Chapter Four

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"Why'd you give me a gift?"

He merely raised his eyebrow, taking one glance at her and then going back to The Daily Prophet. "Is this the way you show people your gratitude?"

Hermione's cheeks flushed. "When I find out the reason behind your unusual thoughtfulness, then I'll thank you."

"So you don't trust me yet?"

"Unfortunately, no."

"Even when we've been helping each other out, school-wise?"

"Yes."

"Even when I kindly saved you from possible danger?"

"Yes."

Draco put down the newspaper, lifted his feet up on the table and crossed his arms, his expression amused and smug. "Are you implying that I did something to the quill which would benefit me and possibly make you perish in some malicious way?"

Hermione looked thoughtful. Of course she did! His gift was undoubtedly a magnificent one, and she adored it the moment she took sight of it, but the thought that it came from Draco Malfoy no less was quite disturbing. What if he jinxed it to splatter indelible ink on her? What if, all of a sudden, it began to attack her while she was innocently completing an essay?

Draco smirked. "I'm guessing that, by the expression on your face, your answer would be yes?" He ran a hand through his un-gelled hair, and stared at her, his gray eyes flickering with enjoyment. "I can assure you that the quill is undeniably safe. As tempting as the thought of jinxing the quill for my pleasure is, I did not do anything to it to endanger your precious life, Granger."

"How can I be so sure of that?"

"Why don't you try writing with it? That is the purpose of a quill, is it not?"

But her initial question was still left unanswered. Hermione fidgeted on her seat and looked at him questioningly. "So why did you give me a gift?" she asked. "I didn't even tell you it was my birthday!"

"Oh, I felt generous. You should consider yourself lucky, receiving a gift from a Malfoy."

"Surely," she replied dryly. But how in the world did he find out about her birthday anyway? Her mind reeled, remembering the previous nights – and then she recalled the blanket, that which he clearly took from her own bedroom, which meant that…

She gasped and glared at him angrily. "You went to my room!" she cried. "You went to my room without my consent and permission! You broke one house rule which, I might add, you made!"

"Hey, it was an emergency!" Draco defended. "I suppose breaking our rules because of an emergency can be an exception!" But then a mischievous glint glimmered in his eyes afterwards and he grinned maliciously. "Of course, I do have to admit that I lingered a bit longer than I should have…"

Hermione reddened with embarrassment and fury. What could he have possibly seen or done in her room? Oh, she dearly hoped that he did not go burrowing through her closet or trunk. She'd make sure that she locked them in the future.

At that moment, Draco leaned in across the table over to her and smirked. "And might I add, you have wonderful knickers, Granger."

Hermione's eyes widened in horror and she yelped squeakily, gawking helplessly at the boy staring rather seriously at her. Only when he laughed a few seconds later, with him rolling on the couch in extreme hilarity did Hermione's death glare return to her face. Finding herself speechless, she contented herself with throwing pillows smack straight and hard at Draco's face.

"You – smack – are - smack – an evil – smack – and perverted – prat – smack – Malfoy!"

He laughed.

"You – smack – are – smack – sick!"

Tears began to well in his eyes as he snickered.

"You are impossible!" And after what seemed to be a dozen pillows flying across the Common Room as the Head Girl attacked the Head Boy, Hermione stood up, huffing and panting with irritation and glaring at the still laughing Draco Malfoy. Apparently her pillow assault did not do anything to humble the big old prat. She patted her hair in an attempt to flatten it and adjusted her clothes. This was a complete waste of her time. "Well, I'm off for a spot of breakfast, Malfoy." She said curtly. "I'll see you later then."

Before she exited their Common Room through the Portrait Hole, she took out her wand, pointed it at her bedroom door and did a series of spells to guarantee that it was safely locked. She pocketed her wand and cheekily grinned at her partner. "Good morning, Malfoy." And with that, she left him still rolling around the sofa and clutching his stomach in laughter.

&&&&&&&&

That day, Hermione spent most of her free time with Harry and Ron either at the Gryffindor Common Room or at the castle grounds by the lake where they lounged lazily under a beech tree. Thankfully, there had not been much work for them to do for the following Monday, which allowed them to waste their time away on playing Exploding Snap or Wizard Chess, which the two boys were currently doing beside her as Hermione read yet another thick book on Advanced Transfiguration.

However, she could not seem to concentrate, for her mind aimlessly wandered on thoughts about Malfoy, who managed to keep her flaring in anger whenever she saw him that day; every time they crossed paths his lips seemed to curve into an amused smirk, his gray eyes twinkling with laughter from the earlier events of the day. Hermione snapped the book shut in frustration, her hands itching to wring the ferret's neck to satisfy her needs of torturing him.

He was definitely impossible, wasn't he? He was an enigma: his actions were completely impossible to predict. At times he was the usual prick on her side, always prepared to make her day a living hell; but then there were fleeting moments when she could totally relate to him and even laugh at something he said. Sometimes, he could act so… pleasant. Most of the time, however, he was irritating. He was an irksome mystery which she had no patience to put up with when in his exasperating mode.

Gathering her things, Hermione stood up from their spot and looked down at her two friends who were still busy playing their little games. "I'm off to the library," she said, tightening the scarf wrapped around her neck, "I'll meet you two for dinner later."

"Yes, alright." Came Ron's absent-minded retort.

"Bye, 'mione." Said Harry distractedly.

Hermione rolled her eyes good-naturedly, and set back to the castle on her own. Seeing as all peace of mind left her, she wondered what she'd do now; she could not seem to be able to concentrate on reading, now that her mind was poisoned with disagreeable thoughts of Draco Malfoy. Perhaps she could go back to their Common Room? Malfoy wouldn't be there, and he'd probably be back after dinner.

Perhaps because he'd be too busy snogging yet another victim. She was sickened with the thought. She had seen him going at it with different girls each week since sixth year, and it was too sad for her to say that she had been witness to it more than once. Ugh.

"Hermione Granger!"

Hermione shook out of her reverie and looked ahead of her to see who had called her name.

And there was Justin, a vision in black and – Hermione thought it rather sad – yellow. She briefly wondered why members of a House loved their own colors so much, and that included her, realizing that she herself was wearing a crimson sweater.

"Justin," she breathed, her insides suddenly like mush. Was that a broad smile forming on her face and was her heart beating rather too quickly? She didn't care.

"I've been wanting to bump into you," he replied, the moment they were now right beside each other, making their way through the hallway. "Are you done with that Arithmancy paper Professor Vector asked us for? It's due around next week, isn't it?"

"Yes," she replied. Look at those bright brown eyes. She wanted to drown in them. "Malfoy and I are almost halfway done, I think. How's yours going with Ernie?"

He shrugged. "Oh, fine, I suppose. Only, there's still something amiss with one portion of a point we have to discuss – the one about the magical number theory?"

"Oh, that – yeah, that was a tricky part. We haven't finished that part yet either."

Justin's eyes seemed to light up at her words. "Really? Then do you mind if we research on it together right now?"

Her smile widened at his offer. "Oh, alright. I'm not doing anything now, anyway."

"Brilliant! Let's meet at the library in ten minutes?"

"Okay."

And she watched as he sped off in another direction as she herself smiled to herself in glee.

Finally.

A boy who was as close as being her intellectual equal.

Who happened to be handsome and charming in a boy-next-door kind of way.

Of course, Draco didn't think so. He did not like it one bit when he saw her and her Mudblood friend sharing a table together in the library. Good thing he was casually passing by or he would never have known!

He completely did not approve that his partner was fraternizing with another person who already happened to have a partner of his own! The Mudblood was as thick as ever – did she not see in that Finch-Fletchley and his dastardly plans? Just because the Hufflepuff showed remote interest in her did not mean that she had to turn into goo whenever he talked to her; so apparently, Granger did like him a lot!

Not that he cared the least.

Draco did not care whom Granger fancied or dated; all he cared about was that she was unknowingly helping Finch-Fletchley and his partner get a grade which could possibly (but God forbid) be equally compared to their own! And Draco did not like having to share his – alright, their – glory! He and Granger were top of their class! Therefore, no one else was allowed to share such an honorable spot other than the two of them! That was why they were the Head Boy and Girl, for crying out loud.

Stupid, she was.

She really was a Gryffindor.

This was why he was here, right now, in their cozy Common Room, sitting anxiously and irritably on the couch, waiting for Granger to come. Dinner had finished earlier and she was bound to come up at any time.

Which, finally, she did, ten minutes later, all sorts of Arithmancy materials in her hands and an apparent satisfied smile plastered on her face. She walked in to find Draco there, staring – or rather, glaring at her.

"What's with the sour look, Malfoy?"

"What in bloody hell were you doing with Finch-Fletchley at the library?" He spat the Hufflepuff's name like venom.

A bright blush crossed her features and she coughed awkwardly. "What? We were researching!" Her eyes narrowed. Suspiciously, she added, "And have you been following me?"

"Of course not! Why in the world would I waste my time on you?"

"I thought so." She set the things down on a nearby study desk and placed her hands on her hips. "And why do you care anyway?"

"Because you're fraternizing with the enemy."

Hermione tilted her head and looked at him strangely. "Have you gone crazy? Justin's not the enemy."

"You're letting him use you to his advantage! You're helping him out in Arithmancy!"

"And he's helping me out too, Malfoy," she replied exasperatedly. "Honestly, what's gotten into you? I would have helped out any other person if they needed it. You're going against rule number one."

Draco stood up. "What?" he asked blankly.

"Rule number one clearly states that it is imperative that we mind each other's business. You, sir, are going against stated rule."

"I am not going against it – this business concerns me – because this is our grade too. I have every right to butt in this business of yours."

"What about our grade?"

"Helping that git while we ourselves aren't done with our own paper decreases our chances of getting the highest score in class."

"I'm not in the mood to bicker, Malfoy." Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed, frustrated. "Would it help if we let go of this and I feed you some cookies?"

Draco scoffed. Cookies? She thought that cookies would make them calm down?

Right.

But off she went to her room, only to come out later with the usual container of the sugar-free cookies Draco appeared to enjoy every other night. Hermione sat down on the carpeted floor and opened the container, releasing the sweet, baked scent of the pastry. "Sit," she commanded, but when he wouldn't budge, she pulled him down right beside her and launched a piece in his mouth when he opened to protest.

Draco moodily finished his cookie and glared at her menacingly. She wasn't at all fazed by it at all; then again, he bet that she was used to his mean looks now, seeing as they were living in the same quarters together. Instead, what she did was to smile all too sweetly and brush away the crumbs that were left near his mouth.

"Thank Merlin that shut you up," she grinned as she placed yet another piece in his mouth. "Oh, and I believe I didn't thank you earlier for your gift. I used it today in the library and it's lovely."

"I told you it wasn't jinxed," he replied, his cheeks still a bit pink from when she touched her face for the second time. He sat a bit straighter and turned to look at her. "You'd better make sure that our paper'll be perfect."

"Of course it will," Hermione replied. "That's why you're here to help me."

&&&&&&&&

October came, the very month that autumn was especially evident in the way that all leaves of all kinds were now in varied shades of red and orange and were all scattered and littered upon the earth in a most artful way. The air was a lovely chill, a crisp cold, all too perfect for the season of Quidditch to finally begin.

Up in the castle one afternoon, Professor Vector distributed the papers his students worked on in the last month. In a proud voice, he announced that the two Heads had, once again, bagged the highest score in class, coming first before Justin Finch-Fletchley and Ernie MacMillan.

Once Hermione took hold of their masterpiece (she resolved to call it that when they had finally finished it one night last September), she squealed in apparent joy and took Draco by surprise when she threw her arms around him in happiness. He was all too startled to do anything and was aware that they were in class; a Gryffindor did not have any physical contact with a Slytherin, unless they were engaging in a brawl in public.

Thankfully enough, she finally let go and appeared not to be perturbed about what she had done; perhaps, he deduced, she did it so often with Potter and Weasley that hugs no longer really mattered. Draco, however, was left feeling a bit too warm and empty. He briefly wondered if he'd be receiving more of her hugs in the future.

"I told you, Malfoy," she said in a proud voice, "And we did it again! We got a 125!"

"Yes, well, that's all thanks to me," he pointed out smugly.

"Well, at least half of it," she replied bitingly.

"Oh, please –"

"If it weren't for me, we wouldn't –"

"Stop flattering yourself, Granger –"

"I'm just stating facts –"

They filed out of the classroom as soon as the bell rang to end the day, with the two Heads still bickering quite loudly as usual along the way to the Great Hall. It was a common sight for all to see the two lash out at each other before, during and after classes they had together, that most students thought this normal and rather uninteresting. Normally, no one intervened, and they themselves stopped squabbling on their own. Right now, only when someone tapped Hermione on the shoulder did the two stop to turn around to see who it was.

To Hermione's glee and to Draco's irritation, it was Justin Finch-Fletchley yet again, holding up their own paper which had a score of 100. "And it's all thanks to you, Hermione," he said, his hand, Draco noticed, latched onto her arm. This annoying prick had a habit of showing up around Granger more than usual nowadays, and if it did not bother her at all, it certainly bothered him.

"Oh, no, I'm sure you and Ernie did splendidly," she replied, smiling a bit too widely, and – was that a dreamy expression on the face of Hermione Granger?

Draco rolled his eyes. They weren't even paying attention to his very presence! He did not like to be ignored and he did not like the Hufflepuff talking too long with his partner. Weren't they supposed to be going along their way now?

"Granger, I'm going back up to the Common Room. Will you be coming along?" he asked unpleasantly, but he did not get a reply. The Gryffindor was still too busy talking to Finch-Fletchley.

"Hey, I'm on my way to the Great Hall, Hermione. Want to come?" Justin flashed an eager smile at Hermione, who, Draco noted with distaste, blushed. Ugh. Really, now. She actually liked this boy? She did not have any taste at all.

"Sure, I'd love to," she replied, nodding vigorously at him. Turning towards Draco, she shoved her bag at him rather hardly. "You wouldn't mind bringing my bag, upstairs, now do you, Malfoy?"

"Wha –"

"Thanks, I'll see you later!" And she practically skipped along the way to the Great Hall with the Hufflepuff skipping right beside her. He watched as they disappeared round the corner, leaving him outside the Arithmancy classroom, looking like a right idiot with two bags of books hanging on each of his shoulder. His lip curled; he glared down at Hermione's bag, which he realized was far heavier than his own, and was tempted to discard it right on the stone floor.

Hermione just left him!

People did not leave Draco Malfoy – he left them!

And to think that it was a Mudblood and a Gryffindor who had the nerve to do so. Bloody girl, he hated her now more than ever. And to abandon his company to spend her time with – with a Mudblood like her? Well, he should have expected it after all. Birds of a feather flock together.

Well, who said I wanted her company anyway? Draco trudged towards their Common Room to leave their bags behind for dinner. He felt like a house elf now; he was not one to carry other people's burdens (in this case Hermione's bag which seemed to be full of hard, heavy rocks) but here he was, Draco Malfoy, prominent member of an ancient Pureblood family, lugging the belongings of a Muggleborn witch. Oh, the shame.

He'd have to deal with her later.

&&&&&&&&

"Oh, he's absolutely brilliant, Gin!" Hermione cried happily, her amber eyes lighting up quite dramatically. "I mean, he's smart, he's funny, he's absolutely charming – oh, he's wonderful."

The youngest Weasley turned to look at her as she applied a bit of face powder. "Ah, yes," Ginny murmured, "Justin Finch-Fletchley is quite a catch. But so is Draco Malfoy."

The euphoria and giddiness of Hermione quickly drained the moment the redhead girl mentioned the name of her partner. "What about Malfoy?" she asked off-handedly, waving her hand as if to keep the topic of the Slytherin away from her current joy.

"In spite of the fact that he is rude, evil, malicious, mean, and oh all the horrible things that one could possibly throw at him, I, and the rest of the female population of the school, would like to consider him a great catch. Look, Hermione, to put things simply, Malfoy is – well, gorgeous. You could ask either Parvati or Lavender to confirm such a truth."

Hermione laughed. Malfoy? Gorgeous? The desire of every girl in Hogwarts? If they only knew how it was to be with him every single day. "Interesting how I don't seem to see such an attribute whenever I'm with him, Ginny," Hermione replied sardonically.

"Well, that's because you're too busy verbally fighting with him." Ginny sighed. "If you would only take a moment to observe him."

Hermione glanced at her reflection in the mirror and perceived an image of the Slytherin Head Boy in her mind. Well, she had to admit, he had fair hair she'd kill to have. Silky strands of gold one would ache to have her hands run through. And then there were his eyes, orbs of silver which reminded Hermione of cool, rainy days and which had the unusual power of calming her. And then he undoubtedly had such a good – if not great – body. Considering the countless times she had seen him coming out of the shower in nothing but a towel, she could testify to such a thing.

But then, she could not forget that he had a habit of raking through those fine tendrils of blonde hair whenever he was feeling smug about her; she could always be sure that those pools of gray that were his eyes were always filled with less than pleasant emotions; and with his body – well, Hermione could not think anything bad about the body.

Still, despite the fact that Draco Malfoy indeed was not 'horribly deformed' (she would refuse to call him handsome because handsome connoted Justin Finch-Fletchley), that did not get rid of his more terrible traits. Hermione's eyes twinkled with laughter, recalling his many queer habits and quirks she had noticed in a month and was sure no one else knew other than the people who lived in close parameters with him. Such habits included a great obsessive-compulsive trait much worse than her, or a strange tendency to clean when he was reviewing himself for a test, or a practice of humming to himself while completing an essay. Oh, and of course, he seemed to be at a loss whenever he realized that there would be nothing to munch on whenever they were studying at night – a custom, Hermione was proud to say, which Draco got from her.

Still, though, Hermione laughed. Beneath that cool, attractive demeanor, she could still see the scrawny little ferret boy who lived to torture their lives when they were younger. Draco Malfoy, she thought, was somewhat like Harry and Ron to her – a boy whom she had grown up with, only the difference was that she hated him and he hated her.

"Whatever, Ginny," she said, still chuckling to herself. "I still find Justin a much better catch than a hundred catches of Malfoy."

&&&&&&&&

Fridays meant Quidditch training for the Slytherin team. Aside from being Head Boy, Draco found himself the Captain of his House team as well, an honor he was glad to have, a position Professor Snape had proudly given him at the end of his sixth year. First game of the year would be with Ravenclaw and he would make sure that they won it – then again, Ravenclaw was an easy team to beat; it was the other two which were tougher.

Fridays also meant patrols. That meant that right after practice he'd have to rush down to the Great Hall for dinner, then change quickly to his school robes and find Granger. Such a routine was quite difficult to do, and that was why he found his Friday nights the most exhausting of all. Tonight was no exception; as he surveyed his players training in the air, he briefly wondered if he could ask Granger if she could do it alone tonight. But that would not be a good idea – he remembered the last time she went alone on patrol. She had gotten herself unconscious!

As soon as eight o'clock struck, he blew a silver whistle and called the night off. His teammates bid him goodbye and he flicked his wand to keep away the Quidditch balls. As soon as they were kept, he sighed, looked up at the night sky and wished that he could fly a bit longer. But it wouldn't be nice to keep his counterpart waiting, now, would it? Then again, with a nasty, sly smile, Draco remembered that he wasn't nice at all. Granger could wait – the night was calling him.

And so he kicked off into the air, zooming about the Quidditch Pitch in ecstasy that he only felt whenever he was on his Nimbus 2001, and howled into the night as he skidded here and there, a broad grin on his face.

"Malfoy!"

A yell from below halted him to a stop and he looked down to see a miniscule Hermione Granger glaring back up at him. He scowled, rolling his eyes. Drat, she had come for him, but he would not yet come down – he didn't want to. And besides, how in the world would she be able to stop him?

"So you've found me, Granger," he called down, swooping a bit nearer to the ground.

"Do you know what time it is, Malfoy?" came the annoyed tone of the Head Girl. "It's eight thirty! According to our altered schedule, we were supposed to be patrolling half an hour ago! Or did that just casually slip your mind?"

"Yes, it did, Granger. Flying does that to people, sometimes."

"Well, get down here this instant because I'm getting cold and I'd like to finish the patrol so that I could do some reading!"

"No." Draco flew past her and then right above her. "I don't want to – not yet."

"What do you mean, not yet?"

"I'd like to fly a bit more," he replied, "You're free to join me if you want – it's great fun, Granger."

"No! Will you please come down?"

"No? Why, Granger, afraid?" He cackled.

Silence.

Draco swooped down to the ground and tilted his head, looking curiously at the girl in front of him.

Ah, yes.

Now he remembered. Hermione Granger, since the first Flying Lesson in their first year, was terrified of flying. Watching her shift her feet uncomfortably and her cheeks turning a bit red confirmed such fear.

"I can't believe you're afraid of flying, Granger," he remarked, surprised, "And you have two best friends who are on the Quidditch team! Don't tell me they never took you flying."

She looked up and smiled sheepishly. "Well – that's just right. They know how scared I am of flying, that's why they never bothered to do so."

"That's not a good enough reason not to take you." He looked blankly at her. "I'll take you then. Then you'll realize that you love it."

A second later he was pulling her by the hand, with her flailing her free hand and resisting uselessly against his pull. "No, Malfoy – no – please let me go – we have to do our patrols or else it'll be too late to do so – Malfoy –"she pleaded, "I – I have my wand! Let me go – or – I'll hex you –"

But Draco glanced at her flatly and continued on towards the middle of the field. "Honestly, Granger, you really should conquer your fears," he muttered, "and now I sound so unlike me because I said that."

"Alright, you could fly as much as you want! Just leave me out of it!" She shrieked, but still his hold on her did not loosen at all. "Let me go, Malfoy, let me –"

But off they went up into the night, with Hermione shrieking and yelling right behind him, her arms latched tightly around his waist, clinging onto him for dear life. Draco grinned and sped over the Forbidden Forest, then around the pinnacles and towers of the school, and he relished in the cool of the evening air, and somehow hoped that what he felt could also be felt by the girl who was still screaming.

And finally he turned round back to the Quidditch Pitch, satisfied with his flying for the evening and safely landed on the ground. "See, Granger, it wasn't that awful, now was it?" he said, smirking as he gathered his broomstick and turned round to face her. "You were stupid thinking it was stupid –"

But Hermione Granger was now crying.

Sobbing.

Perhaps she was more terrified of flying than she was of dying.

She was like a little girl, a lost child who was in search of her parents but couldn't at all find them, and Draco did not know how to handle a crying girl. He was at a loss on what to do, wondering whether or not he should scold her to stop crying or console her. Tentatively he drew close to the Head Girl, and in a cautious voice asked, "Er – Granger?"

And suddenly she was beating her fists weakly against his chest, her beautiful brown eyes moist and bright, tears running down her face in fear and panic. "I told you not to bring me along! I told you – you don't know how terrified I am of brooms and flying!" She sobbed, "This is why Harry and Ron never brought me with them! Because they know and care – you didn't – you just wanted to see me scream – I hate you, Malfoy –"

What was Draco to do now? He honestly didn't know! So flying was the Gryffindor Know-It-All's greatest phobia. At least he knew now, didn't he? "Look, I didn't know you were that scared, Granger," he replied cautiously, "I really didn't know – and – I'm sorry then, Granger – really!"

And now she was sobbing against his chest, and he had no choice but to wrap a reluctant arm around her, patting her awkwardly on the head, telling her that she was no longer flying in the air and that she was alive right now and was very much safe around… well, him. There went the unusual warmth spreading through his entire body, the tender feeling he only experienced whenever Hermione was in contact with him. Damn it, He thought angrily, now was not the time to dwell on such unimportant things!

Her sobs softened into light sniffles and he looked down at her face, tear-streaked, and yet, to Draco, very much striking. "I suppose you've done all the crying that you could do?" he asked, wearing once more his infamous smirk, and he was pleased enough to see her smiling slightly. He lightly patted her on the head and said, "There, there, Mudblood, you're alright now."

It was strange how feelings of protectiveness for this girl suddenly jolted in him, and briefly Draco wondered if this was what Weasley and Potter felt whenever they were on their crazy adventures with Hermione; after all, she was the only girl in their trio, and thus physically and emotionally the weakest.

Instead of a light hug or some sort of appreciation for his consoling her, however, Hermione stomped angrily on his foot and pinched his ear. Draco yelped as Hermione almost twisted his ear in anger. "Don't you ever do that again, you little ferret!" She yelled, "Or I will do something so – so – oh, I don't know!"

And with one more painful stomp on his foot, Hermione wiped her tears away and began to trod away back to the castle. "Come on, Malfoy!" she shouted, "We have patrolling to do!"

Draco nursed his ear gently and glared at the retreating figure of Hermione. So much for those feelings of protectiveness. He wanted nothing more than to pull her hair or at the most bring her back up into the air and hear her helpless screams.

&&&&&&&&

Author's note: Sorry for the late update. I had to work on my entry for the dmhgficexchange. :P I'm done with it at least, so I could now focus on this one. I sure hope you liked this chapter. Please review – it'll certainly make my day. And thank you so much to those who had reviewed last time!