Title: Never Been Kissed: A Ghost's Tale
Author: Tiny Q
E-Mail: [email protected]
A/N: Wow. This took a long time, didn't it?? Well, sorry about that. But I sort of lost interest for a while. Then I kicked myself and screamed a bit at myself and got to work on this chapter. ~grin~ But yes. I read the fifth book and I know that a lot of stuff is wrong now, but I am going to continue it as it is. Why? Because I am too lazy to go back and rewrite the bloody thing, that's why! Bah.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. And I definitely don't own that wonderful song by the Beatles. ~begins to sing~ Eleanor Rigby- Ok! I'll just let you read, shall I??
Never Been Kissed: A Ghost's Tale
Chapter 4
Never Piss Off a Poltergeist
~*~
"Ron, wake up," Ginny said as quietly as she could, though she wasn't exactly sure as to why. Her brother was the only one in the dorm, seeming to have declared that he needed more sleep than the rest of his dorm mates. So here she was, trying to wake him up.
She had pulled back the hangings just enough so that she could comfortably fit in between them without having to touch them. She was also floating far enough back from her brother so as not to startle him if he moved slightly and brushed against her. She knew it wasn't the best feeling for the living to touch a ghost. And it would be even worse to wake up to it.
"Ron," she said again, more loudly this time. The boy had yet to stir. "Come on, wake up you lazy bum. It's only ten o'clock."
He finally grumbled, and Ginny leant forward a touch more, eager to see if he was actually awake or just grumbling in his sleep, as he had a bad habit of doing. His large hands moved then and he pulled the covers closer to his chin, looking more like a child than a seventeen year old boy. It made Ginny feel very protective all of a sudden, though as to why was beyond her. She just had the feeling that she had to make him feel better. Perhaps it was just some maternal instinct, but it seemed too strong to be just that. She shuddered slightly at the possible implications but shoved them away to the back of her mind when Ron slowly opened his eyes.
"Ginny," he sighed upon seeing her. She smiled at him slightly. 'Well, he still remembers who I am,' she thought. "I've been having the most terrible dream that you died and became a ghost," he continued to grumble. "And you kept tormenting Malfoy. Not that that would be a bad thing, the tormenting part I mean. But the dead part was bad."
He then reached out and tried to hug her, but his arms passed right through her before she could get far enough back. Both of the Weasley children's eye widened in surprise. Then the older one shuddered.
"It's not a dream, is it?" he asked weakly, looking at his shaking hands.
Ginny was staring at her own body. It seemed to be swirling about, bringing itself back to its usual non-corporeal state.
"No," she said softly. "It isn't Ron. I am dead."
He stared at her, his face a mask of confusion and hurt. Ginny felt the feeling grow even stronger. She was causing her brother to feel this way. She was making him become so upset. So distraught.
"I thought it was just a dream," he whispered. "I hoped so much that it was just a dream." He stopped, retracting his arms back to himself. "Why did you have to die, Ginny?"
Ginny stared at him, floating above the ground as she suddenly wished now more than ever that she couldn't.
"I don't know," she said honestly. "I just don't know, Ron."
"Can't you even tell me who killed you?" he asked, looking up and staring at her once more. "How you died?"
"What does it matter?" she asked miserably, hunching her see-through shoulders slightly. "I'm dead now. There's no real point in knowing the stimulus."
"Yes there is!" Ron said his voice suddenly forceful. "It does matter. How will we ever make who ever it was pay? How will we ever be able to let you rest in piece?!"
"I don't know!" she said sharply back, anger and frustration suddenly rising in her chest. "I don't know how I died. I don't know who killed me. All I remember about it is that I woke up and saw Malfoy staring at me." She let out a frustrated sigh, feeling blue misty tears struggling to break free of her eyes. "I told you all that before. I told you all that but you don't listen."
Ron remained silent for a time, dropping his eyes from her. It wasn't until Ginny felt she was going to begin bawling that he spoke once more: "I'm sorry Gin," he said softly, looking up at her with teary eyes of his own. "I'm sorry that I wasn't there for you. That I let you go off and die all alone. I'm sorry that I couldn't save you."
Ginny stared at him, the tears suddenly breaking lose and wreaking havoc on her transparent face. "Don't be like this Ron," she said with a chocked voice. "You can't blame yourself for my own stupidity. There was nothing you could have done. Maybe you would be dead now too if you had been with me. Who knows?" She sniffed. "But there is no point breaking yourself up about it like you are. Please don't do it. Live your life Ron. Live it and don't mourn for the dead. Cause I'm still here. And it's kind of fun to go through walls and stuff. Don't look at me like that. It is. I could pull off stuff that Fred and George could only dream of doing, and that's saying something." Ron snorted slightly at this, smiling slightly at her through his broken up face.
"Don't waste your life, brother," Ginny sniffed once more. "Take it from the dead. Life is too precious to waste. Live it for me."
"I'm sorry Gin," Ron repeated, sniffling as well, yet seeming to try and pull himself together. "I'm still so sorry no matter what you say. But I will try to do what you say. You're right."
She smiled sadly at him, wanting so much to reach out and smooth down his hair. But she couldn't. It would just upset him further. And that was the last thing that she wanted. She didn't want to hurt her brother. To be the reason he became nothing in life.
"You know," Ron said suddenly, and Ginny turned to look at him questioningly. "I think I might know what you need to figure out to, well, you know, pass on." Ginny waited for him to continue, holding an unnecessary breath. Not that she needed to breathe, but it was more out of mortal habit. "Maybe you need to figure out who killed you. To find out how you died. Maybe it's your unfinished business."
Ginny stared at him. "You might be right," she said with surprise. "I don't remember that but I remember everything else. And all the other ghosts know how they died or who killed them. Maybe that's all I need to figure out." She paused. "But I bet I have to do it on my own though."
"But you won't find the answer without saying goodbye though, right?" her brother asked, giving a large sniff out of his large nose.
"Get a Kleenex," Ginny said in a mock nasty tone, suddenly feeling a lot better than she had all day. "And yes Ron, I won't leave without saying goodbye."
Ron smiled at her. "Good," he said firmly, seeming to be assured by this statement. "Then get out of here so I can sleep. I really am tired."
"Of course you are," Ginny chided, then turned away, closing the drawings as she went. "Goodnight, Ron," she called, drifting off towards the door.
"Goodnight," he called back.
Ginny then let herself drift down through the floor of the staircase, regardless of who she went through in the process. Once in the Common Room she winked at Hermione then drifted out, passing directly through the portrait of the Fat Lady. Who was none too pleased by her sudden cold chills.
She had her mind set now. She was going to return to her room, snuggle up on the couch as best she could, without passing through it of course, then read her book. Maybe it would have something in it to help her figure out how to remember how she died. She wasn't exactly sure if she wanted to know just yet. Perhaps Hermione had been right in saying that she died for a reason. But if that was the case, she surely wouldn't be able to figure it out until it was time for her to pass on.
She didn't bother opening her door; she just passed right through it. She looked around the now furnished room in search of her book. But it was no where to be found. She frowned. "Where could I have put it?" she asked herself, staring at her room, still vacant of her book. "I couldn't have-" she stopped, something suddenly occurring to her.
Without thinking, she dropped through the floor into the dorm room of the seventh year Slytherins. She saw that the bed on the far end contained one sleeping occupant, happily snoring away.
"What is with this school and people going to bed early?" she muttered darkly, frowning at the sleeping boy.
"Weasley?" she heard Malfoy suddenly gasp from behind her.
"But apparently the ones you want to be asleep are insomniacs," she said darkly, staring at the sleeping Slytherin with a blank look.
"How the hell did you get in here?" the boy behind her demanded, and Ginny couldn't help but sneer.
"Well as you gave mentioned before, Malfoy," she snarled, turning around slowly. "I'm dead. Thus I can pass through walls or rather floors in this case. Or did you forget already?"
She stared at him expectantly, only then realizing that was propped up on the bed, pillows pilled behind his head, with no shirt on. She frowned. 'Please tell me the git doesn't sleep in the nude,' she thought with slight desperation. 'Because that would just be sick.' It took her a moment later to realize that he was reading a book. Her book.
"What do you want?" he demanded, drawing her attention to his face and rather his shirtless top and book. His eyes were narrowed dangerously, and she couldn't help but grin at him.
"I want my book back," she said simply, waving a hand in it's general direction, causing mist to swirl about.
"Oh," he said simply, narrowing his right eye in the slightest way. "You mean the one you threw at me."
"I'd like to think of it as tossing with a touch of force," she offered with a shrug. More mist swirled around her.
"You're getting that shit all over my room," Malfoy sneered, looking pointedly at her misty entrails. "I wouldn't be surprised if it was toxic or something."
"Then perhaps I shouldn't' leave after all," Ginny said cheerfully, drifting towards him and gently floating down to rest on his bed. "Wouldn't want to deprive to you of the fumes." She fanned her hands towards him.
"Stop it," he hissed, using the book in his hands to fan it back at her. The wave of air hit her and Ginny felt part of herself moving away from her. It was the most peculiar sensation, but she didn't say anything. "If you want to poison anyone, get Zambini over there." He motioned with his head towards the only other occupant of the room.
"Now why would I want to do that?" Ginny asked innocently, looking over at the boy. She had never really paid him much attention when she was alive, but now she realized that he wasn't too bad looking. Not that it really mattered anymore. "It surely wouldn't be a favor to you so you could have less competition, would it?"
"I don't have competition," he sneered, glaring at her. "Not that it matters to you anymore. You're going to carry on for the rest of your existence as a single and pathetic Weasley."
Ginny glared at him. She hadn't really thought of it that way. Well, she had thought along those lines but never to that degree. She had never really been the one all the boys were after. In fact, she had the feeling that they had avoided her at all costs. She mainly credited it towards her brothers. But now she would never be able to get someone, even if her brothers no longer threatened them with bodily harm, or perhaps even a gruesome death.
"Why do you have to be like that?" Ginny growled. "Always trying to put me down." Then something occurred to her. "And you're wrong. I could still have a love life in a sense. I am a poltergeist." She raised her eyebrows as if to make her point. Malfoy got a totally disturbed look on his face which caused Ginny to grin evilly. "What?" she asked innocently. "Does the thought of having sex with a ghost gross you out?"
"It does more than gross me out," he spat. "Not only is it disgusting, it's wrong in so many ways. Not to mention that it's necrophilism." He stared at the green sheets then, seeming to think, his face getting a more and more disgusted look as time went on. Then he shuddered. "No. It's just wrong."
Ginny shrugged, sending more mist swirling. "What ever you say, Malfoy," she sighed, still grinning slightly. Who would have thought that she could freak out a Malfoy with a conversation like that? 'Now imagine if I actually try to do something, right here in his bed,' she thought impishly, but decided against it, figuring the boy would scream bloody murder. 'Though it would be amusing...'
They sat in silence for a moment then Ginny turned to face him. "Can I have my book back now?" she asked, pointing at the book he had clutched in his hands. He looked down at it as though he had forgotten it was there.
He frowned at her for a moment then silently held it out to her. "I was finished the parts I wanted to read anyway," he drawled.
Ginny frowned at the book. It was rather large by her standards and would probably take a good week or two to read. But he had finished it already.
"Oh," she sneered slightly. "You're one of those freakishly fast readers
then."
"I suppose you can say that,"
he sneered back. "Jealous
Weasley?"
"Of you, never," she replied with an uncaring tone, taking the book from him, making sure that her hand brushed his own. She smirked at him as he shivered involuntarily. She then rose off the bed and made for the ceiling.
"You know it's rather sad," Malfoy called after her, causing her to stop her ascent and look down on him. "That you have to find out about yourself through a book."
"How else would you like me to figure out what I am exactly?" she snarled, lowering herself slowly to the ground once more.
"Why not ask that git Peeves," Malfoy offered, looking at her with a slightly smug expression. It instantly reminded her of the Draco Malfoy who had ruled the school back in her first year. The proud and arrogant one who thought nothing was ever his fault, that nothing was ever his responsibility as long as his father was there. It was almost startling how different that one was from the one she saw before her nowadays. The one that seemed depressed and unsound.
"He doesn't like me," she said truthfully, though as to why she wasn't quite sure. Perhaps it was the revelation she had had moments before. The revelation of just how broken Malfoy was now. But then, what would Malfoy care if she had problems making nice with the other poltergeists?
"I wonder why?" the blond drawled, confirming her suspicions. She sneered at him. "Just take your stupid book and go. I want to sleep yet tonight."
"Fine," Ginny snapped, clutching her book to her semitransparent person. "Goodnight."
With that she flew up towards the ceiling, passing through the floor and into her own room. She looked down at her hands to her book only to realize it wasn't there. Dropping down to her knees with a curse, she looked through the floor to the room bellow where her book was lying on the tiled floor. It must have been quite the sight for Malfoy was looking at her as though she had lost her mind.
"Oops," she said simply, drifting back down towards the ground. She crouched down and scooped up her book with as much dignity as she could muster. Apparently ghosts could muster a lot. Yet she could still feel her cheeks burning. "Guess I'll just take the door then."
She moved towards it, feeling his eyes on her the whole time. Laughing at her. With a sudden urge to seek vengeance, she opened the door, inclined her head towards him then slammed the door as hard as she could, relishing the sound his roommate made.
~*~
"What the fuck is wrong with you Malfoy?!" Blaize Zambini raged from across the room. "I was sleeping!"
"Get over your self, Zambini," Draco sneered, shooting daggers in his direction. He really did not like that kid, regardless if he was the last Slytherin male besides himself. "It wasn't me."
"Then who was it?" the dark haired boy snarled, his blue eyes flashing. "That stupid ghost that keeps following you around?"
Draco had a sudden urge to throw something at the tussled haired boy. He was quite disturbed to think that this urge had arisen because he had insulted Weasley. 'No,' he said firmly. 'It's because he's a git.'
"As a matter of fact," Draco drawled, reaching to close the hangings around his bed. "It was." With that he snapped them shut, ignoring the hiss of annoyance the other boy made.
He didn't know why exactly, but the other boy was driving him up the wall. Sure, he had never liked him, but his animosity was increasing everyday. Every time he saw him. 'At least classes haven't started again,' he thought with slight satisfaction. It would have been terrible if he had to see him everyday.
Letting out a hiss of air, Draco reclined back against his pillows and looked up at his canopy, tracing the shadows with his eyes. Slowly a red headed someone drifted into his mind, mist and all. 'Great' he thought. 'Now I'll be having twisted dreams of her coming onto me or something twisted like that.'
He had to admit that the girl was insane and she was only going to get worse it seemed. He had managed to read most of the book in the time that he had had. And what he had read had not made him very happy. In fact it made him down right distraught. He was going to be haunted till he died. Or at least until Weasley decided it was time to pass on. And looking at the rest of the ghost residents in the school, he doubted very much that that would be any time soon.
'And all that shit about her love life,' he thought, beginning to feel rather disturbed once more. 'It's just wrong. I would never, even if she was still alive and she was the last Pureblood on earth.' Draco shook his head, trying to rid his mind of the image of her leaning towards him, batting her eyes at him. Yet it didn't go away. He shook it harder.
'What would it be like to make love to a ghost,' he mused silently to himself, instantly horrified at what had just crossed through his mind. 'How can I think that?!' he shrieked at himself in his mind. 'That's wrong! So wrong!'
With that, Draco rolled over, smashing his head into one of his feather pillows and held his breath. Maybe that would solve all his problems. Make all his problems go away. But as the need for air began to pose a problem and his lungs began to scream in protest, Draco realize this would not work. He would not find solace in a pillow. But the question was now, where did he find it? He didn't think there would be another rain storm any time soon.
Rolling over, Draco pulled the covers up to his chin, staring into the pitch blackness around him, seeing nothing. Maybe the darkness would hold the answer with it's seemingly infinite void. Yet Draco couldn't seem to find any clam in here either. He only began to feel that maybe someone or something was staring back at him.
So closing his eyes in defeat, Draco drifted off into sleep.
Yet sleep did not grace Draco very long, for he was soon awoken to the sound of chirping birds. He glared blearily at them, wishing to no end that they would suddenly spontaneously combust and burn into nothing but a pile of ash. This did not happen, unfortunately, and the blond eventually dragged himself out of bed and got ready for the day.
Stifling a yawn he made his way through the vacant Common Room and towards the Great Hall for breakfast. He didn't see anyone on the way there, and was not to surprised to see that there were only half a dozen students scattered about the place. All students who were in younger years. One of them was the student who had talked about the cannibals when he had been on the walk, but he did not want to dwell on that at all.
Not that he minded the emptiness all that much. It had actually been a little nice to walk the halls of the school and imagine that he was the only one left in the school. That no one was around to bother him. To ignore him. Or to follow him. He wasn't sure what was worse anymore. Whether it was to have no one to be around him all the time or if it was Pansy Parkinson tailing him as she had the day before. It was with this thought that Draco realized there was a lot more wrong with him than he had initially thought.
Looking down on his plate of toast and Sunnyside up eggs, he realized that he was no longer hungry. He pushed his plate to the center of the table where it disappeared from sight. Glancing about, Draco slowly sat up then walked out of the hall. He wasn't quite sure where he was going, but as he entered the Entrance Hall he saw too many people that he didn't particularly want to speak to, let alone see.
The Dream Team was the main group of individuals on Draco's Must Not See list. He passed them, holding his head high and sneering at them slightly. The red headed member, the tallest of them all, gave him the finger. Draco kept walking. Now he knew there was really something wrong with him. 'How could I not stand up to that?' he wondered in rising despair.
The Dream Team must have been thinking along those same lines, for he heard a squawk of laughter then the hushed words of whispers. Scowling, Draco picked up his pace and headed down a hall. He didn't care where he was going as long as he could get away from them. But he knew they wouldn't follow him.
"All the lonely people, where do they all come from? All the lonely people, where do they all belong?" greeted his ears and Draco's already dampened mood got even wetter. As though a hurricane had just swept past and deposited half the ocean coast on it. He frowned, rounding a corner. He already knew who he would see.
"Eleanor Rigby died in the church and was buried along with her name. Nobody came. Father McKenzie, wiping the dirt from his hands as he walks from the grave. No one was saved," the red headed ghost sang floating from the ceiling upside-down, seeming not to realize her audience.
"Does the world seem better from that angle?" Draco asked, mentally slapping himself in the head for not saying it with a sneer. It had simply come out in a slight drawl. 'How could I not sneer at her?'
"As a matter of fact," Weasley said slowly, not looking at him. "It does. Though as to what it would be to you I have no idea."
Draco narrowed his eyes. "You were singing again." And this time it was with a sneer. 'Good,' he thought. 'I'm not totally gone then.' "And it was Muggle."
"It's a free world," Weasley said lazily, rolling her eyes to look at him dully through the long hair that was falling down from her head. "I can sing whenever and whatever I want."
"Some people might find it offensive," he stated simply, smirking at her slightly.
"Someone like you?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. It was rather odd how he could actually see her features when if she had been real he probably could not see through her hair. Yet it was transparent and he could see her transparent face through it like a slightly frosted panel of glass.
"Yes," he relied with a shrug. She glared down on him slightly, yet there was still a dull look in her eyes. But she didn't respond. Draco stared up at her for a while, but neither of them spoke. Then finally he said: "Why do you sing so much, anyways?"
She looked at him, her face hardening slightly. It was if she was trying to look through him, to see what he was really like inside. Draco found it rather ironic since he could see the ceiling through her head.
"My father always listened to classic rock music," she finally replied in what Draco took as a truthful voice. But then really, why would she lie about a thing like that? "And lately it keeps playing itself in my head when I'm alone and I can't help but sing along with it." She shrugged slightly at this then laughed a little. It was a cheery yet depressing sound. "I don't know why I am telling you this though." She frowned then.
Draco looked up at her, then suddenly something clicked into place in his head. 'Music,' he thought, excitement rising in his chest. 'She's also becoming obsessed with music!' And then thoughts and plans began to rush through his mind. Plans on how he could convince her to become more obsessed with music than with him. Plans to get her mind to bend more towards sound than towards him. 'Perhaps I won't be haunted until the day I die.'
But just as he was thinking this, Weasley flipped around and drifted nearer to the ground towards him.
"Why are you smirking at me like that, Malfoy?" she said in a low voice by his ear. He started and looked up at her in slight surprise. Not that it showed much on his face. He was still a Malfoy. "Do you think that it's funny?"
"Wha- No," he said quickly, not liking her sudden change in mood. Dangerous the book had said. Poltergeists could get dangerous. 'But really, what can the ghost girl do?' he thought darkly, suppressing the urge to glare at her. He spoke instead: "I was just thinking about something else."
"Let me guess," she said dangerously, her face contorting slightly. "It was something mean and nasty about my father, wasn't it?"
"No," he said again. Then he sneered. "But if you would like me to, I will gladly do it. Even if I have to share it with you."
"Why do you have to be like that?" she suddenly shrieked, and Draco flinched involuntarily backward from her sudden burst of rage. 'Well that was uncalled for,' he though, struggling hard not to rub his throbbing ears. But the ghost was not done. "Why do you have to be such an asshole every minute of everyday? Why can't you just be nice?!"
"But I'm not a nice person," he heard himself drawl back at her, not even realizing he was saying it. But he didn't do anything to replace what he had said.
"No," she said darkly, moving to float above him. Draco looked up at her warily. "No you are not." Her face contorted even further. "And I'm sick of it!"
Before Draco could move, her deathly cold hands had shot down towards him, taking a firm grip on the collar of his robes. Draco convulsed at the sudden contact. It was like falling into a lake in winter and he could feel himself begin to shiver.
"What do you think you are doing?" he snapped then had to hold back a curse as he felt himself being lifted off the ground. "Weasley!" he bellowed, his feet dangling beneath him.
"I'm sick of you Malfoy," Ginny's voice came from above him, and he shuddered at the sound. He had never heard anything so dark, so angry. Not even from his father. 'Shit,' he thought weakly. "I'm sick of having this urge to follow you around. I'm sick of seeing your stupid face."
"So what are you doing then?" he demanded, looking wearily down at the ground. It was a good four feet away.
"I'm teaching you a lesson," she said simply. Still in that same cold voice. "And I am going to cure my need to be around you." And with that she shot off through the air, taking him with her.
Draco felt as though his stomach had been left where he had been before as he felt the air around him shoot past. His hands flew up to her hands, only to pass straight through them, through a waterfall of ice. He pulled them back, instead grabbing onto the neck of his robes and glaring up at her. The red head had a determined look on her face. A look that Draco had seen before on many of his father's friends and associates. Draco felt himself shudder once more.
Ginny rounded a corner, and Draco felt his legs fly uselessly to the side, the speed of her flying almost sending them into an alcove in the wall.
"Watch it Weasley," he snapped, glaring up at her. Then looking forwards once more he gasped. "What are you doing?!" he heard himself shriek. "Are you trying to kill me?!"
Ginny was headed straight towards a wall.
"As a matter of fact," she said simply. "I am."
"What?!" Draco screamed up at her, panic in his voice. She was going too fast. She was going too fast and the wall was coming closer to him far too fast. "You can't! You can't do that!"
But the poltergeist did not respond. She didn't even look down at him. She just kept that determined look on her face and kept right on her course. And the wall was three meters away.
Throwing his arms over his face in a desperate attempt to stop the wall, Draco slammed his eyes shut. 'Nice way to die,' he thought bitterly.
His body came to a sudden halt and he felt his heart throw itself against his ribcage. He kept his eyes shut, feeling all his organs and all his bones come crashing to the front of his body in slow motion. Yet it wasn't as painful as he thought it would be. In fact, it didn't hurt at all. Then he felt himself fall to the ground where he lay crumpled.
"Oh Merlin," he heard Weasley say in utter desperation. "Oh no. I couldn't have."
'Wait,' he thought after a moment. 'I can't hear if I'm dead.' He felt his heart stop. 'But if I'm a ghost...'
Draco's eyes flew wide and he gasped. Looking about in a frenzy and patting his body he felt relief wash over him. He was still whole. He was still alive. Then he looked up.
"I almost killed someone," she gasped, disbelief etched all over her face.
Draco stared blankly at her, feeling something growing in his chest. But it wasn't anger as he had all rights to feel. It was something far less familiar to the blond. It was pity. And it was then that Draco realized that the red headed ghost was just as screwed up as he was. Just as much in need of help as he was. That they had something in common. Some twisted and surreal connection that he didn't quite understand and feared that if he ever did that he would completely lose his mind.
Her shocked eyes rolled down to him. He felt his heart stop. "I almost killed you," she whispered. It was as though she was scared that if she said it any louder that someone would hear and do something horrid. "I'm sorry," she gasped, then turned and quickly floated back the way she had come. "I'm so sorry."
"Weasley!" he called after her, still seated on the ground. But the ghost just kept floating away until she was around the corner and out of sight.
Draco sat there. His heart was pounding and it wasn't just from his close brush with death. He had felt something when he saw her face. He had felt something that scared him more than anything in the world had ever done before.
"This can't be happening," he said aloud in a daze.
He fell back against the ground, his head making a soft thunking noise.
"Ow."
~*~
A/N: Well there you go. I have made them all go insane and OOC. Oh well! I have the next chapter outlined, but I don't know when it will come out. Bah.
Many thanks to: Mme Katie Bell(Neither would I), Dracos gal, Queen of Night(... ~ponders about running away~), hpfan90, Ella8(We'll see what happens, but I can't make any promises. :D), Sirius' Diamond(I like your name), Darcel(Perhaps...), Rockelle(Thanks for reviewing all my other stuff too), o0true0o(Thanks to you too for reviewing all my stuff), j'ashley and Amaya(Hmm, I like how that demented rock loving Weasley sounds...).
If I did not mention your name above then I did not read it. A while back ffnet had some problems and I could not see about 20 reviews. I still can't believe that many of you reviewed this piece of crap. But yes, if you had something you really wanted me to read then please, by all means, review again. Thanks!
~*~
A Note From Tiny Q:
Just so you all know, I am having real issues with this story at the moment. It just is not working out the way I want it to. It was supposed to be a replacement for Fragments and be crazy funny but instead it has mutated into this beast that's all angsty and taunts me in my sleep. And it's just damn odd as people have told me multiple times. How do stories warp so? It's just not fair.
As well, the more I think about how I was initially going to end it, the more I hate the idea. And I keep trying to work out the kinks but only get more in the process. Bah. So I've been trying to think up a new ending but that just doesn't work because I wrote out the end first and it's all mushy romantic but if I change it it won't be. And I have even considered doing it Lallie's way, for a very short time mind you. What is her way you ask? She kills everyone off when she gets mad. But no, I will not succumb to that. Yet.
So yes, all this pointless and immature whining is just to let you all know that I am putting this story on hold indefinitely. Perhaps I will get inspiration to fix it all, but I can't see that happening unless I rewrite the whole story. Which won't happen any time soon. And it's not like anyone's reading it any more anyways. So I am sorry to those of you who actually were, but sometimes life's a bitch sometimes.
Sorry again,
Tiny Q