mhalachai | FIC: Inevitable: 34: Too Many Questions

Arg. It's always the last bit of the chapter that's the hardest to write.

Inevitable Thirty-four: Too Many Questions is up!

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Inevitable Thirty-four: Too Many Questions
by Mhalachai
Note: Happy birthday,

emeraldswan! When I heard it was your birthday, I decided that another instalment of Inevitable was in order to celebrate :) If you are interested in a timeline of this story (i.e. what chapters happen on what days), please click here to visit my live journal entry on the topic.

~~~~~~~

Jean-Claude stared at me. "What did you say, ma petite?"

"Why is this so hard to understand?" I asked. "I told you that someone needs to take Harry back to England, and that someone may as well be me."

Jean-Claude took a step back. "You do not know what you are saying," he said in his oh-so-reasonable voice, the one that usually made me want to scream.

"Why is this just a big deal?" I demanded. I looked across my bedroom at Micah, perched on the bed. He shook his head. He didn't know what had set Jean-Claude off any more than I did.

"Is it because of what happened tonight, with the ghouls?" Nathaniel asked, lying on his stomach on the bed beside Micah.

"No, that's not it," I said immediately. "I thought you said Harry did well with that, Jean-Claude."

"I did," Jean-Claude said patiently. "But what you are asking has nothing to do with Harry. It has to do with you, ma petite."

I didn't often feel out of my depth with Jean-Claude, but this was one of those times. I really didn't understand what he was talking about. "Would you please cut the crap and explain this to me?"

"Fine." Jean-Claude drew in an unnecessary breath. "You must understand, ma petite, that you, my human servant, cannot just wander into another vampire's city without introduction."

"But I'm not going as your human servant, I'll be going as me." My hands were on my hips as I faced Jean-Claude. I hated vampire politics, and this was starting to sound like more of the same.

"It does not matter," Jean-Claude continued. "Do you remember what happened in Tennessee, with Colin?"

Colin had been the Master of the City in a tiny Tennessee town. The town, where Richard had done the research for his thesis on trolls, had also been home to a werewolf pack. I'd had to go bail Richard out of jail on a trumped-up rape charge, and after a good deal of excitement, ended up killing Colin's human servant. He had died because of it.

"I didn't mean to kill him, going in," I pointed out.

Jean-Claude shook his head. "Maybe, if I had months to arrange it, I could guarantee your safe passage to London. The new Master is not, how do you say, a fan of mine."

I narrowed my eyes. Jean-Claude's grasp of the English language was better than that. Either he was trying to deflect me, or this was upsetting him more than he wanted me to know.

"It does not even make sense to me, why you wish to be the one to return Harry to England," Jean-Claude continued. "You have never left this country before."

"What does that matter?" I asked defensively. "Harry can't just fly back on his own, what if something happens? It's going to be a day or two after the full moon. Besides, if those Death Eater freaks try anything, he may need some help." I paused, looking closer at Jean-Claude. "Is there something you're not telling me about London?"

Jean-Claude fell silent. I paced the room, trying to walk off some of the nervous energy still inside me after the battle with the ghouls earlier that night. The near-miss hadn't sunk in quite yet. My brain was still trying to process why ghouls had attacked two healthy humans. They didn't do that unless something was controlling them, and I didn't know of anything in town that could order ghouls around.

"What aren't you telling Anita?" Micah asked.

The look that Jean-Claude gave Micah wasn't entirely friendly. "You will recall, ma petite, that I told you the Vampire Council once killed necromancers on sight?"

"Yes," I said. "But the Council is in France, right? Not England."

"But the sentiment remains, especially among the older vampires," Jean-Claude said. "Christoff is one such vampire."

"But... he wouldn't kill me. Right?" I said. The blank expression on Jean-Claude's face chilled me more than any words would have. He didn't want me to know what he was thinking.

"I do not know." Jean-Claude crossed the room to stand in front of me, so close that the cloth of his shirt brushed against my sleeve. I stared at his chest until he cupped my face in his hands and raised my head. The look in his blue eyes was so haunted, so despairing, that I felt a lump form in my throat. "But I will not risk any harm coming to you, ma petite. Not for anything."

He kissed me, lips soft as feathers against mine. As his arms went around my shoulders, I felt warmth at my back. Nathaniel pressed against me, burying his face in the crook of my shoulder, his breath hot against my skin.

Jean-Claude pulled back from the gentle kiss, but still held me close. Slowly, I let myself relax a little, let those feelings I'd been holding inside of me come out in a sigh. Even if I hadn't been so shaky, I'd still have stayed in their arms like this as long as I could.

"What if Harry would be in danger, even if Anita wasn't with him?" Nathaniel asked softly, his voice vibrating against my shoulder.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

Nathaniel took his hands off my waist and backed away from me. He met my glare with one of his own, but I could see how much it was costing him. "Harry's Damian's grandson, he's under your protection, Anita. What if the Master in London gets upset that Harry didn't have permission to go through London? If he's alone, he might be in trouble."

"I can't let that happen!" I exclaimed, turning back to Jean-Claude. "I promised Harry that I would protect him, if this is a possibility--"

Jean-Claude shushed me. Surprisingly, at least to me, I let him. "It is unlikely, ma petite, for this to happen." He looked down at me for a long moment. "However, if this is what you wish, to take Harry to England at the end of the month, I will do what I can to help you." Reluctantly, Jean-Claude gave me one final kiss, then stepped away. "I have work to do," he said. "I will begin negotiations, but I will not agree to anything until after I have spoken with you. I should have some answers in a few days."

"Thank you," I said. I wanted to say more, that I loved him and that him telling me that he would help me ensure Harry's safety as much as we could meant more to me than any gift of jewels or flowers, but it was too much, and the words stuck in my throat

I noticed that the top button in his shirt was undone, and it reminded me of how I had called him so frantically, earlier that night.

"Thanks for coming, you know, to the graveyard," I said a bit awkwardly.

Jean-Claude gave me a solemn look. "You know I will come whenever, or wherever, you call me," he said.

"I know, but I will want to say thank you for that, too," I told him, blushing a little.

He smiled wryly as he walked out of the room, before I remembered that I had wanted to ask him why Asher had vanished so suddenly tonight. I guess I'd have to figure it out another time.

Micah rose to his feet and walked over to me, stopping just out of reach. "Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked.

I wrapped my arms around myself and nodded, although I was feeling far from certain. "It's just a trip across an ocean to a country I've never been to. Should be fun."

"It's a long plane ride," Micah said.

"I know that!" I snapped. With jerky motions, I undid my belt and slid it out of the loops on my jeans, to remove my shoulder holster. I draped the holster on the top of the dresser, then slipped the clip out of my gun. I still had half a clip of bullets left.

Looking at that half-empty clip, a shiver ran over my whole body. These bullets wouldn't have been enough against those ghouls tonight. Jean-Claude and Asher wouldn't have made it in time. If Harry hadn't been there, hadn't been able to make fire out of thin air with his magic, I'd be dead.

There had been a lot of moments in the last couple of weeks where if Harry hadn't been there to save me, I'd be dead. With Bellatrix, twice, then with the Aurors in the police station, then tonight. I'd always prided myself on being self-sufficient, able to take care of myself, no matter the danger. How was it that this boy came along and threw all of that into disarray?

Micah wrapped his arms around me, hugging me from behind, as I shivered. Then Nathaniel joined him. They were both so warm, but there was a tiny part of me that I didn't think would ever get warm. I'd forgotten that there were things that I couldn't protect myself from, and that scared me.

The shaking gradually abated, even if the fears didn't. It took me a while, but I managed to make myself slide gently out of their grasp. Nathaniel looked so lost, uncertain, that I held out my hand to him.

He took my hand and rubbed it against his cheek, so relieved. "I'm sorry I brought that thing about Harry up with Jean-Claude, before I mentioned it to you," he said.

"It's okay," I said. I couldn't get mad at him, not when he looked so happy that I wasn't angry. "Why did you think of that, anyway?"

He looked down and didn't respond.

This had to be about the thing that Harry wasn't telling me, I realized. It was on the tip of my tongue to order Nathaniel to tell me what was going on, but I swallowed the words I wanted to say, and instead said, "Are you going to be okay?"

Nathaniel nodded. "Maybe I should go see how Harry's doing?" he asked.

I blinked, trying to not let the hurt show. Nathaniel was supposed to be seeing how I was doing, not Harry. I was his Nimir-Ra, and Harry...

Harry was Nathaniel's friend, and connected to Nathaniel through Damian's family link, I told myself sternly. Harry had been through a lot tonight and he might want a friend to make sure he was fine. "That's a good idea," I told Nathaniel.

Nathaniel gave my hand a final squeeze. "I'll be back in a little bit," he promised.

I made myself smile as he left the room. As soon as he closed the door, the smile dropped.

Micah looked at me. "What?" I snapped at him, my irritation at myself seeping into my voice.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

He pressed his lips together, an uncharacteristic display of nervousness. "That's a very good question." He raked his fingers through his hair in frustration and turned away from me. "Is there ever anything I can do?"

"Micah..." I put my hand on his shoulder. The muscles under my fingers were rock-hard with tension. "Micah, what are you talking about?"

He dropped his arms and looked over his shoulder at me. His eyes were almost alien, and I didn't have any idea how to help him. "I'm never the one to save you," he finally said. "I've never been the one to save you."

I didn't know what to say. My brain wasn't sure how to process this, but my beast did. I hugged Micah, as hard as I could. Micah returned the embrace, holding his strength in check to avoid crushing my ribs. My beast rumbled inside of me, reaching out to Micah. She offered the comfort that I wasn't sure how to give. Somehow, in the middle of it all, my tension began to ease along with Micah's, as our beasts brushed past each other in the shells of our bodies.

Micah's hands were stoking down my back, not letting me go. It took me two tries to speak. "That's the first time we've done that since what happened in the woods."

"Yeah, it is." Micah licked my neck, then he gently grasped my throat in his teeth. Not hard enough to leave a mark, but enough to make me tremble.

I ran my fingers through his hair, resting against him. I didn't want to move, to destroy this moment, but there was something I needed to say. "You don't have to save me," I whispered.

Micah sighed. "You don't understand," he said sadly.

Part of me wanted to get angry, or annoyed, but my beast was still too lazy to let me get all worked up. "Is this a guy thing?"

"No." Micah kissed along my neck, turning my thoughts to the ardeur in spite of myself. "I told myself that I wasn't going to get like this, but sometimes I just want to keep you safe. But I never can."

I closed my eyes and rested my head on Micah's shoulder. "I keep myself safe, you know that," I said, even as my thoughts from a few minutes before came back to me. What I had said wasn't true, and I knew it.

"But what happens when that's not enough?" Micah whispered. "What happens then?"

I didn't have an answer for him.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry sat on the back steps, staring up at the stars. The air was still and sweltering, and even the glass of ice water at his side wasn't helping him to cool down.

He looked down at the wand he held in his fingers. One flick of his wand, and he could make a little bubble of cool air around himself. Only two words. Who would know?

It's just the opposite of the words I used on the ghoul, he thought. Cool breeze instead of fire. The image of the burning ghoul came back to Harry, and he clenched his wand tight. He hadn't wanted to burn the ghoul, he really hadn't, but when it leaped at him and Anita, he hadn't thought. He just acted.

Just like with Quirrell. He hadn't ever really thought about Professor Quirrell's death. He had known he had killed Quirrell, or rather that his actions killed the man, as being possessed by Voldemort made Harry's touch deadly to Quirrell. The death didn't bother him; at the time he didn't have a choice. Voldemort couldn't get his hands on the Philosopher's Stone, no matter what.

Is this how Voldemort started? By thinking that one death was excusable? Harry wondered. He kills everything in his way now, maybe it started like the thing with the ghouls. One death, three deaths, what's the difference in the end?

If Harry didn't really care about Quirrell's death, would he care about the next one? Like Bellatrix? he realized, going cold. She was dead because of Harry, and he didn't really care about her death, either. If she was dead, then Sirius's death was avenged, and Anita was alive, and Bellatrix would never threaten anyone Harry cared about, ever again.

Does Voldemort think the same way about Dumbledore and me? Harry felt his insides churn. Maybe he does. Maybe we're just the same.

Sickened, Harry wrote his name in flaming letters in the air. Harry James Potter sat midair, taunting him. The 16-year-old Tom Riddle in Voldemort's old diary, the one that had possessed Ginny Weasley in her first year at Hogwarts, he had done the same thing, before showing Harry how the letters of his name changed to read, I am Lord Voldemort.

Harry stared at the letters of his name. Instead of trying to rearrange his name, Harry found himself looking at his middle name. James.

What would my dad have done if he ever found out that mum's dad was a vampire? Harry thought. Would he have done what Hermione said? Hated her because of it?

Since Harry had seen Snape's memory of being taunted by James and Sirius in the pensive, in his fifth year, he had often tried to reconcile that image of his father with what everyone said about James. Hagrid had said he was a good man, and Remus said the same thing. Dumbledore said so, too. None of them really had any reason to lie about it. Was I that bad when I was fifteen? I don't think so. But people change, I guess. Harry desperately wanted to believe that his dad would have dismissed all that vampire kid stuff as nonsense, when it came to Lily. Maybe he would have. Could he just have stopped loving her because of her parentage?

So wrapped up in his thoughts, Harry didn't hear Nathaniel until the wereleopard sat beside him on the step. "Neat trick," Nathaniel said, pointing at the flaming letters.

"Yeah." Harry blinked and looked away from the letters, now almost burned into his retinas. "I was just... I don't know."

Nathaniel accepted that without comment, as he always did. As Harry waved the letters into nothingness, Nathaniel said, "Anita is working out how to get you back to England."

"If I'm a werewolf, you mean?" Harry asked, turning to look at Nathaniel. The other man met Harry's gaze steadily, which was a bit strange for the submissive man.

"No." Nathaniel leaned against the railing. "She thinks you might get into trouble if you go back on your own, so she asked Jean-Claude to get permission to go with you, from the Master of London."

"I don't need her to come with me," Harry protested. "I can get back on my own."

Nathaniel looked up at the sky. "She's still going to do it, in case you need help. She thinks that you might have Death Eaters after you, if you go back alone. So even thought it might be dangerous, and even though she hates to fly, she's still going."

"Why would it be dangerous?" Harry asked.

"Because putting the human servant in another Master's territory is always dangerous," Nathaniel said. There was the beginning of a fine edge of anger in Nathaniel's voice, that Harry had never heard before. "She knows that, but even if it's dangerous, she'll still go to protect you."

"She doesn't need to protect me!" Harry said sharply. "She shouldn't be putting herself in a situation like that!"

Nathaniel stood. "Especially if your death solves everything?" he said. Harry whipped his head around to stare at his friend. "You should tell her," Nathaniel said, walking towards the house. "If she's going to put herself in danger, all of us in danger, because of you, then you should tell her everything."

He shut the door behind him, leaving a stunned Harry on the step. Nathaniel had never said anything like that before to Harry.

Harry looked back at the dark space where he had written his name in burning letters. How could he tell Anita that he might have to die, in order to stop Voldemort? Would she listen?

Did he even want her to believe him?

~*~

The next morning they were back in the jeep, driving for the police station again. Harry hoped that this trip to the RPIT headquarters wouldn't end in a duel with Aurors, but just in case, his wand was within easy reach.

"Did you and Nathaniel get into a fight last night?" Anita asked. Harry stiffened, but didn't look at her.

"No."

When it became clear that Harry didn't have anything else to add, Anita said, "Then why was he avoiding you all morning?"

Harry turned around at last. "What are you talking about?" he demanded. "Nathaniel wasn't avoiding me."

"He does the same thing to me when I've pissed him off," Anita said. "He's still around, but he doesn't go out of his way to spend a lot of time with me."

Harry thought frantically. Nathaniel had been there during breakfast, but afterward he had just vanished. In the past few days, Harry and Nathaniel usually cleaned up the kitchen together, but that morning Micah had done it by himself.

"Look, I'm sorry I brought it up," Anita said awkwardly. "It's just, you two seemed to be getting along really great."

Harry closed his eyes. He had thought Nathaniel was busy with something else after breakfast, and didn't have the time to spend hanging around with Harry. This had to be about Harry's refusal to tell Anita about the prophecy. What else could it be?

"Are you thinking of going over to England with me?" Harry asked suddenly. Nathaniel might have misunderstood the dangers to Anita in the trip, that had to be it.

"Did Nathaniel tell you that?" Anita asked, looking rather uncomfortable. "As a matter of fact, yes, I am."

"Why? You don't need to go with me, I'll be fine."

"Why do you always try to do everything yourself?" Anita demanded as she drove the jeep into the police station parking lot. "It's going to be the day after a full moon, and if you are really going to be a werewolf, then you might freak out and put other people in danger, so I'm coming along."

"Is that the reason?" Harry asked indignantly. "Because I might start eating people on the plane?"

Anita turned off the car and yanked her keys out of the ignition. "As a matter of fact, it's not!" She got out of the car and slammed the door, leaving Harry to scramble after her.

He caught up with her halfway across the parking lot. "If that's not it, then what?" he demanded. "Is this because I'm still a kid?" He flung the words at her.

Anita whirled around, her hair flying around her face. "From what you've told me, half the people in your world seem to have it in for you! There is nothing wrong with having someone else around to watch your back!" she exclaimed, her words snapping in anger.

Frustration and anger warred within Harry's chest, and he took a few steps back. "Will you be in danger if you go?" he asked.

Anita shook her head. "This isn't about--"

"Will you?"

Anita put her hands on her hips. "Jean-Claude has everything under control," she said. "Give him a few days, and it'll be all settled."

"That was a yes," Harry said. Why was she intent on doing something so dangerous? "You don't--"

"Shut up," Anita interrupted. "This is how it's going to be. I'm taking you to England and putting you on that damned train to your stupid school, where the devious bastard you call your headmaster swears you'll be safe."

"But the Death Eaters--"

"Why are you so dead set against me coming with you?" Anita demanded. "What the hell is wrong with having a little backup in a dangerous situation?"

"Because they need you here!" Harry shouted. They were drawing some curious looks from passers-by, but Harry didn't care. "What if you get hurt? It'll hurt Damian and Nathaniel, and Jean-Claude and Richard and everybody!"

Anita closed the distance between them, so close that Harry could make out the tiny flecks of light brown, almost bronze, in her dark eyes. "This is not about them, and you know it," she said sharply. "If you don't want me to go with you, just fucking say so and don't go hiding behind them."

He couldn't keep it in any longer. "And what if I'm supposed to die anyway?" Harry asked. His fists were clenched at his sides so tightly that he felt like he might break the bones in his hands. "Would that change your mind?

Anita's eyes grew wide. "I thought we'd been over--"

"What if I was wrong?" Harry persisted. His heart was pounding, but he had to ask. He had to know. "What if I have to die for Voldemort to die? Will that change your mind about protecting me?"

"What do you mean?" Anita asked, her anger fading slightly to confusion. "Is this about that prophecy?"

Harry nodded. In spite of the hot day, he felt chilled. "We were talking about it, and Nathaniel-- I mean..."

Anita brushed her hair out of her face. "Stop trying to cover for Nathaniel and just tell me," she demanded.

Harry took a deep breath. He wasn't able to look at Anita, and concentrated very hard on the old car parked about ten yards away. "What if I have to die before Voldemort can die? What if the only way to stop him is for me to be dead?"

Anita didn't say anything. Harry kept staring at the car. She knows now, he thought. What is she going to do? What if she thinks I'm too much of a danger to have around?

When Harry couldn't stand the silence any longer, he said, "Maybe we should go inside."

"Just a second."

Harry closed his eyes. This was it.

"Has anyone told you that you're a real idiot?"

Well, that was not what he was expecting. "What?" he exclaimed, turning around.

He had thought Anita was mad. He was wrong. She was furious. "There is no way in hell that you need to die to kill Voldemort," she said in a cold voice. "Do you understand?"

"But the prophecy--"

"Fuck the prophecy. Fuck everyone who's ever told you that it means anything," Anita said icily. "There is no God-damned way that you need to die so someone else will die too. That's the biggest load of crap I've ever heard."

Harry shook his head so hard he almost dislodged his glasses. "Then what the hell am I going to do, if trying to kill him doesn't work?" he demanded quietly, trying to avoid attracting the attention of any nearby policemen.

"Gee, I don't know, how about finding another way?" Anita said sarcastically. "There have to be other ways, other than slitting your own fucking throat!"

"Voldemort can live without a body, he'd done it before," Harry said.

"You told me, remember?" Anita said. "That first night. There have to be other magical ways to get rid of a disembodied spirit."

"What if I can't find a way to do that?" Harry asked. It was hopeless, he thought, no matter what Anita thought.

He saw the cold expression on her face, and shivered in spite of himself. "Then I find a way," she said.

~*~

"Inferi."

"What?"

"Inferi," Tammy Reynolds repeated. She sat back in her desk chair. "Do you know what those are?" she asked Anita.

"No clue." The necromancer looked at Harry. "You?"

Harry frowned. "We went over them, last year," he said. "They're like zombies, but not the same."

"They are pretty mindless," Tammy supplied. "Mute, with nothing of their personalities left. They're just animated corpses that do what they are told."

"Sounds horrible, but what does that have to do with anything?" Anita asked.

Tammy pushed a folder across the desk. "We did a little digging. Nigel Spencer was married one year after he settled in St. Louis, to a woman named Elaine Jones. She died a couple of years ago."

Anita opened the folder, and swore under her breath. "She was buried at the same cemetery as the ghoul attack last night."

"Yes," Tammy said. "Lt. Storr got a exhumation order late last night. They dug the coffin up as soon as day broke."

"What does that have to do with Inferi?" Harry asked.

Tammy gave him a look. "The coffin was empty."

"More than that," Anita said. She dumped a handful of polariods on Tammy's desk and sorted through them. Harry leaned forward to watch. "Look at this. Something dug its way out of the coffin, look at these marks." She sounded nauseated. Harry didn't blame her. Being stuck under six feet of dirt, in a tiny box...

"In the dirt above the coffin, the backhoe found this," Tammy said, pointing to one of the polaroids. Both Anita and Harry crowded close. There was the image of weird-looking metal amulet, the visible engravings caked with dirt. "It's a medallion, textbook perfect, used for raising an Inferius."

"Did whoever killed Mr. Spencer raise his wife as an Inferius?" Harry asked, careful to pretend that he had no idea of the Death Eater's identity.

"Either that, or he tried to do it himself," Anita said, looking at other photographs. "Do we know what happened to the corpse of Elaine Spencer?"

"No," Tammy said. "All I do know is that Inferi never turn into ghouls."

"But they might be the catalyst to making the ghouls," Anita mused. She shifted around in her chair. "Don't suppose our friends downstairs have anything to say about this?"

It took Harry a moment to realize that Anita was speaking about the two Aurors, still in police custody.

"We're not going to ask them," Tammy said shortly. "Why do you suppose that the ghouls attacked you two in the graveyard? They seldom attack humans, and there have to have been hundreds of people through there in the last year alone."

"That might point to a recent event." Anita shook her head. "I'll go back to our office, see if there is any recent zombie raisings in this graveyard that might mean something."

"We'll keep looking for Mrs. Spencer's body," Tammy said. "At the very least, there's the grave desecration charge to worry about." She shuffled through another pile of paper on her desk. "I've got your reports about last night, and I think that's all I need right now. If I have to call you later, are you around?"

"Sure thing," Anita said as she stood. "I've got to work tonight, but if you need anything, call. I want to figure out about these ghouls as much as you do."

Tammy gathered the pictures back up and shoved the folder to the side of her desk. "I'll talk to you later," she said, getting up and walking toward the back of the office.

Anita turned and headed toward the exit, Harry tagging along after her. "Do you think that Bellatrix did something to raise the ghouls?" he asked as they hit the stairs.

"I have no idea," Anita said, sounding very annoyed. "I've never heard of these Inferi things before, and it's pissing me off."

"Really?" Harry said dryly, unable to help himself. Anita glared at him. "Sorry."

"No, you're not." Anita waved at the policeman at the front desk as she headed around the metal detectors. She waited while Harry signed out in the guest book. "What do you want to do now?"

"I get to choose?"

"Well, not really," Anita conceded as they left the building. "I need to go to the office, and I'm sure Jean-Claude will need to talk to me at some point. Plus, I need to schedule a few shooting lessons for you this week."

"Really?" Harry asked. "With a real gun? Won't that be dangerous?" Anita's gun was the first he had ever seen. He didn't even want to hazard a guess how he'd find one back in England.

"A gun's no more dangerous than the person holding it," Anita said. "As long as that person knows what she or he is doing. It's best to be prepared, right?"

"I guess." Harry glanced at where Anita's jacket hid her shoulder holster. "But what if--"

"Harry," Anita stopped him. "What I said before, about finding another way to kill Voldemort. I meant that. I'm not letting you walk out of here without a fighting chance of surviving the year."

"Why not?"

He expected some answer about him being Damian's grandson, or about how he was probably going to be part of the wolf pack, but Anita surprised him. "You're a good person, Harry. Everyone deserves a fighting chance, and it's about time that you got yours."

Harry really wasn't sure what to make of her answer.

...tbc

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

emeraldswan.livejournal.com

I always get so wrapped up in reading this story that, when I get to the end, I have this moment of wondering why the hell I can't just turn the page and get more. Ya know, like a really good book.

What a wonderful present! (And a fantastic chapter, too!)

Smiles, Emmy

From:

mhalachai was here

FIC: Inevitable: 34: Too Many Questions

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