A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed! You guys/girls are great! Keep it up,
hehehe…oh, and the whole suave!Ron thing is exactly what I was aiming for,
so it's really cool that everyone picked up on that. =)
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling. 'Nuff said.
Once I get you up there,
Where the air is rarified
We'll just glide
Starry eyed
Once I get you up there
I'll be holding you so near
And you may hear angels cheer
Just because we're together
Weather wise it's such a kooky day
Just say the words, and I'll beat the birds
Down to Acapulco Bay
It's perfect, for a flying honeymoon, they say
Come fly with me
Pack up let's fly away
-'Come Fly With Me,' Robbie Williams
"Passports?" The burly-looking border guard stood at the gate, blocking their path as they Apparated into the Border Crossing Station. After he stamped the 'United Kingdom' stamp (a/n: redundant!!) on them, he stepped aside and the door swung out into the road ahead. The sight of it made Hermione catch her breath lightly. She hadn't been to England in ages. Everything was so green and rural, totally unlike the suburban and city areas she frequented in the States. The uncut grass blew slightly in the air, sending up a fresh, clean smell.
"It's so pretty out here." Ron made a face.
"It's just a deserted farm we use to get back from the States." He leaned on the old wooden fence, elbows taking the brunt of his weight. "See, there's the barn over there. Other farmers used to bring their livestock here to graze, but since the Ministry bought it, the greenery just grows all over the place." She was still taking in her surroundings, slightly dazed.
"I can't believe I'm home."
"Really different from San Diego, isn't it?" A small smile was playing on her lips, and as she turned to acknowledge his statement, she again took notice of how handsome he was. Hair windblown and unkempt, his face was also gently musing. He wasn't really listening, and as they walked along the main pathway Hermione sensed that he was lost in his own thoughts.
"How are we going to get to Diagon Alley from here? Apparition, right?" He seemed to come out of his trance, shaking his head a little as he smiled.
"No, we're going by broom."
"WHAT?" Hermione had never really liked flying; it was something she couldn't learn from a book. She had also seen Ron's flying style: wild and reckless. "There is NO way I'm flying with you, Ron Weasley." While she was busy fuming, Ron had pulled a fifty-pence piece from his pocket and transfigured it back into his broom.
"Why not? I'm perfectly good on a broomstick."
"We can be there in a split second if we use-"
"But this way is so much more fun."
She pulled out her wand. "I'll meet you at the Daily Prophet headquarters."
In reply, he only kicked off, yelling back, "They won't give you clearance…And do you even know where in Diagon Alley it is?"
"Well…erm…no." She pouted for a while before yelling up, "Fine! I'll ride with you! Just come down here and let me mount." His mouth twisted into a smirk and he said,
"That sounded quite dirty." On realising what he meant, Hermione flushed scarlet. "What? No furious backchat? That isn't like you." She climbed onto the broom, behind him.
"I couldn't think of anything to say." He gave her a teasing glance but his only reply was,
"Ready?"
"Yes." Ron was about to push off when he abruptly turned to her.
"If you sit like that, you'll fall off." Her arms were dangling at her sides; she didn't want to wrap her arms around him and stay in that position for however long it took (she estimated about half an hour) to get to the office. "Here, switch with me." Before she could protest, she found herself sitting at the head of the broom with Ron behind her. He draped his arms loosely around her waist, causing her pulse to flutter considerably and her face redden more than it already was. "Okay, I'll kick off for you." His breath came close to her ear and she shivered in spite of herself. She held the broom in a deathgrip as he urged it into the air.
After a minute, they were speeding along at a pretty good rate, the clouds white and puffy below them. Every so often, a splash of color would interrupt the idyllic blues and whites of their environment, signifying a city or town was below them.
"THIS is pretty." Ron's voice, so close to her face, made her lose her concentration and they dived downwards. "Whoa!" He leaned forward, grabbing the broom and pushing it back into the clouds. "What's with you? You can't be this bad of a flyer."
"You're distracting me." His hands had slid back up to her waist, but soon moved back to the polished surface of the broom as it began to waver again.
"I shouldn't have let you steer," he mumbled.
"What was that?"
"Nothing." Her forehead wrinkled as she tried to turn and look at him. "Don't turn around! You'll kill us!" He swerved, narrowly avoiding an old woman with a death wish. Her ancient Cleansweep 4 trembled violently as she shook her fist at them.
"Sorry," she mumbled sheepishly.
"Don't worry about it." He scrutinized her grip, shaking his head. "The problem with your steering-"
"My steering's usually fine…you're distracting me, that's the problem."
Ron raised his voice over her whining. "-is that you grip at a slightly odd angle. Plus you're holding it too tightly." He pried her hands off of the handle with minimum difficulty, holding them in his own. "It's more like this, see?"
"Oh." She felt relieved once he had put her hands in what he presumed was a good position…but he didn't let go. "What are you doing?"
"Teaching you to guide better." A teenage wizard zoomed past them. "See, this whole system works sort of like a Muggle freeway. During this time, there's loads of traffic and we have to stay to one side." Hermione was too preoccupied with HIM to listen to what he was saying. The crisp scent of his cologne, mingled with aftershave and freshly laundered towels and Ron was intoxicating. She felt so comfortable wrapped in his arms, and wanted nothing more than to stay there, him steering the way. 'Don't think like that, Hermione,' the resonable voice in the back of her head warned. But it was so warm and delicious and…right, and she wasn't going to be the one to end it. "You got it now?"
Despite her more practical thoughts, she found herself saying, "No, not yet. Could you repeat that?" He rolled his eyes at her, grinning a little, but he re-explained the entire shpiel just for her.
"And that's it, basically...oh, but in very high winds-" he was cut off by the sound of honking traffic. "I guess we're here." Hermione's face fell like a puppet's after its strings had been cut off. "I know it's hard for you to put so much distance between us after this, so you'd better not even try."
"Of all the arrogant, high-handed things to say!" She sputtered indignantly. "If you think-" But the broom was landing, and Hermione still couldn't land right. She was forced to rely on Ron to keep her from slipping off of the handle. "You'd better not drop me."
"I have no intention of doing that," he replied, his eyes catching hers for a second before he focused back onto the ground. They landed with a soft bump right into the back of the Leaky Cauldron. "Perfect." She had to admit, it WAS a perfect landing...but there was no way in hell she'd tell him that. "Right then..." He counted the bricks of the wall, broomstick in one hand and wand in the other. He stepped back as the wall dividing Diagon Alley from the rest of the world melted away.
"So, Almighty Journalist Extraordinare, lead the way!" She clasped her hands behind her back, walking exaggeratingly slow and primly. Her mid- length skirt flapped around her legs and her boots made soft thumping noises as she walked. Her eyes slid from store to store, eagerly taking in the changes made in them since she left. Since it was a weekday, not many people were there and she had no excuse to stand close to Ron...a fact that she secretly cursed.
"It's right over here," he ushered her into what was obviously a private lane. It was a big, imposing structure flanked by Roman-style columns, rather like the Gringotts building. Only this one had a large, white, opened scroll in place of a sign. It read 'The Daily Prophet' in big gold letters.
"Rather ostentatious, don't you think?" Ron had opened the door, letting her in first. A whoosh of cool air greeted them. The floor was a deep brown color, set with swirls of cream and gold. There were glass elevators leading to floors that reached up and up, all the way to what Hermione guessed was the...hundreth? floor. The doors were all old, polished wood with gold doorknobs.
"It suits the paper's personality." He dug around in his pockets, searching while he talked. "I mean, we ARE a bit flashy, but that's all to catch a reader's attention. Then we get into the real meat of the story...ah, here it is." He pulled a laminated ID card out, brushing off some crumbs from the front of it. "Have to remember not to keep crumpets in here..." He handed it to the receptionist at the front desk, drumming his fingers on the countertop.
"Good morning, Mr. Weasley." She smiled at him pleasantly, sliding the card into what looked to be a Muggle credit card scanner. "Let's see...you haven't been here in a while! Fifty-one messages waiting for you in your office. Kate has them all set up for you there."
"Thanks," he answered cordially. She handed him back his card, and he led Hermione to one of the elevators. "Press the button for the 89th floor, would you?" She pressed the according button, commenting,
"Newspaper offices don't usually have this nice of a building, do they?"
"You're right, they don't...and neither do we. You'll see once we get inside." The elevator doors opened into a magnificent foyer. "This floor is all mine." He flashed her a smile. "The higher up we get, the better our accomodations. Of course, I just use most of the rooms for research. There are stacks and stacks of papers everywhere..."
"Which I've just cleaned up." Ron's receptionist spoke from her desk, situated towards the middle. "And I've left all your messages on your desk." The woman eyed Hermione scrutinizingly. Her smile was artificially contrived, she could tell, and her eyes glared from under long eyelashes.
"Oh...Kate, this is Hermione Granger. Hermione, this is Kate Blythe, my secretary." The two women gave each other stiff, fake greetings. Ron, being the man that he was, didn't pick up on this. Hermione felt rather sick. The other woman was obviously very beautiful, the very picture of what Hermione didn't have. Wavy blond hair that looked as if it had been spun from gold, a slim, lithe physique, gorgeous green eyes and killer fashion sense.
'But I have a much better nose than she does,' she thought in satisfaction. Her comparisons ('long, non-frizzy hair…damn it') were abruptly stopped when Ron spoke.
"Come into my office, 'Mione. I've got some stuff you should see." Kate's eyes narrowed at the nickname, and Hermione could feel the woman's eyes boring into her back as she followed him out of the foyer. Ron opened the door to a huge room, complete with a gigantic picture window. "Hold on, let me check my messages." As he shuffled through the sheets of paper, she looked at the photographs on his desk. One of his family when they were all still very small, taken in the front yard…Ron was clutching his teddy bear in his chubby little hand, staring in fascination at the camera. Fred and George were sporting neon green hair, similar-colored lollipops stuck into their mouths. Percy, impeccable as always even in childhood, was standing next to his parents, a smug smile plastered onto his face. Ginny was still a toddler squirming in her mother's lap, a line of drool hanging from her mouth to her bib. Bill was wearing his Hogwarts Quidditch robes, his hair shorter and no fang earring in sight. Charlie was tripping over a chicken he had stuck bits of dragonhide to. Another one of the Weasleys. This time they were all young adults. Ron was wearing what Hermione presumed was his University robes, black with a red and silver crest on it. Fred and George looked pretty much the same. Ginny, looking very beautiful, was wearing a flashy set of Gladrags Witches' Robes, smiling from ear to ear. A shiny diamond ring sparkled from her finger. Bill and Charlie also looked much the same as they did when Hermione last saw them, only Bill had finally cut his hair and Charlie was sporting a burn on the side of his cheek.
"What's that big ring on Ginny's finger?"
"She's engaged," Ron muttered, flipping through another message. "To Harry. No, she's not married yet-" He saw the surprised look on her face, and hastily explained it away. "You're still on the invite list, 'Mione…can't get out of it."
"I wouldn't want to." To avoid his eyes, Hermione picked up another photo frame. This was of their little group at Hogwarts in the Great Hall. The three of them were in the middle. Harry, glasses slightly askew and hair as messy as it had always been, was grinning slyly at she and Ron, who were both blushing furiously…they were seated next to each other. Her hair was still bushy, she thought with a mild tinge of disgust, and several books were piled on the ground next to her. Her Prefect badge was shined up and ready to go, pinned proudly onto the front of her robes. Ron's ears were an interesting shade of purple by now, and he looked positively murderous. Seamus was sitting next to Harry, Lavender in his lap. They both had goofy smiles plastered on their faces, but they were looking at each other instead of at the camera. Dean was hopping up and down, trying to gain attention, and Parvati was powdering her nose. Neville was a blur to the side of Hermione…he had tripped over one of her books.
"Shit." Ron crossed the room hurriedly, opening an owl cage. "Alright, Widge, go deliver this." He tied a letter to the owl's legs and let it out through the window. "There's breaking news right now."
"What?"
"Dark activity. This message was left here an hour ago. If we're lucky, we'll catch it." While he was pulling on his cloak, he asked, "D'you want to stay at my place or Apparate back home?"
"You don't want me to come?"
"It's dangerous."
"Honestly, Ron! It can't be more dangerous than our seven years at Hogwarts!" She glared at him. "I'm coming."
"I don't want you hurt."
"I won't get any more hurt than you will." He sighed impatiently.
"You're a stubborn one, aren't you?"
"I learned from the best." He gave her a look of exasperation before caving in.
"Yeah, yeah…just stick with me."He pulled out his wand. "Okay, let's go."
A/N: I know this is a departure from the previous chapters, but its getting to the main plot of the story. So please review anyway, even if its not as fluffy as the other chapters!!! Thanks.
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling. 'Nuff said.
Once I get you up there,
Where the air is rarified
We'll just glide
Starry eyed
Once I get you up there
I'll be holding you so near
And you may hear angels cheer
Just because we're together
Weather wise it's such a kooky day
Just say the words, and I'll beat the birds
Down to Acapulco Bay
It's perfect, for a flying honeymoon, they say
Come fly with me
Pack up let's fly away
-'Come Fly With Me,' Robbie Williams
"Passports?" The burly-looking border guard stood at the gate, blocking their path as they Apparated into the Border Crossing Station. After he stamped the 'United Kingdom' stamp (a/n: redundant!!) on them, he stepped aside and the door swung out into the road ahead. The sight of it made Hermione catch her breath lightly. She hadn't been to England in ages. Everything was so green and rural, totally unlike the suburban and city areas she frequented in the States. The uncut grass blew slightly in the air, sending up a fresh, clean smell.
"It's so pretty out here." Ron made a face.
"It's just a deserted farm we use to get back from the States." He leaned on the old wooden fence, elbows taking the brunt of his weight. "See, there's the barn over there. Other farmers used to bring their livestock here to graze, but since the Ministry bought it, the greenery just grows all over the place." She was still taking in her surroundings, slightly dazed.
"I can't believe I'm home."
"Really different from San Diego, isn't it?" A small smile was playing on her lips, and as she turned to acknowledge his statement, she again took notice of how handsome he was. Hair windblown and unkempt, his face was also gently musing. He wasn't really listening, and as they walked along the main pathway Hermione sensed that he was lost in his own thoughts.
"How are we going to get to Diagon Alley from here? Apparition, right?" He seemed to come out of his trance, shaking his head a little as he smiled.
"No, we're going by broom."
"WHAT?" Hermione had never really liked flying; it was something she couldn't learn from a book. She had also seen Ron's flying style: wild and reckless. "There is NO way I'm flying with you, Ron Weasley." While she was busy fuming, Ron had pulled a fifty-pence piece from his pocket and transfigured it back into his broom.
"Why not? I'm perfectly good on a broomstick."
"We can be there in a split second if we use-"
"But this way is so much more fun."
She pulled out her wand. "I'll meet you at the Daily Prophet headquarters."
In reply, he only kicked off, yelling back, "They won't give you clearance…And do you even know where in Diagon Alley it is?"
"Well…erm…no." She pouted for a while before yelling up, "Fine! I'll ride with you! Just come down here and let me mount." His mouth twisted into a smirk and he said,
"That sounded quite dirty." On realising what he meant, Hermione flushed scarlet. "What? No furious backchat? That isn't like you." She climbed onto the broom, behind him.
"I couldn't think of anything to say." He gave her a teasing glance but his only reply was,
"Ready?"
"Yes." Ron was about to push off when he abruptly turned to her.
"If you sit like that, you'll fall off." Her arms were dangling at her sides; she didn't want to wrap her arms around him and stay in that position for however long it took (she estimated about half an hour) to get to the office. "Here, switch with me." Before she could protest, she found herself sitting at the head of the broom with Ron behind her. He draped his arms loosely around her waist, causing her pulse to flutter considerably and her face redden more than it already was. "Okay, I'll kick off for you." His breath came close to her ear and she shivered in spite of herself. She held the broom in a deathgrip as he urged it into the air.
After a minute, they were speeding along at a pretty good rate, the clouds white and puffy below them. Every so often, a splash of color would interrupt the idyllic blues and whites of their environment, signifying a city or town was below them.
"THIS is pretty." Ron's voice, so close to her face, made her lose her concentration and they dived downwards. "Whoa!" He leaned forward, grabbing the broom and pushing it back into the clouds. "What's with you? You can't be this bad of a flyer."
"You're distracting me." His hands had slid back up to her waist, but soon moved back to the polished surface of the broom as it began to waver again.
"I shouldn't have let you steer," he mumbled.
"What was that?"
"Nothing." Her forehead wrinkled as she tried to turn and look at him. "Don't turn around! You'll kill us!" He swerved, narrowly avoiding an old woman with a death wish. Her ancient Cleansweep 4 trembled violently as she shook her fist at them.
"Sorry," she mumbled sheepishly.
"Don't worry about it." He scrutinized her grip, shaking his head. "The problem with your steering-"
"My steering's usually fine…you're distracting me, that's the problem."
Ron raised his voice over her whining. "-is that you grip at a slightly odd angle. Plus you're holding it too tightly." He pried her hands off of the handle with minimum difficulty, holding them in his own. "It's more like this, see?"
"Oh." She felt relieved once he had put her hands in what he presumed was a good position…but he didn't let go. "What are you doing?"
"Teaching you to guide better." A teenage wizard zoomed past them. "See, this whole system works sort of like a Muggle freeway. During this time, there's loads of traffic and we have to stay to one side." Hermione was too preoccupied with HIM to listen to what he was saying. The crisp scent of his cologne, mingled with aftershave and freshly laundered towels and Ron was intoxicating. She felt so comfortable wrapped in his arms, and wanted nothing more than to stay there, him steering the way. 'Don't think like that, Hermione,' the resonable voice in the back of her head warned. But it was so warm and delicious and…right, and she wasn't going to be the one to end it. "You got it now?"
Despite her more practical thoughts, she found herself saying, "No, not yet. Could you repeat that?" He rolled his eyes at her, grinning a little, but he re-explained the entire shpiel just for her.
"And that's it, basically...oh, but in very high winds-" he was cut off by the sound of honking traffic. "I guess we're here." Hermione's face fell like a puppet's after its strings had been cut off. "I know it's hard for you to put so much distance between us after this, so you'd better not even try."
"Of all the arrogant, high-handed things to say!" She sputtered indignantly. "If you think-" But the broom was landing, and Hermione still couldn't land right. She was forced to rely on Ron to keep her from slipping off of the handle. "You'd better not drop me."
"I have no intention of doing that," he replied, his eyes catching hers for a second before he focused back onto the ground. They landed with a soft bump right into the back of the Leaky Cauldron. "Perfect." She had to admit, it WAS a perfect landing...but there was no way in hell she'd tell him that. "Right then..." He counted the bricks of the wall, broomstick in one hand and wand in the other. He stepped back as the wall dividing Diagon Alley from the rest of the world melted away.
"So, Almighty Journalist Extraordinare, lead the way!" She clasped her hands behind her back, walking exaggeratingly slow and primly. Her mid- length skirt flapped around her legs and her boots made soft thumping noises as she walked. Her eyes slid from store to store, eagerly taking in the changes made in them since she left. Since it was a weekday, not many people were there and she had no excuse to stand close to Ron...a fact that she secretly cursed.
"It's right over here," he ushered her into what was obviously a private lane. It was a big, imposing structure flanked by Roman-style columns, rather like the Gringotts building. Only this one had a large, white, opened scroll in place of a sign. It read 'The Daily Prophet' in big gold letters.
"Rather ostentatious, don't you think?" Ron had opened the door, letting her in first. A whoosh of cool air greeted them. The floor was a deep brown color, set with swirls of cream and gold. There were glass elevators leading to floors that reached up and up, all the way to what Hermione guessed was the...hundreth? floor. The doors were all old, polished wood with gold doorknobs.
"It suits the paper's personality." He dug around in his pockets, searching while he talked. "I mean, we ARE a bit flashy, but that's all to catch a reader's attention. Then we get into the real meat of the story...ah, here it is." He pulled a laminated ID card out, brushing off some crumbs from the front of it. "Have to remember not to keep crumpets in here..." He handed it to the receptionist at the front desk, drumming his fingers on the countertop.
"Good morning, Mr. Weasley." She smiled at him pleasantly, sliding the card into what looked to be a Muggle credit card scanner. "Let's see...you haven't been here in a while! Fifty-one messages waiting for you in your office. Kate has them all set up for you there."
"Thanks," he answered cordially. She handed him back his card, and he led Hermione to one of the elevators. "Press the button for the 89th floor, would you?" She pressed the according button, commenting,
"Newspaper offices don't usually have this nice of a building, do they?"
"You're right, they don't...and neither do we. You'll see once we get inside." The elevator doors opened into a magnificent foyer. "This floor is all mine." He flashed her a smile. "The higher up we get, the better our accomodations. Of course, I just use most of the rooms for research. There are stacks and stacks of papers everywhere..."
"Which I've just cleaned up." Ron's receptionist spoke from her desk, situated towards the middle. "And I've left all your messages on your desk." The woman eyed Hermione scrutinizingly. Her smile was artificially contrived, she could tell, and her eyes glared from under long eyelashes.
"Oh...Kate, this is Hermione Granger. Hermione, this is Kate Blythe, my secretary." The two women gave each other stiff, fake greetings. Ron, being the man that he was, didn't pick up on this. Hermione felt rather sick. The other woman was obviously very beautiful, the very picture of what Hermione didn't have. Wavy blond hair that looked as if it had been spun from gold, a slim, lithe physique, gorgeous green eyes and killer fashion sense.
'But I have a much better nose than she does,' she thought in satisfaction. Her comparisons ('long, non-frizzy hair…damn it') were abruptly stopped when Ron spoke.
"Come into my office, 'Mione. I've got some stuff you should see." Kate's eyes narrowed at the nickname, and Hermione could feel the woman's eyes boring into her back as she followed him out of the foyer. Ron opened the door to a huge room, complete with a gigantic picture window. "Hold on, let me check my messages." As he shuffled through the sheets of paper, she looked at the photographs on his desk. One of his family when they were all still very small, taken in the front yard…Ron was clutching his teddy bear in his chubby little hand, staring in fascination at the camera. Fred and George were sporting neon green hair, similar-colored lollipops stuck into their mouths. Percy, impeccable as always even in childhood, was standing next to his parents, a smug smile plastered onto his face. Ginny was still a toddler squirming in her mother's lap, a line of drool hanging from her mouth to her bib. Bill was wearing his Hogwarts Quidditch robes, his hair shorter and no fang earring in sight. Charlie was tripping over a chicken he had stuck bits of dragonhide to. Another one of the Weasleys. This time they were all young adults. Ron was wearing what Hermione presumed was his University robes, black with a red and silver crest on it. Fred and George looked pretty much the same. Ginny, looking very beautiful, was wearing a flashy set of Gladrags Witches' Robes, smiling from ear to ear. A shiny diamond ring sparkled from her finger. Bill and Charlie also looked much the same as they did when Hermione last saw them, only Bill had finally cut his hair and Charlie was sporting a burn on the side of his cheek.
"What's that big ring on Ginny's finger?"
"She's engaged," Ron muttered, flipping through another message. "To Harry. No, she's not married yet-" He saw the surprised look on her face, and hastily explained it away. "You're still on the invite list, 'Mione…can't get out of it."
"I wouldn't want to." To avoid his eyes, Hermione picked up another photo frame. This was of their little group at Hogwarts in the Great Hall. The three of them were in the middle. Harry, glasses slightly askew and hair as messy as it had always been, was grinning slyly at she and Ron, who were both blushing furiously…they were seated next to each other. Her hair was still bushy, she thought with a mild tinge of disgust, and several books were piled on the ground next to her. Her Prefect badge was shined up and ready to go, pinned proudly onto the front of her robes. Ron's ears were an interesting shade of purple by now, and he looked positively murderous. Seamus was sitting next to Harry, Lavender in his lap. They both had goofy smiles plastered on their faces, but they were looking at each other instead of at the camera. Dean was hopping up and down, trying to gain attention, and Parvati was powdering her nose. Neville was a blur to the side of Hermione…he had tripped over one of her books.
"Shit." Ron crossed the room hurriedly, opening an owl cage. "Alright, Widge, go deliver this." He tied a letter to the owl's legs and let it out through the window. "There's breaking news right now."
"What?"
"Dark activity. This message was left here an hour ago. If we're lucky, we'll catch it." While he was pulling on his cloak, he asked, "D'you want to stay at my place or Apparate back home?"
"You don't want me to come?"
"It's dangerous."
"Honestly, Ron! It can't be more dangerous than our seven years at Hogwarts!" She glared at him. "I'm coming."
"I don't want you hurt."
"I won't get any more hurt than you will." He sighed impatiently.
"You're a stubborn one, aren't you?"
"I learned from the best." He gave her a look of exasperation before caving in.
"Yeah, yeah…just stick with me."He pulled out his wand. "Okay, let's go."
A/N: I know this is a departure from the previous chapters, but its getting to the main plot of the story. So please review anyway, even if its not as fluffy as the other chapters!!! Thanks.