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By The Light	By : lycanthrope Category: Harry Potter > FemSlash - Female/Female Views: 17685 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: All of the characters portrayed in this fic (apart from Jamie.) and all other creations existing within the world Of Harry Potter are the creative genius of J.K Rowling, I make no profit from the writing or posting of this fan fiction.

Chapter List
- 16
- 17
- 18
Chapter 17

When my eyes open my first instinct is to glare at the window opposite me. It would be nice if just for one day I could be woken after the sun is high in the sky but no, this is starting to become a pattern. Every morning at sunrise my eyes open and my body refuses any further sleep. It’s infuriating, especially on a weekend such as this morning, when Hermione, along with the rest of the student body, sleep in.

I turn my head to look at the back of my sleeping partner. She has kept her promise much better than I had expected her to, keeping to the side of the bed furthest from the door and barely touching me as we sleep. Gradually it has lead to me spending much more than the weekends up in the north tower, apart from retuning to my tiny room on the ground floor to see to my potions I am practically living in this room, much to Hermione’s delight.

With a deep sigh of resignation I push myself and turn my body so I can sit on the edge of the bed, scrubbing my hands over my face and running them through my hair, with no idea how I am going to entrain myself on this particular Saturday morning. After pushing my arms high above my head so I can stretch out the stiffness of the limbs I stand and pad over to Hermione’s chest of draws. One of which she took great trouble emptying out so I could move some of my own clothing upstairs. I quickly find myself something suitable to dress in, knowing that I will unable to get comfortable just lounging around in such a state of undress when I feel so completely awake.

After a quick wash in the sink I find myself standing in the middle of the spacious room with no idea how to occupy my mind for the next few hours as the castle wakes up around me. I had thought that my persistent alertness when the sun rose would cease with the steady retreat of winter and the hours of daylight becoming longer. I had been wrong. For some reason I cannot stop myself from waking as the sun does each and every morning, regardless of how late I retired the night before or how early the sunrise is in the day. I have since attributed the strange behaviour to not being used to having any direct sunlight as I wake over the years, though I do not complain about the matter, after having found that the even breaths of another in the bed are soothing enough to drop me into Morpheus’ realm with very little effort.

Lowering myself down into the desk chair and racking my brains to come up with at least one homework assignment that I have yet to complete, frustrated when I can think of none. Which leaves me with only one option. It takes me a few moments to locate the leather bound book I had been avoiding for weeks and opening it to the appropriate page. I take out an inkwell and cast a glance over my shoulder Hermione to check she is still asleep. It took a great deal of time to even admit the existence of my journal to the woman but I am still uncomfortable with her knowing its contents and when I write in it. This is largely the reason why a concealing charm has been placed upon it.

I don’t know how long I lean over the book, reading over the previous entries and the writing about everything I can think of since I last used it, only important factors come to mind, Wolf’s bane and it’s lack of effectiveness and the subsequent arguments between Hermione and myself over it. Since then very little has happened slowly we slipped into another year, lessons merging days and weeks into one expanse of time that all appear to have very little relevance. So by the time I have committed my inner thoughts to paper the figure in the bed is beginning to stir. I charm and close the book, setting it back onto the desk where I found it and turn in her direction just as her sleepy eyes open to greet me with a smile. “Morning.” She says groggily, already used to the odd hours I have been keeping. “I’d have thought after last night you would at least stay in bed.” Slowly she brings her hands to her face and pushing the heel of each palm into her eyes in a bid to force them to focus.

Our passions have been rising as of late, months into the relationship and everything still feels fresh. Granted we are usually making up because I have some in ability to share something or other. Though it is a becoming less a less frequent occurrence. I think I might be very slowly learning that Hermione doesn’t give up. Once she knows I’m hiding something she’s like a dog with a bone. Just wont let it go. So I’ve taken to giving in, answering the questions she asks. I admit with as little detail as possible but I am slowly learning to open myself up more.

“I’m sorry.” I say standing from her chair and walking back over to the bed. I rest myself down lying down alongside her and bending my arm at the elbow to rest my head against my palm. “How’s this?”

Her sleepy smile is worth the effort. “Much better.” She pulls herself into a sitting position and rests her lips against mine. “What have you been up to this morning?”

“This and that.” I answer vaguely. Already knowing that such a phrase could provoke an argument, quickly I promise myself that if she does push the issue I will give her a much more detailed answer.

She makes a noise of disapproval and raises an eyebrow but doesn’t quiz me further. “What time is it?”

“Urm.” I glance down at my watch “Half nine.”

Her forehead creases into a frown and then drops herself back to the bed. “It’s still to early.” Up until recently Hermione was an early riser. Finding solitude in the library or around her friends. However as I became her sleeping companion her has been waking later and later each day in direct contract to my own sleeping habits.

“For you, maybe.” I complain.

“How is it my fault you can’t stand sunlight?” Her deep brown eyes meet mine for a few moments before she continues. “Maybe we could stay in your room for a few nights. You might be able to sleep in then.”

“My bed isn’t big enough for one, let alone two. Besides the whole room smells of fish at the moment.” I am really beginning to think that this potion is not going to work.

“What exactly are you brewing down there?”

“Occurrere Lunae.” I answer immediately, hoping that I have the pronunciation correct. “It’s a really old recipe. It’s supposed to make the wolf feel full. Hopefully, then it wont be quite so interested in Snape.”

“You could just eat Snape.” She says, thoughtfully looking up at the ceiling. “I think most of the school would thank you.”

I offer her a token laugh before jumping to the potion master’s defence. “Snape’s not so bad. He’s helping me. A lot.” Over the past weeks my trust for my head of house has gradually climbed to heights I had not expected. Every time he hides something from Umbridge, every time he tries to come up with some solution, every book he gives me. Even every time he asks me if I’m all right. I feel like he is trying with all of his power to protect me.

Hermione’s palm gliding across the skin at my cheek brings me back to the present. “I know. I’m sorry.” Snape is a sticking point between the three Gryffindor’s and myself. Harry is still convinced that he is working on behalf of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and does not think he should be trusted. Even though I am uncertain where his allegiances lie when it comes to the war, for right now for some reason he has my best interests at heart. If that isn’t enough I don’t know what can be. “Do you think this one will work?” She asks brining my attention to the potion currently brewing on my desk.

“No” The certainty in my voice is disheartening at best.

“Why?”

I shrug at her lowering my gaze to the bedspread, which has become much more interesting than the last time I look at it. “Last one didn’t” The only change in my last transformation was my nightmare. Something that I have kept to myself. Everything I have read, every single account submitted by werewolves to describe the change says that it is nothing but darkness. Can’t think, can’t feel. Yet I dream, every time since the first.

When I transformed the third time, at the winter holidays I dreamt again of Nanauatl, though not quite as explosive as the time before. I didn’t not dream of the flames, the burning. I lived behind his eyes as he bowed to his masters, willingly giving both his penance and blood. I woke that morning in a panic, checking every square inch of flesh I could reach in search of those wounds. I found none but felt the painful ghost of them on my skin for hours afterwards.

The last time, it was different. I was different. Everything was. It was horrific and I would have much preferred the burning and the blood. In my dream someone referred to me as Malina. I say someone because I never saw his face. Only the bleary outlined shadow of a man. Looming above me. Grunting, groaning and grinding. I woke with tears burning in my eyes. I had never felt so violated. My dreams have never conjured up such images before and I was ill prepared for them.

They are just dreams. It only takes hours to push them to the back of my mind and try to forget what my subconscious mind has conjured up to entertain me through the nights of the full moon. Yet I can’t get over how real they feel. Like memories brought to life.

“Jamie?” For the second time she pulls me from my thoughts and I have never been more grateful. “What are you thinking about?”

Without hesitation I answer her. “Just thinking about the next potion.” Just because I am starting to open myself to her does not make me above lying. “Speaking of which, next time you go to Hogsmeade can you get a few things for me?”

She is so taken aback by the question that she over looks my deflection. “You’re not going?”

“No.” I answer lifting myself to once again to sit at the side of the bed. “My Father saw fit to remove his consent for me to leave the castle.”

“Can he do that?” She says after a moments pause.

“Apparently.” I get to my feet. The thoughts of my nightmares making me restless, needed to get out of this room and do something, anything. “Umbridge took great pleasure of informing me of that fact.”

“You never said anything.” The accusation is laced within her tone.

There isn’t much I can do about my silence on the matter now so I only shrug. “I’m telling you now.”

“Good point.” There is a long pause as she pulls the covers further up her chest. “You’re not angry?”

That is something I have to think about. I have every right to be irate at the man, yet I cannot summon the energy to do so. “No. Just surprised it took him so long.”

Even though I am trying to make light of the entire situation the silence between us is heavy as I wait for her to speak. Watching that look of sympathy descend upon her face that she knows I cannot stand, her mouth opens and closes and few times as if she wishes to speak but thinks better if it. Eventually she decides to avoid the topic of my family completely. “Give me a list, I’ll get you everything you need.” I give her a smile of thanks. I know she is concerned for my situation but she can do nothing to ease it, I would much rather she just ignored the existence of the entire thing.

With the conversation, as far as I am concerned, finished and the lateness of the hour I begin to get itchy feet pacing up and down the room. If she doesn’t suggest some sort of activity soon I might just burst.

“How can you be so restless so early in the morning?” she asks pushing the covers down her naked skin, bearing herself to my gaze, which quickly stops my pacing so I am able to better admire the view.

Even with my eyes glued to her I am able to come up with an adequate response. “I’ve been up since eight.”

“I see.” She stands and takes one look at the lustful look on my face. Before shaking her head and disappearing into her private bathroom with a wistful. “Sometimes you’re worse than the boys.” Thrown over her shoulder.

“It’s not my fault you’re so attractive.” I accuse through the door before realising how long she may spend in there. “I’m going for a walk.” I call out to her already reaching for my robes.

“Don’t get into trouble.” The sound of the shower running reaches my ears as my hand reaches for the doorknob. “Seventh floor midday. Don’t forget.” She calls out to my back.

“I wont.” I whisper closing the door behind me, knowing she will be unable to hear me. Then turn to amble my way through the endless corridors of Hogwarts Castle

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I did manage to stay out of trouble for the whole two hours I was on my own. Mostly due to the fact the whole school was almost deserted. Many of them flocking to the Great Hall for breakfast, this is something I avoid at all costs when there are insufficient witnesses around to prevent any sort of violence.

So after taking a stroll through the castle and around the Black Lake I let my slow steady stride take me to the seventh floor, where I pace the hallway until the door appears to the Room of Requirement, only to find that I am in fact late to the resistance meeting. “… a happy memory…” Harry cuts off his sentence at the sound of the door opening and closing behind him. He fights to keep his lips from twitching up into an amused smile. “Nice of you to join us.” I mealy shrug my shoulders and make to join the group hoping to avoid any further berating from my friend, to little avail. “We were just talking about casting a Patronus Charm.”

“Really?” I say shortly, unhappy with the shear number of eyes that are on me.

“Yeah.” His arms are crossed and he is enjoying my discomfort far too much for my liking. “Know how to cast that one?”

He received a raised eyebrow and a curt reply in response. “Not exactly in my repertoire.”

“I see,” He says his eyes shining, happy that he is able to teach me something. “As I was saying, the spell comes from within, you need a memory that makes you feel so happy, so warm that it can over power a Dementor’s presence. A true Patronus…”

The whispered statement of “You forgot.” across my ear forces me to divide my attention between the boy who lived and Hermione.

“No. I lost track of time.” I whisper back frowning at Harry’s description of the stag he is able to conjure up. “Completely different.”

“Right.” She says, her voice full of disbelief.

“The only way we can really learn this is to try it.” Harry says and I already have a bad feeling about this entire thing. Happy memories? This should certainly be interesting. ”Off you go then.” Harry says using his hands to shoo us all away so we are able to practice.

I wrack my brain for a memory that makes me feel truly happy. There are so precious few from my childhood, even fewer since I started school. Many things I remember made me feel happy at the time, yet with my rapidly changing views of the world they no longer fill me with joy. The play of a smile across my Fathers face once made me happy, ecstatic even, now all I wish is to see him strung up by his thumbs weeping in anguish. Such memories are now no longer useable.

There are of course memories if my Mother. Though I cannot place a single time that I had been truly happy in her presence. Warm, protected, loved and needed all of these pleasurable feelings. All of them I can recall a specific moment when I felt them. Though trying to find a moment that was pure, untainted joy for me I find myself struggling.

Perhaps, moments with Hermione? That first meeting by the lake, even now I can feel my whole body singing just being close to her. However my motives on that day were not pure. Something I now feel a deep shame to admit. The day I professed my love for her? Something I did out of shear desperation having been laid bare to the eyes of the entire school.

An otter composed entirely of light scampers around my legs and I am not surprised to find Hermione’s twinkling eyes flowing it. She is always so good at these things so quickly. Though I find myself instantly curious as to what memory she would have chosen.

Every moment I can conjure in my mind that I can associate even closely to happiness is tainted by my own actions. I chose three memories in turn and unsuccessfully try to call a Patronus to the tip of my wand. Quickly running out of memories. Then something strikes my mind wondering and then settles on a setting I have never seen before. My eyes close to bring it into focus, the thought is so vivid it could almost be true.

In my minds eyes my arms are held outstretched, tips of fingers gently caressing the fruit hanging from chest high stems. My forehead creases, I recognise the plant to be rice but can never remember walking through a field of it. I am more than a little startled when my chest sours and a joyous feeling seeps into my very bones, lighting me from the inside out making me feel like I could walk on water or reach out and touch the stars. This may not be a memory but the feeling it elects must be enough.

Without opening my eyes, unwilling to break the spell I gently speak the words. “Expecto Patronum.” I feel the spell at it leaves my wand drawing on the images that fill my mind.

Gasps fill the room instantly and my eyes snap open to assess any apparent danger only to come face with my other form. Snarling at me.

Instantly I take a step back. The wolf before me crouched low to the ground over its front paws in an aggressive pose. It’s ears pulled back and its muzzle twitching to bear its teeth. The creature is not exceptionally big, it could easily be mistaken for an over gorwn wolf running free in the forests. Yet its eyes show more than its size could ever convey.

It’s looking at me, its eyes assessing every part of my form. Not because I called fourth a reflection of my primal form for all around to see. It looks on me in such a way because it knows that I am the one who fights so hard to lock it up and keep in buried down in the dark where it belongs. Its gaze burning in resentment, scolding my skin and even though it hasn’t moved I am forced to take another step back.

Slowly it pushes its weight onto its front paws, stalking slowly towards me and on instinct I raise my wand against it. “How do I make it stop?” I ask removing not moving my eyes from the advancing wolf. Hearing the terror in my own voice and for once not caring that all other ears in the room can are witness to it.

I see Harry holding his hands out in a pacifying gesture at the edges of my peripheral vision. “Just calm down. It’s reacting to you. You control it.”

“I’m not doing that.” I say taking a step back as the snarling muzzle advances another step. “How do I stop it?”

He sighs shaking her head. “Just forget the memory that conjured it. It’s that simple.”

I laugh and chance a look at the boy, hoping that my face portrays how insane that sentence makes him sound. “I’m a werewolf Harry.” My teeth grit tightly and frustration and fear quickly give way to anger. “I have to be that thing. I shouldn’t have to look at it. Happy memories aren’t exactly on my mind right now.”

When I look back at the creature I’m sure that it’s closer than I remember it being and I tighten my hold on my wand. Unsure if it feels threatened by the action, only knowing that it makes me feel safer.

“I don’t know any other way.” Harry says. “You just let go of the memory.”

I can barely recall what the memory was; only that it wasn’t mine and made me feel so joyous I could have almost sang. In a panic I strike out flicking my wand and throwing a cautions stunning curse in the direction of my Patronus. The reaction is both unexpected and instantaneous. In a movement much swifter than I could have anticipated it jumps to the side, dodging the spell and throws itself into a run in my direction. The long stride swallows the distance between us in two steps and much faster than I could have reacted. When it is barely a foot from me it jumps, its form pushing into my chest and disappearing into my body, the weight pushing me backwards into a fall. Then my vision fills with a blinding white light moments before my back hits the floor.

It takes me less than a second to realise the grip on my wand in gone and I am left holding nothing but air. My eyes desperately skate over my surroundings only to find that I am not in the Room of Requirement any longer.

Around me there is nothing, the landscape a never-ending bare, white canvas.

The sound of a low threatening growl pulls me from any further appraisal of the surrounding area. To find the black nose of a wolf so close to my own it has me scrabbling away in fear, before I am able to even process the implications. The beast’s lips draw skywards in a snarl and the low rumble from its chest intensifies dramatically. “You fear me.” The lips of the wolf do not move, instead the words bombard my ears from every angle of the open space and I lose enough presence of mind to turn my head and seek out the voice.

Upon finding none my eyes make their way to the creature across from me. “You can not be talking to me.” I state, knowing this to be fact and finding myself doubting it.

“And yet.” It begins, the snarl dropping from its muzzle and it’s ears rising up from along its neck. Already looking less ominous with the small movement. “Here we are.” It pauses for a moment, taking the time to pull its forepaw towards its body and bending its hind legs so it is able to rest against its rump. “I had not anticipated us meeting so early. I had not thought you ready. Yet you summon me.”

“I didn’t summon you.” I snap, immensely grateful that the canine has not advanced on me further.

The creature tilts its head to the side in an open display of curiosity. “You pried on my memories and called me into your world.”

My limbs begin to shake and I struggle to keep the wavering from my voice. “No, I summoned a Patronus based on an image that made me feel happy.”

The menacing, distinctly feminine voice makes a low sound of comprehending. “It would appear my actions have been in haste. Still, it is of little consequence. You have accessed knowledge of which cannot be unlearned.”

Slowly and shakily I clamber to my feet. Hoping that the height advantage and the ability to sprint when needed may alleviate some of my fright. “What…” I cut off my own question, rethinking the order of my words. “Who are you?”

It’s like I can feel that the wording off my question appeases it. It is pleased that I am able to refer to it as another living being. Not a thing crawling around in my chest to be feared. “You may refer to me as Amaterasu.”

It does not continue, leaving me space to continue my questioning. “Where are we?”

“You and I exist within the same entity. Yet we have not come into contact with one another until now. A buffer was placed within you mind between us for your own protection. The unused space within your mind, we may now traverse this and communicate.”

My jaw tightens and it dawns on me very suddenly that this goes for beyond the realms of insanity. “I’m not very talkative.” I say in a desperate plea for this creature, this dark dangerous aspect of my body to leave me in piece, until the moon calls it forth and pushes me so deep into my nightmares that I cannot hear it howl.

“What has been done cannot be undone. Though, that you are ill prepared to receive me is a worry.” The voice vibrating all around me pauses to take a deep breath just as the wolf pulls a lungful of air in through its nose. It’s head tilts to the side, it’s ears pitching forward as is straining to hear something that my ears cannot detect. “Our time is running short. So I must be brief. What is to happen upon your awakening is both inevitable and irreversible. For that I must offer you my deepest sympathies.”

That particular word sets my teeth on edge immediately and just as I am about to step forward and give this Amaterasu a piece of my mind, wolf or no wolf, everything around me flashes a blinding white. Obscuring her form and the surrounding area from my view.

When the world snaps back into focus I’m staring at the intricate carvings along the high wooden ceilings in the Room of Requirement. Hermione’s hands groping at my face, my name falling from her lips over and over in a bid to grab my attention. I come back into myself with a strangled gasp and my shaking fingers close around her upper arms before I have time to even think about the movement. Her startled scream is so loud that when it reaches my ears the sound rings through my skull and has my gaze snapping to meet her eyes. Her fear and concern showed so plainly on her face that I can almost feel it tickling at my nostrils.

Wind and drums roar in my ears to such an extent I can barely hear my own voice as I ask. “What happened?”

For a second she looks like she might answer, her jaw working but being unable to produce any words. “I don’t know.” She finely says and her loud thundering voice slams into me with the force of a speeding train and I have to shut my eyes tightly against the sudden pounding behind my eyes. I feel my muscles bunching and twitching and lack the ability to stop them. “Jamie?”

It’s too much. Why is she screaming at me so? Why is her voice so oppressing and demanding of my attention? “Stop shouting at me.” I plea. Tightening my trembling grip on her upper limbs.

Her breathing quickens and rumbles through my head like an oncoming storm. The sound rising high above the steady beat of drums all around me. “I wasn’t.” By the tone of her voice I know she could have no more than whispered to me but the sound rumbles through my senses threatening to knock be backwards with the force.

The muscles along my neck begin to twitch, pulling against my chin and force my whole head into a rhythmic tick that I can no more suppress than my own rapid breathing. Every single muscles across my chest starts trembling in earnest and I force my eyes open needing to see some reassurance in her deep brown eyes. What I find there is anything but the resounding look of helplessness makes me wish I had stayed in the darkness.

Something warm and wet touches my upper lip and her gaze in immediacy drawn to it, her mouth slowly falling agape. Needing to know what could cause her to look at me in such a way I pry my fingers from around her arm and run them under my nose. Gathering the moisture and pulling my hand far enough away to see the glistening red blood that coats them. “What…?” I feel myself asking but my own body cuts off my question. Without warning my eyes roll back in their sockets and the twitching spreads from my neck all along my shoulders, forcing my limbs the thrash and jerk against Hermione’s hold.

“Everybody out!” I don’t know who shouts, the sound is so loud and booming inside my skull that I cannot even distinguish its gender. It’s immediately followed by the thunders of many footfalls upon hollow wooden floor. In response my back arches, still twitching at a maddening pace.

A hand grazes the skin of my cheek and weaves into my hair to cover the crown of my head, where it has been bashing against the floor.

“Hermione.” Ginny. I’m certain that’s Ginny. It’s lower in volume than the shout a moment ago but still too much for my ears to bear. “We have to go. She’s starting to change.”

Am I? It that what this looks like? How can I be transforming? The midday sun is still high in the sky, I can feel its presence coating my skin and seeping into my limbs. With no moon to call forth the beast within me how can I possibly be changing?

Hermione pitches her voice to a whisper somehow knowing that it is the level of sound that is causing me such discomfort. “No she’s not.”

“How can you possibly know that?” Ginny however has not lowered her voice and the noise seizes my muscles along my back tighter before releasing them.

“Because she’s not screaming.” Hermione’s response has anyone else around fall into silence and the sounds booming in my head begin to calm. Instead of a thousand drums there are only four. The raw of thunder tapers off into a strong gale in my ears and one by one my muscles come back under my control. I feel a thumb stroking along my cheekbone gently keeping me away from the dark depths of unconsciousness. “Jamie?” She can no more than have breathed to word but I can hear every syllable as if she were screaming it down my ear. “Sweetheart, you had a seizure.” Her voice is keeping my mind alert but the fatigue in my limbs prevents me from being able to respond beyond the crease along my forehead.

“Is she awake?” A male voice hits my eardrums with such ferocity that I am unable to recognise it and the muscles along my back stiffen, threatening to start the whole ordeal anew.

Hurriedly Hermione turns from me as speaks in a harsh whisper. “Keep you’re voice down.”

Ginny’s voice once again washes over me. “We should get her to the hospital wing.”

My breathing hitches as I try with all of my might to move at least one of my limbs. An episode like this would be more than enough for Umbridge to declare me a danger. Giving her opportunity to remove me from the school and possibly society as a whole. We have to keep this a secret for as long as possible but to do that I have to move.

“Is she trying to speak?” That booming male voice bombards my senses for a second time and after hearing Hermione shift around at my side a small whispered. “Sorry.” Tells me Ron is still in the room.

My eyelids feel like lead as I pry them open, only to snap them closed when light invades them. Gritting my teeth I try a second time and squint against the bright light pushing against my pounding head, patently waiting for my eyes to bring everything into focus. A bleary outline of Hermione and she unsurely smiles down at me. “Hi.” She whispers looking to be a loss for words. “Are you okay?”

Muscles shake all along my arm as I bring my hand to my head, pushing the heel of my palm against my throbbing temples. Without either the energy or inclination to lie I croakily answer. “No.” Pulling salvia into my mouth in an attempt to wet the back of my throat so I am able to speak. “What is that drumming?”

I watch as a look is thrown across my prone body between Hermione and Ginny. It is at this point that I notice a steady throb beneath the skin of Hermione’s neck very subtlety, so tiny that by all rights it should be invisible to the naked eye. I watch, realisation settling over me as it steadily beats in time with one of the drums.

The first time I realise I have moved is when I see my fingers bruising over her neck, ignoring her confused expression as I press them against her pulse. Honing my new sensitive ears onto that one steady drumbeat. “You’re drumming.” I say, not ready to admit even to myself what I can hear pressing against my ears.

The steady beat quickly gathers pace and I see her eyes widen. “You can hear my heart?”

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A/N- I appear to lack the ability to just let Jamie have just one good chapter. It’s challenge now there is going to be one. There will be one chapter at some point that’s all roses and daffodils. I anticipate it being short but I really need to do something nice for this girl.

Anyway this chapter got a little away from me. I was going to carry on a bit but it just felt right leavening it here. Hopefully should have the next one up soon ‘cause it’s stomping around in my brain going ‘write me’

So please review it kicks me arse and gets me writing. Plus I love it when you guys try to guess what’s going on it not only gives me plot bunnies but it means I’m doing my job properly. The sign of a good story is when you try to make up the rest yourself.

Rambling now. Hope you enjoyed. Review me!
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By The Light