A/N: I'm truly sorry this took so long! I had a lot on my platter. Job-issues, health-issues, German bureaucracy... let's say it was quite exhausting! And when I'm exhausted, it's hard to slip into the characters, which is how I write. But you don't want to hear me rant about my problems. Thank you all for you comments and reviews! It made me smile when things kept refusing to go my way...

A great big thanks to Shayla and jogger, without whom this would be so much harder and you would probably wait even longer.

Chapter 2 - Understanding

7th of December 1988

Dear Tom,

I'm feeling a little unwell today. But that might be, because I woke up in my bed this morning and can't remember for the wrath of Slytherin, how I came to be there! Obviously I went to bed yesterday evening, like I do every night, but the last thing I remember was walking back from the bathroom. Isn't that strange? Maybe I was so tired I fell asleep walking. I heard that those things can happen. But it's still weird that I managed to put on my pyjamas.

I would really like to hear more about your time at Hogwarts. Obviously father has told me a few things, but he is always working and has not much time. And all my other friends, like Vince and Greg, are around my age. None of them are going to Hogwarts yet. It would be great to know stuff already when I go there in three years. I hope I will be in Slytherin like father and you. Father says it is the only decent house. Mother was there too, so I hope I will make it. But that's still soo long and until then I have to put up with the old bat (Mrs. Avery).

"You are going to stay with me."

-xoSox-

Sirius stared at Remus. What the hell was he thinking? Didn't he see... But the warm toffee-coloured eyes of his friend were directed at him in an open invitation that was all too familiar. He had seen it so often. Remus giving and giving in. Handing over his notes for History of Magic, when Sirius never bothered to take any. Agreeing to help them with a prank, when he did not even really approve of that particular outrageous plan. And taking the scolding and the detention when they got caught, predictably, without even complaining. Cheering in the stands at Quidditch, while James and Sirius pulled their antics on their broomsticks. Listening to them boast and talk about Auror-training when he couldn't find a job. Always there, always in the background, slightly overshadowed. Giving and forgiving. When Sirius didn't even deserve it.

"No." It was all he could say, and he was grateful that he managed to sound firm.

Remus looked at him, disbelieve evident in his eyes. "You want to go back to Azkaban that badly?" he snapped and Sirius flinched, but he knew he had provoked that, deserved that.

"That's not the point." His voice was a harsh whisper.

Remus opened his mouth, probably to tell him, that quite frankly that was the point, because if there was one thing which Remus was stubborn about, it was when it came to sacrificing himself for his friends. But Sirius was faster.

"I would like to speak with Albus alone for a moment," he said before Remus could voice his opinion.

Stormy grey met brittle, and for a moment there was something like a silent battle raging, but no secret messages were exchanged, all that was evident was that they didn't agree.

Finally Remus nodded and turned away, leaving the room and silently closing the door behind him, where Sirius knew he would have slammed it with a bang. But never Remus. If he had been hurt by Sirius request, he hid it well. He was too damn good at hiding. Hiding his feelings, hiding his hurt, when he was faced with rejection and prejudice. He always had been. Even when he was a little boy. And still, what Sirius needed to say, he couldn't say in front of Remus. For those very same reasons.

When Remus had left, Sirius turned towards Dumbledore, who had kept his face neutral during the exchange. Sirius glared at him. "You can't let him do this!" he growled.

Dumbledore did his single eyebrow thing, which annoyed Sirius even more. "You assume our friend would listen to me?" Dumbledore looked like he was honestly considering that.

"Okay, so you have to talk him out of it!" Sirius relented impatiently.

"Why are you so against this course of action? I would have thought you'd appreciate the offer."

Sirius ran a hand through his hair, looking to the side, away from the old wizard. "I can't... they won't even let him! He is a werewolf! What makes you even think they would accept him as my... what? Prison guard? Guardian? And even if they did... can't you see how much trouble it would be for him? He is... private. He doesn't like people snooping around in his life. And if something, anything, happened, you know they would blame him as fast as you can say 'dark creature'. From what I gathered, the Ministry has not become any more lenient towards werewolves in the last seven years."

"Not much, no. Although there have been recent improvements."

Sirius head shot up, his eyes wide. Had they found-?

"Not a cure." Dumbledore said, and Sirius once more wondered if it was a keen perception of human nature, or simply Legilimency that made the old man that sharp-sighted. He almost didn't hear what the wizard said next. "There have been recent discoveries that can make it easier for those like Remus. Still, it is rather difficult and experimental yet. But that is not what you wanted to talk about in private."

"I don't want to take advantage of him like that." Sirius said quietly.

"I can understand that, but I'm afraid I have to agree with Remus. It is the only option, if you don't want to go back to your old cell, a little more reinforced this time around of course. I was under the impression, that you would rather avoid that."

Sirius nails cut into the palms of his fists, as he tried to fight down the panic that thought evoked in him. He swallowed audibly. "I would. Believe me, it's the last thing I ever want. Or almost. There is one thing I want even less. I only have this one friend left. I don't want Remus to put himself in danger because of me."

"Like you did, when you staged yourself as James and Lily's secret-keeper?"

Sirius closed his eyes against the painful memories. "That was different."

"Was it?"

"Yes! For one thing it was no use at all. I was never in danger. I should have kept to the plan. I should have become the secret-keeper. It should have been me. And if they would have killed me, then the secret would have died with me."

"No. It wouldn't have."

"What? Of course it would! I would never have given up their secret! I would never have betrayed them!"

"That is not what I am saying, Sirius. I'm sure you would not have betrayed James and Lily." It was Sirius time to raise an eyebrow now, and he felt a strange satisfaction, when the old headmaster gave him an apologetic smile. "But James and Lily would have wanted their friends to know where they are, would have wanted to see them. Alice and Frank. Remus. Peter. Of course they could not have told anyone, not as long as you were alive. But..."

Sirius raised his head in understanding. He had studied the magic of the Fidelius Charm quite thoroughly back then. How could that have escaped him? "When I would have died..."

"The moment your heart stopped, they'd all have become secret-keeper. Including Peter. And he would have told his master and everything would have happened just the same. Only you would have been dead too. It wasn't your fault, Padfoot. It has always been Peter's. And Voldemort's. But never yours."

Sirius stared at his friend in the open door way. Had he been listening all that time? Or had he just now come back into the room? He didn't know, and he couldn't think through the indescribable chaos of feelings raging in side of him. Not his fault... How very much he wanted to believe that.

"I'm glad, do you hear me?" Remus went on, crossing the room until he stood directly in front of Sirius, for the first time towering over the taller man, due to his position. "I'm glad it happened this way, because I thought I lost all of you. For seven years, I thought I lost everything important in my life and I didn't. I didn't. And I am glad."

"Remus..."

"No! You don't get a say in this do you hear me? I'm not a boy anymore who ambles along after you! I will not let your stubbornness destroy this chance! You were so close to dying on me!" Remus thumb and index finger indicated, that his distance to death had been less than half an inch.

"But you can't..."

"And if you say 'werewolf' now, Sirius Black, I swear I will do the most unspeakable things to you! That is my problem, do you hear me? Mine! I'm the one who dealt with it since I was five, I can deal with it now!"

"Why is it that your problems are your problems and my problems are your problems as well? Don't I get any?"

Remus had his mouth open for more, when he met Sirius eyes and narrowed his own in a frown. "No," he said finally and firmly, but there was an odd twinkle in his eyes, that matched the one of his friend. "No. Since everyone knows how irresponsible you are, I will attend to them and you don't get a say."

"Irresponsible?" Sirius cried in outrage, but there was a distinct note of mocking in it.

"You charmed the Slytherin toilets to explode when people were sitting on them!"

"I was thirteen!"

"Yeah well...," Remus glared to his left, where he could have sworn he had heard a snicker coming from the third person in the room, "you can prove that you have matured when you're living with me!" he finished triumphantly, patted Sirius on the shoulder and strolled out of the room.

"We were just leaving," he said with a charming smile to the nurse, who had just arrived to remind them of the end of visiting hours.

-xox-

Mrs. Weasley had told him to come down and eat his cereal, since he hadn't finished his breakfast before. She made it sound like a question, but Harry knew it really wasn't.

'Don't you want to come down and eat your cereal, Harry dear?'

There was no way that Harry could have said no and get away with it. And he wanted to. He didn't want to eat his cereal. He didn't want to eat anything. The thought alone made him feel even sicker.

'It's good for you. You need fiber to become big and strong.'

Big and strong. It would be nice to be not such a pathetic weakling, but Harry had eaten a lot of cereal in his life already, especially since he seldom got anything else than this and dry toast for breakfast at the Dursley's. It never had made him strong and certainly not big.

But Harry still nodded and got up, following Mrs. Weasley out of the room. It was better to obey, to do what she wanted. If she wanted him to eat cereal, he would try. Even if it tasted like dust and made him feel like retching.

The twins and Ginny had gone outside apparently and Percy too was nowhere in sight, when Harry and Mrs. Weasley came back in the kitchen. But Ron was still sitting at the long table, hands fidgeting with a large glass of milk.

"Drink your milk, Ronald," his mother said, guiding Harry towards the table. She always did that. Guiding Harry with a hand on his shoulder, or his back. It was strange. As if she didn't trust him to do things on his own. It was irritating too and Harry couldn't help but feel relieved, when the hands were withdrawn. He didn't like to be touched. It always made him uncomfortable and wary.

"I have to look after the chicken." Mrs. Weasley said and reached out to stroke or ruffle Harry's hair. He shied away, pretending to bow down and pull up his sock, but she had noticed, he could hear it in the extra cheer in her voice. "Eat up sweetheart, okay? And remember you can have as much as you like."

"Why can't I have as much as I like?" Ron asked with a frown.

"You drink your milk!" was all the answer he got.

When the door closed behind Mrs. Weasley and the two boys were alone in the room, Harry dared a quick glance up at the other boy. Was he angry because Harry got food and he didn't? But the only thing he could see in Ron's open face was curiosity.

"Ginny said you cried," the redhead said.

Harry ducked his head deeper over his bowl. He knew he was weak and pathetic, and obviously Ron thought the same. They all probably thought the same. He had yet to eat and chose that moment to shove some of the softening cereal into his mouth. The taste almost made him gag, but he forced himself to chew and swallow. Everything was better, than to face the snide expression, that was sure to grace Ron's features.

There was some shuffling on the other side of the table, and then Ron asked in a voice that sounded very unsure, "Don't you like it here?"

Harry stilled and slowly looked up. Ron was biting his lip and looked at him with uncertainty rather than a sneer. "It's not so bad, you know. I mean, I know we're not rich like other wizards, but it's nice in the summer around here. We play Quidditch on the field behind the house a lot. It's a little cramped sometimes in the winter. Fred and George are always up to something, but they are alright. Percy can be a little annoying, but he'll be back at school soon. Really, it's not so bad."

Harry didn't know what to say and simply nodded.

"Mum likes you, you know."

Harry straightened, looking surprised. "She does?" he asked.

"'Course. It's always 'Harry dear this' and 'Harry love that'."

Harry looked mortified. "I'm sorry," he whispered. He couldn't imagine Ron being too keen on his mother liking another boy. Dudley had always protested at the smallest hint of his aunt being nice to him. Not that it had happened often. But he also couldn't really believe that Mrs. Weasley liked him. Why should she? He always said stupid things, that made her yell or drop potatoes.

Ron shrugged. "I don't mind. Gets her of my case some, I guess."

"She yells." Harry said in a low voice, as if he wasn't sure he could really say it out loud.

Strangely enough Ron grinned. "Oh yeah. Especially at Fred and George. They come up with something new to set her off almost every day," he said cheerfully.

Harry looked at him astonished. Ron made it sound, as if they did it on purpose. "Why?" he asked.

Ron shrugged again. "Guess it's fun. They had a bet running once, who could make her head go this really deep red more often in one week."

"What happened?" Harry asked aghast.

"They had to break it off, because Mum couldn't tell them apart well enough. They said, it spoiled the results."

"But..." Harry looked confused. "Wasn't she angry? Didn't she punish them?"

"Of course. Man, she yelled so much her voice was almost gone for a day."

Harry still couldn't comprehend why Ron was talking about that so lightly. "Didn't... didn't she... you know?"

Ron frowned. "Didn't she what?"

"Punish them."

"Oh yeah, they had to de-gnome the garden single-handedly for the whole summer AND didn't get dessert for a WEEK!"

"But didn't she... you know... h-hit them?" he whispered.

"No! Of course not... Why would she do that?"

Harry looked at him dismayed. Had he said something wrong? "I-I-I just thought," he stammered, "because she yells so much and she seems really angry, and there were those slaps and I thought... when she'd get really angry... it's just that my uncle yelled like that and... I didn't know. I'm sorry."

Ron looked at him with round eyes. "Did your uncle hit you? For real?"

Oh. Harry bit his lip, he didn't know if admitting it wouldn't be the wrong thing to do, but he had already said too much. "S-Sometimes."

Ron stared at him with his mouth hanging open. "J-just a little. When I was bad." He didn't really know why he said that. But maybe Ron would think he was really awful and stupid and weak if his uncle had to hit him. So he lied. He knew his uncle had not hit him just a little, at least he thought that a few times had been more than a little, like that one time with the belt. That had been really bad. But after that Sirius had taken him away from there. Sirius hadn't liked it, that his uncle had hit him. But Sirius was different than most people.

Ron didn't seem too much appeased by his words, though. He was still staring. "Sirius didn't like it," Harry blurted out. "He said it wasn't right. That's why he took me away!"

Ron slowly nodded. His mouth was still hanging open. He swallowed. "Y-You seem to l-like h-him a lot really." He hesitated. "Black, I mean."

"Sirius." Harry whispered.

"S-Sirius." Ron breathed, as if saying the name of a mass-murderer in such a personal way, might call him directly to your door.

"I-I do." Harry said, still very quietly. "He... he likes me too. He is my godfather."

"What does that mean?"

"It means my parents wanted him to take care of me when something happened to them." Harry explained, like Sirius had explained it to him.

"But... but he killed all those people, didn't he?"

Harry bit his lip. "I-I don't think so."

"But that's what they said on the Wireless and in the Prophet. That's what my Mum and Dad say." Obviously Ron thought the latter outweighed any other source by far.

"Sirius said he didn't," Harry whispered.

Well that was what you called a stalemate.

-xox-

Sirius eyes were closed and he was drifting in that pleasant state just before you fall asleep, when reality has already slipped away, and nightmares cannot yet reach you, and you just feel the warmth of the blankets and the heaviness of your limbs.

Sleep was reaching out his hands to him, and if he heard the door opening and closing it meant nothing to him in this cozy place. There was a clonking sound coming closer and he felt sleep retreat again, but still could not give meaning to the noise when it abruptly stopped. There was a noise like a harrumph next to him, and it was softer than all the noises before, but it was this sound, which made him jerk up startled.

The room had fallen dark, but right there at the end of his bed, the darkness was more solid, thicker and deeper. A fear ripped through his body, that was neither distinct nor rational. But for just a moment it was all consuming. His heart felt like it was hammering inside his dry mouth and there suddenly seemed to be no air in the room anymore. But he couldn't succumb to it. He is dead. He is dead! He struggled against the dizziness and forced his mouth to speak.

"Who are you?" His voice sounded gruff and wrong in his own ears, but at least it didn't waver.

"Oh. How rude of me." An unapologetic voice said, and suddenly the room was basked in light, and right in the middle stood the pale, glowing figure of Lucius Malfoy.

For an instant Sirius eyes widened before they narrowed to glinting slits. "What are you doing here?" he hissed.

"Why, dear cousin, inquiring about your health of course."

"Leave it, Malfoy. We both know you don't give a rat's ass about my well-being, so why are you here?"

"Really, this vulgarity. One could think you grew up with muggles rather than in one of the oldest pureblood families." Lucius stepped closer running the tip of his cane up over the sheets on Sirius left leg. It took all his strength to not only keep from flinching away, but also keep his expression blank and neutral. "But you're right of course," Lucius went on, "I'm not awfully interested in your well-being. But what I am interested in, is the state of your health. More particularly, if you are ready to be released. There is after all a nice room waiting for you at Azkaban. I even managed to get you the seaside view."

That smile. That horrid hateful smile. That smile had once haunted him for months. But he had been a boy then, just fifteen, afraid of what the older boy knew, and what he might do with that knowledge. Knowledge about others, especially that kind, was a weapon. That much he had understood back then, because his father had wielded that weapon exceptionally well. And the worst was that he couldn't tell anyone, not only because no one could know, but because there was no one there. He was alone.

But he was not a boy anymore. And compared with all the pain and suffering of the years since his fifth year at Hogwarts, Lucius Malfoy could not scare him anymore. Make him nauseous, that maybe. But not afraid. No, he did not have that power over him anymore and maybe he had never had.

"That's awfully kind of you," Sirius said and forced himself to lean back against his pillows in a relaxed way. He might not be afraid of Lucius, but that didn't mean he liked the vulnerable position he was in front of the man. "I hope your dear sister-in-law won't get jealous. I hear they locked her in the dungeons to smother all that yapping. Say, did you make it an outing for the whole family? I'm sure that sprog of yours would like to get to know his aunt Bella better."

It was only a small twitch at the corner of the blond man's eye, but it was a small victory and Sirius wasn't in a position to be picky. He grinned.

Narrowing his eyes Malfoy bent down a little, hovering over the thin wizard in the hospital bed. "You might think you are safe now, because that twit Dumbledore defends your miserable hide, but you will soon see that he doesn't yield the power to break you free," he hissed. "He has always been too weak to grab it, or he would have become Minister a long time ago." Lucius chuckled and stepped back from the bed. His voice taking on the sound of boredom again. "He was a fool to leave his position in the Wizengamot. In the end it will be us who decide your verdict and I will see to it, that the wizarding world will finally be wiped of the disgrace that you have been from the day you were born."

And the smile was back.

"Funny." Sirius said with a hard glint in his eyes. "And here I thought such a fine pureblood member of the wizard society like you would think it was a disgrace to run sniffling after every whim of an insane half-blood, licking his shoes. But maybe we just have different priorities."

He got another twitch from that.

"Speaking of your pathetic little baby brother, Black?" Lucius said, smiling through his teeth. "The little weakling who couldn't stomach real power? Do you know he wet his pants at the end? Do you dream of his cries for his big brother to help him?"

Sirius made a move as if to lunge at Lucius, but something was holding him back. Restrictive spells designed to keep the prisoner in the bed. His hands clenched into fists around the sheets. "Were you there?" he growled and had Malfoy been a lesser man, he would have sullied his own robes under the hate-filled stare directed at him. As it was it just aroused an answering glint in the icy pale eyes, as they studied the younger wizard, bound to the bed, chest heaving and silky black hair hanging wild.

"Would you like to know, Black? How he died? His last words? If he thought of you? If he forgave you? Would you like me to tell you? I wonder what you would be willing to do for me in return."

Sirius forced himself to take a deep calming breath. He knew what Lucius was up to. "You don't know anything," he said after a moment of silence, and his voice was low and firm. "Nothing you have to say is of any interest to me. So why don't you stop wasting both our time and scuttle off to that harpy you call wife and let me get my beauty sleep?"

To his utter dismay, Lucius Malfoy laughed. "Well you most certainly need it. Very well. We'll see each other soon enough I imagine. Just remember, Sirius, in the end it will be me tipping the scales."

And then the blond wizard turned towards the door. When he opened it, he distinguished the lights with a flick of his wand. But before he walked out, in the renewed darkness of the room, Sirius heard him whisper.

"Does it eat you up, that you will never know?"

-xox-

It was late already, far beyond the boys bed time, when Harry carefully snuck down the staircase. He was really thirsty and thought he might be able to get a glass of water without anybody seeing him. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were still up and talking in the living room. Harry could see the sliver of light illuminating a narrow stripe of the floor in the hall. There seemed to be a third person in the room, because there was another male voice, which Harry didn't know. He was just about to scurry past the door, when the foreign voice said something that made him freeze immediately.

"Really? He kidnapped Harry Potter?"

"Haven't you read the papers, Bill? It was all over them." Mr. Weasley's voice.

"Not in Egypt, it wasn't. Only the escape. But it didn't make the front page either. They have their own problems down there. Why should they care if a prisoner escapes in England?"

"Because he is dangerous! Almost as much as You-know-who!" Mrs. Weasley's voice this time.

"I highly doubt that. He was not much older than I am now, when he was arrested. You think he held the same power like the darkest wizard of the age? That's the Prophet spraying nonsense, Mum!"

"Well, he was powerful enough to blow up an entire street and callous enough to take that poor boy out of his home and beat up his muggle uncle. He was on the run with Harry for almost four months! The poor boy is traumatized!"

"Hm. Dumbledore seems to believe differently though, doesn't he? Still, it's all a little strange don't you think? I always thought the prisoners in Azkaban go mad almost immediately? So how did he manage all that? How did he escape in the first place? He was there for seven years!"

"He has gone mad! From what I gather, he actually attempted to raise Harry! Putting all kinds of nonsense in the boys head. No wonder he is so timid. Can you imagine what it must be like to live with a madman like Black? Thank god they found him!"

There was a little laugh coming from the stranger. "Well, there was a time, when I would have given anything to be raised by Sirius Black!"

If Harry hadn't already been intrigued by the stranger until then, he certainly was now. Quietly he sneaked closer to the door and listened.

"What!"

"I remember him, you know. Sirius. He used to hang out with Uncle Fabian and Uncle Gideon." A strange sound like a choked sob came from the room. It sounded like Mrs. Weasley. But it was the stranger who went on, sounding wistful. "I remember once, when I was at their place for the weekend, he came around. They were charming this muggle box, that shows those moving pictures and we were watching the whole evening and ate exploding popcorn. It was great. And then the next day, he let me ride on his motorbike. It could fly, you know. God, I thought he was the coolest!"

"How can you even say something like that, Bill! Godric's hat! You are talking about a mass-murderer!" Mrs. Weasley cried.

"Fly? Really?" Mr. Weasley spoke up again, sounding very eager. "They don't fly normally, do they?"

"Arthur!"

"No, he charmed it," the stranger said, obviously amused. "He took me for a ride. Just a short one, but it was great! Don't you remember I wished for a flying motor-bike the next Christmas?"

"I can't believe you did something so irresponsible and dangerous! And he! With a little boy! I would have killed him, if I had known! But that is exactly the attitude of all of the Blacks. They never cared about the law or about what was right. Up to their necks in the Dark Arts, those. They only ever did what they wanted and what served their own goals. It should not have come as a surprise that he turned out just the same!"

"Mum! Don't you think there is a difference between charming a muggle motor-bike and mass-murder? That he did the first doesn't mean he did the latter..."

"There is evidence, Bill. And just because he took you flying on a motor-bike and charmed a ten-year-old with being 'cool' doesn't make him a good person, I'm sorry."

"No. But he was kind to me. I was an over-eager ten year old boy, who hero-worshipped him and was probably rather annoying. And he took the time to explain stuff and talk to me, not just at me. He was what... twenty back then? Most wouldn't have cared less about the bothersome nephew of their friends. And he was friends with Gideon and Fabian, and they were the best, and they didn't make friends lightly."

"He deceived them. Like he deceived everybody back then. Like he deceived the Potters. If it wasn't for him, they could still be alive!"

The last was almost shouted, and the silence that followed was heavy. Harry didn't even dare to breath.

"Are you talking about the Potters or Gideon and Fabian?" the other, Bill, asked quietly after a while.

"He was the spy in the Order! They were ambushed! Outnumbered! They didn't even stand a chance!" It was clear, that Mrs. Weasley was crying by then, as her words became choked. "And he would have known! Maybe he even planned it! How can you defend the man who killed your uncles!"

TBC

A/N: Okay. I'm not sure what to think about this. And you? What do you think?

Reviews are my cookies. Give the author cookies. She needs them really bad.

Bloom: I think hating Molly is okay at this point. It is expected. ;) Tommy Boy probably won't decide his 'heart's desire' is to live a secluded life and tend sheep. Ah, one can hope. And PLEASE never be afraid to give your opinion. There's no way you could make a bigger fool out of yourself than me and my abhorrent commas. Bisous en retour! HebHibHob: Happy to be making your day! Call me awesome again and you make mine! :) lunapia: Thanks for your comments! No, Molly doesn't know all that happened to Harry. She thinks he is this shy and flighty because he was kidnapped and well, obviously the muggles couldn't be to great or Harry would stay with them. But she doesn't know the details. llcampbell: You are VERY welcome! I love you too! And once more, sorry for the torture! Frankie: Hey. Thank you so much. I'm glad the emotions get through in my writing. And do you really think I would keep them apart forever? Mary: Didn't you tell me you got an account? Lol! Well, I'm really glad you don't think I'm bashing Molly. I was a little worried. I totally think she acts with good intention. But a lot of them pave the ways to hell. Your request about Peter? Might just get granted. wordstopen: Very good. If Remus is investigated he won't qualify. So we will have to see what's up with that, won't we? Next chapter. ;) R: Glad you liked TP and like this so far. Like always I'm doing my very best with updates. Really. I'm not lazing around in a deck-chair or anything. Shana: Thank you. Happy to hear that! rosesxnxrain's sister: Thank you for your review. Glad you liked.

I really hope I haven't forgotten anybody! The new message-system of the side mixed up everything. But I love ALL your reviews! Thank you so much! And now: Give me more! Pretty, pretty please...?