Thanks for being patient! I was playing host to a house-full of family last week during the holiday so it took me a little while to get this finished.

But finished it is! This is it! The final chapter! *Sniffle*

There were a few people who were skeptical about this story being wrapped up in this one chapter, so I hope it doesn't disappoint. This was the ending I had planned all along, so I hope it's satisfactory.

I still don't own anything, and please forgive any mistakes you find.

Hope you enjoy :)

I became aware in my still-half-asleep state that I was feeling a little chilly, so I wiggled across the bed, searching for the warm body that I knew had been there earlier. I reached out with my hand, expecting to find a comforting arm to wrap myself up in, but instead of soft flesh, I ended up with a fistful of cold sheets. That disappointment brought me fully awake.

"George?" I said, my voice soft and raspy after hours of disuse. There was no answer.

I reached across the bed, stretching out until my fingers found the edge of the mattress, and I frowned when I realized that I was completely alone. Sitting up and looking around, I saw that the bedroom door was open just a crack and there was a faint sliver of light coming through. I knew that George might have just gotten up for a glass of water, but the total silence of the flat filled me with an inexplicable uneasiness so, I crawled out of bed and padded barefoot out of the room.

The light grew brighter as I walked down the hall, and I soon found that it was coming from a nice, crackling fire that had been built in the fireplace in the living-room, and that's where I found George. He was sitting on the couch, hunched forward with his elbows resting on his knees, and his hands clasped together in front of him, his entire body completely still. He was staring into the flames and, though he wasn't making a sound, there was a steady stream of tears trailing down both cheeks, the wetness on his face shimmering with the reflection of the soft, orange light from the fire. My breath caught painfully in my chest at the sight of him.


He jumped slightly, immediately bringing an arm up and using the back of his wrist to wipe the moisture away from his face. "Hey, um--" He paused to clear his throat. "Sorry. I didn't hear you get up."

"Are you alright?" I asked, slowly and tentatively.

"Absolutely spiffing," he said and then gave me a weak smile. "Can't you tell?"

I made my way across the room and sat down beside him on the sofa. "Do you want to talk about it?"

George seemed to consider that for a second, but then he just shrugged his shoulders.

"That's okay," I said, scooting closer to him. "We don't have to talk." I reached out and grabbed his hand from where it was resting in his lap and I brought it to my lips, placing a gentle kiss against his knuckles. "We can just sit here."

George's eyes watched me from under his ginger fringe, one corner of his mouth turning up just the tiniest bit when I kissed his hand, and then, with our hands still clasped together, we both turned our heads and stared into the fire.

"Have I mentioned," George began, after several minutes had passed, "that I haven't had a single night of uninterrupted sleep since the night of the final battle?"

I shifted in my seat to look at him once again. "No," I said, gently shaking my head. "I didn't know that."

"You remember that night you found me having a nightmare on the couch downstairs?"

I nodded, recalling the pitiful way he'd trembled and cried out in his sleep, begging someone not to leave him. "Is that why you're up? You're still having nightmares?"

George sighed, his shoulders slumping as he did. "Every night. Always about Fred." He paused for a moment and I watched as his gaze traveled to our intwined hands. When he spoke again, his voice was much softer. "Until tonight, anyway."

When he noticed my puzzled expression, he dropped his gaze to the floor and took in a deep, shaky breath before he began to explain himself. "Started out the same, of course. The explosion. The debris. Seeing Fred lying on the ground under all those stones... dead." George's eyes had filled with fresh tears and he raised his free hand to wipe away the few that had escaped. "But this time--" he began again, his voice cracking and then dropping to a whisper, "--this time it was you, too. You and Fred were both lying there and there was nothing I could do for either of you." He finally turned so that he was looking me directly in the eyes. "I lost Fred, like I always do in my dreams, but this time, I lost you too."

I tried to swallow over the emotional lump in my throat; I opened my mouth to try to say something, anything, but, for possibly the first time in my life, I was at a complete loss for words. His pain was so palpable--so deep--that I felt there was nothing I could say to ease it. Feeling hopeless, I removed my hand from his and reached up, using my thumbs to brush his tears away even as my vision was becoming blurry with tears of my own.

"Need you," he said simply, eyelids fluttering shut as he nuzzled at my palm with the side of his face. "Love you." We both froze, and George opened his eyes again, watching me carefully, trying to gauge my reaction as he repeated himself in a soft whisper. "I love you."

Something seemed to burst inside my heart at that moment, flooding me with overwhelming feelings of pain and sympathy, comfort and trust, sorrow and joy, compassion and need and love--yes, definitely love--and it suddenly didn't matter that I didn't know the right words to comfort George, because he loved me. He loved me and I loved him and showing him what I was feeling was now the most important thing in the entire universe. So I kissed him.

I kissed him with everything I had (and probably a little more) and I wasn't worried about how he would respond because he was already kissing back with a frenzied desperation that easily out-rivaled the kiss we'd shared against the wall downstairs.

And then he pulled back.

"Wait," he said, breathing heavily as he tried to put some distance between us, something that was rather difficult for him to do since I only moved closer and continued to kiss him. "When I said I need you... I just meant... Ohh--" his neck arched slightly as I pressed a kiss to the tender spot where his jaw met with the bottom of his ear, "--I didn't necessarily mean... Hermione..." He trailed off, seeming to have a difficult time concentrating, but when I pulled away, just long enough to shift in my seat to get a better angle, he took advantage, grabbing me by the shoulders and pinning me against the back of the couch so that I couldn't reach him.

"Now, sit still for just a minute," he said, laughing. "I can't think properly with you kissing me like that."

"What is there to think about?" I asked, struggling in vain against his hold. "I want to do this."

He quirked a curious eyebrow at my eagerness. "You want to do what, exactly?"

"This," I said, motioning between us as if that should be enough to explain what I meant. When he made no moves to return his lips to mine, I sighed and continued. "Everything."

"Everything," he repeated slowly, and then his eyes widened with realization. "E-everything? Hermione, if this is just some misguided attempt to console me or something, I'm already feeling better so we really don't have to--"

"I know," I interrupted. "But I want to," I said and when he still looked hesitant, I added, "I love you, too, George."

His eyes went even wider. "What? Since when?"

"Well," I began, with a nervous little laugh, "I've known since Tuesday night when I realized I couldn't look at a carrot without it reminding me of you."

George watched me for a moment, a thoughtful (and amused) expression on his face, before finally saying, "I honestly have no idea how to respond to that."

"Good," I said, my attention already refocusing on his mouth. "Because I really think you need to be doing a little less talking and a little more having your wicked way with me," I blurted that last part out, quoting his earlier words without even thinking of what I was saying, and I clapped a hand over my mouth in surprise at myself, my cheeks flushing as George's confused expression gave way to a sly grin.

"Well who am I to deny my darling little wifey of anything...?" he said, letting his voice fade away as he pulled my hand from my mouth and slowly closed the gap between us.

We kissed again, slowly and sweetly, savoring those first few moments after our confessions of love, but the kiss quickly progressed into something deeper and more demanding, and soon lips were seeking out necks and ears and collarbones and then we were horizontal on the couch; hands clutching at hands, fingers tugging on hair and grasping at the thin fabric of pajamas, and I think that might have been the point when George lost his shirt but everything was so warm and hazy and utterly fabulous that I really wasn't sure of much of anything. Except that I wanted more of it all.

"George," I said, and it came out in a breathy whisper that I hadn't even known I was capable of producing.

"Love you. So beautiful," was the equally-breathy response that was whispered directly against my ear, and I shivered.

And then I heard a gentle whooshing sound, and for a moment I thought it was just the blood rushing and pounding in my head from the excitement of everything I was experiencing, but the whoosh grew louder and I turned my head to the side just in time to see the flames in the fireplace glow bright green. The next few seconds passed in chaos, with George falling to the floor in surprise at my screams as I watched a tall figure stumble out of the fireplace, coughing slightly as he stood and dusted the soot from his clothes and from his shaggy, ginger hair...

"Nice dismount, Georgie," Fred said, chuckling even as he continued to cough. "Might want to work on sticking your landing, though."

"Bloody hell, Fred," George said, pulling himself from the floor to his feet. "What are you doing?"

"Coming to see you, obviously." Fred stooped over to retrieve the t-shirt which was hanging on one corner of the coffee table, and then tossed it to George. "We really need to talk."

"And it couldn't wait until the morning?" George's hands were busy trying to turn his shirt right-side-out again but here he paused and turned to me. "I swear I made him promise to give advance notice before coming up here."

I nodded at him and then tried to hide my face behind my hair, feeling far too embarrassed to be angry yet.

Fred frowned at his twin. "Unless it's an emergency."

"Is there an emergency?" George asked, tugging his shirt on and looking slightly worried now.

"Well, what I have to say only affects the outcome of the rest of my life. Is that important enough for you?" Fred said, looking rather annoyed. "And, for the record, I didn't mean to interrupt." His face softened and he smiled slightly as he looked back and forth between George and me. "Didn't know I'd walk in on you lot going at it on the couch at 3:30 in the morning. Not that there's anything wrong with a little variety, mind you, but I figured your first night would be spent in that nice, new bed back there." Then his face lit up like he'd just thought of something, and he said, "unless the two of you are trying to christen every room in the place?" He finished with a snort of laughter when he saw the way I was blushing.

George sighed and gave me an apologetic frown before turning his attention back to Fred. "So what's this life-altering situation that we need to discuss?"

Fred's eyes lit up as and he shoved a hand into his pocket, digging around for a moment before producing a few folded up pieces of parchment. "See this, brother dearest?" When George nodded, Fred continued. "This is the key to my eternal happiness!" George and I both raised our eyebrows at him but Fred just smiled and walked around the coffee table, placing the top sheet of parchment in George's hands before taking a seat in the armchair beside the sofa.

"What is it?" I asked, leaning over to get a glimpse of the writing on the page.

George was busy reading so Fred answered for him. "It's from Percy. The marriage law has been repealed." If Fred tried to grin any wider, his face may have split in two.

"Repealed?" I said.

Fred nodded. "Repealed. Revoked. Nullified. Retracted. Terminated. Invalidat--"

"You don't have to marry Millicent," George said, looking over the top of the page and smiling at Fred who was bouncing happily in his seat.

"I don't have to marry Millicent!"

The twins sat there, beaming at each other, completely oblivious to the way my brow was furrowed in confusion. "Wait. If this is true, wouldn't we have heard about it?"

"It just happened, Hermione!" Fred said in an usually perky tone. "Percy thought I should be 'notified immediately'--" he said this in his best pompous-Percy impression, "--because he knows all about my situation with Millicent but the official letters from the Ministry will be sent out first thing in the morning."

"Oh," I said lamely, but then I had another thought and I felt a dull pang in my heart when I looked over at George. "So what does this mean for us?"

George gave me a soft smile and reached for my hand but Fred spoke first.

"Well," he began, "it seems that the ministry is going to allow anyone married under the marriage law to get an annulment. But," he said, leaning forward in his seat and smirking at George and me, "only if they haven't shagged yet. If you've shagged, you've quite literally sealed the deal and your marriage is both legally and magically binding. If you haven't, the ministry will grant you a free pass out of the relationship if you want it."

Fred glanced back and forth between us for a moment with raised, questioning eyebrows but, when he noticed the uncomfortable glances George and I were sneaking at each other, he frowned and dropped the issue.

I gently cleared my throat and tried to look casual before speaking. "Did Percy say why they've decided to revoke the marriage law?"

"Yeah," Fred said, his expression darkening. "The ministry was having such a hard time getting people to accept the stupid law that, apparently, the Minister thought it would help if the officials followed it too. To set an example for the public, you know?"

I nodded, remembering Mr. Weasley mentioning something about that just a few nights earlier.

"And the ministry officials were having none of it, eh?" George said, narrowing his eyes. "Hypocritical gits."

"Mm." Fred nodded his head in agreement. "But it gets worse. Percy says that when the minister's right-hand-man saw who he was matched with, he went completely mental." Fred paused, leaning forward even further in his chair. "You know that 'emergency' dad and Percy were called in to help with earlier tonight? The man was trying to off himself; said he'd rather die than marry whatever old hag they paired him with. All the ministry officials were called in to try to help talk him out of going through with it."

"Wow," George said, with a humorless laugh. "Bit dramatic, innit? To off yourself just because you don't like the bird you're supposed to marry?"

"Yes, well," Fred said, frowning at his brother, "we can't all be as fortunate as you, now can we?" He gave me a wink before continuing. "I, for one, can't say I blame the man."

George snorted incredulously. "What?"

"If we couldn't come up with a permanent solution and I'd been forced to really marry Millicent--" Fred's eyes were wide and he was shaking his head like just the thought was making him feel ill, "--a self-aimed killing curse might start looking like a fantastic option."

George's eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared slightly as he stared at his twin. "Don't be stupid, Fred."

"Hey," Fred said, the cheery twinkle in his eye indicating that he was somehow missing George's change in temperament, "you can't deny that death would be a less painful option than spending your life shackled to someone like Millicent Bulstrode."

George gave an inarticulate grunt and shoved away from the couch, pacing across the room to stand in front of the fireplace with his back to Fred and me. My stomach began to wind into a nervous knot as my gaze followed him, but Fred didn't seem to notice either of us. He was busy, holding both hands out, palms upward, as if he was weighing two options.

"Naked Millicent?" he said, and one hand rose in the air. "Or death?" The first hand dropped while the other rose.

"Fred..." George said, his voice taking on an edge of anger. "Stop it."

"Naked Millicent?" Fred said, laughing and still completely oblivious to the tension that was quickly mounting in the room. "Or sweet, eternal rest?"

George spun on his heel, rounding on his brother. "Fred, shut UP!"

The grin slowly slid from Fred's face as he stared wide-eyed up at George, whose hands were balled into fists, clenching and unclenching at his sides.

"George," I said in a whimper. After seeing what he'd done to that wall in the flat downstairs, I was terrified that he was about to haul off and punch Fred. George's breathing was deep and ragged and when he looked at me, I shook my head, silently pleading with him to stop and think about what he was doing.

Unfortunately, Fred rose to his feet then, now wearing an expression of anger to match that of his twin's and he took a few steps to close the distance between them. He came to a stop directly in front of George, arms crossed over his chest and a scowl firmly fixed on his face.

"Were you honestly just thinking about hitting me?"

George squared his shoulders and straightened up, bringing himself to his full height, but he didn't say anything.

Prompted by his brother's silence, Fred groaned and threw his hands up in exasperation. "Why do I even bother with you these days? You've been moping around like a wounded pup for months and won't talk to me about it; I find out you're actually keeping something from me and then you look me in the eye and lie to me about it; and now you go completely nutters and want to punch me over a stupid joke!"

"Joke?" George said, and his voice was scary in how quiet it was. "A joke was us setting off dung-bombs in the main-hall our first year at school. A joke--" he continued, his voice slowly rising in volume, "--was that time we convinced Ron that mum and dad were going to give him up for adoption. Canary Creams are a joke. Fake wands that turn into rubber chickens are a joke! But you sitting there talking and laughing about your death like it isn't the worst thing that could ever happen to me is bloody well not a joke!"

Fred, looking stunned, tore his gaze away from his twin's eyes long enough to look down at his own chest, where George's finger had been jabbing rather roughly to emphasize the last few words of his rant.

"I'm beginning to think you really have gone crazy," he said, knocking George's hand away and bringing his own up to rub at a spot between his ribcage, wincing as he did so. "Hope I haven't caught it," he added very dryly.

George's eyes widened and then flashed angrily at the insult. "You know what, Fred?" he said, his tone a raw mix of fury and pain. "Sod off. You hold my dead body in your lap and then you can talk to me about what 'crazy' feels like."

I gasped, trying to stifle the sound by clamping a hand over my mouth, but neither Fred nor George noticed it anyway.

"George," Fred said, very slowly. "Whatever I said or did, I'm sorry, alright? Just calm down because you're really starting to scare me now. Hermione?"

It was the first time either of them had addressed me in quite a while and I was too scared to even form a response. No need, though, because Fred didn't wait for one.

"I think we need to get George to St. Mungo's," he said, still not taking his eyes off his brother.

"I'm not sick!" George shouted, jerking away as Fred tried to check his forehead for fever. "And I'm not crazy! Fred, you died!"

"Georgie..." Fred said, and his voice sounded so child-like and frightened that my first instinctual desire was to hug and comfort him. "This isn't funny."

"No, it's not! But you wanted to know what I've been keeping from you all these months and this is it! YOU. DIED. Right in front of me!" George took a deep, shuddering breath and let his head droop, bringing his hands up so he could cradle his face in his palms.

"Hermione?" Fred said, finally turning to look at me.

I mouthed silently for a few seconds, unsure of what to say. "It's-it's true," I finally managed to stutter.

Apparently that wasn't the response he'd been expecting because his eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. "What do you mean 'it's true'!? Look at me!" He motioned at his body with his hands. "Sure I'm a little pale but I'm no ghost! Look!" He reached out and poked George's arm, then he lifted a leg and kicked the coffee table. "I can't walk through stuff; I'm completely alive!"

"Yes, but you were dead," I tried to explain. "The night... the night of the final battle. Fred, you were killed."

"I was de--" Fred began but couldn't seem to complete his thought. Instead, he took a few wobbly steps back towards the armchair and lowered himself to sit on the edge for just a second, but then he popped back up. "People don't just die and then come back! I swear if this is some sort of sick prank I'm never speaking to either of you again for as long as I live."

George was now facing the fireplace again, resting his forehead against the wooden mantlepiece, and when I realized he wasn't going to participate in the conversation again any time soon, I turned my attention back to Fred.

"You don't remember any of it because we used a time-turner to go back and stop it from happening."

"A time-turner? What the bloody hell is a time-turner?"

I thought the name was fairly self-explanatory, but I began to explain anyway, understanding that nothing was making much sense to Fred at the moment. "Time-turners are used to manipulate time. Professor McGonagall gave me one my third year so that I could keep up with all the classes I was taking, and Harry and I used it to save Sirius from being kissed by the dementors." I was rambling and I knew it, but I was so nervous that I couldn't seem to stop myself. "Thankfully, when I returned it, Dumbledore told me he'd keep it in his study for safe-keeping, which means it wasn't destroyed with all the others in the Department of Mysteries."

"Okay, wait," Fred began, staring at me like I'd been speaking Troll. "I died. And you two went back in time and saved me?"

I nodded. "You remember the explosion and the wall that collapsed at the end of the corridor?"


"The first time around, we were standing right under it. You--" I took a deep breath, "--you were the closest. The explosion killed you."

And then everything was silent for several, long minutes.

"So let me get this straight," Fred said, but he wasn't speaking to me now; he had turned and was once again approaching George. "I died," he paused, tugging at his brother's arm until he turned to face him, "and you didn't think I should know about it? You didn't think it was worth mentioning that I should be DEAD right now?" Fred reached up, clutching handfuls of hair on each side of his head as he began to shout. "Merlin, George! All this time you've been clinging to me one minute and pushing me away the next and I've been making myself sick trying to figure out what was going on with you! We tell each other everything; how could you not tell me this!?" Fred let go of his hair so he could roughly drag a hand over his face, and then he practically hissed his next statement. "Selfish bastard."

"S-selfish?" George took a small step back as if Fred had just dealt him a physical blow and the sting of pain he was feeling was clearly etched in every single line and feature of his face. "And what would you have done, then?" His voice was eerily quiet again but I could hear the anger bubbling just below the surface. "You really want to know what happened, Fred? You really want to know what it felt like?"

Fred and I were both silent, watching George carefully.

"I felt it in my gut," he began, determinedly keeping eye contact with his twin. "Before I ever even saw your body, before I ever even realized what was causing that sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, I felt the loss."

George's eyes were red and beginning to glisten and Fred dropped his arms from his chest, letting them hang limply at his sides. He started to say something, but it seemed that George wasn't willing or able to stop now that he'd finally opened the floodgate that had been holding everything back for so long.

"You say the scariest moment of your life was the night I lost my ear and you saw my blood on the ground? Fred, you died in front of me! I rolled boulders away from your body knowing that you would never open your eyes and look at me again. Even if it was only for a few minutes, I had to live with knowing that you'd never pull another stupid prank with me. You'd never bust in my room way too early on the weekends and pester me by bouncing on my bed until I finally get up. You'd never call me 'Georgie' again. We'd never develop new products together or see our second shop get started and we'd never laugh together and I'd never get another chance to tell you that you're my best mate and that I love you with all my heart..." George's voice had dropped to a shaky whisper and he was crying in earnest now, tears spilling down his cheeks and past his jaw, and he made no attempt to wipe them away.

"And I'm sorry if I've been moody lately and if I've confused you by clinging to you one minute and pushing you away the next and I'm sorry for flying off the handle when you talk about dying like it's no big deal, and I'm really sorry that I hurt you by lying to you but, for the first time in our lives, you have no idea what I'm going through!

"I held your dead body in my lap and, Merlin help me, I just wanted to die with you. So you'll have to forgive me if I'm having a hard time forgetting what that felt like." He finished in a harsh whisper and then finally reached up, furiously brushing the tears away with his long fingers. "So," he said, and his voice was suddenly steadier, "if wanting to protect you from feeling what I've been feeling makes me a selfish bastard, then yeah, I guess I am."

Finished with his emotional tirade, George held his chin up, his jaw firmly set and his expression stoic and determined, and I thought, in spite of his puffy eyes and red nose, he looked the strongest I'd ever seen him.

The same could not be said for Fred. He looked whiter than usual and his hands were trembling slightly as he continued to stare at his twin, and I wasn't sure if he was going to hit something or pass out or start yelling again or storm off.

But George was carefully studying his brother's face and he must have known what he was feeling because George opened his arms in invitation, and Fred crashed into him without a second's hesitation. Long limbs wrapped around necks and torsos in a tight, urgent embrace which was accompanied by murmured apologies and two individual sets of sniffles.

I watched as Fred pulled back, grasping George's face with both of his hands. "So sorry, Georgie," he said and then pressed a firm kiss to his twin's temple before moving back in for another hug.

And then I was crying with them, an overwhelming sense of relief flooding through me. After months of keeping secrets, the truth was finally out in the open. After all the pain that George had gone through, he finally had the understanding and the support of the one person I knew could help him deal with it all. Fred and George might have many painful conversations ahead of them, and it might be a long and difficult process, but I could feel that everything was going to be okay.

"Hey, Weasley."

George's voice pulled me from my thoughts and I noticed him staring at me over Fred's arm (which was still wrapped securely around him.) His eyes were still watery but there was a tiny twinkle of true happiness in them, and he was smiling, like he'd been thinking the same thing that I had--that everything was going to be okay now. He jerked his head, inviting me to join them in their intimate circle, and I nodded, wiping my face with the back of my hand as I stood and made my way towards them. He and Fred opened up at the same time, both wrapping an arm around me, pulling me closer, and the three of us stayed that way for quite a long time, until all the sniffling had subsided and everything was quiet.

"...Fred?" George said, his voice muffled because his mouth was resting against the top of my head.

"Yeah?" was Fred's response and it was muffled as well because his face was buried in the crook between his brother's neck and shoulder.

"You know I love you but..."

Fred snorted a laugh. "But you're asking me to leave."

"You don't have to go this second but I am a little anxious to shag my bride."

"George!" I shrieked, trying my best to smack him on the chest.

"What?" he said, innocently. "I can't have you running out and getting an annulment first thing in the morning, now can I?" He kissed the top of my head and I smiled in spite of my embarrassment, comforted in knowing that he wanted to stay married.

"You know," Fred began very slowly as he pulled back from the hug, "I don't have to leave... I mean, two Weasley twins are better than one, am I right?" He waggled his eyebrows at me and then gave George a quick wink.

So I placed a well-deserved smack across his chest, too.

"You're never going to stop saying inappropriate things to my wife are you, Gred?" George said, laughing at Fred's pained expression as he rubbed the place where I'd hit him.

Upon seeing George's smiling face, Fred started smiling too and he rocked up onto the balls of his feet, bouncing lightly. "Afraid not, Forge."

I just shook my head, glaring at the both of them. "You two are absolutely unbelievable."

"That we are!" Fred said, slinging an arm around his twin's shoulders.

"And just think--" George said, wrapping one arm around Fred and reaching out for me with the other, pulling me towards him.

"You're one of us now," they said together, wearing identical grins as they leaned towards me and each pressed a kiss to my cheek.

~*The End*~

And there you have it. All finished! :( Hope it didn't disappoint too many of you! ;P

But, in all seriousness, I'm so glad that people have enjoyed this story and I hope you all enjoyed this final chapter. Really, I wrote this for myself as a way to deal with Fred's death because I was so torn up over the thought of Fred and George being separated.. and now I feel like I can just pretend that this is the way it really happened and that Gred & Forge are together--as happy and flirty and mischievous as ever! :D

And since I know many of you are in that bubble of denial with me, I hope this story has helped fuel your Fred's-alive-I-don't-care-what-anyone-else-says delusions ;)

Don't forget to add me to your Author Alerts list if you want to be notified of my future stories. I should have the Sweet-Talking Sweets one-shot up by early next week at the latest so I hope you guys will check it out. I think I've been having a bit too much fun with that story... It's nice and fluffy and completely angst-free! :P

As always, please review! It makes me so happy to hear that I was able to make someone laugh or get teary-eyed or whatever. Even if you're reading this a year after it's completed, I'd love to hear from any and everyone who's enjoyed the story! Your kind reviews give me the warm fuzzies! :D

Thank you all so much. You've been so lovely and encouraging and utterly fantastic... and I heart you all ;)