Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Time's Up	By : Gotbooks00 Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Blaise Views: 23286 -:- Recommendations : 4 -:- Currently Reading : 6
Disclaimer: I own many things, but not any recognizable characters, things, or places in the Harry Potter series. Somehow, I doubt that JKR would agree to joint custody…shame, that. Also, no profit is being made from the writing or posti

Chapter List
- 1-Time's Up
- 2-TWO
- 3-THREE
- 4-FOUR
- 5-FIVE
- 6-SIX
- 7-SEVEN
- 8-EIGHT
- 9-NINE
- 10-TEN
- 11-ELEVEN
- 12-TWELVE
- 13-THIRTEEN
- 14-FOURTEEN
- 15-FIFTEEN
- 16-SIXTEEN
- 17-SEVENTEEN
- 18-EIGHTEEN
- 19-NINETEEN
- 20-TWENTY
- 21-TWENTY ONE
- 22-TWENTY TWO
- 23-TWENTY THREE
- 24-TWENTY FOUR
- 25-TWENTY FIVE
- 16
- 17
- 18
Time’s Up, by Gotbooks93

Summary: After successfully hiding the existence of her son for eight years, Hermione is out of luck and out of time. When the father of her child discovers her secret, their quiet worlds are changed forever. Will things become better, or worse? Join Hermione and Xander as they find out.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Sitting quietly at her desk at Hogwarts, Hermione scratched off another item on her ‘To Do’ list, titled “Finish Fourth Year’s Curriculum”. The simple action gave her a vast amount of satisfaction. She had managed to comply with the ministry’s standards without making the class an utter bore, not an easy feat.

The next item on her list had several stars and arrows surrounding it, and she realized she couldn’t put it off any longer. It wasn’t an unpleasant task; Hermione actually found the duty quite enjoyable. However, it tended to be rather draining, both physically and emotionally.

The item was titled “Visit Muggleborn families, Arrange for Diagon Alley trip.” As a staff member at Hogwarts, one of her responsibilities was to visit the homes of first- year muggle born students, and take some of them to Diagon Alley. For the vast majority of them, their magic was a joyous but terrifying revelation. Other families, though, saw the announcement was unwelcome.

Although Hermione hadn’t ever encountered any parents as adamantly against magic as the Dursleys, she had gotten some very negative feedback. Extremely religious families, or those that were firm believers of the muggle sciences, tended to be more reluctant to understand. There was usually at least one student who declined to attend Hogwarts, going to muggle secondary school instead.It was always hard for Hermione to accept the parent’s decision, especially when it contradicted with their child’s wishes. The idea of a muggleborn student missing out on the wonders of Wizarding society was a hard pill to swallow.

Summoning the small pile of parchments out of her staff cubby, Hermione reached for the list of students she had been assigned for the year. Professor Fenster, Hermione, Neville, and the Headmistress all divvied up the muggleborns for the year, so she only had ten students to visit. The next day was a Friday, perfect to begin the visits.

Looking further down the list, she noted several other things she had to accomplish before the start of the school year in a week and a half. She needed to pick up Xander’s supplies for his own school year, give their rooms one last proper cleaning, tweak the sixth year’s curriculum, and take Noemi to her parent’s house.

The young Zabini had sent the appropriate paperwork to Hermione the day before. Attached was a note detailing her intention to tell her parents about Charleston that week. Hermione’s heart went out to the young woman- she suspected the outcome would be unpleasant.

Hermione accomplished several other tasks before she headed for the door to her rooms. Xander stood at the window in the living room, using the evening light outside to read a scroll of parchment. Blaise’s owl was perched on the window sill, perfectly still. Personally, Hermione found the noble bird a little creepy, and its razor- sharp talons were intimidating.

“Father wants to know if we can come over to dinner tonight.” Xander said distractedly, noticing Hermione’s appearance in his peripheral vision. “We’re welcome to stay the night, too.”

Hermione glanced at the clock on the mantle, weighing their options. Since they had returned from Italy the day before, Hermione found herself wishing Blaise was with them at Hogwarts. The remaining days of their vacation had been fantastic- she had spent the days laying on the hot sun of the beach, reading or playing with Xander. Her nights were equally pleasant, filled with the feel and smell of Blaise. Hermione had been sad to leave the private oasis, although she had a healthy tan for a souvenir.

Pulling herself back to the present, she agreed to Blaise’s proposal, sending Xander scurrying off to find parchment and a quill. A positive reply was carried away minutes later, leaving Hermione and Xander to hurriedly pack their respective overnight bags. She couldn’t help but notice the skip in Xander’s step as he prepared to see his father’s house for the first time.

~(o)~

Although the outside structure and surrounding gates were terribly similar to their Italian counterparts, Zabini Manor in England gave off a vastly different vibe. Here, the upstairs windows were thrown open, letting in fresh air and sunshine. The side garden was in full bloom, and birds chirped merrily in the stately trees lining the driveway.

As she and Xander walked down the path, Hermione clasping her son’s hand, she let a faint smile tug at the corners of her mouth. Although she had only been to the manor a few times, most of the memories of the place were very dear to her. She and Blaise had spent many days laying in the tree’s shade, weaving in and out of the garden paths.

The man in question appeared moments later. Hermione and Xander began to climb the sun- drenched steps that led to the massive front doors when they were thrown open. Blaise stepped into their space.

“Ah, my two favorite people.” He greeted, smiling broadly. Hermione couldn’t remember the last time he had beamed so fully.

“Father!” said Xander, moving quickly beside him. “Is this really your house?” he asked.

“It is indeed.” Blaise confirmed, squatting down so that they were at the same level. “I can’t wait to show it all to you. We can go see the Quidditch pitch Uncle Draco and I set up when we were kids, and your room, and-”

“I have a room?” asked Xander excitedly.

Blaise smiled widely again, nodding. “Of course. I’ve been setting it up. But first, we must collect your mother.” At this, he stood back up to his full height, looking at Hermione.

Hermione had paused on a step a few stairs down, just watching her son and his father interact. She swallowed thickly, internally chiding herself for being over- emotional. Still, the ease and love between the two of them was almost unreal.

“Look at her, Alexander.” Blaise stage- whispered to their son. “Isn’t she the loveliest woman you’ve ever seen?”

Hermione blushed prettily before stepping into the shade of the house. Looking around the foyer, she looked around as Blaise gathered their bags from her, kissing her cheek in greeting. “It’s funny,” she mused. “Nothing much seems to have changed in the last nine years…well, except for that.” The last comment was a bit puzzled in tone as she stared at the foyer’s latest addition.

The item in question was a large, square framed piece of artwork, situated on the wall between a pastoral scene and a snoozing Zabini ancestor. She stifled a gasp as she took in the full details of the swirls and straight lines. It was a wizarding painting of the old ‘Magic Is Might’ monument that once stood in the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic. The real structure had been torn down directly after Voldemort’s second fall from power, but the memory of the stone images still made her a bit uneasy. In the painting before her, she could see the twisted, unseemly faces of the muggle men, women, and children, as they struggled under the weight of their burden. The serene but powerful faces of the witch and wizard upon their throne still disgusted her. But why would Blaise have such a terrible memento on the walls of his own home?

Her answer was given when she looked at Blaise’s face. He no longer smiled, and a scowl twisted his lips. His fingers gave a sharp snap, and a second crack followed a moment later. The second sound was accompanied by the appearance of a house elf, who bowed lowly in front of Blaise.

“Yes, Master?” the old elf enquired.

“Jeb,” Blaise began, his eyes locked on the offensive painting. “Where did that painting come from?”

Jeb turned around, looking. “Ah, Master, the old Mistress Zabini is putting that there while the Master was away.” He began. “But she is telling elves to say nothing of it. But the old Mistress is always adding new things to the Master’s manor, she is.”

“She still does that, then?” Hermione asked, her tone wry. “Re- decorates the house with every tacky thing she can get her hands on?”

Blaise sighed. “I’m afraid so.” He said, “Normally I find it at least vaguely amusing, but this has gone too far. Jeb, I want that thing removed and destroyed immediately. Should it have any sticking charms or jinxes on it, I give you permission to use the full extent of your magic.”

Jeb nodded sagely. “Jeb will be taking care of it himself, he will. Is Master ready to introduce all the Zabini elves to Lady Granger and the young master?”

Blaise inhale deeply, letting out the air in a great gust. “I suppose so.”

Four ‘pop’s followed this agreement as new elves apparated into the room. They lined up on the shiny tile of the foyer floor. Je was clearly the oldest of the bunch, and took command of the other elves without delay. “I is being Jeb, and this is being Snitch, Carlou, Quin, and Lonnie.” He began, looking at Hermione and Xander when he introduced his fellow creatures. She noticed the young female elf, Quinn, had a very large bulge in her toga, and guessed she was heavily pregnant.

Hermione smiled and nodded politely when each elf was introduced, although their focus was clearly centered on Xander. “This is being the young master?” squeaked Lonnie. Hermione suspected she was a female elf, although she admitted it was sometimes hard to tell.

Xander shrugged a little, looking to Blaise. “He is the next Zabini heir, yes.” Blaise said, and a string of excited squeaks followed the announcement. “His name is Alexander.”

“And this is being Lady Granger.” Jeb continued gesturing to Hermione. “She is being the young master’s mother.”

The elves bowed again, although one on the end , Carlou, didn’t bow quite as graciously as his comrades. His small face looked a tad wary. “Lady Granger? Is you being Lady Hermione Granger, the muggleborn witch friend of Harry Potter?” he asked.

At first, Hermione thought his tone was due to her heritage. However, as she watched the other elves face’s transform into expressions of horror instead of disgust, she grew puzzled. “That’s right.” She confirmed.

“I is hearing of you from the Hogwarts elves.” Carlou continued, looking down at his feet. “They is saying Lady Hermione Granger is trying to give Hogwarts elves clothes.” The last word was a hiss, and the pregnant elf, Quinn, gave a little cry of dismay.

Hermione cringed. Her reputation seemed to have proceeded her. Although S.P.E.W. was still a cause that was dear to her heart, she had been forced to abandon it years earlier. When she had first begun to teach at Hogwarts, she had re-started her practice of leaving knitted items of clothing around her rooms and office in an effort to free the Hogwarts elves. Professor McGonagall had tried to convince her to cease, to no avail. It was only one day, after weeks of her knitting, that she was forced to admit defeat.

In retaliation to the unwelcome hats, socks, and scarves, the elves had begun to sabotage her meals. Meat was half- cooked, rotten fruit was served, and more than one suspicious- looking glass of milk was set on her table. Hermione suspected the dietary abuse would cease the moment the clothes did, but she persisted. Her only reassurance was that the food served to Xander was always without reproof, fresh and fully cooked. It was several weeks after this war had begun that Xander had snuck several pieces of undercooked meat of her plate; the poor toddler was sick with food poisoning the rest of the night. Unable to bear the guilt, Hermione waved a metaphorical white flag in surrender, and packed away the planted clothing. Their meals returned to their usual, impeccable standard.

Although the incident had occurred half a dozen years prior, elves apparently had very long memories- and discussed these memories with each other. “I’ll admit, I am adamantly in favor of elf rights,” Hermione began, addressing the obvious unease of the Zabini elves. “but I’ve learned my lesson. You can’t free someone who doesn’t want freedom. Is it safe to assume none of you desire freedom?” she asked.

The five elves nodded quickly, their tennis ball sized eyes wide with fear and hope. “Very well,” she continued, “then from me, you have nothing to fear.” Her announcement spurred a series of relieved- sounding sighs, and much less distrustful expressions. As they popped back out of the room, Xander spoke up.

“Father, is Quin going to have a baby elf?” he asked.

Blaise nodded, walking toward the doorways that lead to the rest of the manor. “She’s due any day now, if I’m not mistaken.” He confirmed. “Now, I want you to meet two other members of my household, although your mother is already acquainted. Brutus! Duke!”

Brutus and Duke bounded around the corner, their claws scrabbling against the slick tile. Hermione fought the urge to step back as their massive forms came hurtling toward them, reminding herself that the two were gentle giants, as long as Blaise liked you.

Obeying a stern command to “sit” from Blaise, the half- Doberman, half- Mastiffs rested their giant heads against Blaise’s legs, their tongues lolling out to the sides. Xander, not terribly well aquatinted with any dogs besides Fang, shied away a little. After some prompting from his father, though, he was soon enamored with the canine familiars.

Blaise began the tour of the manor, pointing out interesting artwork and guiding them into various rooms. A few memorable pieces of furniture caught her attention, and she recalled numerous times she and Blaise had ‘christened’ various rooms. While she blushed scarlet, Blaise would catch her eye and grin wickedly at her. Thankfully, Xander was too enamored with his surroundings to notice. Again and again, he would ask for stories of Blaise’s childhood, especially now that he could put a setting with the tales. Duke and Brutus continually nudged their noses against his palms, asking to be petted.

After a quiet, informal dinner, the trio settled into the manor’s library. Blaise was seated at his oversized desk- Hermione wondered if giant, wooden desks were a requirement for wealthy pureblood households- while Xander wandered the stacks of books. Hermione meandered over to Blaise’s chair, leaning against him. She ran her fingers through his thick, dark locks, gently scratching his scalp with her nails.

“Hmmm that feels good,” Blaise said, leaning into her touch. He handed her something a minute later. “Look at this before I forget again.”

The item was an envelope, Blaise’s name written across the front. Extracting the contents, Hermione realized it was a wedding invitation. It was printed on creamy, thick parchment, the type looking elegant and professional.

You are formally invited to the impending nuptials of

Draco Lucius Malfoy and Amanda Tessa Jones

On the Twenty- Second day of November at eleven o’clock in the morning.

Ceremony will be followed by a reception at one o’clock in the afternoon. Both will occur at Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire, England. Dress is formal.

Please RSVP by the twenty- second of October by owl.

Hand written in a loopy, girlish script underneath was a postscript from Mandy. It read ‘Blaise, please bring along Hermione and Xander to the wedding. Draco and I would both be delighted to have them present. If they can attend, please include it in the RSVP! ~M

Hermione beamed, genuinely touched. While she was hardly Draco Malfoy’s biggest fan, she rather liked Mandy. Her down- to earth personality both contrasted and complemented Draco’s, and she was anxious to watch them interact.

“That’s lovely.” Hermione said, settling onto the arm of Blaise’s chair, leaning her head against his. “I imagine it will be the wedding of the decade, knowing the Malfoys.”

“Hmm, perhaps.” Blaise said, and Hermione looked up at him, brows raised. But his eyes were set resolutely on the paperwork in front of him- investment forms, by the look of them.

Attributing his comment to distraction, Hermione rose, going to find a book.

~(o)~

Hermione was having the most wonderful dream. Her body was awash with sensation, and she gave little whimpers and moans of delight as the sensations grew. Trapped somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, she was a slave her senses. She was unable to truly focus on any one feeling or bit of reality, simply allowing herself to be carried along on the tide of delicious feeling.

Before long, though, she began to truly regain full awareness. The sensations began to emanate directly from the apex of her legs, and she rolled her hips a little as she opened her eyes. Propped on his forearms above her was Blaise, gently rocking his thick manhood in and out of her opening. With each thrust, his body brushed her clit, sending a bolt of pleasure through her body.

Seeing her eyes were open, Blaise gave a drowsy smile, bending down to kiss her possessively. As he claimed her mouth, Hermione reveled in his dominance over her body. Outside the bedroom, she was fully in control of her life and decisions, and they both knew it. Inside the bedroom, though, she allowed her lover to control her needs and desires. They both reveled in the feeling.

One hand rubbed a tender nipple between two fingers, while another kept a firm grip on her hip. “Your body was made for me, dolce cuore.” He murmured into her ear, his warm breath sending goose bumps down her neck. He gave another lazy thrust into her welcoming heat, and Hermione rocked her hips, and his toned thighs spread hers even wider, hooking them over the top of his own. He slid even further into her body.

Before long Hermione came with a quiet gasp, Blaise with a moan. In her post-cotial haze, Hermione thought that the feeling of Blaise’s body, pulsing strongly within her own, was one of her favorite sensations in the entire world.

~(o)~

Their faces were predictably skeptical. Seated side- by- side on a beige sofa, Mary and Logan Uley were the muggle parents Hermione was currently trying to convince of magic. Their daughter Kylie was already seated in an armchair to their left, looking excited but doubtful.

“Mr. and Mrs. Uley, I know what I’m saying may seem like madness, but I think I can change your mind if you’ll allow me to perform a bit of basic magic. If you don’t mind, I’ll change your sugar bowl into a pin cushion. Rest assured, I can turn it back without delay. May I?” Hermione asked, putting on her best ‘I’m- A- Non- Threatening- Professional’ face.

After gaining doubtful nods from both muggles, she quickly transfigured the tea tray’s sugar bowl into the promised pin cushion, which came complete with several multi- colored pins sticking into it. The transformation gathered shocked gasps from the room’s populace, and Kylie burst into applause. Her parents continued to stare at the tray, silent.

Flicking her wand and subsequently changing the item back to its original form, Hermione re- took her seat. She was dressed in all- muggle attire for the day’s activities: a heather- gray suit, with a simple pearl necklace as her only jewelry. Although Neville and Professor McGonagall both wore full wizarding dress robes to meet Hogwart’s potential pupils, Hermione found that her professional, muggle attire tended to make the muggle- wizard gap easier to bridge.

“So, so this is the sort of thing Kyle will be learning, should he attend this school? Pigwarts?” her mother asked hesitantly, managing to tear her eyes from the sugar bowl.

“Hogwarts,” Corrected Hermione easily, smiling genially. “And yes, that was an example of what she’ll learn in her Transfiguration class. In her first year, she would also be enrolled in Potions, Herbology, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Astronomy, History of Magic, and Charms, which I teach.”

“And are all of the students born to- muggles, was it?- like Kylie?” Her father asked, leaning forward a little.

“We usually have around one hundred and forty new students per year,” Hermione answered, re- sheathing her wand. It appeared that she had convinced the muggle couple that magic did, indeed exist, as did Hogwarts. “Around forty of them are from entirely non-magical backgrounds, like Kylie. Once they arrive at Hogwarts, they’re sorted into one of four houses. I actually have a few pamphlets that will give you a rather good idea of what to expect…” Pulling the mentioned leaflets out of her satchel, Hermione began to go into detail over the costs, curriculum, and supplies associated with Hogwarts. Before long she had managed to win over the support and confidence of the Uleys, and scheduled a date to collect Kylie and bring her to Diagon Alley for supplies.

She was the last of Hermione’s first- years to visit that day, and was overjoyed that she had received all positive responses to her scholastic invitations. Gathering her things, Hermione shook hands with all three family members before exiting the home, making sure not to apparate until she was well out of their sight. Best not to overwhelm the muggles too much, if you asked her.

Hermione’s arrival in her parent’s back garden was only marked by a faint ‘pop’, unnoticed by everyone except the neighbor’s dog. Winding her way between rose bushes, she slipped in the back door, listening closely. Hearing the faint murmur of voices coming from her father’s study, Hermione walked down the hallway, her heals clicking briskly.

Gently pushing open the door, she smiled faintly at what she found. Her father and mother were slouched over in their chairs, looking tired but agreeable. On the leather ottoman opposite them was Noemi, a long roll of parchment draping across her legs and pooling on the floor. Small, precise handwriting covered the page.

“So, these health clinics you were talking about- Pharmacies, right?” Noemi was asking. “They give out little bits of hardened medicine, called ‘pills’ and they’re supposed to make you better? But they take a lot longer than magic, right?” She bent over her parchment, writing with a ball point pen. Her strait, pale gold hair spilled over her shoulder, onto the paper.

Noemi’s usually detached public persona had dropped, only to be replaced by a clinical, studious tone as she continued to take notes on what Hermione’s parents said. As a matter of fact, she was so involved with the information she had failed to notice Hermione’s presence in the room. ‘If she’s the same way in school, she’ll be Charleston’s star pupil.’ Hermione mused proudly.

Early that morning, Noemi had apparently arrived an hour after the sun had risen, snapping orders at the manor’s elves. Hermione suspected the teen donned her icy, aloof façade when she was upset, a coping mechanism she had developed during a life with an absent father and an unloving step- mother. Originally, Hermione had planned to wait for the Ice Queen mask to defrost, but the plan was quickly dismissed. After Noemi shot a scathing comment at Xander, Hermione had dragged the teen into a side room. Quickly nipping the problem in the bud, she explained her behavior was unacceptable. Noemi had quickly dropped the pretense and apologized to both Hermione and Xander.

When she heard Hermione would be venturing outside the manor for the day, she had politely asked to meet Teresa and Thomas, in order to get a better grip on muggle culture. Apparently, the day had yielded fruit, if Noemi’s long scroll of information was anything to go by.

As she stepped fully into the room, she glanced up at Hermione, looking surprised. She seemed to become aware of the late evening hour, and sprang from her seat.

“I’m so terribly sorry!” she exclaimed, her tone a little stilted. Although she had cast a translation charm on herself, the English words were still accented. “I did not realize what the time was.”

The Doctors Granger smiled in unison, their expressions both welcoming and relieved. “We’re glad we could help fill in the blanks.” Teresa replied. “I think you’ll do fine, though, if you’re careful. Please feel free to give us a ring on the phone if you have any more questions.”

“Mum, I’m not sure Noemi would know how to use a phone-” Hermione began.

“Oh no, Hermione, your father was kind enough to let me try out several of the muggle appliances, including the telephone, and the macroweave-”

“Microwave.” Corrected Thomas.

“Right, microwave, and the telly- vision. It’s all quite brilliant, I think. And not at all the way I thought it would look, from what I learned in Muggle Studies.”

Hermione smiled faintly, seeing Noemi’s passion for the new experiences. “Well, I’m glad you learned so much. But we better be going, we’re meeting Xander and Blaise for dinner.”

After a quick goodbye, Hermione and Noemi left out the front door, walking down the paved sidewalk in the cool evening air. The sun had set, but the sky was still a lighter shade of blue.

“Your parents are quite lovely.” Noemi commented quietly, “I can’t help but be a little envious, though. It must have been nice to have people so supportive of you when you were growing up.”

Hermione hummed in agreement. “Mum and Dad always asked about how my classes were going, and what new magic I was learning when I was in school. They tried very hard, I think, to understand what it was like to have magic. But at the same time, I don’t really think they ever fully understood what it was like for me to be part of a different culture, a different society. I didn’t want them to be hurt, or to worry, when the war was going on, so I replaced their memories. Told them they didn’t have a daughter, and they moved to Australia. One of the hardest things I ever had to do, and one of the riskiest.”

Noemi was quiet, and they continued to walk the streets of the suburb. Sprinklers turned on as they passed, watering lawns and adding a mechanical backdrop of sound. “I won’t lie. Plenty of times, I’ve thought about running away from my father and Natalia.” Noemi said suddenly. “They’re not horrid, but they’re self- centered and have impossible standards. Still, though the idea of them not knowing who I was, of just erasing myself from their memories…it might be selfish, but I don’t know if I could do that.”

Hermione nodded, looking over the neatly mowed lawns and brightly lit windows of the houses around her. “Everyone has their limits.” She agreed. “Some of us meet ours earlier than others, and some people can’t quite manage to get past the barriers in life, no matter how hard they try.”

Again, the silence continued as they walked, and Hermione’s mind was back on the hardest days of the war. Seeing friends die before her eyes, and facing the terrible capabilities of humanity had left her mind with too many scars. It had changed them all, and torn apart things that could never be repaired. Yes, they all had their limits.

“Hermione?” asked Noemi. “About limits. Did…did Blaise cross one of yours?”

Shocked, Hermione stopped walking, turning to face Noemi. The other girl’s crystal blue eyes met her’s dead-on. “I’ve asked Blaise again and again about what separated the two of you before Alexander was born, and he never tells me. What happened that night? Did he cross one of your limits? What tore you apart?”

Hey Guys,

That’s right, folks. Next chapter is where the truth comes out about Blaise and Hermione’s break up. I am so excited. This chapter is mostly a giant ball of fluff- nothing new. But of course, I can’t leave them alone for too long. Next chapter has some angst/ drama in the outline, so I hope you’re all ready for it. It’s going to set the scene for the next several chapters. Any guesses on what’s going to happen?

I hope everyone had a lovely Christmas, and Boxing Day, for those of you who celebrate it! (I’m a little embarrassed to say I don’t entirely understand the purpose of the holiday. Is there actual boxing involved?) Is anyone willing to explain it to me?

The only excuse I can give for the lateness of this update is ‘real life got in the way.’ I’m actually traveling at the moment, and using McDonald’s WiFi to post this while my sister fills the car up on gasoline. If that doesn’t convince you all of my devotion to my readers, I don’t know what will. Also, no one beta’ed this chapter, so the mistakes are all mine.

With any luck, updates will become much more regular after this. Leave a review for a sneak- peek, as usual. Otherwise, I’ll see you all on Monday.

Bon Voyage,

Gotbooks93
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