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Two Steps From Hell	By : Ssserpensssotia Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 30375 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. No profit is being made. No copyright infringement is intended. Everything Harry Potter related belongs to J.K.Rowling.

Chapter List
- 29
- 30
- 31
A/N
Sorry for the long wait. I actually had a chapter already written, but then I felt like it was all wrong. So I had to wait and think, and think...and I came up with a solution. So, without me wanting it, I have added a major twist to the story. It sounds crazy, but it solves all my problems with future chapters. Also, I couldn't decide on the ending. I re-read some of my favourite stories as I tried to understand what kind of ending I really want. There will be many chapters, but I have to direct them towards the end-game. So now I have finally decided how I want to end it, I can write again.
And last part...I would like you, dear readers, to trust me. I mean, I do everything I can to keep all characters IN character, and only when it's absolutely necessary do I add changes. So, before you judge Hermione for her weaknesses, I'd like you to give me the benefit of a doubt. I know what is going on with Hermione, so please don't think I walk in the fog about it.
And please, tell me if something really bothers you as you read, not 150.000 words later, ok? It could be a logical mistake, or it could be intentional. So, give me a chance to explain.
To everyone who reviewed- you guys are the best.
Please take a minute and let me know what you think. I cannot really improve or grow as a writer if you don't tell me anything.
There are mistakes, and the chapter is NOT beta-ed. I should wait and re-read the chapter several more times, but I am having a bit of anxiety problems recently, so I thought you'd forgive me. If you find huge errors, please let me know.
Sorry for the long AN.
xxx
Chapter Thirty
September
The words were jumping before his eyes and he couldn't concentrate on anything. He loved reading and he was a fast reader, but only if he liked what he was reading.
He had to rub his red eyes before reading one more paragraph.
"The main difference between investments in stocks and shares is the risk—
Draco slammed the book shut and threw it against a wall.
It was useless.
He hated Finances.
xxx
"I taught your father, Draco, and let me tell you I have never met a more brilliant man in the field of Finances. Lucius Malfoy could create miracles just a year into his studies, and when he graduated with both Financial and Law degrees, I have never felt more proud to have been a Professor in my whole life." Professor Langley started—again—his awed speech and Draco wanted to hide under the table and just close his ears.
"Lucius had contacted me personally and asked to supervise your educational progress, Draco. And I don't know what to think." Amiral Langley smiled his forced smile and his eyes shone with disappointment.
Yeah, well, fuck you and fuck father.
Draco's self-control was the only thing that kept his face expressionless—like a true Malfoy— but his insides were burning with rage and anger.
For the last weeks he had been hearing what a great mind his father had when it came to money, and how he would follow in his footsteps.
In the world of money, a Malfoy had even more expectations than in the world of magic.
He knew he was bad at Finances, and he had to read the damn books with equations and calculation methods at least twice to even understand what the hell the author was talking about.
He hated what he was forced to study.
"Draco, I understand it may seem hard, but it's in your genes. You cannot be that bad in Finances when your father is a prodigy."
He wanted to scream "I am not my father!" but he could only nod silently.
It was September and his studies had begun two weeks ago, and he was a disappointment already.
Draco wondered why he still wasn't contacted by his probably angry father.
"We'll try with the other books first then. How does "Wizarding Banking" sound?"
Like shit.
"It sounds great, Professor. Let's give it a try." Draco smiled a stiff smile and braced himself.
He hated his life.
xxx
It was just too much!
He was so close to using time-turners every day now.
He knew he wouldn't be able to balance all his duties and he'd flip out soon.
And just when he had thought that everything was going like he had planned, he had received a letter from his old Professor and friend, requesting a meeting.
What he had heard from Langley made his good mood disappear completely.
"So you're saying he's a dimwit?" Lucius spat the last word, holding one hand in a fist and the other pinching his nose.
His only son, his heir, was as gifted in Finances as Lucius was in Divination, and he wanted to roar from rage.
What was he going to do with his empire?!
"I am not saying he's a dimwit, Lucius. I am saying he should study something else, as Finances are definitely not for him. He could be a very talented Transfigu—
Lucius slammed his fist onto the desk, making Langley shut up before he could say what Lucius refused to hear.
"He must learn how to use his brain the correct way. He will!" He knew he was almost screaming, but he couldn't help it.
He loved Draco more than he loved anything else in the world, and he was doing it for Draco.
He was doing it for the eternal glory of his family.
The Malfoys.
Lucius closed his eyes with a hand.
He knew Langley very well and he trusted his opinion, but not in regards to his own son.
Lucius was the only person who knew Draco well enough to make judgements. He was going to help his son understand the need to study well.
Why?!
The best, purest blood, and the result…
"You cannot force the boy to study what he hates. And he obviously hates everything to do with both Law and Finances. There is no point in it, Lucius. Even if he studies, he won't rise to the top. He will never be you."
Langley was trying to talk in a calm manner, trying not to piss off Lucius even more, but it was to no avail.
Lucius was looking out of the window, not seeing the beautiful view of Magical Venice, deep in his thoughts.
Why couldn't Draco be like Granger who studied so many things simultaneously? The girl hated the Dark Arts but was number one in her year.
"You will make sure he studies, Langley. I don't care what Draco likes or hates, he will become great with finances, no matter if he wants it, or not."
Lucius turned away from the window and his cold grey eyes were now trained on his long-time friend.
"You're making a big mistake, Lucius," Amiral Langley said in pensive tone before nodding a few times. "I'll do my best."
xxx
A loud bang was heard somewhere in the manor, and then the sound of broken windows made it to her ears, waking her up from her troubled sleep. Turning to the side, she found the bed empty.
Disturbed, Narcissa put on her night-robe and quickly came downstairs to see what Lucius was doing to cause so much noise.
The cursing was heard from his study, and as Narcissa approached the closed doors, she shivered a bit.
She was a brave, strong woman who loved her husband dearly, but lately, Lucius started to scare her. She did not know what to expect from him anymore.
As she opened the doors—she would not be knocking in her own home— Narcissa took a silent, but deep breath.
Lucius was drunk, and Lucius was angry.
"Oh Cissy, come here. What a great timing you have, sweetheart. Troubles sleeping?" Her husband asked lightly while catapulting another ancient vase into the air and out of the closed windows, breaking the glass and the vase on its fly down.
"What are you doing, Lucius, are you mad? Those are my vases from the Ming dynasty!" Narcissa hissed in anger before approaching Lucius and standing before his half-sitting, half-lying figure in the armchair. He was still wearing a deep-blue suit and only the tie was missing. The eyes on his refined face looked colder than Narcissa could remember seeing them, and a chill ran up her spine.
Was it Draco?
"And where is the Ming dynasty now? " Lucius asked in velvety tone that told Narcissa all she needed to know.
It was Draco.
"Come to bed, Lucius. We'll talk tomorrow when you're sober." She moved to the door when suddenly, she heard Lucius's laugh.
"Oh, Cissy, Cissy." Narcissa turned around at the tender voice, and almost lost her composure when she saw the angry snarl on his face.
"Sit."
Did he lose all his marbles? Who did he think he was talking to? A dog?
She was Narcissa Malfoy nee Black, and even Lucius was not allowed to talk to her like that.
"You talk to me like that again…"
She let the ending hang.
Lucius usually backed away when she spoke in such intonations. Yes, he was a Dark Wizard and he knew a lot but Lucius preferred not to fight if there was a negotiable way out. Her husband was easily scared, no matter what he liked to believe.
Lucius was a coward. And he loved her.
He would back off now and then apologize.
"And then what? What will you do?" Lucius was smirking at her frozen figure, looking her in the eye.
He had never talked like that to her, and with terror, Narcissa understood that maybe, it was it between them.
This was a different Lucius she did not know.
She wanted to say that she'd leave him then—she had threatened like that only once, when the Dark Lord returned— , but now, Narcissa felt it would only worsen things.
He might actually agree to it, and no matter what she said, Narcissa did not want to lose her husband.
"You are drunk, Lucius. Don't embarrass yourself any further." Narcissa spoke in calm, cold voice and turned around to leave this madness and go upstairs, only to find her hands gripped painfully from behind.
"I said, "Sit!"
Narcissa screamed as Lucius threw her onto the sofa, not caring about the bruises that would appear on her arms, or her shocked face, as he slowly walked over to his armchair and sat, crossing his feet.
"Whiskey?" Lucius smiled at her, and Narcissa felt tears in her eyes at his mock tsk.
He knew she did not drink anything stronger than wine.
"Tell me, Cissy, how do you think our son is doing at Illuminus University of Magic?"
Narcissa Malfoy sat more comfortable on the sofa and glared at her husband.
Draco had written five letters in two weeks, begging her to make Lucius reconsider his decision, telling her that he hated his life and wanted to study what he wanted.
"You tell me, since our son is there because of your decision," Narcissa pointed out before leaning back and composing herself.
She did not know what Lucius and Draco talked about. However, straight after the talk Draco had agreed to study Law and Finances.
Lucius must have threatened Draco with something important. And it worked.
A sudden—insane—laugh escaped the lips she loved so much, and she shivered at its coldness and rage.
Merlin, what did Draco do?
A single paper appeared in Lucius's hand. His fingers, adorned with several sparkling rings, were holding the paper as if it was something repulsive to touch.
"What is this?" She asked in a calm manner, raising one shaped eyebrow in question.
"This is our son's first evaluation test. Do you want to guess the mark?"
When Lucius was angry, his voice acquired a hushed, velvety tone and Narcissa knew it was going to be bad.
Very bad.
"Just tell me already. Enough is enough, Lucius."
The paper appeared in her lap and Narcissa's frantic eyes quickly found the mark and the percentage.
Well, it wasn't the best, but it wasn't the worst she had expected, and she was about to say it out loud when she was interrupted by Lucius.
"Don't even open your mouth, Cissy. Don't you dare tell me that "Acceptable" is not that bad." Lucius drank his whiskey in one go before pouring another shot. "Our baby boy is so smart!" Here he mimicked her voice and she lost all self-control.
"How dare you?!" She screamed while getting quickly on her feet only to fall back onto the sofa after a stinging slap from her beloved husband.
What?!
"It's all your fault, Narcissa. You had only one responsibility, and that was to make sure our son, a Malfoy heir, would grow up to be a successful, smart man." Narcissa found it hard to breathe from rage and anger that were suffocating her. That bastard was talking about their Drakie!
She wished for him to shut up, but instead, he continued. "And what do I have now? I have a multi-trillion worth empire and an idiot for a son. Fantastic, don't you agree?"
"Draco is not an idiot! His father is!" Narcissa screamed without restraining herself.
Neither of the Malfoys who were now glaring at each other in contempt noticed a pale-faced Draco standing quietly in the corridor, just behind the opened doors, crying silent tears.
xxx
Everything was such a mess in her head.
She didn't know how to define what was going on between them. Her body and half of her heart betrayed her, but the other half and her mind—they were still hers. She felt like two different people sometimes. And adding Dracula, her head was a bit overcrowded.
It felt like she was running on high-heels on thin ice and she preferred not to think about the second when she'd fall and the ice would crack.
Marvolo was sitting in his chair, casually leaning back, one elegant hand holding a book—surprise—and Hermione wondered when she had become so shallow. She knew that she wouldn't have been looking at him silently, with pensive but not negative expression on her face if he had looked like the snake-face she had met the first time. Hermione really didn't think that looks mattered, as she had always believed herself to be a proof of that statement.
She had been teased and insulted many times when she was a kid. Bushy hair, large teeth and her intellect did not add popularity. It took time to believe that she was actually beautiful.
He gave her confirmation; he gave her confidence in her looks. It was strange, but it was logical.
If Lord Voldemort, the now-official ruler of two wizarding countries and immortal Dark Lord who additionally looked like sin personalized said and thought that you were beautiful, then you truly were.
Hermione knew her curiosity was going to bring her some major problems. She didn't even doubt it.
But what can you do if you're interested?
"Tell me about your first time."
The way she said it didn't sound like an order, or a request. It sounded like a wish. It was something very private and she was probably breaching her limit with him, but she so wanted to know.
Did he dominate? Or did he allow a woman to lead? Was it with someone special?
And even though she knew now to be careful with her wishes, she was curious. How was it, with whom …
How did Lord Voldemort's first sexual experience look like? How old had he been and how was it for someone like him?
Hermione felt his gaze and smiled as the book was put away.
"What do you want to know, my curious little— " Here he paused and a little smirk appeared on the handsome face. He wasn't vulgar. "— kitty?"
He was in good mood and she could get what she wanted.
"Was it good?"
She asked before she could catch herself, and the mortifying realisation that she wanted to hear "No" washed all over her.
Marvolo was still leaning back into his regal chair, but his attention was on her now. His deep-blue shirt had the first few buttons opened, and Hermione saw the moment he swallowed.
"Yes."
His answer was not supposed to make her feel jealousy, but it did.
Was she also that good, or was she worse in comparison?
"Is that a rhetorical question, or do you want an honest answer?"
Marvolo got up from his chair and slowly walked over to her, the light from the fireplace making the shirt shimmer.
Hermione licked her lips and shook her head, not wanting to go into the topic of her insecurities. Again.
"Very well, what do you want to know?" His thumb was drawing slow circles on her cheek, and Hermione leaned a bit into the touch.
When she asked the question, Hermione didn't know she had opened a can of worms so big it could swallow the whole world.
She was just curious.
xxx
When Hermione had asked the question, his first reaction was to take out his wand and break all her bones, but since he had agreed to play this charade called "relationship", he had to calm down his rage that rose without his intention at the personal question.
He had had sex here and there, but he had never been interested in it in the first place, so he had never actually thought back to his first time. It just didn't interest him.
She had been an older student, a 7th year Slytherin, and the first time he had had sex was at the end of his 6th year. He could have done it much earlier, but magic interested him much more than any female body.
Voldemort squinted his eyes a bit as he travelled through the corridors of his memory— left, left, up and right. There, on the 3rd shelf below, the memory was stored. He mentally reached for it and the images started to flow into his organized mind.
He didn't know why Hermione wanted to know more, but it had to be connected to her somewhat troublesome insecurities and insane curiosity. He had told Hermione several times that she wasn't ugly—it was a compliment from someone like him—, but she still doubted her looks.
The girl from the memory was pretty—not bad—, with long blond hair and shining green eyes. Emilia Greyson was her name, judging by the memory he was going through now.
He had sex with Emilia several times before she graduated from Hogwarts. He didn't really care what happened to her afterwards.
He had so many objectives that he had no time for any girl, no matter how good in bed she was.
And so, he told Hermione small details that interested her, and watched her emotions with curiosity.
Lord Voldemort smiled at the expression on Hermione's face and made a move to remove his hand from her cheek to bring her body closer to his, when suddenly, he felt chills run all over his body.
With the speed of a striking snake, Voldemort delved deeper into his mind, flying towards the memory of his first time, his heart beating irregularly now.
The taste of fear filled his mouth and then shock.
Who dared?!
He would have never suspected anything, had it not been for a small detail that his brilliant mind had noticed and alerted all his senses.
Emilia Greyson had been as pale as any other girl in Hogwarts during December in one memory, and had a beautiful tan in another. And then pale again. The sequence of the memories was perfect and not one second was out of sync, but he was a Master of Mind Arts for a reason. Now, when a small detail caught his attention, he could see the other holes when he concentrated on them.
The memory had been tampered with.
His memory…
Impossible!
Voldemort took a step away from now concerned Hermione and Apparated away.
He needed to see the lists with students from his time.
Now.
xxx
Rookwood could not get up from the floor, and Lucius swallowed hard when he saw Avery fall as well, screaming so hard that Lucius felt his insides shake.
"Say that again, Luciusss."
The Dark Lord was beyond angry and there was nothing that could calm his rage.
Lucius wanted to wake up to his beautifully created perfect world where the Dark Lord appeared to be calm and almost serene. Instead, he was locked in a nightmare where half of Inner Circle was on the floor, twitching in pain.
"My— " He knew his voice was shaking, but there was nothing he could do to calm himself when red, shining orbs were drilling holes in his mind. "— my Lord, Emilia Greyson never attended Hogwarts. We have no records of her presence anywhere in Great Britain, or France."
His heart was going to jump out of his chest if the tension did not dissolve.
"Crucio!"
He knew it was coming; he felt it in his pureblood bones even before the curse collided with his body.
Lucius could only scream and hope that his Lord's rage would subdue, as otherwise they all would be dead soon.
Xxx
He needed to calm down and think. He needed to take the memory piece by piece and analyse it. His rage was stronger than he could remember—except that time when he found out about Dumbledore's maddening plans— but even then, he hadn't felt such horror.
If there was one thing he was sure of, it was his mind.
His mind was the most secure place on earth, and yet, someone had somehow tampered his own memory. Voldemort closed his eyes, trying to calm down, and he knew he needed to leave for a while. He needed a clear head and he needed some time with himself only. He needed to find the answers.
If one memory had been tampered with, how big was the chance that it wasn't just this particular memory that wasn't truly his?
And who? Who could have such power? Who managed to fool him for so many years?
If Hermione had not asked the question about his experience, he would have never gone to inspect it in the first time. And the fake was expertly done.
He knew only two people who could create such powerful memory changes.
Since he was sure as hell that he hadn't tampered his own memory like that, that left only one person.
Dumbledore.
And that scared him. He needed to know who this Greyson really was, and what had really happened.
Damn you, Albus!
xxx
Hermione was immersed in the works about Mental powers, comfortable in the big armchair in the Slytherin Manor.
"If you need to contact me, do so using the ring. Just try not to bother me every two minutes," Marvolo remarked, walking into her room while reading one of the documents from the stack. He had even bigger mood swings that she had, and Hermione still felt the lingering feeling of shock and fear that had shot through her yesterday.
There was no trace of humour or anything in his voice, and Hermione tried not to panic at the feeling that something big had happened and she had no idea.
"See if I care if you return at all," Hermione answered in the same tone and opened the new tome, not paying attention to the other shady person in the room.
"Can I take my broom with me?"
Hermione heard the question and her head snapped toward the doors where Harry was standing on his tiptoes, swinging back and forth.
What?
"And where are you going exactly, Harry?" Hermione asked, the book forgotten on the table. She was looking into green eyes that were trained on Voldemort's still reading figure.
"I am talking to you, Harry Potter, and I am waiting for an answer." She got up and crossed her arms on her chest.
Let Voldemort go wherever he needed to go, but not with Harry!
Harry needed to be thrown into St. Mungos, for a very long rehabilitation process, and not romp around with a mad Dark Lord as his company.
"Of course I am going, Hermione! It's China we're talking about! Have you seen their Quidditch team? And the wall, and the dragons! I haven't been anywhere and so I am going with him. You're not my mom!" Everything was said in a rushed, almost hysterical tone, and Hermione had a hard time holding in her own anger.
She had done everything to save his life and he was throwing it all away.
Ungrateful little…
"Harry…" Voldemort looked away from the papers and frowned at the awkwardly standing figure with his burning red eyes and tight lips. The tone in which Harry's name had been spoken was a clear warning to everyone who knew Lord Voldemort.
Harry winced and nodded once.
"We're leaving in five minutes. And I am not going to wait, Boy Wonder." Voldemort wasn't even looking at any of them anymore, again reading the document.
If only she could read it too! What was so important that managed to get his attention for so long? It looked like a list with names and moving photos from where she was standing.
What was going on?
"I'll be like a rocket. "
Hermione saw the moment when Voldemort's right hand twitched, no doubt wanting to use his most favourite curse.
"See you, Hermione." With that Harry Apparated away.
Frowning, Hermione turned to Marvolo— who was reading, again—and simply took the paper from his hands.
The shining red eyes promised a lot of pain, but before Voldemort could even open his mouth, Hermione slammed her fist onto his desk.
"And you just forgot to mention that Harry would be going with you, didn't you?" Her narrowed eyes were shooting daggers at the shining red orbs, and Hermione wished to just take a quill and stick it into his neck.
Why did he have to be such a bastard?
The paper disappeared from Hermione's hand. The eyes shined with barely restrained rage, and she had to wonder for the millionth time if he had always been so…so …
"I don't have to mention anything to anyone, my dear. I am the Dark Lord and I do as I please. Remember?" Voldemort whispered in a dangerous tone that warned Hermione she was standing on thin ice.
Was he born like that?
"I am not just anyone. I am Hermione Granger. Remember?" She was so trying to fight the anger and the hurt from his nonchalant words.
Afraid she was not. There simply was no fear anymore.
The head with black hair moved a bit to the right, and Hermione pursed her lips.
"I cannot understand, Hermione. Are you asking for a Crucio instead of a kiss?" Voldemort slowly corrected his red tie, and summoned his cloak.
"I am asking to respect me. You're taking my drugged-out best friend who happened to be your arch-enemy on a trip, and you don't even mention it!" Hermione almost screamed from frustration and had to enforce her mental shields.
Luckily, Dracula was silent. Pensive, even.
Occlumency was a very powerful knowledge, and Hermione had never been more thankful for her daily sessions with Professor Pare.
"I can leave him here without any supervision if you so wish. Just don't complain later when Harry Potter blows up a few hundred people because he felt like it." The Dark Lord looked at her and moved towards the doors, his black cloak swirling behind him.
"Harry Potter wouldn't want to blow up a few hundred people if Harry Potter would not be given the drugs from his best pals on a daily basis."
He stopped at the opened door and turned his head a bit.
She could say whatever she wanted.
No rules.
"Not daily, Hermione," the Dark Lord corrected her with a shake of his head. "Weekly".
If she could just murder him, she would.
"We'll discuss your further wishes— " Voldemort stressed the word wishes and Hermione felt a familiar feeling of doom take over her. But why? "— when I return."
He turned to her fully. "A kiss?"
She looked at him shortly before turning around and going to his desk and sat into his chair.
Hermione picked up her book and not looking at the bastard, leaned back into the leather chair.
His leather chair.
"Farewell."
She knew she was pushing it, but she couldn't help her nonchalant response.
She felt his magic flare up in rage— it never really left since yesterday evening— but she refused to even look at him.
And then he was gone.
Xxx
He was looking at the woman playing with a small child, and he smiled a sad smile. The fire told him she was a good person. This was the eldest daughter of his hated enemy.
That was all that had to matter.
He wasn't a bad person who loved to kill. He was soft, and he was homey.
Or… used to be. Long time ago.
He had become a Mage Necromancer trying to find a way to bring his beloved ones back, only to accept the bitter knowledge that even magic had its boundaries.
Now, he was living from day to day, waiting for the time to come when his revenge could be fulfilled.
He swore it on their dead bodies.
The price was beyond normal, but it did not matter.
Normal was overrated.
He had given a magical oath to the Dark Lord and when his revenge would be fulfilled, he was going to pay the price, fully.
A willingly given soul of a Necromancy Mage was as rare as Philosopher's stone was, and his soul was now sold.
Swan's family had been protected by Lord Voldemort from the very beginning, and when the horror with his beloved ones had happened, he had approached his former student.
Now, thirty three years later, the time had come.
He had waited enough, Viscal Pare thought with a sigh as he looked at the night sky with illuminated stars.
He hated all constellations.
xxx
Lord Voldemort took a deep breath and concentrated on the memory. Potter was somewhere, and while he had taken the boy with him, he wasn't going to spend all his time with the drugged idiot.
He had matters much more important to investigate, Voldemort thought as he entered his mind scapes.
It was time to find out what the hell happened so many years ago, and who this Emilia really was.
And when he'd find out, there would be hell to pay.
For everyone involved.
xxx
Today was not a good day.
He had just come up with a plan how to turn the tables around, when this happened.
He also had no other memory about the first time he had had sex, and the one he shared with the main soul was as tampered with as he had suspected.
Why would Dumbledore try something so insanely complicated without any profit?
He shuddered at the possibility as to why Dumbledore could had been that interested….
That was not possible—he didn't even want to imagine it—, so it had to do with the person he had slept with.
Greyson did not ring any bells, and Voldemort shook his head at the mystery.
Slowly moving between the shelves of Hermione's mind, he thought about what to do now. He was only a part of a soul, but he was Lord Voldemort.
He wasn't going to end up in a diary or any other disgusting individual again. He wasn't some sort of tick that jumped from person to person, no matter what the main soul thought. He had had the pleasure of being with Potter already, and there was no one else who could be as close to the main soul as Hermione was.
And would be for a long time if he did everything according to his own plan that he had hid between Hermione's mental shelves so that the Dark Lord would not find out anything. It was ridiculous to play hide-and-seek with himself, but there was nothing to do about it.
He could not allow the main soul to succeed with the plan.
He was staying with Hermione.
She was going to keep him safe in her, and he was going to help her.
It was time to make new friends.
'What do you want, Dracula?' He heard Hermione's irritated voice as he nudged her mental shelves lightly.
No one would be telling him around.
Himself included.
xxx
a/n Well, did you guess what I am going to do? XD Thank you for reading!
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Two Steps From Hell