Spellbound (Dramione Smut Story)

Chapter Seventeen

Okay, so if you get a notification stating that this chapter is nonexistent when you try and comment, ignore it!

In case you missed it, I published this letter in my Dramione Smut Book a short while ago. It does carry some important information in it that I still believe to be relevant, so please read. Thank you!

I am aware that I have been horribly inactive for a while now. I'm sorry, but I can't promise to update once a week, as fabulous as that would be. I simply have too many stories and too much of a social life. Over the time of my inactivity, I have attempted to continue to respond to everyone's comments. In responding, I have managed to come up with an outline of a plan regarding moving forward. If I am being completely honest, Spellbound has turned out to be something that I had never envisioned. It was never really meditated upon, and it was never meant to go past Draco's accident, however I moved too fast chapter-wise. I skipped a lot of important development. I've decided to continue on with it and try to draw up another plot based off of where I've just left off since it seems to be my most popular piece of work. As for The Minister.... I. Am. Stuck. I think my best bet will be to let you guys take the wheel, so any of you who have read The Minister, please send in (through a private message) what you think should happen. If I chose to use your idea, I will list you in the information section as a co-writer. Percabeth is hard. I'm sorry, but real talk, it is. I can't seem to find anything that I'd like to write about it, so that book very well may be shut down if I can't write two more parts by it's birth date. Finally, Meeting Malfoy. I am in love with the concept and I hope you all are in love with the story. I have tried very hard to focus on that book and make it worth reading. In my free time, I write stories that I someday hope to publish, and Meeting Malfoy was originally drawn up and written to mirror those stories. In other words, I didn't want to half-ass it and end up in the same position that I'm in with Spellbound. This book will remain a mismatched collection where I will make most of my announcements.

Finally, I'd like to thank all of you. I want you all to know how much you really mean to me. I hated going inactive, I really did. I just had this huge creativity block, which has taken quite some time to fix. But you all have stayed by my side and continue to be supportive and caring. Also, I do read all of your comments. I try to find responses as well. They make my day. Even if you don't comment, I do look at your profile and your username, and I remember. None of you go unforgotten. Without you all, I wouldn't be here. You all give me so much that I absolutely don't deserve, which is why I write you guys love letters like this every now and again.

Love,

Jamie Ellen

Draco

I sat alone in a cold hotel room that was guarded on the outside by Dementors. My wrists were encircled by iron and held together with a two foot chain. It was an unnecessary accessory and an insult to my nature. I lay with my head against the wall that sat behind the bed and pondered.

I thought about everything. The assault, Potter's behavior, her face, the mask, Ron Weasley with tits (it made me want to smile, so I thought of it most often). I felt so much at one time that it registered as nothing. I was angry at both Potter and Mick, I was worried about Hermione, I was frustrated with my situation, and I was upset with all of it.

A knock sounded on my door and I forced my head up, gazing trough my hair that had fallen across my forehead when the product gave out. The door opened with a small creak and closed lightly on its hatch. Feet shuffled silently into the room.

"Draco?" A head full of curly brown hair poked out from around the corner. I offered a half-hearted grin that lasted no more than a second.

After a patter of feet, the bed jostled and my face was snatched up in a pair of small and cool hands. Sweet lips pressed themselves to my own passionately, beckoning my chained hands to rise and grab their host. I resisted. Anger intensified within my chest as I remembered her leaving me, her letter, my own pain.