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Shared Flame	By : TheLadyMiya Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 58981 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 5
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I do not make any money writing this.

Chapter List
- 48
- 49
My dear readers. Here it is, the epilogue of Shared Flame. Enjoy.

Epilogue – 29 years later

Voldemort smiled at his reflection as he straightened his dark-green dress robe. It seemed fitting. He was, after all, going to celebrate his Slytherin daughter’s election to Minister for Magic. Alexandra had turned out exactly as he wanted her. At thirty-six, she was the youngest witch ever to become Minister. Not that anyone was surprised. Alexandra had everything a Minister could ever wish for. She was clever and well-read, very powerful magically, good-looking, and equipped with a charisma that was almost as good as his.

He was proud of her. He had guided her to this role right from the start, and it had paid off.

Fine, so Hermione had helped as well. It was mostly through Hermione’s involvement that Alexandra was as compassionate with minorities as she was. There would be a lot of changes for the statutes of magical creatures with Alexandra in power. Voldemort didn’t really care. It was enough that he had one of his own as Minister. Just like he was pleased that one of his own was making her way to become Headmistress of Hogwarts.

Sofia Granger-Foster had had a perfectly normal childhood, free from any fairies. At Hogwarts, she had been in Gryffindor (much to his dislike), and just five years after graduation, she had become the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor. Voldemort had his suspicions on why she had chosen that profession.

Just like Althea, Sofia had been troubled when she had found out her father was the Dark Lord. It had, however, been impossible to keep it from her. Althea in particular had been very vocal about telling Sofia the truth from the start. Voldemort suspected Sofia’s career choice was a type of rebellion. Either way, it didn’t matter much. The important thing was that Sofia had become a Professor at Hogwarts, and thus, Voldemort had control of the two most important places in the entire Wizarding World.

“Are you ready?” Hermione came out of the bathroom. She was wearing a tailored, dark-blue dress, her hair tied up in bun at the nap of her neck.

“Yes. You look very beautiful, kitten,” Voldemort said and walked over to kiss her.

Hermione chuckled. “Don’t you think I’m getting a bit old for that nickname? I did just turn sixty, after all.”

“You’ll always be young to me, kitten,” the one-hundred-and-thirteen-year-old answered haughtily. “Besides, what does age matter when one is immortal?”

She snorted. “Yes, well, do try and act your age this time.”

“You are never too old to kiss your wife!”

“A kiss is fine. Dragging me into a dark corner and massaging my arse while snogging is not considered normal at our age.”

Voldemort scoffed. “People are just too prudish.”

“I’m just saying we have to be careful so people won’t suspect anything. We still have some decades to go before we can fake our deaths and start a new life.”

Voldemort rolled his eyes. “Fine, no snogging in public.”

Right then, there was a knock on the door. Voldemort opened with a flick of his wand. Sofia stood outside, also dressed for the night in a bit too revealing red dress. He frowned at her.

Sofia, knowing her father, rolled her eyes. “Dad, I’m wearing the dress. It’s not like I have time to change it; the car is already here.”

She turned around again and left. Voldemort growled.

“Oh, will you let it go,” Hermione said with a sigh. “She is twenty-eight; she can wear whatever she wants.”

“Men will look at her,” Voldemort muttered darkly as they followed their youngest daughter.

“Let them. You can’t control who your daughters sleep with.”

Voldemort knew she was right, but he didn’t like it one bit. It was bad enough that Alexandra was engaged to a wizard. He didn’t want to think about whom Sofia could end up with. At least Alexandra had chosen a respectable Slytherin named Richard Pierce. He came from a good family, had graduated from Oxford, and had a promising career as a Potion maker. If only Voldemort’s first impression hadn’t been ruined by how he had met his soon-to-be son-in-law.

It had been early one Sunday morning. He had let himself into Alexandra’s flat to get a file he needed. Alexandra and he worked together a lot, and since he hadn’t found the file at his own place, he had suspected Alexandra had taken it. However, he had remembered her saying she was going away with a friend over the weekend, and thus, he could sneak into her flat without anyone noticing.

At least he had thought so. It turned out his daughter was better at lying to him than he had originally thought.

He had stepped into the flat and the first thing he had seen was a young man sitting by Alexandra’s kitchen table in nothing but a short, pink dressing gown, reading the Daily Prophet. Voldemort had whipped out his wand at once.

“Who are you?” he had growled, aiming his wand at the man.

The young man had jumped up, blushing furiously. “Professor Foster! I, eh, wha—”

“Dad! What are you doing here?” Alexandra had rushed out from the bedroom, only wearing an oversized t-shirt and knickers.

Voldemort slowly had lowered his wand, fighting the urge to kill the other man. Well, he wasn’t stupid; it was quite clear what the two had been up to.

“I came to see if you had the Philton file,” Voldemort had answered. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

Alexandra had scowled. “You could have knocked.”

“You told me you would be away for the weekend,” Voldemort had reminded her, crossing his arms. “Well?”

“This is Richard Pierce, my boyfriend. Richard, this is my father, Marcus Foster.”

“I know,” Pierce had said weakly, looking absolutely mortified. “Pleasure to meet you.”

Voldemort hadn’t shared the sentiment. “Since when do you have a boyfriend?”

Alexandra had rolled her eyes. “Since none of your business. And if you can’t see it, this is a rather bad time.” She had gone to the coffee table and picked up a file. “This is the one you wanted? Here you go. We can talk more at dinner tonight.”

She had basically pushed him out the door. Voldemort had later found out that Hermione had known about it for months, and not told him about it. His family clearly didn’t trust him to keep his temper.

Pushing the depressing thoughts of his daughter’s love-life aside, Voldemort escorted Hermione down to the car. As they made themselves comfortable in the back of the car, Voldemort regarded his youngest daughter, wondering if there were any chance she would remain single the rest of her life. Somehow, he doubted it. She was a spitting image of Hermione, but taller. Her hair had the same uncontrollable, brown locks; her figure was just as slim; and her eyes had the same brown colour, with the same intelligent spark. The difference was that she was a lot more social than Hermione had ever been, and even though Voldemort had never caught her with a boy, he was quite certain his daughter had had her fun.

“Do you think Althea will be there?” Sofia asked as the car drove them towards the Ministry for Alexandra’s inauguration party.

Hermione sighed. “I don’t know. I haven’t heard from her in a month, and then all she said was that she didn’t know when she would get back. I did Owl when Alex won the election though, but I didn’t get a response.”

Voldemort hid a grimace. He didn’t like thinking about Althea; it only made him aggravated. He had had plans for her as well, but once she had finished Hogwarts, she had made it clear that she wanted none of his involvement. She had gone three years to Oxford before dropping out, deciding she had found out everything she wanted to know there (even though she didn’t have the diploma to show it). After that, she had left to travel the world, and his contact with her the last ten years had been sporadic. She had only sent Owls to Hermione.

The last time he had seen him was over a year ago, at Christmas. Their talk then hadn’t gone very well.

“I know you have been dealing with the Dark Arts,” he had said as they had set the table for the family Christmas dinner.

“Are you going to lecture me?” Althea had seemed almost amused. “That’s rich, Voldemort.”

“I have a century of experience, Althea. I’m merely offering to teach you. The Dark Arts can be very … addictive. I don’t want you repeating my mistakes.”

“I’m sure,” Althea had sneered. “But we have very different motives. I don’t wish to control the world.”

“What do you want to do with them, then? Fight them?” He had scoffed, turning annoyed with her. “I see you, girl; you are already filled to the brink with it.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she had said, sending all the plates to their places with just a snap of her fingers.

Voldemort had not been impressed with the power display. “Don’t let your mother see you. She shouldn’t have to worry about you.”

Althea’s face had darkened so fast, Voldemort had been taken aback. “You mean like you have forced her to worry about you for thirty years? Are you worried she’s going to care more for me than for you all of a sudden?”

“Ah, so that’s why you are acting out with the Dark Arts. You want Mummy to pay attention to you,” he had said softly.

Althea’s eyes had flashed black. “You have no idea what I want.”

She had stalked out of the kitchen and he hadn’t had an opportunity to speak to her alone after that. The next morning, she had been gone again.

Voldemort was snapped out of his thoughts by the car arriving to the mansion where the inauguration would be held. Exiting the car, he flashed a brilliant smile to the gathered press. News reporters from all around the world had gathered. He offered Hermione his right arm, and Sofia his left, and they made their way up to the entrance. The Ministry really didn’t care about expenses when they were celebrating a new Minister. The mansion was owned by some old pure-blood family, who rented it to the Ministry on special occasions.

The celebration was mostly held for Ministry workers, and the people who had supported Alexandra in her run for Minister. Thus, everyone there was in a victorious mood. Voldemort smiled. He looked forward to the party. He and Alexandra had worked on her speech, which would tell everyone which direction she was going to take as Minister. With everyone celebrating, Voldemort knew they would be quite accepting to some of Alexandra’s (his) surprises. Add a bit of alcohol to that, no one would think anything was amiss.

Once they were inside the ballroom, Sofia excused herself. Voldemort saw her walking over to a group of people she knew from Hogwarts. Voldemort kept an eye on her, even though he was assaulted with people wanting to congratulate Hermione and him for their daughter’s achievement.

After about fifteen minutes, he saw someone coming up to Sofia, whispering something in her ear. Sofia nodded and quickly left the ballroom. Voldemort frowned. What was that about? He knew his daughter, and he could tell when something weird was going on.

He was just about to make an excuse to go and spy on her when the doors opened again and Alexandra entered together with Pierce. Cheers filled the room, and Voldemort mentally cursed. He couldn’t leave now.

Everyone applauded as Alexandra entered the podium that had been placed there for the occasion. She smiled at them and waited until they had all quieted down.

“Thank you all for being here tonight,” she said, her voice pleasant but still carrying easily through the room.

She was an excellent speaker, thanks to him.

“It’s because of all of you that I’m standing here. This isn’t just my night; this is everyone’s night”

Spontaneous cheers broke out around them.

Voldemort nodded, pleased. This was starting exactly as he had wanted.

“I know many of you have been wondering what exactly it is I want us to work for during my time as Minister. Like those before me, I want to make our world a better place. Of course, this is what every Minister wants, and we all know that some of them have been less than inspiring. Therefore, I wish to share with you who my inspiration has been: Kingsley Shacklebolt.”

Voldemort frowned as some people around them cheered again. She wasn’t supposed to say Kingsley. She was supposed to say Rebecca, her successor. Voldemort had worked hard on Rebecca to start setting the ball in motion that he wanted Alexandra to continue with. Kingsley had been too Muggle-friendly. But how could an experienced speaker like Alexandra say the wrong thing?

The bad feeling he had had ever since Sofia was called away increased as Alexandra’s speech continued. She had completely drifted away from what he had prepared for her. But he could see that she had prepared for this as well.

He looked down at his wife, but she didn’t look smug at all. He had been careful not to let her hear the original speech. Hermione knew him too well; she would have figured out what he was up to. But she hadn’t found out, and she didn’t seem to be behind this change. Could Alexandra have done this on her own?

Discreetly looking around the room, he noted that Sofia was still absent. Something was clearly going on here. Something that he was sure he wouldn’t like.

Alexandra finished, and the cheers around them became louder. As she stepped down from the podium, everyone milled up to congratulate her further. Voldemort stood back, anger growing inside him.

“What’s wrong?” Hermione asked. No one else would be able to see that he was angry, but she knew him too well.

“Has Alexandra talked to you about how she was going to do her speech?” Voldemort asked in a low voice.

Hermione arched an eyebrow. “No, she just said that she had been working on it with a few colleagues. Why?”

Voldemort didn’t answer. That was the lie he had told Alexandra to tell her mother.

“What did you do?” Hermione asked, her voice growing suspicious.

“She rehearsed a speech for me,” Voldemort said, not even lying. “That one wasn’t it.”

Hermione studied him for a short moment. “You gave her a speech, didn’t you? For crying out loud, I thought you knew she wanted to do this on her own!”

Voldemort rolled his eyes. “Well, apparently, she did.”

“What did you want her to say?” Hermione pressed, clearly getting annoyed.

“That doesn’t matter now.”

“Marcus,” she growled.

“Excuse me.” A young waiter came up to them. “Miss Granger-Foster wishes you to join her in the study one floor up. May I show you the way?”

Voldemort nodded and took Hermione’s arm as they followed the waiter out of the ballroom and up a flight of stairs. Whatever his daughter had been doing behind his back, he was sure he would find out now. Sofia was probably in on it as well. He knew he shouldn’t have let the girls become such good friends, but Hermione had insisted on it.

The waiter opened the door for them and then left. Voldemort stepped through the door, and the first thing he saw was Sofia sitting on the couch with Lily Potter of all people. They were talking to someone who was sitting in an armchair, the back turned to them. However, he recognised her before she even had turned her head.

“Althea,” he growled, understanding exactly who was behind this.

Althea smiled broadly and stood up. “Daddy.”

“Althea,” Hermione gasped in surprise. At once she rushed over and hugged her daughter tightly. “How long have you been back? Why didn’t you Owl me?”

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” Althea said, winking to Voldemort over her mother’s shoulder. “But of course I wouldn’t miss my little sister’s coronation.”

“Don’t you mean election?” Voldemort asked, closing the door behind him.

“What’s the difference?” Althea asked and finally let go of her mother.

Hermione studied her daughter, and Voldemort could see that something was bothering her. He knew what it was. The Dark Magic was coming off of her in waves. She must have just done something big for it to be this noticeable. That was probably why she hadn’t goaded him downstairs, where people could see them.

But that didn’t explain why she dared to goad him here, in front of Lily Potter of all people. His eyes travelled to his other daughter and noticed that she and Potter were holding hands.

Sofia took that opportunity to rise with Potter. “Well, now when that awkward moment is over, how about another one? Lily and I are engaged.”

Voldemort froze in horror. Hermione, however, gasped and went up to hug Sofia.

“Oh congratulations, honey! Engaged? I didn’t even know you were together.” Hermione hugged Lily as well.

“Well, with Dad and Harry hating each other, we thought it was best to wait until it was official,” Sofia said and smiled at Lily.

That made Voldemort even more horrified. “And does your girlfriend know why Harry and I don’t get along?”

“Yes, and I do understand Dad having trouble with you, considering how you killed his parents and all,” Lily said, clearly having inherited her parents’ boldness.

“You told her?” Voldemort asked in disbelief, starting at Sofia.

“No, that would be me,” Althea said smugly, coming up and putting an arm around Sofia’s shoulders. “She was worried about having a relationship built on lies, so I helped her to … get over the little issue that stopped her from telling Lily everything.”

Voldemort shouldn’t have been surprised his daughter had found a way around the curse. Hermione had a long time ago, and Althea might very well be even cleverer than Hermione. But it still shocked him that his daughters had gone behind his back and told a Potter who he really was.

“Althea, are you trying to get your father killed?” Hermione asked in a low, serious voice.

Althea seemed surprised at her mother’s question. “Not at all. None of us want to have people know we are Voldemort’s children. Lily won’t tell.”

“Oh, and I’m supposed to believe that, why?” Voldemort snarled, glaring at Potter.

Potter glared back. “Because I love Sofia. I don’t want to cause trouble for her.”

“Sorry, Dad, you’ll just have to learn to live with it,” Althea said sweetly.

Right then, the door opened again and Alexandra stepped through, grinning from ear to ear. She walked past Voldemort and hugged her older sister.

“Did you see it? They went ecstatic when I mentioned the education of other magical creatures,” Alexandra said happily. When she noticed the tension in the room, she let go of her sister. “Oh, you told them.”

“Alex knew, too?” Voldemort growled. Of all his daughters, he had never expected Alexandra to betray him. She was the good daughter! Then again, she had changed the speech. Clearly, he had underestimated her.

“Actually, she didn’t know about the engagement,” Sofia piped in.

“You’re engaged?” Alexandra exclaimed and then hugged her other sister and Potter, too. “It’s about time!”

Voldemort suddenly had a terrible feeling that something bad was about to happen. If the engagement weren’t what Alexandra had thought they were upset about, then what was it?

Althea must have seen his frown, because she smirked. “Oh, I think what Alex was worried about was that we had told you about the little change of plans. You see, you aren’t going to be Alex’s special adviser after all. Lily is.”

Next to him, he heard Hermione groan. “Oh, girls.”

Voldemort didn’t care about her. “What? I thought we had planned this, Alexandra.”

Alexandra crossed her arms. “No, you had planned this. Dad, I love you, and I appreciate all the help you have given me, but do you think I’m stupid? I don’t want to be your puppet. I want to do what I think is best, and that means I’ll choose people I know I can trust and who will help me achieve my goals. Lily has a lot of experience in this area, and we have been friends since she graduated from Hogwarts. She’s good at this, and I know she’ll do a good job without her own agenda.”

Voldemort let his eyes move from woman to woman. Lily and Alexandra looked defiant. Sofia seemed a little bit worried about her lover’s safety. Her hand was hovering close to her wand. But it was Althea that his eyes finally came to rest on. His oldest daughter looked triumphant.

“So you have stopped listening to me in favour of listening to Althea, changing from a Dark Wizard to a Dark Witch?” he asked.

Alexandra sighed and glanced at Althea. “Althea has helped me as well, yes, but I didn’t do this for her. I did this for myself. I don’t want to be controlled by anyone.”

Voldemort noticed that Althea looked extremely pleased. As clever as Alexandra was, she had always looked up to her big sister. Of course she couldn’t see that she was being played.

Hermione cleared her throat. “Well, Alex, of course we won’t stand in your way. This is your career, and you may do what you please. I’m sad you felt that you had to keep this from us, though.”

Alexandra looked a bit uncomfortable. “I didn’t mean to keep it from you. I just didn’t want there to be any problems before the election.”

Voldemort huffed. Hermione sent him a glare of warning. “Well, I’m glad you told us now. And we will still support you, of course.”

Alexandra smiled in relief. “Thanks, Mum.”

Voldemort kept staring at Althea. “Oh, yes, we will, of course, support you, Alex. But if you want to keep me at a distance, perhaps you should try to do the same to Althea.”

Althea snorted. “I’m not a former Dark Lord.”

“No, you are just on your way of becoming the next Dark Lady.”

“Okay!” Sofia broke in, placing a hand on Potter’s back. “I don’t think this is the place for this. Lily and I are going downstairs to mingle for a bit.”

“Good idea, but I want you two to come over for dinner tomorrow night,” Hermione said. “I want to celebrate. Oh, and have you told your parents yet, Lily?”

“No, but we are having lunch with them tomorrow. We’ll tell them then,” Lily replied.

“Well, make sure to tell them that Marcus and I won’t cause any problems for the two of you, and we will be civil on the wedding, so they needn’t worry.”

“Don’t be so sure of that,” Voldemort growled, stepping up to Potter. “Why on earth would I trust you? You claim to love Sofia now, but what if that changes?” He leaned in closer. “I suggest you do tell your parents about this, and then, they will tell you exactly what I’m willing to do to keep this secret.”

“Marcus,” Hermione growled, coming up to Voldemort and pulling him back. “If our daughters trust Lily, then we can trust her, too.”

Voldemort opened his mouth to tell her exactly why they couldn’t trust anyone outside (and apparently inside) of his family, but Hermione grabbed his hand tighter.

“Do you really want your daughters to continue thinking the worse of you? The reason they have gone behind your back is because they don’t trust you. Do you really want to keep doing this?” she asked him telepathically.

Voldemort fumed, but could see the reasoning behind her words, and thus, he kept quiet. He didn’t want his daughters to turn on him, after all. He wanted them to work for him, just as Hermione did.

“Very well,” Voldemort growled, turning his focus on his youngest daughter who had now moved between him and her lover. “I hope you know what you are doing, Sofia.”

“I do,” Sofia said, meeting his gaze firmly.

Voldemort nodded stiffly, and allowed them to pass.

They left the room. However, the tension in the room didn’t leave with them. Clearly, Sofia had anticipated the storm, which was about to occur between him and Althea, and wanted her girlfriend out of the warzone. Such a shame. It would have sorted a lot of his problems if Potter were hit with a stray curse, preferably from Althea. Oh well, that was a later problem. Right now, he had bigger issues.

Voldemort and Althea stared at each other, willing the other one to lose patience first.

“Oh no, you don’t,” Hermione growled and came to stand between them, turning to Voldemort. “I can see what you are thinking, and you are not starting a duel here, especially not with your own daughter.”

She turned around and addressed Althea instead. “And you should not be challenging your father like this. If you want to rebel, do it in your own way, not by turning into him.”

Althea’s eyes widened. “I’m nothing like him!”

Hermione sighed. “I’m afraid you are. After finishing Hogwarts, you have done the exact same thing he did when he finished Hogwarts. You have even travelled deep into the realms of the Dark Arts. I can see it, too. Please, don’t turn into him.”

Althea looked down, but her forehead wrinkled, and Voldemort could see she didn’t agree with her mother. Voldemort didn’t say anything. He knew Althea would never turn into him. She was too much like her mother. However, more often than not, Hermione ignored exactly how dark she was, so it wasn’t strange that she only saw Voldemort in Althea. But if Hermione could keep her darkness at bay, so could Althea. Learning the Dark Arts wasn’t the same as turning into a Dark Lady. Although, since it benefited him if Hermione were focused on Althea, he didn’t say anything. Althea’s mischief had destroyed his plans. He would have to come up with new ones, and that would be easier if Hermione didn’t concentrate too much on him.

Thus, it was a good thing that he was immortal. He could wait until Althea was dead before he started forming new plans of controlling the world.

Alexandra cleared her throat. “Well, now that all of that is out in the open, I think I have to go downstairs again. Otherwise, people will start asking questions.”

“Before you go,” Voldemort said, stroking his wand, “did you tell Richard about me?”

Alexandra snorted. “That you are Voldemort? No, I’m not a Gryffindor like Sofia. I can have my secrets; he can have his.”

He regarded her, trying to figure out if she were lying or not (clearly, she was very good at it). But then he decided that he would just pay her fiancé a visit later on to see for himself. However, her words did seem reasonable. She was a Slytherin after all.

“We’ll see you tomorrow at dinner then, Alex,” Hermione said.

“Okay, Mum,” Alexandra said, and went up to her again. She kissed her cheek before walking out of the room.

That left only them with Althea.

“I want you to be there tomorrow, too, Althea,” Hermione said, her voice stern. “We are going to have a serious talk about those Dark Arts.”

“Don’t worry, Mum, I’ll be there tomorrow,” Althea said. “But for Alexandra’s future career, I don’t think I should go down to the party now. I’ll see you, then.”

She Disapparated on the spot.

Hermione sighed and turned to Voldemort again. “I guess we can’t be surprised that our daughters have been keeping things from us.”

Voldemort shrugged, pretending not to care when inside he was seething with rage. Minions could never be trusted, apparently not even the ones of your own flesh and blood. Only Hermione, but then, their bond was magical and not by blood.

Hermione took his hand. “I know this must be hard for you. Alexandra always seemed to adore you. And I think she still does; she just listens to Althea more.”

“I don’t care,” Voldemort said, suppressing the feeling of hurt that had indeed been in his chest since he had heard the new speech.

Hermione sighed, took his hand and led him over to the couch, making him sit down. “It’s okay. All parents get disappointed in their children sooner or later. You would never have been able to control them completely. They take after us, after all.”

Voldemort was silent as Hermione straddled his lap and kissed him again.

“You should be proud of them. They have achieved so much, and will achieve so much more. Even if it’s not the exact same way you envisioned, you still had a part in that. They are a much better legacy than anything else you have done.”

She kissed him again, her hands travelling down his chest. “Besides, it isn’t as if they will be the last way you can hope to influence the world. We are immortal now, after all. In another thirty or forty years, we’ll start a new life, with new possibilities.”

Voldemort sighed and closed his eyes. She was right, of course. He had many lifetimes to change the world. What was the rush? He would just make sure to do it himself the next time.

“Promise me one thing,” he said in a low voice.

“What?” she asked, starting to unbutton his shirt.

“Let’s not have any children the next time around. Just you and me, enjoying life.”

Hermione chuckled. “Fine, I think I can do without children of my own, but if any of our daughters get children, I’ll want to check up on them from time to time.”

“As do I,” Voldemort said. Finally, he brought his hands up to her body, lifting her skirt.

Hermione smiled at him. “Now, let’s fuck.”

THE END

A/N: It is always bittersweet to finish a story, but this one has been very important for me in many levels, and yet, it’s very fitting to finish this now. When I began writing this story, over three years ago, I was deeply depressed and about to go on sick leave. I wrote the first 20 chapter of this story while on sick leave, and I think this story was one of the few things that made life worth living.

Now, when I’m writing this, I’m on sick leave again, but this time, there is hope. Three weeks ago, I had surgery and years of pain got an explanation. Now there is actually hope that I’ll become better. Not be in pain so much.

On top of that, I’ve somehow managed to receive a master’s degree in history with highest honours.

Thus, as these struggles end, so does Shared Flame. I want to thank every one of you who have stood by me during this time. My wonderful betas, Nerys, Shan and Serpent in Red who have supported me and made this story better than I could ever have done it. And to all my readers. Sometimes, your reviews are what have made me fight on. To receive a thousand reviews is more than I could ever imagine, and I’m deeply humbled.

Thank you.

Frid vare med er.
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