October was flying by for Hermione. Her endless homework assignments, the Defense Club meetings, and her duties as Head Girl all ate away at the free time she'd set aside for herself each week while making her study schedule at the start of term. Juggling her various responsibilities proved a more challenging task than she'd anticipated.

So alone in the entrance hall one late October night, too exhausted to make her final rounds about the castle to make sure there were no students still wandering the corridors, her final duty of the day, she pulled the Marauder's Map out of her bag.

"The Marauders surely wouldn't approve of this," she muttered to herself, "but after all these years of being used for mischief, it's about time this map is utilized to enforce the rules." With the intention of using the map to search for students breaking curfew, she touched her wand to the parchment and said, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

Black ink appeared on the previously blank piece of parchment, the words appearing as though being written by an invisible hand:

"Mr. Prongs presents his compliments to Miss Granger and would like to remind her that this hallowed parchment is to be used for rule-breaking only. Any action counter to this purpose would desecrate all that is naughty in the world and will not be tolerated."

"Mr. Wormtail suggests the pretty lady either join the Marauders in their noble pursuit of mischief or pass the parchment to someone more worthy of their cause. Know-it-all snitches are not permitted to possess such a sacred item."

"Mr. Padfoot sincerely hopes, however, that this teacher's pet decides to take a walk on the wild side. Perhaps she will find it more enjoyable than life on the straight and narrow."

"Mr. Moony bids Miss Granger good day and would like her to know that if she ever grows tired of her books and goody two-shoes ways, the Marauders will delightedly welcome her and show her what real fun looks like."

Disappointed, stunned, offended, and intrigued all at once, Hermione gaped and then frowned at the legendary troublemakers' ingenious creation. If Harry and Ron had been here, they would've been laughing at her hysterically.

"What are you doing?"

Hermione jumped, startled by the unexpected but familiar voice in the lonely, dim hall.

"Sorry, I didn't meant to frighten you," Remus said. "What are you doing down here so late? Shouldn't you be in your dormitory?"

"Look at this!" Hermione said in lieu of an answer, pushing the parchment into his hands, partly annoyed and partly impressed with his younger self for helping create such a clever map.

Remus read through the messages, and a smile tugged at his lips. "For what were you planning on using the map?"

"I just wanted to check if there was anybody breaking curfew. Using the map would have been much quicker and more thorough than doing it on my own."

"That's not what the map is for."

"I know. It's for troublemakers. It's to help them sneak out of the castle and do mischief without getting caught. But it's not fair to call me a snitch! I'm only fulfilling my responsibility as Head Girl."

"Don't let what the map says bother you, Hermione." Remus tapped his wand on the parchment and it went blank. "It's bewitched to insult anyone who might undermine the Marauders' mission to incite as much mischief as possible — mostly teachers."

"And me," Hermione said, half stung, half amused. "Because I'm a 'teacher's pet' and a 'goody two-shoes,' and apparently I don't know what real fun is. So, tell me, Mr. Moony, what is real fun?"

Remus laughed. "Certainly nothing you would approve of." He gazed at the parchment, a faraway look in his eyes. "We could be real idiots sometimes."

Hermione smiled, knowing from firsthand experience now, thanks to her little time traveling adventure, how true that was — at least of Sirius, James, and Peter. Even when joining his friends in their mischief, Remus had always been more mature than them, more mindful of others and the consequences of his actions.

"But the map, the magic behind it — it's brilliant," she told him. "It's incredible that school-age wizards created this."

"What's incredible is how it ended up with Harry, the only descendent of the Marauders. I never did ask him how he came across it. Last I knew of the map was my seventh year at Hogwarts, when Filch confiscated it."

"Fred and George nicked it from his office. They're the ones who passed it on to Harry in our third year."

"And he passed it on to you."

"Only temporarily. He said I should have it this year just in case I ever needed it."

"As your professor, I should probably confiscate this," Remus said, tapping his wand against the parchment a second time, "but I know no harm will come if I leave it in your possession." He handed it back to Hermione. "I trust you will use it wisely — for good and not for mischief."

Hermione looked at the parchment again to find that it was no longer blank nor showing any more messages from the Marauders. Instead, it revealed the map of Hogwarts. "Thank you, Remus. I'll be done with my patrol in no time now."

"Glad to be of help," he said distractedly, and she looked up from the map to see him glancing toward the door to a nearby broom closet. He strode over to it and she tucked the map back into her bag as she watched him open the door for a moment before shutting it again in disappointment. "I thought there might be a boggart in there," he told her in response to her questioning gaze.

She remembered how he'd mentioned to her last week that he was searching the castle for one on which to practice the boggart banishing spell in Defense Club. "So you haven't had any luck finding one yet?"

"No, but in a castle like this, I'm bound to find one soon."

They climbed up the marble staircase together, Hermione worrying what would happen the next time she came face-to-face with a boggart. Her experience with these particular creatures, which transformed themselves into a person's greatest fear, was not so good.

As they started down a corridor toward another staircase, she tentatively asked, "When you do find a boggart, is it all right if I practice on it before we cover that in Defense Club? I haven't done so well against them in the past."

When she'd faced one during her final exam for D.A.D.A. in third year, the exam set by Remus, she'd done horribly. The boggart she was supposed to fight had shape-shifted into Professor McGonagall and told her she'd failed everything. She'd gotten terribly upset and Harry and Ron had been hopeless in their attempts to calm her down from her panic. Remus had been the one to successfully reassure her and help her get a grip on herself, and she was sure he remembered all this too because he gave her a small smile now and said, "Of course. I'll let you know as soon as I find one."

Hermione remembered how he'd come from the direction of the dungeons, which definitely held plenty of dark and enclosed spaces that the creatures liked to inhabit, before he'd run into her in the entrance hall, and asked him, "Is that what you were doing before, looking for a boggart?"

Remus hesitated. "No, I was actually — er —"

"On a noble pursuit of mischief?" she teased as they climbed up a narrower flight of stairs. Then she remembered another door that led off the entrance hall and what lay beyond it. "Were you down in the kitchens? Stealing food?"

He flashed her a sheepish grin and Hermione, struck by how much that simple gesture reminded her of the teenage Remus, and the way he used to look at her, forgot to avoid the next step on the staircase—

"Careful, Hermione—" Remus warned, but too late. She cried out in surprise as she took a strange, weightless step that had her leg sinking right through the staircase beneath her feet. "There's a trick step there," he finished. "You have to jump it."

"Ooh — I know," she said, trying unsuccessfully to free her leg, which had sunk in the trick step to above her knee. "I just — you're very distracting."

Remus frowned slightly as he looked down at her, and she was grateful the light was too dim for him to notice her blush and even more grateful he couldn't read her mind and see the memories that distracted her, though she still felt very self-conscious trapped there beneath his curious gaze.

"Um, do you think you could help me get out of here, please?"

"Oh. Right."

Taking hold of her arms, he pulled her out of the trick step and helped her climb onto the step above. All the while Hermione wondered if he couldn't see just how affected she was by their contact, by how close they were standing together now on the narrow staircase, and by his scent, which was even more appealing than usual.

"You smell delicious," she noted aloud before she could stop herself, and Remus swiftly stepped back from her, looking suddenly tense. "Like the dessert we had at dinner," she hastily elaborated.

"Ah, yes. The dessert," he said, sounding relieved. He pulled from inside his coat a small bag and opened it up for her. "Would you like a jam tart or a custard cream?"

"You were stealing food from the kitchens," Hermione said, amused.

"I wasn't stealing. I was getting an extra helping of dessert, which is perfectly acceptable."

"Then why were you sneaking around, hiding it in your coat like a thief?" she asked, taking the jam tart he offered and starting up the stairs again.

"When I heard you in the entrance hall I thought you might be Mr. Filch, so I stuffed the bag in my coat on instinct. You see, Filch was never very fond of me and my friends when I was a student and I don't think that's changed much now. I feel like he still thinks I'm up to no good and always has an eye on me, just waiting for me to do something suspicious so he can be the one to catch me."

"Sounds like your guilty conscience is making you paranoid. At least we're eating the evidence of your mischief, so if he does catch you, he'll have no proof of your thievery."

"Catches us." He nodded at the jam tart she was enjoying. "You are now an accessory to my crime."

They reached the next corridor but only went a few steps before Hermione froze.

"Did you hear that?" she whispered urgently to Remus, squinting into the shadowy passageway ahead of them.

"What?"

"Footsteps." There was nobody in the corridor as far as she could see, but from what she'd heard somebody was prowling about nearby, headed straight toward them, and that person could only be— "Filch!"

Hermione and Remus exchanged a wide-eyed look, then made a run for it as quietly as they could. They slid through the nearest door, which was thankfully unlocked, and took cover in the dark classroom beyond it.

As silent and as still as they could possibly be, they huddled by the door, listening for the sound of Filch passing them by and leaving the coast clear again. But a minute or so passed and they didn't hear a thing.

"Check the map," Remus suggested.

Hermione wiped her hands clean on the skirt of her school uniform, getting rid of the crumbs, the last remaining evidence of their mischief, and pulled out the map again.

"Lumos," Remus whispered, covering his wand with his hand so that its glow only illuminated the parchment and could not be seen through the crack under the door and give them away.

Hermione frowned as she scanned the map under his light. "There's nobody in the corridor." She looked up at him, confused. "But I swear I heard somebody…"

"Sounds like your guilty conscience is making you paranoid."

Hermione grinned. "Perhaps. You're right, though. This is more fun than my books and goody two-shoes ways."

"I'm afraid I've had a bad influence on you."

They left the classroom, and out in the corridor once again, Remus paused. "I'm this way," he said, indicating the way to his office and living quarters, which was in the opposite direction she needed to go to get to her dorm. "I'll see you tomorrow, Hermione. Stay out of trouble."

"I will," she said, disappointed that they had to part ways. "Goodnight, Remus."

"Goodnight."

He hesitated for a moment, and Hermione wondered if he'd just felt the same impulse she'd felt, if on some level he remembered how he used to walk her to her dorm every night and give her a goodnight kiss so sweet it left her smiling in her sleep and eager to wake the next morning to continue living out her dream with him — but then he was turning away and walking off down the corridor, and she was sure the flash of recognition she'd thought she'd seen in his eyes had just been her desperate longing sparking her imagination.

Perhaps if she had acted on her impulse, perhaps if she were to kiss him, it would stir his memory… If only she had the nerve to test that theory. It was probably too soon for her to make a move as bold as that anyway. She didn't want to ruin things between them, not when they were going this well and she was finally starting to relax around him.

Although she still had some awkward moments around him, everything had become easier and friendlier between them, even playful sometimes, with the time they'd spent together outside of class these last few weeks. Besides arriving to the Room of Requirement early before Defense Club meetings on Friday to prepare, or staying late afterward to explore the hundreds of books the room offered them, they usually got together sometime earlier in the week as well to discuss the next meeting and how the students were progressing. But their conversation often digressed. It reminded her of when they used to study together in the library or Gryffindor common room in the past. It felt almost like it did back then between them, back when they were friends and not just student and teacher.

So caught up in her musings and memories and in watching Remus's dot on the map, Hermione almost missed the two dots roaming about not too far from her, two dots representing a pair of people who should definitely not be in the castle…

She made her way through the now completely darkened hallways toward one of them, using her wand to light the way. When she reached the corner before him, she put out the light, stealthily crept up on the trespasser, then said, "What are you doing?"

George Weasley jumped like she had earlier and whipped around to illuminate her with his own lit wand. "Jeez, Hermione. You shouldn't sneak up on a fellow like that. And it's Fred, not George."

"Don't try to fool me. I know you're George."

"How could you? Even Mum gets us confused. Ah," he said with a look of comprehension. "I guess that old trick doesn't work so well now, does it? The ear — or lack thereof — gives me away."

"It wasn't that. I saw you on the Marauder's Map. And I also know you're you because of your eyes — they're gentler than Fred's."

George arched an eyebrow. "Been admiring my eyes, have you? Can't blame you, really. They are quite captivating."

Hermione rolled her own eyes. "So, what are you and Fred doing at Hogwarts? And at this hour? Does McGonagall know?"

"Not exactly."

"You sneaked in?"

"Well, yeah. Since a lot of our products are banned at Hogwarts, we didn't think the Headmistress would give us permission to put up advertisements here for the grand opening of our Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes branch in Hogsmeade."

"You're finally opening up the new joke shop? Ginny mentioned you would soon, but she didn't say when."

"Next weekend."

"Great! It's Hogsmeade weekend for us."

"We know. Fred and I thought it made the most business sense to line it up this way. So you'll come, won't you?"

"Of course I will. I wouldn't miss it. But when you said 'put up advertisements,' you mean you just put up some flyers or posters, right? You didn't turn one of the corridors into a swamp like you did when Umbridge taught here?"

George grinned fondly at the memory. "No swamps this time. Just posters and banners. But they're bewitched so I suggest you don't touch them or try to take them down until after the grand opening unless you want to become a walking advertisement for one of our new products."

"Thanks for the warning," Hermione said, mentally noting that she must inform McGonagall about this first thing in the morning, and glad George had been kind enough to give her this word of caution before she became a walking advertisement, whatever that meant. Then she remembered the birthday gift she'd received from the twins. "Oh, and thank you for the chocolates, by the way. Those are my favorite kind, you know."

George smiled. "Yeah, glad you enjoyed them."

"Ginny and I both. We — Wait, how did you know they're my favorite?"

"You told me once."

Hermione frowned, unable to remember. "When?"

"Dunno," he shrugged. "Maybe a couple of summers ago."

A vague memory surfaced in Hermione's mind of a conversation she'd had with the twins at the Burrow. They'd offered her a sweet, and of course, assuming it was one of their joke products and would likely make her sick, she'd refused. They'd insisted she try it, though, describing to her how delicious the caramel was, and challenged her to take a risk for once. She told them she might have taken the risk if they'd offered her favorite dark chocolate from Honeydukes…

Hermione couldn't believe George remembered that. Had he mentally stored that tidbit of information with the intention of one day using it to pull a prank on her? But he could have easily done that with the chocolates he and Fred had sent her for her birthday, yet they hadn't tampered with them or pulled any sort of joke on her at all.

"Oh no," Fred Weasley said, suddenly appearing out of the shadows. "We've been caught by the Head Girl. We're in big trouble now, Georgie."

"Hi, Fred. I was just thanking your brother for the chocolates you guys sent me."

"What chocolates?"

"The ones you gave me for my birthday."

"Your birthday?" he said, looking clueless. "When was that?"

Hermione turned her confused gaze upon George, who appeared uncharacteristically nervous. He looked away from her.

"I think I hear someone coming," he said. "Better go, Gred."

"Aye, Forge. Bye, Hermione."

Hermione stared after them, not knowing what to make of this. Why would George send her chocolates and pretend it was a gift from both him and Fred? Too tired to contemplate this right now, she shook her head and hurried to her dorm. Her patrol had gone much too late and she was in danger of getting into trouble herself.

In Transfiguration class the next morning, however, she told Ginny all about George and the chocolates.

"He must fancy you!" was Ginny's response.

Hermione laughed.

"Why is that funny?" Ginny wanted to know.

Hermione sobered. "You — you're not serious, are you? George can't fancy me."

"Why not?"

"Because… Well, he's George. We're so different. He couldn't fancy someone like me." The idea was simply absurd. He and Fred had always poked fun at her for being uptight about rules and for being overly concerned with academics. George, the joking, mischievous prankster, couldn't possibly be interested in her, could he?

"There's a reason they say that opposites attract." Ginny grinned. "I am going to tease him so much about this!"

"Ginny, don't! We don't even know if it's true. If he did, why would he want me to think the chocolates were from him and Fred?"

The redhead shrugged. "Maybe he wanted to do something nice for you but didn't want you to know he likes you yet. Or maybe he feels guilty for fancying you because you're his little brother's ex-girlfriend."

Hermione still thought it highly unlikely that George could fancy her, but no other explanation came to mind.

"So if he were to ask you out, would you say yes?" Ginny asked.

"Oh, I don't know…" Although George was a quite a catch — funny, clever, good-looking, and athletic — Hermione could only think of one person in a romantic way.

"Do you realize, if you were to go out with him, he would be the second Weasley you dated?" Ginny quirked an eyebrow at her, a mannerism identical to Fred and George's. "What is it with you and my brothers?"

"I see you girls think my class is for senseless chitchat and not Transfiguration." Hermione and Ginny turned to face Professor Avila, who had marched over to their desks at the back of the classroom without them noticing and who now looked down her nose at them, stern and nettled.

"We've been practicing. Honestly, Professor," Ginny claimed. To prove this, she perfectly performed the Transfiguration assigned that lesson. "See?"

Professor Avila scowled at the youngest Weasley, then turned to Hermione. "And you, Miss Granger?"

Hermione was also successful in her Transfiguration attempt, which displeased Professor Avila even more. She assigned both girls extra homework.

"She hates me too now," Ginny noted dispassionately.

During their next class that morning, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Hermione and Ginny were too busy concentrating on their spellwork to resume their conversation about George. Their focus was interrupted only when Remus came over to watch them practice.

"I've found a boggart," he told Hermione. "If you have time today after classes, we could go practice on it this afternoon."

"We?" She hadn't expected him to practice with her. What if she made a fool of herself in front of him like she'd done back in third year?

"You're not supposed to fight these kinds of creatures without teacher supervision," he informed her, "so I'll be going with you. Is that all right?"

"That's fine. Where will we be practicing?"

"The boggart has taken up residence in the broom closet on the fourth floor. Meet me there after classes."

Ginny waited for Remus to walk away to another pair of students before bursting into a fit of giggles.

"What's so funny?" asked a bemused Hermione.

"He told you to meet him by the broom closet!" Hermione's face remained blank so Ginny explained, "That's where people go to snog. I caught Lavender and Seamus coming out of there one time. Apparently, it's a popular place for that sort of thing."

"Stop laughing," Hermione said when the Weasley began giggling again. "That's where the boggart is. It's not like Remus and I are going to..." She couldn't finish the sentence nor hide the warmth coloring her cheeks.

"Of course you're not. Although if I had to go in there with a professor," Ginny whispered now as Remus moved to a pair closer to them, "I'd probably choose him."

"Ginny!"

"I think he'd be a good kisser, don't you?"

Hermione could certainly attest to the fact that yes, he absolutely was a good kisser, but she cleared her throat and changed the topic instead. Raising her eyebrows inquiringly, she said, "So Lavender and Seamus…?"

Ginny nodded, grinning. "And you know, now that I think about it, I remember running into my brother Percy and his old girlfriend Penelope Clearwater near that same broom closet in my second year…and they were both rather nervous and disheveled-looking — Merlin's beard, I wish I hadn't put two and two together just now."

Ginny made a face and it was Hermione's turn to giggle.

"I'm glad you're having fun in my class," Remus said, pausing beside them once more, "but please do remember to stay on task."

"Sorry, Professor," Ginny said. "We will."

"What were you two laughing about anyway?"

"Nothing," both girls responded — a bit too quickly.

Remus looked between them and then narrowed his eyes slightly at Hermione, who smiled sheepishly.

"Guilty conscience?" he teased.

Hermione left the Defense classroom feeling as pleased with her progress in learning the new spells they'd just gone over as she was delighted in her progress with Remus. She spent the afternoon anticipating her meeting with him later and giving less thought than she probably should to preparing for her encounter with the boggart.

After classes that day, however, as she headed toward the broom closet on the fourth floor, passing along the way various Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes posters bursting with bright colors and magic, she did her best to put aside her thoughts of Remus (and snogging) and tried to maintain her focus solely on how she was going to fight the boggart that awaited her. How could she make Professor McGonagall and the prospect of failing into something funny? She was at a loss. This was tougher than she'd thought. Maybe it was good Remus was going to be there with her. He probably had plenty of ideas that could help her out.

He wasn't there yet when she reached the place where they were supposed to meet. She was about to wait in the corridor for him to arrive, but then she heard a noise coming from within the broom closet. Thinking Remus might be inside, she opened the door. Lights flickered on in the small room filled with buckets and mops, and there, as she'd suspected, was Remus. His back was to her, but he turned around when he heard her enter. One look at his face and Hermione's cheery greeting died on her lips.

"Remus — what's wrong?"

Slowly, he held up the photograph he had clutched in his hands, and Hermione felt the blood drain from her face — it was the picture she kept tucked away in her nightstand drawer in her dorm, the picture of her sitting cozily with the teenage Remus by the fire in the Gryffindor common room, the one Lily had taken of them in the past… How on earth had he gotten his hands on that photograph?

"What is this?" Remus demanded quietly, and Hermione's wide eyes shifted back to him, her heart rate rising in panic. How could she possibly explain that to him?

"I — it — where did you get that?" she spluttered.

"It doesn't matter," he said brusquely, lowering his arm to his side, the photograph crumpling slightly in his fist. "I remember."

The pounding of her heart filled the silence that followed. Hermione tried to swallow, but her mouth had suddenly gone dry.

"You — you remember?" she managed to get out breathlessly, her mind racing. But Dumbledore had Obliviated his memory, he couldn't have remembered. It was impossible. "W-what exactly do you mean by that?"

"You know exactly what I mean, Hermione. I remember everything."

The quiet edge in his voice had her insides squirming, her chest tightening. The usual gentleness in his gaze was gone. His eyes were hard, stormy, looking at her like they had never truly seen her before. He was angry, he couldn't believe what she had done.

"Remus…" His name fell weakly from her lips into the tense atmosphere between them, barely audible even to her own ears. She tried again. "Remus, please let me explain—"

"Do you realize," he cut across her, "if anybody were to find out about this… You're my student, Hermione. I could get fired for this, lose my job, everything—"

"No, you wouldn't. That was a long time ago, and you — you didn't know I'd time traveled or that we knew each other in the future. You didn't know you were my teacher—"

"You're right. I didn't know." Hermione winced at the accusation in his tone. "And if I had known, I would have never…"

He shook his head, his gaze full of reproach. She bit her lip, eyes burning with tears. This was not the way she wanted him to find out about them. This was not the way it should be.

"You should have told me, Hermione. You should have told me the truth about everything. I deserved to know. You shouldn't have allowed any of this to happen. What you did — it was a violation."

Her stomach churned horribly. He was repulsed by her, horrified by her actions. She'd taken advantage of the situation in the past, of him, and she felt sick.

"You completely violated my trust. You lied to me, tampered with my memory…"

"Remus, please—"

She stepped toward him without thinking, desperate to explain herself, but he hastily drew his wand and pointed it at her warily.

"Don't — I don't want you anywhere near me, Hermione!"

Her insides turned cold as ice, cold like his eyes as he glared at her.

"Hermione?"

Her eyes widened at the sound of the voice behind her. She spun around wildly to find Remus standing by the door, staring past her at the other Remus — or rather, the boggart impersonating the real Remus.

"Oh!" she gasped, feeling faint as she was hit with the realization of what was going on. She looked between the two Remus's, one disconcerted and the other angry — she couldn't handle this. She stumbled out of the broom closet and steadied herself against the wall in the corridor, hurriedly wiping the tears from her eyes with shaking hands before Remus came out after her. He couldn't see her like this. He couldn't know, couldn't find out… Oh god, she hoped he hadn't heard anything.

He appeared beside her a moment later, worry plainly etched on his features as he examined her.

"I'll be fine," she said before he could ask if she was all right, and she was grateful she sounded a bit more calm and collected than she felt. "It's just…boggarts seem to give me more trouble than anything else. I guess I'm not very good at facing my fears. No wonder Harry beat me in third year."

Remus contemplated her soberly. "Hermione…you're afraid of — of me?"

"No, not you. I'm afraid of…failure." She lowered her gaze, ashamed to be lying to him again. "You — you told me I was an awful assistant and a horrible Head Girl, and that I'd fail all my classes."

"It was just a boggart, it wasn't real," he told her reassuringly.

"But it felt real. What you said…I'm afraid it c-could happen." She bit her lip to keep it from trembling.

"It won't," Remus said firmly. "There is no possible way you could fail your classes, Hermione. And you're doing phenomenally as Head Girl. As for being my assistant, I can't tell you how grateful I am to McGonagall for making the suggestion. I don't know what I would do without you."

His kind words only made her feel worse. Fresh tears stung her eyes, and she turned away from him. "I'm sorry, Remus. I — I have to go."

She hurried down the corridor away from him, away from the boggart-Remus that had revealed what she, in the back of her mind, had always feared to be true: what she'd done with Remus in the past was wrong. She'd lied to him, and she was still lying to him now. If Remus were to ever learn what she'd allowed to happen between them in the past, if he were to ever find out the truth she'd kept from him then, and the secret she was keeping from him now, he'd never forgive her. She was certain of it.

A/N: Boggarts are not Hermione's friend :(

Thanks for reading! This chapter turned out longer than I planned, but I hope it didn't feel too long for you.

Thanks also to each of you wonderful reviewers! I love reading your thoughts on the chapter. Your reviews really help more than you know.