Of Wolves and Ravens
by FenrisWolf
Disclaimer - I don't own anything, J. K. Rowling does - damn it.
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AUTHOR'S NOTE - Part I - Sorry about the long delay between updates, but a bad case of writer's block leavened with a small dose of Real Life has been getting in the way.
This chapter is pretty much pure fluff, as the next one or two are likely to be, depending on how the inspiration strikes me. Speaking of which, there is a bit of smut this time around, nothing too hot and heavy, but enough to kick the rating up a little. Not normally something I write, as I'm not terribly good at it, but the plot bunny insisted…
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Chapter Seven
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Harry looked around at his cleared desk with satisfaction. It had taken a certain amount of Herculean effort, but he had finally cleared the backlog of files and reports waiting for his perusal, and for the fist time in what seemed like months, nothing was lurking in the 'IN' box, waiting to bite him on the arse. Now, if he could just make his escape before anything else happened…
He flinched as a knock came at his door, then visibly relaxed when his secretary entered without anything in her hands. "All set, Chief?" she asked. "Anything else you needed to tell me before you take off?"
Harry thought about it for a moment, and then shook his head. "Can't think of anything, Trixie," he replied. "You already have the instructions I wrote out, so unless something has cropped up that needs my attention…?"
Trixie shook her head firmly. "Nothing has, and I made it clear to the rest of the staff that nothing had better," she said firmly. At Harry's raised eyebrow she giggled. "I told them you needed this break, and if they couldn't handle their jobs for a measly two weeks without you looking over their shoulders, maybe they were in the wrong line of work."
Harry shook his head and chuckled resignedly. One of the few downsides to his fiancée's aggressive work ethic was the way many of her female co-workers had begun modeling their attitudes after her. On the plus side, it had significantly improved the efficiency of the departments where they worked, but it had resulted in some…interesting clashes as witches who had accepted the wizarding world's entrenched chauvinism began asserting themselves. "I'm sure that went across well," he remarked drily.
Trixie flipped her hair in an airy fashion that was very much her own, and then answered in a tone that was eerily like Hermione's, "Well, if they can't handle it, maybe they should be doing something else."
Harry laughed again, holding up his hands. "Pax, pax! So I take it I can leave as planned?"
"Any time you're ready, Chief," she said firmly. "We'll hold down the fort, you go have fun!"
"Thanks, I intend to do just that," he smirked, and with a slight pop Apparated to his home.
~~~~~
The sound of the front door opening and closing pulled him from his efforts in the bedroom. "Finished at last?" he asked at the sight of his tired fiancée collapsed on the couch.
"Finally!" she agreed, doing the unheard of and kicking off her shoes in order to prop her feet up on the coffee table. "I don't know who's fussier about protocol, goblins or Percy. He just had to have the head of each auditing team in to speak to him personally and accept the changeover, and of course they all had to make little speeches accepting the change, which all sounded the same. I thought I'd go mad!"
Harry chuckled and sat down beside her, pulling her legs into his lap and eliciting a moan as he began to massage her feet. "But you're through with them? The changeover is complete and Percy is in charge?"
"Oh…umm…yes, everything's in…oh, gods, don't stop…order, Percy has the auOH!" she cried as he hit a particularly sensitive knot. She continued to make whimpering noises as his hands worked their way up her calves, digging into the pressure points and releasing the tension. As tight as her muscles were, he knew that the tensions of her last days on the job had been getting to her. He looked up and saw her watching his hands; her lower lip caught under her teeth, and grinned. Pausing in his ministrations he rose, laying her legs carefully on the couch. "Roll over," he directed, and she eyed him warily.
"Harry, what do you have on your mind…" she asked.
"Nothing too dodgy, I promise you," he said, smiling, and after a moment searching his face for any sign of his Marauder ancestry cropping up, she sighed and complied.
A moment later she eeped as the couch transfigured under her, raising and flattening itself out into a professional massage table. "Harry, what are you-?" she started, and then gasped as her clothes vanished, replaced by a sheet that was warmed to keep any chill off of her.
"Relax, Mione," Harry directed, his hand summoning a bottle of massage oil from the bedroom. "You're wound tighter than a harpstring, and one of the things we learned in Auror training was physical therapy. Just think of this as the first step in our vacation. You can hardly enjoy our time off if you're wound up in knots." He poured a generous dollop of oil into one palm, and then cupped his other hand over it, feeding a bit of magic into the confined space to warm the liquid. He then spread the heated oil across her shoulders, enjoying the contented sounds she made as his strong fingers worked the knots out of her tense muscles.
Hermione moaned as Harry's thumbs dug into the sensitive pressure points along her shoulder blades, the sharp jolts of pain turning into pleasure as the knotted muscles and nerves relaxed. She felt herself melting as his talented fingers worked their way down to the small of her back, and as the tension drained away she felt the general feeling of exhaustion that had been plaguing her drain away with it, leaving behind it a languorous energy that tingled in the pit of her stomach before beginning to work its way outward.
Her back finished, Harry returned his attentions to her legs, starting once more at her feet and calves, the heated oil allowing him to do a more thorough job. As he worked his way upward he noticed that the moans she was making were changing, becoming less a matter of released pains, and much more a sign of increased pleasure. One particularly long sigh caused him to smile. "I take it you're enjoying this?" he murmured, his hands working their way higher than any respectable masseur was likely to travel.
The sheet was bunched at her waist now, and a glistening layer of oil covered the magnificent perfection of her firm ass. She was almost humming as he kneaded the oil into her cheeks, and then gasped as one of his hands dipped between her legs to cup her nether lips. His fingers, already slick with oil, slid easily into her, delving into the moist heat he found waiting there. His other hand moved forward and cupped one of her breasts, the round globe cradling in his palm as his fingers spread their slickness across her hardened nipple. Her breath hitched, becoming ragged as his wand hand displayed the dexterity that had made Harry Gryffindor's star seeker, stroking and tweaking the nub of her swollen clit. He leaned forward and trailed small bites down the oil-slick column of her neck, adding to her sensory overload. Within moments she arched her back and cried out, her fingers gripping the edge of the massage table as her orgasm tore through her, her vaginal muscles clamping painfully around his fingers as they continued to plunder her center.
When her vision cleared and her pulse steadied, Hermione rolled over on her back and looked up at the smirking face of her fiancé. "Not that I'm objecting," she said, her voice still slightly unsteady, "but what was that all about?" The after shocks of the pleasure he'd just given her were still jangling along her nerves, and she shivered as his jade green eyes wandered over her nakedness, a hungry gleam growing in their depths.
His gaze returned to her face, and his smirk took on a decidedly smug cast as he answered, "You've been really wound up over the last couple of weeks getting everything put together for the changeover, and I couldn't think of a faster way to relieve your…'tensions'…than a good massage."
She quirked an eyebrow at him, one hand reaching out to pull him a bit closer. "That went above and beyond the usual massage, Harry," she pointed out rather needlessly. "Not that I'm complaining, mind you," she added, pulling him close and covering his mouth with hers for a brief but passionate kiss.
When they came up for air Harry discovered his breathing was almost as ragged as his fiancée's. Her eyes fixed on his, a hungry light flickering in their depths. "In fact, there's only one thing wrong with this entire situation," she continued, and he gasped as she leaned forward and nibbled at his earlobe before whispering, "I think you're wearing entirely too many clothes…"
She gave a little shriek as he suddenly scooped her oil-slick body up off the table and turned towards their bedroom. "Brilliant deduction, Miss Granger," he said with a smirk as he deposited her in the center of their bed and then stepped back. Pulling his wand, he pointed it at himself and muttered, "Divestus," leaving himself gloriously naked before her burning gaze. "Now, let me see if I can come up with a reward to equal your brilliance."
He climbed into bed with her, and very shortly his leanly muscled frame was almost as slick with oil as hers. She gasped as his lips wandered over the places his hands had caressed just minutes ago, and her last whispered comment before her rising passion and the feel of his rock-hard cock inside of her drove all coherent thought from her mind was, "Brilliant…"
~~~~~
Several hours later a smug Harry and a tired but smiling Hermione sat across from each other at the kitchen table, each picking at the light meal he'd prepared earlier and kept under preserving charms. Hermione chased a last bit of salad around her plate before asking, "So, are you still not telling me anything about where we're going on our vacation? Aside from the fact that wherever it is, we'll be sharing accommodations with Ron and Luna, not to mention Remus and Narcissa?"
"Nope, I don't want to spoil the surprise; I can promise you that you'll enjoy it, but that's all," Harry replied, his tone firm.
"That's all very well," Hermione answered, her tone becoming slightly acerbic, "but Luna, Narcissa and I need some idea where we're going so we know what clothes to bring." She sniffed at the sight of his somewhat tatty bathrobe. "You boys may be content with two robes and a change of underwear, but we girls actually like dressing appropriately for a given occasion."
Harry put on an affronted expression. "Hey! This robe is a collector's item!"
"Those are your old Quidditch robes, Harry," she said patiently, "and while some of your more ardent fans might squeal at the thought of them, those of us not driven spare by your semi-divine nature can see them as the grotty old things they are."
"'Semi'-divine?" Harry asked, one eyebrow quirked.
"Yes, 'Semi'," Hermione replied with a smug air. "Any chance at convincing me of your true divinity was destroyed by your consistent failure to remember to put the toilet seat down in the loo."
"Argh! Found out at last!" Harry cried out melodramatically. "The Power He Knows Not, improper bathroom etiquette! Poor Tom, if he'd only known…"
Hermione snorted. "Stop trying to change the subject. Are you going to at least give me a hint? Think carefully, your continued status as the Boy Who Lived may depend on your answer…" she finished, only half-joking.
Harry picked up on the underlying tone, and finally realized that she had a valid point. Hermione, Luna and especially Narcissa would not appreciate being put in a situation where they were expected to make do with whatever wardrobe happened to be handy, especially if their surroundings ended up calling for an outfit they owned and had been waiting for an opportunity to wear, only to have said outfit feeding the moths at home because they hadn't known to pack it. And while neither Hermione nor Luna were the clotheshorses that Narcissa was, they both enjoyed getting dressed up on occasion, and would not feel kindly towards being denied the opportunity to do so properly if it occurred.
That being the case, Harry listened to his finely honed survival instincts and came up with an answer. "I'm still not giving away the surprise," he said first, "but I will tell you this much; pack as if you were planning on going on another one of those bed-and-breakfast holidays you like so much, with stopovers in at least one or two major cities where you might go out for dinner and dancing, keeping in mind that it might be in the Wizarding world, or among Muggles. As for the climate…mmm, think of Scotland, or the Isle of Skye in the summer; warm days, cool nights, soft weather."
Hermione's eyes sparkled with interest. "Oh, now you really do have me curious! Are you sure you can't give me any more hints?" she asked, giving him her best lost-little-kitten look.
"Nope, not another word," he said firmly, though it took all his willpower to resist. "You know enough to be prepared, any more would spoil the surprise."
"Hmph. Spoilsport," Hermione grumbled, but Harry could tell her heart wasn't in it. And even if it was, he knew that the surprise would be worth it. And once they were back from their vacation, they could finally get serious about planning that wedding…
~~~~~
Ron looked from perusing the Quidditch section of the Daily Prophet (he still remembered his shock when Harry told him Muggles divided their attention between half a dozen major sports and as many more minor ones; as far as he was concerned, it was just more proof of the absolute superiority of his sport of choice) and smiled as Luna fluttered about their flat, gathering together everything she felt they would need on their vacation. Ron wasn't sure they would need either the mosquito netting or the tiger traps, but whatever made his wife happy was fine by him.
His wife. He, Ronald Bilius Weasley, was married, and to the most brilliant, wonderful girl he could imagine. Much better than he deserved, he knew, but she seemed to fancy him. Well, she always was a bit odd; being madly in love with her didn't blind him to that. Speaking of which… "Hun, I don't think we'll be needing those Nautilus diving helmets," he said when he saw her lifting the gigantic, glass-fronted seashells from the closet.
"You never know, Ronald; we might be staying on the lost continent of Atlantis, and it tends to be a bit damp there this time of year," she replied as she shrank the shells down to pocket size and added them to her pile of loot. "Now, what outfits would you like me to pack?"
Ron looked slightly perplexed. "How should I know? You're the one who talked to Hermione, didn't she give you some idea what you'll need?"
"Yes, Ronald, and all that is already packed and ready to go. I am asking you what outfits you would like me to bring." She was rummaging through the closet as she spoke, and he caught a few of the words she was muttering to herself, "…must ask Narcissa to return that red riding hood and whatever's left of the basket of 'goodies'…"
He finally realized what she was talking about, and a slight frown creased his brow. Ever since that first time in the inn, he'd enjoyed, participated in, and occasionally initiated their forays into role-playing, but lately what he had thought of as an amusing and creative way to add a little spice to their lovemaking seemed to be turning into an obsession for his gorgeous partner. Ron was the first to admit he was no marvel of introspection, but Luna's attitude was starting to worry him. She never seemed to just want to be herself when she was with him, and he was beginning to feel a bit concerned.
He set aside his paper and crossed to where she was standing, her head still buried in the closet, and slipped his arms around her waist. "Oh, good," she said, not turning around, "now that you're here, you can help me choose. Should I pack the Satyr and the Wood Nymph, or would you prefer the Fisherman and the Water Sprite?"
"Neither," Ron said firmly, pulling her away from the closet. "The only costumes I want to see on this trip are those of the Husband and Wife Madly in Love and Desperate to Shag Each Other's Brains Out." He smirked and nuzzled her hair. "Besides, it's the outfit you look best in."
Luna mumbled something in a soft voice, and he caught just enough of it to understand her words. He turned her around by her shoulders and tried to look into her face, but she had her eyes downcast. "Bored?! Bloody hell, Luna, when have I ever said anything to make you think that I was getting bored?" he asked, completely shocked by her words.
She continued to refuse to meet his eyes as she answered in a subdued tone totally out of keeping with her normally upbeat attitude. "It stands to reason, Ronald; I know that I ambushed you and seduced you and stole you away from Hermione, and when you proposed I was very surprised but I was hardly going to let such an opportunity pass even though I knew all along I wasn't what you really wanted-" the patented Lovegood stream of consciousness was brought to a screeching halt when Ron forced her chin up with his hand and covered her lips with his.
When they finally broke the kiss in order to pull in some much needed oxygen, Ron continued to hold his wife's now sparkling gaze. "Now you listen to me, Mrs. Weasley," he said firmly, enjoying the slight shiver that went through his wife's body when he used her new surname, "Yes, you surprised me and bewitched me, and thank Merlin you did!" He grinned at the startled surprise that replaced her usual slightly dreamy expression. "Love, you not only saved me from making a mistake that would only have ended with three people being miserable, you woke me up to the utterly brilliant witch who'd been in front of me all along, only I was too thick to notice. You may confuse me, befuddle me, and in a ruddy wonderful way exhaust me; but one thing you will never do is bore me."
He pulled her close for another kiss, one that was more heated, and in which she was a more willing participant. When they paused again he continued, "Now, then, all this dress-up stuff? I'll admit it's a lot of fun, but that's only because the sexy witch inside the costumes drives me absolutely crazy no matter what she's wearing, and the sexiest thing she wears is when she's wearing nothing at all."
He grinned at her blush, and she finally smiled back at him. "Do you really mean that, Ronald?" she asked, her eyes searching his. "You don't feel any regrets about marrying me?"
"You just leave those costumes right where they are, and I'll spend every minute of our vacation proving just how little I regret anything about our marriage, Love," he said firmly.
"That might be a bit awkward, Ronald," she replied, her tone now back to her usual delightfully matter-of-fact one. "I believe Harry and Hermione are planning on doing some things together, and we will need to stop having sex for a little while each day in order to join them…unless, of course, you think they will want to join us?"
Also as was usual, it took Ron a few seconds to work through his wife's somewhat convoluted thought processes and understand what she was suggesting, but once he did his traitorous Weasley complexion kicked in for its part in displaying his embarrassment. "Uhhhh, no, I don't think either of them are the 'sharing' type," he answered, blushing brightly.
Luna paused for a moment, and then nodded. "I believe that perhaps you're right; that really was quite astute of you." She smiled and slipped her arms around his neck. "You are so handsome and funny, sometimes I forget just how brilliant you are as well."
Well, there was only one way he could respond to a comment like that, and Gryffindor that he was, Ron seized the initiative and scooped his wife up in his arms, and ignoring her token struggles, carried her off to their bedroom, where he proceeded so show his deliciously odd wife all sorts of things at which, he felt he could say without false modesty, he was indeed quite brilliant.
And if the interruption meant that a few things they had intended on packing got left behind, neither of them really gave a good damn.
~~~~~
Narcissa stood in the hallway outside the door to Remus's flat, her magically enhanced 'overnight bag' (with more storage space than a flotilla of steamer trunks, and as heavily packed) slung over one shoulder and paused, taking a moment to inventory her appearance before knocking. The witches' power wardrobe she'd affected as the indomitable Mrs. Lucius Malfoy was a thing of the past, saved for those occasions when it was really necessary, and now she dressed to please herself, and to please the man she loved. It also didn't hurt that after decades of wearing the confining (and, she admitted, absolutely stodgy) wizarding fashions, she was quite enjoying expanding her selections into the world of Muggle fashions.
The severe hairstyle she'd formerly affected had been replaced with something more casual, her long, platinum blonde hair drawn back into a ponytail while a few tendrils framed her face in a soft, fetching manner. Her makeup was simple, a light foundation with a hint of blush and a bit of eyeshadow, enough to enhance her natural beauty without overpowering it. Her slender neck was accentuated by a simple pearl choker, their pale pink color matching the peach of her sleeveless blouse, its brushed silk material tucked into the soft white cotton culottes she wore. Simple but sturdy sandals completed the outfit, their low heels subtly giving her calves an extra bit of definition. As a finishing touch, her toenails had benefited from a pedicure and were lacquered with the same polish as her fingernails, a subtle reminder that, no matter how casually she might be dressed, she was still Narcissa Black, a confident, wealthy and powerful woman.
Her quick knock brought the sounds of someone stirring about in the flat, and a few seconds later the door swung inward. Once again Narcissa felt her heartrate jump just a little at the sight of her lover, and his appreciative expression as his eyes traveled over her figure brought a hint of warmth to her cheeks.
Remus, she noted, was also dressed for their impending vacation in Muggle fashions, and her insistence that he replace his shabby, worn-out garments with decent clothes had definitely paid off. Even in their school days, with his frayed robes and constantly wearied air, he'd been what the gossip brigade had considered a potential 'hottie'; now that he was taking better care of himself, and what was more, feeling more self confidence, he had graduated from promising material to major eye candy. So much so that Narcissa had found it necessary to mention ever so discreetly to a few of her Sisters that no, she didn't believe in 'sharing the wealth'.
Her musings had carried her across Remus's threshold and through the first perfunctory remarks, but feeling his strong arms enveloping her and his firm lips pressed against hers was guaranteed to snap her out of her reverie. "So," she gasped as they both came up for air, "I gather you're as anxious to start this vacation as I am?" She pressed up against him, and felt the pressure of his 'anxiety' against her stomach. "I'd say that was a definite yes," she purred, arching her back a little to let him know she was aware of his interest.
Remus growled low in his throat and nipped lightly at her ear. "What can I say, Narcissa, you bring out the beast in me." His lips trailed down her neck, and her breath caught as he nuzzled the hollow at the base of her throat.
"You say that like it's a-oh, my!-a bad thing," she replied, regretfully pulling away a little as the palm of his hand cupped her breast, causing her nipples to stiffen. "Remus, love, there's nothing I'd like more, but…what's wrong?" she asked as she realized he'd tensed up.
"What did you just call me?" he whispered, his eyes wide.
Narcissa was puzzled by his question and replayed her words in her mind, and then tensed herself as she realized what she'd said. "I'm not sure what you mean," she tried to temporize, but he was having none of it.
"Don't play around, Narcissa, not about this," he said firmly, holding on to her arms so she couldn't pull away. "I know what you said; what I don't know is whether you meant it or not."
Narcissa found herself unable to meet his piercing gaze. "Do you want me to mean it?" she whispered, and realized she was both terrified and thrilled at the idea of hearing his answer. It was a new feeling, one that she wasn't sure she liked, but at the same time wondered how she'd lived so long without feeling it.
"I think, perhaps, that maybe I do," he breathed, and she felt a thrill of pleasure at the amazed happiness that was evident in his voice. "I definitely think it's something we need to talk about. This evening, when we have some time to ourselves?"
"That sounds…good," she agreed, mildly annoyed at herself at how unsteady her voice sounded, but all in all far too happy to give a good goddamn. She moved in and gave him another brief but fierce kiss, and then smiled. "In the meantime, we'd better get over to Harry's and Hermione's before they leave without us." Yes, she definitely was looking forward to this vacation…
~~~~~
Harry returned to the living room where his fiancée and their four friends were waiting, a long, narrow mahogany box in his hands, the size and shape reminiscent of the kind used to house expensive carving sets. "I know you've all been very patient…well, reasonably patient," he amended with a grin as Hermione huffed, "in letting me keep my little surprise. I think I can promise that you won't be disappointed. Now that we're all here I can activate our portkey, and you'll all finally get to see where we're going."
"Is that what you're using as the portkey, that box?" Ron asked with a touch of surprise. He was far more used to the traditional odd bit of rubbish that most wizards used for portkeys.
"Actually, the portkey is inside; it's kept in the box because it functions as much as a passport as it does a portkey." With that he opened the box and lifted out a delicately carved baton of aged ivory, its color the deep buttery yellow that came from centuries of handling. The baton's ferrules were of intricately worked gold, and every square centimeter of the surface of the baton was carved with Celtic interlace, the complicated design worn smooth in places from being handled.
Harry watched with interest the various reactions of his friends upon seeing the baton. Remus looked intrigued, Ron puzzled, and Luna had the same expression of dreamy interest she always had. Hermione looked intently at the object, as if the sight of the baton awoke a fragment of memory she couldn't quite track down. Suddenly she gasped. "That can't be…is that what I think it is?" she said, shocked, but Harry shushed her before she could say more.
"If you think you know, don't spoil the surprise for the others," he admonished her. "We'll be leaving in a couple of minutes anyway, and if you're right, well, you can help me explain things when we get there."
"When we get where, Harry?" Hermione asked, clearly nettled at Harry's indulgence of his urge to be mysterious.
"Just grab your things and I'll show you, Mione; I swore you wouldn't be disappointed, and I meant it. Everyone ready?" At their nods he continued. "All right, just like a regular portkey, everyone touch the baton…Portus!" There was a kaleidoscopic swirl of light, and then the living room was deserted.
~~~~~
The disorientation of the portkey spell quickly passed, and the group of people looked with delighted surprise as their host watched their reactions with pleasure. They were standing between a pair of rough-hewn granite pillars, similar in shape and scale to those that comprised the inner ring at Stonehenge. Unlike the famous structure of Salisbury Plain, these stood on the edge of a stand of verdant forest, and other stones were partially visible among the trees. In the other direction the ground dropped away gradually, only to rise again in the distance into a landscape that was slightly reminiscent of the Scottish highlands where they'd spent so much of their youth. The early morning mist, so common to such terrain, obscured most of the valley floor, and added a blurred, out-of-focus look to the craggy mountains rising on the far side.
"Harry, it's magnificent," Hermione sighed, entranced by the beauty of the surroundings. The morning sun cast a golden light over the entire scene, giving it the air of an Impressionist painting.
"I know, I couldn't believe it the first time I saw it, either," Harry replied, a faraway look on his face. "It still feels like someone's going to come along, tap me on the shoulder and tell me there's been this tremendous mistake."
"Want to fill us mere mortals in on the secret?" Ron asked, feeling a bit miffed at the fragmentary conversation. "I mean, it's pretty and all, but hardly the luxury vacation spot you said we were off to. What are we doing, camping out, Muggle style?"
"Not exactly," Harry said with a smile. Drawing a deep breath, he spoke in a formal tone. "Hermione, Ron, everyone, as the lord of the manor, I bid you welcome to Caer Crochenyddion, the ancestral home of the Potters." As he spoke the formal words, a soft glow rose from the ground upon which they stood and enveloped the rest of the members of the group, causing their skins to tingle. In a few moments the tingling passed and with it the mists that obscured the valley faded away, revealing the imposing castle nestled into the rocks on the far side, its towers and battlements rising out of the trees that cloaked the rolling mountains rimming the valley floor.
~~~~~
AUTHOR'S NOTE - Part II - As promised, some fluff, some fun, a bit of smut, and not much else. Next time, their vacation, everyone gets to have some sex, Remus and Narcissa get to talk, and if I get to it, SUHPFC will play a few games with the members of TICKLE. Thanks for your patience, I hope you stick around for the rest!