Summary: An increasingly impatient Snape ushers the unplanned guest off Hogwarts' grounds. Overall story occurs from CoS to post-DH. AU, EWE.

Warnings: AU, EWE. Rated T.

Disclaimer:This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made by the humble (and quite poor) fanfic author, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. It's purely for fun. ~ Although potions ingredients in this fiction story are sometimes listed as possible treatments, none of them should be used for such purposes unless in consultation with a qualified medical doctor.

oOo

Principles and Honor

CHAPTER 3

The plastic travel clock shrilly announced half-past six, and Nadia shot up in bed. It took a moment to get her bearings, and she smiled when remembering where she was. After washing and making up, she dressed and had just settled down in the sitting room with her prayer book when there was a rap at the door. She jumped up to open it, and Filch tottered in with a silver tray covered with lidded dishes.

"Good morning, Mr. Filch—and Mrs. Norris," she said.

Filch grunted in obvious disagreement, while Mrs. Norris placed her forefeet on the coffee table, eagerly sniffing the scents wafting from the food. "Off, my sweet," Filch hissed, and Mrs. Norris signaled her annoyance with quick flicks of her tail as she sauntered off. "Trust everything was all right," he added to Nadia.

"Yes, thank you. I had an amazingly good rest," she agreed.

"Professor Snape'll be here in forty-five minutes." His squint-eyed glance carried a warning. "Best be ready."

"I will be," she assured.

With a quick bow, Filch left to tend to his duties.

After breakfasting on oatmeal with cream, strawberries, a boiled egg and hot tea, Nadia brushed her teeth and fixed her lipstick for the day's short journey. She added a touch more of black mascara, which emphasized her dark eyes, repacked and sat to await the professor.

Snape was precisely on time, arriving as the mantel clock chimed the third quarter hour. Nadia pulled open the heavy door with an "Oomph!" and greeted Snape, who stepped inside as she pulled on the backpack. Excusing herself for a quick look around for anything left behind, Nadia returned with an "All clear!" and held the door for Snape. He looked down his nose at her with disapproval.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

"Why is it that American women think that they must do everything themselves?" he drawled, his eyes lifted heavenward in mock supplication.

"Oh!" She released the door handle and quickly stepped onto the landing. "I'm so used to having to open doors myself. Usually the only men I run into who do that are old. With guys my age or younger, it's whoever gets there first."

"It would do you well," Snape observed stiffly and he smartly shut the door, "to expect to be treated like a lady. Otherwise, you will receive the treatment you deserve."

Feeling as if cold water had been flung in her face on a wintry day, Nadia blinked hard as they wound their way down the tower. Unable to think of a suitable response, she did noted with chagrin that he didn't offer to carry her backpack.

Reaching the ground floor, they quickly crossed to the Entrance Hall's enormous doors and stepped out to a bright fall day. He found it highly annoying that she walked backwards a while to take in Hogwarts' impressive towers and ramparts, then had to run to catch up to him.

Reaching the gate, Snape unlocked it wandlessly with an unspoken spell as she looked across the grass to the greenhouses and mountains beyond, then stepped aside for her. With a thankful smile and nod, Nadia walked toward the trail head, followed by the dark Potions master. He remained pointedly silent, so she hiked behind without attempting conversation. Instead, she enjoyed the scenery and fresh air, and considered a good afternoon's hike after arriving at her correct destination. She was wondering whether Inverlochy Castle lacked electricity when they rounded the trail's last bend and found the Hogwarts Express just steps away.

The scarlet engine steamed as they mounted the platform, and he guided her to a middle car. Nadia climbed the few steps toward the door—and fell back. Snape's instantly outstretched arms broke her fall as her right hand went to her nose.

"What—?" she stammered, looking up at the train. Her fingers carefully dabbed at her nose, and she winced.

"What appears to be the problem, Miss Beasley?" Snape inquired dryly.

"I-I hit something." She looked in surprise at blood on her fingers.

"Really, Miss Beasley," Snape said disdainfully. "Simply put one foot in front of the other."

"Thank you, professor," she replied heatedly, "but how do you explain the bloody nose?"

The unbending man looked down on her with supreme unconcern. "Boarding a train is elementary. Up," he ordered.

Irritated by his patrician tone, she fished a tissue from her pocket, pressed it to her nose, and climbed up again, thinking, Pity the children in this guy's class. Just as suddenly as the first time, there was an impact and she jerked backward, missing a fall only because she was grasping the brass handle along the staircase.

Snape's eyes narrowed. "Is this a jest?"

"No, Mr. Snape, it isn't," she said sharply. "I'm not a mime."

His black eyes flashed. "Professor Snape," he snapped, the left side of his mouth pulling back in a teeth-showing grimace. "Now enough of this nonsense. Shall we try again?"

The conductor peered curiously from the train's end, and Snape waved him away. This time Severus followed directly behind her. When she reached the same troublesome spot and her progression stopped, he impatiently pressed the small of her back to propel her forward. He was unable to budge the woman, and checked that she wasn't digging in her heels. Her nose flattened.

"Ow!" she said, turning her head to press the tissue afresh to her nose, which now bled freely. "That really wasn't necessary!"

"I apologize," Snape replied, observing her closely. From inside his robe, he pulled a white handkerchief, which she accepted since the thin paper could not cope with the flow.

"I'm really not doing anything," she said, confounded. "This is just plain … weird."

Snape concentrated on the apparent problem spot. The place she kept ramming into was half-way up the stairs. He walked up and down the car's short stairs and resumed his place on the platform. "Please try again," he requested in a modulated voice.

He watched carefully as, sighing, she stretched an arm before her, and climbed again, coming to a sudden stop. Her hand pressed flat and hard enough that, when she turned around and showed it to Snape, he could see white spots is if her palms and fingers had been pushing against glass.

She's not playing me for a fool after all, he thought. Miss Beasley had genuinely been injured by some unseen force. His instinct was to examine the area with his wand, but there was no question of doing so with the Muggle present.

Her brows knitted in bewildered frustration. "I don't understand."

"I believe it's time to see the Headmaster," Snape said crisply.

Leaving her to tend to the nose bleed, he smoothly explained to the conductor that there was a change in plans and the woman would be staying after all. The conductor waved to the engineer, who sounded the whistle and then the Express slowly chugged down the track through Hogsmeade.

The professor eased the pack off of her back and led the way back to Hogwart. Once back in the guest suite, he motioned for her to sit and disappeared into the bathroom, returning with a damp washcloth.

"Hold this against your nose with one hand while pressing the nasal septum with the other," he said, showing her the precise spot. Once sure she was following his instructions correctly, Snape stepped to the door. "I'll fetch the Headmaster. It should only be a few minutes."

Dumbledore was in a main hallway, happily watching the students troop to their second classes. Snape quietly related what had occurred. "Go to your class, Severus," Dumbledore said. "I'll see to her."

Dumbledore found Nadia tenderly blotting her nose, which showed signs of bruising. Bending down to take a look, he smiled sympathetically. "Tsk, tsk. I'm sorry, my dear. Better?" She nodded.

"This really is quite perplexing," he continued, taking the opposite chair. "There's another train leaving tomorrow morning. I hope that won't be a great inconvenience."

"No, sir, it won't." After another dab, she decided it might be safe to set aside the cloth. "But why couldn't I get on it today?"

"Well, that is a mystery," Dumbledore agreed, "and we are working on it. Have no worries, you'll be on the next train—after some good meals and another night's sleep, of course," he added with a twinkle. "Why don't you rest here this morning? I'll have some tea brought."

"Thank you," Nadia said, her expression betraying confusion and concern.

Dumbledore exited, and Nadia went into the bathroom to wash out the cloth and prepare another, just in cast. Upon re-entering the sitting room, she was surprised to find a full service of tea was already on the coffee table, complete with scones, jam and Devonshire cream. She looked at the door a few seconds, back to the tray, and then sat, perplexed.

Thoroughly enjoying the tea and undoubtedly the best scones she'd ever had, Beasley pondered her situation. What blocked me from boarding the train? Why wouldn't a boarding school have electricity by the late 20th Century, even in a remote part of Scotland? Why does this entire situation feel …well, odd?

Coming up with no answers, Nadia decided to make the best of the situation. She pulled out her prayer book to begin where she'd left off when Mr. Filch arrived with breakfast. She re-checked her itinerary, then drifted to the sitting room window. The night's rain had left the landscape pristine. Birch, fir and other trees waved slowly in the breeze, and birds flew to and from the mountains towering in the distance.

Moving to the bedroom, she climbed up onto the window seat and opened one of the windows, taking a deep breath of the clean Scottish air. This window provided an outstanding view of the deep loch, which spread from a sandy shore several hundred yards from the castle, and wrapped its way through the mountains. A meadow or two hinted at wild grasses and flowers far away.

Wandering back to the sitting room, she perused the bookcase, pulling out a tome of Scottish history and a slim book of Robert Burns' poems to take back to the window seat. She remained there until Mr. Filch returned with a lunch tray. He obviously had many tasks and hurried off with a mumbled, "'Afternoon." Even Mrs. Norris was too busy to come in, simply waiting at the door for her master.

Chewing a chicken sandwich thoughtfully, Beasley wondered about the suite's décor. As soon as she finished eating, the amateur antiques hound inspected the desk, examining its drawer joints, the bare wood on the underneath side, the cuts and planes. It appeared to be an original, or else someone had gone to great lengths to make a detailed reproduction. Likewise, other furnishings seemed to be authentic. There were signs of genuine age on the paintings and prints. She carefully removed the mantel clock to take a close look at the casing, and eased open the back. Its machinations were fine and complex, unlike those in modern timepieces.

Obviously, there was money involved with the school, or had been in the past. Wouldn't it make sense to sell some valuable antiques to electrify the school?

Dumbledore joined her for dinner, which Filch served. They had a lively conversation about interesting places in Britain and the nation's history. The Headmaster deemed it safe to share some of his theories about Stonehenge and other stone circles, tantalizing her with old tales of Druids and magic. His ideas fit her notion of him being an intelligent and kind, if distinctively odd, fellow. She didn't get a chance to ask any questions about Hogwarts questions, however.

oOo

As arranged the prior night, Professor Snape returned mid-morning. This time she was careful to allow him to hold the door for her. She did pause before picking up the backpack, but when it became apparent he didn't intend to carry it, she slung it over a shoulder. Snape flinched at the decidedly unladylike action, and silently followed her through the castle, down the walk and to the Hogsmeade trail.

Approaching the train car's step, Severus bowed his head for her to proceed, and she smiled at the courtly gesture, one she'd only seen in movies. Her pleasant reverie came to an immediate halt when she banged into the hidden barrier. Her right elbow, jutting out from carrying the pack on one side, took the brunt this time as she crashed into the stairway's side wall. Snape snatched the bag from her with one hand and caught her left forearm with the other, steadying her.

"You know," she gasped in pain, "this isn't funny."

"I assure you, Miss Beasley, this is not a joke." A slight furrow deepened between his brows as if he were stumped. "There is, perhaps, another way," said Snape. Waving off the conductor, he led her back to the path. Once they were comfortably out of sight from Hogsmeade, Severus led her a few steps inside the forest. She looked about uneasily.

"I assure you, Miss Beecham, nothing untoward is about to happen. Please take my arm," said Snape. After initial hesitation, Nadia did as instructed. "Now hold on firmly."

Snape twisted and—Crack!—was gone. Startled, Nadia looked around. "Professor?" she said. "Professor!" Increasingly anxious, she was just backing toward the trail (she thought, but was going in the wrong direction), when with another Crack! the black-clad professor was back.

She stared at him, wild-eyed and speechless.

Relieving her of the pack, Snape dangled it with his right hand. "I would be best," he said, "to go to the Headmaster's office."

With a gentle but firm hand, he turned the stunned woman back to trail. Once there, however, Nadia pulled away and put some distance between them.

"What just happened?" she demanded. "You-you disappeared! I think." Her voice trailed.

"This is something the Headmaster must address," replied Snape, his eyes forward as he continued up the mountain.

She followed and kept a sharp eye on him. The crunch of pine needles behind him gave no cause for him to turn to check that she was following.

oOo

The sounds of hundreds of young people well into dinner echoed into the Entrance Hall. Snape left her, striding into the Great Hall, and emerging several minutes later with Dumbledore and the tall woman who had lead the youngest students the previous night. Nadia nodded to them, not without some puzzlement, and followed the two eldest, Snape taking the rear.

Upon reaching the seventh floor, they approached a blank wall marked by a gargoyle statue. Dumbledore whispered, and the stone figure leapt aside, causing Nadia to jump back in alarm. When she next looked, a doorway stood where the gargoyle had been. Dumbledore gave her a reassuring smile, then stepped through the door. Nadia hesitated, so Professor McGonagall stepped past with a murmured apology.

"It usually doesn't hurt," Snape said in a snide tone, his mouth twitching. Gingerly, Nadia placed her foot on the staircase, which moved like a circular escalator made of stone. Amused, Snape stood two steps down, prepared to catch her should she lose her balance.

"Come in, come in, my dear," Dumbledore said cheerfully, guiding her to the middle of three chairs facing a large desk. "I apologize if you were startled by the unusual conveyance. My old legs." He smiled wearily.

"Um, yes, I'm sure it's a, uh, great convenience," Nadia said, trying to keep her composure as she looked around the odd circular room whose wall was jammed with paintings—portraits, to be exact. Snape closed the oak door behind them, taking the seat to Nadia's left.

The Headmaster's desk contained books, parchments, scarlet quill and silver inkpot. Scattered about were various-small tables holding assorted odd little machines with spinning parts, occasionally spewing steam and emitting a whir. The wall behind the desk contained a shelf holding the disheveled hat she'd seen the previous night, and a lovely, jeweled sword. Directly behind the Headmaster's chair was a portrait of a man with scant hair; the subject seemed to have tried to strike a distinguished pose, but looked more feeble than dignified. Books were scattered about, giving the office the appearance of a very old, eccentric library. An exotic, red-orange bird preened just behind the door.

Dumbledore distributed tea while she curiously examined the room. She picked up a dainty cup and saucer, just to give her nervous hands something to do.

"Well, my dear," Dumbledore began gently, "Hogwarts—this castle—is a school. A school of witchcraft and wizardry."

Nadia sat very still, her smile now frozen as she considered whether this kindly old man and his colleagues were teasing her or, as the British say, barmy. She stole sideways glances at Snape and McGonagall. The woman darted the old man a sideways glance but otherwise kept a poker face.

Buying time, Nadia took a sip of tea, setting the cup and saucer a spindly table between her and Snape. The ornamental brass mechanism on it chugged merrily.

"Oh. You mean as in witches? Spells? Broomsticks and such?" she asked gamely.

"Yes, actually," Dumbledore said. "The students here are all witches and wizards, as are we." He tilted his head. "A little hard to believe, isn't it?"

"Well—yes," she said, her mouth twisting; she couldn't decide whether to laugh, smile or be apprehensive. "Last night was very impressive—you've obviously got some people talented in robotics and CG."

Anticipating that reaction, Dumbledore smiled indulgently. "I suppose a slight demonstration may be called for," he said, pulling from a pocket what appeared to be a carved stick. As his captive guest curiously watched, Dumbledore pointed at a book on his desk, made a small curving motion with his wand, and the book opened.

"Wow! That's good," Beasley said, not knowing what else to say.

Dumbledore looked to Minerva for support, but before she could respond, Snape sighed, pulled out his wand, and pointed to the side table next to Nadia. "Wingardiam Leviosa,"he murmured. The floral cup and saucer soared above her head, then settled down to float at chest level. Nadia gasped.

"Please, spare us any fainting," Snape said in a bored tone. Both the Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress shot him disapproving looks.

"I've never fainted in my life!" Nadia snapped, grabbing the saucer, which she was afraid would fall into her lap. Snape smirked with satisfaction, and her cheeks reddened.

"Severus. Really," McGonagall chastised.

Her chest heaving, Nadia tried to rationalize what had just occurred. It's just a trick, she thought, even though she was unable to find see any strings or other possibilities. She instinctively passed her hand above the teacup and saucer, expecting the find clear thread.

"It really is magic, my dear," Dumbledore sympathized. "It's must be a bit difficult when one encounters it the first time."

"Well, um, yes," she ventured. "I have seen some impressive magic shows on TV. Always wondered how it was done … "

She heard a snort, which sounded as if it came from behind her, and turned slightly. No one was there, just a row of the portraits depicting individuals from various periods, including a dark 19th Century man with a sharply unpleasant expression. She could have sworn the painted figure moved ever so slightly.

"This is not television, Miss Beasley, nor is this a Muggle magician's show," Snape hissed before the Headmaster could rein him in. "Perhaps you'd like—"

"I'll handle this, thank you, Severus," Dumbledore said, motioning his Potions master to calm himself. "Minerva, would you kindly—?"

"As you wish, Headmaster," his deputy replied, then turned to face Nadia. "This may be somewhat unnerving, but don't be afraid."

As Nadia watched, the Scots professor melded into a tabby cat, which sat purring in McGonagall's chair. Nadia jerked to the far side of her chair before realizing that put her in closer proximity to the daunting Professor Snape on the other side of the narrow table between them. Speechless, she swallowed, took a deep breath, and turned to face Dumbledore.

"Thank you, Minerva. You may Transfigure back now," Dumbledore invited the cat, which promptly melded back into an elder woman. Nadia blinked several times.

"I do sense a fainting spell coming on," Snape observed, calmly swirling his tea before taking a sip.

"I-I—don't understand," the American stuttered, shrinking into her chair in fear.

Dumbledore rose and, taking a crystal bottled from the cabinet behind him, poured an amber fluid into a cut-glass low-ball glass. "Perhaps this will help. Firewhisky. It's similar to what you call Scotch."

With shaking hand, Nadia accepted the glass, and tentatively sipped. Finding the alcohol akin to American whiskey, she took a long, slow sip, closing her eyes as it burned down her throat. Dumbledore and McGonagall watched with concern until alcohol-induced relaxation became apparent. "Thank you," she sighed.

Shape sat with his arms crossed over his chest. "Convinced?" he asked without requiring—or expecting—an answer.

"V-very," she stuttered "Wha—what was that you did?" Nadia asked McGonagall.

"It's called 'Transfiguration,' dear. That's what I teach at Hogwarts," she smiled worriedly, as if she'd seriously startled a First-Year Muggle-born.

"Severus teaches Potions," Dumbledore said, as Snape nodded without looking at Nadia. "We also have professors who teach Herbology, Charms, Magical Creatures—yes, even broomstick flying," he smiled broadly at his last addition. "Truly."

She'd paled considerably, but determined to regain her composure, if only to wipe the irritating smirk from Professor Severus Snape's thin lips. Perhaps—just perhaps—he really did disappear before her eyes, but she wouldn't ask about that and give him the satisfaction of making yet another smart remark.

"What surprises us most," McGonagall added, "is that you were actually able to get to Hogwarts. You shouldn't have been able to get on the Express, let alone into the castle."

"So," Nadia said gingerly, "that explains all of the questions—and disbelief." She cocked her head toward Snape at the last phrase. "But why can't I leave? If you can use … magic, why can't you get me out of here?" she looked from one to the other with confusion.

"We are still trying to understand why," Dumbledore admitted with the air of pondering The Daily Prophet's crossword.

"Indeed," Snape interjected dryly.

"It's not as if I planned any of this," she said, directing a sharp glance at Snape, before returning her gaze to Dumbledore and McGonagall, who listened sympathetically. "While your castle's certainly interesting," she added ruefully, "I didn't intend to wind up being, well, trapped."

"Or perhaps you are the trap?" Snape suggested softly.

She swiveled in her chair to level her eyes at the insinuating Potions master. "Do you really think I'm purposefully blocking your efforts? Do you really think I'd risk losing my job, and therefore my home? Do I strike you as some sort of—nut?"

Snape's long smirk answered affirmatively before he said flatly, "You could be a spy."

Her nostrils flared. "A spy! Are you crazy? A spy for what? In case you haven't heard, the Cold War's over!"

Snape's countenance darkened, and Dumbledore stepped in.

"We do have some questions, my dear, about how it is possible for you to enter Hogwarts," he said apologetically, coming around his desk to bend in front of her. "You see, there are powerful charms and spells here to prevent Muggles—that's what we call non-Magical people—from even seeing Hogwarts. It should be impossible for you to be here."

"So my presence could be seen as … threatening?" she surmised. She forced herself not to glance at Snape.

"I would not like to call it such, but we would be more comfortable if we could determine exactly what happened and why," Dumbledore admitted.

Nadia leaned toward the Headmaster. "What would you like me to do?" she asked earnestly. "I rather suspect now that Mr. Snape here"—Severus scowled at the perceived disrespect—"has been through my things, so you know that I have a valid passport and plane ticket. I think I have some business cards with me. But obviously, that's not enough." She raised an eyebrow.

"What I propose," Dumbledore said gently, "is that you allow the use of Legilimency. It basically means to look into your mind."

"Mind reading?" Her face showed a mixture of disbelief and cautiousness. After all, I did just witness a human turn into a cat, she reasoned.

"Legilimency," Snape sighed, placing aside his teacup, "is the art seeing another person's memories and emotions. One skilled in the art can reach into the mind to find such memories and feelings, and to interpret them correctly. While the Latin translation is, literally, 'mind-reader,' it is not," he emphasized the negative exactingly, "mind reading."

Enrapt by the concept but disturbed by the implications, Nadia turned to the Headmaster for reassurance.

"It can sometimes be slightly uncomfortable at the moment, but it's entirely harmless," Dumbledore answered.

"It can be more uncomfortable when the subject is unwilling," Snape added dryly.

"I'm a very honest and forthright person," Nadia insisted. "If my integrity is in question, I'm more than willing to cooperate."

"And, I assure you," Dumbledore said firmly, pointedly looking at Snape and then more softly to Nadia, "that you will be entirely unharmed. Severus may indeed appear severe, but he will not do anything that could cause you mental, emotional or physical distress."

Snape bowed his head formally toward the Headmaster.

"All right," Nadia said, absently downing the rest of the Firewhisky, which had remained untouched since the two initial sips. Snape's mouth twitched almost imperceptibly with satisfaction.

"And meanwhile, I'm sure you could use a bit of entertainment," Dumbledore said. "You might enjoy reading about wizarding history and some of the courses here." Snape shot a disapproving glare, which Dumbledore cheerfully ignored. "I'll bring some to your rooms later today. Is there anything else you might want or need?"

"I do like music," she ventured.

"Ah, Professor Flitwick—our Charms instructor—has some instruments he can loan you," Dumbledore said with approval. Noticing a continued worried look on her face, he inquired, "Are you still concerned about Professor Snape, Miss Beasley?"

Snape bodily turned to her with an expression of twisted amusement, but she shook her head without noticing. "It's just-the lute I ordered and paid for before Ileft for Britain," she explained.

"Not to worry. Not to worry," Dumbledore said, making a note on parchment with an old-fashioned feather quill. "I'll see to it that it is picked up and immediately brought to you."

"Thank you," she replied with relief. "That's very generous of you." From the corner of her eye, she noticed Snape's evident boredom.

"Delightful!" Dumbledore responded, making up for his youngest professor's poor manners. "I would enjoy hearing you play."

Bringing the interview to an end, the Headmaster rose and took her hand, giving it a warm squeeze. "Don't worry about anything, my dear. We'll have you back on schedule soon. And until then, please enjoy Hogwarts' best hospitality. Mr. Filch is waiting for you downstairs."

She relaxed in the old man's close presence. "Thank you. The room, the food, everything has been wonderful." She walked to the door with the understanding that Filch and his trustworthy cat return her back to the tower suite. "Good night," she addressed all.

"Good night," Dumbledore and McGonagall said in unison. Snape only nodded curtly. She closed the door behind her.

"Severus," Dumbledore's face became serious. "I want you to conduct Legilimency daily until we can get to the bottom of this. Use her rooms—the better to avoid prying eyes."

Gryffindors' in particular, Snape thought.

"Do everything necessary, but do try to elicit her cooperation by being at least … courteous," Dumbledore implored.

Snape nodded once. "My class schedule and House responsibilities will necessitate meeting in the evening," he agreed. "If I have detention-?" his lip curled.

"Minerva will see that it's carried out," Dumbledore answered in a businesslike fashion. "Spend as much time as you need on this problem. I want it resolved and her back home, without a memory of Hogwarts."

Snape rose and bowed slightly. "As you wish, Headmaster. Minerva," he finished. With a slight bow, he exited the office.

"I don't like this situation," Dumbledore admitted to his deputy, who nodded. "Not at all."

oOo

The Headmaster certainly had company in that opinion. Well into the night, the lone American lay staring at the four-poster bed's canopy.

What have I gotten myself into?

oOo

A/N: I hope you're enjoying this story. Please R&R—let me know what you think!