A/N: THANKS FOR THE REVIEWS! I LOVE YOU ALL!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
And know that I have not copied, nor stolen, any story. I have only posted 3 chapters, who are you to say you know my story? I have many things in store for our young Harry Potter and our Dark-Lord-To-Be. I HAVE NOT STOLEN ANYTHING. I haven't read any Tom/Harry stories, either, just so I won't get ideas. The same is for FD&F, no Harry/Draco Vamp. stories AT ALL.
BTW, RATED R SCENE IN THIS CHAPTER!
When the Clock Defies the Time
Chapter Four: Test the Senses
The coach ride had been tumultuous and full of antics, ending with Romulus toppling out of it with Selred on top of him. The Black had been attempting to grope the Snape the entire ride, ending with Selred shoving him into the door and both falling out. Harry laughed, the majority of the time he spent being quiet and taking it all in. the group was really just that, an association of friends who enjoyed each other's company. Roderick and Tom continued conversing about Quidditch as they jumped out of the coach, avoiding the two other Slytherins still sprawled on the ground, Selred pulling ruthlessly at Romulus's hair as he rose. Romulus was only grinning wickedly, as if ready and enjoying the pain. Harry only rolled his eyes he got out, stuffing his hands into his pockets and looking around.
Surely he had expected a difference, yet Hogsmead was the same. The same shops, same cozy houses, everything. It seemed the small magical town was locked in a time frame. Harry sighed; at least he was familiar with it.
"Harry, you appear to have a bad habit of daydreaming," came Tom's sarcastic yet humorous voice, drawing Harry from his reverie. He was slightly irritated at this; his mind was a place he retreated to, and it was not a place he liked to leave on someone else's accord. But Tom was merely smirking at him, and Harry couldn't stay mad for long. There really wasn't a point.
"Come along, Tomelson, Riddle!" Aldrich called. He, Roderick, Selred and Romulus were already outside the tavern. Tom and Harry hurried to catch up, and the six went in.
"Go get the Butterbeers, Harry!" Romulus said enthusiastically, shoving Harry towards the bar.
"Oh aren't you just courteous!" Harry said sardonically as he went. He approached the bar, flagging down them maid; "I need six Butterbeers," Harry told her.
"Where ya sittin', dear?" the woman asked kindly, smiling; "Ooh, you've got to be related to Otto Potter!" she suddenly exclaimed; "Could swear on it that ya are!"
"Um, I'm not, Madame," Harry said, "I'm visiting; I'm not even from England. My company and I though, are sitting…" he turned around to see that Tom and the others had taken a table near the large stain glass windows, and then faced the barmaid again; "By the stained glass windows."
"Oh, alright then, that'll be nine sickles and five knots."
/Wow, things are cheap/ Harry thought as he pulled the money from the pouch and handed it to the barmaid. He then returned to the table, walking over and sitting down between Roderick and Tom. Aldrich and Selred were currently bickering over the outcomes of their tests from earlier yesterday, while Romulus was gone, over at another table talking to a gaggle of girls.
"Ever the lady's man," Roderick muttered, and Harry looked at him. "Romulus is quite the 'God', if you know what I mean," Roderick clarified, and Harry nodded.
"Yes, now, why we're here," Tom said; "Aldrich, for Merlin's sake, both of you know you'll pass with flying colors," he chided, and the two looked at him, disdainfully for being drawn from their argument. Harry smirked and covered his mouth with his hand to hide it.
"Quidditch season is on it's way," Tom said, "And with three spots open, we'll need to hold try-outs soon."
"Well, honestly it's just two chasers and a beater," Selred remarked languidly; "Those positions aren't hard to fill at all."
"Who's on the Quidditch team?" Harry asked, looking around.
"Oh, Tom's the captain and keeper," Roderick replied; "I'm a chaser, and Romulus is beater. Damn and then there's the seeker position that's open!" he exclaimed; "How could you forget that one position, Tom?"
"I could take it," Harry offered; "They say I can fly well, and I've got the reflexes necessary for the position," he added with a drawl.
"We'll leave that to the try-outs, then, shall we?" Aldrich said, then he turned as they were given their drinks, "Ah, Butterbeer…"
Harry held his mug in his hands, watching the golden nectar. He looked around, watching as Roderick downed his easily, sighing afterward. Harry's eyebrows rose at how quickly it had come and gone. He began to drink his.
"Well, Harry," Aldrich said; "Tell me, how were you able to perform such an amazing feat of wandless magic?"
"Well, I've done it before," Harry said idly; "It's a shocking thing over here, I take it?"
"Well, yes," Roderick said; "Not many wizards or witches can. You cast a spell and it didn't even make you break out into a sweat."
"Well, should it?" Harry asked, perplexed.
Aldrich laughed, "Oh, you're quite oblivious, aren't you?" he asked, amusement in his slate eyes.
Silently, Harry nodded, drinking his Butterbeer again. Then, he shrugged; "Well, not really," he said; "People don't bother the dim-witted."
"Ah, so it's all an act?" Selred inquired; "That would explain Romulus's behavior, wouldn't it?" he asked the group, and Tom shook his head.
"Oh, Romulus acts that way naturally," he said, "Now, about your clothing situation, Harry," he looked at the boy in question; "You could be measured at the robe store, and then they would compile a closet of clothing for you, of your liking, of course. Dumbledore said he'd already taken care of your books and supplies. So—"
"You'll never believe what I have heard, gents!" Romulus suddenly interrupted, plopping down in an empty seat at the table looking excited; "There's to be a party located in the Fourth Tower this fine eve at eleven! And guess who got us all invites!"
"I've heard about that party for ages," Aldrich drawled, and Romulus glowered at him.
"Well, I got the password," he muttered, then his mood perked up when he looked at Harry; "And you'll be there," he said.
"Well of course I will," Harry said, "I wouldn't miss out on any party. Besides, what would you expect me to do, lounge about the Commons all evening?" he snorted; "Honestly."
Again Harry's testimony brought Aldrich to chuckles, and Roderick smirked. Romulus smirked, sitting back; "Ah, butterbeer!" he said jovially, taking his mug; "A toast to us!"
"Here-here! I second it!" Selred said, raising his mug.
"To the Slytherin Six!" Roderick said loudly as the mugs clanged together.
As they six idly talked and drank, Tom's face suddenly became smug, his eyes narrowing as he glared. Harry noticed this, drawing himself from one of Roderick's jokes; "Tom, what is it?" he asked.
"Potter," was all the Slytherin said, eyes never leaving their spot.
Harry followed Tom's gaze, and his eyes mentally widened. There stood someone he resembled greatly, save for the cropped brownish hair and the hazel eyes. At his side was a young woman, and Harry gasped. McGonagall? Harry thought, blinking. Yes; the same red hair, though free and at the shoulder. A face that he'd seen with wrinkles and grimly set, now carefree and young and pleasant. Brown eyes that had glared and sent students running were now closed in mirth as a laugh escaped. There were others he recognized, as well.
Harry watched as his apparent grandfather ushered Minerva and the others to a free table, the others numbering at about four, before looking over their way. Two of the Gryffindor boys rose from the table at a wave of the Potter's hand, and Harry saw one had sandy brown hair while the other had red hair. They walked over, and Harry set his face as one of indifference.
"Well, you must be the exchange from Beauxbatons," the Potter said, smirking; "I'm Otto Potter," he held out a hand.
Harry leaned forward as he reached to shake the greeting hand, but his part of the gesture was less than courteous, more so he did not want to appear to be too rude. He leaned back into his chair, "Harry Tomelson," he replied simply.
Otto nodded; "Well, what's got you sitting with snakes?" he asked; "Perhaps you'd rather sit with a crowd who wouldn't use you for what you're worth?" he asked, eyes moving heatedly to Aldrich.
"My company is fine," Harry said, "I'd rather be with others like me than others too different."
"Well, the offer is open for you, should you wish to leave your 'company'," Otto said, now in a death glare match with Aldrich, who was not keen on backing down.
"Perhaps you'd best go, Potter," Tom warned, rising; "I'd hate to kill you here. What would your friends think, to see you beat by a mere snake?" he used the own insult in an all-knowing joke he knew would strike the right chords in Otto's angry symphony.
Otto's eyes narrowed; "What place is it yours to say, Riddle?" he asked dangerously.
"What place is yours to inquire?" Romulus quipped sardonically, rising as well; "Picking fights before the rum, Otto? Quite the shocker, if I do say so myself;" yet there was very little humor in the statement, more of sardonic literality.
Harry couldn't help but smirk at the scene. IT was just too amusing to watch hardheadedness combat sheer wit and sarcasm. A defeat for Potter was evident.
"Oh, and you're one who's sober at any time," Otto retorted, rather brusquely and quickly to Harry's surprise.
"Well, at least I've mastered the anti-Hangover potion; therefore I do not wander into classes half-arse-trashed," Romulus said, glaring.
"I'd retort, but childish games are below me," Otto nearly snarled, before turning and walking away. The two Gryffindors, who had been silent the entire time, glared at the Slytherins before following Potter.
"Well, Harry, sorry you had to meet the resident dunder-head," Selred said, idly watching as he swirled the contents of his mugs; "did somebody lace 'is wit' somethin'?" he asked, speech slightly slurred.
At this, Romulus' face fell; "Damn them all!" he suddenly exclaimed, and was up from the table. The table watched as he went to the Gryffindor Table, jerked up the accomplice of Potter's with the red hair up by the collar of his robes, and roughly dragged him from the Tavern. The Slytherins were silent, before they erupted in laughter.
"Selred, I do believe Romulus fancies you!" Aldrich said as he laughed.
Selred looked around drunkenly as he chuckled, and said; "O' course he :hick: does!"
This brought on more laughter.
The group returned to the Common Room by nine, bubbly and quite ecstatic. Harry had made sure he didn't drink nearly half as much as the others; he wasn't about to allow himself to slip up just yet and tell all soul and mind. But his speech was slurring. Many of the other Slytherins had gathered, as well, and many drinks were being passed around. There was the faint sound of Latin-American music floating in the oddly thick air, and Harry realized that incense was being burnt somewhere, perhaps the rafters… he craned his head back, but looked back quickly as he felt a tugging at his arm.
"Harry, come quick, lad!" it was Aldrich; "A charming young lady wishes to dance with you, and I daresay you could decline her…"
"A pretty girl, ya say?" Harry asked in his slurred speech, smirking; "Really…"
"Oi, Geneva!" Aldrich shouted, waving someone over.
Harry's jaw nearly dropped, but he remained composed. A slim, curvy, raven haired beauty walked up to him, her sapphire eyes tinted with a deep purple. She was wearing her school uniform, though the tie was lopsided and her shirt was un-tucked. She walked up to Harry with a small smirk on her pleasant features.
"My, Aldrich, he's handsomer in person," she, Geneva, said, "I'm Geneva. And you must be Harry Tomelson, from Beauxbatons?"
"Um, yes," Harry said, shaking her hand. For good measure, he placed a kiss on the back of her hand. Lifting his head, he revealed a pleasant smirk as well, and asked; "Care to dance?"
"Of course," Geneva said gently, and, hand still in hand, she led him to the dance floor.
Aldrich chuckled as he backed up to lean against a wall, watching his handy work. He glanced around, finally catching who he sought after. Tom Riddle was watching the crowd, his jade crimson-flecked eyes locked on a single pair. Aldrich couldn't help but grin, and he covered the smile with his hand. This was all the proof he needed.
Slowly, Aldrich walked over to his friend, leaning against the wall beside Tom; "A bit jealous, Riddle?" he asked casually, quietly.
"Of course not," Ton said; "I'm disgusted. Why would you let Harry dance with such a whore? I mean, Aldrich, Geneva Whittleborne! She'll be humping him before the night is over."
"Oh but of course, Tom, this is just a small test," Aldrich explained; "Is our new friend virgin, experienced, or just as sluttish as Geneva?"
Tom looked at him with a slight glare; "what do you mean, Aldrich?" he asked; "what's it to matter if Harry's had an experience or not?"
"Ah, but that's just it," Aldrich said; "I wish to know if he is gay or not."
"Well, he said so himself he preferred women," Tom said, watching Harry and Geneva again. It was getting heated, Harry holding to her hips while Geneva gyrated against him. This was a dance that majority of the world was yet to know of; it never left the Common Rooms. Yet Harry seemed to know every right move; where to exactly place his hand, when to lean his head down and whisper into Geneva's ear, everything. A small spark of envy flared inside Tom, and he was confused by it.
"Ah, but of course you wouldn't be jealous?" Aldrich asked again, leaning in a little closer.
"As I said before, Malfoy, I am merely disgusted," Tom said; "Why couldn't you have chosen Parkinson's sister? She's promiscuous and far prettier than Geneva…"
"Of course," was all Aldrich said quietly, eyeing his friend. Tom glanced at him, rolled his eyes, and walked away.
Harry was beginning to feel the dance; his legs were beginning to ache, and he was working a sweat. Geneva had opened her shirt during their dance, now showing a black lacy bra supporting her… well-endowed chest. Harry's shirt had been opened as well, revealing his white wife-beater underneath that clung to his form, even when dry. Harry lifted his head to brush his bangs out of his eyes, but as he did, he caught sight of Tom walking out of the common room and up a flight of steps.
"Hey, I'll be right back," Harry said, closing his eyes for a moment as Geneva felt him gently.
"Don't keep me waiting," she whispered sensuously, smiling; suggesting.
Harry smirked; "Wouldn't dream of it," he said, then he made his way out of the crowd.
"Harry, hullo there my boy!" Romulus crooned, walking over and throwing his arm over Harry's shoulder. The Black was obviously drunk, his lopsided grin and hazy eyes told all of this. Harry chuckled as he helped Romulus to a couch, the Slytherin rambling all the way.
"I do hope you're enjoyin' yourself, Harry," Romulus was saying ((A/N: hint, imagine Jack Sparrow's speech when Romulus talks)); "Poor Tom, though, bit of the Green Eyed thing tonight. Wonder if 'e'll ever lighten up and –hick- dance wit' somebody."
"What?" Harry asked as he sat Romulus down, taking the glass shot glass from his new friend.
"'Ey, I wan' it back," Romulus whined, but Harry looked at him sternly and Romulus pouted, crossing his arms over his chest; "Eh, Tom's got eyes for you already," he explained slowly, waving his hand in the air and watching it dazedly; "Already, too, you've on'y bin here wha'… a day?"
Harry stared at Romulus oddly; "Dance with Geneva for me," he said, then he was up the steps.
Harry had to slow, though, for his head began spinning. He stopped for a moment to hear the faint music, and then trudged up the steps. He breathed the password at the oaken door, the snakes hissed at him, and he entered the chambers. Harry saw Tom, slumped over the kitchenette counter, a shot glass with firewhiskey inside it in his hand. He threw his head back as he swallowed all of the liquid in one go, then slammed the glass down as he bowed his head, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Heard you weren't enjoying the party…" Harry asked quietly, unsure of what to do.
Tom jumped slightly, turning his head quickly to gaze at Harry with a wide-eyed expression. But then he settled, and groaned as he turned around and rubbed his eyes. He turned and leaned against the counter, scooting the bottle of firewhiskey behind his back as he did.
"Harry," he said, looking up with a slight, half-hearted smirk. His cheeks were red; he was hammering up; "Enjoying yourself?"
"Of course," Harry answered; "Tom… why are you…?"
"What? Drinking?" Tom asked, "Caught me, I suppose," he said, taking the firewhiskey bottle in his hand; "Strong stuff, this," he said, sloshing the amber contents around in the green glass as he idly watched it. The bottle was nearly empty; he'd downed three-quarters of it in less than twenty minutes. New record, he thought morbidly.
"Had a bit too much, myself," Harry said, walking over languidly and plopping down on the couch unceremoniously. He stretched out on the couch; his head leaned back against the armrest to watch Tom upside down. Harry gave him a lop-sided grin, and Tom chuckled.
"I'm drunk," he admitted, setting the bottle down and walking over; "Dead wasted."
"Perhaps now you'll speak simply?" Harry inquired, though he too, was drunk, and his speech was wasted.
Again, Tom chuckled, almost laughing when he replied; "Yeah, guess so."
Harry sat up as Tom went to the loveseat to the right of the couch, and watched the Slytherin move. Harry knew he was drunk when he felt a familiar stirring in his lower torso. Tom's shirt clung to his slim yet muscular frame delicately, his pants not too tight, not too loose, enough for the imagination. Tom sat down, and sighed as he leaned back.
Harry smirked as he stood, walking over to stand in front of Tom. For a moment, emerald eyes met bleeding jades, and then Harry bent down, one hand going to Tom's knee. Tom's breath hitched as he stared into the emerald depths, lost in them. Harry smirked.
"Tell me, Tom," he breathed, "Ever felt what's it's like to share a kiss with the same gender?"
"N-No," Tom said nervously; "I haven't…"
Again, Harry smirked; "Care to find out?" he asked.
Oh gods we're both wasted, Tom thought giddily, smirking; "Why not?" he said quietly, and Harry leaned in.
Their lips met and both felt a surge of something, not hormones, but emotion. It was dark and decrepit, ancient yet new. For a second Harry hesitated, but he'd gone so far already that he couldn't turn around. Squeezing Tom's knee he traced his tongue along Tom's bottom lip. And to his surprise, Tom opened his mouth slightly. Harry then tasted peppermint and firewhiskey, a combination that made him crave. Soon he had crawled no top of Tom's lap, the Slytherin pulling him closer as the kiss intensified.
When air became necessary both broke away, Tom gasping quietly; "Damn," he breathed, eyes wide as he looked at Harry.
"Better than kissing a woman?" Harry asked nonchalantly, idly wrapping his hand around Tom's neck.
Tom shuddered at the contact; "This is far from right," he said quietly, closing his eyes.
"How can something you enjoy be wrong?" Harry murmured, "I want you," he breathed into Tom's ear, before resting his face in the crook of the Slytherin's neck.
"We're drunk as hell, Harry," Tom persisted, though he wasn't about to move the pristine Adonis from his lap and arms.
"Then let our inner demons have some fun, Tom," Harry whispered, sighing. His hand slowly moved down Tom's arm, and he shuddered.
"God knows it's a sin," He insisted still. There was something wrong.
Harry just lay there, sighing. Something just did not feel right. He was beginning to sober up; he didn't want to; "Must you be so mature?" he asked quietly, lifting his head and looking at Tom; "Honestly, give in to your hormones…"
Tom opened his eyes and smirked; "If I were to do that, many would not be around now," he said clearly, before laying his head back.
Harry sighed; "So… you're saying you're a virgin?" he asked coyly.
Tom's head snapped up and he appeared outraged; "Of course I'm not," he stated roughly; "Why would you ask that?"
"Because you're acting like one," Harry said, getting up. But as he rose, Tom grabbed his wrist, and pulled him down.
"I'll show you virgin, Harry," the Slytherin breathed, and Harry saw a fire in Tom's eyes that he reveled in.
"Ooh, so the turtle can come out of his shell," Harry said, smirking. He then proceeded to kiss Tom, gently leaning the young man back onto the couch as he did…
Tom groaned quietly as he awoke with a headache, opening his eyes slowly. Instantly he felt a slight, burning pain in his thighs and buttocks, as well as his arms and back. Tom was about to move when he felt something wrapped around his upper torso… an arm. Panicking for a moment, Tom craned his head back, but it bumped into another. He went rigid, but groaned with the pain of his thighs.
"Damn," he moaned hoarsely at his realization, and this caused his bed partner to wake.
"Hmm wha'?" Harry mumbled as he raised his head; "Aw damn what a headache," he moaned, but then he saw Tom roll over so that both were facing each other; "Tom?"
"Harry?" Tom asked, sitting up; "What… did we…?"
Harry looked around as he sat up, rubbing his temple; "Damn," he said dully, "we did," he looked at Tom; "What… what will we do?"
Tom looked away, shaking his head as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and held his face in his hands; "I don't know," he moaned through his fingers.
Harry looked at his hands, flexing his fingers weakly. His head was killing him, the room smelt of sex, he was dirty, Tom was dirty and in pain, physical and emotional, and Harry was to blame. Or so he thought. Tom, on the other hand, was quickly reliving the night, and steadily forgetting to regret it. He sat up and looked at Harry, almost aphetically.
Almost.
"We'll do nothing," he said solemnly; "It's as if it never happened."
Harry looked down, memories crossing his vision as well; "Tom, wait," he said as Tom headed to the door; "Hold on."
Harry climbed out of bed and went to him, and embraced him. Tom stood there for a moment, rigid and stiff. He was not about to embrace someone at this time.
"I'm sorry," he heard Harry whisper as the young man stepped away; "I… you replied, and… and you said…"
"That I wanted you to fuck me," Tom finished bitterly; "I know, Harry. It was I who consented; it was I who allowed you to take me…"
"But, you said that you…"
"Weren't a virgin? Yet another lie. But now, I suppose it is the truth."
"If you had only told me…"
"I thought that you wouldn't want to continue, but you prodded at me in a way no one else had and I lost control! Damnit, I lost control!" he shouted, then after slamming his fist against the nearest wall, he left for the bathroom, leaving Harry alone in the bedroom.
And Harry hung his head and his shoulders drooped in shame.
The water was cold as ice and sharp as heavy rain, but Tom did not care. He bowed his head against the onslaught, leaned against the tiled wall and let it wash over him. With a sudden sound of frustration he grabbed the soap and began scrubbing himself raw, desperate to get the feeling away form him. He had a horrible headache, pains that came in nagging, subtle waves through his lower body. But even as he scrubbed, the pain didn't seem important. Even in his drunkenness he'd enjoyed the night, Harry was experienced and wasn't rough, even when he had been desperate for the final fuck.
Sighing Tom set the soap down, and sat down on the small bench. Reaching over he warmed the water, and held his head in his hands. He watched the water spiral down the drain as he thought back on the memories of the orphanage, the horrible Muggles, what had happened there.
"No," Tom said firmly, closing his eyes and shaking his head at the memories; "Not again."
He felt taken now, like in the end, he had been raped. Not physically, but mentally. He'd been allowed something he thought he didn't want, didn't care for, didn't need. He felt differently now, oddly lightheaded through his hangover. Was he… happy? Relaxed? Contented?
Tom jumped up as he heard the door open, and was thankful that the glass was fogged up. "Tom?" it was Harry, quiet and respectful; "We need to talk," yes, maybe quiet and respectful, but firm as well.
"Why should we?" Tom asked sardonically as he took the soap up again and began washing his arms normally. The soap stung at his reddened flesh, but he ignored it.
"Because, this cannot be swept under the rug. I don't believe I can ever handle not clearing this up. It's either the guilt or the shame that will kill me."
"Oh, you're ashamed?" Tom opened the door slightly, and poked his head up. Harry had pajama pants on, loosely; they hung around his waist... Why would I notice that right off the bat? Tom thought instantly.
"Yes, ashamed of myself," Harry explained; "I know better than to take advantage of anyone… I'm sorry," he admitted.
Tom looked down, averted his softening gaze; "You didn't take advantage…" he murmured, before going into the shower and shutting the door.
"What?" Harry asked.
Tom rolled his eyes and said loudly; "You didn't take advantage!" he paused, then continued softly; "I didn't mind. I… I enjoyed it… greatly…"
"I want to make it up to you, Tom," Harry said, coming up to the shower; "I'm not asking for a second go to get it right, I'm asking for a night out, to start over formally."
Tom wiped away some of the fog, meeting Harry's eyes; "Why should I bother?" he asked; "It was a fuck, a shag, that's all."
"It meant more than that to you, I know that," Harry said; "I saw it in your eyes when you looked at me earlier… I know what it's like to have that stolen from you, I can't believe I did it to you…" he looked away, surprised at himself for the testimony.
Tom looked at him; "Harry," he began, but stopped. What could he say? Could it be that Harry was just as much a tortured soul as he was? What must have happened to cause such conviction?
Harry looked up at him; "I was seven," he said, as if reading Tom's very mind; "a friend of my uncle's stole my innocence. My uncle watched. I have never forgiven him, I don't intend to. I swore that I would never do that. And since I have, I feel no greater than the bastard who did it to me. I feel dirty, aberrant, inhuman, betrayed. I might not be an angel, but my morals are clear and profound as the fog is to this glass;" he gently laid his hand against the cleared glass, and his eyes were fixed on Tom's eyes as he whispered; "Please except my apology, Tom. I would feel a little better with myself if you did."
Tom stared at Harry, his eyes gentle and awash with understanding and respect. His face was detached, though, save for the way his mouth was slightly parted to let air into his lungs. Slowly, he raised his hand, and pressed it against the glass in line with Harry's. Harry stared, thankful that Tom was forgiving. He looked at the Slytherin to see a small, gentle smirk on the handsome features, and in turn he slightly smiled as well.
TBC
A/N: I am so sorry this took so long, I've just bin so busy! Anyway, chapter 4! Hope you all enjoy it! Chapter 5 will be up as soon as possible!