A/N: and the story continues…

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Very well then. I better get going. Molly's been expecting me for dinner. Is there any thing else you consider important to tell me?" his blue eyes shone through his glasses as if he was looking right through Draco.

Draco thought of all the things that was bugging him at the moment: his death eater baggage, the grim, his bleak future, the terrible loneliness he felt inside, the attitude of the weasleys, the words of a certain brown eyed, brown haired girl…

"Don't think so," he answered dryly.

"Alright then. I'll see you soon, Mr. Malfoy…" with a nod and a twisted smile, Dumbledore turned from him and climbing the stairs, exited through the library doors.

The minute his bright blue cloak disappeared from sight, Draco leaned back into the chair with a sigh. That man had managed to ring out his self-image. What was he going to do next? Draco couldn't tell – tricky man that was Dumbledore…

Chapter - 3: A Visit From An Old Friend

Draco awoke to the sound of a dozen heavy volumes of books being thudded onto the table.

He rubbed his eyes groggily with a tired hand and laid back in the squishy armchair in which he had dozed off the other night.

The sunbeams filtering in through the windows fell right across his face, chasing away the impulse to lie back and continue his rest. It brought heat to his contour and he yawned and adjusted his vision to the bright haze of morning light which filled the room…

Stacks of what appeared to be reading manuals piled up in different spots in the library. Erudite volumes of magical encyclopedias were lying on the floor in definite sections and a thousand and one unopened cardboard boxes were placed in the rivets in between.

Was some sort of rearrangement going on? The library he had known yesterday to be so neat and welcoming was now a mess with papers and books scattered all over the rugs and carpets. The books he had chosen for his reading at night were also missing.

Draco stood up and scanned the large room.

There in the corner of the library, he spotted a mass of brown hair leaning down into the bottom shelf of one of the bookcases. A scowl came over his lips.

It was Granger.

She was engaged in pulling out some leather-covered handbooks and skimming through them as if she'd been looking for some particular detail. She hadn't noticed him when he came to stand behind her.

"And what do you think you're doing?"

The startled girl dropped the book and turned back sharply, a light blush painted across her cheeks. "Oh, you're awake," she said, hastily reaching for the book and placing it aside. "Well, I – I was just rearranging this place."

She directed her gaze to the books on the table as she told him.

"It's been used for ages and the previous owners have not been following proper order – I found some of the books to be out of place. Dumbledore ordered a few new prints and he's asked me to keep it here, so I'll have to make room for that." she shrugged, looking back to him.

"- and why exactly are you wasting your time doing this little rearrangement thing when I'm just going to be messing up the whole place again after my reading?" he asked, cocking his eyebrows and leaning on the bookcase.

Hermione pursed her lips. "I'm doing it because Dumbledore told me to do so. And because it'll allow me to leave the library in peace. The books were getting all mouldy and needed some dusting…"

Draco's scowl dropped even deeper. Memories from the previous night flooded his mind. His instinctive dislike for the man returned in full swing. "Why do you always listen to what Dumbledore says?" he said with a scathing pitch. "He's getting old – I suppose his brains are rotting inside his skull…"

Hermione, dusting her hands, got to her feet and faced him. She looked at him earnestly. Draco noticed that the brown of her eyes appeared to be bigger and more soulful in the shade. They looked like deep, dark depths, opened by subtle frames of long lashes which curved at the corners, accentuating their naturality.

"He may be old, Malfoy. But he's the only chance we've got against - against You-Know-Who," she said. "He's the only one You-Know-Who ever feared. Without him, we're just a band of skilled, but useless aurors hanging on what we think is 'real' evidence. We couldn't possibly advance in bringing down the dark side."

"And what about your Potter? Isn't he the one who really stands between the Dark Lord coming back into power?" he asked loftily, earning him a sigh from Hermione, who shifted towards a nearby table and began to leaf through the books on top.

"Harry's there all right. He is going to be the one who'll ultimately fight You-Know-Who. But he can't just go out there and fight without any guidance from a reliable source," she said, "and that's why we need Dumbledore."

"You seem to have very little faith in the abilities of your best friend," smirked Draco, drawing closer.

At his words, Hermione turned around sharply. "don't mistake my words, Draco," she said in warning, "I have firm faith in Harry's abilities to defeat You-Know-Who, but I'm just saying that he shouldn't get carried away with his past or emotions, maybe he should start listening to what others say, especially Dumbledore."

The fire that burnt on her cheeks was as visible as the morning sun. Another effect of the natural day light, Draco guessed, because it looked appealing and fierce on her.

With a wider smirk, he continued, "He hasn't quite grown up, has he? Potter? Still needs his headmaster's protection wherever he goes?"

"It's for his own good," she sighed and returned to the books. "Harry's really impulsive at times. If he doesn't learn to control his temper and deal with angst and feeling, he might end up right in the very clutches of the deatheaters…"

"And that's where you come in, right?"

Hermione turned around to be face-to-face with Draco at an intimidatingly close distance. Upon the realization of the fact, she stepped back and hit the tableside.

"I mean, you are, of course, the one who takes away all his worries and relaxes him right before the big fight and all, aren't you?" he asked, narrowing his eyes to cold grey slits. There was a sharp edge to his voice which highlighted his utter dislike for their relationship. "-the one who he always calls on for support."

"Well, yes, I am the one he calls on for support, since I'm his friend and all-"

It was quite hard to talk to him with the alarmingly close distance between them. Hermione had to stumble in her words.

"oh, come on!" he cut in, "I've seen you two before the quidditch matches, hugging and kissing, acting like you were some homeless kids on the street!"

"What?" cried Hermione with obvious surprise and indignation. Her cheeks flushed darker and she said, "We did not hug and kiss before matches!! And most of all, we did not act like homeless kids-! And how dare you say something so utterly false and outrageous right to my face!"

"-don't deny it, Granger. There's something going on between you and Potter, isn't there?" Draco asked in a voice dried of emotion. He didn't know why he asked that – but he just knew that right when she had mentioned the scar head's name, he'd developed a sudden itch in the palm, a kind of irritation words could hardly describe. He tried to picture them together – and something stirred inside him that made him want to shred the image in his mind…. He guessed it was just that he wanted to confirm whether his notions were true…

Taking a closer look, Draco found her to be humiliated far too much for words to describe. His lips curled in a twisted smirk. So, it was true…

"There's nothing going on between me and Harry, we're just good friends. And by the way, if there was anyone who did really act homeless at Hogwarts, it was you, Malfoy," she told him, folding up her hands in front and giving him a defiant stare.

The smirk on his face faded and for a minute, he was really unsure about whether he should smack her or hex her. And he was saved making the choice by a voice from the stairs.

"Hermione?"

Both of them looked up to find Harry standing at the top landing. He was giving them odd looks, and then pointing to the doorway, saying, "we were wondering...you missed breakfast."

"Oh," Hermione blushed harder. She didn't know why she was blushing so much.

She looked at Draco – he was glaring, grey eyes darkened and clouded.

Confirmed, he thought.

She looked back at Harry and shouted, "Sorry, had work to do! The library renovation you know…"

The black haired boy nodded and urged her to come up the stairs. Hermione, then turned to Draco and asked, "Won't you be coming?"

"I'm not hungry," he answered, sourness coming off the tip of his tongue.

"Fine," said the girl, and walked off to her friend.

Draco's eyes trailed behind her all the way until she was out the door, followed by Harry, who had been watching him with a serious look on his face. He too disappeared through the doorway only after sending him a heated glare and a frown.

Once they were gone, Draco found himself alone in the room. He shifted his weight from one foot to another, suddenly finding the place to be all still and quiet…the curtains moved just a little in the frail wind and a couple of floorboards creaked, but that was all the noise and movement he sensed. The room reminded him of a ghost's attic, full of boxes and abandoned materials enveloped in deathly silence…

He sighed and sat down in one of the armchairs, lips drawn into a thin, straight line…

(xxx)

"Early morning chat with Malfoy? Pleasant way to start a day, isn't it?"

Hermione rolled her eyes at her friend. "We were just talking," she said, "About Dumbledore and stuff…and about other crazy stuff…" she mumbled in a voice that Harry could not hear.

"How's he fitting in?" asked the black-haired boy, sounding unconcerned.

"Dunno, but I think he's taking it well so far – in the sense that he hasn't hexed anyone till now! I wonder how he can stand being in a house with his enemies-"

"Hermione-" Harry stopped her in mid-conversation and came face-to-face with her. "I've got something to ask you: when you were there in the Circle's headquarters, did you see Malfoy show his arm or anything? What did he do to prove that he was a deatheater?"

"Come to think of it, I don't remember him showing them his arm. He just produced a roll of parchment, which I'm guessing was some kind of fake, probably jinxed contract Dumbledore made," she said, trying to remember the incident. "Why'd you ask, Harry?"

"Don't you think it's a little weird to have Voldemort's prison guards release a high security prisoner on grounds of a fake contract? I mean, they are not dumb. We know that." Harry's tone was dead serious and he sounded more than just anxious. Hermione could sense that he was up to something. "Won't they be able to detect something like a fake contract?"

Hermione shrugged, "I-I suppose they could-"

"Somehow, Hermione," stated Harry forcefully, his green eyes flashing, "I don't think it was the contract Dumbledore gave him that he produced."

"But he'd get caught if he simply made up another one, wouldn't he? Dumbledore worked a couple of special spells on this one and I don't think it would have been easy to reproduce…"

Hermione paused. "Harry…" she came to a conclusion that caused her deep dread. "Harry, do you think he made another deal with You-Know-Who…? You know, like a real deal?"

She bit her lips as her friend sighed.

"I don't know," he replied slowly. "But I've got a feeling…"

(xxx)

They entered into the kitchen where Mrs. Weasley was found cleaning up after breakfast. She looked up when she spotted Hermione. "Goodness Hermione, where were you?" she shot at her immediately with concern. "We sent Ron looking for you! He couldn't find you."

"Well, I can bet Ron to be saying that! There's was a giant, brown spider on the door of the third floor corridor. He would have been too freaked to go past it."

She smiled as Harry muttered, "typical," and took a seat at the end of the long wooden table.

"You know," said Mrs. Weasley as she fetched a bowl and poured in some porridge, "I think it's that other boy who's been plotting these things."

"Who? Malfoy?"

"Precisely!" she brought Hermione her breakfast and laid it down on the table. The smell of hot porridge filled the air and Hermione took in a long deep whiff of it.

"Why do you say that, Mrs. Weasley?" she asked, taking a spoon in between her fingers and prodding the contents of the bowl.

"She thinks he sparked your cat into dashing through the table the last time," said Harry tonelessly from beside her. "She's even holding him responsible for replacing the salt with detergent. It made her foam at the mouth – literally."

Hermione laughed slightly.

"Oh, tush, Harry!" said Molly, her cheeks going a tad bit red. She then turned to Hermione with an expression of disapproval. "I really don't trust that boy…"

This cut short Hermione's laughter. She stirred the spoon idly in the porridge, watching it swirl.

"He's staying strictly on Dumbledore's orders," continued Mrs. Weasley, "and you wait and watch! - the minute this war is over, he's going straight back to where he belongs!"

"But the Malfoy manor is destroyed, isn't it?" asked Hermione, feeling the harshness in the older woman's voice.

Molly raised her eyebrows, distraught written all over her features. "Is that so?" she asked, placing her hands on her hips and readying for a fight. "Well, he definitely doesn't get to stay around here though."

"…not that he'd want to," added Hermione with a pursed scowl.

It was that particular moment that Draco chose to walk in, halting the conversations. He looked around at the people in the room, curious as to why they were all staring at him.

He turned towards Mrs. Wealsey. She was holding a large wooden spoon in her hand, beating it slowly against her palm and glaring at him. "Come for breakfast?" she asked coldly.

He grunted something in response and walked towards the counter. Mrs. Weasley thought better not to acknowledge his presence, for her sake at least. Giving Harry and Hermione knowing looks, she shook her head and returned to the morning chores.

Hermione watched Draco reach for a bowl and fill it up with porridge. Half of her mind was thinking about what Mrs. Weasley had said earlier, about him playing pranks in the house, and the other half was reeling over his appearance.

-there was something very intriguing about him. The utmost coolness and composure of his demeanor, the sickly pale skin, rise of cheekbones. Most of all, the eyes that lighted a shady grey in the sunlight reflecting through the counter glass.

She was caught off guard when he looked her way, and she almost jumped when Harry touched her arm, reminding her to eat.

"Oh, yeah - sorry," she muttered quickly and to cover up for her embarrassment at being caught staring at Malfoy, she cleared her throat and showed Harry quite clearly that she was all set to eat...

(xxx)

Draco had his eyebrows raised high over his forehead. In due time, a smirk slowly crawled onto his face, accompanied by a small laugh. The mudblood had been caught staring! – At him, by him! That was a pretty picture, wasn't it?

He couldn't help but take out some sickly pleasure at being treated that way, all because he was simply beautiful – pardon, good-looking. Okay, so maybe there was a bit of scrutiny and suspicion hanging in her gaze, but still, he knew that his charms had worked on her.

And now, she was trying to cover it all up, by returning to her breakfast, with the big brother Potty by her side! Imagine the nerve – sit with your friend and stare at your enemy. Hahahaha. Talk about loyalty! - This had to go down in the book of Hermione Granger's Greatest Faults and Mishaps.

With a wide grin, Draco took his bowl and went out the room.

He went into one of the empty halls and sat down in an armchair to have his breakfast. The satisfaction from the staring incident in kitchen still hadn't come off when suddenly, a smearing pain shot through his neck and into the back of his skull.

"ow!-" he was about to say, but before he got the words out, another spasm of seizure like pain caught him at the back of his shoulders and transcended into head muscles.

The bowl dropped from his hands and crashed onto the floor, the plain porcelain shattering into pieces.

Draco took his head in his hands, shutting his eyes close and trying hard not to scream, for the pain, which was immense, began to traverse down into his body. No sooner had a minute passed, the seizure took control of his whole system, gripping him in hot, ravaging pain.

The pain then turned into anger. Blood-boiling anger. Fury.

Draco felt the binds of control he'd imposed on his mind break. Shivers pummeled his body. He fell over, and fainted.

(xxx)

He awoke to a haze of light, faces and red colour. His blurry vision allowed him to see just the patches of black for eyes and the certain outlines for chins and jaws. There were definitely a few Weasleys out there.

"He's awake, mom!" said a high-pitched female voice. The voice pierced through the complete silence of the room, causing his eardrums to throb painfully.

"Is he, dear? Tonks come quickly!!" came another voice from somewhere on his left.

Draco closed his eyes, sensing movement around him. Where was he? He couldn't think. His mind was drained. His head felt light and unstable.

"Move aside, move aside," came a quick bity voice, followed by the sound of shifting feet. "Come on, now."

"Ron, she asked you to move-"

At once, his ears picked up the voice. He recognized this voice. It was Granger's. She was here, was she?

He felt someone hold him up by the shoulders and lean his back against a firm, soft surface. They called his name twice. When he refused to open his eyes, Tonks who had come down beside him, slapped him lightly on the cheek.

"Malfoy, wake up. You're fine," she said loudly to make sure he could hear her.

Draco opened his eyes and stared out blankly at the nearest face. He could make out a mop of fuscia on the top, indicating it to be the colour crazy auror, Tonks. She was peering at him strangely, holding his face by the jaw and turning it left and right.

"Is he okay?" asked Hermione.

"Seems alright to me," replied Tonks, who pulled on the skin underneath his eye. She checked for blood content and let go, giving him another small slap to awaken him completely...

The blurry faces began to develop. The first face he saw after his vision cleared was Harry's. The black-haired boy was standing in front of him with his hands folded, looking down at him through his round-framed glasses with no readable expression. The two youngest Weasley children were on either sides of him, giving him shifty looks.

I know you would have liked me dead, weasel, but you see, you aren't that lucky.

He managed to get back enough energy to form offense and defense lines, but still unbearably tired too voice them. His whole body felt like it had undergone some kind of shock treatment that raked off him all thought and energy.

A glass of water was given to him by Mrs. Weasley. He took the glass from her and brought it to his lips. As he drank the cool water, his parched throat seemed to dry out even further. "Thanks," he said, laying it on the floor next to him.

Mrs. Wealsey nodded slowly, struck by the word of gratitude. She reached for the glass and put it away.

"What happened?" he asked, wiping his lips with the sleeve of his robe.

"You tell us what happened," said Tonks placing her hands on her hips. The auror was not smiling; she looked a bit intimidating, with the fuscia hair, the fat nose and the demanding stare.

"I don't know," he said tonelessly.

"Well, then, how do you expect us to know what happened?" snapped the auror. "The last thing we saw was you doubling over and passing out before you hit the floor."

"You were bleeding, Malfoy," Hermione said. She was sitting beside him with her hands on her lap, looking at him with concern. "You were bleeding from the nose. That's not a good sign."

"Really?" he asked, trying to sound surprised.

"We heard the sound of something breaking, came out to see you on the floor, shivering. There was blood running from your nose and all over your mouth. We were starting to get worried because you went into a fit of some sort…." she stared at him, as if wanting to see through his mind. "Try remembering what was going through your head at that time."

"I told you I don't know what was going on," he repeated with a little more force.

But though he didn't know what was happening, he had recognized the feeling of blood boiling in a state of complete turmoil – he recognized anger. Right before he passed out, the smearing pain had changed into an uncontrollable fury, heating up his body and throwing him into a state of living hell. He had experienced an unmistaken, infernal blaze of fury that fired through his soul and lit up every fiber of his being with hatred…

But how was it that he felt anger and hatred without even being provoked? If he could recall correctly, there wasn't any cause for him to exhibit such strange behavior…

He looked scornfully at the faces staring at him. It shamed him to know that they'd seen him without his self-control. Hell, god alone knows what not he had done in the moment of weakness!

"Please, just try to remember," Hermione urged him again, but her effort was wasted. He didn't try. Instead, he got to his feet by pushing up against the armchair for support. Without a single word to anyone in the room, he stepped over the rug and walked out the door.

(xxx)

The sun was setting low in the afternoon sky, dissolving a crispy orange colour into the clouds over the rooftops, its peripheral ring bent like an archway above the trees at the far distance. Draco folded his hands in front and placed them over the windowsill. The calls of wild birds flying west echoed over the houses. A white delivery truck rolled by on the empty street. The sound of its engine rumming became fainter and fainter as it wheeled further down the road. Draco watched these sights with an uninterested sparkle in his eyes.

The afternoon had some unexpected visitors: aurors from Romania, the Hagrid oaf and his giantess had paid their visits. Draco had enjoyed their suspicion, rudeness and insolence so much, to such a great degree that he couldn't have been found wanting for more, and he ultimately had to shut himself up in the library to escape their vicious attacks against him and his father.

Draco leaned against the windowsill and took in a long waft of cool, relaxing air. He could still hear their grunts from downstairs, talking as if they were to win the war tomorrow.

Honestly, what did they think about themselves? They were giants, a menace to wizard kind, dumb, stupid, and everything synonymous to that. There wasn't even enough respect to go around in the ministry for them to get a decent job!

"Pathetic excuses for lumps of meat! I'd show them where they're supposed to be standing! Stupid creatures, trying to tell me where I should be-"

His words and curses were cut short when he heard the sound of the door close behind him.

He turned around to see his potion master, Serverus Snape, standing at the top of the stairs, his face ashen. Having spent most of his time at Hogwarts with him, Draco could make out that there was something bothering him.

"Snape," said Draco, breathing slow and deep. "What brings you down here? Aren't you supposed to be out there with the second Weasley?"

Serverus stared down at the young Malfoy, a look of utter displeasure forming over his features. "What use is it to keep tabs a flimsy dragon-slayer when all we require is in this very house?" asked the professor, fixing up the room with soundproof spells. "…possibly planning for next Christmas and worrying about the likes of his friends, unaware of the war that has taken a new turn…"

He came down the stairs slowly and stood beside him, keeping his gaze on Draco all along. "You know I'm talking about Potter, don't you?"

Draco smirked smugly. "Why would I doubt that? He is anyways the most unworthy hero of all wizard time! Born with a scar that doesn't even do good to his face! I'd like to see him stand up to the Dark Lord this time!"

"Which brings us to the point, Draco… I'm afraid your – your act of disloyalty has reached the Dark Lord," said Snape.

"Has it, really?" repeated Draco with calm composure and least interest, though the words shook him on the inside.

The professor was watching him very carefully now, searching every minute detail of his face. "It has. And He is very, very angry with you."

"Good."

The professor was startled by his reaction. In all his life, he'd never seen anyone respond in such a way to the mention of the Dark Lord's anger, except maybe Dumbledore. And he refused to believe that this teenaged boy was brave enough to oppose the Dark Lord's great powers which mere, condescending mockery…

"He's coming after you, you know that don't you?" continued the professor in a staid tone. "And when you fall into his hands, he's going to kill you. You know that too, don't you?"

"I know," replied Draco coolly.

The professor scowled. It was sad to know that someone with so much potential and influence was turning away from the path set for him – that too, to die a most painful death.

Sighing, he asked, "Draco, do you remember anything of what I've taught you?"

"Of course I remember. Everything, from the tardy night lessons, to the beatings, to my father's requests and my mother's persistence. I remember everything, Serverus."

Snape's face darkened partly due to the fact that his harsh, almost cruel, punishments were still fresh in the boy's mind, and partly due to the fact that his lessons had gone awaste.

He asked him if it were his final decision to turn away from the Dark Lord.

And when Draco replied that it was, the professor, both disappointed and furious, broke out in a snarl, "young boy, what do you think you are doing with your life? Don't you see, you are going to die – By joining the other side, you've betrayed Him! That too, after pledging your alliance!"

Draco's lips curled, but he kept his silence. He knew this was coming. He knew he'd have to face the fury of his teacher someday. Allowing his words to wash over him, Draco listened half-heartedly.

"You're a fool," spat Snape, "working for the order will give you nothing you desire. Not even a peace of mind."

"I know what I'm doing," Draco said slowly.

"No, you don't!" shouted Snape, his face livid, "the consequences of your action is death, and had you known it, you would have never chosen to turn away! Tell me, who's been putting you up to this?"

"No one's been putting me up to this, Snape," Draco told him, shooting him a cold, grey, almost stabbing look from his side. "It was solely my decision…in fact, it's been my decision all along…"

There was the firm, resolute determination of a fighter that rested beneath his shallow depths – and Snape had seen it for the first time. His fury subsided into a depression caused by disappointment.

"Just tell me why," he said in a low, defeated tone. "Tell me why you're inflicting harm on yourself like this… I deserve to know."

Draco stared at the man, long and hard. It was true that he deserved to know. Serverus was the one who had given him a base in the dark arts, trained him in Occluumency(along with Umbridge) and other forms of important magic. He had seen to it that Draco knew himself and his magic thoroughly. He moulded Draco to serve the dark side. It was with his help that Draco had gained the very first access to the Dark Lord and to the reign of Power. His every expectation was inside Draco - to see him as a faithful servant to the Dark Lord, like himself…

"You want to know why I broke away from the Dark Lord?" said Draco with newfound determination and courage surfacing in him. "Fine then. It was because I realized the irony in serving someone and gaining power."

"You are serving Him for a greater purpose. You are using your life for His benefit."

"Well, I don't do things for other's benefits, be it whosoever…and I don't think that there is a greater purpose in my life for which I should work. Anyways, we're all just weary travelers with destinations that lay buried under the soil. I just want to get there some day, whether I accomplish anything or not…"

Snape sighed, realizing that what the boy what the boy most wanted. He also understood why he'd chosen his own path. "I understand. You don't have faith."

"I'm afraid I haven't," said Draco cuttingly.

"Fine. Then, I'm wasting my time over here…"

Draco looked into the lifeless black eyes boring into his, gleaming unsightly. He could see that Snape had received a terrible thwart.

The last time their eyes met, his was full of loathing and hatred like Draco had never seen before. Before he left, Snape paused at the bottom of the stairs. With his back turned to Draco, he said, "I hope you know that the minute I step out this room, we will be on opposite sides."

Draco sucked in the emotion that began to surface at the mention of those words and shook his head. "Yes, I know," he said tonelessly.

"And you do know that the next time I see you, Draco, I'll kill you."

Draco nodded as the professor climbed up the stairs. "I know," he said once the door closed. "I know…."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A/N: and thus, Draco's life gets all the more twisted with Snape threatening him and all…the story is definitely moving. things get going to get darker and deeper…so, be prepared!

A couple of people had pointed out some spelling mistakes and stuff in the first two chapters – thanks guys! I've corrected them.

And, oh yeah!

Announcement: I finished this story! on Sunday, 29th October, 12:28 AM. yay:-)

Do tell me what you thought about this chapter, whether it was up to your expectations or not? Whether you were able to catch the flow of the story and all and I'll make changes accordingly.

Next chapter sneak preview: some legilimency, rainy weather and hopeless hopes and a talk about the redemption our favorite character so needs….

Buh-bye!

-ELX