right in front of me.
“There you are,” I say. “You ditched me and I’ve had to deal with drunk Scorpius and Rose all night.”
She laughs, throwing her arm around my shoulders. “Sorry, mate. It couldn’t have been that bad! I had to deal with some Scorpius’ drunkenness myself. Found him in the corner about fifteen minutes back, sobbing and singing some bloody song about Rose. I think the lyrics went something like this, ‘Rose Weasley, that friggen’ witch. She’s nothing but a red headed bitch. A bitch that I love, love more than a rug.’”
I burst out it a fit of laughter, “Wait, love and rug don’t even rhyme.”
“Trying tell that to him. He thinks he’s written a new hit. Poor dear,” she says shaking her head.
She goes on to tell me about her night so far. You know, blokes throwing themselves at her, plenty of dancing and whatnot. The usual stuff for her, at least. Stella also tells me that she saw Quaffleboobs at the party, and she was all over Albus.
According to her, he looked ‘extremely uninterested’ but how am I supposed I believe that? He seemed plenty interested with her at the restaurant, and I’m sure she’s even more interesting at a party wearing a skimpy dress.
“June, I promise you that he was totally not into her. She looked rather pathetic, actually,” she adds with a laugh. “Now, how about you go find Al, tell him all the things you need to say, and then kiss and makeup; allowing everyone’s lives to go back to normal once and for all.”
“You make it sound like it’s so easy!” I say indignant, ducking out from under her arms. “I don’t have the courage to face him.”
She gives me a devilish grin, “I think the people over there just started a new round, if we go join now you’ll have plenty of courage to face Albus. Come on, it will be fun!”
I, for some strange and unexplainable reason agree. “All right, if you say so.”
“Yippie!” She says, practically dragging me to the group of partygoers across the room.
We arrive just in time to hear the rules of the game. “…so every time your partner uses Voldemort’s name in a sentence, you have to take a drink. It’s really rather simple! Everyone grab a friend, some alcohol, and let’s get going!” finishes a rather enthusiastic boy in a green polo shirt. I think his name is Duncan, but I can’t be sure.
Stella’s first sentence from right off the bat, “One Voldemort day, I was Voldemorting to the Voldemort store where I saw Voldemort and good old Hp. He told Voldemort to die, and Voldemort did. That was the day the music died and so did Voldemort. Oh, did I mention Voldemort?”
After another ten minutes of this great fun, I was completely smashed.
Now, in a completely drunken stupor, I decide it would be a good idea to look for Albus. Obviously, I have great judgment. I look around the first floor, only to find Albus talking to Corey Davies right near the refreshments.
The very same Corey Davies that Albus accused me of cheating with at the end of last term.
Naturally, I marched right across the room. The whiskey inspiring me to show him exactly how I feel about this newest development.
“ALBUS FlPPEN POTTER,” I roar over the music, “YOU ARE A FOUL GIT AND I WANT TO SPIT ON YOUR SHOES,” I reach over and grab the punch bowl. “BUT INSTEAD, I THINK I’LL DO THIS,”, I continue to shout, barely catching a glimpse of his shocked expression as I turn back and promptly dump the entire contents of said bowl on his head.
He simply gapes at me in disbelief, and everyone is giving me that ‘did she really just do that?’ look.
“Yes, I really did just do that, thank you very much.” I say, and on that note, I take my leave, only to trip over a speaker not ten feet away, landing gracefully on my face.
I see Corey step forward and extend his hand forward to help me up, but I ignore it and get up by myself. I at least have a small shred of dignity left.
I hear Albus shout as I walk away, “What the bloody hell was that for, Adams?”
I have a million responses in mind, several of which involve words one doesn’t hear in civilized conversation, and all centering on the fact that he’s being all chummy with the boy he accused me of cheating with. Why does he hate my guts, but not his?
However, I choose to say nothing at all. If he has to ask, then he doesn’t deserve to know. It’s pretty bloody obvious already. Instead, my alcohol-influenced brain decides that I should stick my tongue out at him.
An extremely mature approach, I know.
Feeling hurt, drunk, and slightly embarrassed, I go and do what all perfectly sane people do; I join of group of sketchy looking men drinking so that I can get even more drunk and embarrassed.
“Oh ‘ello, sweetheart, care to join us for a little fun?” says a boy wearing a rumpled burgundy shirt.
“Burgundy is a lovely color.” I blurt out awkwardly, causing them all to laugh.
I just smile because my head is already starting to hurt, and I don’t feel up to thinking of a response.
Burgundy boy steps closer, whispering his whiskey tainted breath in my ear, “My name’s Cole, by the way. What’s your name?”
I giggle, my ear is very ticklish. “I’m June. Some people call me Junebug, but I don’t like that.”
He smirks, “That’s a lovely name.”
I thank him and he asks if I’d like to dance.
“OF COURSE I’D LIKE TO DANCE!” I practically shout, as I whip him onto the makeshift dance floor that is Scorpius’ living room.
We dance for a while, and I began to feel uncomfortable. His body is right up against mine as we move to the music, leaving me no room to breathe. His hands slide down to my bum and I want him to stop. It’s hot, much to hot.
“Can we please sit down for awhile? I’m feeling a little faint.” I plead, and he obliges, leading me to the nearest couch.
The cool leather instantly helps soothe me as I let out a sigh of relief. “Ah, this is much better,” I lean my head back and close my eyes, “Maybe I’ll just rest awhile.”
“Babe, you can’t go to bed now,” he says sounding a bit angry. “Things were just getting fun.”
I feel his hand squeezing my knee, and I don’t like it one bit. I want to scream at this tosser to piss off, but I have so little energy that it comes more like a whimper. “Stop that, it hurts.”
“Oh, just relax. You know you want me to kiss you.” he smiles at me and I feel revolted. I don’t want those lips, or any other part of him for that matter, anywhere near me.
I try to say no when suddenly he’s mouth is forced on the mine. I do my best to push him off, but he’s so strong, and I’m even weaker than usual.
“Gerr effff mee.” I continuing to say, using every last bit of force I have to push him.
He barely even budges.
He’s tongue is down my throat, his hands are all over the place, and there is nothing I can do about it.
I try one more time to yell, “GERR EFF ME!” I scream, using my leg to give him a good kick in the knee.
Right as I kick him, he get’s yanked from the couch.
“I think she told you to GET. OFF.” snarls a very angry looking Albus Potter.
Still covered in the punch I poured on him, he looks extra intimidating. Those red stains could be blood for all this chump knows.
“Mate, relax! The chick’s just playing hard to get. You know how it is. Now, piss off.” Cole says nonchalantly to Al as he turns back towards me.
Albus reaches out and grabs Cole’s shoulder, whipping him back to face him. “Hmm, I guess I don’t ‘know how it is’, but I do know how to make a manky prat shut up.”
The boy’s face crumples in confusion, “How?”
“By doing this,” he says with a smirk, punching him square in the face.
The boy falls to the ground with a thud. “And don’t you ever touch her again.” Albus says with conviction before turning back to me, “Are you okay June, did he hurt you?”
It is then that I faint.
“June! Say something!” Stella says loudly in my ear, shaking me forcefully. I can hear her but I can’t seem to open my eyes yet.
“Oh Merlin, this isn’t happening. This can’t be happening! June, can you hear me?” I hear Albus’ worried voice as his gently pushed the hair out of my face.
I want so badly to tell them I’m alright, but I can’t seem to get the words out. Every time I try, it’s like the feeling you get when running into a screen door you didn’t see; frustrating and slightly painful.
“Maybe I should get her out of here; some fresh air might help wake her up. Or I can just take her home,” suggests Al, panic evident from his tone.
“Eh, I don’t know if that’s a good idea…” she trails off.
I still can’t open my eyes, so I’m not sure, but I think some nonverbal communication must be going on because a second later Stella says, “Hey, don’t look at me like that! I’m only apprehensive because I don’t know how she’d feel about it, not because I don’t trust you to take care of her.”
“Stella, you know I can’t just leave without knowing if she’s okay. Besides, if I don’t get out of here soon I might just have to go and kill that git for taking advantage of her.”
She lets out a loud sigh, and gives my hand a tight squeeze before replying, “I know, I know. I’m not in any state to take care of her anyway, I drank almost as much as she did. I’ll have Corey apparate me home and you just take good care of her. I’m counting on you.”
They exchange goodbyes quickly, Al being very eager to get me out of here. I only have to wonder for about thirty seconds on how he’s going to transport me before he scoops me up into his arms. The sudden change from ground to air causes me to let out an involuntary gasp of surprise.
Albus doesn’t hear me over the sound of the music, but once outside I am able to get out a few more sounds, my ability to speak slowly returning.
“June, are you up? Say something else!” he says excitedly, still holding me as we wait in Scorpius front yard. Not to get off subject, but I’m kind of surprised he’s holding me so easily. At 5 feet 6 and half inches, I’m not exactly small.
“Ig-gy,” I mange to croak out, my throat feeling extra raw.
“What? Say it again, I don’t quite understand.”
I concentrate extremely hard, hoping to force out the word, “Sti-cky. Sticky.”
More confused than before, he asks, “What’s sticky June?”
I look up and give him a little smile, “Your shirt silly-Billy. It’s so sticky.” My thoughts are becoming a little clearer and speaking is definitely a lot easier. I must have hit my head or something when I ‘went out for the count’ as they say.
“And whose fault is that? You’re the one who poured drinks on me,” he says in mock-anger, but the relieved smile spreading across his face kind of ruins the effect.
I don’t even bother to respond, instead I snuggle against his warm chest, feeling more comfortable than I have in a long time.
The next thing I know, we are at Al’s flat. He offered to take me home, but I didn’t want to be left alone, and he didn’t want to leave me anyway.
I go to law down on his couch, but he insists I use his bed. “Besides, I’m not tired,” he says, even though I can see the dark circles already forming under his eyes.
Normally, I wouldn’t give in so easily, but I’m tired and his bed looks so soft that I just shrug and crawl under the blankets. My head hits the pillow and I except instantaneous sleep, but for some reason my body won’t shut down. I toss and turn back and forth, unable to drift off.
Sitting in the corner, Al notices that I can’t sleep. He drags his chair over next to the bed and grabs my hand. It’s barely a whisper, but he begins to sing a lullaby. It’s one my mom used to sing to me when I was little. A mixture of emotions washes over me. I feel sad but at the same time I feel… happy? Having Al here, singing me to sleep no less, helps fill up the hole I’ve had inside. It’s a nice feeling, knowing that someone cares about you, even when your own mother doesn’t.
A single tear rolls down my cheek as I slowly fall asleep to the song, singing it to myself in my head as Albus says it aloud.
Funny how even after all these years, I still remember every word.
August 29th, still around 10 AM –Al’s kitchen
I open my mouth to yell, ready to tell him what a prat he is for talking to Corey and not me, but I snap it shut.
How can I yell at him after all he did for me last night?
I stay silent, unable to decide if I should be mad or happy about all of this. I was confused enough before this all happened. I just assumed Al couldn’t stand me anymore, and that when we finally had that ‘talk’ I had been planning on maybe he’d hate me a little less. Now all the sudden he’s being my ‘knight in shining armor’?
Why did he go from ignoring my existence to singing me to sleep?
“Well, are you going to say something?” He finally asks, unable to handle the silence for one moment more.
I nod my head, “Yeah, actually,” I say taking a deep breath. “Why?”
Al cocks an eyebrow, “Why what?”
I let out a frustrated sigh, “Why did you help me? Why did you sing me that bloody lullaby? Just, why everything!”
He looks down at the table, not meeting my gaze.
“Tell me why, Albus.” I spit out at him, starting to get angry.
He doesn’t even lift his head up, “I don’t know.”
“Well, then I don’t know why I’m still here.” I say coldly, getting up and pushing my chair in with more force then necessary.
I walk to the door, grabbing my shoes and coat that I must have left in the front entryway. I turn on the spot, ready to apparate home. Just as I start the rotation, I see Al running towards me, stopping a foot or two away.
“June, I did it because I still love you.”
A/N: Hey, I am SO SO SO SO SO sorry about the long wait! There's no excuse for taking so long, but I hope this extra long chapter will make up for it. Oh, and DH premieres at midnight tomorrow! Yay for movies. ONE MORE THING, sorry if the spacing is weird again, my editor just won't stop spacing it oddly. I've tried to change it a million times put the spaces just go back. Sigh. Maybe I'll figure out what I'm doing wrong soon, haha.
Be sure to leave a review and tell me what you think!