159Chapter 13
The Place That You Are
Author's Note: I know it has been a long time. See the author's note at the end of the chapter for an… explanation of sorts. And apologies for taking so long.
Harry sat in the car, taking deep breaths while Michael waited patiently in the driver's seat. The young wizard knew that there was little reason to be worried. Nothing about being at the Dursley's was different than it had ever been before, and if it was different this summer, it was only in positive ways. His relatives had been mostly giving him space and avoiding him since the revelation about his godfather being a wanted fugitive. So then… why was he nervous?
Because it IS different, Harry thought to himself. Everything is different now.
And it was true. The last few weeks had thoroughly changed his life, and not just in regards to the more explicit activities. In fact, Harry felt that those were the least important changes that he'd experienced. He felt confidence unlike anything he'd ever felt before. In the past, he'd always felt that confidence and arrogance were the same thing. Virtually all of the examples in his life had shown him that they were, but Michael had shown him something different.
Real confidence wasn't from thinking you could do something better than someone else, it came from knowing that you could do what you expected of yourself. But Harry had rarely had any real expectations of himself either.
Yet he didn't feel confident at the moment, he felt nervous. Nervous that he'd lose control and lash out at the Dursleys. The training Michael had put him through had forced him to confront just what it was like to hurt another person. It had been in the context of consent, but still, he couldn't shake the feeling that he now knew what it was like to hurt someone on purpose without remorse. What would happen if he responded to Dudley like that? Well, he rather doubted he'd accidentally smack Dudley, seeing as Dudley was already extremely fond of roughing him up and instigating further attention seemed to be a losing proposition.
"Have you decided how you're going to handle your family?" Michael asked quietly. Harry stared in front of him at the car's dash, considering that very question. He knew what he should do. He just didn't know if he could.
"They kept me in a cupboard until I was 11," Harry muttered, still staring forward. "I thought my name was 'freak' until I was 4. I want… I want so badly for them to feel the pain that I felt most of my life with them. The despair, and the loneliness, and the lack of…" Harry stopped and inhaled deeply, letting it out as a sort of shuddering sigh. "Love." He lifted his eyes to look out the front window of the car. It was sunny, a beautiful day on the quiet street if he was honest. "But a part of me… a part of me pities them," he continued. "They are so afraid constantly. Not just of me, or of magic. Uncle Vernon is afraid of being seen as anything except a winner, anything except the best. Dudley is afraid of being stupid. Aunt Petunia is afraid of… well, I think she's afraid of me. Of Dudley ending up like me, without his parents."
After a few seconds of silence, Michael chimed in. "Those are reasonable fears, even if their actions aren't."
"I know, it's just…" Harry heaved another sigh before finally turning to look at the man that had quickly become a role model for him. "The fear controls them. I can see that now. All the things you taught me these last two weeks… I actually understand them. I empathize. And I don't want to. It was so much easier to just hate them."
Michael nodded with a thoughtful look. He glanced to the side before looking back at Harry's eyes.
"I know that would be easier," Michael conceded, "but hate can control you just the same as fear. You cannot actually control other people, Harry. This is the root of all the things I've taught you since we met. You can't control others, not unless they let you. And others cannot control you, unless you let them or trust them to." Michael reached forward with his hand, hesitating, before resting it on Harry's shoulder. "You can control yourself Harry. And once you know how to control yourself, all your actions are yours alone. All your choices are yours. But that means that all your mistakes and all the ways you hurt others are yours alone as well. I don't think this is a question of what they deserve. I think it's a question of how you want to treat yourself." Michael gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Do you want to treat yourself like the kind of person who would abuse others? Make them hurt? It may cause them pain, but the way that it hurts you, now that you are awake to these choices, is much deeper. You wouldn't be the Harry who is innocent any more. You'd be the Harry that hurts others because it makes you feel better."
Harry looked down, a scowl on his face. Michael pulled his hand back from the boy's shoulder, giving him the time to process what he'd just heard.
"This is why you taught me this, isn't it," Harry nearly whispered. "It… it wasn't really about Hermione. You could have taught me those things another way, I understand that now. You did it this way because of them. Because you knew what I'd come back to." Michael didn't respond, but he didn't have to. Harry hadn't really be asking a question, he'd been having a realization. "Do you… do you really expect me to fix them?" Harry asked.
"No," Michael replied immediately. "Just like you cannot control someone, you cannot fix them either. People become broken because of their choices, and they can only be fixed by their choices. I… I don't expect anything, Harry. I hope. I hope that you find a way to be the person you decide to be, instead of the person they might shape you into with their neglect and fear." Harry nodded faintly then looked up back at Michael. "I taught you that control is a lot of responsibility. That it's a matter of character. Even if they fail their test of character Harry, you don't have to fail yours."
"But if I just turn the other cheek… Michael, I understand now… I understand just how dangerous it is to let someone treat me that way, just how much it can damage someone. I don't want to be damaged."
"No, I'm not saying to accept their abuse Harry." Michael sighed this time. "At all times, it is okay for you to protect yourself. Everyone lets their anger out, Harry, but only a wise man then lets it go. It doesn't mean that you pretend they won't do something to hurt you again, it means letting go of revenge. Letting go of wanting to make the other person hurt."
"So I should… forgive them? After what I went through?" Harry sounded rather sour at the prospect.
"That's a tricky question," Michael said with a frown. "It is… I'm not sure it's entirely healthy to say that you should forgive them Harry. From what I've gathered, you weren't… physically mistreated more than a normal child might be, but the emotional and mental abuse that you suffered, because that's what it was, was quite severe." Michael paused for several seconds. "I don't think that you need to forgive them, if you don't want to. The things that happened were not your fault, Harry. You did not deserve them. I worry that saying you need to forgive them might make it feel… like they are not responsible for the things that happened. What I was talking about isn't about forgiveness, it's about abstaining from becoming cruel yourself."
"I don't know if I can do that," Harry muttered.
"You can," Michael replied firmly. "I've seen it in you, I know it's something you're capable of. That doesn't mean I'll be disappointed if you don't Harry, I understand how hard this will be. All I'm saying is…" Michael trailed off and looked away, an uncomfortable expression on his face. "Most of the things I've taught you I learned from experience. I… I know how hard what I'm saying to do is. Because when I faced the same situation, I wasn't able to do it."
"What…?" Harry's eyes widened at the admission, not being able to picture Michael as anything except the unflappable adult he'd known the last two weeks.
"My father was a veteran of the war, Harry. He…" Michael paused. "I faced a similar choice with him. I wasn't able to do it when I was your age, I wasn't able to do what I'm asking you to. I nurtured disgust and hate for him inside me for a long time, and it made both of us more miserable. It's the greatest regret in my life. I won't be disappointed in you if you can't do it. I couldn't do it." Michael gave Harry a small smile. "You're a good person Harry. No matter what you end up doing, I'm sure of that."
Harry sat for a few moments, feeling a decision building inside of him. It still wasn't clear to him what he would do, but deep inside himself he felt the certainty that goes with making a decision. He'd already decided what to do, he just wasn't able to say what that was yet, even to himself. Harry reached for the car door and glanced back at Michael.
"Will you help me with my things?" Harry asked. "I'm ready to go inside now."
Michael gave him one more reassuring smile before getting out and heading to the rear of the vehicle to retrieve Harry's things. Harry meanwhile was staring at the rose bushes that lined the front of the house, remembering the many times he'd been forced to spend hours under a hot summer sun such as this one among them.
It wasn't being forced to do chores that hurt him, he realized. It wasn't being treated like cheap labor. That was unpleasant, but if he were honest he actually enjoyed a lot of the work itself, even if he didn't enjoy the quantity of it. What hurt him was how… discarded it made him feel. He wasn't made to do the chores because they were in desperate need of being done, or because he'd misbehaved, or even because his Aunt and Uncle felt like that was the right way to treat him. They made him work so hard because it made him go away. Because they didn't want him.
Harry frowned at that thought. They didn't want him. That was the thing that hurt. They obviously hadn't been given a choice to take him. He didn't know exactly how he'd ended up in their care… he had little pieces of the puzzle, but no one had ever given him the details. But it was obvious from the way they talked, and the way they acted, and even from the few conversations he'd had with Dumbledore… they were forced into this and made no attempt to want him or care about him. But he cared for them.
That thought made his frown deepen. He resented them, and in some ways hated them, but… they were still the only family he had. No one else in his family was left, and family mattered to Harry.
Harry drifted briefly to thoughts of his godfather who he'd only met weeks ago. He'd jump at the chance to live with Sirius and leave the Dursleys forever, but a part of him… a part of him wanted the Dursleys to want him, and that part of him could never be helped by his godfather. He knew, deep inside himself, that the part of him that still longed for acceptance from the Dursleys was foolish, and perhaps even the most damaged part of himself. But it was there.
His relatives were simple people, facing a complex situation. They should be good people, but it may be beyond them. Maybe they were just broken, incomplete people that truly didn't have it in them to be decent and caring. But what Michael had been saying is that it didn't matter if acting with kindness was beyond them, the question is was it beyond him.
Harry took a deep breath and walked up to the front door, knocking lightly. Uncle Vernon was likely at work, and Dudley was probably out enjoying the day, but Aunt Petunia was probably home. Sure enough, only a few moments later her narrow face peered out from the open door.
"The roses need attention," she said by way of a greeting. Harry looked her in the eyes, an unnatural calmness filling him, and in that moment he didn't feel hate, or resentment. He felt pity, and empathy. He gave a gentle smile that wasn't so much meant for her as it was a reflection of the inner calm he was experiencing for the first time in this house.
"Yes, Aunt Petunia," he said softly, starting around the side of the house at a leisurely pace to the garden shed.
His Aunt watched him leave, shocked into silence. It wasn't that he had smiled, it was… everything about his demeanor was different. It was calm, and mature, and different. If she was honest, it was a bit terrifying, and she began to worry that maybe her nephew had snapped and was so calm because he had already plotted some kind of horrible unnaturalness to inflict on her family.
"Would I be able to come in and put his things in his room?" Michael asked from a few feet away. The question startled her, as she hadn't rightly seen him there at all.
"Yes… Yes of course." Petunia stepped to the side and watched silently as the extremely normal looking dentist walked past her. "There's no charge for the dental work? As we discussed?"
"No charge," Michael called back over his shoulder as he started to climb the stairs. Setting the trunk and other items down in front of the closed door to the bedroom, Michael noticed the pet flap on it for the first time. He hadn't given the room much of an inspection last time he was here, anxious as he had been to get out of the presence of the sour woman downstairs, but setting the items down to open the door had put his face right in front of it, and this more than anything Harry had told him made him understand what it was that Harry had to endure.
A few moments later Michael returned to the main floor, Harry's things stowed in his room, and he turned to the severe woman with the tight expression on her face.
"I'll be off now," he said with a forced politeness. "Harry has our number should you need to contact us."
With a nod of his head, Michael walked out the front door and got in his car. He'd done what he could, and hopefully it was enough.
Harry wiped the sweat off his forehead, sure that he'd have an unacceptable amount of dirt on his face by the time he went back into the house. His Aunt would probably let him have a shower though, she usually did after he worked in the garden. Standing up with a groan, Harry grabbed the trowel and put it away in the shed, closing his eyes to enjoy a few more moments of the late afternoon sun on his face. He took a deep breath, and had to admit that while he wasn't the natural sort of green thumb that Neville was, there certainly was a kind of satisfaction in the smell of the plants around him, and the feeling of working with his hands in the dirt. He felt peaceful in that moment, and that feeling was quite foreign for him here at Privet Drive.
Taking his dirty trainers off at the front door, Harry walked back into the house and heard Aunt Petunia in the kitchen. He walked over but stopped short of entering the room, knowing that she would be very cross with him for coming into the kitchen covered in so much dirt.
"The garden is finished," Harry said simply. "Can I take a shower?"
His Aunt turned and looked at him, her expression sour as she took in his filthy visage.
"Yes, make it quick. Vernon will be home soon."
Harry turned to leave, but something that had been on his mind while he was gardening wouldn't go away, and so after only a few seconds of hesitation her turned back. His Aunt had already gone back to preparing dinner, apparently satisfied with her dismissal of the boy.
"Aunt Petunia…" Harry ventured. Her head snapped back towards him in surprise that he was still there. "I wanted to say… I'm sorry for what happened last summer with Aunt Marge." Petunia's face turned even more sour at the mention of the incident but she appeared lost for words at the unexpected apology. Harry continued. "The things she was saying about… about my mother… your sister… they were wrong. She shouldn't have been saying them. But I lost control, and the three of you had to experience a bit of my… uniqueness, which I know you don't enjoy. And I'm sure that the people who came along after to fix the situation were, um, not the sort you'd like around the house. So I wanted to say that I'm sorry for disturbing your house like that."
Harry watched her for several moments, unsure if she'd respond, but she appeared to be mute. From her expression, Harry did not imagine it was because she was too overcome with gratitude for his apology to speak, but rather that she couldn't decide which barb she wanted to say first in response. Her face was a mixture of fury and indignation. But after several seconds, when no words appeared to be forthcoming, Harrying nodded once and turned, leaving to go wash up.
That had felt… good, Harry decided. Not because it seemed to improve his relationship with his Aunt, and not even because his Aunt deserved the politeness he's just shown her, but because it felt more like the person that he wanted to be. It felt like he was being more himself by apologizing, and that was a feeling that was somewhat new to him. He hadn't had many opportunities to be himself in his life, and from now on he was going to value them.
Hermione sat at her desk and stared at the copy of her Charms book from last year. She'd already completed her summer homework, and truthfully there was nothing left for her to study. But… Harry wasn't here, and so to fill that nervous energy she always had in abundance, she was studying things she had already studied. In reality, she had been looking at the same page for at least the last 15 minutes, wondering to herself when Harry would contact her.
She glanced at the clock and did some quick mental calculations. Based on when her father had left, and how long it took to get to Surrey… Harry would definitely be home by now. Why hadn't he contacted her yet? Had something gone wrong with his relatives? She could feel the knots inside herself begin to chafe against her mood even further, and felt frustrated with herself. This sort of anxiety is part of the reason that she had wanted what they had with each other, but now her anxiety was about him, and how could she deal with that?
She shook her head, frustrated, and took several calming breaths.
"You aren't that pathetic," she said to herself is a low voice. "Weeks ago, you would have endured a feeling like this for such a short time. It wouldn't be consuming you."
Yes, that was true. But then, weeks ago she hadn't really known what it was like to experience that release, that companionship, that… intimacy. Now that she had tasted it, her heart yearned for it that much more, and it was a kind of stress that she didn't have experience dealing with. She perked up at that line of thinking.
I may not have experience with this kind of stress, but… Hermione glanced at her door. Mum probably does.
Hermione hesitated only a moment before getting to her feet and leaving her room. Her mother was in the living room, reading a book, and the familiarity of the sight made her heart warm with comfort, and for a moment her own troubled thoughts waned.
"Mum?" she called out softly, drawing the attention of the older woman. She wasn't sure what her face looked like, but the look her mother gave her after seeing it told her that most of what she was feeling must be there. "How do you… deal with it? Being apart after… after knowing what it's like?"
Elizabeth gave a sigh, but it didn't seem to be one of suffering or annoyance.
"I thought you might last a bit longer," Elizabeth said with a chagrined look. "Come and sit." She indicated the space next to her on the couch, and Hermione promptly sat down. "What is it that you're feeling?"
Hermione frowned for a moment and furrowed her brows.
"Erm, I'm not exactly sure." She sat for a few moment, examining her emotions. "I think… longing? Loss?"
"Not worry? Concern?" Elizabeth looked at her daughter intently. Hermione thought for a moment over the thoughts that had run through her mind earlier.
"No, not… not truly." She was quiet for a few moments, but Elizabeth seemed content to let her find her words. "I do worry for him, but that's not what I'm feeling. It's more like…" She paused again, searching for words once more. "Like I've forgotten how to be separate from him after the last week." Hermione's eye's flickered to her mother's face and then she looked down, shame washing through her. "I've always been so independent, it's… it's concerning to me. How could an experience so wonderful as all of this turn me into something so pathetic?" She nearly spat the last few words. "I wanted this, I still want it, but I don't know how to be myself and have this in my life too."
"Oh, Hermione," Elizabeth said softly. "You still are independent." Hermione glanced up at her mother dubiously. "And strong too."
They both fell silent. Hermione knew that her mother had more to say, but seemed to struggle for a short while on how to put it.
"How did it feel," Elizabeth finally continued, "the first time you did magic?"
Hermione blinked at the question.
"Amazing," she said. "Like… like everything about my life had suddenly clicked into place."
"That's about what I thought," Elizabeth agreed with a nod. "And if you had to go back to being without magic for a few weeks, how would you feel?"
"I do that every summer," Hermione said with a look of confusion. "It can be annoying, but it's not that bad."
"No," Elizabeth said with a shake of her head. "Not a few weeks where you weren't allowed to do magic, a few weeks without magic. You can't even feel it, it's just… gone."
Hermione's eyes widened as she realized what her mother was getting at. That would be… "Awful," Hermione said in a scratchy voice. "Incomplete."
"Exactly," Elizabeth said with a nod. "To me, well…" Elizabeth reached up and her fingers traced the new collar she was wearing. "Your father is my magic."
Hermione thought that she understood somewhat.
"Is that what it's like?" she asked her mother with some trepidation. "To… have someone?"
"Sometimes," Elizabeth said, giving her daughter a kind smile. "But not forever. You find a new normal."
Hermione wasn't sure what to think. She didn't like the way she was feeling right now, and at its core, her feelings were rooted in a concern about whether she was still the same person she had been before.
"I'm… going for a walk," Hermione told her mother. Elizabeth looked at her daughter searchingly for a few moments before nodding.
"Be back in time for dinner," Elizabeth told her.
Hermione walked out of the front door and her feet began to carry her along the pavement automatically, tracing paths that she used to take every day. Her mind was turning everything over and over, but it found no resolution to the questions that occupied her thoughts. Those thoughts were abruptly broken however as some fingers snapped in front of her face. She startled back and looked over, seeing someone that she hadn't talked to in years.
"Evelyn?" Hermione asked in surprise.
"You haven't changed at all," Evelyn said with a chuckle. "Still thinking so much that you miss the world around you."
Hermione's cheeks flared. She knew that Evelyn didn't mean it in an unkind way — she had been the closest thing that Hermione had to a friend in school before Hogwarts — but the idea that her behaviors were so predictable even to someone who hadn't seen her in years was discouraging. Hermione finally took in Evelyn's appearance and her eyes widened. She had grown, obviously, but her body had… matured. She looked very different from how she had at 10 years old.
She was still rather thin, but her body had curves in several places it hadn't when they were younger, and the difference was dramatic when compared to the last time Hermione had seen her.
"Sorry," Hermione said, "I just… had something on my mind, and I can't do anything about it. You know that always makes my mind stick on something."
Evelyn nodded, then seemed to inspect Hermione's face for a moment before breaking into a cheshire grin.
"The thing on your mind… it's a boy, isn't it?"
Hermione flushed but also felt some indignation rise within her.
"Not… not exactly. I mean, it's related to a guy, but I was more thinking about myself." Hermione paused and considered. She hadn't spoken to Evelyn in years, but here they were chatting like old friends. Why hadn't she at least spent some time with Evelyn during the summers? "What have you been up to? Still determined to be a dancer?"
"What?" Evelyn looked confused for a moment at the question before her face brightened and she broke out into a laugh. "Oh! I forgot! That's all I talked about back then, isn't it?" Evelyn shook her head. "Nah, no ballet for me I'm afraid. Turns out I'm just no good."
"But, it's not as if anyone is good at it when they first try," Hermione pointed out. "You get better over time."
"Yeah," Evelyn agreed, "but that takes work, and I just didn't enjoy actually doing it enough to put in that much work."
Hermione glanced up and down Evelyn's body quickly seeing that she still had a perfect figure for dance. Petite and lithe, with sharp facial features that would make her recognizable on stage.
"That's a shame," Hermione offered, but Evelyn shook her head again.
"I'm not broken up about it, Hermione. I like the ballet, but I like watching it. I was 10 when I said that's what I wanted to do. Besides…" Evelyn trailed off and smirk crossed her features. "I'm not going to let you change the subject on me like that. Tell me about the guy that finally made Hermione Granger realize she's a girl."
Hermione laughed at the comment. From nearly anyone else, that comment would have stoked her insecurities and self-doubt, but she knew Evelyn, and their shared history seemed to instantly fit right back into place even though it had been a long time.
"Okay, okay," Hermione said, holding her hands up in surrender. "I was walking to the park. Walk with me and I'll tell you."
Evelyn nodded readily, a bright smile on her face, and they started walking together through the quiet neighborhood.
"So is this like a crush situation and you're worried he doesn't like you? Or maybe a guy that's been teasing you? You know, sometimes they do that if they like you, which is insane and stupid if you ask me, but I guess I'm not a guy so I don't really know what goes on in their heads, thank God. But you'd think that an entire gender would have more sense than that. Although, to be fair, only some guys tease and bully you if they like you, so I guess it's not all guys, it's just that it's enough of them to—"
"Evelyn!" Hermione interrupted, laughing loudly at her old friend's ranting. "Do you want to hear the juicy details or complain about how boys are stupid?"
Evelyn looked at Hermione with concern, as if this represented a serious dilemma, before giving a heavy sigh and nodding her assent.
"I guess you can see that I haven't changed that much either," Evelyn said with a smile. "Alright, go ahead."
"Okay," Hermione said with a giggle. When was the last time she giggled? "It's not a crush exactly. We're… together, I suppose."
"What?" Evelyn asked breathlessly. "You mean like… you're not just crushing but actually with someone!?" Evelyn looked genuinely shocked, which annoyed Hermione slightly, but was also understandable. Hermione had always shunned any discussion of boys, romance, or any related topics when they'd been younger. Deep down, though she'd never said it out loud, her rejection of the topic back then had been rooted in her own self-doubt and concern that she genuinely wouldn't ever find someone that wanted her in that way.
"Yes," Hermione replied with a nod. "Exactly that."
"Then…" Evelyn seemed to be terribly confused. "Then what's the problem? Has he… not been treating you well? Is he mean to you?"
Hermione smiled. Yes he is… in the very best way.
"That's not the problem," Hermione said with a shake of her head. "It's that, we only got together a week ago, and everything is… new, and uncertain, and undefined. But he had to leave to spend the rest of the summer with his relatives, and now I'm feeling…" Hermione paused to try and find the right words, but Evelyn stayed silent and waited, seeming to understand that this wasn't a moment for one of her interjections. "I'm feeling lonely of course, but it's more. It's like… like I'm not quite sure if I know how to be myself now that he's gone, which feels kinda pathetic."
"Bloody fucking Christ!" Evelyn exclaimed loudly. Hermione's head snapped over to her friend, shocked at her friend's language. Evelyn hadn't spoken that way when they were 10, which was just another reminder for Hermione how many years it had been. "You're in the fucking deep end! I never thought I'd see the day, but we all grow up I guess."
"Well thanks," Hermione said sarcastically. "Really gives me that boost I'm looking for, knowing that you imagined me as a spinster."
"No," Evelyn said with a laugh, her cheer only growing at the disgruntled look on Hermione's face. "It's not that, I just thought I'd find it before you did."
"What?" Hermione's brows furrowed. "You mean you don't have a guy…"
"Not that I feel like that about!" Evelyn said pointedly. "Goodness Hermione, did you hear the words you just said? You're head-over-heels."
Hermione felt her face flush but found that she didn't know what to say. Fortunately, Evelyn was the kind of friend that didn't always need you to be speaking.
"Look," Evelyn started seriously, her voice settling down from the exuberance she'd just been exhibiting. "I can tell you don't want to go into specifics by the way you phrased things. You haven't changed that much. But if it's any help, you haven't changed that much." Evelyn stopped walking and folded her arms over her chest, staring at Hermione intently. Hermione stopped as well and turned to face the girl that had been the only one willing to talk to the quiet, mousy, know-it-all. "I had already mentioned it multiple times, you're still very uniquely… Hermione. I'm not sure what exactly it is that's on your mind, but you definitely haven't forgotten how to be you."
Hermione felt her eyes water as the girl's words struck something deep inside her. A memory floated up, something she hadn't thought about in years, of a time when Hermione had been thinking that maybe she should just stop trying so hard in school, stop studying, stop learning so much, so that the other kids wouldn't tease and bully her constantly. "Why would you do that?" Evelyn had asked her. "What's the point in friends if you have to be lame for them?" Hermione could feel the tears start to roll down her cheeks and smiled at the now startled looking Evelyn.
"Oh, uh, sorry," Evelyn said uncomfortably. "Probably put my foot in my mouth like usual. I never understood why you liked having someone dumb like me as a friend before and—"
"Shut the fuck up," Hermione said in a scratchy voice, using severe language at someone else for the very first time in her life. The shock of Hermione's words made Evelyn freeze and her eyes widen. "You're the best friend I ever had, and I'm so sorry I didn't keep in touch." Hermione lunged forward and wrapped the wiry girl up in a hug. Evelyn got over her shock a few moments later and started to hug Hermione back, and before either of them realized it they were both pulling away in a fit of giddy laughter that didn't have a specific cause. They let the laughter pass through them, and as they started to calm down and return to normal breathing, Evelyn gave Hermione a wide smile.
"So…" she started, her eyebrows bouncing up and down suggestively. "What's his name?"
Author's Note: It has been… a while. When I started writing on this account, I kept quite a regular schedule. That actually… it made me quite happy. I had never been able to keep such a schedule, but I actually did it for far longer than I thought I could. Then, of course, I hit writers block. In truth, there were several things that conspired against this story.
Opening any kind of avenue for donations was a mistake. A very large mistake. I thought it might guilt me into being more consistent, pushing through my writers block. Instead, it made it even harder for me to write. As I had said before, I don't need the money, I've never needed the money. I make quite a lot of money in my day job (compared to most people's circumstances). It was always about the expectations that it placed on me. I thought those expectations would be a positive, when in fact they ended up being a negative.
I honestly should have anticipated that to some extent. I have General Anxiety Disorder, which can at times make everyday tasks somewhat overwhelming for me, and make me try VERY hard to avoid anything that isn't easy for me to do. Most of the time I can manage it quite well, but the issue with asking/allowing donations actually ended up feeding into my anxiety disorder, and it got to a place where I would have mild panic attacks when I tried to write.
When you have an anxiety disorder, it is all about managing triggers. I unwittingly turned everything that I was doing into an anxiety trigger. Getting on the Discord server, opening the story to write, setting deadlines for specific chapters of specific stories… I should have known better, I guess, but this anxiety disorder of mine is something I hadn't had to deal with for long enough when I started writing this story that I knew how to manage it.
As some of you who joined the Discord knew from back when I was posting regularly, I had a partner. We have since been married, which is of course joyous and wonderful. :) But all of this is to say that there has been a lot on my plate and on my mind over the last several years. I am sorry that it has been so long, and I am especially sorry to those who feel as if I broke a promise that I had made to them. A promise that they sent me donations for, money that I didn't even need, or frankly want.
This story is very dear to me. I know it is for some of you as well. As I've said multiple times, I don't plan to leave this story unfinished. Any kind of lull is a pause, or a block, but not the end. I hope that your loved ones are safe, and that we all have better times ahead of us.
On a more upbeat note, the donated money that I was unable to refund I am planning on returning back to the fan community. I want to commission cover art for this and my other stories, and I think that paying a talented and aspiring artist for their effort and work is maybe one of the better things I could do in the circumstances. If you are interested, please join my Discord server listed below.
The way this will work is as follows: anyone who is interested in doing the commission for this and my other stories can send me any sample of their own art so I can see what your style and skill level are. I will select five people that I would like to see a cover art concept from. All five people will be paid a flat $100 for this cover concept, regardless of whether their cover is chosen. I do not want anyone to do unpaid work as part of this. The covers themselves cannot be explicit, though they can be slightly suggestive if that is your concept.
The selected concept will be developed into a full cover art, with the understanding that the same artist is willing to fill similar cover art commissions for my other stories. The price paid for the final cover art will include a negotiated fee according to what the artist believes their time is worth, with the additional fee for the final cover being no less than $200. It is extremely important to me that the artist selected is willing to take future commissions for other covers, as I really like the idea of the cover art for my stories having a consistent artistic style. Each of those covers will be separate commissions with separate payments.
I am also considering doing a live AMA on my Discord server at some point in the near future. Joining the invite below is the best way to participate in that as well if you are interested.
You are all amazing, and I have been blessed every time I have opened my reviews, or had a chat with readers on my Discord. I write for myself, but I publish it because of all of you. Please know that all of you matter to me. Not for the validation, but in the hope that I can for a brief moment enrich your life. :)
My Discord can be joined with this link:
Invite Code: TQ25x5u