Chapter Thirteen: Mother Knows Best

Though she was both mentally and physically exhausted by the week's revelations, Hermione could not sleep until her husband arrived back at the house in Godric's Hollow at around two in the morning. Ron was so tired that he simply fell into the bed, muttering something about staying here for the night, and Hermione let him sleep. Even once he was back, however, she had trouble falling asleep herself; fears and worries plagued her brain and it took a long time to forget about them long enough to drift off.

She hardly felt like she'd been asleep for more than a few minutes—though, in reality, she'd had a good few hours' rest—when something woke her. She opened her eyes to see sunlight streaming into the bedroom, and Ron sat upright in the bed next to her, looking troubled. "Ginny's suffering some morning sickness, I think," he said, once he saw she was awake, but he needn't have bothered with the explanation, as she soon heard a shout from the room next door.

"For God's sake, Harry, I am not an invalid!"

She winced sympathetically—Ginny had been complaining last night about Harry's need to hover around her constantly, and she could practically hear him dithering through the closed door. The toilet flushed, drowning out his response, but they heard Ginny say, "It's just morning sickness! It happens, and it's no bloody fun, believe me—in fact, I wish to Merlin you had to go through this right now!—but it's bloody fine!"

"Yes, but Ginny, darling, after everything that's gone on recently, don't you think that—"

"There's nothing wrong with my baby!" Ginny all but shrieked. "They said at the Hospital that it was fine. This stupid potion thing hasn't affected him and I am fine!" She rather undermined this point by bursting into tears, and it was most alarming to hear Ginny, who never cried, sobbing uncontrollably. Harry had clearly tried to comfort her in some way, for she chocked out the words "Leave me alone!", before they heard the slamming of the bedroom door.

Hermione exchanged a glance with Ron, before the latter hopped out of bed, opened the door of the guest room, and pulled Harry inside. He looked pale and worried but not, Hermione imagined, as bad as Ginny looked. "She's...I—I—I don't know what's wrong and—and—and..." he stuttered, waving his hands.

"Harry, sit down," Hermione said, pushing him into the small chair in the corner. "You're alright. It's okay." She spoke soothingly, which seemed to calm him down, and she perched on the windowsill next to him as he took several deep breaths.

"Should I go to Ginny?" Ron mouthed, pointing to the closed doorway through which his sister's sobs were still emanating. Hermione shook her head, motioning for him to sit down on the bed.

"Harry, Ginny's going to be perfectly fine," she continued in the same soothing voice. "She might get a bit of morning sickness or strange food cravings or...or whatever else it is pregnant women get, but that's all perfectly normal! It's supposed to happen, it doesn't mean that she's ill. They said at St. Mungo's that the potion wouldn't affect the baby, and they're the best Healers in the world, you know!"

"But—but what about the crying? Ginny never cries, you know that, and now she's—"

"It's just hormones," Hermione assured him. "Pregnancy hormones send your emotions up and down faster than a rollercoaster, don't they, Ron?"

She realised as she asked the question that Ron would have no idea what a rollercoaster was, but he made a convincing show of nodding along gamely anyway. "Absolutely!" he said, and his confidence seemed to give Harry a bit of a lift. "Anyway, you know what women are like—bloody emotional wrecks at the best of times, so add in all that baby business...well, it's just a recipe for disaster!"

"Oi!" said Hermione indignantly, but it had the desired effect on Harry, who chuckled slightly.

"I'm scared," he admitted, twisting his hands nervously.

"Of something happening to Ginny or the baby?" Ron asked. "It won't, mate. The Healers have said—"

"Not that," Harry muttered. "Me. What if...what if I'm no good as a father?" His voice was barely above a whisper as he finished his question, and Hermione and Ron exchanged a glance.

"Harry..." she murmured, hardly able to believe that her friend even needed assurances, "of course you won't be!"

He shrugged, once, keeping his gaze on the floor.

"Mate," Ron began, his voice gentle, "the only thing you ever need to do is this." He waited until his best friend was looking at him before continuing. "Whenever you need to decide something, just think to yourself, 'Hmm, would that fine, upstanding bloke who is my Uncle Vernon think that this thing is a good idea?'. And if the answer to that question is yes, then you bloody well don't do it."

This got a genuine laugh out of Harry, and Hermione smiled at her husband in relief.

"Well, that settles it," he said, looking cheerful for the first time that morning. "Thanks for the tip."

"Look, Harry, what you said before about Ron's Mum knowing if something is just usual pregnancy stuff or a bit more serious—it still stands. If you're that concerned about Ginny, why doesn't Ron go and fetch her? She's been through it all before, she'll know," Hermione suggested.

"Good idea," Ron said, looking relieved. "I'll go and put some proper clothes on, then I'll go and fetch her." He started hunting around for yesterday's clothes, and disappeared into the bathroom.

"You go and talk to Ginny," Hermione continued. "She's calmed down now, listen—" Sure enough, the sound of sobbing at ceased, and there was just the occasional hiccup coming from next door. "Go on, off you go!"

"What'll you do?" Harry asked, as she pushed him to his feet.

"I'll go make a start on breakfast," she said.

"No!" Harry's shout was so alarmed that she nearly jumped out of her skin. "Sorry, Hermione. I mean, no," he said, much more quietly. "Ginny can't stand the smell of any food before half past nine. Seriously, if she murders you for cooking something, there'll be so much paperwork and I really can't be bothered with that now. Hold off a bit, will you?"

"Alright then," Hermione laughed. "I might go back to bed, rather than risk the wrath of Ginny..."


"Maman?"

Fleur blinked her way out of sleep, unsure if she really was awake. Her mother was in France, and she, still, was in St. Mungo's Hospital in London. And yet, her mother's cool hand on her forehead felt real enough...

"My silly girl, why did you not send for me sooner?" Apolline Delacour asked, stroking her daughter's hair.

"Wh—what do you mean?" asked Fleur.

"Why did you not tell me how ill you were?" she asked.

"But I did," murmured Fleur. "I wrote to you and said I was pregnant, and that we would all come and see you later in the summer, in France, when my morning sickness had worn off."

"Yes, and you made it sound like nothing!" her mother replied. "There are very few women who are hospitalised for their sickness—you have been very ill!"

"How do you—"

"Bill," she said simply. "He wrote to me the other day, begging me if I knew of any French hospitals which may be able to help you."

"Bill—what—where is he?" Fleur asked, by now totally confused. She tried to sit up and turned even paler, causing her mother a few moments of alarm whilst she settled her back down.

"Bill is fine," Apolline said, "though I cannot believe it took him this long to write to us... Anyway, he is with your father; we both arrived here early this morning by the first Portkey from Paris. We came as soon as we heard, and he met us at the British Ministry this morning. He has taken your father to your home to look after the girls, and I have come to make you better."

"You can stop me being this sick?" Fleur asked. "Nothing the Healers have tried has made any difference, I am still—"

"The Healers have no experience with Veela magic," said her mother in a tone that was almost—almost—derisive. To say Fleur was surprised would have been an understatement: her mother had hardly tried to keep her Veela heritage and had spent her whole life living as a witch, preferring an altogether more human world. There were powers that the Veela had that went beyond what was considered 'normal' magic, and was closer to the magic of Goblins and House Elves and Centaurs, but she had eschewed that firmly. Now—now, when she was more ill than she had ever been—Fleur was supposed to start believing in what her mother had always termed 'that hocus-pocus'? It hardly seemed believable.

"No, you must listen," her mother said. "The Veela very rarely have boys; it happens most often when there is a good deal of wizard blood involved in the creation of a child. You yourself are only one quarter Veela, and you have married a wizard. It is most likely that you are having a boy."

"Bill and I chose not to find out..." Fleur said.

"I know, but you will have to go back on that," her mother continued patiently. "You see, because it is so rare for Veela to give birth to boys, the body often tries to reject it. I believe it is to do with what the Muggles call genetics. Boys will make the mother very sick and often she is at great risk of dying."

Fleur's heart started pounding. Her mother seemed to be suggesting that she either terminate her pregnancy, or risk her own life in continuing it. She would be prepared to do the latter, if it weren't for her two daughters, who would potentially grow up without a mother. Which did she choose—the baby in her womb, or those already living?

Apolline could read her daughter easily. "No, no, it is not like that!" she cried, without Fleur having to speak a word. "There is a cure. The Veela have invented it, and it works perfectly. They have been using it for many decades now, and it has never failed. It keeps the baby safe, too."

"Well, what is it?" Fleur asked with some urgency.

"A potion, taken by the mother—what? What is it? Is something the matter?" It was now Apolline's turn to sound urgent, as Fleur had given a derisive "Hah!" and made scoffing noises under her breath.

"More potions!" she said, throwing her hands up rather wildly. "Have you not heard?!"

"About how...how you became pregnant? Yes, Bill explained some," replied Apolline, though truth be told she was still not entirely certain on how the whole matter had come about. This was mostly, however, due to Bill's poor explanation skills: so worried had he been about his wife's state, he had barely been able to get his words out in the right order. Nonetheless, she had gathered that Fleur had only become pregnant because of some potion she had unknowingly taken, though the Healers were sure that her extreme sickness was not due to a side effect of said potion—something Apolline, with her family's history, was inclined to agree on.

"But this potion, it's not like that," she continued. "It has been used by the Veela for years and years, and it does not harm the baby at all. There is only one drawback." Fleur raised an eyebrow. "You cannot take any other potions with it—not even for medicinal purposes—as they may react with it, which can harm the baby. You must be very careful with what you eat and drink over the next few months, and you cannot even take something like Pepper-Up Potion for a cold, or use Essence of Dittany on a wound. Nor will you be able to take a pain relieving potion when you are in labour; though of course afterwards, your life will continue as it did before."

"That is it?" Fleur asked. "The only catch?" Her mother nodded once. "I will wait and see what Bill says, but it sounds..." She searched around for the correct word.

"It sounds like the answer to all your problems, my dear," her mother said drily. "Now, your husband will be here shortly; he just had to take your father to the girls', and then—"

As if she had summoned him, there was a knock on the door and Bill entered. "You're awake!" he cried, spying his wife sitting up in her hospital bed, and hurried over to her, setting down next to her. The thump jarred her slightly, and though normally she would hardly have noticed such a movement, in her heightened state of nausea it made her groan and reach over for a well placed bowl. After several deep breaths, however, she lost her green tinge, and waved away her husband's profuse apologies.

"I am fine," she said, though she patently did not look it.

Bill patted her hand gently; about the only gesture of comfort he could manage these days which did not aggravate her nausea more. "Have you told her about—" he began, addressing his question to his mother-in-law, and she nodded, cutting him off.

"I 'ave explained to 'er everyzhing," Apolline said. She and her daughter had of course reverted back to speaking English now that Bill was with them, and Fleur realised that her own French accent had faded somewhat, as she listened to her mother's voice. "You will, of course, 'ave to find out eef zhe child ees a boy, and I know zaht you deed not want to."

"We can probably afford that sacrifice, can't we?" Fleur asked, addressing her husband.

"Certainly," Bill said. "I spoke to the Healers first thing this morning. Healers Patil and Appleby were against it initially; it's not a cure they've heard of before. But one of the Head Healers over on the Spell Damage Ward did part of her training in Bulgaria, and she's seen the cure used to great effect, so they've decided to allow it on the proviso that we sign a declaration to the effect of, 'if this goes arse up, we won't sue'," he continued.

"And it just depends on if the baby is going to be a boy, or not?" Fleur asked.

Her mother nodded. "Yes," she said. "But I would...'ow ees eet zhat you say? Bet my bottom Galleon on eet."

"The potions are being shipped over from an Italian hospital; apparently there's a Veela enclave there, and they have treated a case like yours before, so the Healers are taking advice from them. Then, it's just a matter of waiting twenty-four hours for the potions to make their way out of your system, and if everything goes to plan, you could be back at home with the girls by Tuesday!" Bill explained encouragingly.

"Back at 'ome on Tuesday?" she asked, hardly daring to believe it.

"I shouldn't see why not," he replied, and her mother nodded in agreement.

"Then fetch the 'Ealers," she said, managing a weak smile in what felt like the first time in forever.


"Anyone home?!"

"Kitchen!" Ginny's called, as Hermione let herself in. "How was work?" she added, once the other had entered the kitchen.

"Good," Hermione said. "We're finally making progress on this House Elf Bill."

"That's...really...good," Ginny said slowly, whilst frantically writing on a piece of parchment in front of her. "There!" she said triumphantly a moment later, throwing down her quill. "My article's all done, and ahead of my deadline too!"

"Well done you," said Hermione, smiling. "Are you going to send it off to the Prophet now?"

"No," Ginny said, shaking her head. "I wanted to get it written today, then tomorrow I only have to proofread it and take it in to the offices. It'll be good to get out of the house..."

"Sounds like we've both had pretty successful days then," Hermione replied, taking a seat opposite her friend and helping herself to a biscuit from the jar.

Ginny nodded, but did not look too hopeful when she asked, "Is there any point in even asking if the boys have had the same?"

Hermione pulled a face and Ginny sighed. "I thought not."

"I know what you mean," Hermione said. "It was Friday when we found out about Pansy Parkinson, and I thought that would solve everything, but it hasn't. Apparently, it's just made things even more murky!"

"What do you mean?" asked Ginny.

"I stopped by the Auror Office at lunch today—Ron was able to join me for all of ten minutes." She rolled her eyes.

"Robards likes to push them hard, doesn't he?" Ginny muttered. "Never mind that the whole office is running on about three hours sleep combined since the weekend, now they don't even get time for proper meals!"

"I know," Hermione said sympathetically. "Anyway, the fingerprint tests have come back, and it's definitely Pansy who's been handling that phial. The only other prints on there are all people from the Auror Office and Hit Wizard Squad who went over and collected it in the first place."

"So...that means she's even more of a suspect, right?" asked Ginny, confused.

"You would think, but no," continued her friend. "The prints were enough of a legal justification to give her Veriatisum. But even under the most powerful truth telling potion, she still maintains total innocence about the whole thing—she honestly does know nothing. And she swears she has an alibi who can prove her innocence, but she won't tell them who it is."

"But why?" asked Ginny. "That could take all the heat off her and actually prove her innocence!"

"I know," sighed Hermione. "Ron thinks it might be that she's involved in something else, and doesn't want to indict that person or plot or whatever. Unfortunately, he made the mistake of sharing that with Robards, who's now added it to the list of things for them to be investigating..."

"Yeah—Harry said yesterday that they were monitoring her flat but they hadn't seen anyone coming and going who shouldn't have been," Ginny commented. "Unless they were using Polyjuice Potion, I guess..."

"Mmm," said Hermione. "Oh—and I haven't even told you the really good news yet!"

"Which is?" Ginny asked, not sound hopeful. Hermione's tone had made it clear she was being sarcastic.

"You know how Audrey was finally released from the Hospital yesterday? Well, Percy's taken some time off work to be with her whilst she recovers, and he's passed on the organising of this gala dinner for some foreign ministers at the end of the month to his assistant, who's dating someone in the Auror Office. The assistant happened to mention the dinner to her partner, who told Robards about it, and now Robards thinks that this whole potion thing is just to distract the Aurors whilst whoever's behind it does something at the gala for the foreign ministers."

"But why would they target some foreign ministers?" Ginny asked.

"Beats me," Hermione shrugged. "But also—why would anyone want to make a bunch of women pregnant? Loads of things aren't making sense at the moment." Ginny hummed in response to this, staring out of the window distractedly. "So, anyway, going back to the beginning: the boys have not had a successful day and won't be home til gone midnight again, most probably."

"Again," sighed Ginny.

"They're doing their best!"

"I know, I know," Ginny responded immediately. "But it just felt like, once you'd had that breakthrough with discovering Pansy's link to the whole thing, it'd be a matter of hours before everything was solved. But that was last Friday—tomorrow it'll be a week since the discovery, and they're almost worse off than before!"

"It's not good," agreed Hermione.

"I wouldn't mind so much if Harry wasn't in overprotective mode so much," grumbled her friend.

"Ron's the same with me though—that's why I'm staying with you, isn't it? I doubt we're in any danger, but it makes sense to have the two of us be together, rather than on opposite sides of the country just in case, doesn't it?" Hermione replied, trying to sound positive.

"I think he thinks that being pregnant has made my brain fall out or something," Ginny continued darkly.

"Well, you are a bit weepy at the moment. It must be that that's thrown him," Hermione joked. Ginny glared, and she hastily apologised. When Molly Weasley had come round on the weekend, she had pronounced Ginny perfectly fine; her emotional behaviour and occasional sickness was, apparently, normal for a pregnant woman. Despite knowing it was all completely natural, however, Hermione still found it hard to cope with the normally stoic Ginny bursting into tears every few hours.

Ginny let out a long sigh, and then, after a moment's pause, got to her feet, at determined look on her face. "You know what? I am sick of only seeing the four walls of this house. Let's do something!"

"I don't know," Hermione said immediately. "Harry and Ron want us to stay out of the way at the moment, and—"

"Let's go to Andromeda Tonks's," Ginny said, ignoring her. "Oh, come on, Hermione!" she wheedled, when her friend still looked doubtful. "If someone was going to attack me and you as part of this whole...whatever this is, they'd have done it by now. And we'll be apparating straight to Andromeda's, and on the tiny, tiny, tiny chance we're attacked there, she's a brilliant witch and an additional wand can only be a bonus. And you haven't seen Teddy in ages!"

"Oh...alright then," Hermione said.

"Yay!" squealed Ginny, rushing round the table to hug Hermione. She returned the gesture, but pulled back after a moment to frown at Ginny when she was still clinging on to her.

"Everything okay?" she asked, concerned, as she noticed Ginny's eyes were swimming with tears.

"Y-yes," the redhead wailed. "I'm j-just so happy about s-seeing Teddy!" She let out a half-sob, half-laugh, and then hiccupped. "Sorry," she sniffed. "These hormones are ridiculous." Hermione found herself wishing even more strongly for Harry, Ron and the other Aurors to solve the case as quickly as they could. She couldn't cope with a pregnant Ginny alone for longer than she absolutely had to...


"She's so good with him," Mrs. Tonks said with a smile, looking across the room where Ginny was reading Teddy a story—and naturally doing all the voices—having spent the past hour playing with him on his toy broomstick.

"I know," Hermione agreed fondly. "She was panicking at me the other night about not knowing how to be a Mum, and getting everything wrong. I just told her she'll be fine, and that Ted's the proof of that."

"How is she?" asked Mrs. Tonks, lowering her voice slightly. "Mentally, I mean. Molly told me all about this business with the pregnancy potion; how the Aurors are looking for the person behind it. But it sounds a bit frightening, to suddenly find yourself pregnant when you're not expecting it..."

"It was a shock at first, I think," Hermione said. "But it was for everyone involved, I suppose. I think Ginny would have liked a few more years playing Quidditch, but she's come round to the idea of having a baby now, and she's looking forward to it. The timing could have been better, but...what can you do?"

"Well quite, quite," she said. "You know, I hadn't heard of the potion in years, but it did bring back memories..."

"You mean you've taken it?" Hermione asked sharply.

"Oh, no—nothing like that," Mrs. Tonks said quickly. "But I knew the inventor of it: Damocles Belby. He was a few years ahead of me at school, and quite, quite brilliant at potions. There was time when it seemed that every other month, he'd be in the paper for one spectacular breakthrough or another..." She paused, clearly lost in some reminiscence or another. "Mind you, the whole family was like that—excellent potioneers. He had a sister in my year, Endora, her name was, Endora Belby. She was almost as brilliant too, but being a woman, she wasn't allowed to pursue potion making, or any career really. Well, it wasn't so much that she was a woman, more that she was a pureblood woman," she added, at Hermione's questioning glance. "In those days, the best you could hope for was to be some pureblood's trophy wife."

"Unless you ran away and married a muggleborn," Hermione said wryly.

"Quite," said Mrs. Tonks with a smile. She looked like she was going to continue, but Ginny interrupted the two of them.

"We're thinking it might be someone's bedtime," she said, with a significant glance at Teddy, who was holding her hand tightly.

"I think you might be right," Mrs. Tonks said. "Are you ready for bed, Teddy?"

The little boy considered this, then nodded, tugging at Ginny's clothes. Obligingly, she bent down and listened seriously whilst he whispered something in her ear. "He says he'd like you to come and tuck him up, as well, Hermione," she reported.

"Me?!" said Hermione, surprised. "But I—" She broke off, catching sight of Teddy's crestfallen face. "You two go ahead; I'll be right up." Teddy let out a cry of delight at such an exciting proposal, and, despite everything else that was going on, Hermione couldn't help but feel happy as she watched him. Not everything in the world was bad, after all.


"So what else is new?" Ron asked, mouth full of sandwich.

Hermione wrinkled her nose. "Half of those are meant to be for Harry, you know."

"Sod Harry, he's got his own sandwich-bringing wench!" Ron said, biting into another ham and mustard sandwich.

"Excuse me?"

"But you're my favourite sandwich-bringing wench," Ron said, and Hermione's lips twitched involuntarily. "Hah!" he yelled on seeing this, inadvertently giving her a view of his half-chewed lunch.

"I'm ignoring that only because you're running on about two hours sleep," she said, attempting a frown. "But seriously, you've got to save some of these for Harry, because Ginny couldn't get away to see him during his lunchbreak and she's really worried about how much he's eating, because—"

"Hermione, it's okay," Ron said. "I promise. Harry's doing fine, and so am I." She breathed deeply. Only getting to see her husband for twenty minutes on the floor outside the Auror Office was not her idea of a fun day—but it was better than the previous day, when neither of them had come home at all. But Ron looked okay—albeit completely exhausted—and he spoke reassuringly to her. "And hey, when this is all over, I've already told Robards I'm taking three years off so we can go on a really long holiday together."

Hermione gave a weak laugh. "And he sanctioned that?"

"He sanctioned a fortnight," Ron replied.

"Well, I guess it'll do," she sighed. "So tell me: is there any more news? Any further suspects, or any progress with Pansy Parkinson?"

"Nothing at all, and I don't want to waste this time with you talking about the stuff I've been talking about for six days straight," he said. "So, tell me about your life."

"There's not much to tell, really," Hermione shrugged. "Ginny's going to remove Harry from the mortgage and add me in his place because we've basically moved in together and sod you boys..."

"Sounds fair enough," Ron said. "What else?"

"Um...we went and saw Teddy yesterday—tell Harry he's doing fine, but he misses him," Hermione said. "Oh! I know you said you didn't want to talk about work, but I was chatting with Mrs. Tonks about things, and she said that she knew of the potion because its inventor was quite famous; Damocles Belby? Maybe you could pull him in for interviewing?"

"No such luck," Ron said, shaking his head. "Robards already tried that, but he's been dead fifteen years—natural causes, nothing suspicious, but still no use to us."

"Well...what about the rest of his family? They might have some of his old papers or something; she said that the whole family were extremely talented in potions. It's worth a shot—they might be able to help with understanding the nature of the potion," she persisted.

"I guess it's worth a shot," Ron said. "Did she mention where they live, at all? I suppose not really..."

"The only thing I remember was that he had a sister called Endora, Endora Belby, and—Ron! What is it?!" Ron had leapt to his feet, knocking over the remains of the sandwiches, and slapped himself firmly in the face, much to Hermione's alarm.

"I knew the name Belby was familiar," he said, crouching down next to his wife. Hermione's heart began to pound as he began speaking very quickly. "You know how Robards thinks that this potion thing is just a distraction for something bigger? Half the office thinks this something bigger is an attack that we don't know about but is imminent; and half think it's to do with the Yaxley case—you know he keeps giving false information to our Aurors, getting them injured? We know he's got a connection to the outside world, but we don't know how: the only visitor he's allowed is his wife."

"I don't see—"

"His wife is also the only vaguely suspicious person we've seen visit Pansy Parkinson's address, but we can't arrest her for having tea with the wife of an ex-Death Eater, so we haven't really done anything about it," Ron continued, ignoring the interruption. "And his wife is—or at least, was, before she married him—Endora. Endora Yaxley, nee Belby."


This is a really long author's note, and you don't have to read it if you don't want, but I'd still love a review!

Firstly, I hope it was obvious but in case it wasn't, when Fleur and her mother are speaking without a phonetically written accent, it's because they're speaking French (and totally not because that's easier to write zhan writing like zheese...)

Secondly, this is the penultimate chapter—I'll post the last one in a fortnight, and then the epilogue a week after that. I have been asked about sequels, and one version of this answer is no, there is not going to be a direct sequel to this story (at least, not one written by me!). However, the vast majority of my stories take place within the same (canon) universe and so often they reference each other. For a full reading list, you can check out my profile which has a link to my tumblr, where you can find what I have already posted, and what I plan to post in the future. (If the link is broken, just go to ladyknightley dot tumblr dot com, and feel free to follow me there too, if you'd like!) Like I say, I'm not planning on writing a sequel to this story as it stands, but the main themes/plot may come up in another story in the future. Who knows what will happen?! (I certainly don't...)

Finally, thank you so much to everyone who reviewed, and especially for all the birthday wishes! Thanks especially to: yellow 14 (glad you like Betty – she might be making another appearance shortly!), gabbygirl247, Wizard of night (I will PM you tomorrow about your question!), WheelchairDiva, finchelromionelover, jubs-vj, Im In Love with the Phantom, xxxLeanniexxx, HogwartsDreamer113 (I think yours is the closest guess yet!), Magdylena Black and The Golden Marauder (thank you so, so much for the lovely compliments!).