A Helping Hand Chapter 1

Content Warnings: Spanking, CMNF, Teasing.

She knew how it worked in theory.

The ‘come and go’ room, they called it. You went, you came, you left. That was it. Well, there was the money, but she wasn’t hurting for it. The price was a drop in the bucket for her.

Daphne tightened the cloak around her body. She had no desire to be recognized. It was bad enough for her mania to get to the point that she was seriously considering spending the night with a random person whose identity she was unaware of. The thought of it being a talking point for the vapid bitches of her House was enough to make her want to fling herself off the Astronomy Tower.

Tracey had a good experience, she reminded herself. 

She subconsciously rubbed her wrist. Nothing would ever be the same. Tracey said she understood but how could she? How could anyone in her position?

She had stood in a circle and vowed to eradicate ‘vermin’ like the girl’s mother. 

Daphne dug her sharp nails into her wrist until they broke through the fabric of her blouse and pierced her skin. The pain was the only thing that kept her sane. But it was not enough. Nothing was enough anymore. 

She paused in front of the tapestry of Barnaby the Troll. She did as the Twins had instructed in their letter, walking up and down the corridor in front of the blank slate of wall opposite the tapestry three times. She focused on her anger and helplessness, on the self-loathing and disgust bubbling within her.

The bricks retreated to reveal a small wooden door set into the wall. Daphne pushed it open, raising an eyebrow at the room on the other side of the door. 

It wasn’t what she had asked for but she supposed the room would have also taken into account the taste of whichever of the Twins’ manning the station for the night. 

At least the red and gold color scheme made sense in that context. The room was illuminated by candles floating in the air, their flickering flames casting long shadows on the stone floor. 

Daphne moved to the couch in front of the fireplace and contemplated her partner for the night. They were easy on the eyes. Neither of them was her type physically or personality-wise and she’d never consider them for a romantic partner but she wasn’t actively repelled by them. Which was more than she could say for most of the men in her life.

She stared into the flickering flames dancing merrily in the fireplace and contemplated what was to come. 

A desperately needed break. One occasion where she could switch her brain off and get someone to hate her as much as she hated herself. They were Gryffindors. Surely they’d loathe her actions. Surely they’d give her what she wanted.

Anger. Recrimination. Humiliation.

The sound of the door opening broke her free of her thoughts. She was too scared to turn and face her partner for the night so she simply trapped her lower lip between her teeth and stared into the flames, waiting for him to speak first.

“Hermione says you shouldn’t bite your lip. It’ll mess up your teeth.”

Daphne froze at the all-too-familiar voice.

No, the voice in her head screamed. It demanded she get up and run but her legs refused to cooperate. 

“What’re you doing here?” She refused to turn around and look. Tracey had told her that the room would manifest her deepest desires. If she refused to look, perhaps the voice would go away and their interaction would be nothing more than a fever dream. “I have an appointment.”

Had they double-booked? Did the Twins each see one person at a time? 

She wasn’t one to judge someone’s taste in partners but it would be a damn shame if that was the case. Half the girls in the castle would probably swear off men and romance in their grief. 

“I know. That’s why I’m here. Sorry for running late, Ron refused to leave me alone.” The man paused. “Wait. Are you expecting someone else?”

Yes. No. I don’t know!

She suddenly wished she had pushed Tracey for more details about the damned arrangement. Her best friend had refused to divulge more than the bare minimum, claiming she had been sworn to secrecy. 

Daphne slowly turned and studied the man by the door with wide gray eyes. 

Morgana, he was fine. An easy-going smile complemented the tousled black hair and playful green eyes. He was dressed in a faded gray shirt that was much too big for him and tattered jeans. The clothes couldn’t hide his impressive physique even though they looked like they had been fished out of a bin.

Had the Potters fallen on such hard times? Surely he had enough of that fabled fortune left to afford some decent clothes. It occurred to her that she’d never seen him in normal clothes. His uniform looked fine, if a bit untidy. 

She made a mental note to get her father to increase the bursary Hogwarts provided to disadvantaged students.

“You don’t have to do this,” she found herself saying. “Just take the money. Twilfitt’s in Hogsmeade is overpriced but Madame Malkin has recently started delivering orders by mail. You should look into that.”

“What are you talking about?” he asked, his brow furrowed.

Daphne fished out the promissory note from her cloak and held it out in a trembling hand. 

“It’s enough to get you a new wardrobe.”

“That money’s not for me.”

“I was told it was for disadvantaged people.” Daphne tried her best not to stare. “There’s no shame in admitting you need help. Your line falling on hard times is not a reflection on your character.”

“Why do you think I need money?” 

She watched him move to a counter at the far end of the room and pull out plates and cutlery from under it. A kitchen? Why would the room manifest a kitchen? 

She had more important questions that needed an answer.

“Your clothes?” she offered timidly. “It’s fine. I won’t tell anyone.”

“I have enough money to buy clothes. I don’t need that.”

The rebuke caused her cheeks to flush. She withdrew her hand and dropped the promissory note on the couch. At least he didn’t seem upset. He simply hummed happily as he withdrew various boxes from the bag he had brought and arranged a veritable feast on the plates.

“Why are you doing this in that case?” she asked, utterly confused by the entire situation. She’d been asked to bring money but he didn’t need or want the money. “Is this another prank from them? I thought they outgrew that. Or, well, channeled it through that store of theirs.”

“Didn’t the Twins explain it in their letter? They usually do,” Harry asked. He pulled out a small thermos from the bag and set it on the counter. 

“I didn’t read the letter they sent. I’ve been… distracted.”

Every single piece of mail she got was tossed straight into the fire. She didn’t even bother to look at the names of the people who sent the letters. She planned to ignore the world outside until she could no longer do so.

“How did you find this place if you didn’t read the letter?”

“Tracey told me how to get here. And about the money. She didn’t elaborate. Said she’d been sworn to secrecy.”

“She is. You will be too, if we go any further.”

“I’m not sure.” She bit her lip again and immediately released it. 

He doesn’t like people who bite their lips, the small voice in her head reminded her.

“I know I should have read the letter but can you give me a quick explanation of how this works?”

“Nothing easier. Long story short, the Ministry is stretched thin. Doesn’t help that half the people in there are in Voldemort’s-” he paused when she shuddered. “It’s just a name. Well, they’re in his service and actively hampering Ministry initiatives. The Twins wanted to raise money for Mungo’s and for the businesses in Diagon Alley affected by Death Eater attacks. You donate that money either to Mungo’s or to the fund George has established to get the businesses back on their feet and I do whatever you want for a night.”

“So you don’t need money.”

“With what my parents left me and the amount I inherited from my godfather I have more money than I could spend in my entire lifetime,” Harry said with a humorless chuckle.

“Why not use some of that?”

“It’s locked behind a trust fund until I’m twenty-one. They need the help urgently, not a year from now,” Harry shrugged. “I need the distraction from some… things that have happened. This is a good way to kill two birds with one stone.”

“And if I donate the money, will you do whatever I want? It doesn’t have to be something in particular?”

“That’s how it works!” Harry said cheerfully. He flopped into the armchair next to her and held his hands out in front of the fire. “Someone wanted me to recount all my adventures through the years. Someone else wanted me to brush and braid their hair.”

“What did Tracey want from you?”

“I can’t tell you that.” Harry mimed zipping his lips. “Secrecy, remember? I don’t want to violate anyone’s trust.”

“Right.” Her cheeks heated up again and she felt very foolish. “Sorry. I’m a little overwhelmed.”

Harry nodded. She watched him get up and disappear to somewhere behind her. She tensed when she felt his hand on her shoulder moments later and within seconds she was wrapped in a soft, heavy blanket. She tried to wriggle out of it but he wrapped it tightly. It was too warm, too comfortable, too cozy. 

Daphne turned to look at him, the protest dying in her throat at the sight of the content smile on his face. 

“This is a judgment-free zone. You can ask whatever you want from me. Who do you want to give the money to?” Harry asked, picking up the promissory note. He carried it over to the kitchen and carefully placed it on the counter.

“Mungo’s, please,” Daphne said softly. Her fingers dug into her arm under the blanket, reopening old wounds. Would she hurt others the way she’d ask him to hurt her? Surely after he saw the mark, he’d agree to her request. Perhaps he’d even enjoy it. 

She was the enemy. 

“Alright. This is going to help a lot of people,” Harry smiled and dropped the quill back into the ink pot. “Now, for my part of the bargain. What would you like me to do?”

“I need you to hurt me.”

“What?” Harry cocked his head. “Is that a euphemism? What for? Kinky stuff?”

“I don’t need pink fluffy cuffs and I don’t want to sleep with you.” Daphne took a deep breath and ignored the voice in her head pointing out that her words were a lie. “I need you to hurt me. It can be physical or magical, I don’t care. I need to atone. I know the Cruciatus is illegal but no one will know.”

Harry ignored her plea. His expression grew somber and he walked closer to where she sat on the couch.

“Daphne, if you need to talk to someone-”

“I’m fine!” Daphne sobbed. “I fucked up. I made a choice and I did something that can’t be undone. I hurt someone. I need you… look, if you can’t give me what I want, I’m leaving.”

“Tell me what you did and I’ll give you what you want,” Harry murmured, holding his hands up in surrender. He gingerly sat down on the armchair. “If I can’t fix it, that is.”

Daphne ripped the blanket away from her. She raised her right arm and unbuttoned the sleeve with trembling fingers, rolling it down to show him the black skull and snake branded on her pale skin. Other than the marks made by her nails, it was entirely unblemished. The mark’s magic healed every injury she had inflicted.

“Can you fix this?” Daphne asked, breathing heavily. “You know the shops you’re raising money for? I burnt down one of them to earn this.”

“Did you hurt someone?”

Daphne shook her head bitterly. 

“She had a cellar hidden under some floorboards. She hid down there while I torched her life’s work.”

“Why?”

“Each of us had to do something to prove we were worthy of the mark.”

“Why’d you take the mark, Daphne?”

His voice was soft and non-judgmental, which just made her feel worse. Why couldn’t he just hate her and hurt her and yell at her?

She loathed what she had become.

“To save my sister,” Daphne mumbled. “Malfoy was going to take her from us if I didn’t agree. I took the mark and he agreed to have the betrothal nullified.”

“Okay.” 

“You’re just going to trust me?”

“We’re not close, Daphne, but I know that look,” Harry murmured. “It’s the same look I had when I lost…” he paused and shook his head. “I trust you.” 

“Can you fix this? Can you take it away? Can you free me?”

“You’re already free. That mark doesn’t decide your destiny.”

“No, I’m not,” Daphne laughed bitterly. Her nails dug into her arm, creating fresh wounds. She stood and turned to face him. “I’m destined to serve a master. This is potent magic. Nothing, nothing can unshackle the chains it’s bound me in. So either you hurt me or you let me go because I’m not in the mood for your pity.”

“Okay.”

“You’re saying yes?” Daphne loosened the grip on her wrist. Thin trails of blood ran down her arm and her white blouse red. 

“In a way. If we do this, we do it my way.”

“Okay.” Daphne nodded. Anything to wash the filth off her. If Potter needed his ass kissed (literally or metaphorically, she was too far in to care) or his cock sucked (something she’d never done before but if Pansy could do it, how hard could it be?), she’d do it. 

“You obey me without question.”

“I-what?”

“You heard me.” Harry walked over to the desk set against a wall and grabbed the chair behind it, dragging it to the space directly in front of her. “I command, you obey. That’s the deal.”

“I thought the deal was that you did what I asked, not the other way around. My end of the deal involved donating a bunch of money.” Daphne chewed her lips nervously. “If you think you’re just going to order me not to hurt myself-”

She was taller than most girls, especially in her heels, but Harry barely had to look up even after he was seated.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he cut her off in a simple, matter-of-fact tone.

“I don’t need a knight in fucking shining armour,” she spit out, unable to help herself. “I’m an adult. I take accountability for my choices. I can take care of myself! We’re done here.”

She turned to leave. Harry reached out and grabbed her wrist, trapping her in place. Her skin was aflame. She could feel her mark burning, almost as if it was physically unable to tolerate his touch.

“Do you ever listen to others?”

“Occasionally. Then I remember I’m surrounded by idiots.” She tried to yank her hand free. A futile effort. “Let me go, Potter. I’m not in the mood for a lecture.”

“What about a punishment?”

“What?!”

“You did something wrong. Hurting yourself or asking someone else to hurt you doesn’t change or fix that-”

“Nothing can fix it.”

“Let me finish,” Harry said patiently. His grip on her wrist tightened. 

The pressure of his hand around her wrist was strangely comforting.

“You’re a strange man, Potter. What’s the difference?! Hurt me or punish me, it’s the same thing.”

“No, it isn’t. You hurt someone when you want them to suffer-”

“I deserve to suffer.”

Harry rolled his eyes and she scowled.

“Woman, do you ever shut up?”

“I thought you liked a little sass in your bed. Why else would you surround yourself with Granger and Weasley?” Daphne perked up. The thought of someone as straitlaced as Granger making use of such a service… “Has Granger ever visited this room?”

“You know I can’t tell you that.”

“She has,” Daphne grinned, taking his non-acceptance as confirmation. “Does she make you grade fake papers? I bet this is the only room where she can beat me in Ancient Runes.”

“Daphne.” Harry tugged on her wrist and pulled her closer. “Can we get back to your punishment? You’re getting punished because you did something wrong. Now, get over my lap.”

Daphne stood, frozen in place, staring at him like a deer caught in headlights.

“What?” she croaked.

“On my lap. We don’t have all night. I’d like to go to bed at a reasonable hour.”

Was he out of his mind? He had to be. She glanced furtively at his thighs.

They were really nice thighs…

She found her legs moving of their own accord. They led her to him and she only paused when her thighs hit his knees.

“You’re insane.”

“You asked me to use the Cruciatus on you.”

“I deserve it,” Daphne whispered. She licked her dry lips. “I deserve a lot worse. I betrayed my closest friend. I’m no better than Pettigrew.”

“Then you certainly deserve a spanking.”

“It’s not-”

“If I feel it isn’t enough, we’ll go further. On my lap. Now.”

The low growl spurred her to action. She timidly draped herself over his lap, wriggling her curvy figure until she was safe and secure over his thick, firm thighs. His muscles pushed into her and she subconsciously sucked her non-existent belly in.

“Have you ever spanked someone before?”

Daphne wasn’t sure what she wanted his answer to be. She bit her lip as his large palm roamed over her rump, suddenly feeling very naughty indeed. Her attention was solely focused on the slight pressure on her backside and the self-hatred within her quietened, if only temporarily. 

“I can’t tell you that.”

“So you have. In this room. Was it Pansy?” Daphne hazarded a guess. She squashed the ugly coil of jealousy the second it reared its head in her belly. “No. Can’t have been Pansy.”

“Why not?”

“No amount of money will convince you to see her after what she’s done to Granger.” Daphne pressed her face into the scratchy wool of his trousers. “And she’d sooner throw the money into a gutter than admit she hates herself.”

“I’ve never seen Pansy in this room.”

“Good. You’re too good for her.”

“You’re a strange Slytherin, Daphne.” Harry pushed his hand under her skirt and carelessly flipped it over to reveal her ass. “Have you ever been spanked before?”

“No. Be gentle, please.”

“You were asking me to torture you less than five minutes ago,” Harry chuckled. 

He raised one leg and pressed it over Daphne’s knees, trapping her legs in place. She could no longer move anything below her waist. 

“This feels worse.” 

“Why?”

“I feel like a naughty girl caught with her hand in the cookie jar,” Daphne giggled nervously. “And now I’m going to be punished for it.”

“You have been a naughty girl.” Harry’s palm ghosted over her firm ass. “And you shall be punished for it.”

Daphne bit back the moan bubbling in her throat. This was not the same man from a year ago. Something had changed. She certainly wasn’t complaining. She pushed her face into his thighs to hide her flaming cheeks, suddenly conscious about her choice of underwear. They were a functional pair of white panties with a lace trim, nothing fancy.

“Sorry about my underwear, I-”

“Did I give you permission to speak?”

“No.”

“No, what?”

“No, sir,” Daphne mumbled. “Sorry, sir.”

“Good girl.” Harry’s fingers dug into the soft skin of her asscheek. “Hands behind your back.”

Daphne hurried to obey his order, ignoring the somersaults in her stomach at the gentle praise. She didn’t deserve it. By the gods, she was anything but good. But a part of her was more than happy to receive it and her lips curled into a small smile as she pushed her wrists together, letting his hand trap them in place behind her back. 

“Are you comfortable with a bare-cheek spanking?”

“You want to take off my underwear?” Daphne squeaked.

“That’s how spankings are traditionally delivered, yes.”

“Okay.”

She’d never been bare for a man before. Would he see her arousal? Could he smell it? 

“I need you to pick a word that’s hard to forget. You’ll use it if you’re overwhelmed and need me to stop,” Harry said as he tucked her skirt in its waistband. His fingers dug into the pale skin of her back as he pulled down her panties and left red marks in their wake. The underwear bunched up around her knees, pushing her legs together.

“Mugwump.”

“Mugwump?”

Daphne squeaked at the amusement in his voice.

“It’s hard to forget, sir.” 

“Mhm.”

SMACK!

“I- OH!”

The swat to her right cheek was much harder than she had expected. Her entire body jerked forward before it was pulled back into place by his hand. Her pale skin burned where his palm had made contact with it and she found a singular tear leaking out of the corner of her eye.

SMACK!

“I… please!”

She kicked her legs instinctively as his hand made contact with her left cheek. The pressure from his leg on her knees increased and she stilled. Her cheeks were flushed, the humiliation and pain from her burning cheeks having the strangest effect on her. She tensed as she felt the trickle of arousal snaking down the inside of her thigh tickle her skin.

“Relax,” Harry murmured. His calloused fingers dug into her skin as he massaged her aching ass. “It’ll hurt more if you’re tense.”

She wanted it to hurt more, didn’t she? But she also wanted to obey, to show him she could be good and follow instructions-

Gah!

She decided on a compromise. She relaxed as ordered but wriggled against his hold, acting like she was trying to get free.

Her reward was swift and merciless.

SMACK! SMACK!

“Oh, fuck!” Daphne screamed as pain bloomed in her rear. 

SMACK!

“Don’t swear.”

Every slap was delivered with cold precision. Her skin burned after every impact and she was certain she wasn’t going to sit on a bench anytime soon. Yet, she found herself craving his touch. She arched her back, pushing her soft flesh into his waiting hand and was promptly rewarded with another spank.

SMACK!

“I’m sorry, daddy!” Daphne sobbed. “I didn’t mean to let you down!”

“Don’t-” SMACK “-use titles I didn’t allow you to use.” 

SMACK!

“I’m sorry, sir!” Daphne buried her face in his trousers, her fat tears staining the dark fabric. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

SMACK! SMACK!

Daphne shuddered, unable to hold back a moan as she felt the tension inside her rise to a crescendo. One more spank would have pushed her over the edge but his hand withdrew, leaving her wanting.

“I want you to realize that the world is an unfair place and sometimes we are not to blame for what we do or say,” Harry murmured. His hand returned to her ass but instead of mauling her, he gently massaged the sore cheeks. “It’s good to take responsibility but you can’t beat yourself up over what’s happened.”

Daphne hiccuped. She nodded mutely against his legs.

“You can use any title you want. Clearly one feels more natural to you than others,” Harry chuckled.

“N-No it doesn’t,” Daphne lied. She was a hot mess of issues wrapped in a pretty blonde body. She hissed when his fingers dug into her stinging skin. “Sorry, daddy. That was a lie.”

Daphne didn’t fight Harry when he tugged on her wrist and pulled her into an embrace. She burrowed into him, meekly seeking out the warmth and comfort of his chest. 

“How was that for a punishment?”

“I feel very… chastised,” Daphne whispered. The howling void of hatred inside her had been replaced by warm contentment, if only temporarily. If the man who had been hurt most by it didn’t hold the mark against her, surely she could learn to live with it as well. That’s what told herself and it worked, for now at least. 

“Then I’ll have to make sure to repeat it as much as possible so it sticks. Weekly, perhaps??”

“I’ll run out of money within months.”

“Your donation covers every session until the end of the year. Thank you. It was a very generous amount. Mungo’s will put that money to good use.”

“It was the least I could do,” Daphne whispered. Her nails dug into his skin as she clung to his shoulders but he didn’t complain. His arms wrapped around her and she felt his fingers on her back. The same fingers that had mercilessly mauled her ass now drew random patterns on her back, soothing her into slumber.

“Do you think you can stand?”

Daphne nodded against his chest. 

“You’re going to go to the corner and face the wall for ten minutes. Think about everything that’s happened tonight. When I see you next time, I want a one parchment-long essay on it.”

“Yes, daddy.”

She climbed off his lap on unsteady legs and waddled to the closest corner. Walking was too difficult and she shed her panties halfway through the journey, dropping them on the stone floor and continuing until she reached the intersection of two walls. He hadn’t asked her to but she locked her arms behind her back, her right wrist securely held in her left hand. The action arched her back and raised her red ass. She didn’t dare to look back but she could feel his eyes on him, enjoying his handiwork. 

Suddenly feeling playful, she wriggled her hips. Her firm cheeks bounced and clapped together. If he wanted to admire her best feature, by the gods she was going to give him a show.

“Did I say you could move?” Harry growled.

“No, sir,” Daphne answered, glad that he could not see her smile. He had been looking. Staring even, if the desire in his voice was any indication. “Sorry, it won’t happen again.”

She knew she was supposed to reflect on what had happened but she couldn’t stop thinking about his eyes on her ass. Pansy had once boasted about letting Draco bugger her. Was that something Harry wanted to do to her? How would it feel? 

Quiet, she instructed the silly voice in her head. It was the worst fucking time to have a sexual awakening, especially for a man as unattainable as Harry fucking Potter.

She obediently stayed in place until he spoke again, only turning around once he informed her that her ten minutes were up. 

Harry was sprawled on the same couch she had been sitting on. He nursed a glass of firewhiskey as he stared into the flickering flames. His legs spread and the top buttons of his shirt undone; he was the very picture of careless elegance. It wasn’t too hard to imagine him relaxing similarly after a hard day in Wizengamot, his lady wife curled up on his lap or by his side.

Daphne busied herself with freeing and smoothing her skirt to avoid staring at him. 

“Are you okay?” Harry asked softly.

Daphne nodded. She obeyed his hooked finger and moved closer, pausing when she was standing in front of him. Her lowered gaze meant it was impossible to ignore the bulge in his trousers. 

“You’re not allowed to punish yourself. Only I can do that. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Daphne murmured. A hard instruction to follow and she was certain she’d fail but she was determined to try her best.

“You can go now. Goodnight, Daphne.”

“You don’t want me to do anything to help with your… problem?” Daphne asked, looking up at him in surprise. Her eyes flickered to his crotch and she added hastily. “I mean, it’s not a problem. I just said that because it looks uncomfortable, sir.”

Harry wasn’t offended. On the contrary, he sounded amused when he spoke.

“And what do you intend to do about my ‘problem’, Daphne?”

“I could help relieve it.”

“How?”

Daphne scowled. He was being a dick, making a joke out of her inexperience. She refused to be cowed.

“By using my mouth. I doubt you’ve ever experienced it but it’s very pleasant,” she snarked.

“You want to suck my cock?”

Daphne refused to look away or stutter when she spoke despite her maroon cheeks and the butterflies in her belly. She’d do it. She could do it. It was no different than sucking a piece of candy.

A massive candy, the voice in her head reminded her. 

Daphne sushed the voice and took a few seconds to collect her thoughts before she spoke.

“Yes,” she said. The only hint of her nervousness was a slight tremble in her voice. 

“Only good girls get to suck cock. Are you a good girl, Daphne?” 

And just like that, the fire bubbling in her was extinguished. She was not a good girl but she very much wanted to be his good girl.

“No, sir.”

“Then you can go. Follow my instructions and I might reconsider the next time we meet.”

Daphne blushed and nodded. She extracted herself from his hold and limped out of the room, only pausing on the way to pick up her discarded panties.

“Daphne?”

She paused. 

“Yes, sir?”

“Leave them. I’ll take good care of them, don’t worry.”

Daphne couldn’t see him but she could’ve sworn he was smiling. Had he smelled her arousal clinging to the fabric of her underwear? Did she know how turned on she was, how close she had come to cumming while he was punishing her?

“Yes, sir.”

Daphne straightened and walked primly out of the room, or as primly as a freshly spanked, extremely horny girl could. 

She made her way back to her House, marched through the Common Room, and straight to her dormitory. Harry hadn’t said anything about orgasms. If Harry wasn’t going to give her what she wanted in real life, she decided as she pulled the curtains around her bed, she would damn well take it from him in her fantasies.

Notes:

I've been incredibly depressed over the past month for a number of reasons, including the passing of my last pet (don't have any more, probably won't get one for a while). In order not to make this notes too long I won't share everything that happened but you're welcome to DM me here or on Discord. I did start seeing a psych who's made me realize my writing isn't utter shit and you all won't hate my new chapters, so I'm back! Miss me? This story will be gritty and emotional, reflecting my mood over the past few weeks.