A/N: Well this started out as a short bit of humor which didn't really fit anywhere else (I still consider the first portion to almost be it's own chapter, but it's here nonetheless!) Then someone mentioned Malcolm, and Ginny started fluttering around my brain, and suddenly it became another 3000 words. So much for a second small update... I hope you all enjoy! And thank you for all of the reviews, and the excitable tweeting. You all definitely inspired this. Thanks especially to MegaNerdAlert who brought my brain straight into the clutches of Malcolm. Without that review I would have left a gaping hole in my story. So thanks!

Enjoy!

Lavender Brown was having a bad week.

It had begun with something simple—her homework. Every night she would hastily write her essays and complete her assignments, and every night she would carefully tuck them into her bag. But no matter how many times she double checked her bag, the homework never seemed to make it all the way to the classroom. She had already earned two detentions for failing to bring in her assignments.

She was far from pleased, and had even stopped speaking to Pavarti, convinced that her friend was the one who had misplaced her work after borrowing it.

But then other things started happening. After the homework, it was her shoes. They began to systematically disappear from her closet. On Monday she hadn't been able to find her favorite pair of heels, then her trainers on Tuesday. By Thursday so many were missing that she had ended up having to badly transfigure a pair of socks into clogs.

It wasn't until someone had stealthily hit her with a bat-bogey hex during lunch on Wednesday that she began to suspect some sort of conspiracy. The shoes and homework could be explained away, or considered a simple prank, but only one student was capable of that powerful of a bat-bogey hex—and only one student had been trained in stealth by the Weasely Twins.

"Ginny!" she screeched, causing the younger witch to look up in surprise. "I know this was you!"

"Oh Lavender!" Ginny said, an air of fake surprise in her voice, "What happened to your face?"

She stomped her foot petulantly, "You know exactly what happened to my face, Ginny. Now undo it!"

Ginny frowned, "Sorry Lav, it wasn't me. Though I may know of a face cream that could help, if you need it."

Ginny turned back to her conversation, a small smiled peeking out from under her innocent facade, and Lavender whined in humiliation before hurrying from the hall, a book placed in front of her face.

At that point, Lavender began to tread more carefully. She watched for possible pranks around every corner and was careful to check her food for any sort of tampering.

Unfortunately, she trusted her WonderWitch products unquestioningly, and didn't notice the slight change in label when she received her newest shipment. Stepping out of the shower on Friday morning she found that her hair had been dyed an outrageous Orange, with bright purple polka dots scattered throughout.

After her initial screaming had quieted down, Pavarti had assured her that she knew a spell to fix it, but with every wave of her wand the damage simply became worse until Lavender was eventually forced to go to class with her, now, green and pink zebra striped hair.

At the end of that day she had approached Hermione, an exceptionally sour expression clashing with her sensational hair. "Hermione," she said quietly, causing the girl in question to look up from her books. "I—I was wondering if you knew anything about hair charms."

Hermione smiled kindly, "I actually know quite a bit. It takes no small amount of work to tame my hair, when I'm feeling in the mood."

Lavender sighed in relief, having been worried that Hermione would still be sore over her comments in those articles. She sat down next to her classmate, "I ordered my usual shampoo, but didn't notice that someone had tampered with the bottle before it was delivered. Now my hair is stuck like this, and every time I try to remove the charm, it just changes shade and pattern!" she cried, "It's humiliating. Everyone is whispering about me, and laughing! You can't imagine."

Hermione tilted her head slightly, resting a comforting hand on Lavender's shoulder. "I completely understand, Lav. And I know how difficult it must be. Weirdly enough, I've been in that situation several times. Several girls from my classes have felt the need to talk about me in the newspapers. Spreading nasty rumors from time to time; it's absolutely abysmal to deal with."

Lavender paled slightly.

"But you know what's worse?" Hermione continued, her expression darkening, "Seeing one of your friends deal with the same thing. It really is tough, Lavender."

"You—you did this?" She whispered, shock evident in her tone, "But, you—you're head girl! You never break the rules!"

Hermione smirked slightly, "I didn't do this, Lav. I wish I had done this. Unfortunately, Minerva asked our friends to leave you alone, and I respected that. Though… it seems I was the only one. It's really quite unfortunate, I had the great plan—it was going to be like Marietta from fifth year, but so much more horrible."

"She asked you not to harass me?"

Hermione nodded, "Naturally. She said she wanted to deal with things herself at some point, but that she didn't want the entire wrath of the former DA to come raining down on you. She didn't think that sounded fair."

Lavender frowned, "But you're not going to help me?"

Hermione laughed, "Oh, certainly not. I may not be able to punish you myself, but I wouldn't dare tamper with that hair. It's so fitting for you."

It was nearing midnight on Friday, and Lavender was quietly slipping through the portrait hole. She had snuck into the prefect's bathroom, hoping that the stronger tap may help to wash away whatever potion had done this. She hadn't had any luck, but the bath had helped her to relax at least.

As she carefully treaded towards the girls' staircase she suddenly stopped, noticing two glowing eyes in the darkness. A small whimper escaped, despite her best efforts.

"Prof—Professor McGonagall," she whispered, "Is that you?"

A hiss came from across the room, followed by the sound of feline paws darting across the room. Lavender let out another moan, no longer able to see the silent feline, but confidant that moving would not help her situation.

Suddenly, from less than a foot in front of her, Minerva transformed. "Evening, Lavender."

Lavender jumped back, "I—I'm sorry, Professor," she said quickly, trying to apologize sufficiently before she could be punished. "What I did, was very very wrong."

"Too late," Minerva bit out.

"But—"

"Silence," she commanded, and Lavender quieted immediately. "Miss. Brown, for eight years I have put up with your incessant rumor mongering and harassment. You have passed confidential information into the hands of the Prophet so many times that they should be paying you. But I have never been able to do anything, because you haven't technically broken any rules."

Lavender seemed to relax slightly, "So—so I can't be punished?"

Minerva smirked. "Improper verb tense, Miss. Brown. You couldn't be punished. I was a professor, my hands were tied."

"But—"

"If you recall, I am no longer a professor. I am an eighteen year old girl, and hexing you into oblivion wouldn't be the first rule I've broken since becoming one."

"I won't do it again, I'm sorry!" At this point Lavender had backed herself up against a couch, and Minerva stepped uncomfortably close.

"I am not going to punish you this time, Miss. Brown—it seems several of my comrades have already done that. But if you do this again—"

"I won't!"

"Miss. Brown, do you remember your fourth year at this school? When the imposter Alastor Moody transfigured Draco Malfoy into a ferret?" She nodded slowly, her eyes wide. "If you recall, I stopped him. I told him that we never use Transfiguration as a form of punishment."

"Yes," she whispered.

"I find that my opinion has changed slightly, Miss. Brown. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Lavender nodded.

"Good," Minerva bit out. "I hope you have a pleasant evening, Miss. Brown."

As she disappeared from sight, up the stairs and into her room, Lavender slumped against the couch, breathing a sigh of relief.

'Yes' she thought to herself, 'I'm having a very bad week.'

"I'll stay here," Hermione said stubbornly, sipping her orange juice at breakfast. Minerva had just declined to go to Hogsmeade with she and Harry and Ron.

"No, you won't."

"Yes, we'll go to the library, or play scrabble!" Hermione said, the artificial brightness in her voice causing Minerva to cringe.

"Hermione, you haven't been out of the Castle in over a week. And you haven't spent time with just Harry and Ron in ages."

"But I want to spend time with you," she said softly, causing Minerva to smile.

"And you will, but take the day and go to Hogsmeade."

"Are you sure you won't come along?"

"Hermione," Minerva responded quietly, "I'm getting enough stares around here. It's been a long two weeks, and a day of lying low and reading in our room sounds marvelous."

Hermione sighed heavily, "Alright, but you'll have dinner with me tonight?"

Minerva smiled, "Well, I was thinking about eating my socks—but I suppose I could come to the Great Hall instead."

Hermione chuckled, "Okay, okay. I can take a hint." She stood up, a piece of toast in hand, and lent towards her, causing Minerva to quickly pull her into a hug.

"Yea, have a great day with the boys," she said loudly, causing Hermione to blush. They both knew what she had almost done—in the middle of the Great Hall, no less.

"See ya," Hermione whispered, her face a burning scarlet.

Minerva watched the young girl leave the room, and couldn't contain a slight chuckle. "She's rather dreadful at hiding it, isn't she?" a voice laughed from across the table. Minerva looked over quickly, calming when she saw that it was just Ginny. Apparently noticing the slight panic in her expression, Ginny smiled, "Don't worry, my lips are sealed. And I don't think anyone else has noticed—though no one else heard you screaming at my brothers over Christmas."

Minerva smiled slightly, "Thanks, Ginny. And no, she's absolute rubbish at it. I adore the girl, but you would think after all of her adventures with Harry she would know how to be subtle."

Ginny shrugged, "Snape would blame it on our being tactless Gryffindors."

Minerva's lips pursed at that, "Indeed."

"She's just excited, Minerva. Give her a chance to get used to things, she'll get better," Ginny advised. She looked thoughtful for a moment, before continuing. "Hermione, she hasn't ever gotten much attention, not in that way. And for someone who looks like you, who she has also idolized for eight years, to pay her the kind of attention you are—it means a lot to her. She's rather walking on air right now. I don't doubt for a moment that she would stay hidden forever if it meant keeping your heart, but that doesn't stop the fact that she is young and in love and dying to share that fact with the entire universe. Sometimes instinct takes over."

Minerva smiled shyly, "I feel the same way," she said. "It's just lucky that one of us knows how to control our hormones."

Ginny snorted, "You're not exactly perfect, you know."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that you practically glow whenever she walks into a room, and your eyes glaze over whenever she performs particularly advanced magic."

"Oh," Minerva said, her face heating up again.

"And you watch her when she reads," Ginny said with a smile, "Most girls watch the boys play quidditch with that expression on their faces, yet you watch her read."

Minerva chuckled, "Well what's so impressive about playing quidditch? Finding a person who loves books is much more difficult than finding a boy with a broom."

"Very true," Ginny agreed.

Minerva smiled, "I think I'm going to go back to my room and study, but thanks for the chat Ginny."

"Anytime. You—you know that I'm not like Ron, right?" She asked suddenly, her face nervous. "I mean, I know we aren't as close as you are with Harry or Hermione, but I don't mind that you are—or used to be—my professor. I really enjoy having you around."

Minerva beamed, "I know, I feel the same, Ginny." Minerva walked away then, a light smile on her face. She hadn't planned to have any sort of heart to heart with the younger Gryffindor woman, but she was glad they had. It was nice to know that someone else understood and accepted her and Hermione. Heck, it was good to know someone else accepted her.

Reaching the common room Minerva waived awkwardly at a couple of the students who just stared back at her, before hurrying into her room. Entering her room she muttered irritably under her breath, "It's just rude to stare at people like that, if they would just tell me off, I wouldn't care. But all the damnable staring."

As she tossed her robes onto the bed she heard a soft hoot from the window, causing her to visibly jump. Glancing behind her she saw a sturdy barred owl sitting in her window, red and brown flecks scattered throughout its feathers. As she looked at it the owl clipped its beak and shook its feathers, allowing a fair amount of snow to scatter off, and clearly saying, 'I'm cold, open the damned window.'

Opening the window slightly, but not allowing the bird access yet, she glared. "Do I want to know how you gained access to the dormitory?" she asked sternly. The owl clipped its beak again, this time closer to Minerva, as if threatening to nip her. She frowned, "You could have just sent a letter," she sighed, stepping away from the window.

The owl drifted through quickly, taking a quick flutter around the room before dropping to the ground. Minerva closed the window tightly, and by the time she had turned around the owl was gone. In its place stood an intimidating man, standing nearly six feet four inches, with broad limbs and long auburn hair. The hair was tied back and lay neatly over a set of emerald robes with black fastenings.

Most people would have been put off by him at first site, he would have made an intimidating specimen—had it not been for the fact that he was now bent over, loud laughter echoing about the room. "You're—you're tiny," he wheezed, causing Minerva to glare fiercely.

"I am not tiny, thank you. I'm the same height I've ever been."

"Perhaps," he said, finally containing himself to a soft chuckle and an amused grin, "But you're practically a twig, and you're slouching. I can't remember the last time I saw you slouch."

Minerva sat down on her bed, straightening her back exaggeratedly. "I seem to have picked up a fair number of bad habits recently."

"So I've read," he laughed, perching himself on the edge of Hermione's bed. "You know, you could have at least written. I know I'm a bit of a hermit, but that doesn't mean I don't read the prophet like anyone else."

Minerva smiled slightly, "Sorry, Malcolm. I honestly didn't think, things have been a bit hectic."

He grinned again, "Obviously. But you couldn't even write your big brother?"

"You're not my big brother."

"You're eighteen—I'm 57, sounds like I'm your big brother Minnie."

"You will always be the little one—goodness knows you act like it. And don't use that abhorrent name."

"Gonna turn me into a newt again?"

"Perhaps," she said, a mischievous smirk in place.

"I shouldn't have gone with you to see that film," he laughed, and she stuck out her tongue.

Looking at her closely, he lost some of the smile he had been sporting since arrival, finally appraising her seriously. "Now really Min, what's going on? Is it all the papers said?"

She sighed, "The prophet was pretty straight forward."

"So you're eighteen? And you can't get back?"

She shook her head, "I'm stuck this way. I'm going to age, but I'm starting at eighteen again."

"Wow."

Minerva laughed lightly, "You're telling me." She couldn't help but appreciate Malcolm's simplicity at that point. Most people asked her a whole barrage of questions, understandably. But Malcolm was simple. Is it true? Yes. Okay then.

"So what are you planning on doing now?" He asked, his eyebrows furrowed slightly. Minerva smiled slightly; he looked like their father when he made that expression. A natural jokester and indescribably arrogant, she rarely saw him worried about anything. He generally just fluctuated between amused and determined.

"I'm going to graduate," she said, shrugging. "Then I suppose I'll start teaching again. I mean, I loved it for nearly fifty years, why shouldn't I love it again?"

He nodded slightly, "I suppose that would be logical."

Minerva frowned, she knew that tone of voice. "But?"

"But you have a chance to experience the world again; wouldn't you like to try something new?"

"I've fought in two wars. I've traveled the world more than once. I have two masteries, numerous awards, and more money than I know what to do with. What else could I want to do?" she asked seriously, "I mean, sure I considered trying to play Quidditch—but I don't really want that level of celebrity, and I like teaching."

He pursed his lips for a moment, considering her words, "Try not to hex me, Min—but what about family?'

Her eyebrows shot up, "What?"

"I mean, I know you love your books and research. And I know you love teaching. But you're always locked away in the castle, and it's not like there are many eligible partners around—unless you fancy Snape…"

"Ew."

"Exactly," he laughed, "I'm not saying give up your whole life, but wouldn't that be something worth pursuing this time around? You have another chance and, well I know that you've been lonely Min, I pay attention, don't I?"

She blushed darkly, "I haven't shut myself off to possibility," she said quietly, glancing at the picture that Hermione had next to her bed. It was of her and the boys.

Glancing back at Malcolm she saw him grinning, "Minnie's got a crush on a student?"

"Oh won't you be quiet?" she snapped, causing him to just grin further. She could make nearly anyone blanch when she glared at them the way she was toward Malcolm, and yet he just smiled back amusedly. He had always been immune, even as a small child.

"So who is it? You were glancing at that picture, weren't you? One of the golden trio?"

She rolled her eyes, "All three despise that nickname."

"So does this person know?" he asked.

"Yes, they are aware of the situation," she snapped again.

"Oh sweet Merlin, you're dating a student aren't you?"

"No!"

"You are! That's why you're blushing so much, and trying to get me to quiet!" Minerva just snapped her mouth closed, crossing her legs in front of her, and staring determinately at the wall. Malcolm continued to smile, "Oh I always liked this game—though I don't have your diary to help me guess this time."

"I don't keep a diary anymore, you nitwit."

"Why not, you're eighteen aren't you?"

"And you're acting like a twelve year old. Honestly Malcolm!"

He ignored her entirely, moving fully onto the bed and leaning back against Hermione's pillows. Minerva shook her head slightly, she hoped Hermione wouldn't mind. She would have hoped her younger brother had better manners than to lounge on someone else's bed.

As a young man, he had always acted older than he was. In school he had helped his fellow students, received top marks, and had been a prefect. If it wasn't for his affinity for sarcastic remarks and the occasional prank, he would have ended up Head Boy—the Headmaster had told them all as much. Malcolm had taken care of their brother Robert endlessly, and had been a top Auror for nearly ten years.

But after Robert was killed, Malcolm had seemingly given up. Not on life—he had found a new determination in him to live every day in the most worthwhile way possible. No, he had given up on responsibility. He retired early and began traveling the world.

Robert stayed far away from the Isles and was rarely in contact, but he seemed to be happy. They saw each other on occasion, and each time his smile seemed broader than the last. It had been several years since they last saw each other face to face, and it seemed he was even more laid back than before.

Watching him lounge across Hermione's bed, she couldn't help but wonder if he was the one who had been deaged. He was 57 years old, and yet looked no more than 35. His hair was long, his robes were fitted, and his eyes were twinkling.

Maybe she should be taking lessons from him.

Drawing her out of her thoughts, he began mulling over her romantic interests loudly, "Well they would have to be smart—more than smart, completely brilliant. And stubborn enough to fight you from time to time. Someone with a keen sense of humor, and a rebellious streak, but who doesn't feel the need to make a scene. They would have to be advanced, to catch your interest this soon after the transformation."

Minerva scowled at him, he knew her far too well. Still, he was missing one key clue to solving his puzzle. "And naturally, they would have to be a woman," he grinned, glancing towards her. He knew that he was going to catch her off guard, and wanted to see her reaction.

Well, she hadn't disappointed. Still sitting in her well poised position, she had suddenly lost her balance and toppled to the floor, making him laugh loudly, "I forgot how long it took you to become graceful."

She growled at him as she stood up, dusting off her jeans, "You surprised me, jerk."

"What, you thought that over the last 57 years I hadn't noticed that my little sister was leering at all of the same women I was?"

"I do not leer!" she objected, causing him to snort.

"You really, really, do." She rolled her eyes. "Don't worry Min, I've known for years. Robert knew too. We never cared, and I still don't."

She studied her hands carefully as she whispered, "Thanks, Mal."

"So, all that being said," he smiled, returning to his previous mood. "There is really only one guess as to who it is you're dating at Hogwarts."

"Malcolm," she said warningly.

Just then, Hermione bound into the room chattering excitedly, "I'm back early! I missed you, and Ron was being a complete arse, as usual. So how was your—" she stopped suddenly, her eyes on the man who was sitting on her bed.

"Speak of the devil and she will appear," he said smiling charmingly. He moved from her bed quickly. "I'm very sorry for commandeering your bed; I was just visiting with Minerva. Malcolm McGonagall, at your service." He finished his introduction with a little bow, and Hermione just gaped at him, her mouth moving comically.

"I—well—Hello, lovely to meet you," she stuttered, glancing quickly between the siblings. "I'm sorry; I'm just a bit surprised. I didn't expect anyone to be visiting."

"Neither was I," Minerva promised.

"Well, Minerva somehow forgot to tell her brother that she had reverted to being an eighteen year old girl, so I thought it was worth popping by."

Hermione shook her head, "I don't blame you. Finding out about something like that from the papers."

Minerva rolled her eyes, "Grand, now you're both against me." Malcolm grinned mischievously before taking Hermione's hand and kissing it.

"I'm so very pleased to meet you as well, Miss. Granger. I've heard quite a bit about you over the years, from papers, and Minerva of course, but you are certainly more charming in reality."

Hermione stared at him wide eyed and surprised, as Minerva rolled her eyes, "Lay off the charm, Malcolm."

"I can help it, Minnie, it comes naturally," he smirked, "Don't worry; unlike you I have no interest in dating people half my age. I won't steal her away."

Minerva threw her pillow at him, hitting him squarely in the jaw. He groaned slightly, and then looked back at Hermione, "I always forget that she's a chaser."

"You're being an idiot, Malcolm."

He smiled towards her, "You're just mad because I guessed on my first try. I've always been good at guessing her romantic interests, she's rather obvious," he whispered towards Hermione conspiratorially.

Hermione looked at Minerva confused, "I thought that you said no one knew about your... interests?"

Malcolm laughed, "As I said, she's obvious."

"Sorry, dear. I hope you don't mind him knowing, I couldn't really stop him."

"Certainly not," he replied, "I'm surprised it took the age jump."

"Malcolm, I would never!" Minerva argued.

"Hermione, this woman mentioned you in nearly every letter she wrote me. Granted, she didn't write many. But any time she talked about her students she inevitably mentioned the brilliant muggleborn witch who was going to guarantee Gryffindor the house cup."

Hermione beamed at him, then turned towards a blushing Minerva, "Don't worry Min, I was just as terrible. If I recall during my first month of school I talked about you so incessantly that Ron told me that I should just 'go off and marry you'."

"Well that seems a bit rushed, doesn't it?" Malcolm asked, causing Hermione to laugh fearfully.

"I was—I was only joking!" she squeaked.

"Hermione, ignore him entirely. He's just trying to embarrass you."

"Alas, she tells the truth. I'm sorry dear; I just had to know how well you would stand up to some good old fashioned teasing."

Hermione calmed immediately, and then smirked, "I spend all of my holidays with the Weasely twins, of Weasely Wizard Wheezes. With all due respect, there are very few things which can embarrass me now," she laughed. "Surprise me, certainly. But not embarrass me!"

Malcolm laughed, "Well I certainly approve of you. When I realized she was having a tryst with one of the Golden Trio, I had hoped it would be you. You are by far the most attractive," he winked.

"I don't know," Hermione grinned, "Harry's eyes are rather reminiscent of freshly pickled toads."

Malcolm and Minerva both fell into a fit of laughter. "Well, I've seen what I needed too," He smiled, "You're gonna be just fine Minerva."

She smiled lightly in response, "I think so."

He moved across the room and gave her a half hug, "You know I can't stay," he said quietly, and she nodded in response.

"You never can."

"I just needed to know you were alright. Remember what I said about starting over," he said seriously, and Minerva nodded, "And keep in touch, okay? Write me letters a bit more often?"

Minerva found herself throwing her arms around him, "I'm really glad you came to see me, Malcolm."

He kissed her on the top of the head, "I'm always here if you need me, Min."

He shot Hermione a look, "I'm smarter than to suggest that Minerva needs anyone to take care of her—but you'll be there?" Hermione nodded seriously. "Good. You can write me as well, anytime. Merlin knows you may need help deciphering the enigma which is Minerva Gwendolyn McGonagall!"

She nodded lightly, and with a final glance towards Minerva he transformed back into his owl form, causing Hermione to gasp happily. Minerva opened the window quickly, and after another turn around the room, he zoomed out.

"So that was Malcolm…" Hermione said lightly, shaking her head. "Your biography in Hogwarts, A History didn't do him justice."

"I'm sorry I didn't warn you that he would be here, Malcolm lives by his own rules. I had no idea he was coming until he was tapping on the window."

Hermione glanced towards the window with a concerned expression, "It's fine, really. He seems wonderful, I'm sorry he had to leave so quickly—I hope he didn't feel unwelcome."

Minerva smiled lightly, "Don't worry, he liked you. He just—well he has trouble spending any amount of time in one place, or with one person."

"Even you?"

Minerva nodded, "Me most of all. With the rest of the family gone—and especially after Robert—it's just hard for him. He loves me, and I him. And I know that he would be here in a flash if I ever needed him—but he keeps his distance."

"Well I'm glad I got to meet him," Hermione said, smiling softly. "He reminds me of the twins, or Sirius perhaps." She toyed with her hands nervously, "You really think he liked me?" she whispered unsurely, "And that he isn't upset about us?"

Minerva smiled widely, "I never thought any member of my family could accept that part of me—I mean, we were raised pretty strictly catholic. But he was thrilled for me, and thinks you're perfect for me." She blushed for a moment before quietly saying, "I tend to agree with him."

Hermione beamed, approaching Minerva at the bed. She sat down across from her before saying thoughtfully, "You know—I could very easily see myself falling in love with you Minerva."

Minerva looked into Hermione's eyes, "I feel the same—and that scares me a bit," she whispered honestly.

"Me too," she answered, closing the distance between them and running a hand along her jaw. Hermione had never much believed in the concept of butterflies, not in terms of romance and kisses and such. Yet from the first moment that Hermione's lips had shyly brushed against Minerva's, she had become a believer.

They had kissed before, but as their tongues tangled together in teasing synchronicity, Hermione found she couldn't contain the purring moan she released as her fingertips danced across Minerva's back, pulling her closer. And as she felt the soft feminine curves which pressed against her, she suddenly found herself fully comprehending the true magic which was butterflies.

There you go! Now be patient for another update later in the week!

Thank you so much for reading, and please do continue to review. Every thought you give me adds more to this story, and often times I listen to your suggestions!