All I Ever Wanted

DISCLAIMER: Warning! I make no claim to any property of J.K. Rowling's, and am in no way profiting by this. I do offer her my sincerest thanks for allowing us this garden of the mind in which we play. Further Warning! This story...and likely any I ever write…are dominated by gay themes and characters. That's how it is, if this in any way makes you uncomfortable...do not read further.


All I Ever Wanted…chap. 54 'Happy Endings For All'


Harry became aware of the sensation of drifting. When he tried to open his eyes, despite being sure that he had tried, all around him was naught but empty darkness. He felt heavy. It was a bit like dreaming, but he felt completely conscious. Was this what happened when you died?

A far off light became faintly visible. Harry saw pinpricks of light fill the darkness around him suddenly, and with a rush of vertigo, he knew he was standing. There was nothing beneath him, and yet he felt secure upon some unknown surface.

“Is anyone there?” No reply, but at least he could speak now.

“Hello!?”

Something faint could be heard in the empty distance.

“Help! Where am I?!” The sound of footsteps became clear and distinct. Still, Harry could hear no other voice. A thread of panic crept through him, even in this strange state of mind. Would he be alone here forever?

“Harry! I’m coming!” The voice was terrifyingly familiar. Harry peered into the inky haze and saw a dark figure moving slowly closer.

“Who are you?! Where are we?!”

“I’m coming, Harry! Wait and stay calm!” The figure moving through the gloom was tall and lean. Harry could make out long dark hair framing a slightly gaunt face. His heart leapt when the man drew closer.

“SIRIUS! Is that you! Sirius! I thought I’d never see you again.” Harry ran breathlessly into the arms of his godfather, who patiently wrapped his arms around Harry and let the younger man lose himself for a few minutes.

Harry held Sirius as tightly as he could, afraid that the man would vanish like a will o' wisp as soon he let go. He finally pulled away a little, teary-eyed, just enough to look into Sirius’ eyes and speak.

“I’m so sorry! It was my fault. If I’d just listened, it…that never would have happened. I…I never told you how much I loved you. You were so good to me, and I got you killed! I do love you. I’m sorry, Sirius. I’m sorry…”

“Shhhh. It’s alright, Harry. Listen to me. I’m fine. You didn’t do anything wrong that I didn’t do, too. You know what? Maybe if we’d shared a little more information with you, it never would have happened at all. Everybody dropped the ball that day. Don’t worry about it. I love you, too. I just wish I’d said it then. Stop crying, okay. You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of. Quite the contrary, I’m so proud of you I could just bust! You really did it!”

Harry’s memories came flooding back to him. Voldemort, Hogsmeade, Draco, all of it! Harry stepped away in horror and looked around himself in shock. His location hadn’t really registered on him yet.

“Sirius! Am I dead? Where are we?”

“No. You’re not dead, and we’re ’in between’ right now. Remember the Veil? Well, that’s how I got here. There isn’t much hope of going back, either. They kinda frown on transients. You, however, are a different case. Sometimes, when a person has been through extraordinary circumstances, like you, there’s just a little wiggle room.”

“But…” Harry had a few questions, but Sirius interrupted him.

“Hang on, Harry. I’ve got a lot to cover here, and it may answer most of your questions before I’m done. Trust me. In fact, let’s sit down.” They sat, face to face, and Sirius continued.

“I wound up here by accident. This is just a place people pass through on the way to somewhere else. Next life, heaven, hell, whatever you want to call it, it comes after this. No one is supposed to stay here, but I didn’t really die, and I’m not technically alive, so I’m stuck. The ‘management’ has no way to deal with it, so I’m essentially an errand boy for them. When you slipped through here, I asked to be the one to talk to you. So here we are.

Now, frankly Harry, you have a big choice to make. You can move on from here, and whatever is waiting for you after life will be there. You can also choose to go back. You can wake up as soon as you heal up and come conscious, and be a part of the world again, at least until you pass on of other causes someday. I’m happy to see you, Harry, but we don’t have long. Time moves differently in this place. It feels like it hasn’t been long since I got here, but from the look of you, it’s been a couple of years. I wish I had more time with you, and we do have a little, but it won’t be much. Okay, questions?”

Harry took a deep breath and gathered his thoughts. “Where is Draco? I belong wherever he is.”

Sirius looked apologetic and guilty. “Harry, I’m really sorry, but I’m not allowed to know, or tell, anyone about anyone else. If I knew, I’d tell you in a heartbeat, but I don’t. I can only tell you what I feel, and I want you to know that I’m glad you found someone who made you happy. That’s a hard thing to find anywhere.”

“Okay. So you couldn’t say anything about my parents, either, could you?”

“No. I couldn’t. Shite, I feel fucking useless to you, Harry. I wish I could…I can only say what I feel. I want you to live, Harry. You had too much on your shoulders for so long, and now you’ve gone and done it. You won! I want you to have a real life, one without any of that shite hanging over you. I want to know you’re out there laughing with friends. But…it has to be your choice. I can’t make it for you.”

“Damn. I meant that, Sirius…you know, before…about you. Now you tell me there’s no way out for you, and I can’t know where the people I love are before I choose. I’d like this to be the last hard choice I have to make for awhile. I’ve had enough of that. I’m just really tired. It’s been so hard. I missed you more than I can even say, and the only thing that made me feel alive again was meeting Draco. I saw him fall, but I don’t know if he lived or died. If I choose wrong, how will I find him again?”

“Go with your gut, Harry. There is no wrong choice. You live, you pass through here one more time, just later. You die, you go where you go, and people will catch up with you sooner or later. I’m just glad I got to see you for a little. I’m so proud of you, Harry, and I know James and Lily would have been, too. You turned out better than any kid has a right to! Just as long you know you’re loved no matter what, go ahead and make your call.”

Harry grabbed Sirius into a desperate hug, and some instinct told him he’d better say goodbye before he chose, as there would be no words after. He felt Sirius stroking his hair gently and choking back a sob of his own. Then Harry chose, and everything whirled away.

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“…and they lived happily ever after. The end. I liked that one, didn’t you, Harry? I know fairy tales seem a little juvenile, but the classics are just timeless. I know I like reading them to you. I miss you, love. They don’t believe me, but I know you can hear me in there. I know you’re coming home. I’ll be waiting for you. I’ll always wait for you, Harry. I love you…”

Somewhere in Harry’s mind, it felt like a switch had turned. He felt so heavy, it was an effort just to think. He was practically a prisoner in his own body. But he heard that voice.

If he could have moved, he would have screamed for joy, but nothing seemed to respond right. And there was PAIN! His mind actually hurt, and his body as well, though not so much. It felt like he’d been the victim of a lengthy Crucio. It was a lot easier to just not try. The beautiful voice nearby kept on speaking, and he was vaguely aware that his hand was being held, even though it felt like an unresponsive lump of lead to Harry.

“…and it’s almost time for visitors to leave again. Don’t worry though, I’ll be back tomorrow. I always come back. First thing tomorrow we’ll start another story. Happy endings for all, I promise.”

Harry felt something akin to panic. He didn’t want to be alone like this. He knew that voice, he wanted that voice near him so badly. He had to do something! The hand was slipping away from his, and he felt softness brush against his brow. Harry bent his will to a single task, and with every fiber of being he forged a single word.

“..don..” It took everything he’d ever learned from Occlumency to make his will control his body, but he’d done it. He could hear the gasp of breath that said he’d been heard. Then a heavy weight was on him, and he had the suspicion that the weight was cute and blond, even though his world was dark at the moment. Then the weight pulled away.

“HE’S AWAKE! HELP! HARRY IS AWAKE! GET IN HERE! PLEASE! Gods, don’t these people ever listen! Harry! Harry, stay with me, can you do something for me? Can you move? Just twitch a muscle, anything. I knew you were there! I knew you’d come back! I knew you could hear me, and I know you just couldn’t answer then. Here they come, Harry. They’ll help. Just try to do something else so they know your okay.”

“Mr. Malfoy! St. Mungo’s would appreciate a shred of decorum on your part. This is a hospital, and as such…”

“Harry just spoke! Stuff your decorum! Get your asses in here and get to work! If my lover goes another minute without being checked, I swear I’ll fill the wards with the staff, starting with you!”

“I never! If...”

“IF YOU DON’T START DOING SOMETHING USEFUL RIGHT NOW…YOU NEVER WILL, EITHER! WAND UP! NOW!”

“Alright, alright. Diagnosium! Hmm. Let’s see. There is activity, and coherent thought. Muscle atrophy is only mild as we continued treatment. Speech center functional. I believe you’re right, Mr. Malfoy, we can take steps from here if you’ll excuse us. We’ll let you know as soon as there’s an improvement, but visitor’s hours are over.”

“He asked me not to go, you prat! He’s conscious, and I’m not leaving! I’ll donate a wing if you want! Name it after whatever pathetic spawn you generated at home if you like, but if you ask me to leave now, they’ll need a new field of study to cure what I do to you!”

“Aaaa…very well, Mr. Malfoy. I see no reason why, at this stage, it would harm anything to let you stay.”

“I thought you’d see it my way.” Harry could almost hear the wicked smirk that must have accompanied that comment.

--------------------------------------------------

Harry woke the next morning, and the spells and potions had done their work. He felt much better, and the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was the hand that held his own. His eyes followed that hand to the sleeping boy in the chair next to the bed.

Draco looked unbearably beautiful, even though his clothes were rumpled from being slept in, he looked thoroughly unkempt, and his eyes has dark circles under them. Harry had enough strength, thanks to a host of spells, to squeeze the hand that held his own.
Draco’s eyes flicked open, and a heartbeat later, he was curled around Harry on a bed that was much too small, and never intended for sharing.

It took a long while for Draco to return to a state of even partial coherency, and they saved the heavy conversations until long after Harry had been liberally coated in kisses. Harry found that he could move and speak with surprising ease, considering his condition the night before, and he made as much use of his energy as he could, managing to sit up and even shift his pillows without help.

The room was covered in flowers, vases, gifts, cards, and balloons. Some were Muggle in origin, others clearly magical, complete with enchanted images and scrolling well wishes. Harry got up his courage and finally asked some important questions.

“Love…how long was I…you know…gone?”

Draco sighed, he hadn’t been looking forward to anything serious, just having Harry with him, conscious and well, was enough to leave him giddy.

“Harry, this might be a little much for you to hear, but it’s been weeks since the battle. You’ve been in a coma. You channeled more magic in a few minutes than any human was ever meant to…and there were…well…side effects.”

Draco was biting his lip. Harry felt a flicker of nervous apprehension in his stomach. This couldn’t be good. There were things Draco obviously didn’t want to have to say. Harry closed his eyes for a second, then steeled himself for the worst. He remembered Sirius, he knew he’d won, what could be so bad after that? A world with no Voldemort, and Draco was all his. Nothing to worry about!

“How many weeks, love. I’m okay. Just tell me.”

“Not many, just the last four weeks, plus a couple days. As soon as you came out of the coma last night, they started treatments to get your motor skills and speech back into shape, and they say there won’t be any lasting scars.”

“See, that’s not so bad, love. What other side effects?”

Draco looked stricken. He pulled a mirror from a bag at his feet and held it to himself nervously. “Before you look, I want you to remember that not only do I love you, but you look incredibly sexy to me, and only the fact that you have some healing yet to do has kept me from ravishing your body right here. Okay?”

“The fact that you have to throw me a disclaimer has me worried, but I feel fine. Don’t worry so much…give me that and I’ll have a look for myself.” Harry was sweating bullets over Draco’s little speech, but if he showed it, it might panic Draco. He took the mirror and turned slowly toward his face.

Everything was fine. Chin good, cheeks fine, if a little hollow, lips and nose fine, eyes green as ever, hair mussed and…and wrong! The hair above his temples, running down either side of his head, were a fine silvery gray. The rest of his hair was the same mussed black as always, and his face was normal, but his hair…his hair looked like that of a man twenty years older. When Harry looked very closely, he saw small ‘crow’s feet’ wrinkles just at the corners of his eyes.

“Wow.” It came out quieter than Harry intended. “Draco, how? How did this happen?”

“The raw magic, love. They tell me you may have burned a few years off the end of your life. I guess it’s the price for using that much power. Premature aging wasn’t listed as a warning for using raw magic, but apparently no one has ever used that much before. There were other effects, too.”

“Like what?” Harry wanted to just listen to Draco, he didn’t feel ready to think about all this yet.

“There’s a place in the middle of the street in Hogsmeade, the spot where you destroyed Voldemort. It’s about two meters across. No magic works there. None. They tried everything. The best guess is that so much magic struck that spot, that the fabric of reality is a bit weak, and the universe copes with that by not allowing any more interference. They put up a statue of you there last week. Looks perfect, and it fills that area and prevents people from accidentally having spells fail when they walk by. Two birds with one stone, you know?”

Harry’s imagination reeled. What the hell had he unleashed? Draco had told him what was known about Voldemort’s death earlier, and shared the long list of who was injured in the final battle, including the news of Vincent Crabbe’s death, but Harry still couldn’t believe that he’d done what had been described to him.

“What else? I know there’s something you don’t want to say. I’m tired, not blind, love. You can tell me. I’m alive, and so are you. I already have all I ever wanted, nothing else matters.” Harry swallowed. His words sounded brave, but his stomach was fluttering something awful.

Draco grimaced and tried to look Harry in the eyes without cracking. He couldn’t quite manage it. “Harry. They say your channel is…it’s, fucking hell!” Draco broke for a moment while tears slipped down his cheeks. He gasped for air and finally spoke again.

“You might never be able to use magic again. Your channel was…damaged. Burnt shut. Only Dumbledore, Ron, Hermione and I know about it. We don’t even know if it can be healed, or if it will ever heal itself. There’s no way to know, Harry.”

Harry hadn’t seen that one coming. He blinked a few times in shock. He’d only really been a wizard for seven years, but he’d paid the price for being one his entire life. It was hard to be frightened of a life without magic. He’d already led one. Now he was just Harry Potter again. Harry let his breath out in a long sigh. “I see.” It was all he could figure to say at the moment.

Draco leaned close again. “Harry,” he whispered, “I don’t care about the magic, I don’t care about anything but you. I was so afraid you wouldn’t come back. I told them you would, but I never let them know how afraid I really was. Last night, when you spoke, I fell in love all over again. I couldn’t make it without you. I just need you to know how happy I am just to have you awake and talking to me again. We’re going home in a couple of days, and as soon as you have your strength back, I’m going to make you pay dearly for the month I just spent not having sex. Do you hear me?”

Harry swallowed nervously. “You’re okay with…with me being a Squib? It might be permanent, and you’re still alright with that?”

Draco looked crossly at him. “Get it through your thick head, Potter. You are my only love. I will never love another.”

Draco pulled the jewel pendant from beneath his shirt. “I will die wearing this, Harry James Potter. Nothing changed who you are, and nothing ever could. Magic or no, you are and always will be mine.” Then he leaned in and snogged Harry half senseless. Even exhausted, Harry’s libido began to faintly flicker to life under the barrage of kisses he received.

The rest of the day was spent greeting visitors, who were allowed in in pairs, one pair after another, all afternoon. Most of the Order, Gryffindor House, and a few Slytherins made an appearance, but Albus Dumbledore was the most welcomed.

When the old wizard finally stepped through the door, eyes twinkling brightly, Harry almost launched himself out of bed. Only Draco’s insistence that he take it easy kept him still long enough for Dumbledore to come to him.

Albus hugged Harry for what felt like an eternity, and Harry realized after a bit that he wasn’t the only one crying.

“Oh, my boy. Harry, you make an old wizard proud. Welcome back, welcome back.” The old man finally broke away, took a seat and pulled a handkerchief to wipe his eyes. There wasn’t even the slightest trace of embarrassment on Albus’ face while he rubbed away his tears and blew his nose loudly into the cloth.

“You surpassed all our expectations, Harry. I only wish I could have been there for you. I cannot tell you how sorry I truly am, that I was unreachable, when you most needed help. That you prospered and succeeded despite my failure, is proof positive of what an exceptional young man you have become. In the end, you saved us all, when no one else could have. This world owes you a deeper debt than most will ever know, Harry. I, for one, count myself among the fortunate, that I have had the pleasure of knowing you.”

Harry was dumbstruck for a moment, then collected himself and asked the question that had been at the back of his mind for months.

“I’m just glad you’re alive. I missed you so much. Please…tell me what happened to you.”

As it turned out, Albus Dumbledore had been returning from mainland Europe when Voldemort’s agents became aware of his presence. There were other places in the world where magic did not work, proof of some ancient accident of magic long passed, and this time the Dark Lord’s servants used such a place as a trap.

Voldemort himself had set the snare, using his servant’s movements and deeds to lure Dumbledore’s interest. Unaware that he was the spied upon and not the spy, Albus had stumbled into their trap and had been imprisoned.

Voldemort had no intention of killing him until after the battle was over. There were possibilities for bluffs and tricks as long as Dumbledore was not confirmed as dead, and so water and bread were slipped to him, sustaining the old wizard’s life, if not his good cheer.

It was one of Voldemort’s bluffs that had lured Scrimgeour into pulling the Aurors from Hogsmeade, and it had worked perfectly. To Harry’s relief, Albus informed him that, as soon as the Wizengamot learned of Scrimgeour’s colossal blunder and it’s nearly ruinous consequences, the man was sacked and ejected from the Ministry with his reputation in tatters.

Kingsley Shacklebolt was now the Minister of Magic, and was doing an uncannily good job, despite only a few weeks of practice. That news cheered Harry quite a bit.

Albus had finally been rescued from his prison the day after the battle, when Severus Snape returned to consciousness, having been knocked out by the surge of magic that struck him through his Dark Mark. He quickly informed the Order of Voldemort’s trap and Albus’ location, and hours later, Albus was back at Hogwart’s, enjoying his first decent meal in months with considerable relish and gusto.

Since then, Albus had been quite busy closing Hogwarts for the season, and dealing with the many Order members and Ministry officials who inquired of Harry. He had also researched Harry’s condition as much as time and his limited energy would allow.

Truthfully, Albus Dumbledore looked almost as old as he really was. Even Harry could tell that the long captivity had taken a visible toll on the elderly wizard’s health. It came as no surprise when Dumbledore informed them quite soberly of his intention to retire.

He would spend one last year at Hogwarts, coaching his replacement and making necessary changes, and then he would leave Hogwarts for good, returning to the large cottage on the coast of Scotland that he maintained for vacations and personal study.

Albus had a few gifts to impart as well. Draco hadn’t mentioned it, but even in absentia, Harry had been awarded the Order of Merlin, First Class. Albus hand delivered it to Harry then and there. He promptly produced a second one and handed it to a shocked Draco.

“I’m afraid you weren’t counting at the time, my dear boy, but when you were wandering through Hogsmeade during the battle, witness reports indicate that you incapacitated or killed no less than fourteen Death Eaters, more than anyone else in the Order. No less than nine separate survivors credit you with saving their lives that night, including Arthur Weasley and Kingsley Shacklebolt. With the exception of Harry, no one person made a greater contribution to our victory over Voldemort than you. Congratulations are in order I believe.” Dumbledore shook each of their hands in turn.

Harry looked at Draco, who was blushing brightly and stammering in embarrassment that it wasn’t as much as all that. “Fourteen! Draco! That’s bloody fantastic! Why didn’t you tell me!”

“It wasn’t like that…really. I was looking for you and they were in my way. They had to go. Nothing all that heroic. Hell, I cursed most of them in the back while they were attacking someone else. Slytherin way and all. Although I will say that Ron’s wand probably never saw that much action before.”

“You deserve it! Do you realize people will think of the name Malfoy and the word hero as synonymous now? You did it, love!” Harry pulled Draco into a kiss; even bedridden the excitement overtook him.

Dumbledore eventually excused himself, with the intention of simple handshakes, but only actual hugs would suffice for a farewell. Draco spent that final night at the hospital practically glued to Harry’s side, and after another day of heavy treatments, Harry was well enough to walk, albeit rather slowly, and only with the aid of a cane and Draco.

They returned home to the Manor that day, and Harry slowly settled into a life of luxury he’d only imagined. His NEWT scores had been excellent, and his accreditation from Hogwarts was waiting for him. It included his license for Occlumency and Legilimency, as well as his more traditional certifications in Potions and Defense Against The Dark Arts.

As it turned out, Slytherin had taken the House Cup that year, largely owing to the hundred-plus point lead they’d gained from academic improvement. The credit went to Draco, Blaise and Pansy, with Draco being held in the highest possible esteem for his efforts on behalf of his house. The fact that his final accreditation included honors for acting as a pro-tem instructor made him quite the stand out graduate, indeed!

Draco had considerable scarring from the curse that had nearly killed him. Only Arthur Weasley's timely intervention had made it possible to hold Draco's spirit to his body. Just along his collarbone, across his throat and chest, and along his ribs, Draco had a red weal and faintly puckered flesh that would never heal.

None of it was visible when he was formally dressed, but at home he occasionally broke into tears when he disrobed. Eventually, the knowledge that Harry adored him more than ever, scarred or no, sunk in, and the tears eventually faded to occasional frowns.

The summer moved on, and with much experimentation, Snape, Dumbledore, Hermione and Draco managed to assess the state of Harry’s magical abilities. They ran small tests almost daily until they could work out what was and wasn’t safe for Harry to try.

With effort, Harry could travel by Floo, and even command a broom. It was harder than ever before, but at least Harry possessed a little more magical talent than say, Filch or Arabella Figg. Apparition was out of the question, requiring too much power for Harry to even attempt, and wandless spells were equally out of the question.

With wand in hand, Harry could occasional get out weak spells, the likes of which he’d once been casting in first year. After a while, despite the protestations of others, Harry simply made himself comfortable doing things the Muggle way.

He avoided the public eye more than ever, and spent endless days tending the Malfoy gardens by hand. His relationship with Draco was fine, and they ‘christened’ nearly every room in the Manor within a few weeks of moving in.

Draco, however, chafed at the knowledge that Harry had stopped fighting to win his magic back. Sometimes Harry would forget his condition, reflexively casting an ‘Accio’ or a ‘Lumos’, and the look of shame and anger that flickered across his face made Draco want to scream.

At least Harry seemed happy. He loved the gardens, and had made improvements to one section after another. They hadn’t really left the Manor for more than a few hours in nearly three months, and Draco had hoped to travel sometime soon. He’d hoped to leave England before the winter came, but Harry seemed utterly absorbed in his gardening, and dodged the subject whenever it was brought up.

One day in late September, as a cool and pleasant breeze played across the grounds, Harry looked rather mournfully at one of Narcissa’s prized roses. Despite his best efforts, the center bush was dying. All the care Harry could muster availed him naught.

He’d forbidden Draco to interfere by magic, and he suspected that Draco occasionally violated that request whenever Harry wasn’t watching. As long as Draco was subtle about it and wasn’t caught, Harry didn’t begrudge Draco’s urge to help. It was better than arguing about it, and he still didn’t like thinking of his long absent magic.

The rose bush had reached a critical phase in its illness. Another few days and it would be beyond recovery. Harry could not bear the idea of failing Narcissa, and letting her beloved roses die, even if he had to break down and ask Draco for help. He was not, however, willing to surrender just yet.

Harry looked about furtively, hoping that Draco wasn’t watching. It wasn’t that failing hurt Harry. It was the look of angst on his lover’s face that tore Harry’s heart in half and left him cursing his loss of power. Draco wasn’t anywhere to be seen…so Harry gathered his will.

He took his time, calming his mind as only an Occlumens could, and reached calmly out with his mind and wand, then uttered his spell with quiet determination.

The rather tattered and sickly bush exploded with vitality, blooms and shoots rushing out in response to Harry’s command! Harry fell over backwards in shock, landing arse first in his supply of manure, laughing like a maniac all the while.

Harry stood, feeling tall for the first time in months, and dropped his wand. He reached out his arms, palms up and fingers loose…and pulled. The magic came, and as fast as it came, Harry poured it into the gardens around him. Flowers leapt to attention, shrubs burst into life, trees grew by inches, and even the grass thrived and thickened. Harry stood in the center of a riot of colors and scents, crying and laughing at the same.

Draco heard the sounds of excited birds and other animals, and stepped to the window to look in on Harry. He burst into tears when he saw the spectacle below, and dashed the length of the Manor to get out to the gardens. He threw himself into Harry’s arms, laughing almost as maniacally as Harry, and Harry held him close and swung his lover around in his arms.

As soon as Draco’s feet touched the ground again, Harry kissed him with a wild and passionate urgency that had been sorely missed those past few months. When, at the last, their lips finally parted, green eyes shined at Draco while Harry made his thoughts known.

“Hey, love? How do you feel about winter in Europe? I was thinking, maybe take a year off and just check the world out, just you and me.” Harry raised a cocky eyebrow, and wound up spending the next hour accepting Draco’s answer right there in the garden. Even the brief shower of rain was insufficient to part them, but that was alright. Some things are even better when wet.


THE END. (almost ) The Epilogue chapter will be up soon, closing this story for good. Thank you all, for your patience, your reviews, and your time.