AUTHOR'S NOTES:
Hello everyone! I'm sorry it took me so long yet again, but I have my reasons, be sure... I'm in my first year of University now, hoping not to fail anything, so I just haven't got much time left for anything. Plus, and very importantly, I also have had to spend a considerable amount of my time in putting my plot together, you know... It's getting quite complicated, as you may see... And all I want is for it to turn out right in the end and not to disappoint you guys.
So there goes my apology, I hope that you understand.
Anyway, as always, I'm ever so glad that I received so many reviews, it has been extremely encouraging from you, thanks a lot!
Now on to chapter 16. Enjoy!
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter or any of JK Rowling's amazing characters. However the plot and the new characters are all mine.
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Chapter XVI: SOMEWHERE IN A GOLDEN CAGE...
"It's got to be here, somewhere," uttered a young blonde as he walked through thick vines, holding his white horse's reigns. "Damn it! If only that pillock hadn't blocked every other way to his chateau it would be so much easier, wouldn't it?" he added, feeling both tired and hungry
His eyes looked sore and weary, yet his look was determined and sharp. His arms had been repeatedly scarred by all sorts of wild hawthorns, but he wasn't even close to quitting, and the only thing that kept his legs going was the same motive that put them in motion in the first place...
"I used to be quite a frequent guest at the Dark Lord's castle," he thought, remembering the times of war.
The truth was that, in those days, it wasn't all that reliable to travel by portkey, not to mention the floo network. During the war, most alternate means of transport had been intervened or altered to the convenience of one or another side.
Apparating seemed to be the most eligible source at hand, but Schattemburg, the Dark Lord's castle, was expected to have high security measures, that would frustrate any uninvited guests in their attempt to enter the castle. Hence Draco's apparently endless wondering in search of the only tangible entrance, known as the Nebula gateway, of which he had only heard of, but never had the need to use. After all, they used to receive him quite fondly back in the days.
"I hope she's alright," he pleaded mentally, unable to remove that intrepid red-head from his mind. "I swear if he puts one finger, just one finger on her I'll make sure it is the last thing he does," he added, ripping a bush that obstructed his way.
The thought of another man abusing her in any way seemed to burn his stomach. And he knew how it felt, oh yes he knew; the view if Ginny lying unconscious next to Blaise Zabini would remain carved to his mind forever.
That all too familiar feeling of impotence seemed to haunt him still, like a ghost.
Then a recent memory hit him like ice.
: Flashback :
"See you wouldn't believe me?" she sadly reproached.
Draco remained in reflective silence, pacing from one side to another, with his forefinger over his lips, until he finally stopped and pierced her with an icy look.
"You wanna know what I believe in?" he inquired. "I believe you're making it all up!" he yelled. "Yes, I believe you think you're so god damn perfect, that I'm not even good enough for you, 'cause I'm not Potter, am I right?"
"Draco, its'-"
"But you do need someone to stay by your side anyway, don't you? A woman has her needs..."
"Stop it!"
"So you use me, forgetting about my feelings, as well as everybody else!"
"No, Draco. Stop it! I don't want to hear any more of this," she yelled, deeply hurt by his words.
"Aww... you don't? Well, I'm so sorry to disturb your perfect ears, your royal highness, but you'll have to listen to me anyway!" he blurted out.
: End of Flashback :
The blonde pressed his eye lids together and cringed at the distant sound of those words.
"What a blockhead," he hissed, cursing the moment he had lost his temper like that.
It was true, he did not yet understand the reasons that had taken her to reject him so many times, and yes, he still refused to believe about those sudden lights of some sort she claimed to see, but one thing he recalled...
Ginny looked heartbreakingly sincere...
She had finally opened up her feelings to him and he had utterly and most undoubtedly failed to listen.
A chill ran up his spine as a thought hit him.
"What if she left?" he wondered. Draco couldn't believe he hadn't thought about it before. "I mean, sure, it all points towards the fact that she was abducted, but what if she didn't resist?"
After all, Draco hadn't heard any screams, complains or anything that would suggest otherwise. And being offered a life of luxury and might next to the most powerful wizard alive didn't seem such a bad offer for a former servant, did it?
And Draco... He was just an outlaw, or was he? Sure this particular fugitive wouldn't be as easy to catch; he had the money and the power to keep her safe from any harm, but he still didn't know what would happen if the Wizarding World found out he was protecting a servant, and a rebel one for that matter.
Frankly, he couldn't care less. He had made a drastic turn in his life and didn't regret any of it, if it had brought her to him. But what about Ginny? Did she mind to live the kind of life Draco had to offer her?
Furthermore, there was still the fact that Ginny was angry...
: Flashback :
"No I won't!" she scowled, standing firm and wiping her cheeks. "I'm going to sleep," she uttered, heading towards the inside of the cave, after throwing Draco's coat to his feet.
: End of Flashback :
"VERY angry," he added, failing to understand why it felt as if each word that left his mouth, also took with it a piece of his stomach.
What in the name of Merlin was he doing there, searching for her, if the most likely reconstruction of facts revealed that she had probably left at her own will?
His stomach was painfully being torn apart now without even having the need to speak.
"No!" he uttered, untying the knot at the back of his throat.
He refused to believe that version of the story and if he had to, then he'd have to hear it from her own lips, and no one else's.
Those moist, full and most inviting lips...
How he missed her! Even if he didn't even realise up to what extent... He missed every single aspect of her; from her witty comebacks, to that delicious laugh, and her way of making it all seem alright, only by being there, like nobody else ever was.
But Draco wasn't even close to acknowledge these feelings yet... It was all a huge bundle in his head, and a bundle of emotions that still felt foreign for him, for that matter.
The resistance from the horse caused him to snap back.
"What now?" he uttered, as he realised that the horse's front hooves were standing still at the edge of a two-feet stream. "C'mon!" he urged, pulling him on to the other side.
The horse neighed in disapproval and stood still as a rock.
"Go on, animal, it's not even twenty inches deep," he added, urging the horse to move.
But he didn't.
"Don't expect me to believe that an animal your size is afraid of water," he commented cunningly.
The beast bit the reigns and pulled them off his grip, after which he gave Draco a full-size view of his back flanks.
"Oh, this is just... fantastic! Isn't it?" he exclaimed out loud, glad that both his hands were now free to press his face between them, as if, by doing so, he could push his thoughts away.
He gave one deep breath as if taking in his whole integrity, previously lost due to the lack of confidence and decided it was pointless to wander senselessly over questions that would remain unanswered until he arrived to Schattenburg.
"So you've got a temper, huh beast?" was his solemn reply. "You know, such a display of anger cannot remain un-adjudicated to a name, so I guess I'll give you one, if that's alright with you," he added, the horse turning his ears as a sign of indifferently paying attention.
Draco smirked.
"Let me see," he begun, "Silver? He was quite a celebrity in the muggle world back in the days, you know?" he questioned.
The horse neighed furiously.
"Just kidding," he said. "You're right, too cliché," he interpreted. "The same with Arthax, I guess".
The animal whinnied and hit the ground with his front hooves.
"Nah, thought so."
"Rain... Storm?" he shot, gaining yet other disapproving gesture. "What? Don't look at me; weather-like names are very popular among horses, aren't they?" he explained. "Or maybe they're just popular among their owners who think it's cute to name them after something all powerful and imposing," he added. "Maybe to outweigh deficiencies of some other sort, if you know what I mean..."
The horse swung his tail avidly, making Draco feel utterly ridiculous.
"Look at me," he sighed, "talking to a bleedin' horse," he added. "At this rate it would be no wonder if I ended up locked up at Saint Mungo's at the end of the day".
At this, the horse neighed excitedly.
"What?" Draco inquired, "No... You really do not expect me to believe that you fancy the name 'Mungo', do you?" The beast neighed in approval, as Draco raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "Alright, then Mungo it is," he stated, verifying with contentment that the animal was finally moving. "Of one thing I can be sure of, though:" he added, "that name sure won't suggest the outweigh of anything," he said, causing Mungo to roll his eyes in disagreement.
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When Ginny first walked through those never ending staircases, she felt like she was teemed with overwhelming explanations to give; no matter what, she knew it was all a mistake and no one could've possibly convince her otherwise. Now, as the steady noise that her glass slippers made against the marble steps kept puncturing her ears, the red-head was desperately searching for an answer.
She had hoped to get things straight, yet far from feeling relieved, her mind felt as blurred as she remembered ever feeling it.
Her arguments were now feeble, scrawny, and her whole world seemed torn apart.
"See, your highness?" Ellie's words dissipated her thoughts, bringing her back to reality. "See it wasn't that terrible?"
Ginny looked into those mirthful amber eyes and thought that she didn't have the heart to tell her it hadn't go all that good.
She decided to go for a wry smile, coming out as fake as she felt the whole situation was.
But Ellie didn't seem to notice.
"Master Dylan is quite charming really, isn't he?" she commented. "And a gallant with the ladies too," she added with mischief.
"Hmmm..." Ginny replied absentmindedly.
"Oh, I'm sure you expected some sort of ogre with straw for hair and serpents for eyes, didn't you?" she continued, not expecting an answer. "Yes, but the young Master is quite breathtaking, really, can't help but feeling tipsy around him, can you?"
Actually, Ginny was kind of feeling strangely light-headed, but she somehow doubted it had anything to do with Dylan's charms.
"… and he has this way of saying things that just - Good heavens, child!" she cried when she finally focused her eyes on Ginny's face. "Are you feeling alright, your majesty? I find you somewhat pale," she added, verifying her temperature.
"Pale? PALE!" she thought. "How am I supposed to be when I feel like I have just been in the presence of a ghost!" she mentally added.
"I'm fine," the red-head uttered, not really meaning it. "I just -" her words were interrupted by the progressive closure of her oesophagus, "I -" she uttered, "can't -".
Her legs felt like butter all of a sudden and her vision begun to abandon her.
Between blurry colours, she saw the distinct image of Dylan, that apparated right on time to catch her before she hit the ground.
She furrowed her brow at the feeling of his strong arms supporting her languid form, one around her waist, while the other secured her head.
It was like he immediately understood what the problem was and thus laid her on the floor.
"Step aside!" he yelled, at which Mrs. Higgins retreated a couple of feet, providing she would still be close in case any help was required.
Ginny saw how his slender hands approached swiftly towards the centre of her cleavage and whimpered at the sudden surprise of him ripping the dress apart right from the centre, leaving her only with her undergarments on.
She gaped her eyes wide open and gasped, still unable to catch her breath, but desperately seeking for Ellie, or someone who would help her. Wasn't anyone going to do anything about it?
"Gods! I'm being raped!" she frantically thought, trying to resist, but she couldn't; the images were getting hazier by the second and her senses were dozing off too.
She desperately sought for his eyes, lurked under fine locks of ebony hair, and underlined by dark rings, on the hope to find some mercy, but he didn't glance back nor hesitated, not even once, and all she was left with was the view of his heavy, long eyelashes and perfectly angled nose. His semblance remained completely unreadable.
Then Dylan lifted her back, gently, but most rapidly, and with one finger only, he ripped the laces of her corset apart, which he immediately threw away, relieving her from the suffocating undergarment.
Just when the images were fading away, seemingly for good, the red-head felt an indescribably mitigating feeling and instantly took the deepest breath ever and opened her eyes wide to become aware of the most awkward and utmost embarrassing situation.
There she lied half unconscious over the stone floor, next to the object of her fears and all that separated his almost certainly feisty eyes from her chaste body was a white, silky under gown, trimmed with fine, silver lace designs, which's thinness and texture was sure not to leave much for the imagination.
"Are you alright, Ginevra?" the familiar hoarse voice inquired. His hands were resting at her sides, to support his upper body, leaving only scarce inches between them and allowing the tips of a couple of long locks of hair to stub against her frightened face, sending wild jolts of electricity up her spine.
She hadn't had the courage to look him in the eyes just yet, but now that she forced herself to it, she was surprised to find no feisty eyes at all, but rather those of concern.
Was it possible?
Ginny finally begun to understand what had just taken place right there.
"You were fainting," he explained, "it was the corset," he added, looking in the direction he had thrown the blasted piece of cloth, gesturing her to look as well.
Her chest kept going up and down, matching her heavy panting, and noticeably emphasising her now free breasts, but his eyes were locked in hers, unable to be distracted by anything else.
Of course, this wasn't even close to change the fact that she was half naked in front of a complete stranger and that, therefore, her cheeks were now shaded in a furious pink that, as usual, told off her emotions. Unable to overcome the impact, she remained silent, her dumbfounded eyes still gazing into his arctic depths, afraid that they would roam over a different part of her body.
Given such state of stupor, it was no revelation that when Dylan lifted her in his arms back again, his left hand under her naked knees while her right enclosed her upper body, the red-head didn't dare resist either. Lacking the courage to reject him, Ginny forced herself to drape her arms around his strong neck. She knew she couldn't have possibly supported her body right then anyway.
Her mind seemed now like a whirlwind of turbid emotions; the coldness of his hands deeply contrasted with the warmth of his chest, evident due to the fine fabric, which gave Ginny a confusing sense of calmness.
"I'll take her from here, Mrs. Higgins," he darkly sentenced. "I will talk to you later," he added, and disappeared.
She must've dozed off then, because all she recalled was being back at her dormitory, being placed by tender hands inside the mushy covers and a soothing voice.
"Now rest," she remembered the husky voice say, "Time is all we have," he added, almost in a whisper and then she fell into a deep slumber.
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She opened her eyes and wished it was dawn already… Shedreaded the darkness that the castle enclosed.
Ginny pulled the covers back, stood up and walked towards the mirror. She still couldn't recognise her reflection as hers. She absentmindedly followed the path of a silver thread that went from the hem of her dress to her cleavage, and when she reached this last fraction, her heart begun to throb furiously at the sight of an all-too-familiar man standing right behind her.
What first caught her attention where two sparkling icy eyes, gazing straight into hers. Then his skilful hands, resting over her naked shoulders and smoothly sliding the thin laces that supported her nightgown, down the angle of her shoulders.
All the while, she didn't dare move; she was completely paralysed in astonishment.
She heard the heavy, silky material fall to her feet and contemplated her naked form in the mirror, covered only by a pair of white lace knickers.
Her respiration rose as she became aware of the temperature drop and haze escaped her mouth, while every hair of her body pricked up with anticipation, as if her body knew what was coming up next.
She wanted to tell him to stop, to be gone, but her mouth simply couldn't form the words and her eyes kept gazing mystified into his blue depths.
His right hand removed her fiery mane of hair and his pale, cold lips delivered a soft kiss on her right shoulder that seemed to mark the epicentre of a wave of ecstasy spread all over her vigilant, sensitive skin.
Her heart almost skipped a beat when his hands began moving dangerously down her back, nudging her from behind, then tracing her form and finally venturing towards the front, over the softness of her stomach, to rise until they reached the tender skin of her breasts.
Ginny gasped at the touch of his adept hands on her stiffened and most sensitive nipples, that hadn't felt the direct contact of another hand ever. He touched her as if he knew her, pressing and retreating just when it felt right and tracing paths that enticed her senses all the way to paradise. The intoxicating exploration caused her to moan with sheer pleasure and raw desire, and though her mind seemed to scream in despair, her body kept begging for more.
At this, he smirked, pleased at her response, and decided to leave the placid massage for later.
Her body reacted with disappointment when his hands abandoned the exquisite spurring and soon recovered the arousal when it felt one of them travelling back to her left breast while the other ventured down her waist, round her hips and slowly but steadily into her knickers.
As she stared at their reflection on the mirror, mesmerised, Ginny couldn't believe she wasn't doing anything about this excruciating affliction. It was like her body wouldn't obey her instructions; like the real Ginny was trapped inside her body, screaming and violently shaking the bars of a golden cage of which she could not escape. And all that was left was the carnal satisfaction caused by his lusciously dexterous hands, a feeling so intangible yet so physical, it was driving her insane.
The red-head suppressed a whimper when she felt his fingers make contact with her moistened and most welcoming flesh, never before explored, and her reaction also brought with it a response in his warm body. She could feel him harden against her bottom and groan beside her ears, while her respiration turned into brief, heavy, gasps, followed by guilty moans.
Meanwhile, the air fused to join their vibe, turning incredibly dense and humid, intoxicating their lungs of peaches, powder and lust.
At the view of his smug, confident smirk, her eyes were forced to close, unable to handle the torture, while her knees, ever so weak and fragile, kept threatening to collapse any minute at his expert movements. Until she felt the hand that was busy caressing her breasts, travel towards her back and rest against her birthmark, that begun burning like fire, causing her to scream and rack her body in pain.
"Ahhhh!" she cried, opening her eyes to find herself resting against soft pillows, inside her canopy bed.
No eyes, no hands, no signs of the Prince at all actually.
All that remained was the frantic raising of her heartbeats and smothered respiration.
She then looked beneath the covers; she was wearing a nightgown.
"It was all a dream," she told herself, "But it seemed so real," she added, remembering the forbidden feelings Dylan had awoken on her.
Ginny sat up and was bothered by the friction of her night gown against her left shoulder, with which she realised that her birthmark was still sore.
The red-head furrowed her brow.
"What was that all about?" She wondered, stroking the delicate tissue of her shoulder.
Looking outside the window, she realised it was dusk already and wondered just what time it was. Soon, Ellie informed her that it had been two days since the incident and she helped her prepare for dinner. She could hardly explain herself how she had been able to sleep for so long but, then again, there really wasn't much she could actually explain about the things going on in her life lately.
Her undergarments had been evidently loosened up and she found no trouble breathing, if she just forgot for a moment who she was dining with, what he had done to her and how he had seen her what seemed just hours ago. Not to mention that most disturbing dream...
She desperately tried to distract herself on the dining hall itself; it was a huge room, with marble designs all over the floor and roman columns supporting the magnificent dome, which had exquisite paintings, representing some of the most important battles of the magic world.
The table was a fifty feet board of wood, apparently cut from one single tree, which had been carved with fine gothic designs, especially on the legs. Ginny couldn't help but notice that the wood had all kinds of precious stones embedded into it every now and then and wondered just how wealthy the man sitting in front of her really was.
"I trust you slept well, my lady," he uttered, welcoming her presence with a confident smirk.
Ginny looked him in the eyes and swore she saw in them a mischievous glow, accentuated by the reflection of the fire coming from the fireplace in his crystal pits.
She limited to grin weakly, hoping not to offend him, but still unable to address him fluently.
He didn't seem to bother.
Soon enough, delicious food covered the smooth surface, were her eyes were fixed. There was duck, stuffed turkey, three types of pasta, two kinds of soups and other equally delectable plates she couldn't quite identify.
"You must be," he paused, switching his sight from the table to her eyes, "famished," he commented huskily, upon checking her sparkling brown eyes, roaming over the food.
It was true, she was absolutely starved. That's what months of eating nothing but scraps of food will do to you, but she didn't answer and merely watched as he waved his right hand, causing the bottle of red whine to pour its content into her glass first, then into his. Then he did the same to serve some food into his plate, but soon realised that the red-head wasn't joining him.
"What?" he inquired, lifting his glass, moving its content, then smelling and sipping it. "What is it, milady?" he insisted.
"I'm not that hungry," she finally lied. Of course she was ravenous! But what if that food was poisoned or, at least, charmed? Maybe eating some of that food would cause her to doze off and Merlin knows what things could happen to her then. If she had learned one thing throughout the years was to question absolutely everything.
"Really?" he questioned, unimpressed. "You honestly expect me to believe that?" he added. "You've been eating scrubs for the past years and you're telling me this feast doesn't even," he paused, "tempt you?" He inquired, looking her straight into her eyes with that devious, smoky gaze that had caused her to yield to him once upon a dream.
A brief silence followed, while she desperately searched for an alternate point where to fix her gaze.
"It looks delicious," she finally admitted, trying to focus her eyes anywhere but on his, while she cursed her senses that were craving for some of that incredibly looking and marvellously smelling food.
"And believe me, it is," Dylan agreed, as he took a cherry from its stem and made it disappear inside his mouth.
"It's just that -" she hurried to reply.
"You don't trust me, do you?" Dylan guessed, anticipating her words.
Why did she keep getting this feeling like he knew about her recent dream?
"It's not that," she lied, "It's..." she couldn't find the words to excuse herself; she didn't want to get him angry.
"That," he sentenced, lifting his right brow. "You have never tasted anything so sinfully perfect, I assure you," he added, sneering.
The feeling kept haunting her still. Was it possible that his words indeed were flooded with a double meaning? Or was it just coincidence that he was using the words "famish", "temptation" and "sin" at that precise time?
"Come on, Ginevra," he urged, "there's nothing to be afraid of, otherwise I wouldn't dare eat this food myself either".
He had a point.
Shyly, Ginny stretched her arm towards the lasagna that had been tempting her for quite a while, and before she reached the spoons, a piece of lasagna was already served on her silver plate.
"Allow me," he said, when fast steps coming from the main entrance announced someone's arrival.
Soon enough, there was a skinny, young man standing before them.
Ginny guessed by Dylan's semblance that he must've been expecting him.
"Your majesty," he begun, "the last invitations were sent this afternoon".
"Good," he replied, satisfied, "I'll be joining you early Friday morning to make sure it is all properly set," he added.
"Certainly, your highness; we'll take care of every detail so when the time comes, we'll be ready," the man replied.
"I do not doubt it," Dylan reassured.
"Is there anything else I can do for your highness?"
"No, no, you've done enough, you're dismissed now," he added, and motioned him to leave.
"Thank you, Master Gray," he answered, and left as quickly as he had arrived.
Ginny was a little disoriented about the conversation, had she missed anything?
"Ready for what?" she dared question, having the immanent fear that the time of the wedding was getting as close as that same Friday!
"Why, for the ball, of course" he answered, naturally.
"Ball?" In retrospective, she was sure she must've grimaced at these words.
"To announce our engagement and make your presence known to the magic Kingdom," he briefly explained.
This didn't seem to startle her in the least. Was it that nothing could surprise her anymore? Instead, a thought instantly rushed through her mind.
"Who's invited?" she hurried to ask.
"Everyone worth inviting, I'm sure," he replied, pausing to take a sip of his wine. "You know, members of this so-called wizard aristocracy around the globe".
"Death eaters even?" Her heart began to throb faster with anticipation.
"Milady," he replied, wiping his mouth with the napkin. "If I dared exclude them there would probably be no guests at all, would there?" he added, with a smirk.
"I guess so..." she uttered, and found herself wondering whether a certain someone was going to be invited as well.
"It's alright, Ginevra," he drawled, in his throaty voice, "I won't ever let anyone harm you again," he added, resting his left hand over hers, which was clenched tightly.
"Master," another voice was heard.
Ginny thanked whoever was that interrupted that moment, depriving her from his touch.
Dylan, instead, looked less pleased.
"There is a matter that requires of you most urgently," the subordinate plainly explained.
"Oh, not now, Gunther, can't it wait?" Dylan suggested, impatiently.
The servant leaned over and whispered some words into his ear, which Ginny couldn't distinguish at all, though she tried. But she could tell from his smirk that it must have been something of great interest for the Prince.
"Excellent," he drawled, "I'll meet you at the dungeons at once," he added, gesturing him to be gone, after which the servant vowed and left were he had come from.
"What is it?" she dared ask, dropping her fork.
"Oh, milady, I promise that if I had any other choice other than abandoning you for dessert, I'd take it, but this," he paused reflexively, focusing his eyes in the fire that seemed to light them up, "this is something I've been waiting for rather impatiently lately," he added with a devilish grin, before standing up. "Sweet dreams," he added with mischief and, after a slight bow, he disappeared.
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AUTHOR'S NOTES:
At some point I felt like I was never going to end that chapter, you know? It has never taken me so long to update, EVER. But my return, after all this time, should be proof enough for you that I will NEVER quit on this story, alright? It just might take longer to update, that's all, but it will be finished eventually.
Ah, the dreams... (rolls eyes)... Isn't it fun how you can always include fuzzy things in them? By the way, those must've been my most daring lines in the whole story, ey? I dunno why, but I have the hunch that many of you will be glad ;)
And now, of course, I hope that you guys will be nice and tell me what you thought about it, alright? It has been really stressing to write and if I don't get a little support, I just might break into tears and decide never to write anything again (gives you the goo goo eyes) :)
Following this late fashion of mine, and as a way to at least try to make it up to you guys for all the delay... I wrote individual replies for EVERY SINGLE reviewer from last chapter: THANK YOU SO MUCH YOU PEOPLE OUT THERE, YOU ARE THE BEST!! Infinite thanks to all my reviewers!! **chrestomanci 04** ** Pink Inspiration** **faeriedust** **Eri** **Mrs Felton** **xlostx0652** **george-rox-my-sox** **ladyofslytherin** **G Dficlover** **Tears ofthe Phoenix** **fence4life214** **Olivia Weasley** **Peanut** **~Lady_of_the_Horses~** **emvee** **Hazel Haired** **Orella** **bluerain13** **Evil Evor** **coolbabe459** **hunnee** **rembrandt** **katelyn** **nisi** **Goldmund** **chrestomanci 04** **lazyk87** **mousygirl512** **Fiery beast** **mememe** **Crunch** **Dylan fan** **Ginamalfoy** **angyme** **Lara** and the always present **Anonymous**
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