Every Season – Summer
She was royally pissed.
And, frankly, he couldn’t blame her.
When he had woken up for the first time in over a year at the Manor, he was immediately accosted by his house elf, Fizzy, informing him that he had a visitor waiting outside of his door.
Curious, he allowed the small creature to grant this visitor entrance, but before Fizzy had reached the double doors of his room, she threw the doors open, stomping over to his bed with a gleam in her eye that did not bode well for his person. She was still pyjama-clad, and her hair frizzed around her forehead; the rest of it was done up in a messy ponytail, though her baby hairs hung down and draped the nape of her neck.
Fizzy squeaked in fear and Apparated on the spot, lest she get caught in the red-headed girl’s fit of rage.
He was surprised that she was here. After all, he had told her just the other day that his parents were going to 12 Grimmauld Place to fetch him. He knew she was upset about it when he told her; her mannerisms always gave away the hidden meaning behind words, something that he was taught to hide. So he couldn’t comprehend why she was here, in his bedroom, looking as though she were about to kill him.
She halted once she was in front of his bed, glaring at him with all of the verve and vigour in her slender frame. He opened his mouth to speak, hoping to find out the reason as to why she had disturbed him so early in the morning, but was effectively silenced as her hand found purchase on his cheek, leaving a bright crimson mark as the blood in his face rushed to that particular spot; the now hypersensitive area glowing in the shape of her hand.
It was with that slap that he remembered; an epiphany of sorts.
He forgot to say good-bye. He told her that he was, and like some pig-headed berk, he forgot to say good-bye. In that moment, he felt like a complete asshole. She had done so much for him over the course of the war, not to mention the fact that she had become one of the first true friends he’d had in ages, and he figured that what he had done to her was akin to a slap in the face for all of her efforts the past few months. She was only returning the favour in a more physical sense.
Satisfied with the look of shock on his face, she walked out, returning to her bed back at her new home to spend the rest of the morning wiping her tears away; crying over his sudden revert back to his Hogwarts self.
* * * * * * * *
Their friendship was like summer.
For many, summer represents freedom -- a life with limited restriction, only the simple need to relax and live life to the fullest before submitting to the daily grind with the next change in season. In nature, though, summer can be an amalgamation of different weather patterns. In certain parts of the world, summer brings torrential rains, rains that can flood entire cities and ruin homes; destroying entire lives.
For them, it was a combination of both.
His abrupt departure from her day to day life affected her more than she would like to admit. He was there when there was no one to talk to, no one who would listen to her somewhat philosophical ramblings.
She was back at 12 Grimmauld Place, gazing out the window to see a brutal storm unleash itself on London. She smiled faintly, relishing in the fact that Mother Nature was just as upset as she was.
She pulled her knees up to her chest, resting her chin on top; a familiar position that always seemed to bring comfort and help her sort through her colliding thoughts. She had every right to be upset -- maybe not to the extent that she actually was, but he did tell her that he would say good-bye to her when he went back home with his parents. And maybe she should have let him explain himself to her; give her a truly valid reason to act the way she did that morning. But the more she thought about it, the more that she found that she didn’t really care about his reasons.
Her reasoning was illogical. Like some red, pulsating thing deep within her body that caused her to react the way she did. The strings were still there, sure, but now; now there was something else guiding her thought process when it came to him.
Was it love?
* * * * * * * *
That was two years ago.
Two years ago to the day since that last particular incident. Since she stormed into his room, hell bent on beating the ever-loving shite out of him for leaving without saying good-bye.
He felt the strangest sense of déjà vu, not just because of the setting (his bedroom at the Manor), but because he felt that, again, he really couldn’t blame her for her anger.
But, unlike last time, he was prepared. He was not going to stand by while she either physically or verbally abused him (or sometimes, a combination of both, depending on her mood) in retribution for whatever idiotic thing he had done to earn such treatment.
And so, when she stormed in that morning, she found him not lounging in bed, but seated by the balcony, reading the morning paper as he sipped on a cup of tea.
“You know, I have the feeling that we’ve been in this situation before,” he announced, calming folding his paper and placing it on the table in front of him, never turning to see her look of absolute frustration.
“I can’t help it if you’re prone to do monumentally stupid things,” she huffed, crossing her arms over her pyjama-clad chest.
“What seems to be the problem this time, Ginny? As you know, I am a very busy man with a schedule to keep.” He knew he was playing with fire. He spoke with the cool, indifferent tone of voice that always sent her over the edge. And whether he wanted to admit it or not, his day was that much brighter whenever he sent her anger over the edge – it made her all the more appealing to him.
She snatched the paper off of his breakfast table, flipping at a rather fastidious rate to the gossip section of The Daily Prophet. Satisfied that she had found the appropriate page, she folded it before shoving it in his face, a finger pointed at the girl in the picture. “Her, Draco? Of all of the eligible bachelorettes in the wizarding world, you decided to pick Astoria Greengrass? And as your fiancée, no less?” Ginny screeched the last part, causing Draco to wince.
“Jealous?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.
Ginny quickly took a step back, affronted. “Of Astoria Greengrass? Hm...let me think about that...um, no.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“I’m just saying that you could have picked someone better, is all. You deserve better,” Ginny replied, sounding slightly resigned. “I’m leaving. It was nice chatting with you.”
She Apparated before he had the chance to reply.
* * * * * * * *
She was in love.
Ginny Weasley was arse over teakettle in love. With someone she couldn’t have. Of all the people in the wizarding world to fall so madly in love with, it had to be him. It couldn’t have been Harry, or Dean, or Blaise, or any other guy she had previously been with. No, it had to be him. It had to be Draco sodding Malfoy. And to make matters worse, she had to wake up that morning to the glorious headline in the Prophet announcing his engagement to Daphne Greengrass’s younger sister, Astoria. Fan-bloody-tastic.
So she Apparated to the Manor to confront him, determined to tell him how she felt about him, come hell or high water. But she'd lied; played his comments off as though her heart wasn’t being shattered into neat little fragments. She couldn’t help it – he was her best friend, and she would do anything to see him happy, even if it meant finding his happiness with someone other than her.
And it wasn’t as though her romantic love for him was a recent development. It had been going on strong for two years. Two years to the day. What had started off as some passing summer crush had morphed into a full-scale, dreamy-kind of love for him. It also didn’t help that he came to her for advice on how to woo his of-the-moment flame. So like a good friend (and Gryffindor, to a lesser extent), she complied with his wishes, doing reconnaissance when the occasion called for it, or helping him pick out the perfect set of matching earrings and necklace, all the while praying that one day he would see in her what she saw in him.
* * * * * * * *
Something was wrong.
Not that everything was perfect in his turbulent friendship with Ginny, but she seemed a bit...off when she entered his bedroom that morning. He was used to her disapproving of his choice in women; it was rare, in fact, for her to even agree to the women he introduced to her. This morning, though, there was just something strange in the way she reacted to him choosing Astoria. He supposed he should have told her before he announced it to the world, maybe ask for her advice or thoughts on the situation, but he couldn’t live his married life like that. What husband goes to a female best friend for advice when he has a wife for that?
Not only that, but she normally gave as good as she got. They would often spend hours just going back and forth before their argument disappeared without warning. But when he baited her, she seemed resigned, and if there was one thing Draco Malfoy knew for certain in this world, it was that Ginny Weasley was not a quitter. It was so unlike her to not rise to his bait.
He didn’t think Astoria was the reason either. He found her to be a perfectly reasonable choice for a potential wife –intelligent, well-spoken, beautiful, not to mention a rather tasteful dresser. She was blunt, but not overtly so, and would usually give Draco the what for if he screwed up. It was the longest he'd ever stayed with a girl, and they suited each other well. It only made sense for him to propose.
* * * * * * * *
She awoke the next morning to a raging headache and the insistent pecking of an eagle owl at her bedroom window.
Ginny rolled over and, not realizing her proximity to the edge of her bed, fell over onto the floor in a mass of sheets and pillows.
She let out a whinge, cursing the benevolent beings above for their idea of humour, as she slowly rose to her feet, opening the window to allow the owl entrance.
It perched on her headboard, sticking its leg out for Ginny to grab the letter wedged in its talons.
She opened it and quickly grabbed her wand from the nightstand, setting fire to the short missive. She walked over to the desk in the corner of the room, pulling a blank envelope out of a stack, dumped the ashes of the other letter inside and sealed it. Handing the envelope to the owl, she shooed it out, sending it back to its blond owner.
* * * * * * * *
Draco watched as his eagle owl swooped back into his office, excited to see Ginny’s reply.
He ripped open to envelope only to watch in shock as the ashes of his letter floated to the glossy surface of his desk.
She always had to make things difficult.
* * * * * * * *
After a month or so of trying to contact her in hopes of setting up a meeting with the stubborn witch he called his best friend, he gave up, instead deciding to do things the old fashioned way and just visit her in person.
He arrived at her apartment complex on the north side of Diagon Alley, right before the Business District, just as the sky began to turn a slate grey as storm clouds moved into the area. A flash of lightning in the distance caught his attention and he went inside just as the thunder was able to catch up.
He knocked on the door to Ginny’s apartment several times, praying to the gods that she was home. She opened the door after five minutes, dressed in a pair of torn-at-the-knees denim pants and an oversized tee shirt. “What do you want?”
“I can’t visit my best friend anymore?” He tried, pouting a little. Pouting usually got her every time. She raised an eyebrow in suspicion. Apparently, not this time.
“You’re full of shit, but come on in anyways. Merlin knows how long this visit will take.” She stepped aside to allow him entrance, plopping down on the sofa near her kitchen, stretching her arms over her head languidly.
Draco stepped around the discarded take-out boxes and pints of ice cream, frowning at the sight. Ginny never kept her place in such a bad state. It was always in impeccable condition. He sat down in what looked like a padded chair with a sweatshirt strewn across the back.
“What’s wrong with you lately?” he asked after watching her cross her legs over one another in an effort to become more comfortable.
“Nothing’s wrong with me. Everything’s just wonderful.”
“That’s a load of bullshit, Ginny, and you know it. Just look at your place - I’ve never seen it like this. And you don’t even talk to me anymore. We used to see each other almost every day, and now I’m lucky if I hear something about you from others. None of your co-workers at the Ministry will say anything to me, and anytime I try to contact your family I get no response. Your mum loves me! I can always get her to talk to me, but every time I’ve tried in the past month, she’s never available. Something’s up, Ginny, and I want to know what it is.”
Ginny bit her lower lip, looking down at her hands in her lap. She could feel the tears pooling in her eyes. She didn’t want to cry in front of him, it seemed so stupid when she already cried over him too much before.
Before she knew what was going on, he was kneeling in front of her, lifting her head by her chin.
“I’m sorry, Draco, but I can’t. Please leave.” She shifted out of his grasp, running to her room.
Hearing the door of her bedroom slam, he sighed, getting up off the floor, before walking to her bedroom. He heard her crying on the other side, and pressed his ear to the wooden door.
“I ended the engagement with Astoria.”
He can’t tell her reaction, but leaves anyway, walking out the door to her apartment just in time for the rain to fall.
He pulls the hood of his cloak up over his head, wrapping it around him to prevent his clothes from getting soaked.
He sets off down the street before he hears his name.
“Draco!”
He turns around to see Ginny running toward him at breakneck speed, her clothes clinging to her body, making him notice that she gained a bit of weight, too.
She nearly skids to a halt in front of him, not caring about the fact that it’s raining and that she might get sick; she just has to confirm one thing from him.
“Is it true?”
“Is what true? And what are you doing out here without a cloak! You’re going to get sick.”
“Is what you said about you ending your engagement true? And I could care less about getting sick right now.”
“Yes, it’s true. Now get back inside before I have to carry you there.”
“Hold on; I just need to say something to you.” She paused, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves. “I’m in love with you,” she announced with an unsure smile and a shrug, happy to have finally told him.
He doesn’t say anything for a minute or so, causing her to shift nervously from one foot to the other.
“Well? Aren’t you going to say anything? I just told you that-” She was cut off by his lips crashing down on hers, his arms snaking around her waist, pulling her in for a possessive embrace.
He breaks away, laughing at the dreamy smile gracing her features. “That’s why I broke off the engagement. I’ve been too much of an idiot these past years to see what's been in front of me this entire time.”
She laughs as he lowers he head down for another kiss; a more gentle, caressing, and languid kiss then the one previous. She looks up before she’s consumed by the sensations, smiling against his lips. It is no longer raining -- a ray of sunlight has broken through.
She was royally pissed.
And, frankly, he couldn’t blame her.
When he had woken up for the first time in over a year at the Manor, he was immediately accosted by his house elf, Fizzy, informing him that he had a visitor waiting outside of his door.
Curious, he allowed the small creature to grant this visitor entrance, but before Fizzy had reached the double doors of his room, she threw the doors open, stomping over to his bed with a gleam in her eye that did not bode well for his person. She was still pyjama-clad, and her hair frizzed around her forehead; the rest of it was done up in a messy ponytail, though her baby hairs hung down and draped the nape of her neck.
Fizzy squeaked in fear and Apparated on the spot, lest she get caught in the red-headed girl’s fit of rage.
He was surprised that she was here. After all, he had told her just the other day that his parents were going to 12 Grimmauld Place to fetch him. He knew she was upset about it when he told her; her mannerisms always gave away the hidden meaning behind words, something that he was taught to hide. So he couldn’t comprehend why she was here, in his bedroom, looking as though she were about to kill him.
She halted once she was in front of his bed, glaring at him with all of the verve and vigour in her slender frame. He opened his mouth to speak, hoping to find out the reason as to why she had disturbed him so early in the morning, but was effectively silenced as her hand found purchase on his cheek, leaving a bright crimson mark as the blood in his face rushed to that particular spot; the now hypersensitive area glowing in the shape of her hand.
It was with that slap that he remembered; an epiphany of sorts.
He forgot to say good-bye. He told her that he was, and like some pig-headed berk, he forgot to say good-bye. In that moment, he felt like a complete asshole. She had done so much for him over the course of the war, not to mention the fact that she had become one of the first true friends he’d had in ages, and he figured that what he had done to her was akin to a slap in the face for all of her efforts the past few months. She was only returning the favour in a more physical sense.
Satisfied with the look of shock on his face, she walked out, returning to her bed back at her new home to spend the rest of the morning wiping her tears away; crying over his sudden revert back to his Hogwarts self.
* * * * * * * *
Their friendship was like summer.
For many, summer represents freedom -- a life with limited restriction, only the simple need to relax and live life to the fullest before submitting to the daily grind with the next change in season. In nature, though, summer can be an amalgamation of different weather patterns. In certain parts of the world, summer brings torrential rains, rains that can flood entire cities and ruin homes; destroying entire lives.
For them, it was a combination of both.
His abrupt departure from her day to day life affected her more than she would like to admit. He was there when there was no one to talk to, no one who would listen to her somewhat philosophical ramblings.
She was back at 12 Grimmauld Place, gazing out the window to see a brutal storm unleash itself on London. She smiled faintly, relishing in the fact that Mother Nature was just as upset as she was.
She pulled her knees up to her chest, resting her chin on top; a familiar position that always seemed to bring comfort and help her sort through her colliding thoughts. She had every right to be upset -- maybe not to the extent that she actually was, but he did tell her that he would say good-bye to her when he went back home with his parents. And maybe she should have let him explain himself to her; give her a truly valid reason to act the way she did that morning. But the more she thought about it, the more that she found that she didn’t really care about his reasons.
Her reasoning was illogical. Like some red, pulsating thing deep within her body that caused her to react the way she did. The strings were still there, sure, but now; now there was something else guiding her thought process when it came to him.
Was it love?
* * * * * * * *
That was two years ago.
Two years ago to the day since that last particular incident. Since she stormed into his room, hell bent on beating the ever-loving shite out of him for leaving without saying good-bye.
He felt the strangest sense of déjà vu, not just because of the setting (his bedroom at the Manor), but because he felt that, again, he really couldn’t blame her for her anger.
But, unlike last time, he was prepared. He was not going to stand by while she either physically or verbally abused him (or sometimes, a combination of both, depending on her mood) in retribution for whatever idiotic thing he had done to earn such treatment.
And so, when she stormed in that morning, she found him not lounging in bed, but seated by the balcony, reading the morning paper as he sipped on a cup of tea.
“You know, I have the feeling that we’ve been in this situation before,” he announced, calming folding his paper and placing it on the table in front of him, never turning to see her look of absolute frustration.
“I can’t help it if you’re prone to do monumentally stupid things,” she huffed, crossing her arms over her pyjama-clad chest.
“What seems to be the problem this time, Ginny? As you know, I am a very busy man with a schedule to keep.” He knew he was playing with fire. He spoke with the cool, indifferent tone of voice that always sent her over the edge. And whether he wanted to admit it or not, his day was that much brighter whenever he sent her anger over the edge – it made her all the more appealing to him.
She snatched the paper off of his breakfast table, flipping at a rather fastidious rate to the gossip section of The Daily Prophet. Satisfied that she had found the appropriate page, she folded it before shoving it in his face, a finger pointed at the girl in the picture. “Her, Draco? Of all of the eligible bachelorettes in the wizarding world, you decided to pick Astoria Greengrass? And as your fiancée, no less?” Ginny screeched the last part, causing Draco to wince.
“Jealous?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.
Ginny quickly took a step back, affronted. “Of Astoria Greengrass? Hm...let me think about that...um, no.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“I’m just saying that you could have picked someone better, is all. You deserve better,” Ginny replied, sounding slightly resigned. “I’m leaving. It was nice chatting with you.”
She Apparated before he had the chance to reply.
* * * * * * * *
She was in love.
Ginny Weasley was arse over teakettle in love. With someone she couldn’t have. Of all the people in the wizarding world to fall so madly in love with, it had to be him. It couldn’t have been Harry, or Dean, or Blaise, or any other guy she had previously been with. No, it had to be him. It had to be Draco sodding Malfoy. And to make matters worse, she had to wake up that morning to the glorious headline in the Prophet announcing his engagement to Daphne Greengrass’s younger sister, Astoria. Fan-bloody-tastic.
So she Apparated to the Manor to confront him, determined to tell him how she felt about him, come hell or high water. But she'd lied; played his comments off as though her heart wasn’t being shattered into neat little fragments. She couldn’t help it – he was her best friend, and she would do anything to see him happy, even if it meant finding his happiness with someone other than her.
And it wasn’t as though her romantic love for him was a recent development. It had been going on strong for two years. Two years to the day. What had started off as some passing summer crush had morphed into a full-scale, dreamy-kind of love for him. It also didn’t help that he came to her for advice on how to woo his of-the-moment flame. So like a good friend (and Gryffindor, to a lesser extent), she complied with his wishes, doing reconnaissance when the occasion called for it, or helping him pick out the perfect set of matching earrings and necklace, all the while praying that one day he would see in her what she saw in him.
* * * * * * * *
Something was wrong.
Not that everything was perfect in his turbulent friendship with Ginny, but she seemed a bit...off when she entered his bedroom that morning. He was used to her disapproving of his choice in women; it was rare, in fact, for her to even agree to the women he introduced to her. This morning, though, there was just something strange in the way she reacted to him choosing Astoria. He supposed he should have told her before he announced it to the world, maybe ask for her advice or thoughts on the situation, but he couldn’t live his married life like that. What husband goes to a female best friend for advice when he has a wife for that?
Not only that, but she normally gave as good as she got. They would often spend hours just going back and forth before their argument disappeared without warning. But when he baited her, she seemed resigned, and if there was one thing Draco Malfoy knew for certain in this world, it was that Ginny Weasley was not a quitter. It was so unlike her to not rise to his bait.
He didn’t think Astoria was the reason either. He found her to be a perfectly reasonable choice for a potential wife –intelligent, well-spoken, beautiful, not to mention a rather tasteful dresser. She was blunt, but not overtly so, and would usually give Draco the what for if he screwed up. It was the longest he'd ever stayed with a girl, and they suited each other well. It only made sense for him to propose.
* * * * * * * *
She awoke the next morning to a raging headache and the insistent pecking of an eagle owl at her bedroom window.
Ginny rolled over and, not realizing her proximity to the edge of her bed, fell over onto the floor in a mass of sheets and pillows.
She let out a whinge, cursing the benevolent beings above for their idea of humour, as she slowly rose to her feet, opening the window to allow the owl entrance.
It perched on her headboard, sticking its leg out for Ginny to grab the letter wedged in its talons.
She opened it and quickly grabbed her wand from the nightstand, setting fire to the short missive. She walked over to the desk in the corner of the room, pulling a blank envelope out of a stack, dumped the ashes of the other letter inside and sealed it. Handing the envelope to the owl, she shooed it out, sending it back to its blond owner.
* * * * * * * *
Draco watched as his eagle owl swooped back into his office, excited to see Ginny’s reply.
He ripped open to envelope only to watch in shock as the ashes of his letter floated to the glossy surface of his desk.
She always had to make things difficult.
* * * * * * * *
After a month or so of trying to contact her in hopes of setting up a meeting with the stubborn witch he called his best friend, he gave up, instead deciding to do things the old fashioned way and just visit her in person.
He arrived at her apartment complex on the north side of Diagon Alley, right before the Business District, just as the sky began to turn a slate grey as storm clouds moved into the area. A flash of lightning in the distance caught his attention and he went inside just as the thunder was able to catch up.
He knocked on the door to Ginny’s apartment several times, praying to the gods that she was home. She opened the door after five minutes, dressed in a pair of torn-at-the-knees denim pants and an oversized tee shirt. “What do you want?”
“I can’t visit my best friend anymore?” He tried, pouting a little. Pouting usually got her every time. She raised an eyebrow in suspicion. Apparently, not this time.
“You’re full of shit, but come on in anyways. Merlin knows how long this visit will take.” She stepped aside to allow him entrance, plopping down on the sofa near her kitchen, stretching her arms over her head languidly.
Draco stepped around the discarded take-out boxes and pints of ice cream, frowning at the sight. Ginny never kept her place in such a bad state. It was always in impeccable condition. He sat down in what looked like a padded chair with a sweatshirt strewn across the back.
“What’s wrong with you lately?” he asked after watching her cross her legs over one another in an effort to become more comfortable.
“Nothing’s wrong with me. Everything’s just wonderful.”
“That’s a load of bullshit, Ginny, and you know it. Just look at your place - I’ve never seen it like this. And you don’t even talk to me anymore. We used to see each other almost every day, and now I’m lucky if I hear something about you from others. None of your co-workers at the Ministry will say anything to me, and anytime I try to contact your family I get no response. Your mum loves me! I can always get her to talk to me, but every time I’ve tried in the past month, she’s never available. Something’s up, Ginny, and I want to know what it is.”
Ginny bit her lower lip, looking down at her hands in her lap. She could feel the tears pooling in her eyes. She didn’t want to cry in front of him, it seemed so stupid when she already cried over him too much before.
Before she knew what was going on, he was kneeling in front of her, lifting her head by her chin.
“I’m sorry, Draco, but I can’t. Please leave.” She shifted out of his grasp, running to her room.
Hearing the door of her bedroom slam, he sighed, getting up off the floor, before walking to her bedroom. He heard her crying on the other side, and pressed his ear to the wooden door.
“I ended the engagement with Astoria.”
He can’t tell her reaction, but leaves anyway, walking out the door to her apartment just in time for the rain to fall.
He pulls the hood of his cloak up over his head, wrapping it around him to prevent his clothes from getting soaked.
He sets off down the street before he hears his name.
“Draco!”
He turns around to see Ginny running toward him at breakneck speed, her clothes clinging to her body, making him notice that she gained a bit of weight, too.
She nearly skids to a halt in front of him, not caring about the fact that it’s raining and that she might get sick; she just has to confirm one thing from him.
“Is it true?”
“Is what true? And what are you doing out here without a cloak! You’re going to get sick.”
“Is what you said about you ending your engagement true? And I could care less about getting sick right now.”
“Yes, it’s true. Now get back inside before I have to carry you there.”
“Hold on; I just need to say something to you.” She paused, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves. “I’m in love with you,” she announced with an unsure smile and a shrug, happy to have finally told him.
He doesn’t say anything for a minute or so, causing her to shift nervously from one foot to the other.
“Well? Aren’t you going to say anything? I just told you that-” She was cut off by his lips crashing down on hers, his arms snaking around her waist, pulling her in for a possessive embrace.
He breaks away, laughing at the dreamy smile gracing her features. “That’s why I broke off the engagement. I’ve been too much of an idiot these past years to see what's been in front of me this entire time.”
She laughs as he lowers he head down for another kiss; a more gentle, caressing, and languid kiss then the one previous. She looks up before she’s consumed by the sensations, smiling against his lips. It is no longer raining -- a ray of sunlight has broken through.
Author notes: Thanks for reading! Please review. :D
To Be Continued.
Alexandria Malfoy is the author of 16 other stories.
This story is a favorite of 12 members. Members who liked Every Season also liked 715 other stories.
This story is a favorite of 12 members. Members who liked Every Season also liked 715 other stories.
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