Seasonal Suffering

Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Harry Potter, except for one copy of each of the three movies and one copy of each of the five books (My roommate, on the other hand, has everything from cardboard cutouts, to movie theater posters, to kites, to games and legos and bedding and clothes). Everything else belongs to J.K. Rowling, and the WB Movie people (and everyone else who owns bits of HP that I'm missing-that's Harry Potter, not Hit Points).

Notes: "I wish you a Merry Christmas, I wish you a Merry Christmas, I wish you a merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!" I hope you all did have a merry Christmas, though I'm a little late to be wishing such. Still, it's the thought that counts, right? So! My dearest beloved and faithful readers! I have been amiss in my authorial duties once again (Can we say, craziest semester of my life? And straight A's? Sorry guys and dolls, straight A's=little writing time). This chapter's rather short, as I warned it would be, partially because it's fairly plotless, though not pointless, as without it chapter ten would be mysteriously disconnected from the rest of the story. Silly though it is, this chapter is vital to the plot. Read and enjoy, and then review!

Chapter Nine: Poor Prefect

It was breakfast time at Hogwarts and Hermione was already in a bad mood. Worse, she was downright incensed.

First, she had woken up at five this morning, after staying up late to study the night before. Then she was unable to fall asleep because of the raging headache she'd had yesterday that had apparently decided to stick around an extra day, so now she had a migraine and was running on three and a half hours of sleep. That alone was irritating (and painful) enough, but on top of that, something had gone wrong with the hot water charm in their bathroom and she'd been forced to take a cold shower (migraine + ice cold water = major pain) so that now her head was literally throbbing.

After her icy shower, her favorite skirt (the longest one; sometimes she felt so indecent wearing school uniforms, regardless of the fact that they wore robes over them) had split a seam when she tried to zip it up (she wasn't even allowing herself to think about the implications of that!) so she had defiantly put on jeans under her school robes instead and rolled up the bottoms so no one could tell. Then, after studying for the extra hour and a half her early waking had given her, she'd lifted her bookbag and somehow managed to knock over her inkwell with it, accidentally spilling her practical blue ink (none of that shimmery pink stuff for Hermione, thank you!) all across the Transfiguration essay that was due today, and that she hadn't time to rewrite before class. Just thinking about it made her scowl; why couldn't that have happened at the beginning of her study time, then she would have rewritten it with time to spare.

As if that wasn't enough, she'd tripped on the hem of her robe after climbing out of the portrait hole, and Ron and Harry had laughed hysterically like it was the funniest thing they'd ever seen. She'd been so surprised and hurt by their reaction (pride is always more easily damaged on a bad day) that she hadn't even bothered to stand. If Colin hadn't come through a few seconds later and offered her a hand up, she'd probably still be sitting on the floor in the corridor outside Gryffindor tower. Bless you Colin Creevey. Finally, the icing on the cake, her socks were mismatched, and of course five people so far had noticed and pointed it out to her, every one of them giggling behind their hands.

That's right, go ahead and laugh. Hermione isn't perfectly dressed; she has mismatched socks. I hope you all choke on your toast.

She took a bite of her own toast, and glowered into her cup of pumpkin juice. This is ridiculous. There was a bug in her juice. Of course there was a bug in her juice. She couldn't possibly have something go right today could she? The worst part was that it was only eight in the morning. She still had the whole day to live through, and all she really wanted to do was go curl up under the covers in bed. In bed in the dark, she thought, wincing as the light continued to hurt her migraine sensitive eyes. Let's add to my "bad things today" list the fact that the infirmary doesn't open for regular use until eight-thirty, which is the time my first class begins, so I won't have time to visit Madam Pomfrey until three-thirty this afternoon..

Just then there was a feathery, fluttering and flapping sound, and Hermione half smiled in anticipation. Okay, day, here's your chance to redeem yourself. She watched the owls fly in, looking hopefully for a certain package she was expecting…

Nope. Of course not, she thought to herself, several minutes later. Of course it wouldn't get here today. From the corner of her eye she caught Ron giving her a look of mixed curiosity and displeasure. She arched an eyebrow in question, but he just scowled into his mug of hot…whatever-it-was-he-was-drinking. She could see the steam, but hadn't been paying enough attention when he poured it to notice the nature of the mug's contents. She sighed as Ron became very involved in an early morning debate over the best way to block some curse or other. She watched him a bit longer then shook her head and turned back to picking at her breakfast.

Hermione was getting frustrated. It had been a month since Valentine's Day, and, much as she'd hoped after the events of that day (and his unusual treatment of her), that he might actually fancy her, absolutely nothing had happened. That indicated a lack of interest on his part, but even assuming that wasn't the case, and he did fancy her, she suspected he would need an excuse to admit it to her. Something like a holiday! But Valentine's Day was come and gone. It was only March! There wasn't anything at all romantic about March. The only holiday in March was St. Patrick's Day, a completely useless holiday ruled by the Slytherins, in which everyone had to wear some visible article of clothing in their representative color or risk harassment from the monarchs of all that was green. Of course, harassment from the Slytherins occurred everyday, but it doubled on St. Patrick's Day. Useless, utterly. The next, even remotely romantic holiday, then, was Halloween. She supposed there was something kind of sweet about dressing up in costumes and going to parties, but Hogwarts didn't celebrate that way, and Ron was unlikely to see it as a good enough excuse anyway. She could think of no other.

So, what then? Do I wait for the next Valentine's Day? Sigh. He probably doesn't even fancy me anyway. Oh, my head hurts.

Frowning unhappily, she got up from her seat and picked up a Danish from one of the many platters in front of her, glad at least that they were serving raspberry today. No other kind had those pretty sugar sprinkles on top, and they were her favorites. She pulled her bag onto her shoulder and went back to thinking about Ron, vaguely noticing he and Harry had already left for class. Without her. She shook her head.

Really; nothing since Valentine's Day.

Not even a hug or an affectionate glance. No inexplicable flirting, no quality time… she was going mad trying to figure the boy out. Or maybe she was just going mad. She considered this as she walked down the hall on her way to class - I must be mad, taking advanced transfiguration when I knew class was this early in the morning – and added to her list of bad day things the fact that it was a Monday. She hated Mondays. Absently, she took a bite of her Danish…and almost spit it across the hall. Struggling mightily against the disgusting impulse, she chewed quickly and swallowed, then ducked into the nearby bathroom where she threw the Danish on the counter and rinsed her mouth out with water from the tap. Several times. When she was done, she straightened her clothing, pushed her hair behind her ears and glared imperiously at the offending Danish.

"You're not raspberry."

The Danish just sat there.

"You're not even normal."

No reply.

Hermione lifted the pastry with thumb and forefinger and tossed it into the bathroom trashcan. It burped. Hands on her hips, she looked at the charmed object disdainfully.

"How can you eat that thing?" she asked it, as if she hadn't been the one to toss the disgusting food item in without asking first. The trashcan just sighed happily. She rolled her eyes and headed off to class once more.

"Honestly. Coconut. Who likes coconut? It's not even a real fruit. Real fruit doesn't come in hard cases; it certainly doesn't have fur. And real fruit doesn't have milk, it has juice." She entered the Transfiguration classroom and took her usual seat between Ron and Harry, still muttering to herself. "And even if it were a real fruit, who in their right mind would make a coconut breakfast Danish? And then disguise it as a raspberry Danish? That's just…wrong."

"Er…You all right there Hermione?"

She looked up, right into Harry's amusement filled green eyes. "What?"

"I asked if you were all right. You were muttering to yourself about Danishes and coconuts. That's a little odd, if you ask me."

"I didn't, Harry."

"I don't know mate. I think she might be losing it," Ron agreed, leaning over Hermione with his elbow on her desk to get a look at Harry past her head. "After all, who talks about Danishes and coconuts together?"

"You would if you were expecting raspberry instead," Hermione told him bitterly. Both boys stared at her as she pouted down at her desk, and Harry shook his head.

"You're right, Ron, she's losing it." She felt her answering glare only fitting, but Harry was no longer paying attention. In fact, if she didn't know better, she'd say he was being very careful to look at anything but her. Her eyes narrowed dangerously at his profile.

"I hate you."

He didn't even blink. Hermione glared some more, sighed, and realized this was getting her nowhere. She stared at her desk, wondering what to do now, and thinking that McGonagall was unusually late this morning. Of course, that was when the professor herself breezed into the room, looking hurried and rather annoyed.

"Speak of the devil…" she muttered absently.

Oh sure, now Harry looked her. Stupid, arrogant boy…always amused at something, and she could never figure out why.

"I hate you," she repeated for his benefit. His smirk only widened.

"Good morning class," Professor McGonagall greeted as she reached the front of the room. "I apologize for my tardiness; my presence was necessary elsewhere, due to the serious lack of judgment of several of my students." She gazed piercingly around the room, as if to say she hoped none of them had known of the implied misbehavior prior to its execution then turned to the desk behind her. With a wave of her wand and a loud incantation, the whole thing was transformed into a living breathing pot-bellied pig.

"Everyone, find a partner," their professor called. "Today we are going to apply the spell we learned last Friday. By the end of class you must successfully transfigure your desk into a pig. Points will be awarded according to the appropriate characteristics, and deducted, obviously, for inaccurate size, shape, coloring and any remaining drawers or drawer-knobs. Please begin now."

From the corner of her eye, Hermione saw that Harry was already paired with Seamus, as per usual. She, of course, turned to Ron, mouth already open to begin discussion on proper wand swishing technique when she suddenly noticed Rom already had a partner. A Ravenclaw partner. A pretty Ravenclaw partner. She gaped at the back of his head for several seconds while her mind processed what was happening. She always partnered with Ron in Transfiguration. The three of them had discussed it, and it had been obvious to all of them that it was Ron who most needed Hermione's help in this class. Harry did just fine if he worked with Dean or Seamus, but this was Ron's second most difficult subject. He needed her.

Obviously not.

"Hey, Hermione, I guess it's just you and me, huh?"

She stared at Neville in incomprehension. Then realization suddenly dawned on her, and she mentally winced. Not Neville…He's likely to turn me into a pig! Still, he was a nice boy; she genuinely liked him, and she knew most people groaned at having to work with him. So she stood up, smiled and said, "Absolutely. Let's begin with the wand movement…Now when you say the incantation, remember to lift your elbow just so, so that the…"

Very patiently she proceeded to explain the whole process to him thoroughly, knowing he'd have forgotten last week's lesson. At least someone wanted her help, and she was determined that she should give it to him.

Nearly two hours later at the end of a very long class period, Hermione let out a soft but happy cheer as Neville's desk joined her own in sniffing about the room for food in any form. She grabbed the boy up in an excited hug, still exclaiming happily.

"That was wonderful, Neville, spot on!" she told him, grinning like a maniac as she watched the only two completely transfigured desks trot passed Harry's feet (and similarly his pig-desk, which looked like a pig except that it had retained it's desk-feet) towards the pen where the Professor had put a trough for them earlier in the period. The boy grinned shyly back at her.

"Thank you, Hermione. I could never have done it right without you."

She smiled at him gently. "Oh sure you could, Neville, it just might have taken you a bit longer." He looked like he was about to answer, but just then McGonagall asked that those who had not already done so, please turn in their pig desk now so that she could grade them, and then promptly dismissed class. Hermione made her way out the door and down the hallway without waiting for her friends, but she soon realized it was too much to hope that they wouldn't catch up. Harry reached her first.

"Hermione." She ignored him and kept walking, not because she was angry at him, but because she knew if she stopped, he would apologize, and she'd say it was okay because she liked Neville, and it's not like Harry could have known it would happen, then Ron would catch up and say something stupid and they'd fight… She really didn't want to go through all that.

Mostly she didn't want to fight with Ron. It wasn't any fun…and her head hurt enough as it was.

Unfortunately, Harry didn't seem to appreciate being ignored. When she continued anyway, he gently grabbed her arm and pulled her to a stop.

"Look, Hermione, I just wanted to apologize."

"There's no need, Harry."

He looked concerned. "Are you sure, because if I'd known Ron was going to-"

She waved him off, pulling her arm from his grip and turning away. "Harry, there's no way you could have known," she told him, only slightly exasperated. She started walking again and he followed. "Besides, I don't mind working with Neville. He's sweet."

"Sweet?" Ron's voice rang in her ears as he came up beside them. "Hermione, he's a joke! Couldn't perform a spell correctly to save his life."

"Funny, Ron," she replied mildly, "I don't recall seeing your pig back there. But then, maybe I misunderstood the assignment. I thought she said pig, but maybe she really said furry desk with a tail." Hermione cocked her head at him curiously. "Tell me, Ronald, was it supposed to turn that funny puce color?"

Ron made a wordless sound of frustration. "He could never have done it without you, Hermione."

"Yes, but he could do it with me," she told him pointedly, and strode past him down the hall.

"So could I!" he called after her.

"I think the point, mate, is that you didn't," Harry told him, and hurried to catch up to their friend.

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Hermione was tired. She had been tired before, but this went beyond tired, this was tired. Something about the combination of no sleep, migraines and bad days seemed to be three times as draining on energy reserves as normal days. At least in Transfiguration she'd been moving around; doing something. Sitting still though, she had discovered, was very dangerous when tired. She yawned (for the fifth time in as many minutes) and tried to focus again on what Professor Binns was saying. A minute later her head jerked as she started to fall asleep, and she scowled at the quill in her hand, whose movement had had the duty of keeping her awake. Obviously simply taking notes wasn't going to work. Not that Professor Binns would notice if she fell asleep, but really, if she slept, who was going to take notes? Ron and Harry would definitely fail if she didn't take notes for them to copy later (though she was reconsidering letting Ron have them now), not to mention the effect her lack of study materials would have on her hard won grade. No! She must stay awake!

Determined, Hermione began to count the number of cracks in the podium her professor used in his lectures (not that he needed it). She was not going to fall asleep if it killed her!

Which was why Hermione was so surprised when she suddenly found herself on the floor. After a bit of disorientation, Hermione realized she must have fallen asleep after all. But when she didn't wake up at that realization, she came to the sudden conclusion that she was actually awake, and that the fall from her desk had woken her.

Which meant that she really had fallen asleep.

And she really had fallen from her desk.

And she really had screamed.

And the class really was laughing at her.

Ron really was laughing at her. So hard he might fall out of his desk.

Harry already had.

And she really was blushing.

And none of this was going to go away.

She covered her face with her hands.

"Miss Granger, are you all right?"

"Yes, Professor," she replied, voice muffled by her hands.

"Then please take your seat so that we may continue with our lesson."

"Yes, Professor," she sighed, pulling herself from the floor and back into her chair.

"Now, as I was saying, the vampire uprising of 1462 caused the attention of muggles to focus once again on the existence of supernatural beings other than witches and wizards. The most notable case involved a vampire named Dracula, also known as Prince Vladislav Basarab, whose behavior attracted unparalleled attention, enough so that a muggle named Bram Stoker wrote a book about him centuries later…"

For the most part the class had quieted, but there were still a few repressed snorts here and there. Most notably from Harry and Ron. She glanced over and glared when she saw both boys wiping their eyes. Harry had a huge smudge of dirt and dust across his back from laying on the floor, and Ron's face was red. Both started laughing again every time they caught sight of her.

Just for that, she wasn't going to brush Harry's back off when class was over. Let him run around with dirt on his robes; that would teach him. And they could borrow someone else's notes too.

She was going to have to borrow someone else's notes.

With a sigh she attempted to record the rest of lesson, but, listening to the muffled giggling throughout the room (at her expense!), she knew it was a lost cause.

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"…kill them both, yes. Never mind that they're the best friends. What kind of best friends laugh? I laughed at the dirt on his back, but Ginny brushed it off. Why did she do that?"

Ginny subtly slanted a glance at the girl beside her, concerned. Hermione had been sitting there for the past ten minutes, mumbling to herself.

"And then there was the stupid stair. I'd kill that too, but it's not alive…"

As far as the red-head could make out, Hermione had embarrassed herself by falling asleep in class and falling out of her desk in the process. Then she had gotten her foot stuck in the sinking stair on the way down to lunch and Filch had had to come get her loose. The ever-dissatisfied handy-man/janitor had given her a detention tonight for his troubles. Finally, Dennis Creevey accidentally bumped his brother just as Hermione sat down beside him and she'd ended up with pumpkin juice on her robes (which had been quickly and magically cleaned, but that was beside the point).

At least, that's what Ginny thought had happened, but she wasn't quite sure. The way Harry and Ron were laughing hysterically while simultaneously trying to eat and talk, it was hard to tell. She shot another worried glance at Hermione, then elbowed her boyfriend. Startled, the laughing boy almost choked on his sandwich, but he eventually recovered and looked at her curiously. He was still grinning.

"I think maybe you should stop laughing now," she whispered. He snickered quietly and asked her why.

"Look at her, Harry," she replied. "She's mumbling about murder and laughing. I think it's time you knocked it off. An apology might not be out of place either. She's having a bad day, and the two of you aren't making it any easier."

Harry regarded his friend thoughtfully, but Ron just shook his head.

"She's had bad days before," he said. "She's not killed us yet."

"There's a first time for everything, you great prat," Ginny hissed. She stood up and glared irritably down at her brother. "I really hope she teaches you a thing or two when it finally happens. We all know no one deserves it more." The younger Weasley promptly left the Great Hall.

"Good going, Ron. Now you've gone and made Ginny angry." Harry started after his girlfriend.

Ron snorted. "Come on, Hermione," he muttered, hoping to catch up to Harry. "We're going to be late." He didn't wait to see if she heard him.

He should have.

Ten minutes later Hermione came out of her musings only to realize the room was nearly empty and she had exactly fifty seconds to get to her class, all the way down in the dungeons! Swiftly she rose from her seat and made her way along the many corridors leading to potions. Due to her great distress, she wasn't much watching where she was going, and she tripped over her own untied shoelaces in her hurry to get to class before much more time elapsed. She was startled enough by her sudden headlong plummet towards the stone floor of the corridor that she had no time to catch herself, which was bad enough in and of itself, but as it just so happened, Malfoy and his two lackeys were a little late for class themselves, and they just happened to be in the right place at the right time to witness her embarrassing little escapade.

"So. The mudblood's not only disgusting, she's stupid and clumsy too." Malfoy was quick as always to voice his disparaging thoughts out loud.

"Yeah, stupid and clumsy," echoed Crabbe.

"Shut up, Malfoy," Hermione glared from her place on the floor. She was considering just setting up shop right there on the ground; she was spending enough time there lately. Who walked nowadays anyway? And furniture? Please. That was so last year.

"Not filthy enough as it is, mudblood? You have to go rolling around on the floors now to get dirtier?"

"Shut up, Malfoy!" Angry now, she jumped to her feet.

Heedless, Malfoy persisted. "It's no wonder no one but a rodent and the king of toilets can stand to be around you. I mean, with that hair and those clothes, all covered in a thick layer of dirt and grime, what else can you-"

"I said, Shut Up!" And then she did something very rare for Hermione. She hexed him. Not just any hex, either. Ginny's beautiful, wonderful Bat Bogey Hex. Then she punched him. And she hexed him again. Several times, actually, just to be safe. Then she nailed Crabbe.

Goyle took off running.

Twenty minutes later she marched proudly into class, two more detentions and a subtraction of fifty points from Gryffindor under her belt, and haughtily took her seat. She easily ignored the quiet laughter and awed whispering, but it was harder not to notice that Ron never realized she'd been gone. Harry shot her a sympathetic look.

Her potion, just barely completed in the remaining thirty minutes of class, was perfect.

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Hermione descended the stairs from the girls' dormitories lost in thought with her half-empty book bag in hand. She had one class left, just one, and then this day would be over. The social part of it at least. That, combined with the lovely migraine potion Ginny had brought her from the infirmary just now had lightened her mood considerably. Already she could feel the throbbing ease.

I am going to buy that girl the nicest birthday gift this year. Ginny is my new best friend. So much nicer than the old ones. That being said, she glared pointedly first at Ron (newly returned from retrieving Pig from the owlery), then Harry, as she walked past them to the alcove where she had stored her schoolbooks and parchment for her study convenience. Just for good measure, she shot Ron one last glare over her shoulder before focusing on finding the half-filled roll of parchment that contained her current Care of Magical Creatures notes. She considered the stacks of books and parchment that filled the alcove to overflowing and decided this was not a problem. She still had twenty minutes left to get to class, that was plenty of time to find her stupid notes in this mess. Luckily for her, the parchment she was looking for was only the eleventh she checked, and she crowed triumphantly as she shoved it in her bag and strode confidently from the alcove…straight into a wall.

"Ow!" she yelped, clutching her head in her hands. "Oh, ow! OW!"

Ron, who had been attempting to catch Pig when she walked into the wall, was now staring at her instead. "Did you just walk into the wall?"

"Ow!" said Hermione.

Ron looked at a stunned Harry. "She just walked into a wall." Then he grinned, furiously scribbled something onto the end of his letter, and snatched his wayward owl from the air. "Home, Pig. Straight home." He flung the owl, letter attached, out the window and grumbled after him, "useless piece of cat fodder." He resumed his chair and then his smile. "That'll make for some interesting conversation around the table this summer."

Hermione, who caught the tail end of Ron's frantic attempts to send his letter, now stared at Ron. "Ronald," she said, one hand still rubbing her forehead and the other fisted firmly on her hip, "please tell me you did not just write about this in your letter."

Ron looked up at her. "Then I'd be lying, Hermione. I'd hate to have to lie to you."

"Who did you send that to, Ron?" She demanded, disbelief etched on her face.

"Just my mum," he replied.

"Ronald!" she screeched, mortified. If Mrs. Weasley knew, all the Weasleys would know too. That included the twins. Inwardly, she groaned. Note to self: avoid all contact with Fred and George for at least ten years.

Outwardly, she glared. "We cannot be friends right now, Ronald," and she stalked from the room.

Ron looked at Harry. "What's with her today? She was the one who walked into the wall!"

Out in the corridor, as Hermione continued to stomp her way to Hagrid's cabin, one thought stood out in her throbbing mind: So much for that migraine potion.

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Hermione trudged back to the castle after her last class of the day, still in pain and feeling rather more than disgruntled. Ron and Harry walked just ahead of her, talking animatedly about the Golden Snidget Hagrid had received special permission to show them in Care of Magical Creatures. Hermione was trying hard not to think about it. She'd gotten an answer wrong in class for the first time in, well… she didn't know. A very long time, anyway. She just knew she'd never hear the end of it.

She sighed as they made it to the entrance hall, and came to the realization that she wasn't very hungry. Still she thought she might try to eat, if only because she had so much still to do today.

Stupid detentions.

"And then Hermione got an answer wrong. We couldn't hardly believe it!"

"She what?"

Hermione glanced over to see Harry and Ron relating the details of the afternoon to a very interested Ginny Weasley and scowled. Great, she snorted. It was starting already. And with her best friends, too.

"Yeah," added Harry, "and then in potions earlier, she was half an hour late because she had a fight with Malfoy in the corridor and-"

"She what?" Ron exclaimed. Hermione, rolled her eyes.

I don't want to deal with this. She made her way towards the staircase.

"Fifty points, two detentions and a fight with Malfoy on top of the missing homework, the falling asleep in class, the wrong answer, the pumpkin juice and the wall?" Ginny clarified.

"I know. Hermione never slacks off like this. I don't even know what to think."

"She hexed Malfoy." Ron shook his head in awe. "She answered a question wrong. She hexed Malfoy."

Maybe I'll at least get some sleep before I have to serve detention. Maybe my headache will go away. Yeah. And maybe Hagrid will actually bake something edible. She silently started up the stairs to Gryffindor tower, trying to keep herself from hexing Ron.

The sight of her hasty escape attempt was apparently enough to quell Ron's shock. "Hermione, aren't you coming down to dinner?"

Wordlessly, Hermione growled and continued stalking up the stairs.

"Hermione," the deep voice sounded concerned. She couldn't help herself; she turned around.

"Dinner?'

"No thank you, Ronald." And she walked up the stairs to her room.

This has been a terrible day.

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And that's chapter nine! Only two chapters left to go (for those of you who are wondering). Such sadness and joy combined! For those of you who haven't already (meaning those of you who made a beeline for the Seasonal Suffering update and passed it by) go check out my new little one-shot, Brotherly Love. It's so cute, I love sibling moments! Also, much thanks goes out to my dearest friend, Gratia. It was to her that the "run into the wall" scene actually happened (yes, really, only it was her dad, not an I-wish-he-were-my-boyfriend; and a telephone, not a letter) and without her that scene would be sadly missing from my narrative. That said, I am going to go post this, and get back to work on chapter ten, which was once chapter nine, but was rearranged, and so, hopefully is almost done (I know, the excitement is almost unendurable). Until then!