Wow…Chapter 19 already? this has gone by too fast… :( Anyway, thank yous are at the end.

This chapter is dedicated to: MandaPandaAR for her wonderful idea—thanks so much.

Hermione slid down the door, and hugging her knees to her chest, she cried silently. But silent tears are the ones that show how much you are hurting inside—she didn't know why she had gotten so attached to him. He was the Dark Lord, and she was Harry Potter's best friend. He was so charming and kind and filled with emotion and power.

"But, then again," she thought, "so is Antares."

"Oh, this is so confusing." Hermione said grimly, her head in her hands.

"It's not that bad, Granger. Chin up." A low voice came from her right.

"Yes it is." Hermione responded, just as miserably, not looking up and keeping her head covered.

"Nonsense." The voice said, much closer. He gave her a soft kiss on the head, and she jumped in surprise—she hadn't realized he was that close.

"Ahh!" she screamed quietly, looking up. Her heart rate settled immensely as she gazed into the brightest, most sparkling grass-green eyes. "Andy! You're feeling better then?"

"Much." He replied, smiling his shining grin. "Madam Pomfrey healed me in a trice, though she said my ribs would be hurting for a while. She gave me some pain killers."

"That's good. But I can't help but feel this is all my fault." She confessed dismally.

"And why in the blazing hell would that be?"

"Because I had a relationship with you. Even if it wasn't technically one. And you know Riddle. Yes, it has to do with him—you were right." She added at his triumphant look. "I think he was either jealous or just spiteful and told Avery and Miles about us and they took it too literally and just about killed you."

"Well then it'd be my mistake, wouldn't it?" he said, but looking at her puzzled expression, he clarified. "I made the moves on you, not the other way around. That's why they went after me, not you."

"That's absurd. It's just 'cause Riddle was for some ridiculous reason attracted to me, and in any case, why would any true gentleman attack a girl?" Hermione said, though fully aware that she was infatuated with Tom just as much as he was with her.

"You know how much I don't like Riddle, Hermione. But his reason for liking—and from the looks of it, even love—you is no secret. You're beautiful, smart, funny, adventurous, and a great friend. What, pray tell, is not to like?" Andy admitted, looking down.

"Well when you say it like that, it sounds like nothing is!" Hermione protested defiantly.

"Exactly."

Hermione opened her mouth to retort of all the things that she hated about herself—that many people (such as Malfoy and Pansy), had no problem in making fun of her. But something in Andy's eyes told her that she would not win the situation…and for a reason that escaped her, she found that she couldn't speak, or at least couldn't come up with a defense. Maybe he was right. Maybe there really was nothing wrong with her. Perhaps all the Slytherins (and even Ron) just couldn't come up with a good enough snide remark, so they just had to throw her smarts or appearance in her face. Perhaps they were…jealous? But that was absolutely ridiculous! Malfoy being jealous of the bookish, unattractive, know-it-all? What was the world coming to?

"But—But how are we supposed to prevent them from attacking you again?" Hermione asked helplessly.

"That's not the question." Antares said forcefully. "The question is—how are you going to make up with Riddle?"

Hermione was astounded, and she even vaguely felt her mouth hang open. Was he really saying what she thought he was? Her ears must have been failing her. "Excuse me? He is the most arrogant, selfish, power-hungry, egoistical jerk that I have ever—" Something about Antares's both triumphant and smug look on his face and in his eyes stopped her. She sighed. "He is the most adorable, engaging, attentive, facetious man I have ever had the delightful delectation to meet."

"I thought so." He said with a bright gleam in his eyes, not even trying to hide his enjoyment. "And more than have met, from what I've seen." He added impishly.

It took a few seconds for her to realize what he meant, and when she got it, she gasped and laughingly hit him on the arm where he pretended to grimace in pain. "Antares Nebadon Black, you are such an ass sometimes!" she said authoritatively.

"But I'm such a charming and captivating ass." He said flirtingly.

"Oh, shut up." She replied teasingly.

Something in Hermione broke as she realized their playful bantering and joking exhibitions. It was exactly like what she, Harry and Ron would do. How she missed them. Harry's delightful but pained and distressed eyes and demeanor, but with the occasional witty remark; Ron's idiocy, but lovable and hilarious just the same. And Hermione, always nagging them about their studies, but joining in in the occasional game, or giving them a day off, so just the three of them could wander or walk about the castle together.

She started sobbing right in front of Antares as she thought about all the good times, laughs and adventures that they all took with one another. Their determination to help each other through any hardship; their devotion and undying care with the others, no matter what the circumstances were. They would always be there for each other, and even with the rare outburst or coldness, everything would eventually turn out for the better. Hermione truly started crying when she thought about the possibility that she would never be able to see them again. Never be able to see Harry's smiling, polite, fanatical glimmer; never able to see Ron's ignorant, joking, but awkward demeanor again. Never again be able to go on late night searches in the library, or ruthlessly help them with homework while they incessantly bickered about Quidditch. They would never be the likable, sometimes annoying trio again…instead, they would be the inseparable twosome…and the lonely, solitary brainiac, never to reunite again.

She hardly heard Andy's comforting words and calming actions, as she just sat there on the cold, sterile Hospital Wing floor, crying her usually cheerful eyes out. The tears seemed to never stop. Like they were waiting for the right time to fall freely. Apparently right now was it. She hardly cared that her face was wet with them, and ignored the fact that her skirt now had spreading, dark drops on it. Not noticing any of her surroundings, but only the sadness of the likelihood of never going back. She wondered if she would even have any tears left, for they showed no signs of stopping. She hadn't even realized that Andy had taken her into his arms while she evidently rested her shaking head against his chest while he continued to try and comfort her.

"Shh, Hermione…everything will be okay. It will all turn out fine." Andy said softly.

"I-It w-w-won't." Hermione sobbed, her voice muffled in his shirt.

Hermione didn't notice the white door open, but Andy did. He looked up, and gave an exasperated but nevertheless relieved look at the enterer. He motioned with his eyes at the weeping, miserable girl in his arms. The now kneeling boy nodded in sad recognition, and Andy observed, smiling faintly, the single red rose lying temporarily forgotten on the still bed beside him. Andy glanced at it and back to the concerned and apologetic shine in Tom's dark eyes. Despite himself, Andy felt a softening occur in his heart at the sight of Tom's sincerity. Even though Andy still despised him, he couldn't help but feel a little for the heart-wrenching look that Tom had as he was staring at Hermione's still crying (and unaware) form.

"Go on. She needs you." Antares mouthed to Tom, who nodded, and even managed a small smile.

"Thank you." Tom replied gratefully. "I'm sorry."

"Hermione, there's someone that wants to say something to you." Antares said softly.

He couldn't help but watch out of the corner of his eye Tom retrieve the beautiful flower off of the bed. One petal had extricated itself from the rest, and Andy, with a mischievous glint, got an idea, but waited for the right moment, but whether it would be sooner or later, he didn't know yet. He watched Hermione's head slowly incline to look at the new arrival, but she made no move to disperse her tears, as they were still falling, albeit slightly slower. As she caught sight of Tom's endlessly brown eyes, her breath caught as she moved closer to Andy, grabbing his hand behind her back. Andy was aware of the pained and hurt look written all over the man's face, and he pulled out of Hermione's grasp, much to her silent objections. He gave her a reassuring squeeze as he lightly pressed on the small of her back, moving her closer to the dark-haired boy in front of her. She had both a dreamy and transfixed wonder on her pale face, as the final tears from her cocoa-hued eyes dropped to the ground.

Andy smiled as Hermione suddenly flung herself upon Tom, sobbing again into his defined chest, as he wrapped his arms comfortingly around her. She closed her eyes tightly as she felt trapped tears clinging to her lashes. She inhaled his sweet scent, and she witnessed a great wave of emotion pass from him all the way through her, and she no longer felt deserted, but reassured and sheltered. She had no inkling of how long exactly he had held her, but she paid no mind to it as she never got tired of it. Never in her entire sixteen years of life had she felt as safe and loved as this, and never before had she lost track of time, except in one other instance, which, consequently, had been with the same person she was now embracing.

He unexpectedly but gently pulled himself away from her, and she noticed with a phantom of a smile that Andy had left silently, and she felt more for him now than ever. He was turning out to be a mix of both Harry and Ron—brave and always had the right thing to say, but also slightly unsure of himself and even appeared like an idiot sometimes. She returned her gaze to Tom, who was now holding something, and she glanced at it, then back at him with a disbelieving look in her eyes.

"This is for you." he said quietly as he handed her the most scarlet and beautiful smelling rose to her, and she shakily accepted it. "And I'm so, so sorry, Hermione."

She had no choice but to gaze up at him, for the sincerity and seriousness in his deep voice. She barely acknowledged fresh tears falling from her glistening eyes as she continued to stare at him. She had honestly never expected to hear this tone of voice coming from Lord Voldemort. It just wasn't to be considered even. Then she realized something. Everyone back in her time had branded him as cold, merciless, cruel, and foreboding. And, yes, truth be, he did deserve it. But no one had even thought that he might have actually had a heart, no matter how much he did not show it. They just assumed from all his heartless actions that he didn't really have feelings. And Hermione had believed it herself. Until that comment that he made. Sure, now he was just Tom Riddle, but, as Dumbledore made every point to punctuate, he was already well on his way to becoming the Dark Lord. Not now. His eyes held truth, warmth, and joy, not ice, indifference, and spite. It was a whole other feeling for Hermione. Here he was, the most evil that you could go, showing undying compassion and empathy. One moment had gone against all her beliefs—everyone's beliefs. It was just too much to handle. She had to make sure, once and for all, that she wasn't dreaming.

She slowly set down the rose, and gradually lifted her eyes to look at him. In one quick movement, her lips were on top of his in a warm, trusting embrace. Truth be told, it was an earth-shattering, unyielding, and incredibly fiery kiss, but it was all they had been hoping and waiting for. All their frustrations and miseries and feelings were all directed unceasingly into this one burning bond. Their lips and skin heated up with each other's touch, but it only increased their want to continue. Neither hardly felt their tongues now entwined in an equally heated connection, the kiss deepening in fervor and arduousness with each passing second. The air was getting electrified with the vehemence emanating off of both of them, and for all the two observed of their surroundings, they might as well have lost all their senses. They hadn't realized that Tom was now on top of Hermione on the nearest bed, for the kiss never faltered or subsided in intensity, and, in fact, they were afraid something would happen if they were to separate. Hermione again laced her fingers through his coffee-colored hair, while sensually tracing her finger down his neck and then to his chest, but he sustained her as he gave her a harsher, more desirous, more voracious. She felt him outline the side of her face, and continue down, only to stop right at her chest. She couldn't handle it. She pulled his dark shirt off, exposing his tanned and built torso, and with the action (which surprised herself probably even more), she felt him waver, but did not break the kiss. She trailed her hand along his back, but frowned as she felt what she knew had to be a scar, extending a length of around five inches. On top of her, she noticed him shudder at her touch, and she pulled away from the kiss to look into his blazingly dark eyes. They locked gaze for a second, before he made up some decision and kissed her again, just as amorous as before.

Andy walked up the stairs outside the Hospital Wing, pleased with himself. Though he didn't have Hermione, he knew she was truly happy, and that right now was all that mattered.

"After all," he thought, "the world is full of hopeless romantics just waiting to get a piece of this."

He was so caught up as he envisioned his perfect woman, that he didn't even notice the fact that he was about to run into a certain black-haired boy. "Miles. Come to try and kill me again?" Andy said, his voice dripping with spite.

To his surprise, Mulciber's eyes shimmered, as if he was contemplating his answer. "No. Just going to find Riddle. You seen him?" he asked, almost in a friendly or acquaintance type of way.

"Excuse me? You expect me to tell you anything after you nearly ended my life?" Andy asked incredulously.

"Wrong again. And in my defense, I didn't harm you. I just need to find him."

Antares laughed heartily. He couldn't believe this. "You were still there! In any case, you're right. And, yeah, I have seen him—Hospital Wing." At Miles's move to brush past him, Antares held out a forceful hand. "But I wouldn't go in there if I were you."

"And why the hell not?"

"Two words." Andy answered. "Granger. Riddle."

Disgusted comprehension dawned on Mulciber's dark face. "Oh. Right. Thanks, and I owe you."

"What? Conscience caught up with you?"

"You could say that."

"Who knew that a—what are you called? Oh yeah. Who knew that a 'Knight of Walpurgis' has a heart?"

"Shocking, I know. Look, I'm sorry, Black, but you don't know how it is to be caught in the wrong crowd." Miles confessed. Antares was getting almost frightened at this guy's seemingly defeated actions. "I was going to be tortured if I didn't join. You think I want my arm branded? Not on your life. Unfortunately for me, I had no choice. Just give me a chance. I'm not like Avery. Now I don't expect you to be friends with me—I don't want to be friends with you either—but just don't fatally hex me behind my back."

Antares looked suspiciously at Mulciber's outstretched hand. He seemed so truthful. Andy sighed, and realized fully that he was taking a great leap of faith. Very slowly, almost like signing over his soul, he reached out and shook Miles's hand. He had expected something to happen, perhaps a jolt of pain or at least something, but that was what bothered him. Nothing happened. It was just a normal, boring but trustful ultimatum.

"Tom." Hermione said delicately. He looked at her as she leaned against his now-clothed chest. She was now sitting in between his legs, his arms around her. "You said that you could never become evil with me around, didn't you?"

"Yes…" he confirmed, not quite sure where she was going with it.

"I need to show you something. And hopefully it will convince you not to be."

"What do you mean?"

Hermione grabbed her wand from the bedside table, raised it, and pointed it towards the door, aware of Tom's bewildered expression. "Accio Pensieve!"

It took a few moments, but finally Hermione heard a whistling sound, and something came shooting threw the door as she caught it. A stone bowl with strange etchings in the sides in an unknown language, Hermione peered into it. She felt Tom look in beside her. Inside was a swirling substance that was not quite liquid, but not quite vaporous either. Memories. Hermione took a deep breath and closed her eyes as she concentrated on the time when Harry had shown her and Ron his remembrance of the night that Cedric Diggory died—the night Lord Voldemort returned.

She disentangled herself from Tom, moving over so her feet dangled over the edge of the bed. Pulling the small table towards her, she set the bowl with its swirling contents on it. Meeting Tom's guarded but perplexed gaze, she motioned for him to join her. Reluctantly, he followed her example, the table in front of them. Ever so slowly, Hermione took her wand and placed it to the side of her head and again concentrated on the night of the horrifying third task. Feeling a slight resistance but relent, Tom watched, transfixed, as she extracted a silvery, stringy substance which was clinging to her wand. Satisfied but worried just the same, she cast the essence into the stone basin, and Tom frowned in amazement as he saw a black-haired, green-eyed boy with such a grisly and terrified look on his face that even Tom had to look away. With surprising urgency and force, Hermione wrenched his arm around, and compelled his face so close to the mysterious wisps that his nose was nearly touching it. With an unsettling falling sensation, Tom felt as though he was falling down, down, down to the center of what looked like a maze. There was a gleaming cup in the center, and Tom had the odd urge to go and touch it, but one look at the girl beside him refrained him.

He watched as that same young boy was calling to another older, more handsome one to take the cup. It was obvious the younger one was in great pain, and Tom noticed his leg was bloodied up and even looked greenish. The older boy refused, and helped the first up. Hermione was standing and watching with an unidentifiable image over her face, her hands clasped in front of her, and Tom would have thought she was immobile if her hands hadn't been shaking violently. Tom must have missed something, because now both boys were reaching for the cup, then vanished. Tom risked a glance at Hermione, who was still wearing the same impassive look. With sudden force, he felt like he was spinning in a horrible vortex, and immediately he was transported to what looked like a graveyard. He looked up, a bit disoriented, and saw strangely the green-eyed boy tied to a tombstone, and he noticed a man which could only be described as rat-liked doing something beneath a cauldron.

Glancing around further in trepidation, he sickeningly noticed something, and his stomach gave an unpleasantly nauseous lurch. Lying on the ground with his arms at slightly odd angles, was the immensely handsome boy with his gray eyes open, his mouth barely open as if surprised. He didn't blink, and Tom could not see the boy's chest rise or fall. Cringing and feeling his heart twang hurtfully, he couldn't help but feel his throat close up. Who would do this? The boy had a life to live. He couldn't be more than seventeen—Tom's age. Tom noticed a silver gleam on the boy's mud-splattered robes. A Prefect's badge. What motive exactly would compel someone to kill this boy? From the looks of it, he was smart—why else would he become Prefect?—handsome, liked by all, and, to describe him in one word…thriving. Tom had to tear his gaze away from fear of even a single tear to fall for this man lying in front of him. Sadly, he saw Hermione, although in the same inscrutable position, was crying silently, but for the gray-eyed man or the green-eyed, he didn't know.

Tom abruptly got the eerie feeling that they were being watched, and his skin prickled with anticipation. He forced himself to look at the cauldron (Hermione was looking there, too, but her face showed that she expected it), but as he did so, his heart felt like it exploded as he heard the most sickening yell he had ever encountered. The worst wasn't the volume, for it was not at a shrieking pitch, no. It was a yell of pain…of anguish…of sincere, ghastly terror. He whirled around to the boy that was tied to the gravestone, and he found out where the source was. The boy's arm was now dripping blood along with his leg, and Tom noticed a lightning bolt-shaped scar on the boy's forehead, appearing so because of his sweat-drenched hair. Tom sincerely felt for this boy, for he couldn't be more than fourteen or fifteen at the time, so what evil would force this obviously unprepared kid to endure that pain?

Tom followed the boy's squinted gaze towards the center of the graveyard, and immediately wished he hadn't, for right at that very moment, the rat-like man cut off his hand in a mirthless scream, the knife in his hand dripping crimson liquid. The man muttered some sort of spell, but the only words Tom could make out were the ending words: '—shall rise again.' Tom did not like this at all, and got a bad sense of foreboding as he desperately wanted to return to the school. He glanced again at the tearing Hermione, whose hands were no longer clasped, but gripped into fists at her sides, but were still shaking horridly, but this time Tom believed it was from intense anger.

His head, obviously against his will, looked up at the pathetic man, but he was not there anymore. Instead, a thing that looked like a baby—only it couldn't be a baby, could it?—was rising out of the bubbling cauldron, which Tom noticed had turned a dark red in color. The being was slowly growing until it reached the size of approximately a full-grown man. The cauldron vanished, as the man took its place, now standing up. Tom heard the boy behind him scream louder, but Tom was still mesmerized by the form, who now, Tom realized, was definitely a bald man.

Then Tom heard it. The most frightenly cold and hissing voice he could imagine. He just about lost it right there, but he found he couldn't go anywhere. He even observed that Hermione's normally beautiful face was scrunched up into one of hatred, and her knuckles were turning white. Tom knew, though he didn't know the reason, that she wanted nothing more than to kill him. There was something wrong with that man, though. His head was whiter than normal—as white as a human skull. The voice was too high—too sinister and inhuman. The flexing fingers were too long and narrow, and his head was oddly proportioned once you looked at it closely.

"M-My L-Lord." Tom heard the pitiful excuse of a man stutter.

This 'Lord' turned around slowly, his robes billowing strangely, and if Tom's voice worked, even he, the strong and intimidating Tom Marvolo Riddle, would have gasped loudly, or even give a hoarse whimper. It was now obvious that Hermione was about to go crazy with hate, and Tom had half a mind to comfort her, but knew that was a bad idea. He chanced a look back at the boy still tied to the tombstone, and immediately felt more for the boy's strength, for he looked like he was about to black out, but was holding on…with what power, Tom did not know.

Still, when Tom forced his gaze back to the Lord and his servant, he cringed visibly. The man's eyes were not brown, blue, green, or even hazel, but instead a bright, unnatural red; as red as the cauldron's liquid. He didn't have a normal nose, and in place of one that could only be attributed to that of a snake, and in fact if the slitted nostrils hadn't been moving slowly, he wouldn't have known it was a nose. The man's lips were bloodless and as white as his face, villainously thin and evil. Tom hadn't the slightest idea why Hermione was showing him this. Why did she want him to see this horrifying creature? Was it really one of her memories? Did this actually happen…or was it one of her dreams? Was the injured boy real? If so, was he alive? What would happen to this obviously Dark Lord? Tom's mind was whirling uncomfortably with questions—even to the point of throbbing.

Suddenly, the scene switched, and as he looked to Hermione again to ask her what happened, he noticed her eyes were screwed up in concentration, and he knew she fast forwarded the memory. Her eyes snapped open, but she still did not look at him, but instead at the events now unfolding. Now, Tom and Hermione were surrounded by people in skull masks, hoods over their heads. There were spaces in between some, and the Lord seemed to be displeased as he walked around slowly, causing flinches from some of the cloaked men and women. He seemed to be explaining something, but Tom only got the gist of it as he only heard some of his speech. It went on for an eternity in Tom's mind, and he could see the boy's strength dwindling, and Tom caught Hermione give the boy what would have been a reassuring look if he could see her.

The man said something in his hissing voice, and he walked briskly over to where the boy was sitting. One abnormally long finger was pressed to the boy's scar, and then the air was pierced gruesomely by the boy's horrible screams. Tom didn't know what was wrong with the boy, but he knew something was. Not knowing exactly what he was doing, he ran—glided rather—over and tried to pull the man's hand away from the boy, but his arm only went through the Lord, and nothing happened. Tom looked helplessly to the boy and his heart shattered over and over again with rage and fear and misery. What could this young boy have done to deserve this evil? He, like the deceased boy, looked troubled and saddened, but generally happy and adventurous. So what would warrant this treatment? Tom didn't understand, but all he could do was watch. The man took his had away, though the boy was still gasping for breath, his chest coming in huge heaves of pain. Tom wished he could help him. Then the man spoke again.

"Wormtail." the man said abruptly. It was like the sound had been turned on, and Tom could hear every word. "Untie Harry and give him back his wand."

The rat-like human shuffled over, holding his injured arm, and fumbled with the ropes binding the boy. Finally, he got them undone, but the boy just slumped up against the stone, appearing to have lost the will to live.

"Pick it up!" the Lord commanded. Harry (Tom mulled the name over in his head, and he funnily enough felt a more personal connection to this mysterious boy), struggled to find his wand, his leg looking like it was hurting worse than ever.

Incredibly, Harry stood up, his defeated green eyes burning with anguish and utmost, almost scary, loathing. "Now, bow. Come on, Harry, the niceties must be observed. Dumbledore wouldn't want you to forget your manners." The man said softly but demandingly.

Harry clenched his jaw (for pain or defiance, Tom didn't know), but did not do as he requested. The Lord pointed his wand at Harry, and Tom heard the word, "Imperio." Harry started to decline his head, but, to Tom's amazement, he must have fought off the Unforgivable. Tom now felt his heart swoop with respect and surprise for the boy, and was hoping this Lord would rot in hell with the rest of the masked men.

"I WON'T!" Harry screamed. So he had fought it off. Tom glanced expectantly at the Lord, who, incredibly, smiled. But it was a dark, cold smile that chilled Tom's bones.

"You won't?" the Lord whispered evilly. The man raised his wand again, but it was stopped. Hermione must have not have wanted him to see whatever happened. Tom's mind swirled with possible explanations, but he didn't have time to dwell on it, for the man was speaking again.

"Don't you run away from me, boy! I want to see you fall! I want to see the light leave your eyes!"

Tom prayed and hoped that the boy would live. His muscles clamped up in anxious anticipation. Harry came out from a gravestone. The boy's face was set, his astonishingly green eyes flashing dangerously with venom and there was no trace of fear in them. Tom watched (not like he had any other choice) as Harry spoke to the man.

"Have it your way then." Tom detected no wavering in it, despite the boy's condition, and it was filled with determination and strength.

Two spells were shot from two wands—one from Harry's and one from the Lord's.

"Avada Kedavra!" Was shouted as a bright green light shot from it, just as—

"Expelliarmus!" Was exclaimed as a red light shot out.

The two beams connected, causing a bright burst of light came forth, and Tom forced one last look at the boy as for some reason he was propelled upward. He nearly fell back, but stayed steady, though his head felt flighty. He felt a stare on him, and was met with the watery, tear-filled eyes of Hermione. Even though she was sitting right in front of him, he could not get his mind off of Harry. The look of the boy's eyes as he was facing that powerful man; a young boy surrounded by all evil adults, without one ounce of fear; willing to fight to the death. He was still wondering why Hermione showed him this. She seemed to read his mind.

"You want to know why you were shown that awful scene? You want to know who that man was?" she asked rhetorically.

He couldn't speak, but gave a shaking nod.

"That man was you, Tom. That disgusting, as evil as they come, terrible creature was you."

Tom felt all the blood leave his face, and everything went black as he fell backward, but the last image in his mind was that mirthlessly laughing, garnet-eyed man; the emerald-pooled, black-haired, young boy with the lightning bolt-shaped scar.

Dark, I know. Sorry, but I had to include that scene, just to show tom's reaction. Hope y'all liked it though. Thanks to:

Angelic Bladez (haha, no one likes avery or miles, do they?), Moonstone, MandaPandaAR, Jessi Brooke, Caitlin, san01, a walk in the dark (yes, it was an asskicking review!), amoramor (thanks SO much!), hermionegranger2007, Stranger, Chou hime, chipped-nails (as always), Mrs Pierre BOuvier (I fantasize also…), Hello Lita (wow…you liked it that much? Of COURSE you can translate it! Want to give me the link once you do? Haha), tallgiraffe32 no, she hasn't, and maybe they will…), BlueEyedFairy, Indaic, Purplebubble (me too, and yes, tom has feelings:) ), kat (thanks a million!), and grounded angel. Wow, lots of people.