a/n: for Kc [eyesonbluefire], my new friend, with love. she is amazing and gorgeous and v. v. nice, and i love her. you should all go read her stories, alright?
also for my fantastic home. i love you all.
this is my very first 10K, so i hope you guys like it!
(6/27: i was writing it and it kept going on and on, so never mind about the 10K, it's kind of...more.)
disclaimer: j.k. rowling ©
Calla Lily
word count: 5,191
The sound of laughing children in their undiluted innocence is sharp in the hazy air. Mothers scold red-faced, sticky fingered children as their heads bow in shame, the remains of an ice cream cone smeared on brightly-coloured tee-shirts.
Lily sits on a park bench, pomegranate-coloured hair like ribbons on her shoulders, freckled legs barely touching the grass underneath her. Her arms crossed and mouth set in a scowl, no one dares to approach her. She sits and sulks like the pretty devil she is and in her six-year-old splendour, with the sun kissing her hair and beating down on the skin of her reddened cheeks; she is a princess, the spoiled daughter of the scarred war hero.
Restlessly she shuffles her feet on the grass and stares down, listening for the sound of footsteps as they warn her of his arrival, the heavy steps of a seventeen-year-old boy—man—and who also happens to be her very best friend.
And so he arrives, with his hand in his turquoise hair and his eyes the exact shade of green as her jade eyes. "Calla Lily, what's wrong?"
She lets out a quiet 'hmph' and faces the other way, nose turning up immaturely. "Not telling."
Sighing exaggeratedly, he replies with a hint of an amused smile at the corner of his mouth as he conceals a badly-wrapped package behind his back, "Well, I suppose this present's gone to waste, then..."
Immediately as expected, the six-year old straightens and scoots closer to Teddy, smiling sweetly and folding her hands in her lap patiently like a renounced devil-turned-angel. "Teddy! Hi there! I really, really like presents, y'know." She tries to peer around him at the tiny package, no more than two centimeters tall and one wide, but he tugs her onto his lap and tickles her mercilessly, laughing. His fingers brush her stomach as she laughs loudly, and he smiles down at his god-sister as she squeals with the delight of a bird in the early morning.
"Oh, so now you want to see me, huh?" She writhes around in his lap giggling, and a small hand reaches up to tug at his now bright-yellow curls.
"I – always – want to – see you – Teddy!" she declares loudly between giggles, looking like a redheaded little orangutan with her hair curling in the intense heat and eyes glossed over in her mirth. "Now – give me – my – present!"
He, chortling, moves his hands up in surrender, knowing he can never say no to this little orangutan-girl as she climbs off of him in one swift movement. She looks up at him expectantly with stars in her eyes and hair rumpled.
Being the youngest, Lily is used to getting what she wants, when she wants. With one sparkling tear and a trembling of her tiny chin, Harry Potter would go to the ends of the world to make her happy – and Teddy is no exception to this. She is really the chink to his armour, his Achille's heel and really, he doesn't mind as much as he thought he would.
Eyes crinkling with his warm smile, he pulls the brown, crinkled paper out from behind him, enclosed in his large palm.
Lily pries it from his hand and removes the paper eagerly, only to look down, confused, at the present. The sunlight shines down upon the pair as she stands in front of him with an unmoving, Muggle chess piece in her small palm, he smiling and reaching out to ruffle her hair.
"It's a chess piece, see," he prompts gently as she stares hard at the marble.
"What am I s'posed to do with this, Teddy?" The white marble pawn stands straight in her hand, stark white against her freckled skin. She slips it into the pocket of her dotted dress and blinks long eyelashes at him, the crease in her eyebrows deepening.
He simply grins, standing, and pulls her onto his back. She wraps her legs around his waist, whooping noisily as kids stare.
The chess piece stays in her pocket, the cold marble pressing into her hip as she winds her arms around his neck, and they walk through the bevy of children and fretting mothers and head home.
She receives a black marble pawn in April, on a rainy afternoon. Carefully, standing on the tips of her toes on a wooden chair, she balances it next to the white one on an old, rusty bookshelf.
The next piece doesn't come until her ninth birthday. She receives an overindulgence of presents (which she'd never thought possible) – a broomstick from her parents, books from her aunts and uncles (Hogwarts: A History from Aunt Hermione – figures), a multitude of Puking Pastilles and Fainting Fancies from her two brothers ("You'll need it for later!"), and an assortment of miscellaneous objects from her cousins (half of which have no use whatsoever).
When the party is over and James' finished scarfing down his fourth slice of cake, she goes to stow the presents away in her room. As she's almost finished filling her pillowcase with the candy, someone knocks at the door thrice.
She shoves the remaining pieces of orange-purple candy into the pillow and leaps off the bed toward the door, opening it to find a shock of turquoise hair and a nineteen year old man.
Almost instinctively he lifts her into the air and swings her around. She laughs a lot around him, and right now her mouth is open and her head is thrown back and her loud, boisterous laugh resounds in the white-walled room.
"Teddy, oh, I've missed you!" she places a sloppy kiss to his cheek, feet stepping back down onto the wooden floor and adds innocently, cocking her head for better effect, "It's my birthday, Teddy."
"Oh, is it now?" he smirks as she places her hands on her hips and cocks an eyebrow, looking like a mini version of her mother – but oh, how different they are. She with her expectations and I want, I need and her mother with her Gryffindor pride – and bravery.
"Teddy," she warns, waggling a finger at him as he shakes his head.
"Well," he chuckles with a feigned surprised expression. He pulls a red wrapped gift from his trouser pockets, "would you look at that!"
She yelps and reveals a gap-toothed smile, her two front teeth missing and pink gums looking naked beside the other pearly whites. "Teddy, I lo-o-o-ve you!"
He rolls his eyes. "Oh, so now you love me."
"I love you – forever and ever and ever, Teddy!" Lily sings, ripping the red waxy paper off and a grin stretching her cheeks out as she stares at the rook made of marble. Quite cheerfully, she stands up on the stool and places it side-by-side next to her black pawn, and there it stands, fine and proud and wonderful.
"'Course you do, poppet," he teases, helping her down as his hand slips easily into hers and he feels at home once again. She smiles innocently up at him in her gap-toothed grandeur and tangled red braids, and his eyes flicker to jade green.
Winter arrives four months after her birthday has passed, bringing crystalline flakes of snow, woolly scarves and hats and gloves, and new Christmas presents.
She flits over at each of her cousins' presents, insisting she open hers last. She scrunches her mouth in disapproval and Lucy's Muggle books and enjoys the music drifting soulfully from Lysander's guitar and glances sceptically at James' folded empty hands. Finally, she turns to her own pile of gifts (the largest pile of them all) and tears them open one by one, gasping with the delight of a naive child, and gazing with wonderment at the pretty objects that occupy her mind. The last present is his – she expects a black rook, and there it arrives looking like nightshade in contrast to the pure white of the white marble rook.
She thanks him over and over, bounding over to hug him, the side of her face pressed to his stomach. He ruffles her hair playfully and twines with hand with Victoire's as their fingers shine with diamond rings.
She makes a lovely flower girl, dressed in a cream-coloured dress and a basket of subdued pink flower petals, and wearing a smile so dazzling it lights up the faces of everyone around her. The entire wedding is made up of muted colours and creams and tans.
As she begins to walk down the aisle, tossing petals left and right and concentrating on not falling over, smiling at the guests giddily, she reaches for another handful of flower petals. Instead she finds something cold and hard and feeling utterly of marble. Confused, she looks down into the depths of the basket.
There she receives her white bishop. Teddy sends her a wink from the altar.
The beginning of Hogwarts – the black bishop. when she – is Sorted into Slytherin. Is ignored by James for a week. Writes to Teddy five days a week and he replies just as often. Goes home for the holidays, sees Teddy for three days.
Second Year – the black knight. when she – meets her new best friend, Amity McLaggen. Gets her first detention, followed by many more. Becomes a troublemaker. Writes to Teddy four days a week. Goes home for the holidays, sees Teddy once. Calls a 'hullo' before he has to leave again, leave to do his job and take care of his kid and love his wife. Only in-person interaction of the year.
Third Year – the white King. when she – Starts back-talking to teachers. Discovers she's rubbish at Divination. Breaks curfew with Amity. Writes to Teddy once a week. Goes home for the hols. Doesn't see Teddy.
Fourth Year – the black Queen. when she – Gets asked out on her first date. Starts flirting outrageously. Wears provocative clothing. Stops writing altogether. Starts staying at Hogwarts for the holidays.
Fifth Year – the black King. when she – Loses her virginity. Receives only three OWLs. Goes out to Hogsmeade every weekend, late at night. Parties. Loses any contact with Teddy.
Sixth Year – the white knight. when she – Loses herself completely. Sleeps around. Fails her classes (except Potions and Charms).
Forgets Teddy.
The chess pieces no longer sit cleanly polished on the top of her dresser. She no longer dusts them every day and stares and them and hopes, and remembers him. Only vague memories of him and constant smiles swim in her mind as she pushes them farther and farther back, into the recesses.
Summers pass over the years as Teddy gets busier and busier; soon enough he has absolutely no time to visit them.
She finds she sort of likes being reckless Lily, however. It's nearing the end of Sixth Year and she just gets wilder and wilder – with no one to control her. Amity is abandoned. Her parents cannot talk her out of things. Teachers give her detention. They do nothing. Secretly she thinks she's been this way all along – wild and boisterous, and her deprivation of Teddy only fuelled this transformation (or realisation, really) further.
Occasionally she'll think back and miss the way she used to laugh and it was real, smile genuinely and brighten others around her, but now she's stripped of that opaque innocence.
Chess pieces shoved haphazardly into the first draw lay scattered on the mahogany wood, dusty and an austere white.
Lily closes the draw abruptly, sucking in a lungful of air. Amity's voice floats through the air, reaching her ears and carrying the sound of desperation.
"Potter, hurry up; classes are starting soon!"
"Yeah, sure," replies Lily, shaking her head at the old chess pieces and vowing silently to throw them away later.
She slings her bag over her shoulder and walks away, without a second thought.
It is a Sunday when she realises. As she draws a careful line around her eyes, holding a dark pencil in her practised hand, she takes in the scent of Amity's peach-mango perfume and realises.
She quite likes the smell of his cologne. She remembers back in the time of childish glee when e would envelope her into a hug, folding his long limbs against her back as she wound her arms around his knees, his waist, his back. The smell of freshness and spring breezes as he would hand her a chess piece with twinkling eyes or tell her she ought to get cleaned up because it was time for dinner, or just when he'd sit cross-legged by her and talk.
The typical burning sensation comes suddenly behind her eyelids and the mirror in front of her melts into a haze and she flies toward the cabinet with angry eyes and rips open the draw and when the chess pieces clatter to the floor, rolling under her bed or colliding heavily with a trunk or a forgotten sock, she collapses on the bed and cries.
Amity finds her curled up on her bed, hours later. She nudges her gently in the side and pokes at her until Lily lets out a groan.
"Don't wanna wake up yet..." she mumbles almost incoherently. Amity sighs and pulls out her wand, flicking it up.
Lily flies up, hanging in the air, suspended by a sliver of invisible force wrapped like tendrils on her left ankle. Her eyes fly open and she glares at the perpetrator, who glares right back. "The hell are you doing, Amity!"
"Waking you up, you dolt. You've been passed out on your bed since morning!" Amity retorts indignantly, and with another swish Lily flops down back onto her bed. "I'll be going now, since you obviously don't want to talk to me. You've already been ignoring me for six months now; why would you change your mind now?"
Lily rolls her eyes and fists her hands in the warmth of the green covers.
"I mean, it's not like I'm your effing best friend or anything. Clearly our friendship means nothing to you," Amity hisses under her breath. "I'm about as use to you as a fucking bloody tampon!"
"Whatever, Amity. At least I'm fucking having fun with my life. Ever since that prank in Fifth Year, and ever since that stupid Howler, you've been acting uptight." Lily narrows her eyes just as Amity does.
"Potter, shut the fuck up," the blonde spins angrily on her heels and Lily listens to the pounding of her feet and the rush of blood in her head.
Lily loses everything by the time Sixth Year is over. Amity ceases to exist in Lily Luna Potter's mind, and then summer arrives like a mallet to the head.
On the last day Lily sweeps her belongings into her trunk, enlarged on the inside, and the chess pieces are stowed in a secret compartment on the inner lining of her trunk.
The chess pieces are there for a reason, were given for a reason – to help her in growing and to comfort her along the years and obviously serving as a reminder of the turquoise-haired man she tries too hard to wash away. She drags her trunk up the marble staircase – thump, thump, thump, thump – in the symphony of her light footsteps and loudly, lonely beating heart. She doesn't want to go home to the disappointed faces of Daddy and Mum, and her two elder brothers. She doesn't want to see the look of helplessness in Harry Potter's eyes, something far worse than anger, far worse than sadness, and far more potent. She doesn't want to see the creased lines of worry permanent on Ginny Potter's face and she doesn't want to hear her Mum's soft, slight sigh every time she sees her youngest child, her only daughter. She doesn't want to see James constantly shaking his head around her, casting shadows across both their faces and she wants her absolute favourite brother to speak to her again, like he used to. And Albus – Albus' emerald eyes so much like their father's just singe her and char her with the murderous, disgusted looks he sends her on daily basis.
As if they're even a family anymore.
As if any one of them loves her anymore.
She muses as she steps off the train and onto the platform, trunk in hand, whether it's Teddy's fault after all.
The first month of summer is absolutely torturous. Teddy has not gone to the house yet and Lily dreads the day he does (she calls it S-Day – Shit-what-the-fuck-do-I-do Day.) She doesn't want to see the emotions of all of her family members reflected in his changing eyes. She definitely doesn't want him to hand her the last parcel, the last present – the white queen.
When – if – she reprimands herself – if he comes she thinks shell just go screaming and running in the other direction. This is the first time she's seen him in years and years and years, and the thought hits her suddenly, clogging up her throat as the prickling burning sensation comes back again with hell to raise.
One summer evening when the sun has not yet set and a vague hazy radiance pans across the floor of her bedroom, Harry calls for her.
"Lily?" Lily remembers when her father used to just barge into her room unannounced, sweeping her off her feet and carrying her downstairs for dinner. Now he knocks, and he speaks quietly, and she can practically hear the almost-gray streaks in his hair. "Lily, it's time for dinner."
Lily with her back against the disarray of pillows and toes brushing against the wooden board at the bottom of the bed, enfolds a chess piece in her palm and throws it carelessly to the carpeted floor.
She tugs at the hem of her shorts down unconsciously, uncomfortably, and yanks a long sleeved, thankfully high-collared shirt over her t-shirt, covering it effectively. She listens carefully for her dad's voice again.
"Dinnertime, Lily. Come downstairs," says her dad a little more firmly.
"Coming, alright?" Lily pulls her hair into a tight ponytail and flings open the door. "Relax."
Striding past her dad with a chess piece hastily stuffed in her pocket, she pretends not to notice his crumpled expression.
Boiled potatoes and steak and green peas. She pushes the peas around her plate with her fork, making faces on her plate and staring down so she won't catch any of their eyes.
"Lily, eat," her mum says firmly, catching her daughter's eyes finally, a flicker of barely registered anger passing through Ginny Potter's hazel eyes. "Lily, eat your food!"
Rolling her eyes, Lily lifts her napkin from her lap, crumples it in her hand and throws it down on the table defiantly. With a loud squeak she pushes the wooden chair back, scraping it against the wood of the floor and deliberately leaving white scratches.
"Lily Potter!" her mum cries indignantly, standing up as well and slamming her fork onto the table. "Where do you think you're going?"
"To my room, where I can sit without being glared at by any of you!" Lily half-yells. Albus sits in his chair and raises his eyebrows at Lily. Thankfully James isn't here tonight and is instead working late hours in the Department.
"Lily, what the hell's been going on with you?" Ginny retorts. "How'd you become...this?"
"Simple, Mum," she says viciously. "Everyone stopped. Just stopped. Teddy left, and I was alone."
She stomps up the stairs, red ponytail angrily getting pulled out by nimble fingers as they meet knots and tangles and as she slams her bedroom door behind her she lets out a frustrated shriek.
"Lily?"Albus' deep voice sounds through the door. "Lily. Open the door."
"No," she replies childishly, tears beginning to well up again after hearing her brother's voice.
"God, are you crying? You've been like a fucking water fountain lately, it seems," he says sarcastically. Lily almost grins at that.
"Who told you that?" she replies somewhat reluctantly, somewhat curiously.
"Amity."
The sound of her best friend's name anguishes her. She has spent the last few months hating her, forgetting her, filling her mind with poisonous thoughts but it seems once someone says her name, the hurt and the hate seem to wash away.
There is silence and Albus speaks up.
"She misses you, Amity does," he says quietly though the door. "She's been telling me."
She shakes her head to herself, wetness on her cheeks.
"She really does, Lily."
She flings open the door and pulls Albus in for a hug, her head barely brushing his shoulders.
"Thanks, Al," she says almost incoherently. He nods, ruffles her hair and leaves, stuffing his hands into his pockets as his brotherly duties are done for the day.
She shuts her bedroom door behind her and looks for a window.
Minutes later she is perched on the darkened roof of her house, gazing up at the sky as it proceeds to burn into blackness around her. She pulls the chess piece out of her pocket – the black queen – and fingers it in her hands, running the tips over the cool smooth marble.
She holds in between her index finger and thumb, twirling it expertly.
She flings it into the garden in a high arch, watches as it sails through the air openly and lands with a gentle sound of marble meets earth. And she climbs back through the window, unsmiling.
"Look, obviously she isn't doing very well! Let me talk to her!" a masculine voice shouts, muffled under her floorboards. Her heart leaps to her throat and her heartbeat increases tenfold and then slows to the slow croak of a frog in one second, but then she realises it's James.
"She'll just push you away," says her father quietly, so quietly she almost doesn't hear him, but then she hears a loud stomping noise and thirty seconds later a thunderous banging on her door.
She glances at her clock, which reads three-oh-four AM, groans and turns over on the bed. She rolls off the bed with a thump and a grumble, and the groggily opens the door.
James shakes her, hard. "Lily, wake up!"
"I'm awake, you great big prat," she says sleepily, leaning her head on his shoulder as she lets herself get shaken in a fashion similar to one of a rag doll's, and falls back onto her bed.
"Albus tells me you've been crying an awful lot lately," he announces with a flourish, cocking an eyebrow at his baby sister. Albus' voice echoes from the room next door.
"I told you not to tell her I said it, idiot!"
James rolls his eyes and waves a hand in the general direction of Al's room. "Yeah, yeah."
He turns back to his sister, all signs of mirth having vanished from the planes of his face. "Mind telling me what's been going on, orang-utan? I'll kill it for you."
"It's stupid, James."
"I still want to hear it." He stretches out on her bed and gives her an appraising look as she glares.
"Couldn't have cared sooner, eh?" she scowls and it dents her pretty features. He cringes, but she continues. "I'm lost. I'm lost and I can't find my way back home."
He stares confusedly at her, scratching his forehead. "Lily, you're at home."
She slaps him. "Not here, you prat! Merlin, don't you have a poetic bone in your fuckin' body?" She thros her hands up in frustration. "I can't find my way back to me."
"What're you going on about?"
"James, honestly, for someone who's considered best Auror in the department, you sure are thick." She pinches the bridge of her nose and squeezes her eyes shut. "I don't know who I am anymore. The Lily I used to be with Ted's chess pieces and orangutan-girl and Amity's best friend, is gone. And I don't know what to do about it."
He blinks. "Is that all?"
She stares at him sullenly.
James barks out a laugh. "That's it, then! That's really all it is?"
For a second Lily looks hurt, before her exterior freezes into the same icy Lily she's been since she stopped talking to Teddy, and then she yanks the bed covers and leaves James rolling to the floor.
"Oi! Lily, that's not what I meant." He picks himself off the ground. "I meant – I changed too, orangutan. People change; it's a part of life. You'll get over it."
The girl swings her legs under the covers and scoffs. "I'm also not eating, by the way. Oh, and I'm a god damn slut and I sleep around, and I blow up at everyone and everything, and I'm a downright bitch."
She buries her head under the covers and turns away from James so he won't see the shininess of her eyes.
Eventually the part of the bed that sags down as he sits evens out and the lights turn off, and the door shuts with a click.
Victoire comes over one day to see her. Her face is full of triumph as if yeah, you were his best friend and you were cute, but you weren't enough and not my fault you stopped writing him, not my fault you couldn't care enough and on her hip is a beautiful rosy-cheeked newbown. There's two other kids around five and seven trailing after her and a toddler around four in a stroller.
She thinks they must fuck a lot.
Victoire is cool and quiet, and says thing only when being spoken to, yet somehow comes off as a polite and lovely person (to her parents, at least.) She lets Lily carry her newborn and all the while Lily wonders what it'd be like if she were ever in Vic's place, and all the while Lily ponders everything. Then she sobers up and wonders why all of a sudden Teddy's eating away at her mind again.
She really isn't jealous of Victoire, nor does she care that Victoire's rubbing in her victory, because to Lily this had never been a competition to begin with.
All she wanted was her best friend – one friend – she just wanted to see him in the summers and breaks of First, Second, and Third Year misery, but he never came.
He never came, and so she dwindled down to almost no letters and eventually lost him, forgot him.
Because the last time she'd thought of Teddy in a romantic way was way back when she was eight or nine or something, and that's when she'd thought he was her knight in shining armour and had ludicrous ideas of fantastical fairytale endings. She'd barely thought of it even then and when she'd had stupid assumptions of what the meaning of love was (fact: she still doesn't know now) and even now she does not want to jump in a bed with him and make multiple Metamorphogus-werewolf-orangutan (personality-wise, at least for orangutan) babies.
She just misses having him there is all. (Because he was always, even when no one else was. And she needs him now more than ever.)
A different chess piece gets thrown at a potted plant that night.
One day she realises she doesn't even know how to play chess. She stares at the pieces on her nightstand, lying in bed with the left side of her face pressed into a pillow.
Well, she deduces thoughtfully, grabbing the white knight, it can't be much fun. Honestly it looks like something rich snobs would play.
With that thought she tosses it into a trashcan.
The evening in July Teddy comes for dinner Lily conveniently has plans. It's her father's birthday and she gets up early to wish him a good one and to present him with a bottle of men's cologne, some new reading material (How to Express Your Feelings Without Yelling, 101), a tie with a Snitch stitched into it and a strategically places black bishop in the box.
She calls out a quick goodbye and heads out into the rain, strolling down the street in a bright orange, highlighter-coloured windbreaker (some long ago present of Uncle Ron's) that clashes terribly with her hair.
Perching down on a swing in an empty playground, she tries to recall the location of a neighbouring zoo.
When she arrives at the entrance, blinking at the statues of elephants and plastic plants, the Muggle asks her gruffly if she'd like a ticket and she pulls out a couple of pounds to make the transaction. By the time she buys her ticket and makes her way to the Primate exhibit, there's just an hour and a half till closing time, and that is enough.
She walks into a brightly coloured room painted turquoise, and walks slowly over to the glass, pressing her fingers into the clear hardness. A little boy nearby chatters animatedly to his mother, his voice echoing distantly, impossibly cheerful in her head. She listens to his mother's reply, a tranquil, gentle voice like petals on a flower, and sits down on a bench.
She watches the orangutan in its glass prison and knows it must feel lonely, stifled. It drags itself by its arms around its glass cage, a blanket draped over its head as it scratches its head absentmindedly.
She swallows with her hands folded neatly in her lap, a stinging sensation in her eyes. The orangutan looks up with dark, clear eyes, burnt red fur covering its body. She smiles at it before it turns away and makes its way to the poorly-fashioned hammock, in between two small, leafy trees.
Sometimes it's easy and she weaves her way through life, her friends falling well behind and boys running amok as they try to gain and keep her attention (which, with Lily Luna Potter, is practically impossible.)
And most of the time it's not. Most of the time the brokenness runs its course through her veins and the poison etches itself deep in her crystal heart and she has this deep-pitted desire for friends, for someone who'll stay around longer than a day, a week. There had only been two people of the sort; the first of which being Teddy – which had quite obviously backfired. The second had been Amity and that hadn't worked out too well either.
It wasn't even either of their faults; really, Lily only likes to pretend it was – just so she can spare herself the new feeling of guilt. Lily observes the orangutan with renewed eyes, and sits there until the boy with his rainbow-coloured cap and his mother with the voice like slippery soap on wet skin leave, abandoning her with empty thoughts.
When they leave, she pulls her wand – cherry, dragon heartstring – out of her boot, mulling over her thoughts as she weaves it expertly through the empty spaces between her fingers. In the end it clatters to the floor, the clatter forcing a sigh out of her lips. She picks it up and stuffs it back into her boot, the moment lost.
She presses her fingers to the glass again, ghosting over the surface for a moment, before leaving the exhibit with a profound heart and hands jammed hastily in her pockets.
a/n: next chapter should be up soon!
please don't favourite without reviewing!