The soft, pale light of early morning filtered through the heavy curtains of Harry's bedroom at Hogwarts. The room mimicked the environment from outside, and a gentle breeze from the fake window carried the scent of dew-kissed grass from the fresh morning into the room, stirring the air just enough to ruffle Narcissa's silken blonde hair as she slept. Her head rested on Harry's chest; her breath warm against his skin.
Harry's arm was draped protectively around her as he held her to himself, and his hold tightened instinctively as he began to wake. The warmth of her body against his was familiar and comforting, and he found himself smiling before he even opened his eyes.
Narcissa stirred first, her eyelids fluttering as the delicate light touched her face. Her hand absently traced light circles across his bare chest, the touch both soothing and irresistible. She felt the steady beat of his heart beneath her fingers and smiled, feeling the undeniable comfort of waking in his arms.
Harry's hand lazily moved to her back, trailing slowly along her spine, and she shifted closer, her leg slipping between his, entwining them further under the blankets. He murmured her name, his voice husky with sleep, and his lips found her forehead in a soft, lingering kiss.
"Morning already?" Narcissa's voice was a low whisper, tinged with the warmth that conveyed how unwilling she was to leave the softness of his bed.
"Not if we don't want it to be," Harry replied softly, his hand slipping into her hair. His fingers tangled in the soft tresses as he pulled her even closer.
She chuckled softly, the sound low and melodic, before tilting her head up, her lips brushing lightly against his neck. Her touch, delicate yet deliberate, sent a warm shiver through Harry, his body responding instinctively as she trailed gentle kisses up his jawline.
He shifted, rolling onto his side so they faced each other. He pulled her flush against himself, his hand sliding down to rest at the curve of her rear. Their eyes met, and for a long moment, neither spoke. They were both content to stare at each other, basking in an intimacy that was shared in the unspoken connection of lovers that they had become in such a short period.
Narcissa's fingers lazily traced the tattoo on his chest – the symbol that she recognized as the one of the legendary hallows that were said to belong to the Peverells. She paused as she was struck with the same thought once again, of the connection, and whether those artifacts truly even existed, but she pushed those thoughts away, pressing a soft kiss to the tattoo, almost as if she was paying homage to those legendary creations. There was a quiet reverence in the gesture.
Harry's hand cupped her cheek, guiding her lips back to his. The kiss started slow and tender, but the familiar spark between them quickly ignited. The couple deepened their embrace, their bodies pressing closer as they eliminated whatever space had remained between them. The familiar relaxed heat started building between them in the early morning haze as they kissed passionately.
When they finally pulled back, slightly breathless, Narcissa's blue eyes sparkled mischievously. "You're insatiable in the mornings," she teased, her hand still tracing lazy patterns on his chest. Her touch did nothing but further stoked the fire between them.
"And you love it," Harry replied, his voice thick with affection and something deeper. Something more… primal. Narcissa easily recognized it as his desire, and the voice sent a flutter through her core that still tingled from their passionate lovemaking from the night before.
She laughed again – a melodic sound that made his smile widen. With one swift motion, she shifted, sliding her leg over his hips, straddling him effortlessly. Her fingers trailed through his messy hair, smoothing it down only for it to spring back up again.
"I do," she admitted, her voice warm and full of craving. "But we do need to get up eventually, you know."
"Eventually," Harry agreed, his hands finding her hips, holding her as if he had no intention of letting her go anytime soon. "But for now..."
He trailed off, capturing her lips again in a slow, deliberate kiss.
The world outside could wait a little longer. In this moment, it was just the two of them, wrapped in the warmth of each other's embrace, lost in the early hours of love shared in the quiet intimacy of their morning.
It was over two hours later when they emerged from the room. Two hours that encompassed their passionate lovemaking in the bed that continued under the shower. Time had lost its meaning entirely as they lost themselves in one another, lust and passion overtaking them, and it was only fortune that they had woken up earlier than usual that enabled them to join the others for breakfast.
They did ensure they arrived separately, not wanting to give away anything to their colleagues. However, judging by the look that Dumbledore gave him on his way out, Harry felt that the aged headmaster did have an inkling of what was going on. He did not say anything though, and Harry was happy for things to remain that way, not wanting to discuss his relationships with the old man, not that he had any right to interject or have a say in them.
As he looked around, he saw that only Filius, Madam Pomfrey, and Tima were at the breakfast table, the others having eaten and left already. Greeting everyone, he took his seat and quickly started on his breakfast.
-Break-
Septima Vector sat at the table reserved for professors, nursing a lukewarm cup of tea and watching the swirling steam with absent-minded detachment. Her thoughts, however, were far from the warmth of her drink. Across the table sat the man she found herself falling for, only to discover that he was involved with several other women and quite likely had no plans to be exclusive with one witch.
She had decided to slowly pull herself back from him, knowing that separating herself at this stage would be the best. Alas, her gaze drifted toward him, unintentionally, as though drawn by an invisible force she could not resist. His easy smile, the way he spoke with quiet authority, his sheer brilliance—all of it made her pulse quicken. She quickly looked away, biting her lip.
'What am I doing?' she thought, feeling a swell of discomfort. Narcissa's words echoed in her mind, unsettling her further.
Harry, seated comfortably next to Narcissa, engaged in light conversation with Madam Pomfrey about his upcoming trip to France. However, his emphasis was on his dear lover and how he wanted her to accompany him to the tournament. The old woman was not born yesterday, and she could see what truly motivated Harry to ask this of her. However, she saw no reason to decline, both from a personal and professional viewpoint. She wanted Narcissa to both be capable and happy, and this trip would contribute to both. It was an easy decision to make.
Harry smiled at the woman when she nodded and glanced toward Narcissa who smiled sweetly at him. Smiling back, he resumed his breakfast, keeping a keen eye on a certain brunette.
He could not miss them even if he tried. Septima seemed to take frequent, almost tentative glances toward him. That wouldn't have surprised him much, for this was not the first time he had felt eyes on himself. However, the look in her eyes was new.
She'd never looked at him like that before—there was a certain vulnerability, perhaps confusion, in her eyes that had emerged this morning. He didn't know what to make of it, but something about her gaze pulled at him. He smiled warmly in her direction, acknowledging her presence, and making her blink. When she quickly averted her eyes with a frown on her face and her lips pursed, his brow furrowed slightly.
Something was seriously going on with her, and he had no clue what it was. He thought about asking her but threw that idea out of the window immediately. If there was something, he believed she would tell him without asking.
"So… tomorrow is the day, eh Harry?"
Harry turned to Flitwick and nodded, "Yes, Filius. The portkey leaves in the evening."
"A shame with Carrow though. I didn't expect he would pull back," the half-goblin said disapprovingly.
"There's no need to worry, Filius," Harry smiled, glancing at Narcissa whose lips quirked. "I believe I'll be in even better hands with Miss Black accompanying me."
"Oh, you certainly will be," Madam Pomfrey added with a proud nod. "Taking Narcissa with you as your personal healer is a wise decision. She's been training diligently."
Pomfrey's tone was light, but there was no mistaking the approval in her voice. "I've no doubts that her practical experience will serve her well, and this is just the kind of opportunity she needs."
Narcissa sat beside Harry, her poise as elegant as ever, but her lips curled into a small, satisfied smile at the praise. "It's an honor to accompany our country's representative for the Circuit," she said softly, her voice rich with warmth and confidence. "Madam Pomfrey has been more than generous with her training, and I'm excited to gain experience in the field."
She glanced briefly toward Septima, noting the way the woman's hand trembled slightly as she set down her cup. Narcissa's smile deepened, though there was no malice in it—only understanding.
'I wonder how long it will take her to come to terms with this, and how long to do something about it.'
Harry, oblivious to the tension simmering beneath the surface, leaned back in his chair. Madam Pomfrey had assured both him and Narcissa that there were no issues with her going to France as it constituted a part of her healer training, and as such, she had no need to ask for her parents' permission. Indeed, as her Master in this apprenticeship, Madam Pomfrey was sending her on this training exercise, deeming it necessary to accommodate adequate practices in the accelerated training course.
He felt her gaze on him once again and his eyes flitted over to Septima, catching her in a moment of weakness. Her gaze was on him, and once again, their eyes met. A flash of something—indecision? Desire?—flickered across her face before she quickly looked away, her cheeks flushing a deep red, yet a frown on her face.
'What's going on?' Harry wondered, feeling an odd pang of curiosity. Septima had always been friendly and confident, engaging freely in the conversations around her. But now, it felt as though something was troubling her… something unspoken hanging in the air between them, and it left him perplexed. Yesterday, they'd had a fruitful session of Arithmancy followed by a nice dinner, and she had been perfectly fine. He wondered what had happened afterward.
Across the table, Narcissa watched the exchange with quiet exasperation. She could see the wheels turning in both of their minds—Septima's silent internal struggle and Harry's growing curiosity. She hadn't told Harry about her conversation with Septima, and she wasn't planning to. It wasn't her place to let Harry know about Septima's feelings.
'Let them figure it out on their own,' she mused. After all, Harry was perceptive enough to notice that something had changed, and Narcissa was content to observe for now. Septima was the one who needed to face it on her own and make a decision on where she stood. It was her life, not anyone else's.
Septima, meanwhile, was a mess of emotions. Narcissa's casual acceptance of the situation rattled her more than she cared to admit. The blonde witch had spoken with such calm certainty as if it were the most natural thing in the world to share a man like Harry.
'How can she be so at ease?' The thought of being with Harry was intoxicating—he was brilliant, kind, and so much more than any man she had ever encountered—but the idea of sharing him, of knowing other women were just as important to him, gnawed at her.
Harry frowned as he gazed at her, and finally, he decided to ask.
"Septima?" Harry's voice brought her back to reality. She looked up, startled, and saw that he was watching her closely. "Are you okay? You seem…distracted."
Her heart skipped a beat as she felt eyes on her, however, her gaze was fixated on him and no one else.
"I'm fine," she replied hastily, forcing a smile. She knew it was a white lie. She wasn't fine. Far from it. Her eyes fell on Narcissa who was sitting there beside Harry, looking serene and composed, as though she hadn't just upended Septima's entire worldview with a few carefully chosen words, all of which were true.
Narcissa's gaze flicked between them, her smile growing just a bit wider. "I think she's just wondering who she'll practice her lessons with," she said smoothly. Turning back to the woman, she smiled prettily. "I'm sure you can manage on your own for a few weeks, Septima. You are great at what you do. Isn't she?"
Harry nodded, smiling reassuringly at the woman. "Exactly. In fact, I don't think we need to hold any further sessions at all. You've shown how good you are at the subject, and you teach very well too. You're ready, believe me."
"I have an idea," Narcissa said, gazing at her. "You should join us in France as well, Septima. I'm sure Harry wouldn't mind having more support, and you've always been interested in high-level dueling. I know that."
Septima blinked at the sudden proposal as she felt eyes on her. Her mind raced as she tried to formulate a reply.
"I… uh—" She hesitated, feeling as though she were being pulled into a web she wasn't ready to navigate. Narcissa's offer was tempting, but it felt like a test. She could see it in the woman's eyes. The proposal was a loaded one, and in a way, Narcissa was making her decide here and now.
Could she really be part of Harry's life in the way Narcissa suggested? She had no fucking idea.
Harry, still oblivious to the undercurrents swirling around him, simply smiled. "The more, the merrier," he said. But there was a flicker of something in his gaze as he looked at Septima who tried to decipher it. Was it a question, perhaps? Or an invitation? A hopeful gleam entered her eyes at the thought and she bit her lip softly, thinking.
Her heart raced, torn between the temptation of the forbidden fruit, as Narcissa had called it, and the fear of stepping into a world she didn't understand. As she gazed at Narcissa who seemed to be looking at her with encouragement, her words from before rang in her ears.
Take a leap of faith.
The question was: could she? She had no fucking idea.
-Break-
There was a slight chill in the air as Harry made his way out of Hogwarts, trudging through the stone pathway that led to the bridge in the distance. His mind was still occupied with Septima and what might have been troubling her during breakfast.
The hopeful part of him did have an idea – that she might be falling for him. However, he asserted the logical side and pushed that errant thought to the side. If there indeed was something, it would not be resolved by his thoughts. She would broach the subject herself, either verbally or otherwise.
It did make him wonder about whether she would be coming to France for the Circuit. She had declined to give a concrete answer, instead saying that she would think about it. A part of Harry did want her to come, but he would also understand if she stayed in Britain. She did feel she needed to prepare even more for her upcoming role as the Runes professor, even though he believed she was prepared enough.
Shaking his head, Harry thrust his hands into the pockets of his coat as he walked across the bridge. The wards ended here, and he would be able to apparate soon enough.
The destination was a bit unorthodox. Bellatrix was waiting for him right outside the Leaky Cauldron, on the muggle side, for what would be their date. Harry still had a hard time believing he was involved with the woman who had been the mother of that blonde cunt, but this pushed the unthinkable to the extreme. Bellatrix – the fucking psychopath who was not really one in this timeline – was to be one of the women he would be sharing all of himself with. The world had truly gone bonkers.
Chuckling, Harry twisted on the spot and apparated away with a faint crack, reappearing mere seconds later in an alleyway south of the Leaky Cauldron, away from the public eyes – both magical and mundane. His enhanced magical senses alerted him before his eyesight and he whirled around, taking the alluring brunette by surprise.
Bellatrix stood like a dumbass, with her arms spread wide in what had been a failed attempt to scare Harry, and the wizard had to stifle a laugh at the look of sheer bewilderment and awkward embarrassment that erupted on her face as she slowly pulled her arms to her side.
"Plan failed?" He could not resist teasing her, and all it did was earn him a stinky look from the brunette, further adding to his amusement.
"Let's go. I don't want to stand here in a back alley all night," she muttered and turned around, only to come to a stop when Harry reached out and grabbed her hand. He gave a gentle tug and pulled her toward himself, and Bellatrix turned to him. The frown on her face did not last long as Harry cupped her cheeks and pressed his lips firmly against hers. Without any conscious effort on either's part, their lips began to move, slowly at first, but quickly gaining momentum. Their breaths mingled, their tongues darting out and caressing one another as they kissed in the middle of the alley as the sky darkened further around them.
Finally, after what felt like hours of snogging, they separated, and there was a genuine smile on Bellatrix's face that once again made Harry wonder just how this beautiful woman had turned into her hideous, cruel self in his original timeline.
"Skipping a few steps already, are we?" She teased, smirking, and Harry chuckled.
"I think we skipped many steps yesterday, in my room," he quipped.
Rolling her eyes, the brunette stepped forward and pressed herself against him, gazing up into his emerald orbs.
"So, what do you plan to surprise me with?"
Harry's hands reached down, holding her by the small of her back. She had a thick coat on that reached down to her knees, and her hair had been left flowing down her back in swirls, with a single thick strand framing her face. Harry reached up and gently tucked it behind her ear.
"Impatient much?" He asked, smirking. Bellatrix simply raised an unimpressed eyebrow. Chuckling, Harry grabbed her hand and led her out of the alley. "Come on, then. I'm gonna show you a proper muggle experience now."
"I'm not going inside one of those metal boxes," Bellatrix said firmly, eyeing a passing car with obvious skepticism.
"That's exactly what we're gonna do," Harry chuckled. "Come off it, already. Didn't you take the Hogwarts Express? What else do you think that is?"
"That's magical," she tried weakly.
Harry shook his head as he hailed a taxi. He held the door open for her, tilting his head and gesturing meaningfully for her to get in. The sulking look she gave him made him chuckle as he followed her in.
"The Flare Blitz," he told the driver, and they were underway.
The ride took them barely ten minutes, and throughout, Bellatrix kept a firm grip on his arm, eyeing the inside of the taxi with trepidation. Harry was thoroughly amused by her reaction – the sheer innocence she was displaying standing as a stark contrast to the image he'd had of her, in both timelines now. The moment the taxi came to a halt, she seemed to relax considerably and followed him on the way out.
"See? That wasn't too bad, was it?"
"I guess," she admitted reluctantly as she turned around. "What's this place?"
"A nightclub," Harry told her.
"Like a pub?" She asked with a raised eyebrow.
"A bit. But with more dancing involved. Before we get in though, we should take these off," he said, taking off his coat. "It'd be hot inside. We'd sweat buckets if we kept these on."
Bellatrix nodded and took off her coat as well, and Harry smiled as he saw what she wore underneath. She noticed his gaze and frowned slightly.
"This is the only muggle wear I own," she admitted, shaking her head. "Andi sent it to me. You can guess my family doesn't have a very high view of this stuff."
"It suits you," Harry smiled. "Black is definitely your color."
"Mm-hmm," Bellatrix smirked as she stepped closer. "And I'm sure it's got nothing to do with how much skin you can see."
Her husky voice sent a shiver down his spine and he gazed at her with desire apparent in his eyes. He gave her a once over, his glances lingering on a few spots. The black cocktail dress that she had on came to just above her knees, held around her neck with a knot, leaving her shoulders bare. It had a decent neckline, only giving a hint of her generous assets that lay hidden underneath the shimmering fabric. The lace work was intricate, and as Harry reached out, he discovered that the fabric was silky soft to the touch.
The brunette smirked at the transfixed look on his face as he checked her out, pleased that he liked it so much. His eyes took their time to complete their journey and when they finally reached up to hold her gaze, Bellatrix was elated to find them filled with desire.
"That too," he admitted without any hesitation whatsoever, and her smirk widened.
"Good," she nodded. "Now let's go in. I don't know about you, but I'm in no mood to freeze my arse off in this area where I can't do magic."
Snorting, Harry took her hand and led the way. The bouncer at the entrance gave them a once over, undoubtedly checking their attire to ascertain what their background might be, and Harry raised an amused eyebrow. The large, intimidating man gave him a curt nod as he stepped aside, allowing them entry.
"What was that?" Bellatrix asked, glancing back to see the man had already shut the door behind them.
"Many nightclubs have strict door policies to control who enters their establishment," Harry explained. "This is a posh area, and clubs have certain standards, both in practice and selection of guests. I reckon you'll only find well-dressed, rich-looking, or famous people in here."
Bellatrix nodded absently, her eyes darting about as she took everything in. There was a look of wonder on her face as they walked, watching the number of people either seated in comfortable couches and armchairs or enjoying the company of others on the dance floor.
"There's also the factor of gang warfare in all of this," Harry continued as they kept walking until they reached an empty table for two. There was a waitstaff at hand and Harry nodded at her.
"Gang warfare?"
"Yeah. Protection rackets. That mostly happens in areas with gang influence though. This one's not it."
"Guess I won't get so see gunfights then," she joked, making him snort.
"If you're interested in that shit then I'm sure we can arrange something," he replied. "Drinks?"
"I don't even recognize half of these," she remarked as she looked the list over.
"Vodka's always good," Harry replied. The server was quick to approach them, and he placed their order.
The woman's eyes lingered on Harry for longer than what would normally be considered appropriate, and although Harry ignored her, focusing entirely on his date, the said date eyed her pointedly. Blinking, the server turned around and walked away, but the purposeful sway of her hips was unmistakable.
Shaking her head, Bellatrix turned back to Harry, only to find him staring at her in amusement.
"What?"
"Being possessive, are we?" He asked with a grin.
"You might not be exclusive or anything, mister, but I won't tolerate this on a date," she said curtly.
"More than fair," Harry agreed. "And I'd rather be eyeing up the real delicacy here. After all, when you've got a vintage, you hardly need to look elsewhere."
"Good answer," Bellatrix smirked.
The woman returned with their order within a minute, surprising Bellatrix slightly. She had not expected it to be that quick considering these people were not using magic.
"That's a high-end establishment for you. Quick service goes a long way to ensure customer satisfaction," Harry smiled politely at the server who eyed Bellatrix and took her leave. Holding back a laugh, he remarked, "I think you've put the fear of the devil in that woman already."
"Shouldn't eye you up then," Bellatrix shrugged. "Now tell me how to drink this."
Harry coached Bellatrix through the process. They had both neat shots and the tonic, which Harry believed were more than enough for them.
Bellatrix proved to be quite an adept drinker as she seemed to relish the smoothness and taste of the neat. It was a premium and required no dilution. Given the way she was savoring the shot, Harry was pleasantly surprised.
"You've been to places like this many times before?"
"Not really," Harry replied. He had been to a fair few in the previous timeline after the war ended, and mostly because Narcissa used to insist. Emptying another shot, he continued, "I've been to a fair few, but I won't call myself a frequent club goer."
The tonic was even easier for her, and she seemed to like it very much.
"Muggle alcohol is quite different from what we have," she remarked, emptying the glass swiftly. "It's still not as strong as the Firewhiskey though."
Harry nodded as he leaned back and made himself comfortable. He watched Bellatrix pick up another glass and lean forward, giving him a nice view down her dress. Her lips curved into a playful smirk. "You look like you're wondering something. Is it the tournament, by any chance?"
"Not really," Harry smiled. "I'm just thinking it was a good decision bringing you here. You seem to be enjoying yourself. Besides, I was also curious to see how well you'd handle being in a muggle setting."
She arched a brow, her fingers lightly tracing the rim of her glass. "And? How am I handling it so far?"
"Apart from that taxi ride, it's been smooth," he replied, leaning forward slightly. Bellatrix let out a dramatic sigh, prompting him to chuckle. "It's good though. Most purebloods would've been much more uncomfortable, but you… not really."
Her eyes danced with amusement as she downed another shot, and Harry was surprised to see how well she could hold her drink. "Well, I may have grown up in a family that believes muggles are beneath us, but I've always been curious. There's something thrilling about doing things my family would never approve of."
She winked at him, and Harry felt a sudden tightening around his loins. Her meaning was not lost on him. Their relationship, budding it might be, was vehemently against her family's wishes since she was betrothed to another man, and being her with him in such an intimate setting was her act of…
"Rebelling, are we?" He asked lightly, trying to compose himself.
Bellatrix let out a soft laugh, the sound melodic to his ears. "Maybe. Or maybe I just like exploring things beyond the narrow world my family tried to keep me in. There's a lot more out there, don't you think?"
Harry nodded, watching her closely. "More than most people realize."
There was a lot of hidden meaning behind her words, and from the meaningful look in her eyes, he knew she meant everything. This was an adventurous woman who wanted to push the boundaries, and as Harry thought about it, he found himself eager to join her.
"I guess I like to do things that others don't expect either," he remarked, and her grin widened.
"Mysterious, aren't you? I do think I like that."
There was almost a purr in her voice, and it sent his blood rushing south once again. Harry cleared his throat to compose himself.
"I really wasn't sure what to expect when Cissa and I talked about you, you know?"
"Oh?" She whispered as she leaned forward teasingly, knowing full well what she was doing. "Was I supposed to be intimidating?"
"Maybe," he matched her tone, unabashedly eyeing her up. "But I'm pleased to find out you're such a charming woman."
"Flattery now?" She let out a tinkling laugh. Her eyes shining with a multitude of emotions, she said suggestively, "First, you order so many drinks for us. Now, you're pampering me with cozy words. Why do I get this feeling that there's an endgame to all of it?"
Harry let out a derisive snort as he eyed her. His voice took on a confident edge as he leaned closer, almost touching her. Bellatrix's breath was on his lips as they gazed into each other's eyes, passion and lust mounting between them. "Believe me, the last thing I need is to get you drunk. I much prefer my women sober when we're together."
"Doing what?" She whispered.
"I'm sure your sister must've told you."
"I want to hear it from you, mister."
Harry's lips quirked in amusement as he eyed her. Those violet orbs of hers had darkened considerably, her desire rolling off her in waves as she leaned forward on the table. He only needed a glance to see her nipples poking against the fabric of her dress and he realized how aroused she was.
Things were escalating fast, but Harry had more plans with her for the evening.
Instead of saying anything, he stood up, and her eyes immediately fell on the prominent bulge at the front of his jeans. Her gaze remained fixated on his erection when he cleared his throat, his eyes dancing with amusement.
"Let's dance for a bit, and I'll tell you what your sister must've also told you by now," he said huskily as he leaned closer, their lips almost touching. Bellatrix leaned forward to press their lips together, and Harry leaned back, smirking. "Being impatient and greedy now, Bella? Come on, good things happen to those who wait."
"Bullshit," she muttered. Harry chuckled and pulled her to her feet, and wrapping his arm around her waist, he pressed her flush against himself.
"Let's not end this lovely date already, okay?" He whispered huskily in her ear, smirking when he felt her shiver. "We've got a nice session of dancing ahead of us now. We're in a posh nightclub, after all. And when we're done, well… I guess we'll see."
Still smirking, he pulled back and regarded her. She was breathing heavily and as she glanced up at him, his grin widened as he took in how dark her eyes were with lust and desire.
"All right then," she whispered. "Let's see what you're made of, Peverell."
"The feeling is mutual, Black."
TBC.
My Patreon: patreon.com/TheBlackEarl
There, you'll get access to chapters upto 3 months in advance. Chapters 19, 20, and 21 are already up.
Also, check out my other fics if you like this one.
Thanks for reading!