Chapter 52

"Careful Hermione." I feel myself saying for what must be the hundredth time in just two short weeks. At least on this occasion I am close enough and quick enough to reach an arm around her waist. Pulling her tightly against my chest to prevent her falling sideways against the hard desk. My other arm comes up to wrap securely around her shoulders when I feel her beginning to slump with exhaustion. The movement does prompt the few books she had been carrying, to clatter to the floor but other than that there are no casualties this time. "That could have been unfortunate."

"Again." She manages to murmur against my chest. Hands clutched in my clothing and I can feel them shuddering with every breath she takes. "Thank you."

With one arm tightening around her I am able to extract the other and pull out the chair, before gently guiding her into it. "Another dizzy spell?" She lands heavily in the seat letting her fingers slowly slide down my arms in a loose grip. I'm so distracted by the movement that I almost miss the slow nod of her head. "You're over doing it again."

Her long sigh is partially muffed as she brings up both hands to push the tips of her fingers into her eyes. "I should be better by now." She says in a somewhat frustrated tone.

My grip closes around the legs of my trousers to pull them skyward before stooping down into a crouch so I can look up at her pale face. "It was quite a nasty curse." I gently rest one of my palms against her covered knee to warn her, before the other runs from her temple over her ear to her crown. She leans into the soft contact, another sigh passing between her lips, displaying her mild pain at the near constant headaches she has been suffering from. "Just give it some time, you should be fine."

Her hands slide down her face and her eyelids look heavy when she pries them open, a tinge of red surrounding her deep irises that I resent having to become accustomed to as of late. "You said that two weeks ago."

"I did." I concede. Of all the people to lack such patience I would never have expected it of my partner in this way, although, it's not as if I have ever been in close proximity to her whenever she has been feeling unwell for extended periods of time before now. "We both know you've been getting better." The statement doesn't make her look any more impressed with the situation. "You can't expect to be running around again over night."

"Yes, yes I can." She is quick to contradict me. "I live in a world of magic and wonders but no one can brew me a potion to make me feel more coordinated."

I wait for a single beat of her heart, so she has enough time to continue to vent the agitation. When I hear nothing but her throat contracting in an audible swallow I speak in a very low, very calm voice. "Ordinarily, you'd be right."

She huffs in what I presume to be either embarrassment or frustration a look of utter defeat clouding her features. Her eyes even roll in their sockets as she sees exactly where this line of conversation could go. "Yes, I know. If I hadn't gone off on an insane adventure with Harry none of this would have happened. You don't have to say it again."

My hands immediately leave her body. That particular discussion had turned rather heated. Her immense bravery and loyalty clashing horns with my overwhelming survival instinct that somehow extends to the people I hold most dear. There were some things that I probably shouldn't have said, or at the very least been able to word differently. I'm still discovering exactly which comments burned her the deepest.

One of my elbows lands on my thigh, my finger gently passing back and forth against my tight lips as I look up at her and she looks down at me, the silence gradually slipping beyond uncomfortable into the realms of overbearing. It's with a heavy sigh that I uncharacteristically break it, dropping my hand down to cross over my other arm. "Harry will always have adventures and people will always follow him." My jaw clenches for a moment and the shiver than runs up my spine forces me to drop my sights to the floor before she can see the dread reflected in my eyes. I even push against my bent legs to be able to stand and leave her personal space. Choosing instead to retrieve the books that have scattered across the carpet. "One day I may make peace with the fact that it always has to be you."

"One day." I can feel her gaze on the back of my head and I can hear the regret in her voice but she'll never change. The friendship between the three is so resilient, forged on moments between life and death. It's completely unbreachable, there is no way that I can put myself into the bond, no way to influence it or guide it in any direction. So where Harry and Ron are concerned I'm blind, helpless. That's what scares me the most. "You don't have to do that." She comments, changing the subject and holding her hand out to be in a gesture for me to stop gathering the texts covering the carpet.

I smile, unseen but still continue to close the books and arrange them into a pile. "It's not an obligation Hermione. I want to." When I stand with the heavy tombs in hand my shoulder rolls of it's own violation, giving a twinge against the exertion, the protest only stopping when I deposit the load down into her trunk. "How do you fit everything in here?"

"Hours of Tetris." She responds in a tone of voice that would suggest she is joking in some fashion but it feels to me that we have slipped into another language entirely. So when I turn my head to send a baffled look over my shoulder she quickly lapses into giggles. "Nothing." Even the shooting pains along her side that she reaches up to sooth aren't enough to take the mirth from her voice. The look I send her way continues but only appears to make her laugh harder at my expense. "It's a muggle thing, I'm sure I'll show you one day. Besides it's not as if all of us can just go out and buy a trunk with an undetectable extending charm."

I'm back on my feet once more, leaning over her to reach for more books to pack away. "No one can, not anymore. It's just not exceptionally difficult to cast."

"No?" Her eyes follow me around the room and by the colour of her cheeks she looks to be recovering much quicker this time. "That's odd because I couldn't find any reference to it in the library."

"No you wouldn't." Very quickly I have to find a distraction, dropping my eyes to the spine of the books as I pile one on top of the others but at no point seeing the words. "Technically it's dark magic. They took it off the curriculum a while back."

"Why?" the curiosity in her voice negates any of my fears that she would find this information disturbing enough for me to cast my eyes over her once more. "It's harmless."

"The spell itself is." I begin slowly watching and waiting for some form of reaction. If anything she is mealy curious and I am long past thinking that her image of me is anything resembling pure, so I forge ahead. "Being undetectable it's easy to abuse the spell." Without any further fear of reproach I straighten my legs and continue my task. Having cleared the desk of her reading material I find my self at her chest of draws, pulling out her neatly folded cloths and piling them in my arms. "There was a Death Eater caught, not that long ago. I think his name might have been Berkley." I stop for a moment, searching my memory for the name that feels like it is right on the tip of my tongue. "Or Barnsley. It doesn't really matter. The point is they found he was carrying a collection of his victim's index fingers around in a matchbox."

"You're kidding." Her face has dropped and that is exactly the reaction I had been dreading. "What am I saying, of course you're not." There is a short pause and that shocked look on her face is directed at the floor not at me so I carry on about the room, as though nothing is amiss. "I wouldn't even think to use a spell like that."

"Typically most Death Eaters and dark wizards have a lot of secrets, concealment charms are useful when you're trying to keep them. So the ministry took most of them off the prospectus. Particularly those they had no way of being able to identify." I say closing the lid on her trunk and sweeping my eyes around the small barren room one more time for anything I may have missed. When I have nowhere else I can possibly look, without raising suspicion I rest them back on Hermione, who has spent the considerable silence watching me. Waiting to see if I might continue in a direction that might be more personal, something that I have no intention of doing at the moment. "I think that's everything."

She takes a deep breath and seems to have to shake herself out of her stupor, sensing the deflection but not brining it up in any way. "Yes. How did you mange that so fast without magic?" She pauses only long enough to see my shoulders pull into a lethargic shrug. "You do realise that I'm going to ask you to help pack every year, don't you?"

At the very least it does give some indication that I will still be welcome in this room for years to come. "I think I can live with that."


I've never been one for trains. It's always so slow, hours and hours cooped up in a small space, usually surrounded by people that I could barely wait to be away from. Only to spend six weeks in a household that scared or sometimes even starved me half to death. It was very difficult to decide exactly which was the lesser of those two evils. The train ride back to Kings Cross station was always the one joining factor between the two states of my existence, possibly the worst time of the year for me.

This year is different. On so many levels it's difficult to see them all, even from the epicentre. All those years that I would much have preferred to floo home and have the agonising journey over and done with in a heart beat are but a fuzzy memory. In its wake there are these people surrounding me, all in various states of relaxation.

Hermione, leaning against my side in a very easy embrace shifting every now and then, whenever she comes across something in the Daily Prophet. Ron and Harry berating each other over game after game of wizard's chess. Ginny using every other remark as an excuse to make her elder brothers ears turn red in either anger or embarrassment over her copy of the Quibbler of all things. Even Neville's presence doesn't grate against my nerves, not that I know the boy well enough but the way he is stroking the plant placed carefully on his lap, should resemble something unsettling. Somehow he manages to make the adoring interaction with the plant endearing.

I almost don't want it to end. I never want to stop watching these people interact with each other. There are no hidden meanings to anything they say. No awkward silences as one waits for the other to respond first. No serious threats of bodily harm or death, beyond the odd profanity from one of the Weasley siblings, usually towards each other. It's all just so easy, so carefree that it is indeed a pleasure to watch.

The only thing that stops me from attempting to freeze this moment in time so I might enjoy it forever, is the thought that at the end of this pleasant journey there's no tyrant waiting for me. Just my elder brother with his stupid jokes and his warm loving family, where I can accept his kindness at face value without looking for the source of my own terror just beneath the thin surface.

I more feel than hear Hermione's deep sigh, her hand reaching out to cover my knee and her paper folds haphazardly on her lap. "You're quiet." She all but whispers and had my senses not been so sensitive I might not have heard her at all.

"Just thinking." I reply casually watching Ron move his rook into position and it looks as though he may have won the game again.

She takes the time to fold her paper neatly and rest it on the seat close to her thigh, giving me her undivided attention. "What about?"

"Just how things have changed."

"You mean how you've changed?" That particular sentence has my gaze drawn to hers in less than the blink of an eye.

My forehead creases into a frown. "I haven't changed." I contradict but I can feel the bitter taste against my tongue that is always provoked when I lie to her unintentionally. Where I concede that my attitude and perception of the world around me has changed, dramatically in certain regards, I find it hard to believe that this extends into my physical presence. Or for that matter how I interact with those around me. If anything in recent weeks I have reverted back to many of my old ways, since Hermione might as well have given me permission that afternoon with Nancy.

"You have." She insists. "In so many subtly ways."

Clearly my memory of the school year differs from hers. "For example?"

When she answers it's immediate. No hesitation, not even in the tone of her voice. "Just a moment ago you told me what you were thinking about." She pauses and lets a smile pull across her face. "And we didn't even have to fight about it." Her face then drops into a look of shock, which quickly melts into quiet laughter that I have no choice but to imitate.

"You're also not as scary as you used to be." Ginny pipes up from the other side of the carriage. Her magazine pulled down so I can see most of her face over the top of the pages.

I don't exactly appreciate the thought that I am being ganged up on by these two. Again. "So Dean Thomas." I shoot right back. "Isn't he a bit pedestrian for you."

When the glossy pages she had been holding land in her lap forgotten, I might as well concede that she has just accepted the challenge. One that I'm pretty certain I hadn't meant it issue. "Changing the subject is against the rules."

"There are rules now?" I ask with confusion pulling a frown across my face.

"There are always rules." She responds flapping one hand near her face in a dismissive gesture. "I just don't always tell you what they are."

My mouth opens to respond and I'm so invested in this conversation that I feel myself lean forward ever so slightly, forcing Hermione to sit up straighter in her seat to avoid being caught in the line of fire. Unfortunately my witty retort is intercepted as Neville quietly asks: "You don't think she's scary?"

"I never said that." Ginny says turning towards the boy but still using her flailing hands to indicate me. "She is fucking terrifying."

"Ginny." Hermione says in a low voice of reprimand.

The redhead all but ignores her and continues. "It's just not as bad as it used to be."

"And you don't have that…" Ron pipes up, never taking his eyes away from the game with Harry so he cannot hope to see the scathing look I send in his direction. "Attitude all the time. You know, the really arrogant one."

"Now wait just a minuet." My voice sounds scandalised because it is categorical that I am now being ganged up on. By the very people who, until recently I had contemplated freezing this moment for eternity with. Suddenly rethinking that course of action.

"And you actually take part in conversation now a days." Harry finally pipes up, having lost interest in the battling pieces in favour of sending a grin in my direction, which shows absolutely no sign of wavering when Ron moves his knight to trample his queen. This, right here, must be what Tartarus feels like. "Instead of sitting there quietly, judging everyone."

"I wasn't judging." I counteract without thinking about it.

Ginny leans forward in her seat, her frown and smile locked in a furious battle to be the dominant expression on her face. "Are you shitting me?"

"Ginny!" Hermione once more enters the fray to chastise the younger girl for her language. Her voice losing it's hard tone, instead trying to force back her laughter. Making absolutely no effort to come to my rescue I hasten to point out.

I try to come up with some collection of words to defend myself because it's true. I have judged them. Quietly, behind closed doors and found them lacking. It never occurred to me that they paid enough attention to even notice the thought flittering across my face. Let alone making a silent pact not to speak of it, until right now apparently. "Well…" I begin and only when the word passes between my lips do I realise that I have no way of finishing that sentence.

Somehow, being invaded by a goddess while simultaneously contracted what is possibly the most socially debilitating disease in the magical world has put me ahead when it comes to luck because I am saved by a quiet tapping against the glass to the carriage.

Without waiting for a response Nancy slides open the door and pushes only her head between the space it affords. Trying to invade the conversation without acutely entering the cart.

All laughter and comments at my expense stop as each pair of eyes turn towards the intruder. Each one more confused than the last, making my fellow Slytherin more than just a little uncomfortable. She clears her throat quickly and meets my eye. "Can I have a word?"

Had it been Hades himself coming to lead me down into the murky underworld, I'm sure in this moment I would have followed him. "Oh, by the gods yes." I say already awkwardly standing in the small space and having to step over several pairs of feet as I make a hasty retreat.

Ginny is far from done. "Look boys. We've got her on the run." There are some muffled titters and that short comment convinces me that I am in for much of the same treatment after this short respite. "See not quite as scary." Are the last words to be heard, before I slide the door closed.

Nancy's lips are pressed to tightly together that I wouldn't be surprised if she starts biting her lip just to suppress her giggles and she is completely unable to meet my eye. "Well that was interesting."

"For you maybe." I say

There is a long pause as I afford her time to compose herself but nothing can pull that smirk from her face as she looks through the glass divide towards my group of friends who have all fallen silent to watch intently how we interact with each other. "They don't know, do they?" I don't answer her for several moments and she uncharacteristically becomes impatient very quickly. "What you are. They don't know."

"They don't need to."

"Don't they?" Her head snaps in my direction catching and holding my eyes in hers. "'Cause from where I'm standing, I don't see that it can do you anything but good."

"They don't need to know." I repeat with a little more force behind my voice. It's difficult to explain but Nancy will interact with me because she thinks she has to. She thinks that by doing so she has already chosen the winning side, that when all this is over she'll come out on top. They stay in my company in spite of my disease not because of it. It's my first taste of true friendship and I am loath to give that up just yet. Should it come up they will know, until then it just isn't necessary.

Nancy holds both of her hands open and up in a universal sign of surrender. "They won't hear it from me."

My arms cross over my chest, clearly a defensive gesture and her eyes flick down, not only to observe it but also to broadcast to me that she has. "I take it that isn't why you're here." I begin, trying to get her back on topic so I can be done with this conversation, which is entirely too public for me to be comfortable with.

"I didn't tell him." She says, lifting a hand to vaguely gesture towards my shoulder. "About your, urm. Miraculous recovery." The words put my on edge, forcing me to glance both ways down the carriage to ensure we are alone, even though both my sense of smell and hearing had confirmed that for me anyway. "Snape doesn't know, I didn't tell him. I needed you to know that."

This particular line in the discussion prods at me in a none to pleasant way, lifting my lip in an irritated sneer. "Really, because it appeared to me that he knew quite a bit."

"Not from me." Her voice turns earnest. "Look, he seemed to think I was out in the forest with you. I just didn't bother to correct him."

That does make sense. Memories are known to merge within someone's mind when under excessive stress or when any sort of trauma is involved. Even when probed it's hard to pull them apart to see how they have melded together. It's with a deep breath that I concede this point, running my hand through my hair. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Well there are two reasons actually." She stops, wetting her lips with the tip of her tongue until I raise my eyebrows in a bid to have her continue. "Firstly, I saw that look on your face. Just afterwards and I never, what to know what it meant, I never want to know what you were thinking."

I nod along with this. "And the second?"

In that moment her face changes, from that of a freighted girl straight into the calculating mind that I helped to create. It happens in an instant and had I not been looking so intently I would have missed the transformation. "I still need you to get me out of this pit that I seem to have landed in."

"So we're back to that?" I can feel the exasperation in my voice, she wants out of this tangled web of dark magic and this subtle form of blackmail is only skimming the surface of how far she's stoop to get what she wants. "These things take time."

"You've had time." Her response is clipped and imitate. All at once we are not two girls caught together in circumstances. We both know something about the other that neither of us want revelled and we'll both fight tooth and nail to make sure we get what we want because of it.

"Yes, lots of time." My demeanour changes, so does my stance, even my speech pattern. It's so easy to fall back on these old habits when provoked; it takes no more trouble or thought than shedding and donning a cloak. It probably helps that I have been doing both for just as long. "Locked away in a tiny room away from the rest of the world, with my post being intercepted and a guard at my door." I take a moment to cast my eyes along the length of her, just to drive that meaning home. "Tell me, how much do you expect me to accomplish under those restraints."

"Not a lot." She concedes but it looks as though it leaves a sour taste in her mouth to do so. "Things change, I don't see what the hold up is now."

It feels like she is insinuating that I'm not up to this task. For the moment it may be true but that doesn't mean I haven't thought about it. "There isn't one."

"No, thought not." She makes to move past me but instead leans closer. "Now we're on an even keel." She steps forward to pass me, bumping her shoulder into mine as she passes. The message ringing clear, she'll keep my secrets so long as I nullify hers. "Remember that Desay." She shoots over her shoulder without even turning around.

"I'm not likely to forget." I murmur between gritted teeth, far to low for her to be able to hear. After only having a few second to compose myself I pull once more on the siding door and enter the silent carriage. Puling a smile over my face that must look as fake as it feels, trying to negotiate my way between the series of legs and feet back to my seat.

"That didn't look like it went well." Ginny says a moment later, the first to brave breaking the silence.

"Don't know what you're talking about." I respond, searching for that joyous mood I had been so quick to leave behind. I'd take any comment they care to throw at me if only to dissolve the tension. "Nancy and I are as thick as thieves these days." Quite literally. Considering we have been forced into an uneasy truce that dictates that we must trust each other to keep both of our secrets buried.

I hope not but I may just live to regret this alliance.


It would be an understatement to say that platform 9 ¾ was crowded. Students, parents, even extended family. All mingled together beside the bright red train. Had I not specifically equipped myself for this moment I find it likely that I might just collapse to the floor clutching my skull. Even after extensively mentally preparing it's beginning to make my eyes twitch in a maddening rhythm. One day I might just get used to there overbearing senses. Although I doubt it will be any time soon.

What is left of the Weasley horde are very quickly swept up in the arms of their parents, in a moment that I would prefer not to intrude on. Passing by both Alistair Moody and Remus Lupin as I do. The former I only offer a short nod in recognition and after a long cold stare it is recurrently returned. The latter is a whole different matter. The man, to the best of my knowledge has never had a problem with eye contact so it doesn't surprise me when my gaze passes over the deep wrinkles into those pools, then I become ensnared. Something passing between both of us, I can see he feels it too by the high lift of his brow. It's a long, drawn out moment and I can feel something deep in my chest burning. Fighting and tearing at me until the moment he lowers his gaze to the floor.

I don't know what it is, all I know is that upon seeing this action my back straightens all the more. I might have had longer to analyse it if I hadn't seen Mrs Weasley pull Harry into her arms without so much as a pause, followed very closely by Hermione. For fear of excessive amount of bodily contact I go in search of my luggage and scanning the crowd when I hear my name.

Strangely its Daniel I see first, his chubby fingers waving high above everyone's head, held aloft of his father's shoulders. It could be why I lift my eyes so highly and great the youngster first. "Hey, little man. What are you doing up there?"

"Flyin'" He shouts in excitement, holding his arms out by his sides and flapping them with the vigour that I'm sure is only accessible when you are four years old.

So much so that his heals dig deeply into Dales shoulders and I watch the grimace of pain cross his face. He turns his head to send a mockingly irritated look at his son before shaking it. "He's going to need a broom soon, isn't he?"

"Probably." There's already a smile on my face, all that trust and rapport that I had built with him over that short ten days, having not degraded in any way. "Sometime before you break your neck would help."

"Very funny little sis." He says while narrowing his eyes, the whole effect is ruined however when Danny pitches to the one side in flight, almost brining both of them to the floor. Dale only takes a moment to gather his bearings and lift the boy from around his neck. "Alright that's enough flying." He ignores the high-pitched whine sent his way in a way that only a parent could. "He didn't used to be this heavy."

"He is a growing boy." As I look down I see the truth of that statement. Now he is back on his own feet it is clear to see the inches that have added to his stature.

"Don't remind me." Dale replies. "Is it too much to want him to stay this cute forever?" His face almost breaks in two with the smile that he shoots over my shoulder. "Hermione. Fancy seeing you here."

"Yes, imagine that." Hermione responses, under the firm belief that one bad joke is deserving of another. "And you must be Daniel. I've heard so much about you."

"Really?" Dales voice belays his genuine disbelief, which I can understand, if I'm completely honest with myself. Maybe my friends are right and I have changed just as much as they have come to believe. He watches Hermione's slow nod then turns shocked features to me. "Now that is impressive." I could almost swear that I can see pride in his eyes. Danny begins to tug on my brother's sleeve but for the moment he pays him no heed, wrapping his hand around his son's much smaller one. Undeterred and completely single minded he turns back to Hermione. "So when can I expect a visit?"

It's not often I see my partner speechless but every time I do I can't help but sit back and watch the entertainment before me. "I wouldn't want to impose."

"Please tell me you're joking." Dale says slowly, before realising that she is completely serious, her sense of propriety almost rivalling mine at times. "No, don't do that to me. This is a six-week holiday. She'll go stir crazy."

Had it been any earlier in the year, before I managed to let go of the notion that I could hind all of my from those around me. Or even if we were just one week closer to the full moon I might have resented that remark. As it stands I feel my arms loosely cross under my chest and mumble. "She's standing right here."

Hermione either doesn't hear me or chooses to ignore the comment, stumbling over her words a few times before subconsciously shrugging. "If you insist."

"Dad." Daniel calls, having used up all of his short attention span. "Who's that?"

"That?" His dad response pointing in her direction. "That's Hermione."

The poor boy doesn't quite know what to do with that word. His face screws up for a moment and he tries ever so hard to produce a sound close to what he has just heard. "'Mione?"

Hermione takes this graciously, beaming down at the small child. "That should be close enough."

"Oh. I see what's going on here." Ginny, who has managed to sneak up on me, hidden in the crowd, places an arm across my shoulders. Then takes the fact that I do not immediately shrug her off as a sign of encouragement. Tightening the embrace, even though she has to lean up to maintain it. "When he says it like that it's cute. When I say it, it's just retarded."

"Ginny." Hermione reprimands yet again. Honestly you would think she's get fed up of it once in a while.

"What? I didn't swear. Besides she said it first." The redheaded girl answers, hooking her thumb in my direction. Having been the hand that has been resting on my shoulder I very nearly have the appendage lodged in my eye for her trouble, if it weren't for a very quick flinch on my part. Ginny then directs all of her attention to Hermione. "We're dropping Harry home first if that's alright."

Before she can respond the boy in question also asserts himself into the group, nervously cleaning his glasses on the edge of his t-shirt. "Which is unnecessary."

"Oh come on Harry." Ron comes up behind him and I have to roll my eyes at the excited smile slithering across my brother's face. Letting him near yet more people he can embarrass me in front of is never a good idea. "You've survived another year at Hogwarts. Be a bleeding shame if those two muggles mess that up."

"Wait a minuet." I begin. "Survived?"

"Oh yeah." Ginny says, pulling me even closer to her side, testing the limits of my tolerance of it. "It's always a close call with these three." She shots the golden trio a grin before holding out her two foremost fingers of her free hand, thankfully keeping them far away from my eyes. "So far I've had two near death experiences."

"Strange. Why does that almost make me feel left out?"

Ginny shrugs. "I wouldn't worry too much. There's always next year."


A/N: And that ladies and gentlemen, is the end of By the Light. Almost two years (this time around, all together it's more like sevon) I've been working on this and many more months to clean it up to a brilliant shine. But all that is besides the point, I finished it and more importantly my main character survived. You wouldn't believe how many touch and go moments there were. She just wouldn't behave, it was all I had to threaten her with. Please don't call the men in white coats for that comment. Honestly I'm harmless… mostly.

This is the part where special thanks are given, Firstly to Kind of the Ashers for somehow always being there, keeping this thing moving forward, listening to me whine and bitch and moan, keeping me up till god awful hours of the morning just to get a few more hundred words down. Seriously, that guy deserves a medal.

Secondly my partner, Sarahhaych who listens endlessly to ideas and bats them around with me. Not an easy task. It's not like I ever shut up.

To Chipperdyke, who served as a living dictionary for a fair portion of this story and taught me certain rules in grammar that I didn't even know existed.

And finally to you. Yes you. Whether you're read this story since the first moment it was posted and dealt with my tearing it down to throw something completely different back up. Waded through the truly horrendous spelling and grammar mistakes, of which I'm still finding. (Sad face) Or even if you have read this from start to finish after it was completed. All words are written to be read (And it's not as if you've only got though a few, at no point did I expect it to be this long) and only by doing so can they truly come alive. So thank you for giving my, arrogant, manipulative, insane character life. She thanks you too.

All that's really left for me to say is this isn't the end. As Ginny says there is always next year and I do intend there to be one. Not for a while. But there will be one. Until then like, favourite, review, I'm serious just click everything. And for the final time, I truly hope that you enjoyed By the Light.