Behold! The beautiful Bella Swan. A mere 16 years of age, she is nevertheless above the age of consent, in addition to being remarkably clever and holding four Bachelor of Arts degrees from leading accredited liberal arts universities. She has solved Fermat's Last Theorem (six hours before that other chappy who made the news or something); she has invented an entirely new type of cake; and yet... she has not found love.

She tossed her long, honey-golden hair over her shoulder and sighed, unhappiness filling her wide, sparkling amaranthine eyes. Her husband. Edward "Neddington" Dracul III, was by her side at an instant, his glistening pectorals awash in sympathy. "Beloved! What causes you to sigh out those delicious cupcake-scented breaths?"

"I have not found love," she said with the beautiful simplicity for which millions adored her in her role as Little Orphan Annie in a recent Broadway revival.

"But darling! I thought you loved me!" Neddington's bloodless face sparkled grievously.

Bella wrapped her long, slender arms around him swiftly, silencing him with kisses. The kisses tasted like Jolly Ranchers. "Oh, my sweet husband, I do love you! I have not found the /chemical formula/ for love," she clarified.

At once Neddington's woeful appearance smoothed over, like when you are out boating and you see dark clouds on the horizon and think it is going to rain so you turn the boat around and row back to shore and pack up all your picnic things and head to the cabin but no sooner have you finished all this work than the sun comes back out. "Well, then, you should go back to school."

"I shall," said Bella rapturously. "I shall go to the best school in the world. I shall go to Hogwarts, and speak with Snape, the potions master."