AN added a few hours after posting: Someone left a guest review for this chapter saying this story isn't worth updating, and all I can say is, I honestly don't give a fuck whether they think I should continue; I love this story too much to stop writing. I'm now on Chapter 14. So joke's on them. Also, deleted their review bc their opinion is theirs and doesn't matter to me. *insert dancing girl emoji*

Note: Someone convinced me that Harrie is a better nickname for Harriet than Harry, so I'm making the change. I haven't finished doing so for all the chapters, so if you're a new reader (or an old one re-reading) don't find it odd if it switches back to Harry in some chapters.

So far:

Harriet Potter plans to conduct secret classes, and Draco Malfoy wants in. Which means he needs to follow her and her side-kicks to Hogsmeade to learn more about what their plans are. But independent of that, Draco's put into motion his 3-step emotional manipulation program. Step 1: Let her know that the old coot Dumbledore, her idol and mentor, hadn't always looked out for her. Step 2: Offer a lending ear when she gets upset because of step 1. Step 3: Make her feel bad for not spending enough time with him while he has been a pillar of support for her. Maybe that way, she'll be asking him to join her classes all on her own.

NOTEWORTHY BOREDOM

CHAPTER 11

TEDIOUS SLEUTHING

Though Draco had mastered the art of applying a Disillusionment charm, he didn't want to take a risk – it was absolutely crucial that he remain unseen and unheard through the rest of the day. And that was why he had marshalled his father into sending him their invisibility cloak and silencing gauntlet.

He had already spread the news amongst fellow Slytherins that he was down with a variant of the flu, and had cast strong wards around his room so that nosy witches such as Pansy (or sometimes Astoria) wouldn't try to come in and 'comfort' him, only to be met with his absent self.

Right now, he was standing a little behind Filch, waiting for Harriet to come out with her horrible side-kicks. His plan was to follow them, and get first-hand information on these classes that Harriet was going to conduct, under the prodding of the Mud–Muggleborn.

A particularly strong gust of wind blew by, and Draco had to clutch the cloak even more tightly around himself; he wondered if he should cast a Disillusionment charm on himself as a further precautionary method – it was a bad day to be wearing a cloak. It was so bloody windy.

Just as Draco took out his wand, holding the cloak around his body and head with his right hand, Harriet Potter walked out with those two awful Gryffindors. She was sporting a filthy scowl, and glared at Filch when the older man stepped closer to her and sniffed at her.

Using his already drawn wand, Draco whispered a spell to bind the caretaker's bootlaces together.

"If I get a whiff of Dungbombs..." threatened the caretaker, before nodding his head curtly. Harriet and her friends hurried away, with the Muggleborn turning around to throw a suspicious glance at the caretaker.

A bit miffed that he wouldn't get to witness the pervert fall down, Draco hurried after the three, their hair colours making a varying palette of colours. The Weasel had hair longer than most wizards at Hogwarts, and Draco wrinkled his nose at it.

Pureblood culture dictated that only married men grow their hair, but here was a member of The Sacred Twenty-Eight, blatantly disregarding the rules. But then again, the Weasleys were Blood-Traitors, who had to be treated as such.

Draco smiled as he heard Harriet recounting the tale of how Filch had suspected her of trying to order Dungbombs before his expression soured, remembering the lecherous look the caretaker had thrown her.

Wait, what was this? Harriet had been trying to send a letter to Sirius? As in Sirius Black?

He knew that Black was out and was being protected by Dumbledore – Father had told him as much. But he hadn't known that Harriet was actually in touch with her godfather.

So that explained why she had been so upset the other day. Draco felt a pinprick of guilt, but squashed it down, as he hurried up to walk alongside the trio. When Harriet tripped over a loose stone, he forgot that he was supposed to be unseen and almost gave himself away by nearly catching her elbow. He stopped himself in time.

"He said he was tipped off you were ordering Dungbombs? But who tipped him off?" asked the Muggleborn.

"I dunno," said Harriet, glaring at the ground.

"Probably Malfoy," said the Weasel firmly, and Draco clenched his fists, trying to stop himself from hitting the other boy.

"Malfoy? He'd probably think it was a laugh," said Harriet, laughing nervously, and the Muggleborn whipped her head to eye his ally curiously.

"Malfoy, eh?" she asked sceptically. "Maybe..." she trailed off.

The conversation degenerated after that into the Muggleborn explaining why she felt the Hog's Head was a better place to meet. Draco turned his nose up when he heard that. Sure, students wouldn't be there to overhear anything, but was she forgetting the fact that Umbridge had grown adults out to spy on all the students?

"Harrie?" asked the Weasel, as Harriet paused at the entrance to the dingy pub, and weirdly enough, sniffed.

"What?" she asked shortly.

"What are you doing?" asked the Muggleborn, who'd now come out of the pub. She had her arms on her waist, and looked like a reprimanding hen.

"Do any of you smell oranges?" she asked, as the Weasel and the Muggleborn both looked at their best friend with questioning looks on their faces.

"I think you're imagining it, sweetie," said the Muggleborn kindly, before holding her hand out and taking Harriet by the arm. "The brain imagines things when it's nervous. Now let's go inside and get set up, okay?"

The Weasel followed the two witches inside and Draco darted in before the door could shut close completely, by placing his foot in between the door and the frame.

Draco was distracted, as he made his way between the tables. He wasn't paying any attention to the various shady people sitting at various tables.

His mind was still stuck on the fact that Harriet Potter was attuned enough to his citrus aftershave potion to recognise it.

OoOoO

Draco's mind was still reeling from all the things he'd heard.

Harriet Potter had killed a Basilisk with a mere sword. Harriet Potter had saved the Philosopher's Stone (which Sidebottom had wrongly called the Philological Stone – how shameful) from The Dark Lord. Harriet Potter could cast a corporeal Patronus, but he knew that already, from his past failed prank.

And as Ernie Macmillan had pointed out, Harriet Potter had won the Triwizard Tournament. But Draco didn't like the way his ally had blushed when Macmillan said that, and he sure as hell didn't like all those appreciative glances Macmillan had been throwing his ally throughout the meeting.

So Draco had taken childish pleasure in casting a shrinking hex at a very private part of Macmillan's body, as the despicable wizard had made his way out of the pub. The Hufflepuff would have a nasty surprise later today, when he undressed, or maybe even earlier, when he went to use the loo.

His vindictive joy, however, had been cut short by Harriet blushing at Macmillan's parting wave.

And now, he was following the three Gryffindors as they turned into the High Street. The Muggleborn and the Weasel stopped outside Scrivenshaft's, arguing about the Weaselette.

"What do you mean she's dating Michael Corner? I don't like that fellow!" the Weasel said, his ears the colour of raw beef.

"At least she's over her crush on Blaise Zabini," the Muggleborn muttered, which really caught Draco's attention.

The Weaselette had liked his friend, Blaise? Whoa!

"Who on earth is Zibani?" asked the Weasel, his obviously small brain not capable of even getting a name right.

"Zabini – he's the Slytherin that Malfoy sits with most of the time. I'm sure Harrie is well aware of that," the witch said slyly, looking at Harriet.

"What?" spluttered his ally predictably, her mouth falling open. It was obvious that she'd been preoccupied so far. But this was worrisome in a different way. The Muggleborn clearly suspected that he and Harriet were no longer 'enemies'.

"Don't tell me you fancied Zambini as well!" exclaimed the Weasel, a look of horror on his face.

"Of course not!" shrieked his ally, her look of horror mirroring the Weasel's, as the Muggleborn chuckled.

"What?" she asked, turning on her female friend.

"Don't think I missed the looks between you and Ernie," said the witch in a sing song voice, as Harriet shoved her in the arm.

"Bugger off, Mione."

OoOoO

Harriet was at Tomes and Scrolls, searching for a decent book on nonverbal spells. Hermione and Ron were still at Scrivenshaft's, and Mione had promised to come over after buying a decent quill.

The meeting had gone pretty well, and it had helped that most of them, except for Smith, had been willing to listen to her. Even Lavender had attended the meeting, and had actually civilly passed her a bottle of Butterbeer. Thankfully, Seamus hadn't attended the meeting, and Harriet wouldn't have had it any other way.

And it hadn't helped that every time Macmillan had thrown her a smile, her stomach had somersaulted. No one had ever paid her attention like that before, and it had felt so strange, but so nice.

Was this how Hermione had felt last year about Viktor?

Harriet's cheeks were still smarting from how much she'd blushed when the boy's eyes had trailed down her body when she'd stood up to speak. And she couldn't get out of her mind that crooked smile he'd thrown her way as he'd left the pub.

As she reached up to get a book that looked promising, she caught the smell of oranges once again. This was proof that she hadn't been imagining the smell!

For the past few weeks, she'd been smelling it, but she'd figured that it was because of the experimental perfume that Fred and George had given her – they'd said that the perfume would attract the best possible wizard for her, and Harriet had sceptically agreed to try it out.

She'd been forced to stop wearing it on Wednesday, after she'd managed to spill the entire contents of the bottle on herself on the previous day.

But now, there was a whiff of it again, and she wondered if this was some after-effect kind of thing.

Was it possible that Ernie was the perfect wizard for her at this point of time? Fred and George were geniuses, and she'd never doubted that their perfume wouldn't work to some extent. Was that why Ernie had sort-of-maybe flirted with her?

Merlin, did Ernie now fancy her?

Did she fancy him back?

What was a girl supposed to do if she thought she fancied a guy?

When the sweet smell of oranges and lemon, combined with the pleasant smell of books got too much to bear, she walked out of the store, without purchasing the book.

OoOoO

Sunday had been a whirl of happiness for Harriet. Her confidence had been greatly boosted by yesterday's meeting – all those people looking up to her and listening to her – she'd never thrummed with this much energy before.

She had spent the morning catching up on homework with Ron, under the careful supervision of Hermione, and the afternoon and evening had been spent training for the upcoming Quidditch match. Harrie had caught the snitch in record time each time it was released, and Angelina had relegated her to the temporary position of a Chaser, so that Ron could get more practice.

And now, as she stood under the warm spray in the girls' Quidditch shower room, she couldn't help but smile broadly. She hummed the one ABBA song she knew, thanks to Hermione, off key, as she shampooed her hair with the special vanilla concoction she usually owl-ordered from Vertic Alley.

"Harriet? Want us to wait for you?" came Katie's voice from the other side of the stall's door, and Harrie yelled over the sound of the cascading water.

"No thanks, Katie, I'll be taking some more time," she replied, not in any hurry to get back to the castle. Sure, she wanted a good dinner, but that wasn't really a problem when one knew where the kitchens were, right?

"And don't get into any more detentions, Angelina will slit your throat," warned Alicia. Harrie made a face at the shiny tiles inside the bathroom. Ever since she started wearing the sapphire earrings, she hadn't gotten into any more trouble.

It was then that she realised that she hadn't gotten Draco a decent gift yet.

"Harrie?" came Katie's and Alicia's voices together, so she replied that what they'd said had been heard, understood and acknowledged by her.

Wrapping herself in the thick turkey towel, she walked to her locker carefully, so as to not slip on the tiles, before opening the door to pull out some clothes. As she banged the wooden door shut, she noticed that the nail polish on her left thumb nail was peeling.

Maybe it was time to change colours?

After pondering for a few minutes, she settled on the colour purple. If only there were a spell for proper application just the way there was a spell for removing the paint... Harry sighed wistfully, before grimacing at how much she internally sounded like that cow Lavender.

"Potter miss? Potter miss?"

Harriet shrieked and nearly dropped her towel, as she spun around to face a Louisie who was covering her eyes with her hands.

"Merlin, Louisie, you gave me a heart-attack," she gasped out, breathing heavily as she leaned against her locker.

"Louisie apologises, but Louisie no want to see Master Malfoy's friend without clothes," explained the elf, eyes still tightly shut, despite having moved her hands from her face.

"Hold on a second, then," said Harriet, as she hastily pulled on her clothes – her faded Triwizard Tournament t-shirt and a pair of jeans.

"You can look now," she told the elf, as she sat herself down on the benches in the Gryffindor girls' locker-room, shaking out her hair so as to air-dry it for a while before casting a low-level drying spell on it.

"Louisie has an urgent message from student master Malfoy," the elf said, handing out a crisply folded piece of parchment.

"Thanks Louisie," Harriet replied, taking the letter with her rather pruned fingers.

.

'Harriet,

Umbridge is upset over something you did. She's planning on changing a few school rules tomorrow. I just received a letter from my father saying so. What have you done?

Regards,

Your Slytherin Lover'

.

Harriet stared at the letter, a pit forming at the base of her stomach. That woman behind the black veil at the Hog's Head? Hermione said that it couldn't have been Umbridge, but what if the bitch had been using Polyjuice.

Oh, fuck.

"Louisie, could you–"

Harriet stopped short as she looked up from her letter; the house-elf had once again disappeared quietly after doing her job.

"Who are you talking to?" asked Angelina, coming inside the room, her broom in her hand.

"Nobody," lied Harriet, as her team captain looked at her intently.

"Okay, then. Good playing today, stock up on proteins tonight at dinner — grilled chicken and roasted veggies, got it? No carbo-loading today," said the girl authoritatively, before walking to her locker.

As Harriet made her way out a few minutes later, she realised that she wouldn't be able to eat much of anything, let alone proteins. She felt sick.

OoOoO

Draco eyed the official notice put up in the Slytherin common room warily, as most students around him chattered away in various degrees of shock.

To be honest, Draco was surprised as well. When he'd received his father's owl the previous night that Potter had set off Umbridge, he hadn't expected the toad to react quite this way.

"You know what this means, right?" drawled Blaise from Draco's left side. Draco had hinted at a change in school rules to Blaise last night, so the Italian boy wasn't too surprised.

"What?" asked Draco curtly, wondering how Harriet was reacting to this situation. Had his note prepared her enough? Was she going to retaliate? She hadn't replied to his note yet... Wait, why did he care about that?

"Quidditch teams will have to be disbanded and re-formed as well. Look at how unhappy Montague looks," Blaise said, gesturing to the broad-shouldered Slytherin arrogantly with his chin.

"OH NO! HOW WILL THE ETIQUETTE CLUB FUNCTION NOW?" shrieked Pansy loudly to a disinterested Bulstrode, as the blonde viciously pushed away two first years who were chattering next to the notice board.

"Of all things to worry about," muttered Montague, as he walked towards Draco, pulling Higgs, one of the Chasers, as he neared the spot where Blaise and Draco were standing.

"I want the entire Quidditch team to meet in the Great Hall at lunch. I'll have a letter written and signed by all the team members for the official disbanding, and have another one ready to be signed for the re-formation. Be there, or be there," he said, looking intently at both Draco and Higgs, before stalking back down the corridor that led to the boys' dormitories.

Higgs glared at Draco for a second, before walking out the door. It looked like Slytherin's ex-Seeker was still not over the fact that Draco had used a little gold to displace him. Draco smirked a little, before being nudged by Blaise.

"Why do you think Umbridge is clamping down this severely?" asked Draco's sort-of-friend (Blaise was more a pest), but he just shrugged.

"It's hard to find rhyme or reason in the actions of a mad woman," he told his fellow Slytherin, before hitching his bag up his shoulder and making his way out, eager to see Potter at breakfast.

OoOoO

Harriet was annoyed beyond measure. She couldn't believe what Umbitch had done. Yes, Draco had warned her, but she hadn't realised how well-informed the Hogwarts 'High Inquisitor' was. Harriet wished the woman would fall off the Astronomy Towers and be torn to shreds by a Hungarian Horntail.

Today, she was sitting next to Ron during History of Magic, not because she was annoyed with Draco or anything of that sort, but because she needed her best friend to sit and vent with. Surprisingly, Hermione had chosen to sit with them, so the three of them were sharing a bench made for two, with Harriet squished in the middle.

"Stop doodling," reprimanded Hermione, as Harrie drew a shapeless flower. Godric, how she missed chatting with Draco, without having Hermione annoying her.

A few minutes later, just as Harrie was about to fall asleep, she was nudged sharply in the ribs by her friend.

"Giant wars has come in the OWL paper for the past seven years. Pay attention," hissed the Muggleborn, and Harrie couldn't help but feel envious of the redhead to her left who was fast asleep.

Harriet was drawing patterns on her own hand with her ball pen, when Hermione nudged her this time.

"What the fuck, Hermione?" she asked, glaring at the brunette, who emotionlessly pointed to the window.

"Oooh, I've always found that owl beautiful," murmured Lavender with a sigh to Parvati, just as Harriet made out Hedwig sitting on the ledge outside at an awkward angle. But before she could get up, Malfoy had sprung up to the window and opened the latch.

Hedwig, the traitor, let herself be taken gently into Malfoy's hands.

The blond git smirked at Harrie once, before his features took on a confused expression.

"I think your owl's hurt, Potter."

Harriet scrambled out of her seat past Hermione, as though Voldemort had sent a Bludger her way, and hurried to where Malfoy stood. She noticed the entire class staring at both her and Malfoy, but she paid them no attention. She tried not to, at least.

"Give me my owl," she commanded quietly, as Binns droned on in the background.

"Why should I, Potthead?" he asked with a sneer on his face, though his actions contradicted his expression – he was cradling Hedwig against his chest as though she were a new born baby, and that made something twist inside Harrie.

"Because she's hurt, and I believe that you're better than punishing an innocent animal for the problems you have with me," she said in what she hoped was a clear voice. Sure, this was an act for the benefit of the people around them, but she truly did believe in the words she was saying.

"You owe me. As long as you remember that..." Dr-Malfoy trailed off, sneering, before holding out Hedwig to her carefully. But Hedwig burrowed her head into Malfoy's chest, refusing to be moved, and Harriet felt a stab of betrayal.

"That's it, you're coming with me to Grubbly-Plank," she hissed, and before Draco could reply, she yelled out to Binns.

"Professor! Mason isn't feeling too well. I need to take him to the hospital wing," she yelled out, prompting Binns to look from his notes and blink at them.

"Not too well?"

"Not well at all, sir. He needs help to walk," she replied, gripping Malfoy's elbow tightly. She caught sight of Pansy glaring daggers in her direction from her place in the second row.

"All right then, Perkins," said the ghost hazily, before going back to referring his notes.

"Harrie, what are you doing with him?" Hermione bit out as Harriet passed by her, dragging Malfoy.

"Going to see Grubbly-Plank," she said curtly, before hurrying out of the class.

OoOoO

Draco was annoyed beyond measure. Harriet had nearly exposed the fact that they were on slightly friendlier terms to their housemates. He understood that she was worried about her owl, but she'd nearly blown their cover.

At least, she'd remembered to call him Malfoy.

"People are suspicious, you know?" he told her in a cold voice.

"I was worried about Hedwig, give me a break!" she protested, as she walked right next to him with one hand on her owl's head, her eyebrows furrowed, while she bit her lips anxiously.

And just like that, he felt his annoyance dissipate. There was no need to be hard on her right now. They'd both have to do some damage control, but that was it.

"It's all right," he said, and she nodded her head. Draco had the feeling her mind was on something else at the moment.

They continued walking in relative silence, till she said, "I don't think Grubbly-Plank has class right now," as they passed by a large window facing that half-breed's hut.

"Staff room then?" he suggested, as he gently adjusted the owl's position in his arms.

Five minutes later, they were outside the staff room door, with Harriet arguing with the stone gargoyles that flanked the door.

"Harriet?"

"What?" she asked him, irritation clearly written on her face, her nose flaring ever so slightly.

"You forget I'm a prefect," he told her, before puffing out his chest to the gargoyles. "I'm the Slytherin Fifth Year prefect, and I wish to enter the staff room," he told them as politely as possible.

"So arrogant for a Fifth Year," said the gargoyle on the left, and he heard Harriet snigger silently through her nose, as the door swung open.

"Potter, Malfoy! What are you doing here?" came the shocked voice of his Transfiguration professor, as they entered the staff room together. "Don't tell me you're in detention again, Ms Potter!"

"Potter's got her owl hurt," Draco replied, trying to be snide about it.

Harriet didn't disappoint him, and rose to his bait.

"I didn't get Hedwig hurt, Professor!"

"A hurt owl, you say, Mr Malfoy?" asked Grubbly-Plank who was sitting next to McGonagall, smoking a pipe.

"I don't know what's wrong, I think her wing is broken. She's not able to fly, and her wing is all funny – look," said Harriet, her concern apparent in the way her voice broke. If he hadn't been holding her rather heavy owl, he would have taken hold of her hand and squeezed it. In a way, Draco was glad that Hedwig had refused to go to Harriet – the owl was stopping him from doing decidedly foolish things.

Grubbly-Plank stood up and walked towards them, tossing the newspaper she had been reading onto her armchair. She fixed a monocle onto her nose, and a moment later was examining the owl.

"Hmm," she said, her pipe waggling as she spoke, "Looks like something's attacked her. Couldn't have been the Thestrals – Hagrid's got the Hogwarts ones well trained, but looks like she's definitely been attacked."

Draco slowly transferred the owl, Hedwig, into the teacher's hands, as the owl made a hurt whine of pain. And that had Harriet moving closer to him and patting the owl's head gently, crooning words of encouragement.

Draco caught sight of McGonagall glaring at him sharply, and shifted his position. Though people claimed that McGonagall was impartial unlike Uncle Severus, Draco knew that her impartiality did not extend to Slytherins. Draco always got an 'E' for essays, even though Terry Boot, the Ravenclaw he shared Transfiguration with, got an 'O' for an essay far inferior to his.

"Do you know how far this owl has travelled, Potter?"

"Er," said Harriet, looking between him and the Deputy Headmistress. "Uh, eh, I..." she said, before pausing and sucking in a huge breath. "I sent her to London. For owl-ordering a make-up kit, yes, that's it! I ordered a make-up kit from Diagon," she said, speaking a little too fast, making it obvious that she was lying – possibly because he was in the room.

"I can fix her up if you leave her with me, Potter. But don't let her fly long distances anytime soon, so that she can heal properly," said Grubbly-Plank, bringing Draco out of his thoughts.

The owl was still holding a piece of rolled up parchment tightly, and under the pretext of petting the owl, Draco quietly prised the parchment out of its talons, as Harriet stammered over her thanks to the Care of Magical Creatures teacher. Draco slipped the parchment into his pocket.

"No problem," said the other witch gruffly.

Harriet and Draco were about to exit the room, when McGonagall spoke up.

"I'll have an eye on you, Malfoy," said the witch, and Draco felt a flare of resentment towards her. Despite helping a fellow student out, this was the treatment he got from her.

He sneered at her, before walking out.

OoOoO

"Thanks, Draco," she said softly, as they turned onto the next corridor.

"You're welcome, Harriet," he said, his silver eyes shining dangerously, and before she could comprehend what she was doing, she was hugging him.

Less than a moment later, she felt his arms circle her waist, and she breathed in his scent – he smelled of soap and nothing else, surprisingly, and Harriet liked it.

The bell rung behind them, and she tried not to groan, as Draco unwrapped his arms and moved away from her. It was probably for the best – if any student had seen her hugging him, they would have been the topic of gossip for weeks to come, for sure.

But she still had that fuzzy feeling in her stomach, and Harriet decided that she definitely liked having that feeling.

"By the way," Draco said, bringing her out of her reverie. "I think your boyfriend wants to meet you."

He held up a slip of parchment, and Harriet recognised the handwriting on it.

'Today, same time, same place.'

All those previous feelings of fuzziness vanished, as a pool of dread formed in her stomach instead.

She'd fucked up big time.

And she didn't know how she was getting out of it.

a very long AN:

Thank you for all your support. You have no idea how much it means to me.

The past year's had a lot of changes. For about every 8 bad days, I get 1.5 good days. Every month I imagine that I'll do better, and every month, I've been more disappointed with the state of my mental health. You guys are the best, because all your kind words about staying strong kept me going on the worst of my bad days. Sometimes, even though it's been more than a year since I last updated, I'd get a fresh review from one of you (newer?) readers (especially for Playing Pretend), wishing me well/luck for dealing with my demons. It would inevitably be a bad day, because that's when I bother to check my inbox. And then I'll see these words of encouragement, and feel better about the fact that I'm not dead yet.

If you're here after all this while, still reading this story, thank you. I'm not really sure how many of you are left there, so please do review! As always, good vibes and constructive criticism are always welcome. :)

And to that reviewer who accused me of being homophobic, and then privately messaged me and said that I can't be bisexual because bisexuality is a lie — because apparently you're either gay with a back up option or a homophobe pretending to also like people of your own gender so you don't get called out (I'm apparently the latter?) — fuck you. You're straight up crazy. Thanks for the lolz though.

Seriously though, if you see anyone indulging in bi-erasure, please call them out on it. (Side note: She threatened to tell everyone she knows on FFN that I'm a homophobe. If she does that, please know she's a liar, and let me know as well.)

Also, please review!

This is a very long AN, so imma stop now.

*gr8rockstarrox has left the chat*

Extra AN, 2020:

This chapter (with the above AN) was ready to be posted in Dec 2019. I then started replying to reviews and then forgot to post the chapter. Review replies are not complete yet. I've apparently completed up to Giulia's review. Bear with me! (Can't wait to catch up with you, babyvfan!)

In the mean time, thanks to all of you beautiful reviewers. :)

Guest review replies will be up on this fic's Tumblr someday. :/ (noteworthyboredom is the handle.) Also, I've started a Tumblr blog called gr8rockstarrox for writing and mental health updates. If you're interested in those, follow me there.

DM me if you need someone to talk to; these are weird times and we need to help other! I hope everyone is staying safe and healthy. *sending positive vibes through your device screen*

The two ANs combined together are way too long; pretty sure 90% won't be reading this completely. And that's cool, it's your prerogative.

If you've read through all this, you really are a patient person; ty! :)

P.S., 2020:

1. I've started a new femHarry story called Chasing Waterfalls which is a Twilight crossover. I'd be much obliged if you checked that out and let me know what you think of it — it's the first serious new project I've posted in two years, and I feel a little out of touch.

Review this chapter and review that one if you like it as well — I love hearing what you think about the story, both the good and the bad. :)

2. The Tumblr links go: www . handle-name . tumblr. com without any spaces.