Disclaimer : I do not own Harry Potter or anything to do with the books. I am only borrowing the characters, places, spells, and some plot devices for my own entertainment purposes. They will be returned, cleaned and polished, to their original owner, JK Rowling, as soon as I am finished with them.

Hermione's Betrayal

A/N - I plan to have a new chapter out at least once weekly, but life is busy and likes to unexpectedly change on me at its smallest whims, so that may not always be the case. Bare with me, and we'll get through this. Now, enjoy.

Chapter One

"Are you staying or what?" Ron asked.

Harry immediately turned to Hermione. He expected her to go. She had whispered about him just as much as Ron had. She had him doubted just as much. Her answer, however, startled him and was like she had twisted the dagger that Ron had already dug into his heart, adding to the pain.

"I..." Hermione's voice was hesitant. She didn't know whom to choose, but then her choice became clear. "I'm sorry, Harry," she whispered.

Ron's face showed his shock as well. He had expected her to stay with him, Harry knew. He couldn't refuse her leaving with him, though, and so he accepted her at his side.

Harry hid the betrayal that he felt. Instead, he responded indifferently. "Fine. Go then. I don't need your help. I'll do it myself,"

Ron nodded, as if in solemn farewell, then strode out of the tent. Hermione, with a last look back at Harry, followed.

Harry didn't move until he heard the pop that indicated they had apparated away. Then, at last, he let his mask of indifference drop. Panic filled him. He had always leaned on Ron and Hermione to help him. They had always been there. He couldn't help but think of that very first big adventure he had with them, going after what they thought was Snape to retrieve the Philosopher's Stone. Hadn't they promised then to always be at his side?

They had just broken that promise. Anger at his friends welled up inside of him and he cursed as he turned and kicked out at a chair. It did nothing more than add to his pain. Sinking to his knees, he buried his face into his hands hopelessly. He had no idea what to do now, where to go, how to continue on without them. They were his constants in every problem. Without them, he couldn't solve it. He desperately wished they were back with him. If they walked back through the tent door saying that they changed their mind right at that instant, he wouldn't have been mad at all, instead accepting them back without a second thought.

As if expecting them, he looked over at the tent door. It moved slightly with the wind, but admitted nobody.

Feeling more dazed than anything; Harry climbed back to his feet and peered around wearily. He spotted Slytherin's Locket sitting on the ground, where it had landed after he had overturned the chair. Picking it up, he stared at it. A peak of anger filled him again. He'd like to pass off Ron's anger and abrupt abandonment as the locket's effects. It had always affected him the worst. But what about Hermione's betrayal? Her betrayal stung worse than Ron's had. She had left for no reason other than that she liked Ron more than him. He had never competed with Ron for her affection, and indeed hadn't loved her in the same way. Still, he missed her now that she was gone.

Sighing, Harry slipped the locket over his own neck, picked up the overturned chair, then went and collapsed on a bunk. He didn't care if he was found. In fact, he almost welcomed it. An intruder would give him something to take his anger out on. Before anyone could come, however, Harry had sunk into a restless slumber.

Hermione dabbed at a cut on her cheek weakly. Ron was at her side, studying the differences between two wands. They had both lost their own wands in the scuffle with the group of Snatchers they had apparated right into. Hermione had been spotted immediately as a "mudblood" and had been trussed up and almost shipped to the Ministry for punishment. With Ron's help, however, they both managed to escape from the particularly dim Snatchers. They had both lost their wands, but had gained two others.

"Ron," Hermione started, eyeing Ron warily. He looked up from his examining.

"Ron, I think we should go back," she told him.

Ron frowned, glancing in the direction of the Snatchers. "To Harry, you mean?"

Hermione nodded.

Ron hesitated a long time, simply staring off into space. Finally, his face crumbled, and he replied, "I think you're right,"

Hermione gazed at Ron in surprise. She had thought he would refuse and it would take days to talk him into going back. She was used to his temper, which would flare up whenever someone disagreed with him. He, however, seemed to be feeling the same guilt as herself at running out on Harry just when he needed them the most.

Ron silently held out his arm, offering to apparate them both, and Hermione took it lightly. With a pop, they appeared back in the forest, slightly further away than they had left from. Both looked warily in the direction of where they supposed the tent to be, but saw nothing. Hermione knew it was because of her spells and enchantments. They wouldn't be able to get back to the tent unless Harry came to them. He would have to see them.

Hoping that Harry was outside, perhaps guarding the tent from intruders, Hermione led the way to the area where the tent had been set up. She paused and waited; hoping that Harry would call out to her and invite her in. After a few moments, it became clear that he wouldn't. She chided herself. He was probably inside the tent.

"Harry?" she called out softly. She didn't want to attract too much attention.

Her effort didn't seem to work, as there was no response. She tried again a little louder. "Harry?"

Again, no reply came.

"Do you think he's ignoring us? Or can he just not hear us?" Ron asked, looking nervously behind them.

Hermione hesitated in answering. Both choices were alarming. If he couldn't hear them, then where was he? Had they mistaken the place where the tent had been set up?

"The only way to get in, without him letting us in, is if we happen to stumbled upon the exact entrance of the tent, and enter it. That in itself is nearly impossible, not to mention difficult. Besides, the tent may not even be here. What if he packed up and left the moment after we did?"

Ron frowned, but then said, "The tent would still be here. You have your beaded bag,"

Hermione looked down and realised that it was true. She had all of Harry's possessions in this bag. Harry had nothing now except his wand, the Horcrux, and the tent. If he left, he would likely have to leave the tent behind, meaning he would be without shelter.

More guilt came over her at this. It was her fault. If Ron had just left, and not her with him, this wouldn't have happened.

"Maybe," Ron started hesitantly. "Maybe we should find some place to stay and search for him again tomorrow, when there is some light."

Hermione hated just leaving the area. If it wasn't too late now, it might be in the morning. Still, the comfort of shelter and perhaps a warm meal was far too tempting to resist.

"Okay, but where can we go?"

"I have an idea," Ron replied, then outstretched his arm again for her to take.

The guilt Hermione felt was nothing compared to Ron's. They sat at a table across from Bill Weasley and his new wife, Fleur. Both looked down on them with disappointed stares. Fleur looked more than upset at their betrayal and Bill seemed beyond words. They had just finished their explanation, but nobody had responded yet.

Finally, Bill did reply. His voice was low. "You left him? Just like that?"

Ron nodded miserably.

"We tried going back, but we couldn't find him. We were going to try again in the morning," Hermione hastily explained.

Bill still looked down upon them. Their choice to go back did not redeem their original choice to leave.

"And you want a place to stay?"

"Please," Ron replied, though he felt awkward asking for something now. He didn't deserve help.

"We have spare rooms," Fleur said, though her voice clearly revealed her disapproval.

Bill nodded. "You can spend however long you need to here. I would never turn away family. I do, however, want to contact some people, to let them know that you're here and Harry's out there all alone,"

Ron looked ready to protest. Hermione elbowed him in the ribs. She understood Bill's reasoning. She didn't want her mistake broadcast all through the Order and Merlin only knows where else, but it had to be done. Perhaps the Order could help find Harry.

Fleur stood then and led them to their separate bedrooms. Hermione changed into some pyjamas from her purse and slipped under the covers of the bed, where she promptly curled up in a ball. The emotions that filled her confused her. She was feeling so many things at once that she couldn't keep track of them all. It was far too much to be able to sleep with. Desperately hoping that Harry was still safe, and that they would be able to find him and rejoin him the next day, Hermione buried her face into her pillow and wished for sleep.

Harry stared down dully at the collapsed tent. It was only after he had packed up his things, which were few, and collapsed the tent, that he realised he had no way to take it with him. Hermione had taken her beaded bag with her. He had no way to transport the large tent.

He growled under his breath at the girl, feeling more upset at her and Ron than he had before. Harry mentally debated what to do with the tent, but finally settled on simply leaving it here. It would leave an obvious trace that he had been here, but it would take a long time before anyone casually hiking through the woods would probably find it, and by then, he would be long gone. Besides, he reasoned, what was the harm in leaving a trail behind him? As long as nobody knew where he was going it should be fine.

Thinking of that made Harry realise that he had no real idea of where to go next. Hermione had always provided the ideas for new camping spots. He didn't really want to spend a night somewhere remote right now anyway. He didn't even have the tent for shelter.

Hiking away from the tent, Harry finally found a boulder he could sit on, and he stared off into the slowly brightening forest as he thought of all the possible places he could go. Searching for a Horcrux would be the best option. With only one person to hide rather than three, it would be easier to get in and out of places without attracting undue attention.

Mentally, Harry listed off all of the places that he suspected Horcruxes were at. Hogwarts was at the top of the list, but he knew that it was probably impossible for him to get in there. Of course, he would have to get in eventually, but it would take far more planning than what he had the time and energy for now. Maybe when he was preparing to get in, he could possibly contact someone on the inside. Ron and Hermione would probably return there now, but he doubted that he wanted their help with it. They might bail out on him halfway through again.

Shoving that bitter thought away, Harry focused on the next place. Godric's Hollow was one place that Harry had suggested over and over again, for the location of the sword and also perhaps the location of a Horcrux. Hermione had rejected the idea each time, claiming it was too dangerous. Voldemort would expect him to go there.

Feeling rebellious, Harry decided right then and there that he would go to Godric's Hollow, just to spite her. He was sure that there was no trap set there anyway. She was just being her usual overcautious self.

Standing up, Harry stretched and popped his back, then turned and apparated away from the forest. Arriving in Godric's Hollow, Harry looked around and took his first good look of the village he had been born in. He had lived here with his parents for the first fifteen months of his life, before Voldemort brutally destroyed everything that he held dear and he was placed into the Dursley's not-so-loving care.

Seeing people bustling around, even at this early hour, Harry abruptly realised that he had forgot to hide himself with a disguise of some sort. He cursed himself for not planning ahead even the slightest, but then set it aside as unimportant. As long as he acted like he belonged here, and kept his scar covered, nobody would know who he was. He could easily blend right in.

Harry wandered the streets for a time, searching for some sort of sign that there might be a Horcrux or the sword anywhere. As he walked around a corner, he froze. There, at the end of the street, was the house that Harry instinctively knew had belonged to his parents. It helped that there was a gaping hole in the roof and it looked rather neglected. Not bothering to look for coming traffic, Harry stepped out onto the street. A car almost hit him, but swerved, honking wildly.

It was as he reached the gate that Harry felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Unease washed over him as he felt that someone was staring at him. He turned, expecting to see some stranger staring at him, perhaps wondering who this odd teenage boy was, and why he was on their street, looking at a dilapidated house. Instead, he found nothing. The street was absent of human life excepting himself. Shrugging it off as paranoia, Harry looked back at the house. He suddenly felt a strange desire to enter.

Looking around surreptitiously, Harry jumped the fence and waded across the sea of weeds to get to the broken down front door. He climbed through and paused at the sight. It looked as if it hadn't been touched since the night that Voldemort had come and murdered James and Lily Potter. A thick layer of dust, about sixteen years' worth, covered everything. Rubble from the doorway littered the front room. Burnt places on the wall and floor brought Harry to think that perhaps they were remnants of his father fighting Voldemort off, while Lily ran upstairs.

Glancing at the stairway, Harry saw the state of it and immediately decided not to climb it. Instead, he left the entry room and entered a sitting room. A large fireplace was situated there, and Harry guessed that it was once used for flooing. He wondered if it was still set up for travelling, and felt a longing to return to the Burrow, where he would be welcomed with open arms, he was sure. Knowing he couldn't possibly do that, and not only because there wasn't any floo powder, Harry collapsed down onto the dusty sofa. A large plume of dust filled the room, but Harry ignored it as he stared out the large bay window. Nobody was out on the street, still, and Harry wondered how often the street was visited. Surely wizards and witches would want to see the remains of the house their boy who lived/ chosen one lived in for a few months when he was an infant. Now, though, he wasn't sure. Probably nobody came to see it. They didn't believe in him any more. He was just a boy without a hope of winning, one that had run away just as Voldemort was gaining power. Most probably thought that he was dead somewhere, his body never to be found.

He wasn't going to bother correcting them. Avoiding the public eye was something that he was trying to do, at the moment.

Settling down into the sofa, trying to get comfortable, he leaned his head back and stared up at the ceiling dully, once again pondering this useless mission of finding all of the Horcruxes.

"Hermione! I found something!"

Ron's voice rang out through the forest and Hermione immediately rushed toward him. Had he found the tent? Was Harry still there, just waiting for them?

As Hermione entered the clearing where Ron was standing, she knew that it was too late. The tent they had been using was placed in the middle of the clearing, neatly folded up. The layer of snow that covered the ground covered the tent as well, and Hermione knew that Harry had left early this morning, if not last night.

"He could be anywhere," Ron pointed out the obvious.

Hermione sighed in agreement. There was no chance of finding him now. She suspected places where he might go, but if he didn't want to be found, he wouldn't be found. Likely, they wouldn't see him again until the Horcruxes were all found and Voldemort was gone. Either then or if he died.

Hermione mentally scolded herself and pushed that thought away. Harry was perfectly able to take care of himself, with a tent or without. It was his rashness and lack of common sense that she worried about.

"Maybe we should go back to Bill's house," Ron suggested warily.

Hermione nodded silently. Ron did not offer his arm, and Hermione didn't bother asking. Instead, they both simply apparated alone to Bill's front yard. They crossed the grass and entered the house. Bill was in the kitchen, sitting at the table with two other people that they both promptly recognised. Molly Weasley and Remus Lupin had come to check up on them. Both looked up, startled at their sudden entrance.

Molly immediately jumped to her feet and rushed toward them, pulling first Ron, and then Hermione into her tight grasp and muttering words such as, "Oh, I've missed you!", "Are you okay?", and "I've been dreadfully worried!"

Remus, likewise, stood, but he didn't move closer, instead just watching. When Molly was done and they were all settled back at the table, where Fleur had brought them some tea, Remus asked the question that Hermione had been dreading. "Where's Harry?"

Hermione looked at Ron, who looked at Bill for help. Bill simply gave him a mildly scolding look and turned away. Ron looked back at Hermione, lost as to what to say.

"Where's Harry?" Remus repeated. His voice had grown a bit more firm now as he demanded the answer.

Hermione knew that she had to be the one to answer. "I don't know,"

"You don't know?" Molly repeated incredulously.

Ron took up answering then. "We, uh, kind of left him last night, and can't find him again,"

"You ran out on him, you mean," Remus reworded in a dull voice.

Ron nodded, his head bowed with shame. There was silence in the room and Hermione dreaded their reactions. Molly had a fierce temper and both cared for Harry like a son. She couldn't know what to expect beyond anger and disappointment.

"You know how Harry is when he is upset," Remus said, his voice surprisingly calm. "He'll likely do something rash."

"Like search out Riddle and try to start a duel," Bill added blatantly.

Hermione winced, knowing that it was exactly the type of thing that Harry would do in his distress.

"We have to find him," Remus continued, ignoring Bill's comment.

Molly's mouth was tightly closed with disapproval, like she was fighting against speaking. Finally, though, she said, "I'll contact Arthur. We can start sending out Order members,"

Remus nodded tightly. He headed toward the door, intending to leave, but paused before he exited. He stared back at Ron and Hermione, opened his mouth to say something, and then closed it again as he shook his head. The door slammed behind him as he left, leaving the room silent.

Harry stared blankly at the clock on the wall. It didn't work any more, but Harry still stared at it. The darkness that night brought had engulfed Harry entirely, yet he had been unable to sleep. Now, morning light was creeping through the bay window, and he was glad for it. The house had seemed to be haunted without light to tell him what those creaking and other noises were. Though he knew that the only ghosts that would likely inhabit it were his parents, and they would have probably sought for him before night fell, it still made him anxious. The haunting feeling was more like his own memories coming back to him. It was similar to a Dementor, he decided, except without the coldness, though there was that too. The house wasn't actually in the best of conditions and it was wintertime outside.

Climbing to his feet and stretching out his unused muscles, Harry tried to think about his next plan. Yesterday, late in the afternoon, he had finally braved the stairs and explored the upper level of the house. Harry had thought he might discover something useful, but he found nothing, just a ruined home and some old things that had once belonged to his family. He doubted any of them were a Horcrux. He would be able to feel it, like the Horcrux that was still around his neck.

Harry's plan of action now was to head to the cemetery. Though he doubted that there was anything significant to his quest there, he hoped to find his parents' graves. He had never visited them before, hadn't even known where they were most of his life, but now that he had the chance, he didn't want to lose it.

Going outside the house without a disguise on was a bad idea, Harry knew, especially this early in the morning, when there weren't exactly crowds of people to blend into. Still, he exited the house without any sort of disguise or charm on him. While visiting the graves of his parents, he wanted to be purely Harry Potter, not someone or something else.

A layer of snow had built up overnight and it made the walkways slippery. It didn't bother Harry all that much, but it did take a bit longer for him to get to the cemetery than he would have thought. Not to mention that he had to find the place in an unfamiliar village.

Finally walking through the gate into the cemetery, Harry paused, not exactly sure where to begin looking. The cemetery was full of graves, of all ages, and Harry had no idea where he might find his parents. He settled upon starting at one side and walking down all of the aisles until he found the Potter grave stones. As he walked, he examined the names. Some he recognised as names from classmates at Hogwarts. He realised that Godric's Hollow was a big historical wizard village. He spotted some Dumbledores and paused once again to examine them, feeling more betrayal pierce him. Dumbledore had never mentioned that their families had come from the same village.

Annoyed, Harry continued on. Closer to the far end, Harry finally came across the two stones he had been looking for. They were polished marble and had the names and dates engraved on them, along with the phrase, "The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death."

Harry was a bit disturbed. Wasn't that sort of a Death Eater themed phrase? He scowled down at it, wondering who exactly had selected it. Dumbledore, maybe, or Remus. Perhaps one of their parents. Had his grandparents outlived them? He wondered where they were now, and if they were buried in this cemetery as well, or elsewhere. Peering around at all the stones he hadn't read, he sighed. He wasn't going to bother trying to find them if they might not even be here.

Crouching down, Harry rubbed his mum's name. Though he knew it would do nothing, he closed his eyes and wished for her to be alive. All he had ever seen of her in his life were photographs or shadows. In his first year, he had seen her in the Mirror of Erised. He had heard her pleading voice in his third year, with all of the Dementors. A memory of her had come out of Voldemort's wand at the end of his fourth year.

He suddenly desperately missed her, though he had never really known her. If she were here, none of this would be happening. He would likely be at Hogwarts right now, studying with Ron, Hermione, Neville, Ginny, and everyone else. He probably wouldn't even be the boy who lived any more. She wouldn't have had to sacrifice herself for him.

Feeling someone watching him for the second time, Harry turned again, and this time, he saw someone. An elderly lady was standing just outside the gate of the cemetery, staring over at him. When she saw him look over, she beckoned to him with her finger.

Curious, Harry stood and studied her, thinking about who she might be. Suddenly, it came to him. She must be Bathilda Bagshot. Dumbledore had known her and he had known she lived here somewhere. Why hadn't he thought of this before? She probably had the sword if it was hidden here.

Walking toward her, Harry continued looking at her. She was definitely very old, and something seemed off about her, but he suspected that it was definitely Bathilda Bagshot, and he also suspected that she had the sword. Where else would Dumbledore leave it? He knew that Harry needed it to dispose of the Horcruxes. Why not hid it somewhere that he knew that Harry would very likely visit?

Reaching the gate, Harry leapt over it and came to a stop in front of Bathilda. She had a scent about her that reminded him of mildew and he wrinkled his nose slightly at it.

"Come," she said, beckoning to him again, then lumbered up the street. Harry couldn't exactly call what she was doing a walk. She seemed very limp, as if not used to walking. He just put it down as her being old and decrepit, and followed her. She had to be taking him to the sword.

Harry worried about Bathilda falling on the icy side walks, but she had no issues as they travelled through the village almost back to where Harry had spent the night previously. On the same street as his parents' house, Bathilda turned off and entered a different house, presumably her own. Harry once again followed.

It happened all of a sudden. Harry was lighting candles for them to see by when he heard a thump. Turning around, he drew in a sharp breath at the sight of a large snake coming out of Bathilda's neck. The body crumpled to the ground limply.

Harry was now aware that this had been a trap, just as Hermione had predicted. Bathilda Bagshot was long dead, probably killed by Voldemort himself. Nagini had been planted here, using Bathilda as a cover-up, to lie in wait for Harry to come looking for connections to his past. He had fallen right into it.

The great snake blocked the only escape route.

Drawing his wand, Harry pointed it at the snake, but Nagini wasn't even fazed. She just kept moving forward. Harry panicked, trying to get out. His efforts didn't work, however. Nagini was soon upon him. She lashed out, her fangs dripping and Harry felt a horrible pain on his leg as he fell to the ground. Looking back, he saw Nagini coiling up his legs, holding him in place, and making sure he didn't escape.

A vision popped into Harry's mind, just a quick one, and Harry was aware that Nagini was calling her master. Voldemort would arrive here, and Harry would be trapped, helpless to do anything but wait for death.

Fear clenched his stomach. He had never really thought about death. He had been near death so many times, but every time it had been a sudden thing. He had never been waiting somewhere for any amount of time, knowing death was certain but unable to do anything about it.

Harry squirmed, but he couldn't move much. His arms were pinned against his side and he could barely move his right leg. The left leg, which had been bitten, was completely numb. He couldn't feel it at all. For all he knew, it was gone, eaten by the great beast that pinned him to the ground.

Hoping that Nagini wasn't quite as loyal to Voldemort as he thought, he tried to pleading to the snake in parseltongue. Perhaps she was only devoted to the man because he could speak to her. It became apparent, shortly after his attempt, that Nagini was loyal for more than that, as she didn't reply with anything more than a caution to shush or she would squeeze tighter.

Harry closed his eyes, desperately wishing for Ron and Hermione. If they were with him, one, he probably wouldn't have even gone to Godric's Hollow, and two, they would've been the perfect backup to run in right now and rescue him.

It was a lost cause, though. For all he knew, they were already at Hogwarts, and had no idea that he was about to die.

Death came much quicker than Harry thought, as Voldemort arrived in the doorway. He peered in, and then a triumphant smirk came over his face at the sight of Harry Potter caught in the grasp of his snake.

"Nagini, release him," Voldemort ordered. Nagini promptly obeyed, and Harry was relieved of the pressure that had wrapped around his entire body. He scrambled to his knees, not able to get any further with his numbed up leg.

Voldemort just stared at him, considering him. Harry reached for his wand, but then realised it was gone. In his tussle with Nagini, he had dropped it somewhere.

Feeling unusually vulnerable, Harry turned to glare defiantly at Voldemort.

"It seems, Harry Potter, that your life has come to a rather sticky end," Voldemort said.

"I'm not dead yet," Harry retorted.

"No. I should remedy that," Voldemort agreed, lifting his wand.

Harry tensed up; preparing himself for the spell that would take his life. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad. His parents would be wherever he was going, as would Sirius.

Voldemort didn't send the spell, however. He lowered his wand, looking suddenly thoughtful. "But where are your faithful sidekicks?"

It was like a punch in the gut, reminding him of what he had lost.

"They left me," Harry told the Dark Lord. There was no bother trying to hide anything. Voldemort probably knew what had happened anyway.

"Did they?" Voldemort looked thoroughly triumphant at that, and Harry clenched his teeth in defiance.

Voldemort twirled his wand in his hand for a long moment, then said, "It really is a pity. They would've made a good audience to watch this event. I always enjoy hearing the pleas of helpless bystanders watching their loved ones be killed,"

Harry didn't reply. Instead, he just stared up at Voldemort, feeling increasingly hopeless. He had no wand, was injured, and to top it off, Voldemort still had four Horcruxes intact, not to mention the one that was hanging around his neck right now. Harry was surprised that Voldemort hadn't grabbed it yet, though he supposed that the man would thoroughly enjoy prying the Horcrux off his enemy's dead body.

Voldemort suddenly sent a curse at Harry, though it wasn't the Killing Curse, and Harry screamed in agony from the pain the curse brought.

The spell ended and Harry lay on the ground, panting and not having the will to lift himself up again. He had lost everything already. There was no point. Voldemort agreed as was shown with his next statement.

"Even your precious friends have left you, in the end. Love will not save you now, Harry Potter,"

Harry felt the sting of betrayal once again. He felt an ache in his heart. He missed Ron and Hermione desperately. With them, almost anything had seemed possible. Now, nothing did, except his imminent death.

Mentally, Harry called out to his friends, wishing they'd hear and come. It didn't work, just as he knew it wouldn't, and Harry was faced with the end of Voldemort's wand.

Then, without any more deliberation, Voldemort murmured the fateful words, those that had killed so many other people, and Harry died; his last thoughts of the friends that had betrayed him lingering painfully.

I write fanfictions to better myself in my original story/novel writing. I strive for the best, but I admit to occasionally missing things. If you see anything that needs to be fixed, or you just have any advice or comments, let me know, in a review or PM. Also, I won't respond to every review, though I'll try with PMs. I just don't have the time. However, if you ask a question, I will try to respond with an answer. Thanks.