She feels her oxygen cut out, her vision blurred...

Then everything became black.

Seventh of May

Year 1998 | Chapter 5

Early Evening | As if they done this before

"Hermione... Hermione…"

Hermione could hear someone calling her name. Could feel someone touching her shoulder. Attempting to rouse her from stupor. But she would reject the spurring. The blackness is greatly agreeable to her beaten body, exhausted mind, and afflicted heart.

"Hermione wake up."

The hand on her shoulder had become quite insistent, relentless in its goal and almost pleading for her to wake up. She is having difficulty surfacing to full consciousness but partly she knows she should respond. She would give in to the plea, if she could just summon a little strength.

"Give me few minutes Harry." Somehow she remembers the necessity for her to get up, and though she meant not to make excuses, she couldn't help but mumbled, "I think I got too spent re-casting the wards earlier but I'll get up in awhile and will take over handling the horcux."

Unable to open her eyes and really trying hard to get herself into sort of wakefulness, she turned on her side, pushing her body into the makeshift bed she been using for several months while out on the run. Only it feels different.

"Hermione I loathe to wake you but you need sustenance."

And that voice isn't Harrys.

The hand that was earlier on her shoulder is now gently raking her hair and tucking some loose sections behind her ear. A familiar scent…and then the notion that she is partially pressed into someone's warmth had finally registered into her brain. With the greatest effort, she shifted her back into the mattress and opened her eyes.

For a moment her vision was blurry, then it settled into a much-concerned emerald eyes of Minerva McGonagall.

Minerva… Waking her up... Seated on the right side edge of the bed… A bed she had no recollection at all.

Hermione was trying to determine if she is still asleep, if what she is seeing is just a phantom of her yearning. Pondering hard, she closed her eyes in order to disperse the image of Minerva just beside her… and reconcile her current situation. She started digging up the last thing she could remember.

"Hermione, I know you need sleep, but it will be better for you if you eat something first."

She heard the request for her to be awake once again. And felt a hand gently ran down one of her arms. "What… ha-ppend—?" She slowly re-opened her eyes as she attempted to ask questions of her whereabouts, but suddenly found her throat too dry to complete her sentence.

Also, it finally dawned on her that her most favorite emerald-eyed woman is indeed sitting with her and it's not just a product of her imagination.

"You fainted and I apparated us here. Do you recall being at Hogwarts training ground?"

Hogwarts… Training ground… Hermione slowly nodded as she undergoes flashback.

'Oh Hermione, evil would always try to return. But while they are not around, we must not spend one moment longer in suffering…'

Minerva… Gentle words… Tender touches on her shoulders… Her magic cracking… Difficulty breathing… Blackness…

"Where... where is here?" She asks pulling back from the recollection.

"The Manor."

"Manor?"

"McGonagall Manor. I… I took you home. I was unsure if you'd rather be at the Burrow. Harry mentioned that you opted to stay somewhere else. Only he didn't mention where. Certainly we could go anywhere if you wish, but I would insist that we only do after you've eaten something."

"I'm not really— " Hermione not wanting to be dishonest, but also not inclined to announce her present dislike of eating, she then settled for one version of truth. "I can't seem to find any appetite…"

Minerva nodded at her in clear understanding, "I know. For a while, eating would really feel like shoving dry stones down your throat, and your stomach would stubbornly refuse easy digestion."

With the unexpected exact comprehension, Hermione could not help the feeling of easement. She was beginning to doubt if she was just making things difficult for herself, but she knows that it's never her nature to purposely starve herself. She has no intention to forsake her health, things are just muddling her mind too much.

She keeps forming assaulting thoughts; like how could she take-up dining as if nothings amiss…when several acquaintances of hers would never eat…as they are now dead? Part of her logical brain is aware of how futile the contention is. But it's still not helping her pick up a spoon. Nevertheless, she knows it shall pass. And she is banking that it does sooner than later.

"You have to try. You know you have to." Minerva made to move and reach out for the tray on the bedside table she didn't notice earlier. "You're extremely drained of any nutrients, not to mention thoroughly dehydrated. Your body couldn't take the negligence anymore. You can't allow yourself to be gravely ill."

Upon seeing the food in it, she felt her tummy instantly recoil at the rejection. She concentrated on not making any heaving action and forced herself to think of the accuracy of what Minerva has said about her sustenance. Moving to sit upright, she directed her thoughts to simple good sense. After almost forgoing so many meals, it really is a surprise that it had taken her only now to collapsed.

"Soup, sandwich and fruits. You need not finish all if you can't, just have something. Please?"

Hermione heard the soft plea, stared into emerald imploring eyes, before carefully looking at the tray with food that had been placed between them on a conjured bed table. She checked the reaction of her tummy and found that it was not in protest anymore, contrary to how she felt just moments ago. Irrational or not, she attributed the settling down of her guts to Minerva's intervention.

"Will you share some bites with me?" She surprised herself with her question…as well as Minerva.

After a short pause, unbelievably, the older witch nodded and conjured another fork. "But you are eating most of these as I already had dinner."

Hermione nodded in agreement; stirred the soup gently and then took her first spoonful of soup slowly. When she looked up and found Minerva's approving features, a smile worked its way on her face. She then had another while the older woman forked a slice of a fruit.

"Is your back better?" She asked, pausing her spoon mid-air as she suddenly remembered the older woman's injuries from the battle.

"Yes, the swelling is almost gone. Are your burns completely healed?" Minerva asked back and Hermione nodded to convey an affirmation.

For several minutes, they remained silent as they continue to share the food between them. Plainly, Minerva is maneuvering to just take a bite after every three or four ones of Hermione's. When she managed to finish more than half of the serving and felt her tummy slightly objected to take more, she put her utensils down and conveyed satiation. She was afraid that Minerva would insist she eats more but the older woman merely nodded.

As she was handed a glass of orange juice, she watched Minerva wandlessly and wordlessly vanished the tray. After drinking half of the contents, she handed back the glass to Minerva who automatically finished the remaining juice. Following that, they repeated the same thing with a glass of water— Hermione drinking the first half and Minerva finishing the glass. Their actions were done in such ease that one would think they had done such not for the first time, but a thousand times.

Then Minerva magically refilled the glass and set it on the side table. When the older woman made to stand in order to depart, Hermione placed her hands on her to halter the movements, silently asking her to stay a little longer.

"I called you Harry." She started as Minerva sat back on the bed. The older woman cocked her head, waiting for her to explain further to what she was referring.

"When you were waking me up. I thought you were Harry."

"You did," Minerva mindfully replied.

"I thought… For a moment… It felt like I was still out there… That I have to do things…"

When she and Ron figured Harry's plan to go after the Horcruxes by himself, there was no question that they would not allow him do it alone. In the same vein, she recognized and accepted the weight that had fallen on her as the presumed bearer of all the answers— the designated brain. The person expected to know and cast spells after spells for their needs, particularly for their protection…

The burden, without a doubt, rammed Hermione into the ground. And now that the war is over, the disentanglement is just fusing with so many other things already running rampant inside her. But ceasing her descent into emotional attack is realizing that Minerva had intertwined their fingers and now softly tugging for her to meet her eyes…mirroring that one they shared after the battle. When she did raise her brown eyes, they met clear emerald ones; thereupon spoke sincerity and certitude.

"I cannot imagine how hard it was for the three of you out there. How burdensome for you. I am just grateful that it is over. Voldemort is gone. Truly gone this time. Harry is alright. You don't have to protect him anymore… And Ronald… And yourself…"

Minerva shifted closer to her, still holding her gaze, and with somewhat pained expression, Hermione heard the solemn pronouncement, "But I wish with all my heart, that I was out there with you— to protect you… and Harry and Ronald."

Overwhelmed and unable to hold the urge any longer, Hermione crashed herself to Minerva. Her heart is bursting with love for the woman who had captured her entire being for quite sometime… And the desire to extinguish any space between them as they embraced is coursing through her.

At the same time, her mind is pounding for her to use common sense, and prompted recall of the resolutions she made not many hours ago.

Of how she was going to work on unloving Minerva who is not for anyone's taking. Of how she was going to stay away from Minerva in order to recover from the heartbreak.

But Hermione could not care less… She shuts her brain for the meantime... And reveled in being in Minerva's arms…

"You couldn't." Hermione reluctantly withdrew herself, wanting to look intently at Minerva as she assuages the woman. "You needed to be at Hogwarts. Without you there, the staff would have no one to draw courage from. Then students would have no chance at all. Hogwarts needed you."

Hermione saw flashes of several raw emotions on Minerva's face. She wanted to capture them and dissect them and hoard them but the older woman has obviously gotten hold of her control instantaneously, retelling Hermione of Minerva's damnable infamous walls. But for all that, a smile is still gracing Minerva's face in assuredness, and Hermione not wanting to altogether cut the candidness they've been sharing since waking up, she proceeded to open another section of herself to the woman.

"I don't think I'm returning to Hogwarts for my last year. A big part of me wants to come back, but without Harry and Ron there… It'll be different… Difficult even.

"I figured as much." Minerva replied in kind understanding.

"How would I know it's not the wrong decision?"

"Sometimes- its how it feels. I supposed it does not feel right to you to come back without your closest friends? Furthermore, you already know that staying another year at Hogwarts is irrelevant to your learning. We both know that you could have taken and passed NEWTS in your 5th year or even 4th, and get marks of Es and Os."

Relieved and pleased that Minerva supports her probable decision not to go back to Hogwarts, she playfully asked, "Maybe not in Divination?"

"Oh well, we all have that one subject." Minerva deadpanned.

They chuckled at the common sentiment. Unknowingly they both thought back at the various meetings they had at Minerva's office, of incidents that had them lightheartedly affront Divination. Almost all their meetings were spent in serious sessions of learning and fervent discussions particularly on more complex aspects of magic, like they would comb the latest transfiguration journal. But from time to time when Divination is mentioned in tangent, they would unable to withhold their amusement and subsequent poking of the subject. Hermione clearly remembers Minerva holding her smile when she first admitted that she had dropped Divination after arguing with Professor Trelawney's illogical presentiment.

"Though I would have to admit, I would miss, just as I had this year, that bi-monthly knock at my office for a fresh intellectual sparring with one brilliant young lady."

"Really?"

"Aye. Do you know that at times it would occur to me how someday you'd bring up a topic that I would falter with?

"Never. That someday will not happen." Smiling brightly at what Minerva said about missing her, but rather unsure how to address it without leading into mad confession of her love, she decided to issue back a rhetorical question. "Do you know that students, especially Ravenclaws fear that there isn't a spell they could find in the library that you do not know?

"Quite a compliment but severely inaccurate." Minerva replied grinning, and the corner of her eyes crinkled in amusement.

"Come on, how many you've left unread in that library?" Hermione gibed, raising the digits of her hands in illustration. "Ten books?"

"How many books that YOU have not read?" Minerva retorted, reaching for Hermione's hands again, and clasping them back together unthinkingly.

"Oh, six years did not give me a lot of time to get through even tenth of them. Plus, it's not easy to sneak out books from the restricted area you know? Now grinning widely as Minerva lifted an eyebrow at her reference of accessing the restricted area, she carried on with her teasing. "So you did read the entire library?"

"No... No! A couple of shelves I skipped… like those containing books on Divination. And I avoided those oppressive volumes on potion recipes, as the laborious text tend to shut my eyes." Minerva dryly responded and it had Hermione openly laughing.

"Okay, okay… That makes about twenty to twenty-five books unread!"

"Who in Merlin's name started that imprecision? And please, a bookish person calling another for her bookish penchant is not nice! You're incorrigible!" Minerva complains mockingly… with chuckles coming out from their banter.

Hermione could not help but get hooked on the rare loose chuckles that are coming from Minerva. The bright gleaming of her emerald eyes is enchanting to say the least, and it dawned on her how the woman in front of her is not the one presented in public, but Minerva in private.

At the realization, her heart was pulled at two different directions. One of them she entirely ignored, as the other is about staying in the moment, which she intends to draw for as long as she could.

"But really, if I have read most of them, that's because of what you said."

Hermione quickly backtrack a bit, "That six years and I've made almost tenth?"

"Yes, only six years and you've read through a quarter of them, not tenth, excluding several those in the restricted areas." Minerva sported a challenging expression at her obvious intent to correct. She withheld the objection; bit her lip with her shoulders shaking in laughter.

"I on the other hand had far longer. Most parents of your fellow students weren't even born yet when I started perusing that library. That's one product of old age."

"You're hardly old." Hermione earnestly protested.

"But I am Hermione. You've read Hogwarts: A History, possibly more than once, so you know very well that I am… old."

"That's relative. We know that upon reaching 25 in years, we don't age like muggles anymore, that ours is half the pace."

"Even so, that still makes me quite old."

"But surely you've realised that YOU don't age like other witches— that you seemed to age half of half the pace."

Hermione saw the surprise and unease in Minerva's face but they were instantly dismissed. Expression of mischief dwells in it instead. "You need glasses Hermione!"

"Uh-uh, Mrs. Weasley swore you barely aged from the time she graduated from Hogwarts. How you could defy magical ageing is beyond comprehension even for magical people? And incidentally, that's what Slytherin is most afraid of you?

"That I am old?"

"No… But that you could defy elementals in magic… Sort of betray primal runic. You know how Slytherins are with their proclivity on concepts of purity."

"So, between the Ravenclaws and Slytherins, I am a smart-ass-traitor?"

Laughter tore from Hermione's lips, one that definitely came deep from her belly. She couldn't believe Minerva use of language and self-deprecating humour. Actually, she could. She knows the older witch's sardonic nature is just her extreme wicked sense of humour. Most students are wary and clueless how to react when Minerva would drop one or two wisecracks, but she always— always get a kick out of it.

"And let me guess what the fair-play Hufflepuffs says. That if I could deduct points from my own house, I would unreasonably-reasonably deduct twice from theirs because I expect them to be the most behaved house?"

Hermione unable to respond in mirth, she just nodded her head. Minerva's spot-on humor is beginning to send her into a laughing fit.

"Lovely, that would make me an overly-upright-smart-ass-traitor?"

Hermione could not help but laugh harder; tears are forming in her eyes at Minerva's ballooned self-deprecations. She good-humoredly injects more ribbing through her broken sentences. "How—do—you—know—that? Oh wait, because—you—are—a smart—ummm—some—thing! Ravenclaws are right to fear your supreme knowledge!"

"How uplifting the way student-body regards me." Minerva wryly remarked, though her emerald eyes are indeed sparkling in laughter. "And pray tell what my Gryffindors dread about me?"

The question abruptly stopped Hermione from laughing. Her brows grew knitted as she tossed in her head the consensus amongst her house members when asked what they feared about one Minerva McGonagall?

"That— terrible huh?" Minerva raised a brow and Hermione could see a bit of worry in her, though she could see as well how the older woman is determined not to show it.

"Gryffindors fear that we would not make you proud of our house." Hermione softly says with much reverence that she could muster.

Minerva's eyes perceptibly soften, and then the corner of her mouth curved into a wonderful smile at hearing those touching words. "That's quite… an honour… and exceedingly humbling."

Hermione nodded in conviction as she went on saying, "Harry once told me— that as much as he wanted to heed your suggestion to fly under the radar when that horrible Umbridge was at the school, he said— he always felt that you would be more disappointed if we act less than who we are. Less than Gryffindors that we ought to be."

Pride erupted on Minerva's face and Hermione could she see how it was running along with memories that are obviously replaying inside her head. Perhaps one of them is the incident that Harry once narrated to them. Of Minerva telling him to have a biscuit when sent to her office just after he strongly opposed Umbridge in the classroom, fighting for the truth.

Hermione wanted to tell her more of the many commendation from fellow Gryffindors that she had heard through the years. Like how they wanted to win the cup not just for themselves, but more so for the Head of their House. The ardent desire to keep that elated expression on Minerva's face is setting her heart on fire. To witness it is in of itself a treasure.

Then she heard Minerva's thoughtful words, "Godric Gryffindor could not be more proud… Especially of you three— Harry, Ronald and you."

Hermione could not possibly beamed more in response. With her trademark Cheshire grin on her face, she could not help but again open another section of herself to the woman… In effect digging herself deeper in emotional sinking sand.

"Do you want to know what my boggart is?"

"If you wish to tell me." Minerva replied and impulsively raised one hand to tuck Hermione's hair behind one ear.

"You."

At Minerva's knitted brows, Hermione hastily amended, "I mean, not you— you per se. But, of you telling me… that I failed at everything. That you just made an error in giving my Hogwarts letter. That you will tell me that I am not good enough to have a place here in your world— magical world."

Winded at the rushed declaration, Hermione stared in horror as she apparently rendered Minerva speechless, and it gave her a lapsing feeling. The sound of silence has not given her a sense of assurance; an onslaught of misgivings is beginning to launch from the pit of her guts.

Then without warning, Hermione hears a full abandoned guffaw from Minerva McGonagall. The woman who exclusively holds her heart is now laughing intensely that tears are forming in her emerald eyes. One elegant hand is cradling the side of her stomach, easing the stitches produced by laughter.

In any other situation, to be laughed at just after baring a part of oneself would be very offensive. But the merrily laughing witch in front of her could not bring her to anything remotely negative. In fact, the radiant picture of Minerva laughing without constraint is taking hold of her heart in rapture. 'Merlin, she's beautiful.' Hermione thought and it's absolutely taking her breath away.

"Forgive me, I didn't mean to laugh… It's just that— most people fear Voldemort, or ghastly creatures, and endless other mortality perils, but you— your fear of me saying irrational things to you had me taken aback."

"They are not irrational. I could care less if I'd make Hogwarts four founders proud, including Merlin himself. Because… Because I would be much content to make Minerva McGonagall proud!"

Hermione filter totally went out of the window. She felt so upset at the notion that Minerva thinks that her fear is too insignificant so she let words come out of her lips without running through the implications first.

"Oh Hermione, you may rest your fear. Do you know that when the Order learned that you three took off, somehow I was convinced that you'd make it through? Yes, indeed I worried so much about you, feared for what you'd have to go through, but I've witnessed how brilliant you are. I knew you'd never allow yourself to fail at anything you've set your sights on. While it is true that Harry was the focal point of Voldemort's downfall, let me tell you that he had no chance if he did not have you in his life. Harry knows that. And you'd be surprised how many of us believe that."

"Really?" Hermione asked tentatively, in a voice that had come out soft and shaky. She is quite shocked at what Minerva had said in explanation.

"Aye. And now that there is no war hanging over our heads, it's just a matter of time— a short one by my estimation; that you'd astound the entire wizarding world with your brilliance. I… We… can't wait for you to change the world. Actually, you already have.

Minerva declaration was heavily laced with apparent fondness. It tempted Hermione for a brief moment to debate within herself if the statement means more than mentor-caring-for-protégé. She wanted to convince herself that perhaps it is possible for her former professor to see her more than a former student. But then, as she looks intently into emerald eyes of Minerva McGonagall, she is clearly reminded how the woman is not for anyone's taking. She dismissed the madness of her longing.

"Hermione, I can just imagine the many great things line-up for you. Hence, the question should be— do I… do we deserve you darling?"

Minerva's words pierced Hermione's heart in complexities. Unable to stop it, she crashed herself to the older witch for the second time. She felt strong arms wrapped around her too and her heart soared into bliss and anguish. The moment is too grand and too consuming. She feared she'd never be the same person again if Minerva would not be part of her life in any capacity the older woman extends to her. It's thoroughly making her emotions spin into unknown breadth.

After a while, she felt Minerva eased her back on the bed. "We'll talk more tomorrow. You have to rest." Then moved to get up from her sitting position. "If you need anything, just call Dolly. She is in-charge of the Manor."

Not knowing what else to say, but with full emotions swimming inside her, she just nodded in response. Her gaze instinctively trailed after Minerva who is graciously making her way to the door. But before the woman reached the knob, Hermione calls out to her inaudibly.

"Minerva… " The older woman paused and turned back to look at her. For the very first time, she made use of Minerva's first name— one she had never before dare utter except in her mind. And the significance of the addressing also registered in the older witch's countenance.

"Yes?"

Her chocolate colored eyes stared tenderly into emerald ones, "Thank you." She breathed out and tore her gaze away from the magnificent eyes of Minerva McGonagall.

"You are welcome, Hermione. Good night."

Hermione watched the door closed behind Minerva's exit. And only then she released a breath she did not know she was holding. To help ignore the pull to follow the woman, she transferred her attention to the bedchamber that she had earlier unnoticed when Minerva was in the room with her.

The room is large but not overly so, with walls that are sparely decorated. But the paneling and columns of wood and stones have the hallmark of extraordinary class and quality that one couldn't deny even if one is not accustomed at looking designs. The high ceiling however is surmounted with carvings of some sort of coat of arms that Hermione is trying to place where she had seen before. The room has no fireplace but has a large window where a thick curtain is almost fully drawn leaving slight admittance of moonlight that supplements the lighted candles inside the room. Her thoughts are currently on the bed coverlet that her fingers are skimming when a soft pop garnered her attention.

"Pardon to disturb you Miss." Hermione shifted her eyes to the area where the sound came. She found an elderly house elf that had appeared near the door.

"Minerva wanted me to bring this to you in case you be wanting sleeping clothes. And to tell you that that door would lead you to the bathroom. She said she forgot to tell you so." The elf stepped forward to put the article of clothing on the foot of the bed then pointed to the door on the right side of the room.

"Are you Dolly? I'm Hermione. Please just call me Hermione. It's nice to meet you. Did you prepare for the food I ate? I'd like to thank you and to apologize that I probably disturbed your night."

Yellow luminescent eyes stared at her before a smile broke on her face. "No Miss ahh— No Hermione, it is of no trouble. Especially for you."

"That's most kind of you. Minerva said you are in-charge of the Manor."

"Yes. I have been since my mother went to the other side of life." Hermione could see the pride and the satisfaction etched at her old face and she could not help but smile at that.

Then she almost choked on her own saliva with what Dolly said next, "By the way Hermione, I am free. All elves here at McGonagall Manor are. If you must know, we stay here with Minerva of our own decision."

"What? Did you tell me that because you know about SPEW?" Hermione's eyes widened at the probability.

But somewhat disappointingly, Dolly blinked at her several times, clueless of what she was talking about. That confused Hermione because she was sure that Dolly's declaration is correlated to SPEW, Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare, an organization she set at Hogwarts… Hogwarts!

"Do you know any elf at Hogwarts?"

"Binky. Mostly he stays there to look after Minerva, but he mentioned no SPEE…SPEW?..."

"Then why did you tell me what you just told me? About you and the elves here."

"One school break that Minerva went home, she talked about one student named Hermione who had taken the crusade for elves' welfare. How you were making hats. How no one had the heart to tell you that no elf wanted to clean her House common room anymore. How she hopes that you'd always be brave to take up very good cause no matter how unpopular, and that one day you beat the odds with your brilliance."

Hermione gasped at finding out that Minerva knew about it. AND that Minerva talked about it…about her…here…at McGonagall Manor…at Minerva's home.

"Minerva said it would have thrilled Isobel McGonagall."

"Minerva's mother?

"Her great-great grandmother. It was she who gave my grandmother clothes. Free her…our family… Of course we stayed, as we do not want to leave. Mistress Isobel asked that if we stay, we stay as part of McGonagall family not house slaves."

So Minerva's great-great grandmother freed their house elves, possibly more than hundred years ago; a wonderful discovery that is making Hermione notably pleased. Though she is still perplexed why Dolly out of the blue opened the topic about them being free as if needing to explain... as if she accused them of something. Then it clicked.

"Minerva made mention that she was concerned that the disappointment of not getting the cooperation of the very group you are fighting for would crash your fervor. That was how I told Minerva that if one lady named Hermione ever stays here, I tell how we have been family to McGonagalls... so that she would have an inspiration."

For the nth time tonight, Hermione's heart swells.

"Thank you Dolly. It is indeed a great encouragement."

The elder elf made a bow. "Manor had no guest for quite sometime, I hope you'd like it here Hermione. Is there anything else you'd be needing before I leave you goodnight?"

She said no and Dolly snapped her fingers, leaving her alone. She decided to take a bath to wash the day's grime on her. Her body appreciated the wonderful feeling of being clean. Afterwards knowing the dinginess she probably got into the bed earlier, she performed a scourgify before she hopped back to bed.

As her eyes began to shut, a sudden pleasing thought occur to her; the set of pajamas given by Dolly that she is now wearing— is of the same kind that she found herself wearing when she woke the day after the battle — ivory colored satin. Seeing that Harry was also in one, she thought that it was him who took care of them. It never struck her to ask him. But now, apparently he didn't. Minerva was the one who took care of them.

Furthermore, she realised that without a doubt, Minerva was the one who placed the healing balms on her shoulder.

Hermione turned on her side; pressing her face into the pillow… she swore she could smell olive, scent of Minerva.

It produced a wide smile into Hermione's face… as she drifted to sleep.

Again, I am just borrowing from JK Rowling and twisting them to my liking.

Hi. I have about 2 or 3 chapters more for Year 1998 then the story is moving to the next May 7. :)