A/N: LAST CHAPTER! WOOOO. Finally. This fucking story haha.

Draco blocked the thoughts from his mind and fell apart. There was shifting in front of him, but he couldn't focus long enough to see what was going on. He could feel one thing and one thing only: horror. It had happened. The deed was done. His attention diverted to the woman in front of him, as she whispered a spell over him and extracted the necessary substance.

"It was a pleasure working with you," she remarked, fastening the cloak around her neck and rising from the stone floor. "I would love to stay and chat, but I have a daughter waiting for me upstairs."

The knot in his chest tightened.

Leanne turned to the door and spelled it open, before leaving him to rot in the cell. The curse was still upon him, though he assumed she meant for him to stay that way. It was difficult to think the woman before him was the same woman he had spent all those nights with seven summers ago. She was a different person back then. But he wasn't sure he cared to find out what had changed her. It could have been the fact that she lost her daughter, though he would never know.

The only person in his life to have made such an abrupt change in their personality was himself.

That change, however, had clearly been for the better and without it, he would never have found Hermione or had their daughter.

Draco wanted to move but he couldn't. It felt as though he was paralyzed. There was sweat dripping from his brow, rolling down his face and sinking into the fabric of his shirt.

It had been several minutes. There can't have been much time left. But Leanne had already obtained everything she needed to complete the ritual. The timer was no longer hers to worry about. It was his. The more time he spent locked up in the cell, the further he got from finding his daughter.

Something deep within him began to ache. His soul, perhaps. Whatever it was, it grasped him with surprising force and caused the helplessness in his veins to retreat, making way for something he had felt in about an hour.


The man focused, as hard his mind would allow. Leanne's footsteps died out around five or six seconds ago. She had to be far, which meant he could give Occlumency another shot. Mind control wasn't difficult to overcome with the right amount of distance, or so he assumed. It was the only thing keeping him hopeful at that point.

His worries and stresses and anger collected into a single ball of energy, hovering in his chest like a bomb waiting to detonate. There was little he could do against the shackles, but he could still try to fight the curse.

He thought of Cissy.

He thought of his parents.

He thought of Hermione.

He thought of everyone in his life, everyone he cared about and admired. But his efforts were wasted. It seemed the weight holding him down only increased, the more he tried to fight it.

Draco would have cried out right then, either from exasperation or defeat, or both, but right then, right as he felt the last glimmer of hope flicker away into the abyss, he heard something.

It was a loud, fearsome growl followed by fast, aggressive movement and then an earsplitting scream — Leanne's scream.

The wizard shot a look to the cell door, only then realizing the curse had been lifted. He glanced down, moving his arms and legs and feeling that glimmer of hope return to him, before another one of those growls filled the dungeon.

There was more movement.

It was slow, but ominous.

Something must have attacked Leanne, thereby lifting the Imperius Curse from him. Something that was now stalking the rest of the dungeon, searching for its next victim.

Draco tugged against the shackles, feeling his wrists and ankles bruise against the pressure. There was no use. They wouldn't budge. He was stuck.

The movement grew louder and closer, causing a collection of chills to run the length of his spine.

Against his better judgment, he turned his attention to the door and found a pair of familiar blue eyes staring back at him. But they weren't filled with joviality and merriment, as he remembered them. No. There wasn't a single trace of happiness in those eyes. There was only ruthless, ravenous hunger, accompanied by a feral creature with blood dripping from its claws and teeth.

Hermione followed Theodore from one end of the castle to the other, feeling something strange in her chest. It wasn't pain. It was…alertness. She ignored the feeling, mistaking it for adrenaline, and continued onward. Their speed dwindled down to a hurried walk, as they reached the foot of the largest staircase in the castle.

She clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes dancing across the marble floor. There were bodies. Everywhere. Some torn apart. Some missing several limbs.

Something had attacked these guards. Something large and ferocious.

Theodore sensed her change and placed on a hand on her upper back to urge her forward. "We need to keep moving."

She tried to ignore the bodies and the building feeling in her chest. "Hold on —"

"What is it?" he demanded.

"There — There's something wrong," Hermione blurted. "I can feel it. I —I —"

Her words came to an end, as something sounded from the dungeons. First there was a growl, followed by a scream. Male. Definitely male.

Instead of urging her forward as he'd been doing the entire way, Theodore glanced at the entrance to the dungeons. His face blanched. "I think that was —"

"Draco," Hermione breathed, horror-stricken. She nudged past Theodore and made way for the dungeons. "We need to help him!"

"Hold on!" The wizard grabbed her by the shoulders. "I'll help him."

"But —"

"Find Cissy," he interjected. "If you don't, she's going to die."

The seriousness in his eyes cemented her task. It was the worst case scenario. She had one of two choices: save the man she loved or save her daughter. There was a clear winner between the two, but the decision still left her shaking with panic. Hermione nodded once, fiercely wiping the tears from her eyes, and carried on in the direction Nott pointed.

It was into another corridor, one that was located in the western wing of the castle. There were windows in places, but she couldn't see the moon or the stars, as the castle was still submerged underwater.

She closed her eyes a moment and kept running, feeling the curls in her hair ripple behind her, whisked from her shoulders. It was the fastest she had ever moved. There was so much on the line, so much she couldn't risk losing.

Hermione raced through the corridor, to the very end and made way to open the last door. It was large and wooden, and exactly how Theodore had described. She grasped the handle and pulled, using every bit of strength she could muster. It was surprisingly heavy, and according to him, could not be opened with magic. It was sheer will that would open this door.

And so she gave it her all.

The energy dissipated from her bloodstream faster than she could count, and in the last moment, her body tumbled through the door and into a room filled with dust and darkness. Hermione coughed and clasped a hand around her bad ankle. It was still sprained, and her fall hadn't help one bit.

"Mummy? Is that you?"

Theodore ran into the dungeons, feeling his adrenaline kick in as he jumped over several bodies that littered the doorway. The sound of claws and clinking metal filled his ears. He moved faster and harder, until spotting one particular body near the first cell.

It was Leanne.

But she wasn't dead.

He bent over, forcing her eyes open and watching as her pupils landed squarely on him.

Kill me, she mouthed.

There was a fatal wound on her chest, where it appeared the animal had taken an enormous bite from her. Theodore swallowed hard, overcome with unfamiliar instinct.

"No," he told her. "You'll die slowly. You'll pay for what you've done."

Her eyes watered and then closed, blocking him from further communication. But he didn't care. He merely grabbed the wand from her fallen grasp and moved further into the dungeons, closer to the ruckus.

The imminent danger of what waited for him on the other side only fuelled his fire. Gemma was right. He had to help these people. He couldn't stand by and let them suffer. Perhaps that was the reason behind his going to the flat in the first place. Part of him knew she would be there, and through many months of getting to know Hermione's friends, he knew Gemma of all people would believe him.

Theodore used this newfound purpose and reached the last cell, where a large, beastly creature hovered over its prey. But this was no regular creature. It was a werewolf — a werewolf he had brought to Castle Forbes with hopes that it would take care of the guards for him.

But the man pinned underneath this werewolf was no guard. It was Draco, hanging on by a thread. It appeared the beast had broken through the cell door and attacked him, simultaneously releasing him from the shackles.

Nott slowed his approach, as to not catch the werewolf's attention, and pointed his wand directly at its chest before murmuring a single spell under his breath. A surge of energy shot from the end of his wand and made contact with the feral creature, knocking it back, off its hind legs and into the stone wall.

The fair-haired man inside the cell tossed a look into the corridor and met eyes with Theodore, struggling to gather himself.

"Hurry!" Nott shouted, rushing inside to help him.

There was no time to explain, and no need judging by the look on Draco's face. It was clear, right then, that they were on the same page. It was a side effect of being friends for so bloody long, something they hadn't utilized in quite some time.

Draco stumbled, practically crawling on all fours, and dove out of the cell. There were claw marks across his chest and a jagged slice that went diagonal from his left eyebrow to the corner of his lips. By the looks of it, Theodore had arrived just in time.

"We need to leave!" Nott shouted, glancing back at the werewolf, as it slowly regained its strength.

Malfoy struggled to rise from the floor, a hairsbreadth away from passing out. "I — I —" The colour on his face disappeared. "Look out!"

Theodore turned, feeling every part of his body collide against the back wall, with enough force to knock him out cold had it not been for Draco's warning. The wand fell from his grasp. There were claws digging into his flesh, piercing him in places that could never be healed.

He gasped, open-mouthed and feverish. This was it. This had to be it.

The beast growled — bearing all its sharp, blood-stained teeth — before doing as it had to the others.

Nott closed his eyes.

There was warmth in her chest. She almost didn't recognize it, this feeling. She heard a voice. It was a small, delicate voice. It was a voice she feared she would never hear again. It was the voice of her daughter. But something was different about it.

Hermione struggled to stand, finding her equilibrium after several moments, and moved closer to the voice. It was on the other side of the room, where a small light glowed in the corner. A candle. The light was yellowish and covered about four feet in its glow.

Within those four feet, was a little girl. She was so small, so fragile. She blinked slowly, as though there was weight resting on her eyelids, preventing them from staying open. It was then that Hermione realized something was wrong.

"Cissy," she breathed, finding her daughter's side and stroking the hair from her face. "It's me. I — I'm here. I'm here to take you home."

There was a part between the little girl's lips, from where she released a gentle cough. "It hurts…"

Hermione held back the tears that threatened to fall. She had to be strong. She had to put up a brave front. That's what being a parent entailed. That's what her parents had done, whenever she needed them to be strong.

"Wh — Where does it hurt?" she asked, voice breaking.

Cissy motioned to her chest, coughing some more. Hermione carefully opened the buttons on her daughter's dress and saw a blackish network of veins spreading from her heart. It was like a web, and it was growing.

The ritual.

According to Theodore, there were three steps. The first step was extracting blood of the womb — from the mothers. This step had taken its toll on Hermione back in the cave, before the guards had come to take her. The second step was seed of the father. She imagined this was the reason Leanne needed Theodore at all. He was the father of her child. The last and final step involved making an offering to a realm of magic that even the Dark Lord had been known to fear and hold in high regard.

This was the step taking place, before her eyes. Cissy was dying. Her daughter was dying.

Draco watched in horror, as the werewolf pinned Nott against the wall and growled into his face. There was little time to react. It was either he fight through the crippling pain of his wounds and do something, or he watch as one of his friends killed another.

The man reached to his side, where Nott's wand had fallen and fumbled with it, realizing that the feeling was fading from his fingers. He had lost a lot of blood. But he couldn't let this stop him.

Nott choked, groaning in agony.


He had seconds.

Draco hurriedly pointed the wand and fired the first spell that came to mind, feeling the energy branch out and escape through the tip of the wand, taking with it the air from his lungs and the pain in his body. It was fast. It was like that moment in Tuscany, when Fenrir had been on him, threatening to end his life with one move, and in that moment the young man had managed to call upon his inner strength and do what had to be done.

This moment was no different.

"Crucio!" he shouted, knowing this was the only way.

It happened in slow motion.

The werewolf froze, with its jaw hanging open, moments before clamping it down on Nott's throat. The magic came in contact with its spine, rendering the beast still and motionless. There was only one sound, and it was the sound of bones cracking and reforming, as it released the dark-haired wizard and sunk to the floor, reforming into the man that been cursed with such a life.

The blood-matted fur faded, leaving freckled skin and a tuft of messy ginger hair atop the man's head. The man shook, violently, either from the curse or from the transformation.

Draco couldn't be certain, but he released the curse right then, and turned to Nott.

"Th — Thank you," Theodore told him, clutching at the fresh wounds on his body. "I — I didn't think you —"

"I don't know what's going on or why you're here, but I need you get him out of this castle," Draco demanded, pointing to Ron's naked form. "Now."

The dark-haired wizard nodded, approaching their weakened ally.

Draco watched, puzzled by what happened, and then turned to leave before pausing in his step. "Wait —"

"They're in the room across from the dungeons," Theodore interjected, reading his thoughts. "The room furthest down the corridor. It's a big wooden door — hard to miss. Hurry."

There was no time to thank him or to question the events that had taken place. Draco nodded his head before breaking into a sprint. He passed over several bodies, one of which belonged to Leanne, but he didn't stop running. He couldn't stop. He had to keep going.

The bodies didn't stop at the dungeons. There were more outside, in the entrance. Countless bodies. He could only imagine what Ron would feel after finding out what he had done, whilst in wolf-form. It was a fate worse than death, in Draco's opinion. But his thoughts soon shifted elsewhere, as he raced through the corridor and reached the large, wooden door.

It was ajar.

The man pushed it open wider and at first, saw nothing.

It was a strange thing, being dead. It grasped and grappled your insides, until all that remained were memories. There were no feelings to be had or sounds to be heard. Just memories. Some were good. Some were bad. But all carried with them, the constant reminder that someone somewhere was thinking about you.

That is what Harry had learned, upon his death.

The spirits of the deceased could only be called upon from pure, unadulterated emotion, otherwise known as love.

Hermione didn't know it, but Draco had called upon Harry for her, hours ago, after she had nearly crossed the line into death. That man's love was powerful, almost crippling in the way that it urged Harry to help. It was unfortunate that he had not known such a good, kindhearted side to Draco during his life, but even in death it was a pleasure to know ones enemies could change.

And now, in the wake of another tragedy, Harry could feel that same love wrap around him and coax him to do something he had never done.

Hermione was there.

He could feel her presence, her essence.

But it wasn't the same as last time. Her spirit wasn't immersed in a field of lavender flowers. It was hidden in the depths of a place Harry had never dared cross. The others called the The Abyss. It was where darkness came from. It was where he imagined Tom Riddle had gone, after death. Each fragment of his soul.

There were chills all around him as he crossed over, into a deep, dark forest with trees as tall as the clouds and movement beneath the ground. It felt as though he was walking on a burial site, where bodies had been buried alive, and were now fighting to come back and swallow him whole.

The young man kept moving, sensing Hermione's spirit drawing closer and closer, until he noticed something in the distance. It was small and it appeared to be glowing.

Harry broke into a jog, inching closer and closer to the tiny glowing object, until he realized it was a person. Stillness found him, as he rounded the clearing and laid eyes on the witch in front of him,

"You're not Hermione," he remarked, watching as a little girl glanced up at him.

She had Hermione's wild, curly hair, but the colour was different. It was pale blonde, like someone else Harry had known in his life. This was no ordinary little girl. This was Cissy Malfoy. This was Hermione's daughter.

Her bright, youthful eyes regarded him with caution and then…familiarity. "I know you," she spoke in a soft voice. "You're the man in Mummy's school pictures."

Something warm erupted in Harry's chest, and he kneeled down, across from the girl. "I'm Harry Potter," he introduced. "I went to Hogwarts with your mother. We were good friends. Best friends."

Cissy stared at him for a long time. Her eyes danced across his messy black hair and over his forehead, towards his scar. "Did you know my Daddy?"

"I did."

"Was he your friend, too?"

There was a hitch in Harry's throat before he settled with a nod. "I'm very thankful to your father, for everything that he's done to look after you and your mother."

The little girl smiled. "I like you."

Harry returned her smile and chuckled a bit, holding out his hand. "How about we go for a walk? This place gives me the shivers."

The smile on Cissy's face vanished and she glanced down. "I can't leave here."

"Why is that?" he asked.

She sniffed, avoiding his eyes. Something had changed within her. A single tear rolled down her cheek. "Because I'm dead."

Harry breathed in and then out, finding his place beside her. "If you were dead, I wouldn't have been able to find you."

"What do you mean?" Cissy questioned, a glimmer of hope in her voice.

"The love your parents have for you is what's keeping you alive," he explained. "I can feel it all around me. It's what guided me here, to you. Do you know why?"

She looked to him, moist-eyed and eager to know the truth. "Why?"

"Because your parents need you," he furthered, placing an arm around her shoulders. "And they've asked me to come find you and tell you to go back."

"But — But how do I go back?" Cissy asked, blinking repeatedly, confused in the most endearing way possible.

Harry couldn't help but smile. "Just close your eyes and think of your happiest, most cherished memory. Can you do that?"

The little girl fiercely nodded, as though he'd tasked her with climbing Mount Everest. "I can do that," she told him, excited beyond comprehension. "I — I can do that."

Her eyes closed, squeezed tight as she followed his instruction. It was perhaps the cutest and simultaneously most heartbreaking thing Harry had ever witnessed. To find a child in The Abyss was beyond his worst nightmare. In fact, he wasn't entirely sure she would be able to escape, but as she thought longer and harder of her happiest memory, she began to fade, as Hermione had not too long ago.

Harry reached into his pocket and hurriedly placed something in Cissy Malfoy's lap, watching with wide, tearful eyes as she disappeared.


The others had retreated to their separate homes, leaving Hermione at the foot of her daughter's bed. It felt as though an eternity had come and gone since the wedding, since her daughter was kidnapped. The entire time, Hermione fought the voice inside her head that told her Cissy would never be found. She held onto her hope with fierce determination. Hope was all that kept her going.

Even then, with Cissy sound asleep in her bedroom, surrounded by countless gifts and toys and greeting cards from all over the wizarding community, Hermione couldn't shake the worried feeling from her chest.

Her daughter hadn't been the only one to suffer. There was also Severus and Ron and Louise and Gemma, and even Theo. She thought distantly of Theo, of the man that helped her beyond her wildest expectations. Without him, they would never have found their daughter and rescued her from Leanne. He made it all possible, and he did so without anything in return. She would be forever grateful to him, but she couldn't give him what he wanted. She couldn't lie to herself anymore.

Hermione turned, hearing the door open from behind, and found Draco standing there. He leaned against the frame with a couple glasses of wine in hand.

"I figured we could both use a drink," the wizard explained, entering the room and handing her one of the glasses, before conjuring a chair for himself.

She took a sip. "Sangiovese."

"Straight from Tuscany," he winked.

The brunette snorted with laughter. "Subtle."

Draco feigned a look of complete and utter shock, but ended up laughing with her. "You can't blame a bloke for trying."

"No," she decided. "But I can do this."

Hermione set down the glass on one of Cissy's nightstands and placed both hands on either side of Draco's face, before pulling him in for a gentle kiss. It was light and feathery, and left both of them with butterflies in their stomachs, as though they had transported through time, back to their teenaged years.

That was the thing about him, about Draco. He made her feel in ways she couldn't describe. It scared her, at first, back when they were eighteen and stupid, but she eventually realized the love between them wasn't scary, not at all. It was beautiful. Without it, they would never have found the strength to take on Tom Riddle. Without it, they would never have created Cissy.

The glass slipped from Draco's grasp, falling to the hardwood floors and shattering into thousands of pieces. He sucked in a sharp breath and reluctantly separated. "Damn it —"

Hermione couldn't help but laugh, watching as he fumbled with his wand to clean up the mess. She turned around, making motion to grab her wand do the work on her own, before noticing something. Her eyes drifted to Cissy's other nightstand, on top of which rested fairytale books (and Hogwarts, A History because, really, one was never too young to read that masterpiece) and something else.

Around twenty-four hours ago, when Hermione and Draco had been hovering over their daughter's dying body, their prayers had been answered. It was a miracle, or rather, it was the work of the only person Hermione trusted with such a task. Cissy came back to them and on her lap rested a Golden Snitch. Neither Hermione nor Draco felt the need to ask questions, as they were overcome with too much relief and happiness to care, but this particular item had since been poking at Hermione's subconscious like a thorn.

Something about it had changed.

"Draco," she called. "Draco, come here."

The wizard bobbed his head up, having taken care of the spill. "Hmm?"

"Come look at this," Hermione told him, motioning for him to join her.

Draco waited a moment, before he found her side and followed her line of vision. The look on his face went from curious to confused to astonished. He reached over and held the Golden Snitch between them. It was open, but that wasn't the shocking part.

"Our engagement rings," he voiced. "I — I thought we lost them in Tuscany."

Hermione shared his astonishment. "We did."

Draco rubbed the back of his head. "How is this…I…what?"

"It must have been Harry," she whispered. "Before — Before I left him, he told me something."

"What did he tell you?"

The brunette thought back to her moment in the field of lavender flowers. She closed her eyes, imagining the sight and scent and the voice of her best friend. "He told me congratulations."

The atmosphere changed. Draco shifted his gaze forward, to the woman in front of him. There was depth in his eyes, allowing her passage into his soul, into the thoughts running through his mind. The same thoughts were running through hers. She had imagined this moment for quite a long time. It sometimes came to her in her sleep. But most of the time, it was in the air between them, when he looked at her or did something as simple as speak her name.

There was nothing in the world that consumed her like the sound of her name on his lips.

Draco lifted the engagement rings from the Golden Snitch and held them in the palm of his hand.

Hermione glanced down, laying eyes on them for the first time in almost five years. The rings were lost in their villa. She remembered searching for them day and night, with Draco reminding her she was pregnant and shouldn't be straining herself searching for something as replaceable as a couple rings. But she saw him search for them, too, when he thought she wasn't looking. The rings, of course, were never replaced, seeing as they had divorced less than a year later.

But things had since changed.

"I guess this means Harry wants us to get back together," Hermione whispered, looking to her former husband with twinkling eyes. "I — I want it, too."

There was a shift in Draco's expression. It was difficult to categorize at first, but the look on his face went from overwhelmingly touched to overwhelmingly amused. "That's how you're going to propose?"

Hermione's mouth shot open and she breathed out, releasing a tiny laugh. "You want me to propose?"

Draco flashed her an obvious look, a familiar yet humorous smirk tugging at his lips. "I did it last time."

She folded her arms, returning his smirk, fully prepared to counter his argument, before it came to her. The witch got down on one knee with his engagement ring in hand, acutely aware of the shock on his face. It was clear he didn't actually expect her to do it, but that only made her want to do it more.

Hermione cleared her throat, holding his left hand in hers, with her eyes planted firmly on his. "Draco," she started. "My dearest, Draco." The brunette paused, stifling the laugh that tickled her throat before finding her composure. She could see that he had done the same. "To say it has been an adventure, would be an understatement. I — I remember the first time I saw you. It was in our First Year at Hogwarts. I was, against my better judgment, trying to make friends with some Slytherin girls, thinking House Teams were just for fun. Needless to say, I had been proven wrong." The memory still made her cringe, twelve years later. "But…before that…before those girls told me to make friends with people in my own House…I noticed someone." She blinked once, cursing herself internally for actually getting emotional. "It was a boy…a handsome boy with hair the colour of the moon and eyes that made me blush the most violent shade of red. I knew right then that I wanted those eyes to look in my direction. In fact, I tried," she admitted, never having told him this story before. "I purposefully sat near him in Potions Class and raised my hand to answer questions, even when I wasn't one hundred percent sure of the answers, hoping that, one day, he would look at me with the same admiration." Hermione glanced down a moment, taking one deep breath after another, before finding the strength to continue. "I — I learned the hard way that sometimes these…these crushes…don't turn out the way we want them, and for many years I ignored that feeling in my gut and told myself I was being foolish…but…but one day it happened." Draco fell to his knees and wiped the tears from her eyes. This only made her more emotional, seeing the way her confession had equal impact on both of them. "It happened first at the Yule Ball," she continued, sniffing away more tears as he brought her hands to his mouth and kissed each of them on the wrist. "And it happened again a few years later, in a place called the Institute. I…I knew right then that…that I wasn't wrong about this boy…about the man I knew he could become." The atmosphere changed again, deeper. "From that moment, there was so much affection in the way he spoke to me and looked at me, even when we were arguing. I could see it in his eyes. I could hear it in his words. It terrified me, but at the same time it…it made me feel at home, which was something I thought I would never feel again." She fought through the waves of emotion and smiled, feeling her lips tremble. "I — I suppose what I'm trying to say is that — is that there is nothing better in this world than the love we have grown to share. It's limitless. It's unconditional. It's frightening, but only to those who try to come between us…and…and if you would allow it…I…I would love nothing more than to…to spend…the…the —"

Hermione was practically sobbing at this point, holding both hands to her mouth, doing her best to continue, but there was only one thing — only one person — that could give her that sort of strength. Draco pulled her in, wrapping his arms around her waist and neck and shoulder and running his hands through her hair, so passionate, so boundlessly devoted, as he leaned in and captured her trembling lips in a kiss.

It was instant, the feeling that erupted in her chest. It branched out to her toes and took her breath away, so much so that she had to pull away. Already, their mouths were swollen. She blinked, fighting back the urge to kiss him some more, but only so she could finish what she started.

"Draco Malfoy," she began, combing through his hair and brushing her lips against his as she spoke. "Will you marry me?"

There was nothing left to do. There was nothing left to say. It was written in the way he looked at her, in the way he'd been looking at her for years, even after their separation.

But he said it anyway.

"Yes," Draco whispered, pressing their foreheads. "I love you, Granger."

She smiled against his lips. "I love you, too."


A/N: THANK GOODNESS THIS THING IS OVER. Gosh, am I alone in loving this story but also hating it in equal in measure? haha. I thought it would never end! I don't think I've ever experienced this much anxiety, in terms of writing fan fiction lmao.

Anyway, it's not totally over. There is an epilogue chapter. Give it a read, eh? Either way, I'm so flattered and so glad you've read this story (and the first one) all the way through. It means a lot. It really, really does.

Special thanks to Grovek26 and Esrelda Snape for sticking with me from the beginning! And thanks to all the newcomers, as well. I appreciate every single one of you. It's easy to get distracted and/or lose motivation when writing fan fiction, but readers like ya'll make it worth it. Seriously. Thank you.

SOOO, for those of you who are interested, I'll have an actor/model list posted on my blog tonight, for the new characters that were introduced in this story. I love doing things like that.

Anyway, that's all for now. Thanks again!

Love ya'll.



(P.S. Should I do another Dramione fairytale-type story, or should I give those a rest? lol)