Today, mysterious somebody, I think I will call you by name, at least once.

Because, frankly, you have a lovely name and I need to come to terms with the fact that, even if it would not have been my own choice.

Even if I did not have any role in the choosing it.

Even if the choice itself seems like a direct dig at me.

But we shan't talk about that now, Estelle (hah, that wasn't so bad) because, if you are still reading this it seems likely that you are interested in the story, not my personal opinions.

So I will continue with my tale.

…..

"This time," Lee told me, her head resting in the crook of my arm, "if you spread any rumours about me, I will jinx your balls off."

I frowned, shifting slightly so I could look down at her, "sorry? What is this? A pre-nuptial agreement?"

She raised an eyebrow, "what is this?" she mimicked, "a proposal?"

I considered, then realized how my flippant comment could have been misinterpreted, "oh." I said lamely, "well….?" I turned to her and waggled my eyebrows.

Lee looked unimpressed. "You're changing the subject." She said, bored.

"What? No. I hear Vegas is very romantic this time of year."

"You have no idea what 'Vegas' is." Lee observed, apparently disinterested in the discussion.

And of course, she was correct. "it's a thing… of some sort." I said vaguely. "It helps muggles get married quickly." I said with a shrug. "I think probably, it's a machine? Or some sort of medicine?" She shot me a look of disdain, "oh," I snorted, "is my description of a marriage machine not romantic enough for you? When you make that face, I almost believe you would jinx my balls off."

I was reasonably proud of myself for proving I'd been listening to her threats, but Lee was unimpressed. In fact, she looked fairly serious, "I have done it before," she told me solemnly, "and I would do it again."

I smiled slowly, turning my head to look at the ceiling. "Liar. You would not. Think of the waste."

She considered this before giving an unconcerned shrug, which made me slightly annoyed until I saw that her devilish grin was on her face again. Hah. Funny. With a sigh, I tweaked her nose, and she punched me in the stomach.

And then we fell into silent companionship. I stroked a hand over her hair, and she closed her eyes, leaning into my hand. Thus unobserved, I examined her.

Her hair was a complete mess, tangled under my back, and wound around my fingers, and her lips were swollen. This made my temper rear a little. After all, her lips were swollen because she'd gone straight from kissing Shacklebolt to kissing me, which was pretty damn…..

"Has anyone ever told you that your face is easy to read?" Lee was staring up at me from under half closed eyes. She looked amused.

"No." I told her honestly. "Is it?"

She rolled her eyes. "Very. And you shouldn't think thoughts like that about me. From the look on your face, the stress of it might give you an aneurysm."

I gritted my teeth, "you should be flattered that I'm bothered enough to get jealous."

"Oh, I am." Lee said, bitingly sarcasm, "I thank fate every day for bringing us to each other. Look at me, the lucky girl who landed a boy who gets jealous."

I sighed, "right, so you're not big on the whole 'jealousy' thing." I shrugged- could manage that. "So what am I supposed to think about you?"

Lee stretched her hands out before her, "I," she said plainly, "am a Goddess."

I snorted, "I didn't realize those girls were being literal when they said they liked boys to 'worship' them. What, were your other boyfriends considered priests or acolytes of the holy order of Aureile?"

As per usual, I hadn't really thought before speaking. But now, considering my words, I felt myself flinch. Other boyfriends implied that there was a current boyfriend. Which would be.. me?

Boyfriend. That was not a word I applied to myself pretty often.

Lee didn't look too thrilled by the implications of my statement either. Her brow furrowed, just slightly, and she slowly shifted further away from me.

I wasn't surprised by her sudden distance- the pair of us always read so deeply into things- of course she'd gotten the same impression from one vague sentence that I had.

It seemed that relationships were something the both of us would have to get used to. The question was could we get used to them?

And the other question- the one I was slightly ashamed of, as I glanced at the girl lying next to me, staring pensively at the ceiling- was; did Lee want to?

Did I want to? Or was this all just the aftermath of a particularly stellar snog? Was this the beginning of a relationship, or was it just sheer physical compatibility?

And, the question of all questions, how the hell do I figure out the damn answers?

"Chien?"

"Hmnn?" I said vaguely, still lost in my own musings.

Lee was watching me, apparently amused, "not that I don't appreciate the originality, really, I do. So many boys bother with romance and effort at this stage. Your method is refreshing, but the floor isn't really the most atmospheric place to begin… this."

More questions. What did she mean when by 'this'? Was that comment about romance a dig at me?

About then I realized how pathetic I was sounding, and pushed such thoughts aside. Damn it, I was Sirius Black, and Sirius Black didn't think about these things. No, these things just happened, and I went along with them- always with impeccable style and charm.

This was no different. I just had to let it play out.

I nodded, pleased with my revelation, and jumped to my feet. With another girl, I would have reached down and helped her up as well, but this was Lee Dahlquist, and I knew that she'd stand up just fine without me.

Which she did, and with considerably more grace than I had managed. As I watched, she met my gaze- nonchalance for nonchalance. I was struck by a sudden pang of empathy for my past flings- was this what it felt like to deal with me?

"So," I said, surprised by the awkwardness between us, and wanting to fill the silence. Lee said nothing, just waited for me to finish. The only problem was, I didn't know how to. This wasn't some slag- this was Lee, and I was sort of friends with her. What was I supposed to do now? What did she expect? I fell back on my understanding of the female mind. "Shall we go down by the lake?"

The lake was an intensely populated place on Sundays. Arriving there and snogging was Hogwarts couples' way of announcing themselves, and by suggesting we go, too, I was essentially asking her out- declaring my intentions, even. It was, I knew, what so many of my fleeting dalliances had dreamed I would ask. It was therefore what any girl would want.

I had naturally forgotten that Lee wasn't 'any' girl. God knows what she was, but it wasn't common or usual, and that was never clearer than just then, when she turned around and met my gaze. She looked so intense, so full of some unidentifiable emotion, something potent. And all I could say about it was that it wasn't positive, and it certainly didn't indicate that she was overly appreciative about the sacrifice I was making.

I amended, "why don't we just talk for a while?"

Lee scoffed, and just like that, her intense and unreadable demeanour from before disappeared, replaced by her normal, mocking self. "What makes you think I want to talk to you?" she demanded tauntingly, but her vicious smile was still on her face.

Throwing my hands in the air, I sighed. "Fine, Dahlquist," I said, "we'll just head off somewhere and snog then, shall we?"

She linked her arm with mine, "how rude." She muttered, sounding amused, "Sirius Black, I'll have you know that I'm not that kind of girl."

…

In case you've lost track of time (I've barely got a grip on the chronology of this, and I lived it) I am here currently nearing the end of my sixth year at Hogwarts.

And it scared the hell out of me. One way or another, this year was different to the others I had spent pretending to 'learn'. Of course, the workload I was churning out was about the same- close to nothing. I was practically professionally unproductive. I had a sort of aversion to work, like a cat to water. But every now and then, whether because Remus forced me or I was bored or I just wanted to shake things up a little, I would hand up an essay (quite late, of course). I was always rewarded by the shocked expressions of my professors- no, not shocked. Awed. They would pause, momentarily then, slowly, understanding would dawn on their faces along with something else; pride, fear, incredulity, disbelief?

It's the kind of expression you'd associate with a man finding out he's about to become a father. Sort of 'This is a monumental event- so monumental that I can't quite process it completely right now'.

In short, they'd go into shock.

This expression was becoming more and more commonplace as Remus forcedme to actually work for our second round of OWLS. He was, of course, worried about me. More worried than I was about myself.

Dear Remus. Always so motherly. He'd been badgering me for almost a year to decide what I wanted out of life, and I'd been driving him spare for almost a year by refusing.

And so, unable to inspire any sort of ambition in me, Remus fell back on his unfailing logic and decided I would just have to pass all my OWLs to leave my options open.

This wasn't going to be difficult, because I was (modesty not at all present) rather intelligent for my age. I had managed last year to scrape a reasonable number of OWLS, filling Remus with pride.

He'd have been less proud if he'd discovered that my study methods had consisted entirely of staring aimlessly at the clouds and listening to the sounds of sweet determination as Remus and Peter struggled through their texbooks.

Very affective, believe me. There is nothing so pleasant as relaxing amidst a group of frantically studying teenagers.

Of course, he would have been less impressed to note my study methods this time around. Namely revising my French grammar between kisses in the library.

I suppose that makes it sound as though Lee was truly awful for my studies. But she wasn't. Because as much as I liked her, I wanted to beat her more, and so as she began to (finally) put effort into her studies, I picked up the pace as well. And my competitiveness made her more competitive, and her competitiveness made me more competitive and so on.

We shocked the faculty by becoming brilliant seemingly overnight.

But OWLs? These OWLs? They were different. They were the build up for NEWTS, and I doubted I'd ever be ready to take on NEWTs. Somehow there was more pressure this year. Because, I suppose, the professors assumed that we liked our subjects enough to try- seeing as we chose them ourselves.

But I had pulled my subjects out of a hat- there was no real passion there, and so I could muster very little when it came down to revision. Lee was less than helpful, too. When she did condescend to study with me, she's amuse herself by ripping pages out of my textbooks and making them into origami hats for us.

And I'd scowl, and call her a slag, and she'd slap me and tell me I was a bore. And I'd say that she would end up a prostitute because she failed her OWLs for lack of studying. And she'd say that I would end up a prostitute because I failed my OWLs despite studying.

And then somehow our fight would escalate almost to blows, and then we'd be kissing, and then we'd be laughing, and the day would end with Lee teaching me how to make paper cranes using Lily's old Potions notes ('borrowed' of course without Lily's permission)

So you see, the realization that I had no clue where my life was going ceased to bother me perhaps a few weeks after I realized it. Lee had helped- the one time I'd truly panicked, she'd held my face in her hands, touched my forehead to hers, and said, "I thought 'Sirius Black' just 'went along' with these things." And then, more kindly, "you'll figure it out. You always do." And just to make sure we didn't end on too nice terms: "God knows how, you're such a buffoon."

And so, I decided to simply 'let it be'. James was similarly resigned to his fate, and while Remus and Peter poured over their old essays and scrolls and books one day by the lake, James turned to me and said, "Reckon it's Quidditch we need to be concentrating on, on a day like this. Fancy a quick game?"

It seemed like a good enough idea, until we reached the pitch.

Our plan had been to play by ourselves, seeing as the rest of the world was stressing about exams, while we were above such petty and pointless passtimes. James had reasoned that, even if a team had been present, they would allow us to practice with them, by virtue of our rascally charm.

But it wasn't a team practicing on the field, it was a seeker, just one seeker, and when I saw him, I wanted to turn around and go back. But James didn't know how much my family bothered me, and I didn't really want him to know. With the skewed logic only a teenager can muster, I thought that not liking being around my family made me appear weak.

"Ah, hey….Regulus, right?" James shot my brother a grin and zoomed onto the pitch. I followed him.

Reg's eyes narrowed when they fixed on me, but turned into slits in his head when they fixed on James.

I wondered briefly what James had done to merit such scorn. He was, after all, a bit of a bully, but amiable as could be since he and Lilly got a little closer. He hadn't laid a finger on Snape in months. Besides, could Reg really hold Snivellus' treatment against James? Especially seeing as it had been me who had encouraged all that.

There was a long and intensely awkward moment. Reg didn't speak. I didn't speak. James just sat there, grinning like an idiot. It must've been closing in on five minutes that we all just sat there on our brooms, bobbing silently in the breeze.

Reg really didn't want us there. He looked defensive and shocked. He looked like we were the last people in the world that he'd ever want to see.

My baby brother.

"What?" he asked, finally breaking the oppressive silence. James nudged me, and I saw that Reg had directed his question at me, which seemed a bit odd, considering that James had been the one to instigate conversation.

"We were thinking we'd get a bit of practice in." I said boredly, eyes scanning the stands with practiced nonchalance.

I could practically feel Reg's temper fraying, "oh, yeah? Well, the pitch is taken."

James looked mildly confused, "well, we wouldn't be looking to take up the whole pitch…..we'd use only half, less, maybe."

Then he shot a look at me, like I should help.

I didn't. Reg was my brother, and I had grown up with him. I'd been there when he'd said his first word ('Black', if you're wondering, mine was apparently 'no'). And I'd pushed him down a flight of stairs when he'd annoyed me, and I'd hugged him tightly when he'd had nightmares. But none of that meant I felt comfortable talking to him. I pretended not to see James' look and carefully examined my nails.

Eventually, Reg seemed to give up on me contributing anything useful to the conversation. "Piss off. The Pitch is taken." He snapped, wheeling his broom around.

James' face darkened, and with Chaser's reflexes, he quickly grasped the back of Reg's broom, stopping him from moving away. "Look, we wouldn't be taking up that much room….I'm sure we could share…."

Reg's eyes shot down to where James was touching his broom. He looked disgusted. Disdainfully, his gaze lifted to meet James'. "You sure?" he asked mockingly. Then his voice turned cold. "Think again. It's taken."

James took a few deep breathes, "look, kid, I really think…"

"Are you stupid? It's my pitch! Go bully a first year or something."

"Alright, mate, it's not your pitch…"

"My god. You are thick. Read my lips: this. Pitch. Is. Taken. Go. Screw. Yourself."

I could sense a storm brewing now, James' knuckles were white where he clutched his broom handle, and Reg's eyes were blazing. I could almost see myself poking out of them, waving frantically, as if to say 'see? See the resemblance? Yes? So stick up for me!' But Reg was being stupid and I wasn't going to go against James when James was right.

"Listen, greaseball," James' voice was menacing now, "why don't you leave the Pitch to the big boys now, and go play with some dollies or something?"

For the first time in a long while, I looked, and I mean really looked at my brother. He was only small in stature, very reedy looking, and he had recently developed some unfortunate acne, which sprinkled itself across his cheeks and forehead. Not like me. His hair was pretty greasy, I have to say, and hung down lankly on his cheeks, thin already, with no shine. Not like me. His head was way out of proportion to the rest of his body, and he with his long legs and arms and huge eyes, he put me in mind of some huge insect. Not like me. The only thing which was like me were his eyes, which were mine exactly. Just like Bella's. Just like my father's. I could never escape my family. They were there every time I looked in the mirror.

But my reflection held little other resemblance to Reg at first. Looking at him now, I could seethat.

I saw in that instant, another Snape. Next year, or maybe already, he would be teased by people like James and I. Were there some younger models of us wandering around the school as we spoke, pranking teachers and looking out for a misfit to mock?

The only thing which saved Reg from being taunted (behind his back) by James and I was the fact that he was my brother, but if James was stressed or irritated, he would bait anybody.

Please, mysterious somebody, don't think badly of James because he could be cruel (to your uncle, no less). Believe me when I say that James was only ever mean to those who were not Snape when he was stressed beyond belief, and being pushed past his limits. I actually have further insight into this now than I had when I was a kid, because I think now that James picked up on my feelings when it came to family, despite the fact that I never complained and only ever spoke of them jocularly. And James was very protective of me, so he naturally would have felt strongly toward my family, the only people who had ever managed to get under my skin.

In the muggle world, there is a super hero called Superboy, or something equally unimaginative. I know very little about him (Lily mentioned him once or twice) except that he has an odd idea of how underwear is intended to be worn by grown men, and that he is very strong except when confronted with this particular substance called Kryptonite, which weakens him instantly.

That is me, I think. My family is the Kryptonite, which enables even a baby to hurt me. I swear, one day, my family will be the death of me.

"So, bugman, are you going to get your arse off this field, or are we going to have to make you?"

We? My head snapped up.

"You?" Reg scoffed, "yeah, whatever, give it your best…."

"James, back off. Reg, grow up." I snapped finally. Both boys looked at me in confusion. My silence had made me blend into the background. Lesson learned- I hated the background. "You're both being stupid. Now, Reg can practice this end of the pitch. James, we'll go up the other end."

"Gonna take a lot of practice to make you any good." Reg spat. That was undeniably true.

"Well, Reggy boy, it will take a lot of practice to make you normal." I told him, "but maybe one day you'll get there." My comment was typical of me. Spoken casually, but biting and cruel.

And thoughtless. I hadn't thought- I hadn't thought about whom it was I was talking to, and now I regretted it.

Reg looked at me, disgust twisting his face, "you know what?" he said quietly, "you can have the pitch." Then he was gone.

James was ecstatic, but somehow, I was not, and after a few minutes, James figured out I wasn't in the mood and suggested we go in. Which we did. To my relief.

….

Snape has just claimed Reg's room. Supposedly he needs privacy to write something, which seems a laughable excuse, but true or false, his work has shifted me into my mother's bedroom, where Buckbeak is sitting on the bed, methodically tearing what is left of her doona into long strips.

Maybe he is making a nest? I'm not sure.

Anyway, apparently, though this is my house, Snape has priority over the rooms. And so, here I sit; wedged between the wardrobe, which is jolting sporadically in a most unsettling manner, and the bed, so I am constantly being showered in feathers. Thank you, Buckbeak.

Buckbeak, mysterious somebody, is my hippogriff. We are currently both fugitives from the law. Another parallel? We are both accused of endangering the lives of wizards. In his case, it was attempted. In my case, I am thought to have succeeded.

Interesting that I can now be almost nonchalant about this whole thing. I still remember that day, when it happened.

I'm not talking about that day, when I wandered around the ruins of their home, found their bodies, found their son. I try not to think about that day, try not to think about begging Hagrid to give me my godson, who already looked like James, and had smiled at me with eyes that looked like Lilly's. It is probably best that he said no.

I'm thinking about the day when James and Lilly sat me down, trying to look calm, and asked me if I would be their secret keeper. And I thought about it, bouncing Harry on my knee, and decided: No.

No, because I did not want that responsibility. I did not want that burden. I wasn't sure I could really handle it, after all, wasn't sure how I would do under torture, because I had what I considered a healthy aversion to pain.

And I told them this, and seeing that their faith in me was unshakable (not to mention unmerited) I suggested a decoy. Everybody would think that they would choose me, yes? They supposed this was true. So, I insisted, why not pull the prank of pranks, why not make the secret keeper instead someone who no one would suspect? Why not Remus, or, say, Peter?

Lily was skeptical, but James was elated. Brilliant, he thought, pure brilliance. Who would know?

Nobody, that's who.

Mia culpa. My fault. My pride. My foolishness.

So, I killed them. Seeing James' enthusiasm, I won Lily over, telling her that this method would make Harry that much safer, and she gave in, though even she, trusting as she was, could never quite abide Peter.

And better yet, we told no one of the swap. James was grinning like a twelve year old when the deal was done, and I was the only one who knew the truth, and their address, because we made Peter tell me.

Don't visit, though, I was warned, and I laughed along with James, while Lily suggested Remus be told as well, and Peter said, perhaps not, and I see now why he said that. But back then, I thought that maybe he just wanted to be the one included that time, he wanted to be the one to leave someone in the dark.

And so, Remus was not told, and by agreeing with Peter (perhaps because I was angry at Remus that day) I signed my own death warrant.

How different things would be if he had been told.

Can you imagine? What if I had suggested a double bluff, made Remus secret keeper? James would still be alive, Harry would be a normal child. Lily would be fussing over him and no doubt telling me epic stories of his grades and that every day. She used to send me letters detailing when and why he had wind, or how often he'd smiled that day. I still have some of them, somewhere. Harry and I would be less father/son combined with brothers and friends, and be more like comrades. We would have a common enemy; his parents, and I would let him come over my house to meet with his girlfriend or run away to me when he felt the need to appear rebellious.

Of course, I would tell James whenever this happened, because in truth I would be a double agent, playing both sides, and Harry would never have known.

But then, would Voldemort still be alive if James and Lily had not been found?

Would he still be at large? And if so, would James and Lily perhaps still be in hiding? Would Harry have even been allowed to go to Hogwarts, or would he have no girlfriends- no friends. Would he have been locked away and never even met another child?"

Would hundreds more people have died before Voldemort was taken down somehow. Would hundreds more families have been extinguished before he was stopped?

Would he even have been stopped?

Perhaps (and this is hard to say) things worked out the only way they could have. After all, if Voldemort had survived, how many more Sirius Black types would be half dead with sorrow at the loss of their friends?

Believe me, one Sirius Black is enough.

…

"Hello."

"Enough with the pleasantries."

Apparently agreeing with my gruff statement, Lee leant over and kissed me. It wasn't magical- in fact, considering that I was sitting down and she was standing behind me, it was upside-down- but it was nice and it made me feel a little better.

She sashayed around the chair and sat on its arm, leaning her head on mine.

I paused for a moment, waiting for her to ask if something was wrong, but then I remembered who she was, and decided that she would not. Because this was Lee, and she knew something was wrong without asking. I looked up at her and her eyes were full of knowing empathy and understanding. She would never look at me with sympathy, probably because she disliked feeling pitied as much as I did. But she knew how I was feeling inside.

"Saw Reg," I told her, and she ran a hand through my hair.

"He misses you, is all," she told me, sounding very wise, which made me smile. And then, remembering exactly whom she was talking to, she tacked on a hasty, "God knows why."

"Bitch." Was my answer, more out of habit than anything else. "He hates James," I observed, then I turned to her, "why does he hate James?"

She snorted delicately, "boys are very stupid when it comes to emotions," she told me sagely. I agreed completely, "he hates James because he thinks James had replaced him."

"That is stupid." I scoffed. "No wonder I didn't pick up on that. It is very very stupid. It's the stupidest stupid thing I've ever stupidly heard."

Lee gave me a look which clearly said, no you are stupid. Whether this was a reaction to my inability to understand Reg's emotional state or to the gibberish I'd just spouted, I wasn't sure.

But either way, I just looked right back at her. We fought all the time, just so you know. We didn't actually spend too much time being lovey dovey and romantic, most of the time we were together we were ripping into each other so hard that we came away wincing. Fighting for us seemed kind of like sex without the sex.

I could feel a fight coming on now. I was in a bad mood.

"Don't look at me like that," I told her.

Lee rolled her eyes, "don't do that," she said.

"What?"

"You always vent your anger on me." She snapped, "I enjoy our little… episodes.. but I'm not a punching bag. Go hit a wall if you're frustrated."

She had a point there.

"Hitting a wall isn't as fun."

Lee's eyes gleamed, "it is also a lot less painful."

This was probably true, I conceded, hooking an arm around her waist and pulling her onto my lap.

"Sirius? Sirius?"

"Shit." I said, fumbling round in my pocket for my mirror.

Lee gracefully slipped off my lap and went to look out the window.

I had it, "James?" I asked, staring into the mirror, "where are you?"

"Where are you?" James asked back, smiling crookedly, "and where is Lee?"

"Uh…." I glanced up at Lee, who shook her head once, "I don't know. Have you checked with Remus?"

Lee's eyebrows shot up into her hairline. Remus did not talk to her very often,

"No…..Lily wants her, something to do with some guy?"

Now I was curious, "a guy? What, is she dating someone?"

"Lee? Hell no. But some third years claimed they saw her snogging somebody in the library the other day."

James was moving, I was sure of it. The mirror was jolting from side to side, as though with steps, but James kept it trained so close to his face that I couldn't make out his surroundings. "Prongs, where are you?" I asked, slightly apprehensive. Lee didn't look too pleased either. "Prongs?"

"I'm…..where are you?"

I thought for a moment, "I'm in the library."

"Gosh. So am I! How…..coincidental."

Oh shit, I thought, lowering the mirror just as James edged around the bookcase which, so conveniently placed, made the small area into a tiny room.

"Hello, James." Lee smiled at him.

James nodded, "Lee. Oh, Lily really is looking for you."

Lee smiled again, "oh? I best not keep her waiting," she said, but, being Lee, then leaned back against the wall of books, watching us carefully.

James took this in his stride, "so, how long?"

I looked over at Lee, who shrugged, "ah, a couple of weeks?" I guessed.

Lee nodded.

James nodded.

We looked like those little dogs with the bobbing heads that muggles keep in their cars.

I found myself unconsciously nodding along, it was a strange, mindless experience for me, and I felt unable to break free of the sea of agreement.

Lee snapped out of it first, ceasing to nod. After that, the spell was broken, which made it a lot easier to talk.

James looked from Lee to I with a small smile on his face. There was nothing he loved more than a good scandal.

"Does anyone else know?" he asked now, the gleam of opportunities perceived lighting his eyes.

Lee considered, "I may have figured it out, and Sirius is almost there," I snorted and she silenced me with a look, "but it isn't such a big thing, after all. It isn't like we're….together or anything like that."

I looked at her sharply. Not together? That phrase coming from her lips offended me more than I was willing to admit.

James, too, looked disappointed, "it would have been perfect if you were," he informed her, tone almost reprimanding, "Lilly and I, Sirius and you…..it would have been like something out of a fairytale." He sounded wistful even then.

But Lee did not look overly impressed. She gave a small sigh, she answered him, but her eyes rested on me and I knew her words were as much for my benefit as for his, "I don't do fairytales."

...

I'm just going to take the opportunity to say thankyou for the reviews I have received so far! It's really great that so many people like the story, or, if not the story, my writing. That people take the time to tell me what they think about my work is pretty nice.

I'm also sorry about how infrequent the entries to this have been; school's in, and I have pretty much no time for writing, but I'm doing my best.

Thanks again, and keep reading.