Sorry, I couldn't upload last night for some reason, but it's here now. Before we begin, I just want to say:

I love you! I love you all! Holmes44, luck-life, imSiriuslyLupin4you, ChocolateFrogsForMoony, Ally, The Lady of the Land, Abby, Caddy, Lizzy0308, Dark Oasis, Simone Leigh, The Shadow Bane, Cinder570, AidenVanHelsing, Deedlez01, FoxyWolfPlushie, theherbflower, AsHaYaM a2, jammin287 – I love you all for reviewing! You keep me sane and posting. I know I'm gushing here but… I love you guys! :D

Also, I actually have no idea when Regulus was killed, so if I'm wrong just ignore me. :)

Right. Okay. Honestly, I HAVE stopped gabbling now. You can get on with reading.

DISCLAIMER: I own no part of the Harry Potter books, films, etc. Everything belongs to JKR/Warner Bros.

All bits from the book(s)/film(s) are in bold

The Meaning Of Family

Chapter Fourteen

Remus sighed and rolled over, staring at the wall and studying the pale paint, which was glinting slightly in the moonlight.

Two months.

Two months he'd been stuck here with Molly and Arthur, imposing his company on them, commandeering their daughter's bedroom, pretending to make himself at home when all he really wanted was to be back in his own house.

Two nights of almost destroying Ginny Weasley's room and howling in pain as he scratched and bit himself. Two times he'd had to clear up, repair the curtains and the bedspread, before going downstairs to an embarrassed family doing their best to pretend they hadn't heard his humiliating and painful transformation and been kept up all night because of his howling and whining.

And he'd done nothing about finding Peter. Instead of being angry about Sirius's wrongful conviction, all he seemed able to feel was lethargy and a terrible kind of listless frustration that he was unable to do anything about his current situation. He didn't even know where to start when it came to finding Peter, and the fact that Molly seemed determined to keep her eagle eye on him at all times meant that he never got any time alone to think about it. She was always asking him to help her with the dishes, or to feed the chickens with Arthur; he supposed she was merely trying to be kind and distract him from thoughts of Sirius, but it was frustrating even so.

Dumbledore hadn't been round, and Remus supposed he'd been too busy. Remus felt that he himself had been too busy to even pause for breath, but when he looked back on the past two months, he realised he had done nothing but wander aimlessly around the Burrow, feeling too depressed and tired to lift a finger. He felt incredibly guilty every time he thought about Sirius, so as a result had thought of him as little as possible during the day.

The nights were when the truth came back to haunt him. Sirius had been stuck inside Azkaban for two months, convicted of a crime he had not committed, and the only person who might have a chance of proving his innocence had done absolutely nothing to help. It wasn't like he didn't want to help, but he truly couldn't see a way out of this impossibly nightmarish situation. He felt useless and pathetic, unable to contribute anything to the world, least of all to Sirius.

Sirius.

The one thing he needed most right now. The one thing he might never have again.

Every night he cried.

He'd half-begun to expect the tears now. It was always the same: first, he would feel the despair that had been pressing down on him all day, the despair he felt because he was in here; next, the depression and hopelessness of being in such a ridiculous and awful situation; the guilt he felt about James and Lily; and finally, the realisation that he was stuck, completely and utterly stuck, with no way out of here and no way to prove that he had not betrayed his best friends.

And that he would probably never see Remus again.

And every night, as hot tears fell down his cheeks, he would curl up in a ball and rock back and forth, a movement that, he'd realised one night, reminded him of Kreacher, one day two years ago, when the elf had come back home in total despair. Kreacher had told no one of the cause for his angst, despite many attempts to prise an explanation from him. The only explanation Sirius had ever been able to come up with was the news of Regulus's disappearance a few days later. He'd often wondered whether his brother's disappearance had had anything to do with Kreacher's sudden and violent distress, but he'd been the only one to ever make such a connection, and Kreacher would most likely have bludgeoned himself to death had he hurt or harmed Regulus in any way; the crazy House Elf had always been very attached to the Blacks' younger son.

He wiped the tears from his eyes, contemplating his brother's sudden disappearance and wondering what had happened to Regulus. He was surely dead, and most likely at the hands of the Death Eaters – you didn't leave them, you were in for life, whether that was long or cut short at the hands of other members – but how? Not by Voldemort, that was for certain. Regulus wasn't important enough to be killed by his mighty master. He'd only been sixteen when he'd joined them, and sixteen when he'd suddenly vanished, never to return. Sirius hugged his knees, thinking about his brother and all the childish fights, the teenage bickering, the constant sibling rivalry that had never and would never cease. He thought of all the things he'd never said to his brother; how he'd not meant to hurt him whenever they'd fought. How he hadn't actually minded his company that much when they were both quiet and absorbed in books in the Grimmauld Place library. How he was sure he'd sometimes caught a look of discomfort in Regulus's eyes when their mother started talking about how wonderful her younger son was at dinner parties. How he'd really, however reluctantly, admired the way Regulus flew on the Quidditch pitch, with perfect gracefulness, how he'd had to suppress a cheer the only time his brother had caught the Snitch before his best friend during a match. How he'd worried about him when he'd joined the Death Eaters in his fifth year. How he'd actually, in an odd way, felt affection for his brother – loved him, in his own strange way.

They were so different, yet so similar. Almost identical. His mother had said the phrase over and over to anyone who would listen. Sirius remembered once, as a small child, when he'd looked into the mirror and expected to see Regulus gazing curiously back at him. He'd been almost surprised when he'd seen himself looking through the glass. He'd peered closer, breath misting the glass, thinking that maybe he'd been tricked, and that it was only because he and Regulus were so similar that he'd thought he'd seen himself. Once again, however, it was a mirror-Sirius frowning back at him. He'd pulled a face, and walked away, but as he'd lay in bed that night there had been a soft knock on his door, and he'd opened it to see Regulus standing on the landing, sucking his thumb – something their mother had always scolded him for, as it would 'make his teeth grow outwards' – and complaining of a bad dream. Sirius had sighed, feeling a little irritated, and led him into his own bedroom, letting his little brother sleep in his bed for the night. He'd muttered as he'd tucked Regulus in, but as he'd slipped in his own side, he'd caught sight of his brother, now sleeping peacefully, thumb still in mouth, jet-black hair barely visible over the dark green covers. It had struck Sirius how similar they really were – it wasn't just another of his mother's crazy mantras – and for a second he'd almost believed that he was looking into a mirror.

They'd got on so much better as young children, and though they'd fought like cat and dog, fights weren't as frequent or as violent and vindictive as when they got older and more became more distanced. Sirius had never told Regulus about that night, when Regulus, barely more than a toddler, had drifted into his room and slept peacefully and dreamlessly in his older brother's bed. Oddly, it was one of the things Sirius now wished he could have said when he'd had the chance.

He sighed, shaking his head at himself. It must be true what they said – Azkaban really did make you go crazy.

He'd been here just over two months. Now he wondered how long it would be before he completely lost his mind.

'Remus?'

'Mm.'

'I asked how you are faring these days.'

'Oh.' Remus shrugged indifferently. 'Fine.'

Dumbledore frowned, but didn't press the issue. 'Have you got any further with the search for Peter Pettigrew?'

Remus looked up from the Weasleys' kitchen table, where he was tracing patterns in a pile of spilled salt. 'Hmm? Oh. No.'

Dumbledore sighed. 'I was relying on you, Remus. It seems that I was mistaken in putting this kind of pressure on you. Clearly you have buckled under it.'

Remus frowned. 'What's that supposed to mean?' he said angrily. As always, his old headmaster remained infuriatingly calm and placid.

'I was merely suggesting that you were not responding particularly well to the challenge I have set –'

'Challenge?' Remus spat, his chair scraping loudly on the floor as he stood up. 'You think that's what this is? You think this is all just some big laugh and we can just See How Remus Does With His Little Task And If He Fails Then Oh Well, It Doesn't Really Matter? Is that what you think?'

Dumbledore stood up too; he was much taller than Remus and far more powerful. 'You are the one who has not done what you were most eager to do in the first place!' His normally calm face was contorted with rage, and his low, soft voice now a heated bellow. It was almost like the scene in the courtroom, when he had told Remus that life was sometimes unfair, and that he must learn to accept that fact, however difficult he may find it. His tone inspired guilt, and that guilt in turn inspired rage. Deep down, he knew Dumbledore was right, and that angered him more than anything else.

'I didn't start this!' he yelled. 'You should've done more to protect Lily and James! This is all your fault!'

Dumbledore shot him a cold look, but he was calm and perfectly composed as he replied, 'Do you think I do not feel guilty about this? Do you think I do not regret my foolish assumption that I could protect them? Do you think I do not wish, even now when it is hopeless and futile to wish for impossibilities, that I had insisted upon being Lily and James's Secret-Keeper myself?'

'I –'

'Furthermore, do you think that this is the first mistake I have made and repented for? Do you think I am perfect? You, like everybody else, assume that someone older and perhaps wiser than you cannot make errors, or mistakes, forgetting that wisdom is often attained by making errors and mistakes, and by learning from them. Do you think I am not doing everything I can to try and find Peter Pettigrew? I merely believed that you, who have known him for eleven years, might be a little more successful in your attempts than I. Clearly I failed to account for the two months you required to mope.'

These last words stung, and Remus winced involuntarily before glaring at Dumbledore. The old man had him cornered, there was no doubt about it, and he knew he would have to back down. He had nothing to fall back on, no excuse for his laziness and incompetence and Dumbledore knew it. Moreover, he'd used it to his advantage. At that moment Remus hated the old man like he'd never hated anything before. But he had to do it, had to grit his teeth and apologise.

'I'm sorry, Professor,' he muttered through clenched teeth. Dumbledore smiled, though it still wasn't quite as warm as usual.

'That is quite alright, Remus,' he said. 'I trust you will take my advice on board this time, and begin your search in earnest for Mr. Pettigrew?'

'Yes, sir,' Remus murmured. 'But I'd… like to ask a – a favour.' He bit his lip. Asking favours from Dumbledore at the current moment seemed rude, almost insolent. He'd done nothing to help rescue Sirius and bring Peter to justice, and here he was asking to be rewarded for it. Dumbledore expressed no surprise or offence at this, but simply asked, 'And what might that be?'

'I'd –' Remus hesitated, but proceeded cautiously. 'I'd like to move back to my own house, if that's alright, sir.'

To his astonishment, Dumbledore consented. He'd half been expecting his old headmaster to refuse and ask what right he had to demand such a thing, but instead he said, 'Naturally, Remus. As a matter of fact, I was planning to return you there anyway.'

Remus frowned, a little confused. 'You – you were?'

Dumbledore nodded. 'You don't honestly think Molly would allow you to go hunting for servants of Lord Voldemort while you were under her care, do you? If you are back under your own roof, while she may protest for your safety, she cannot refuse to allow you to leave your own house.'

Remus nodded, but there was one point that worried him slightly. 'When you said my safety, Professor…' he began, a little hesitantly.

'I meant that, even with as many of the Order with you as long as you need them, Molly Weasley can sometimes be maternal to the point of paranoia. She is sometimes a little too protective, I think,' Dumbledore return serenely. Remus instinctively turned round to check she wasn't behind them and listening to every word. Dumbledore gave a smile, all his usual warmth of character returned. Remus returned the smile as he said, 'Good. When can I leave?'

'You will leave on Wednesday morning.'

'Wednesday?' Remus frowned. 'Why can't I leave tomorrow?'

'Because,' Dumbledore said, 'I understand that Molly wants to spend one last day with you to make sure you will be alright when you return to your house.'

'But I'll be fine!' Remus protested.

'I know, Remus,' Dumbledore replied a little testily. 'But you must remember that Molly worries for everyone, and that you are not the healthiest or happiest of people at the moment. Please just comply.'

Remus scowled at the table but reluctantly said, 'Yes, sir.'

'Good,' Dumbledore smiled. 'I believe she wants to take you on a family trip to Diagon Alley.'

'It's just that Bill's broken his quill and he needs a new one before he goes back to Hogwarts after Easter, and Charlie hasn't been to London for a very long time and he wants to go again, and we'd like to get something for Percy, since we recently discovered that he can do magic (although, of course, there was no doubt about that really), and we really need to get Fred and George away from the village, they run amok there, the locals have had it up to here with them, and Ron's getting a bit restless and Ginny needs some new clothes – she's growing so fast now – and, well, Arthur and I are so worried about you, Remus. You're so thin and pale these days! You don't get out enough.'

Remus smiled tersely. He'd been wondering when Molly was going to mention that fact that she was worried, that he was losing weight and growing pale and not getting enough fresh air. He'd been wondering, in short, when she was going to become annoyingly maternal again. She'd been doing well so far, he thought a little sadly. She hadn't mentioned that he wasn't eating properly for two days – almost a record – and he'd been hoping against hope that she would make it three, and that he wouldn't have to hear how worried she was again before he set off for home. Unfortunately, just as he'd been thinking about this, she'd come down and announced their trip to Diagon Alley along with the exclamation that Remus really didn't eat enough these days and would he like some extra porridge.

'We'll go via the floo network,' Molly added as an afterthought, smiling encouragingly. Remus felt a bit bad; after all, she was only trying once again to take his mind off Sirius, but these days he doubted that that could ever be achieved. Perhaps his mind needed to be focused on Sirius all the time, so that he wouldn't stop thinking about his mission to find Peter and turn him in, so that he wouldn't lose his sense of aim that a trip to Diagon Alley might threaten to quash. He really didn't see why he had to go, but Dumbledore had said that he must go along with it for Molly's sake. He felt a little peevish that she was taking a day off his search for Peter, but there wasn't much he could do. He did his best not to sigh as, fifteen minutes later, he strolled along Diagon Alley with the nine Weasleys, the youngest two in pushchairs (which had presented a very interesting challenge in the fireplace; Arthur had had to take both Ron and Ginny as he threw the floo powder into the fire and called out his destination).

'So you're how old now?' Remus asked Bill half-heartedly as they ambled along the sunny street.

'Thirteen,' Bill replied. 'I'm in my second year at Hogwarts.'

'Cool,' Remus said for want of a more interesting reply. They walked in silence for some time.

'How old are you?' Bill asked suddenly, running his fingers through his short ponytail.

'Twenty-one,' said Remus, smiling as he remembered Sirius's opinion that twenty-one year olds should be out having one-night-stands with girls with 'inappropriately short skirts on'.

'Awesome,' Bill returned. Then he said, in a rush, as though he were not supposed to ask, 'Was that man your boyfriend?'

'What?' Remus said, eyebrows knitting together in bewilderment. What on earth was the kid talking about?

'Y'know,' Bill mumbled, suddenly embarrassed. 'Sirius Black.'

'Oh.'

''Cause that's okay,' Bill continued hurriedly.

'No, no,' Remus said, frowning and shaking his head. 'We – we weren't – together.'

'Oh,' Bill replied, sounding a little disappointed. 'It's just that, Mum said you were really close friends at school, right?'

'Right,' said Remus, wondering where this was going.

'Well… there's this girl at school, and I'm kind of friendly with her and I like her a lot. I was just wondering, do you think I should ask her out?'

Remus shrugged. 'Depends if she likes you, I suppose.'

Bill sighed. 'I don't think she does, actually. As more than a friend, I mean. I just thought that maybe, if it happened for you…'

'It's different for every situation,' Remus said. 'Besides, you'll probably meet some Veela someday and fall madly in love and have a whirlwind romance and marry her, all before you're thirty.'

Bill laughed. 'Thanks, Remus. I don't think that'll ever happen, though.'

Remus couldn't help but grin himself. 'You never know,' he said.

'How about an animal of some sort, Percy?' Molly asked, as they drew closer to the Magical Menagerie.

'Percy wants an owl,' Bill informed Remus. 'But Mum says they're too expensive.'

'Owls aren't that good anyway,' Remus said. 'I never had an owl.'

'We've got Errol,' Charlie piped up. 'But he's the family owl, and we've not had him that long, so he's still a bit scared of us.'

'I'm not surprised,' Remus muttered, watching Fred and George break free of their toddler reins and run into the Magical Menagerie, causing owls to screech and hoot angrily.

'Oh, no!' Molly moaned, chasing after them. Percy sighed haughtily and followed her. Arthur tried to get through the shop's tiny doorway with a pushchair in each hand, resulting in havoc, and a frightened Ron wailing in terror as looked up into the face of a huge caged tarantula. He was only just rescued by Charlie, who scooped him up out of his pushchair and held him out of harm's way.

Five minutes later, Molly exited the shop with Percy, who was looking very satisfied, and Ginny, with Arthur trailing behind, holding a pair of squirming three year olds under his arms.

'We've bought Percy a rat,' Molly informed Remus. 'He loves animals – he really wanted a kitten but we thought he'd be better off with a rat for the time being, since he's not really old enough to look after a cat just yet. A rat will be a bit easier, I think.' She smiled and looked over at her third son, who was showing off his new rat to Arthur and Charlie, though with some difficulty, as it had take it upon itself to suddenly squirm very violently. Percy's face contorted as he struggled to keep it under control, finally shoving it in his jacket pocket to keep it from squealing too loudly.

'I thought you said he was brand new,' Charlie said. 'He's got a big scratch down his nose.'

'It's probably because he keeps wriggling and scratching,' Bill muttered.

Remus couldn't help but feel that Molly's belief that a rat would be easy to care for was a little misguided.

'REMUS, YOU CAME BACK!'

He'd barely appeared out of thin air in his little village before he was almost knocked down by a squeal and a forceful hug.

'I didn't even see you there!'

'Wendy!' Remus smiled, somewhat relieved as he recognised the elfin figure grinning up at him. 'How are you?'

She took a proper look at him and frowned. 'You're so pale. Are you alright? How've you been?'

'Stop it,' he sighed, grimacing and looking away. 'You sound like Molly.'

'Who's Molly?' she enquired. Remus shrugged.

'Just a friend of someone I know. How are you?' he repeated, determined not to get bogged down in the events of his world over the past two months. 'What's your news?'

Wendy suddenly looked abashed, and bit her lip, not looking at him.

'Is everything okay?'

'Yeah, yeah, it's all fine,' she said too quickly. Remus rolled his eyes.

'I know you too well for you to fool me,' he told her. 'C'mon, tell me.'

'I – I can't,' she muttered hastily. 'I just… can't.'

He sighed. 'You can tell me anything. We're best friends, right?'

Wendy suddenly looked as though she were trying not to cry, and when she spoke, her voice was rough and hoarse, like she had a lump in her throat. 'H-he came back. Jack – Jack came back. He's here.'

Remus was speechless for a moment, before his brain began to work again and he remembered that Jack was the man Wendy had fallen in love with five years ago. He felt bad for not remembering sooner. He was a terrible friend, Sirius was probably right to have ignored his letters at Christmas.

'Come back to mine,' he said, taking hold of Wendy's arm and gently leading her along the road towards his house. 'Come back to mine and tell me everything.'

'He just – just appeared and walked over to me and said hi,' Wendy spluttered, deeply ashamed of the tears running down her cheeks but too distressed to do anything about them. 'It w-was like… like nothing had ever happened. Like he hadn't taken one look at me in a coffee shop last year and told me I was a terrible person for giving my baby away. Nothing! No apology or anything!'

'Maybe… maybe he felt guilty?' Remus suggested, wishing he was better at being an agony aunt. Sure, he was a good friend – kind, brave and loyal until the bitter end – but counselling wasn't his strong point. He bit his lip and racked his brains to find a better suggestion for the man's reasons for his actions. 'Maybe he misses you?'

'I mean, I don't even understand how he found me!' Wendy continued, hardly listening to Remus. 'It's not like any of my family would ever tell him where I am. They wouldn't, not after what he did to me.'

'People do stupid things when they're in love,' Remus said sagely, safe in the knowledge that he was most definitely speaking from experience. 'And when they're scared. Maybe he was scared you'd still be mad at him.'

'But I am mad at him!' Wendy cried, throwing her hands up in despair and making Remus jump. 'I'm so angry with him! As if he thinks he can just – just turn up and expect me to take him back! We were never even a proper couple in the first place!'

She was getting quite demented, and Remus wondered urgently how best to calm her down. He settled for saying, 'Maybe you ought to just stay away from him for a bit?' Unfortunately, this did not work as well as he had hoped; instead of debating the idea sensibly and calmly, she shrieked, 'Why should I have to hide out in my own village? Why should I have to stay away from him? He should be the one trying to stay away from me! When I get my hands on him, I'll –'

'Okay just calm down!' Remus cried, worried that Wendy was going to end up destroying his house in a wild rage. 'Calm down and think about it rationally! You've nothing to fear,' he said gently, as she sat down on the sofa and crossed her arms, glaring at him. 'Just, you know, be civil and polite but don't get in too deep and don't take any rubbish from him.'

Wendy sighed. 'I guess that's the only thing I can do,' she muttered with a groan. 'I just… I just wish the world could be simple for once.'

'Me too,' Remus said quietly. She looked at him.

'Please be here for me,' she whispered. 'I need you, Remus. You're my best friend. Please don't disappear again.'

Remus closed his eyes. 'How did you know I was going to disappear again?'

She shrugged. 'I knew you were going to drop some bombshell when you deliberately avoided telling me how you were. I just assumed you'd be off somewhere again because you never stick around for long.'

'Clever you,' Remus said, almost smiling. 'I'm sorry, Wendy, I have to go.'

'Go where?' she said, suspicion darkening her expression. 'You don't have to, Remus.'

'I do,' he said helplessly. 'I have to – to find somebody.'

'Who?'

'Nobody.'

'It can't be nobody, Remus,' Wendy argued, 'if you have to find him so badly.'

'It's just… I just have to find him because of Sirius.'

'Sirius?'

'Yeah… it's complicated.'

'What's he done?' Wendy asked, rolling her eyes. Remus scowled.

'Nothing, that's why I have to find Peter,' he said. 'But I don't even know where to start.'

'He'll be in the last place you look, I bet,' Wendy said wisely. Remus gave her a funny look.

'Of course he will,' he said disbelievingly. 'Once I find him I'm going to stop looking, aren't I?'

Wendy sighed.

'I'm so sorry, Peter.'

'It's fine, Remus, don't worry about it,' Peter said, gingerly touching his nose.

'I really am truly sorry!'

'It's fine!' the other insisted. 'It wasn't your fault, I was standing too close –'

'But I nearly took your nose off!'

'Give over, Moony, you're so melodramatic,' Sirius said languidly, yawning. 'We got him to Madam Pomfrey in time, didn't we?'

'It's fine, honest,' Peter said for the third time.

'I really didn't mean to scratch you –'

'For Merlin's sake, Moony,' Sirius complained. 'Please shut up.'

While Remus certainly would not have put up with this kind of attitude from anyone else, Sirius seemed to be an exception to most of his rules. He didn't know why or how, but he knew he'd readily give up his world for his best friend, so he stopped trying to apologise for scarring Peter the previous night. Peter had been standing just a little too close as Remus transformed in the Shrieking Shack, and the latter had turned around so violently that he'd clawed Peter accidentally and given him the scar of his lifetime. There was so much blood that one might think a murder had occurred – more blood, Remus realised next morning, than any of them had thought could spurt out from a cut on the bridge of the nose. They'd been so surprised that all four of them had frozen for almost a minute, until Peter had let out a groan and Sirius and James had remembered to get him out of the Shack and up to the hospital wing as quickly as possible. Remus, of course, had been in no state to accompany them, and so had spent the night unconsciously repenting by scratching and biting himself.

He'd staggered up to the hospital wing himself the following morning covered in fresh cuts and scratches and apologised profusely to Peter until Sirius had yawned and told him to shut up, which he obligingly did. It was just as well, because at that minute Madam Pomfrey bustled out of her office and nearly fainted when she saw the state of him, though he'd made up his mind to try his best to play it down.

'Look at you!' she cried. 'You're so pale!'

'I'm fine, I'm just – wait, what?'

'I'm sure you're not eating enough, Remus, I feel so terrible!'

'What are you talking about?' he asked, bemused and a little afraid. She wasn't making sense, and when he looked round to see if any of his friends could decipher the nonsense she was suddenly spewing, they seemed to have all disappeared except Peter, who was repeatedly touching his nose and then examining his hand for any blood. Remus looked back at Madam Pomfrey, who suddenly said, 'It's just that, Arthur and I are so worried about you!'

Remus froze. Who the hell was Arthur? The only Arthur he knew was…

And then the pieces began to fall into place in the puzzle of Peter's whereabouts.

'I mean, it's not like he has any distinguishing features, except for that big scar on his nose…' Madam Pomfrey said, her voice suddenly very soft. Remus whipped round to look at Peter, who immediately turned into the small grey rat he knew so well, before fleeing for his life as Remus lunged, bouncing off one of the hospital beds and crashing to the floor…

He woke on his own floor in a cold sweat, clutching at the covers that he had dragged off the bed with him, sweating and shaking.

Shit.

I know, I'm a bitch for leaving it here and making you wait a whole week. I'm just mean like that. Until next time, guys! :D