The Love Hexagon

A/N: I don't believe in false modesty, so I'l just admit it. This chapter is excellent. It was extremely fun to write, and if it's half as fun to read, I'll be immensely satisfied. Happy reading.

The always forgotten disclaimer: I don't own anything in this story except the plot and two original characters. Oh, and the eventual lack of creativity is all mine, too.

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“I don't understand why we have to read our hate mail. I really don't,” Hermione voiced her complaint to Parvati that Friday, who had just handed her a bag with her column-related correspondence for that week.

“The rules say that we have to in case there are any suggestions,” Parvati answered impatiently.

“Oh, well, here's one,” murmured Hermione, raising her eyebrows in mild alarm. “The girl is suggesting I drop dead... and not exactly using my polite words. And she's never heard of apostrophes or commas. This is deeply insulting.”

“I hope you mean the death wish and not the grammar, because then, I'd suggest you get some vacation.” Hermione laughed, shaking her head. “And I've gotten much worse, so stop the drama,” countered Parvati with a smile, opening one of her own envelopes while Hermione went on to another letter. “A girl has once wrote me that she wishes she could decapitate me, then chop me to pieces, burn me, and feed my ashes to snakes. Anyway, I don't understand why this week I got more than double my usual amount of hate mail.”

Hermione's mouth opened slightly out of utter disbelief. “I too, wonder why you'd get that pile of mail; after all, you only wrote yesterday that the Ravenclaws may be booksmart, but in everything else they're as thick as the walls!” Parvati began to heartily laugh, but Hermione wasn't amused. “These sort of comments bring serious consequences. I am well aware you wrote it because of your strife with your sister, but really... measure your words next time, Patil. Slytherins are even thicker than the walls, but if you offend them, Snape'll see to it that this column gets closed down.”

“Fine... you're no fun, Herms...” muttered Parvati distractedly while she shifted her attention to papers scattered on her desk. “Gossip is such hard work, sometimes I think I deserve to be getting paid for this.”

“That's absurd. Oh, look at this letter... the girl has some sort of split personality,” Hermione told with a hint of fascination in her voice. “She starts the letter nicely, telling me she thinks I'm a very nice girl, very intelligent, and that she knows I'm only an assistant but... she wishes she could pluck my eyes out and play golf with them.” She slowly lowered the letter. “She needs help, Parvati. Medical intervention.”

Parvati laughed, but didn't take her eyes off her papers. “I don't understand why you get that much mail, either. You are just an assistant, and it says so in the bottom lines.”

“I think the headline, which is always something that makes anyone want to mortally jinx the author of the article, grabs all the attention to itself.” Realizing she only had about 15 minutes more until Transfiguration began, she grabbed her books and began to walk out when David poked his head into the room from behind the door. “Oh. Hello.”

“Hermione, I need to talk to you, and it's urgent.” She invited him to come in, and watched puzzled, as he walked to the farthest, most recluse corner of the room. “No one can hear,” he explained in a low voice when Hermione approached him. “It's about the next Hogsmeade weekend. You know how it's only a short while from today?” She nodded, and had to reign in her imagination when it began to drift into Harry-related thoughts, wondering with excitement what they'd do and where they would go to once in the village. “I need your help to get a date.” Her eyes snapped from the wall behind him to stare at him with surprise.

“You're joking.”

“I'm serious, I swear,” he assured solemnly.

“You don't need any help to get dates, you have a fanclub in Hogwarts.”

“The girl I want is not in the fanclub, I think.”

Hermione bit her lip. It was really just like David to want the very girls who didn't want him at all. “What would you have me do? Speak to her about your interest? Find out if she reciprocates your fancying?”

“Yes, more or less. Talk to her, if you can.”

Hoping the object of his interest wasn't someone from Slytherin or Ravenclaw, among whom she wasn't at all popular nowadays, she replied, “all right. Who's the subject?”

“Parvati Patil.”

Hermione's eyebrows shot up in her forehead with shock. Parvati? The girl had practically founded the fanclub, what was he talking about? Recovering, she remarked dryly, “that explains why we're hiding here among the spiderwebs.”

“Yeah, didn't want her to hear.” David eagerly glanced at the subject of their conversation, and Hermione felt tempted to do the same, but feared Parvati would detect their staring. “So, will you do it?”

“I have no idea what I could help you on. She's told me she finds you one of the most attractive males in the school. She wouldn't need any convincing. Far from it.”

“I'll practice it with you, then. You know, asking her out.”

“That's ridiculous. You're thought by everyone to be Casanova himself and now you're actually nervous to ask out one of your most ardent fans? If you can't get a date with Parvati Patil, no other boy in the world can hope he'll get a date with any girl.” Before he could argue, she continued. “I'll practice with you, but this is absurd.”

She led the way out into the hall, far from Parvati's earshot (which Hermione trusted could reach miles), and David said, “pretend to be Parvati, so I know what to expect.”

“Expect someone shrill and giggly. I can't even begin to act like that, so just try out your method.”

“Fine. Okay... let me think...”

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Harry had been planning on surprising Hermione. Walk her to their next class, even maybe sneak off into a deserted corner for some... talking. Smiling giddily, he excitedly climbed up the stairs that led to the gossip column tower, and was surprised to hear Hermione's laugh echoing in the narrow hall, followed by her words, “be serious, David, just get on with it.”

“Fine... I'll be serious.” There was a small pause, and, intrigued, Harry paused his ascent, even though he knew he was quite close to them. “I was wondering if... if you'd want to go with me as my date to the next Hogsmeade weekend. You know, just the two of us. I've been wanting to ask you for ages, but now I 've really plucked the courage. What do you say?”

Harry couldn't believe the boy's nerve. He had felt they could be friends, for David had seemed to give up on Hermione (about time, he had thought) but now he could see it had been his imagination all along. Angrily, he began to trot his way up to where they were, bent on protecting Hermione if David didn't like her no.

And then... “I thought you'd never ask! I've been in your fanclub for such a long time...” They broke out laughing. It took a few momentos for Harry to let out the breath that had become stuck in his throat. Numbly, shakingly, Harry sprinted down the stairs.

He arrived at the Common Room without knowing how. He had meant to go somewhere else, somewhere he couldn't remember... his mind was in turbulence, no coherent thoughts were being formed. Throwing himself into one of the couches, he forced his thoughts to become orderly, although he could feel jealousy eating his insides. Why would she accept going with that idiot to Hogsmeade? Why would she accept him, if she was his? Maybe she didn't actually like him...

Harry stood up brusquely, but sat down after a few seconds. Should he go talk to Hermione, ask what came over her? Or should he—or his fists, for that matter—go directly to David? Standing up again, he was turning to ascend the staircase to his dormitory when he encountered a puzzled Ginny.

“Hello there, Harry,” she greeted, but he wasn't in the mood to be courteous, and remained silent. “I just wanted to ask you if you know when the next Hogsmeade weekend is going to be.”

Distracted, Harry struggled to focus on Ginny and her words. “What's going to be? What are you talking about?”

“Hogsmeade weekend. Are you paying attention?” He nodded, though his mind was on Hermione's laugh and David's invitation, and not at all on the Weasley girl. “Anyway, some people are saying it's two weeks from now, others are saying there's going to be no free weekend at all. I don't know why I'm caring anyway, I wouldn't have a date to go with, but that's beside the point, because anyone would prefer—“

“What?” Harry's thoughts had stuck on her last phrase. “You don't have anyone to go with?”

“No, actually,” she answered, growing noticeably more nervous. Harry calmed slightly as the idea of revenge settled into him and managed to take hold of his mind. It'd be perfect, wouldn't it? Hermione going through the same inner turmoil he had passed when he saw her accept someone else... of course, if she didn't care at all if he went with someone else that'd be... forget it, Harry, think about something else, he told himself. And who else would he go with anyway, if Hermione was taken? The only other girl he could have a date with was Ginny.

“Would you go with me, then?” He couldn't believe he was actually doing this... his stomach began to curl, and he felt feverish in his entirety. Part of him wanted to take back what he had inquired of Ginny, another part, smaller but more powerful at the moment, wanted to carry out his plan for vengeance.

“Of course!” she exclaimed, and Harry winced, swallowing hard. “But can we double date?”

“Yeah, but... double date? With whom?”

“With—oh, here she comes!” she cried out, and ran to... Oh... by Merlin... Harry couldn't believe it. “Hermione, you'll never guess who just asked me out on a date to Hogsmeade. By the way, do you have a date for Hogsmeade?”

“No, I don't,” Hermione was peering worriedly at Harry, and he guessed he looked just as sick as he felt inside. “Who asked you?” she inquired distractedly, throwing looks at Harry which he knew were meant to call him to a corner for a talk, but he ignored them.

Then it sunk in—did she say she didn't have a date? But—but he had heard them! Almost seen them! What if he had been mistaken? What if he had misunderstood? What if the voice wasn't hers?

“You're not going to guess?” Ginny anxiously asked, absolutely beaming. Panic made Harry move quickly towards Hermione, and he stood between Ginny and her.

“Ginny, listen, I don't think it's a good idea... I, uh—it's not—I don't think—“ he rambled, but Hermione gently pushed him aside, her right eyebrow high on her forehead. Ron chose that time to approach them, after a talk with Seamus about, if Harry wasn't mistaken, Quidditch.

“Fine, I'll just tell her, no more suspense.” It took two more seconds for Ginny to take a deep breath and continue. They were the longest two seconds of his life. “Harry.”

“What about him?” Hermione asked glancing his way, not catching on Ginny's meaning. Harry's stomach was in complete havoc. How in the world had he been so thick?

“What about who?” Ron asked, his gaze traveling from Harry to Hermione to Ginny.

“He asked me!”

Hermione blinked twice. “What?”

“Someone asked you out?” an alarmed Ron asked.

Ginny, if possible, became even more excited. “Harry asked me out. Are you listening at all?”

Ron almost choked on air. “Harry! Harry asked you?”

“I'm... it's...” Hesitating, she sat down very slowly on an adjacent couch, still not looking at him. “I see.” All Harry's muscles were frozen. He could swear he wasn't even breathing, and the silence he was hearing made a high pitched sound in his ears.

“And,” Ginny said with emphasis, plopping down beside Hermione, “we'd like you to double-date with us!” she complemented, eyeing Ron and Hermione suggestively.

Hermione's head snapped up. “Excuse me?” Noticing Ginny's darting look, she added, “me and Ron?” Harry could've punched Ron in the face for the amount of happiness he was exhibiting.

“Yes, unless you'd like to go with someone else.” For the first time, Hermione turned to look at him. Their gazes met. Harry's heart missed a beat.

“No, I'll go with Ron. It's fine.” Retrieving her stare from Harry's burning face, she sighed. “But why can't you double-date with someone else?”

“Well, I just thought it was about time you got a date,” Ginny told sympathetically, and Harry, who was attempting to sit down without hurting his rigid body, stopped in mid-movement. “You should get a boyfriend.”

Silence.

“Thank you for your concern; it flatters me.” She stood up and resolutely began to walk towards the Girls' Dormitory. Harry dashed to her side, having previously seen Ginny flutter to another circle of girls, probably to share the news.

“Hermione, wait a second,” Harry half-pleaded, managing to stop her. Turning, she remained silent, and he felt queasier under her steady gaze. “It was a misunderstanding,” he whispered though there were no students nearby to hear them.

“Really. How was that?” she seemed interested, but her tone was cold and actually very uninviting to any explanation.

“I thought you were going with someone else.” Hermione didn't buy it, he guessed after noticing her lack of reaction. She turned to climb the stairs, and Harry became breathless with desperation. “No, Hermione, I mean it, I didn't know, I thought he was asking you, now I see maybe I'm wrong, maybe it wasn't you, but—will you look at me!—it sounded like you, and...” he ran out of air, but was relieved that Hermione had at least given up her attempt to ignore him. “I heard you accepting David's invitation to a date in Hogsmeade.” Her chin dropped. Harry didn't know what that was supposed to mean. “I, uh... I'm sorry.” Maybe she was shocked because she thought he was lying! “I'm not lying. I wouldn't lie to you.” Maybe she was shocked because she thought he asked Ginny out because he liked the redhead and not her. Desperation lorded over his brain, to the point he no longer had any control over his words. “I don't like Ginny. I only like you, I'm serious, I'm not lying, I'm really, really in love with you.” He should have felt embarassed, he knew. And maybe he would've burned with shame, hadn't Hermione's lips curved into a spectacular smile that rendered him jelly-like.

“Harry, I know what happened. It was a misundertanding—David was practicing asking a girl out using me—and I know you wouldn't lie to me. I guess I thought for a moment you didn't like me anymore.” She embraced him and placed a quick, soft kiss on his partially open lips. Then, lowering her voice, she said, “I like you too much to not panic seeing you with another girl, even if I'm not the jealous type.” Breathless and immobile like a statue, Harry could only manage to stare at Hermione. “I am in love with you. And it's huge.”

If his smile widened any more, Harry knew, his face would probably be stuck that way. “You are? How huge is it?”

Laughing, and blushing a lovable shade of pink, Hermione replied, “enormous.”

“Too big?”

“No. You deserve it.”

His eyes widened a bit, and his grin widened exponentially. “You know... right now I could cast the world's best Patronus.”

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“Ouch!” Hermione was thrown backwards with a grunt while she heard a feminine voice complain in pain. “Watch where you're going, will you?” She had just bumped into the infuriating Natasha Krum while she had been almost jogging to her next class. Parchments were raining down upon the two disgruntled girls and they hastily got off the ground and picked up their sprawled school materials.

“Aren't you supposed to have Transfiguration next with me?” Hermione said accusingly, and the girl grunted. Only a few rays of sunshine were visible in the horizon as night approached them. She could tell it was going to rain later. It was the last lesson for the day and Parvati had kept her busier than usual during the afternoon with their column, and there had been the whole misundertanding with Harry... which had culminated with the happiest moment of her life, but she forced her mind to stay far from any Harry-related thoughts, lest she blush horrendously and be tempted to skive off class to be with him.

“Yes, and?”

“And that normally would mean we'd be going on the same direction,” she informed bitterly; grimacing when she noticed her inkpot had been smashed to bits due to the fall.

“Yeah, well, I was going to Transfiguration but I had to turn back for reasons that are none of your business.”

“You should've waited to see if I was going to ask why you turned back, just to check if I'm actually interested in your reasons. You'd find that I'm not,” Hermione said coolly without missing a beat. The two girls halted their present tasks and spared a second for glaring each other in the eye before simultaneously resuming their picking up.

“I really fail to see what Viktor sees in you,” the girl mumbled. “He told me he thinks we're alike. That's hardly a compliment.” Hermione chose to remain silent after noticing that they were already 5 minutes late and their papers and books had been placed back where they belonged. Wordlessly, the girls headed in different directions.

“Ms. Granger, you are late,” Professor McGonagall pointed out with asperity when Hermione emerged through the doors to the classroom. There were a few gasps, and Hermione contained a groan. If that blasted Natasha Krum hadn't bumped into her she would have made it just in time.

“I'm very, very sorry, professor. A minor mishap kept me,” Hermione apologized, pursing her lips when she noticed that everyone had been partnered up and there was no one left to be her partner. Unless…

“Sorry, sorry!” Natasha apologized, bursting in with her cheeks flushed and her hair not quite as perfect as it usually was. “Sorry I'm late.”

“She's the mishap I speak of,” Hermione said under her breath, and Natasha turned to look at her, puzzled after noticing the way the class had been organized.

“You two have interrupted my class and kept it long enough,” the professor said harshly, and both girls winced. “You two will be partners for this assignment, which will be graded. Instructions on the board,” she continued curtly, and Hermione reluctantly sat down on the nearest seat, casting longing glances at Harry, who looked genuinely disappointed to be apart from her. As far as Hermione was concerned, this year she had been partnered with Harry for the large majority of their assignments, and she had absolutely no objection to that. Once again her thoughts wandered to Harry, and her stomach performed a flip-flop movement. He was in love with her. He was in love with her. She kept repeating it inside her brain, and still couldn't quite believe it, nor settle her happiness.

Of course, there was the fact she was going on a date with Ron next Hogsmeade weekend, and she knew she would have to accidentally-on-purpose forget her wand in Hogwarts in order to not act on the jealousy bouts she knew she'd have once Ginny started to fawn over Harry like she always did. But as long as she and Harry were fine, she was fine.

The girls started to open their books and Hermione heard a sigh being let out by Natasha.

“Lord, how lucky of us to be partners,” she complained sarcastically, and Hermione grunted a response. “Are you any good at Transfiguration?” Hermione felt slightly offended. She was the best Transfiguration student in the entire school (with the best grades any student had ever earned in more than a century) and this girl didn't know it.

“I manage,” she answered casually, mentally laughing. “You?”

“I manage,” the girl answered simply, turning to look at the board. Hermione started to read the instructions and was mildly surprised. They were going to transfigurate human body parts. Theirs, to be more precise. Finally something worth studying, she thought with satisfaction. She remembered how many times in the past she had wished she could transfigurate herself in order to help Harry, and just how frustrated she had been with the fact they hadn't studied it yet. Now, they were going to study the very basics of human transfiguration; you had to concentrate on a part of your body and transfigurate it into the body part of someone else. It was recommended that both students choose the same part, for reasons that Hermione couldn't imagine.

“Okay, so we have to choose a body part to trade, more or less…” Natasha said cheerfully, scanning Hermione's body with criticism while they both placed their wands on the desk. Hermione thanked the heavens that she had nothing to be embarrassed about. “Let me see… how about our legs?”

“No, thank you…” Hermione said, widely aware that she had legs slightly longer and less curvy than Natasha's.

“We could transfigurate our hands,” Natasha suggested, and Hermione shook her head.

“No, we couldn't. We have to be in the exact same position to transfigurate, right?”

“Yes… and?”

“And you're left-handed. I hold my wand in my right hand. You'd be holding it in your left, so it wouldn't work,” Hermione explained patiently.

“Fine… feet then,” Natasha said, and she nodded. “Let's start reading.” They turned to their books to read the necessary information before performing the spell, with Hermione simultaneously scribbling down very detailed notes on their reading. She checked the time and decided they'd need at least twenty minutes to perform their assignment.

“Understood everything?” Hermione asked, and the girl confirmed.

“I think so. All we have to do is concentrate on one another and say the words, right?”

“That's a very large simplification, but yes. That's all.” Taking one last look at the book, Hermione picked up her wand and aimed at Natasha's right foot, while the girl did the same. “Commuto mutatio pedis!” They said at the same time, but nothing happened. “I think we should try it again. Concentrate harder.” She glanced at where Ron and Harry were standing. They had just managed to exchange their hands, and were struggling to change them back. “Let's try again,” she said, and Natasha, apparently used to taking longer than usual to perform a spell correctly, aimed her wand. “Okay… on three. One… two… three. Commuto mutatio pedis!” This time, Hermione felt as something slammed hard into her body, and she took a step back, breathless and in pain. She felt a very strong headache immediately start to take hold of her senses, and she dropped her wand onto the table beside Natasha's wand, clutching her temples.

“Ow…” she heard Natasha grumble, and looked up to see that she, too, was in pain.

“Are you seriously hurt?” Hermione inquired with concern, bending to help Natasha straighten up. Several other students had been either thrown to the ground or suspended in midair (Hermione had no idea how they had accomplished that last feat).

“I've got a headache…” Hermione heard her complain, when she felt her foot start throbbing from the pressure inside her shoes. She sighed with relief.

“It worked! Finally!” Natasha celebrated loudly, embracing Hermione in a hug Hermione found rather unnecessary. They weren't even on speaking terms to begin with, she thought amusedly.

“Now all we have to do is change back, and we'll get our O's,” she said, picking up her wand from the table and aiming. “Ready?”

“More than ready. Desperate.” They aimed their wands, and firmly cast the counterspell. This time they were thrown across the room, each landing on opposite sides of the classroom. A recovering Hermione coughed, waving her hands in front of her in order to clear up the dust. Harry and Ron immediately rushed to her side, helping her get up. Her ribs were complaining by sending her sharp bouts of pain on her abdomen.

“What'd you do, Krum? Said the wrong spell, did you?” Ron accused scathingly, while professor McGonagall approached them with worry and impatience.

“What makes you think I said the wrong spell?” she protested, glaring at Hermione, who was currently very distracted by Harry's hands on her backwhile picking up a wand on the ground beside her that looked a lot like Natasha's.

“Hermione's never wrong!” he retorted, and Hermione couldn't help blushing, while simultaneously wishing with all of her heart that Harry didn't feel any jealousy from this remark.

“Mr. Weasley, Ms. Krum, I don't want to hear another word from the two of you or it's detention this evening,” McGonagall snapped harshly, successfully shutting up both students, who were reduced to glaring and hissing at each other. The professor made sure the girls were both fine, and Natasha moodily walked to their table with a pained Hermione behind her. Her ribs still weren't completely healed and seemed to be screaming with pain as she walked.

“Here's your wand,” Natasha said grudgingly, throwing a wand her way. “It flew all the way there,” she pointed to where she had landed. Hermione silently handed the girl the wand she had found. “Take your wand and shove it up where the sun don't shine, will you?” Hermione's chin dropped in shock at the girl's words and she was about to answer something equally nasty when their teacher approached them.

“I trust you were able to complete the assignment?” McGonagall inquired of them, and both Hermione and Natasha looked down to examine their feet.

“Yes, we were,” Hermione answered gladly after checking that her foot was back to its appropriate place. “What grade did we earn?”

“The rightful grade, Ms Granger,” the professor replied, and Hermione smiled. She never got any grades below E, much less in Transfiguration, and by the professor's tone, she could tell that her words meant another O to her grades. She cheerfully watched the professor trod away from them with satisfaction as she dispensed her students and they started to pack their belongings.

As soon as she sat up, however, she felt something jab at her head, driving her breathlessly back onto her chair. She heard Natasha moan and saw that the girl, too, was feeling pain in the same place.

“This spell definitely has its side effects,” Hermione murmured under her breath, feeling as though her skull was about to be split in two. Natasha, rubbing her eyes, hurriedly left the class when she saw Ron and Harry nearing them.

“Hermione, you all right?” Ron asked her with concern. She saw Harry visibly debating in his mind whether to help her more thoroughly without betraying their emotional proximity. They were exiting the classroom when Hermione answered Ron's question.

“I'm fine, thank you. But I have a very bad headache.” Harry immediately stopped in front of her and cupped her chin, raising and turning her head to the sides while examining her face.

“You're all right, though? Not hurting seriously or anything like that, right?”

“Harry, I'm fine,” she managed to say coldly rather than melt into a puddle of glee when he touched her, which would be her natural reaction. Despite the increasing intensity of her headache, his touch managed to make her forget the pain entirely and she had to try very hard not to be sucked into those marvelous green pools that were his eyes.

“Okay, I'm just making sure,” Harry said, taking a step back with alarm after her words. Telling herself she'd tone down the snappishness next time, she accompanied them to the Common Room, but with each step, her headache worsened so much that by the time they reached the Portrait Hole, Hermione noticed she wasn't feeling her own body. Sitting down with difficulty on her bed in the dormitory, she couldn't even manage to raise her hand. Commanding her hand to slap her face (she was convinced she was having a nightmare), she was horrified to see that it didn't move an inch. Her skull was throbbing more and more, and she felt herself fall completely onto the bed before unconsciouness took hold of her and dragged her into darkness.

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“Hey, Natasha… hey there,” she heard someone say, bringing her from her sleep and into reality. She was starting to hate it when Parvati woke her up by calling her something she hated. The day before it had been “book-head”, which annoyed Hermione more than offended her. Before that, she had been called “Encyclo-Mione”, which she considered completely outrageous.

“No need to keep calling me that. I'm already awake,” she assured, yawning before finally opening her eyes. The first thing she noticed was that she didn't have a window at the foot of her bed. There was supposed to be a window there, she thought distractedly, because she then noticed that her bed was not next to a wall at all. It was much like the boy's dormitories in Gryffindor tower, and that shocked her because it was then that she remembered passing out in headache. Her head had felt as though it was going to crack open, and she had fallen… only to wake up in a room so green everywhere Hermione was sure she was either suddenly color-blind and was seeing green where she should have been seeing red, or Parvati had become a Slytherin lover and had redecorated the room. Slightly alarmed and surprised, she stood up, not paying too much attention to her dizziness or the fact that she seemed to be viewing things as though she was slightly shorter.

“Parvati… listen, I don't remember what happened yesterday, but I really doubt you should have done this with our…” she trailed off entirely when a girl who had her back to Hermione turned to the sound of her voice. It was Pansy Parkinson.

“You know what I think you should do? Stop drinking so much butterbeer, Natasha,” the girl sagely recommended, but Hermione's brain seemed to have stopped working, as well as her heart and mouth and throat… all of her body, essentially. That was because she had just looked at a nearby mirror and realized that she did not look like herself. Not even remotely. She looked like Natasha Krum—exactly like Natasha Krum.

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A/N: Yep, this will change everything. This change will affect every single relationship between our main characters, so read on. Thanks for the reviews and till the next chapter.