Like father, like son

Chapter 17 - The Snake in the Shack

"Let me ask you something, Tom." Emily scrunched up her nose as she watched her friend place a rather big book in his lap and open it. "Did you ever put these down when you were home?"

"Of course I did," the boy said, making room for Abraxas Malfoy, who was hurriedly walking up to them, on the bench where he and the Hufflepuff girl were sitting. "Hello, Abraxas."

"Hi. Wow, what is that for? Potions?" Malfoy pointed to the book as he sat down. "Hello, Emily," he greeted.

"Hey. I still think you should lay off the books for a while, Tom..."

"In case you hadn't yet noticed, we have our OWLs next year," said Tom, raising an eyebrow at his friend, who simply scoffed and rolled her eyes. "I'm simply getting ready for it."

"That's still more than a year before these exams come!"

"I know, and that's why I want to prepare myself now, so that, when the time comes, I won't panic like most of the other students..."

"So, how were the holidays for the two of you?" asked Abraxas, smiling at the other two students as he tried to change the current subject.

"It was all right," answered Emily. "I went home this year and a few friends of Eve visited me on Christmas."

"As always: Little Hangleton," said Tom.

"Got any other visits?"

"No. We don't have many people to invite, Abraxas." Riddle didn't want to say that the only people his relatives trusted to have in their house now, with no fear of someone judging him or his father, were the Campbell couple. Although Malfoy had been a good friend since they actually started to hang out together in their second year, Tom was still rather closed when it come to talking about his family with the other boy. "Small family, remember?"

"I see. Well, I also stayed at home but my grandparents and a few uncles and aunts came to spend the holidays there." Abraxas smiled widely. "My mum loves it when the house is full."

"A whole bunch of Malfoys walking up and down the place," said Emily. "How lovely! And what did you two get on Christmas? Oh, and you, Tom, on your birthday."

"Books, basically," the dark haired boy said quietly. "Father gave me a human anatomy book... It's amazing; you have to see the illustrations in it."

"What would you need an anatomy book for?" asked the Hufflepuff. "You're a wizard, not a doctor."

"It's interesting, simple as that. I don't have to need something to enjoy it."

"Good point. Oh, well, Eve gave me this." The girl raised her hands to the back of her head and fiddled with something there. After a few seconds she drew her hands back, letting her brown hair fall over her face as she showed the boys a metallic hair clip which had a lot of delicate details and inlaid with some kind of green stone. "It belonged to my mother."

"That's really beautiful, Emily," said Abraxas. "Isn't it, Tom?"

"Yes, it is." Riddle smiled, looking at the hair clip and running his fingers over its details. "My father would go mad about trying to draw this."

"Your father draws?" asked Malfoy. "That's awesome! Is he like… a proper artist?"

"It depends on what you call an artist." Tom laughed. "Grandma says he is one and he says he isn't."

"Why? I mean, you told me he draws and paints," said Emmy, laughing quietly. "If that's not an artist, then I don't know what it is."

"He says real artists are born to make art, and that they do everything they can to be in touch with art. He once told me he didn't do it, that he gave up on it in order to please others." The boy gave her a rather sad smile as he remembered the conversation. It had been a long time ago and Tom wasn't even sure if it really happened or if it was just a trick of his memory, but the words of his father had quite the effect on him: I gave it up in order to please others. He had always wondered who he had wanted to please in order to do that. "My grandmother, on the other hand, says that an artist is one who creates art simply because they want to... They don't have to be professional if they love what they're doing."

"I'll go with your grandmother's definition," said Malfoy. "But I still can't believe your father paints, Tom... Did you inherit this art thing too?"

"Definitely not." Riddle laughed. "I think I got my grandfather's lack of artistic inclination. But quit talking about my family... What did you get for Christmas?"

"Oh, yes! You will adore it, Tom. I mean, you love History of Magic... My father found a copy of the whole Slytherin family tree written by Alphonsus Alethea. You know, the historian Binns is in love with because he wrote that book about Helga Hufflepuff."

"The one who died after trying to pet a Ukrainian dragon?" asked Emily.


"And how did your father find it?"

"You see, father knows a lot of people in England. He actually knew Alethea and, after his death, he kept in contact with his daughter. Apparently he managed to buy it from her after some bargaining."

"That's really interesting," Tom said.

"Yes, I can show it to you later, I brought it to Hogwarts because, hey, I know you, Tom Riddle, and I know you would enjoy taking a look at some old and moldy- smelling piece of parchment."

"You're right," said the Hufflepuff girl.

"It's really interesting how the Slytherin family slowly decayed after they started to inbreed," explained Malfoy, looking at his friends. "Its name fell out of use years ago but the last descendent was born in 1907... Funny, isn't it? That a direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin was born just a few years ago."

"What happened to him?" Tom asked, closing his book when he realized that trying to study with Abraxas by his side would not work.

"Her. It was a woman. She disappeared, apparently. Merope Gaunt was her name." Neither Malfoy nor Emmy noticed how their friend went stiff as he heard the Slytherin's descendant's name. Tom's brows furrowed as he recognized the surname and he turned his head to stare at the other Slytherin.

"Oh, yes! Now I remember what I meant to tell you: one of the last descendents of Salazar had your name!" Abraxas exclaimed.

"A descendent of Salazar Slytherin was called Tom?" Emily raised an eyebrow.

"No, Tom's middle name, Marvolo. The man's name was Marvolo Gaunt if I'm not wrong. He was the father of that woman I mentioned, Merope."

Since Abraxas Malfoy had mentioned the Gaunt family as being part of Salazar Slytherin's family tree, Tom had spent a whole lot of time studying the founder's life and family. Indeed, from what he had researched, the Gaunts were the last ones with Slytherin's blood in the magical world, and that wouldn't relevant if it hadn't been for the fact the boy shared his middle name with Marvolo Gaunt and that Tom had already heard the name "Gaunt" coming from many people since he arrived at his father's house: his grandparents, Mrs. Cecilia Ingram, the servants of the house, the villagers... But he had never seen any of Gaunts, even though they seemed to be so popular amongst Little Hangleton's gossips.

The end of his fourth year turned out to be a really disturbed one. Aside from the preparations for the OWLs and his usual exams, Riddle's mind was completely focused on the Gaunt family. The wizard couldn't wait to get back home in order to go after one of them – Marvolo, Morfin or Merope – and to ask his relatives about the mysterious family but, once the term ended and Tom saw himself in Little Hangleton once again, the boy couldn't find the courage to ask such questions or to go after them. Something inside him was trying to hold him back, telling him that the best thing to do was to forget about the Gaunts, enjoy his holidays and go back to Hogwarts, to his homework and projects, to his OWLs... But Tom Riddle knew very well that his curiosity was way stronger than that.

And, cursing that curiosity of his, Riddle found himself standing in front of a decayed wooden fence that was almost completely hidden behind the trees and bushes, and bordered the dirt road that connected Little Hangleton to Hornsea. Apprehensively, the wizard noticed he actually remembered the place from back when he was eleven, when he and his father met an odd looking man there. Back then, Tom was so scared of the stranger and of Tom Riddle Sr.'s reaction upon meeting him that he didn't even think about knowing who he was. It was only now that the possibility of that being the Gaunt everyone talked so much about seemed to appear in his head.

Tom took a deep breath as he entered the property, tucking his hand inside his pocket to feel his wand's handle. He didn't mean to use it, of course, for he didn't want to risk being caught by the Ministry, but he also wasn't stupid enough to walk into a stranger's house without his weapon, even though Riddle was sure that, if magic was needed, he would end up using wandless magic. He was pretty good at it and, knowing how the Ministry worked, he knew that, if he used magic in the presence of another wizard of age, it wouldn't be as noticed by the Trace like it would if he did it in his house, surrounded by Muggles.

The boy grimaced as he looked at a partially decomposed snake that was nailed to the front door of the shack before knocking on it. After receiving no answer, he grabbed the doorknob and turned it. It was no surprise that the door was unlocked.

If Tom had thought the place looked horrible from the outside, the inside of it managed to be even worse. He walked into what seemed to be a kitchen and a living room at the same time, feeling the smell of mold and what seemed to be spoiled food creep up his nose. Riddle wondered when was the last time the place had seen a bit of fresh water and imagined his grandmother standing in there... Mary Riddle would faint, surely.


Tom jumped as he heard a hoarse voice coming from the corner of the room. Turning his head, the wizard saw a short man with dirty, tattered clothes and a dark, tangled head of hair standing there, baring what remained of his yellowed and crooked teeth at him while holding a dark piece of wood. A wand.

"Disgusting Muggle! How dare you to enter my house?!"

"Marvolo Gaunt?" asked Riddle, not noticing how his voice came out sounding more like a hiss than like English.

"Get out, Muggle, get out!" The man brandished his wand and, in response, Tom raised his arm, holding his own wand and pointing it at the other. Gaunt's crossed eyes widened as he stared at it and, then, at the boy's face. "You're a wizard."

"Yes, I am."

"And you look like 'im, the Muggle from the big house."

"Are you Marvolo Gaunt?" the younger wizard demanded once again, watching as the other tilted his head to the side.

"Marvolo is dead. And he has been dead for years now! There's only me left, only Morfin..."

"Morfin Gaunt."

"Yes." Gaunt narrowed his eyes, still staring at his face, before a wide sneer appeared on his face. Tom couldn't help but take a step back when he heard a loud laugh escape from the man's mouth. "You are his son! The Muggle's son! He got 'imself a freak of a son! Served 'im right, the disgusting Muggle!"

"Do not talk about my father like that!"

"I talk about that Muggle the way I want, Mudblood!" shouted Morfin. "I can talk as much as I want about 'im 'cause I know he is nothing but scum! And as for her... I can say for sure she was a whore. A whore who abandoned 'er family to follow the dirty steps of a Muggle! But he abandoned 'er, didn't he? Hm? I knew he would do that... No man right in the head would take 'er for too long. He must 'ave had 'is fun and then abandoned her... Oh, Merope got what she wanted, though, right? She got 'erself taken by a dirty Muggle..."

"Merope?" asked Tom, feeling something odd start to build up inside himself. "Your sister?"

"My bloody sister, yes! That whore who ran away with the Muggle and stole our family. She took it! She took the locket of Salazar Slytherin!" Morfin clawed at his own hair, pulling it as he spit onto the floor. "She took it... Your bloody mother took Morfin's locket." The man looked up to the boy's confused face and, letting go of his hair, laughed. "What? Did he never tell you about her? Stupid Mudblood... Even Morfin can see whose son you are! What? Did you think your magic came from the Muggles? HA! Muggles 'ave no magic of their own to pass down to their kids! You see, Mudblood, you're the son of a dirty blooded man and a traitor whore."

"Shut up..." Riddle whispered, tightening his grip around his wand. "You know nothing about my parents."

"Oh, but I do know! Morfin knows about the Mad Riddle and the Disgusting Merope! Yes, yes... I bet they made a pretty couple while they were together." The man smiled. "Morfin knows more about the Muggle and the whore than you'll ever know, Mudblood. Oh, what are you going to do with that?" The wizard slapped the wand in Tom's hand. "You look like you just entered Hogwarts, you can't make magic here if you want to go back to that dirty school... You know what, Mudblood? Morfin is feeling happy today because he found a new friend on the garden." Gaunt pointed at the wooden table in the center of the room, which had a green snake nailed to it with a sharp knife. "And, because of that, Morfin will let you go."

The man turned around and walked back to the table, sitting on a chair and taking the knife from the snake. Riddle watched as he proceeded to open the animal, rather interested in it.

"What are you still doing here?" asked Morfin, raising his knife, as if ready to throw it at Tom. "I already wasted my time with you, Mudblood! Run back to your Muggle family now and do not put your feet in my house ever again! The last thing I want is your lot in here!"

Tom Riddle knew it was not of his nature to turn tail and leave like that but, at the moment, his head was so full of information and his chest, heavy with emotions, that he actually thanked God he was not a Gryffindor and, therefore, did not need to stand up for the main characteristic of the said house... Because, as soon as Morfin stopped talking, he turned tail and fled.

The event in the house of Gaunt took place a few weeks before the end of his summer break. Since then, Tom Riddle tried as much as possible to avoid his father's presence when he was alone. The boy had no idea if what Morfin said was true or not but he couldn't help but hear his uncle's words echoing inside his head day and night, and, each time they repeated themselves, they sounded truer and truer, making even more sense.

It was normal for Muggles leave their magical partners after they discovered they were witches or wizards, as that was what happened with Emily's parents but Tom had never thought that was his parents' situation. It was true that it took Tom Riddle Sr. six years to find him in the orphanage but the younger Riddle had always believed that his father and mother had left each other due to something else… An argument or the lack of love, those were usual things to happen when it came to couples, right? He was always seeing young witches crying around Hogwarts because their relationships had ended, or young witches who ditched their boyfriends themselves and then celebrated the end of their relationship but, in both cases, it was how things went naturally and he had thought that this was what happened with his parents. It had never occurred to him that his father had abandoned his mother because of the fact she was a witch… Tom Riddle Sr. simply didn't seem to be the kind of person who would do that but now, looking back, it made sense.

His father wasn't as surprised as he expected him to be when Tom told him he could do magic nor when he received his Hogwarts letter. The man had taken it so calmly that it was as if he knew what to expect from his son, as if he had already known about the wizarding world before. Also, it would explain why the older Riddle always managed to run away from a conversation when the subject was his mother… Tom could remember bringing up his mum only three times. The first one was when he was eight and his father was telling him about Greek mythology and constellations, and ended up talking about the Seven Sisters constellation. Younger Tom recognized the name of one of the stars and mentioned that Mrs. Cole had said his mother's name was Merope. His father quickly stopped talking about the Seven Sisters and started to tell him about Cassiopeia. When he talked about his mother for the second time, Tom was eleven and about to go to Hogwarts. The boy simply said he wished to know what his mother would think if she saw him going to that school and he remembered the older Riddle managed to change their conversation to a discussion about the Hogwarts' houses. The last time was actually when he was talking with his grandmother about a few villagers from Little Hangleton and he brought up his mother, asking Mary Riddle if she was from the village. He remembered how his grandmother's eyes widened and how she looked around, as if trying to find someone to help her, before his father appeared, talking about a book he had found in the middle of his belongings and making him forget about his question.

And now his father's efforts to keep his mother out of conversations made sense. Tom Riddle Sr. probably knew how his son would react had he known that Merope was a witch and that he had abandoned her for not tolerating her kind.

And now the boy was trying hard to stay away from his father in order to get his head to work past all this new knowledge, but now it was a rather difficult task when he was staying in London with only the man while he waited for September 1st to come.

"Tom?" The boy looked up from his trunk to see his father standing by the door of his room in the apartment they were staying at in London. "I thought you had already packed, you usually do it early…"

"I'm just organizing my stuff," said Tom, putting his textbooks in the trunk.

"Fifth year… OWLs year, am I right?" asked the man as he sat up on the bed, smiling.

"Yes." He watched as the older Riddle reached out at a copy of the Daily Prophet he had left on his bed. His father had a huge fascination of the moving photographs of the wizarding world, and it was not only once or twice that Tom caught him staring at photos on his books or on the newspaper with a curious look on his face.

"I wish we could do that with our photographs," said Tom Sr., stroking the picture of a witch clad in a Quidditch uniform flying on a broomstick and posing for the camera. "These always remind me of how fascinating magic is."

"That's a nice change of heart since a few years ago," said Tom, not minding if his voice sounded cold or not.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that it's interesting how you came to love magic considering the fact, years ago, you left my mother because of it." The boy looked up at the other who was now staring at him with a confused expression on his face.


"Merope Gaunt, father, my mother. She was a witch and you left her after you found out, didn't you?" asked Riddle in a cool tone. He was trying his best not to lose his composure, but that was becoming quite difficult.

"I didn't…" the man whispered, his face becoming paler with each second that passed.

"You didn't leave her? Then how come she ended up giving me birth in an orphanage and not in a nice house with you by her side?"

"No, I did… I did not…"

"She was a witch, she was a direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin, she was a pureblood, she was your wife and she was pregnant with your child." Tom let an emotionless laugh escape from his lips as he took the Daily Prophet from the man's hand and put it into his trunk. "And you left her with nothing, not even bothering to come after her later…"

"I was…" the Muggle stammered, looking down to his own hands before clasping them together and taking a deep breath. "I didn't…"

"You abandoned her because of her magic, didn't you? You thought she was a freak just like your friend, Cecilia, thought I was one."

"No, Tom, you're not… You're not a freak, I told you this already, I…" His father's voice was low and sounded as if he was scared of what was going on.

"Was it the same thing you said to my mother when she told you she was a witch?" asked the wizard, narrowing his eyes as he saw how the older Riddle cringed. "I've heard so many people at Hogwarts talking about this, about Muggles who abandon witches and wizards when they discover what they are, and I always thought about how lucky I was that my father wasn't like that." Tom laughed. "Why did you take me in then? You knew I would come out like… Like her."

"You're my son, I wouldn't leave you at that orphanage…"

"You did leave me in that orphanage for six years!" the boy shouted, making his father almost jump out of the bed. "I guess that if it wasn't for Mr. and Mrs. Campbell you wouldn't have even moved a finger to find me… Because, oh well, I was Merope Gaunt's son and I would be a freak like her and her father and her brother."

"Morfin. You talked with Morfin! I told you not to…"

"Not to approach his house again because you didn't want me finding out that his sister was my mother!"

"Tom, for God's sake." Riddle Sr. got finally got up and approached his son.

Tom had no idea of where the action came from but before he noticed, his arm was stretched out and his wand was pointed at his father's chest. The man stopped in his tracks and stared at the yew wand with widened eyes while breathing with difficulty. His son could see his hands were shaking badly and how he seemed to struggle with each breath he took but, to the younger Riddle, the only thing that mattered at the moment was that he had finally discovered that his father, the man he looked up to for so long, was actually exactly like his housemates always said Muggles were: scared beings that despised magic because they didn't have it, that looked down upon wizards and witches because they didn't understand the power they had in their hands.

"You can't…" Tom Sr. whispered. "You can't use magic… Outside…"

"Get out of my room." The wizard puffed his chest, in contrast to his father, who seemed to shrink at each word he said, and hardened his grip on his wand. "Leave me alone."

Tom Riddle Sr. didn't say a word; he simply turned around and did as his son ordered. The boy growled quietly at how pathetic the sight of a grown man like his father bending to a teenager's will was. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before looking down to his school material again, telling himself that the best he could do for now was to ignore his father and get on with preparing himself for another year inside the wizarding world.

Tom Riddle could feel his heart beating straight against his chest's wall, just like the way he could feel the way his lungs seemed to refuse to expand at each breath he took. As he entered his room – although he didn't like to call it his room, as it wasn't; his room was back in Little Hangleton, where all of his belongings were and where the smell of paint was present -, the man touched his own forearms, noticing how slick with cold sweat they were, and also felt the numbness that took over his fingertips start to run up to the rest of his trembling hands.

He hated it, hated feeling so vulnerable and appearing to be so weak in front of Tom, but there was nothing he could do to stop his body from reacting like that, and he knew that very well. Tom cursed himself as he hurried to the bed, sitting on its edge and doubling his body over his legs, taking a deep and noisy breath. It had been years since it happened… The last time he felt so bad was the night before he went to see his son at the orphanage, back in the Campbells' house, but it wasn't a reaction as strong as the one he was feeling at the moment. Even when Tom told him he could do "things" or when Professor Dumbledore appeared at their house he didn't feel like that. But now, after seeing his son being so mad at him, talking to him in such an accusing way, his body didn't hesitate to react like that.

Guilt. Yes, that was the reason he was reacting like that. Everything his son had said made sense… He did leave Merope, he didn't move a finger to go after her, and he did leave Tom at that orphanage for years. It was his fault Tom's mother was dead. It was his entire fault… Irresponsible and immature Tom, always doing stupid things and not staying to face the consequences.

Riddle let his body fall onto the mattress and curled up in a ball, trying to find a position that would alleviate the horrible feeling of his guts rolling inside his belly but it didn't matter how he positioned himself on the bed, he could still feel his insides curling up. His heart was still pounding mightily against his chest, his breath was still ragged and he couldn't even feel his hands anymore, although he could feel his body damp with sweat.

'Calm down,' he tried to tell himself but his thoughts were muffled by the sound of his breathing and his heartbeats. 'Calm down, Tom.'

The man couldn't remember for how long he stayed like that, curled in that bed. The only thing he remembered was that the last thing he heard was a clear voice – different than his own which was suffocated by his panic – echoing in his head, telling him to calm down. Unfortunately, the clear and high-pitched voice only served to scare him even more.

A/N: I guess i should say I'm sorry? I'm sorry D: I've been working on this chapter for a long time and I ended up getting all tangled up with the rest of the plot for this story that I didn't even agdasygds I was thinking of the chapters yet to come and forgot about this one, this is what happened. Last semester I used all of my Pharmacology classes as research stuff not only for LFLS but also for my other fanfiction, Kolybelnaya... For LFLS, the information I got from the classes will probably be only a detail in the story but I like to go after stuff in order to not commit any mistake while writing :/ this kinda of slows me down when it comes to writing. Anyway...

Diuvina, Ingrid and Lara, thank you so much for the reviews! Dreiserry, I'm happy to hear you're enjoying the story and I get what you said about being the you're reading fanfiction in English while not in class... I used to do that, reading fanfiction actually helped a whole alwful lot my English :D And V. de Rennes, I can just say I loved your reviews. They are the kind of reviews I love to get (and that at the same time I'm afraid of getting because I get all paranoid about people not enjoying what I write/of my stuff being bad, but this kind of review is great, it helps me to see what can be improved in the story). I wish I could talk about everything you pointed out in your review but here goes just a few (otherwise this A/N would be huge D: ): I loved the way you picture Grindelwald and his ideas, it's really different from what we usually see of him; about the Riddle being White emigre, it's not quite how I pictured it... I have a whole background story for this family that I came up with a long time after I started writing LFLS (reason why it's not well explained in here) that includes Mr. Riddle knowing Russia from travels he took there with his family but no, the Riddles are not russian, they simply love the country (I blame this headcanon on two friends of mine, Ana Strakovinch and Na); you mentioned how TomSr's behavior towards his son developed way too quickly and I agree, I wish I could go back now and write way more about the two of them... Anyway, I don't know if you're still following this story but, if you are, I would love to get more reviews from you. Your reviews made me want to rewrite this fic even more than I wanted before in order to correct what you pointed out, etc... and I'll do it, rewrite this fic, I mean, as soon as I finish to translate/write this version of it, so, your reviews are always welcomed. (:

For what I said about rewriting LFLS... What happened with RR is happening with LFLS but I'll finish LFLS, the only thing is that, from now on, the story will be like a huge... sketch {?} for this new version of LFLS that I'll be writing. Once I start posting this new LFLS, I won't delete this one because, from what I thought about the plot of it, it'll have lots of different stuff from this one... and I like this one, I like to keep the original up (x {I always think people shouln't allow me to re-read my fics, I always end up wanting to change everythin}.

On this chapter: for those saying about how Tom never talked about his mother... I don't know, this is something from my experience, I'm not sure if it happens to everyone, but it was only when I was about Tom's age in this chapter (fifteen) that I started to notice that my family was not as perfect as they seemed to be. My family always worked to keep the image of a nice, good family, and when I was fifteen I discovered some crazy stuff, only when I accepted that "hey, just because it's my family it doesn't mean it's perfect!"... I believe the Riddles worked really hard to keep that image of a nice family, especially after Tom came to their house. They never once talk about how their lives were before he arrived, like on last chapter when Tom discovered about his grandparents knowing Russia only when he was older. Tom Riddle Sr must avoid the subject of Merope Gaunt like mad... He knows how to work with words, how to talk people into our out of stuff, and he used this "ability" of his with younger Tom in order to avoid talking about his mother. I don't know, it's just something that makes sense in my head.. I hope it really does make sense.

Ah, yes, I think I feel the need to say that this story does not follow up withe the information provided by Pottermore... I guess that my take on Abraxas was completely crushed by Chamber of Secrets on Pottermore, so...

Also, on another note that I'm not sure if it's relevant or not, I already informed this to the readers of Kolybelnaya, so... I don't know how my updates will be from now on. Med school is back and, to add to my list of "stuff to keep me from writing", there is the fact I suffered a stupid accident (I passed out and hit my chin on the floor) that caused me to break my jaw and now I'm stuck with a broken and immobilized jaw for 20 days. This means I end up wasting a lot of time taking care of it/traveling from Floripa to Curitiba to go to the doctor/taking X-rays to see how the fracture is/etc, etc... But, if evertything goes according to plan, the silly broken jaw will not keep me too much away from my fanfictions... I hope (also, the pain I still feel is kinda annoying and I get all "aisugdiasds freaking pain, I hate everything bacause of you! *closes the Word and does not want to do anything aside from sleeping*" :/ ).

WELL! Again, I'm sorry for the time I took to update and I hope you all enjoy this chapter, it's one of my favourites... Thank you, Shadow6116, for beta reading it, and Miss RSS, for reading it and giving me your opinion on it. (:

As always, reviews are greatly welcome!