Disclaimer: If Harry Potter were mine, than I would probably have nice awards shows to go to instead of sitting here writing this trash.
Umm. Radiohead kicks ass. Go find a concert and see them live; spastic dancing and swooshy hair and all. Anyways, I got betas and they are incredible; most improvements belong to their sharp and very smart eyes! Dame Niamh, Miss Phantasm, and Katharina- I owe you a mountain load of gratitude!! As always, reviews are much appreciated, and my replies are at the bottom. If you want on my mailing list for updates, email me at amariran@yahoo.com, or tell me in your review(!!). And if anyone here followed the WIKTT discussion about feedback and reviews, I am of the opinion that anything, no matter how harsh, is good. French translations are down at the bottom. Thanks, and I hope y'all enjoy this chapter.
A Little Help From My Friends
Severus was NOT amused. Well, all right, perhaps he was, but he was damned if he would show that he, in any way, shape, or form, found Harry Potter's puppy dog eyes humorous. And no, that was most certainly not a smile tugging at his lips. A smirk, perhaps, at the ridiculousness of the situation.
"Oh, give me a break, Potter. You don't truly expect me to believe that you, having just gotten back from your honeymoon, actually want me to…how is it that you put it…'go out, loosen up, have some fun?' With you? On a Saturday night?"
"Oh, quit trying to give me the old, 'I have a bloody huge stick up my arse' routine, Snape," Harry chided affectionately, dropping the innocent pleading act the second he sensed it wasn't going to get him the result he wanted. Harry, after all, was practicing to be a politician. And he really did want the man to come with him tonight.
O, what a manipulator of Fate was Albus Dumbledore, with his decision to leave Snape as Headmaster, and to entrust Harry to stay involved in the politics of the British magickal world! Having somehow become friends with one of the men he had most hated during his childhood, the Boy Who Had Continually Kicked Voldemort's Sorry Arse found himself drawn to check in on the man's welfare- and current information proved it not well. Although Snape was performing his duties with his accustomed perfection, Harry had it on good faith from Lupin that the man was neither sleeping nor eating properly. There was something eating at the Slytherin, and Harry was hell-bent on finding it out. And if it took a night away from his darling Mireille (Harry had to fight hard to keep a fatuous grin off of his face at the thought of his brand new bride), a night where he would get Snape to relax, even if he had to get him drunk to do it, then by the gods he would do it!
Half the evening later, when Severus was on his third Dirkley's Drink for the Discriminating, (a rather disturbing looking beverage that Harry had never seen anyone else drink) he finally began to loosen up a bit, especially his tongue. The drink fascinated Harry almost as much as the words tumbling with unaccustomed ease from the man's lips. The bottle was made of a scary, shiny black glass and contained a clear liquid with occasional sporadic flashes of light darting around in it. Harry, at first believing the man to be a 'chick drink' man (honestly, what type of a man's drink was clear?), had asked for a sip, but that single taste infused him with nothing but awe for a man able to suck down even as much as a single bottle. He was discovering, in fact, that he liked this sarcastic git more and more as he got to know him. But that didn't stop him from wishing that his friends weren't quite so damned stubborn.
Once he got buzzed enough ("I do not get drunk in public, Potter, and you would do well to keep that in mind before you even attempt to ply me with drinks in a pathetic attempt to get me to talk about 'my feelings'"),Snape told Harry some very interesting things. Things he wished a certain brown-haired former Gryffindor Head Girl could hear…but he had no idea where she was, and she would never believe it unless she heard it from Snape, who would probably rather be seen wearing a shiny tiara in a pink bubble bath with a yellow rubber ducky than tell her. (It might be noted here that Mr. Potter himself had no such qualms as Snape did about getting drunk in public).
Hmm. Well, it presented a pretty problem, Potter thought as he swung by Hogwarts, seeing his friend to the door, then continuing on to his waiting wife. He picked up the pace to get outside the Anti-Apparation wards with pretty thoughts of his own in his head, which was now cleared up, before he tried to Apparate. His immense gratitude went to a well-prepared Sober-Up thrown at him by a glaring Snape before they had left this evening with the evil assurance that it was just nasty-tasting enough to work properly.
***
Hermione felt her chapped lips make contact with Edouard's soft mouth and she sighed in contentment, closing her eyes and toying with a silky strand of his hair as the kiss became heavier. Hermione, however, having not done very much kissing in her life, was rather surprised when the kiss became sloppy, and then a probing tongue sought entrance to her mouth. Still, she surrendered, and they sat there on the sofa and snogged for a bit longer. Then they broke apart, releasing all contact from each other, and stared with wide eyes.
"Wow," Edouard said softly.
"Yeah…wow…" Hermione echoed in the same tone.
A silence fell over the room, awkward this time, a bulky pregnancy from all the things that neither was able to articulate. Finally, Edouard scraped up the courage to continue. He stroked her hair gently and turned her face so that her eyes had nowhere to go but his, and he smiled at her reassuringly.
"So…friends, then?"
"I think that being just friends sounds really nice." Hermione smiled back at him, and his own expression was washed with relief.
"Good, as I rather think that neither of us wants to subject ourselves to that experience again." His casual, friendly words and accompanying lighthearted air chased away the sadness that had been all too ready to settle down on Hermione, and she gave a giggle, snuggling closer to him. He let his arm drift around her in a cuddle…a very, very brotherly cuddle.
***
True, Hermione had a lot of explaining to do when she got back to her flat, where a furious employer lay in wait for her. Eldrich was less than pleased to have just missed out on a night's worth of the profits that her dancing always brought him. But Hermione wasn't the brilliant witch her schoolteachers had proclaimed her to be without there being a kernel of truth to it, and she wove a story around him so skillfully that he didn't question her actions again. If there had been a little bit of magick in that story that had urged him into believing it, well, the Ministry didn't have any rules against it, did they?
Having averted the crisis and finally gotten rid of her provoked boss, Hermione gazed around her small, ugly apartment, wishing nothing more than to send it up in flames. But in lieu of that, she supposed she would have to settle with getting as much sleep as she could. After all, she had big entrance tests in just four days. She drifted off to as peaceful a sleep as she ever got in the place.
The rest of the days until one of the biggest and most exhausting proceedings of Hermione's life passed in such a blur that she could hardly have said what she did or who she talked to. She knew that she did her jobs and got her money and met Edouard for dinner every night. Frankly, they were both sick of empty apartments, and he had discovered her shameful lack of cooking ability. As a result, he was forcing her to learn in the small, friendly kitchen of his apartment, but other than a few cooking lessons which stuck in her mind, everything was a blurred mess of images and words and sounds that culminated in a disturbingly sudden clear-headedness upon opening the door of the examinations room…
***
"It's called a colander, Hermione, a colander. Mon Dieu… Are you telling me you never even watched ta mère cook pasta?"
"Well…I was busy with the chemistry set my father bought me, or reading a book, or…"
"I see. Well, you will never be able to survive at college unless you know how to make something other than sandwiches, because you will be far too busy…far too busy to stop over here for dinner every night…" They had ended the conversation soon after that, both occupied by trying to salvage the nearly ruined spaghetti and unwilling to discuss their imminent separation when she had a busier schedule that she actually cared about.
They had grown incredibly close in the past few days, both realizing that they had needed a friend more than anything. Well, she wouldn't start college until the middle of September, even if she did get in, and so there was no real use in worrying about it now. All they could do was throw themselves into the time that they had, and become as close as possible.
***
So here she was, sitting at an old wooden table, in the midst of a cavernous room, working on the written part of her examination for Salem. She had Madrid later in the day, then Beijing and Alexandria, and then on Friday, the most exclusive and difficult exams of all- Stonehenge and Oxford. She couldn't afford to worry about future tests now or else she wouldn't make it into any University at all. Hermione attacked this test with the same tenacity with which she performed all of her other tasks, and was the first one finished with it- though only by around two minutes. She was smart, yes, but there were others who were just about as smart who were competing with her for the selective openings. In truth, the Salem written exams were considered something of a joke in the University circles; the college placed rather a low value on how well their theoretical students could do on theoretical problems, one of the reasons the school was last on Hermione's rated list.
As she waited for her practical examiner to enter the room, she caught sight of her own set face in the mirror on the opposite side of the room. Luckily, the mirror was not inclined to speak, aside from the perfunctory greeting she had received upon entering the room. She supposed that the only reason it was enchanted was to prevent cheating of any sort before the exam could begin; magickal mirrors were wonderful tools in more than just the obvious ways.
Her reflection, with its deep blue eyes and coffee-colored, slightly wavy hair, stared back at her. The girl not only looked different from Hermione Granger- both forms of her, that was- but spoke in a far more calculated, even drawling manner, as though she weighed each word carefully before she spoke. It was as far from Hermione's usual hurried and almost brassy tone as she could get without seeming too obvious.
Calypso walked differently too; she swayed on her high heels as though the world had nothing better to do than sit up and take notice, but it was more self-assured than slutty. She'd had enough of that, she rather thought. It was time for a change, although she had been careful not to make her alter ego too different from herself, deciding to keep most of her physical characteristics and mannerisms the same. She was smart enough to realize that it was going to be damned hard to live such a lie even without adding to the burden. But this was a necessary action; she had thought it out very clearly and carefully that night on Edouard's couch. Speaking of Edouard, she failed to suppress a little giggle as thoughts of last night passed through her mind…
***
A firm tapping at his door informed him of a visitor, and a quick glance at the clock on his wall informed him that Hermione was late. There was not enough magick used in the flat to prevent Muggle devices from working and he took full advantage of that fact, indulging in some of the more useful pieces of nonmagickal technology. He peered through the eyehole to see who was calling at dinnertime.
A short brunette stood there, looking up at the small hole in the door with an amused expression on her face. Heavy evening makeup adorned her clear blue eyes. He had never seen the woman in his life. He put the wizard's lock on his door before opening it; the Muggle chain would do absolutely nothing to block a curse or hex sent with a slim wand, but the form of protection he had bought at Le Champs-Elysees Magique was invisible to the eyes and reflected most magick directed at it. It was good only for a few curses, with the understanding that in that time the person could at least close the door.
"Bonjour, est-ce que je peux vous aider? » he asked kindly, but allowing his confusion to show clearly.
"Ah, peut-être. Vous étés Edouard De Criste, n'est-ce pas ? »
« Ah, oui, c'est ma nom, mais qui étés vous, mademoiselle ? »
« Hermione Granger m'envoi faire vous une commission, » she responded in a careful, measured way. Although still quite puzzled, Edouard nodded and took down both barriers, allowing her entrance to his rooms. He watched her speculatively as she walked in with confidence, a slight swagger to her walk, drawing attention, tastefully, to her pretty high heels. Hmm, she was even shorter than she looked, then. He was even more bemused when she appeared to know her way around his living room, not stopping to take it in the way most people do in an unfamiliar area. He started to form an idea when the woman stopped a couple of feet from him and turned around so that she was directly facing him. He found it a bit strange that he was not put off by this alarming proximity with a stranger, and his far-fetched thought began to seem a little more realistic, but she spoke, interrupting and confusing his train of thought.
"Voulez-vous entendre la commission, maintenant? » she asked.
« Bien sur, » he replied.
« Elle m'ordonne dire qu'elle aime vous duper ! » And with that, Hermione gave a shrieking giggle and launched herself at the wide-eyed man in front of her, knocking him flat, and proceeding to tickle him into a mindless state of gasps and semi-coherent pleadings for her to 'arête, arête!' which she, naturally, did not heed until she herself was too out of breath to continue. As Edouard struggled to get his breath back, Hermione, or more accurately, Calypso, set her own self in order.
Eventually Edouard slid out from beneath his friend and sat back on his heels to fully observe the transformation. Slowly, she stood up, self-conscious in spite of herself, because she really cared about his opinion. At an imperious wave of his hand, she twirled around gracefully like a fashion model showing off the latest collection of the season and was surprised at how pleased she felt when he clapped and smiled in approbation. He stood up and hugged her tightly.
"It's wonderful, 'Mione, and it will work well for you." Here he took a step back and looked her straight in the eyes. "But it isn't you, and it never will be." Then, since they were both feeling the pressure of dozens of other things that needed to be said but couldn't be, he turned the mood light again with some joke about her cooking that she couldn't even recall. But she did remember, with perfect clarity, how his eyes looked into her own when he told her that Calypso Anastasia wasn't really her.
She hadn't realized how absorbed she was in her thoughts until she was startled out of them by a firm closing of the door of the examination room. Hermione immediately redirected her attention to her examiner, trying to read her as deeply as she could without being too obvious.
The woman was tall, with a beehive hairdo that was probably never in style in the Muggle world, even when it had been 'in style', but then, Hermione was hardly an expert on fashion for any time period or community. However, Hermione felt she was justified in her revulsion for the examiner's robes. They were very…wooshy, for lack of a better term in her moment of sudden nervousness, and a sparkly lime green that should be outlawed, especially since the woman had dyed her hair to match. Black commando boots were probably not the wisest choice to finish the ensemble. Hermione concluded her cursory inspection of the woman with a shrug, for what did it really matter that her assessor was fashion-challenged? What mattered were the things in her eyes. It was really too bad, though, that they were hardly any nicer that her outfit. A sort of slithery look, much like the slippery looking material her robes were made of, lurked in her eyes, and a hard set to her mouth assured Hermione that this would be no easy exam. A sugared venom voice inquired if Calypso was ready to begin yet, and with a deep breath and a glance in the mirror, she was able to say "Yes," with such cool assurance in her voice it made the woman sitting snootily opposite her to change her manner to be just a little more polite. Thus her rounds of exams truly began.
***
"Non, non, mademoiselle, j'insiste."
"Come on, Edouard, not only is it completely unnecessary, but any place that requires you to transfigure me into an outfit like this has got to be far more expensive than I'm willing to let you spend. Besides, what the hell is open this late? Why don't we just have a nice dinner at your apartment, if you absolutely must celebrate my finishing these exams?"
"Parce que, ma chérie, you will insist on helping somehow, and I wish to be eating something edible tonight," was his dry reply as he stood patiently, still offering his arm as he had been since he had greeted her outside of the bar after her act was finished. He had respected her request that he never set foot inside when she was working. She had been tired and wearing her old sweats, and had almost forgotten that today had been the last of her exams. As she was about to wearily Apparate to his house, on his standing invitation for company, even with the strange hours that she kept, she had been ambushed with numerous transfigurations. She now stood teetering on high heels, wearing a pretty blue summery dress, and adorned with jewelry and a handbag to match. She had to admit, with an amused glance down at her outfit, that the man had good taste. Still, she couldn't let him do this, he had already done so much for her. "Secondly, I can well afford a single dinner out even if it is a bit pricey, and thirdly, we are going into wizarding Paris, the restaurants of which are open even later than those in its Muggle counterpart. Timing is not a problem, unless you make us miss our reservations, allez." He finally gave up on his gentlemanly gesture and just tugged on her arm, finally succeeding in wearing her down enough so that she relaxed and he could Apparate them both to the restaurant.
***
Soft lighting, quiet music, and the fresh flowers in crystal vases that stood on pristine starched tablecloths confirmed the type of place this was, just as much as the snooty maître d' and menus that didn't reveal the prices. Hermione tried to glare at the handsome man across the table, but his cheeky grin and adorably perfect fitting black suit were too much for her feeble resistance- to this man, anyways. She grinned and reached across the fine linen to squeeze his hand in gratitude for this time out. He well knew how much she needed it. It amused her to think that anyone observing them would probably assume that they were a loving couple, out for an anniversary dinner, perhaps. Her mind created a stupid, fanciful image that she knew would never come to pass. Severus Snape, of all people, sitting across from her just as Edouard was, in just this position, except that there was far more than friendship in their gazes. She was unaware that she uttered a little wistful sigh, but Edouard was not in an observant mood.
"So, who is he?"
"Hmm?" Caught unawares and embarrassed, Hermione tried to be nonchalant.
"Oh, don't try to put me off. I can tell that you were thinking of a man, and I want to know who it was!" He ended his sentence in a whiny, I-Want-The-Toy-Mommy way, his face screwed up to mimic a little boy in the midst of a tantrum. Laughing at his silliness, Hermione pulled her hand from his and gave him a female version of his own mockery.
"Only if you tell me who you were thinking about last night." Edouard dropped his face into its normal set at these words, despite their playful tone.
"I told you, I was just tired. It was after one in the morning, after all."
"Um-hmm," Hermione agreed skeptically, but she wouldn't press her point if he didn't press his, and the conversation ended with a stalemate and soon turned to other topics.
Later that night, (early Saturday morning)eHermHerm Hermione and Edouard took a leisurely stroll in the balmy summer air of Paris. Hermione wanted to see more of the magickal part of the city, for she had only visited the muggle parts of the country when on vacation with her parents, entire summers for a few years, which is where she had learned the language so well. She found it exhilarating and wonderful to walk along without fearing that anyone would recognize her from the papers, or from a smoky stage. She was Calypso Anastasia, a soon-to-be college student, on the brink of an exciting new life, strolling along with one of her best friends.
"Her name is Amandine. I never thought that I had a type, but if I did, then I know for certain that she would be the antithesis of it. True, she is razor sharp smart, but she never speaks at our office meetings, and I only know how intelligent she is by her reports. She wears sweater sets- of all things- even in this heat. They're light things, now, in pretty, soft, pastel colours that match her pretty, soft eyes…" Edouard trailed off in thought for a moment, and a none too gentle nudge in the ribs thanks to Hermione soon had him speaking again. "And she has blond hair, only you can tell that it really is brown, mouse brown, and it's a little strange because she isn't the sort of person that one would think would dye it and…in short, if you hadn't guessed already…I think I'm smitten." He smiled tentatively and turned to his best friend, who was leaning on a lamppost beside him, listening thoughtfully to all of his words.
"What's her last name?"
"Basquette."
"Where does she eat at lunch?"
"She always has a brown paper bag lunch that she probably packs at home, I've see her carrying it into work alone with her briefcase. She eats alone in her cubicle even though everyone else either eats in the staff room or goes out." Cubicles in the Ministère de Magique resembled the tents Hermione had seen during the World Quidditch Cup, although there were still limits and regulations.
"Who are her friends in the office? She doesn't like that awful Margot, does she?"
"No, she doesn't. In fact, she doesn't have any real friends in the office, so far as I can tell. Hermione, I love you dearly, but what the hell does this have to do with anything?" The only response he received was a wave of her hand, a shake of her head, and another question.
"What did she say, and most important, how did she act, the last time you spoke to her?"
"I've never said more than "Hello" to her, and never gotten more than a hurried nod before she scurried off. That's the whole problem, don't you see? She's so painfully shy, it feels as though trying to start up a conversation with her would send her into a coma from fear. I don't know how to deal with it."
"Ahhh," Hermione replied to his dramatic ranting.
"AHHHH?" he mocked her. "Ahhh? Is that all you can say?"
"Mmmm."
"Mmmm? What do you mean by that? It sounds as though you mean something by that."
"Edouard's got it b-a-d, Edouard's got it b-a-d," Hermione chanted in a childish, sing-songy way. She delighted in the way his cute little ears started to turn red, but was not so happy when he swung towards her, his heart in his eyes. She sobered immediately. Well, sort of. She didn't have any potion on her, and they had imbibed rather too much wine over dinner, and then still more over the sumptuous desert they had indulged in. But all of her faculties were in complete…workingness? Working…working order! She was only a bit inebriated, but even so, she was not sure how to deal with the situation. She put a calming hand on her friend's arm, and looked into his eyes to let him know that she was thinking about it.
This was bad. Her sociable, if occasionally over-dignified, friend was in love with a woman who, by his account, was fair afraid of her shadow. "Mmmm," really was the best response. Hermione used all of her feminine powers of Deduction and Sneaky Love Warfare Plotting to come up with a plan, but even then she didn't think much of it. Still, it was better than nothing.
"Okay. Start slowly. Make sure that you are there when she gets in to work every day, but do endeavor not to look like a stalker, dear. Give her a friendly greeting, and position yourself in such a way that she has to give you some sort of verbal communication, but again, don't trap her. Make sure you put yourself in her way whenever she ventures out of her office. Just start getting her used to your presence. How does it sound so far?" Hermione looked up at her friend, a little anxious. It wasn't often that she was asked for advice on love life, recently, at least. She had been quite a busybody during parts of her seventh year with Harry and Ron.
"It sounds like something that can be done. I don't know why the baby steps approach never occurred to me. I kept imagining walking up to her out of the blue one day and asking her for coffee and having her faint dead away or something from being spoken to so much. I feel like an idiot."
"Oh, it's fine to feel like what you are, sweetheart," Hermione said mockingly, and was immediately forced to duck away from the joking smack thrown her way by Edouard. They walked back to an alley marked "For Apparation" in a fit of giggles and teasing punches fueled by alcohol, night air, and one of the headiest elements of all; friendship.
FRENCH TRANSLATIONS:
Mon Dieu: My God------------
ta mere: your mother---------------
Bonjour, est-ce que je peux vous aider : Hello, can I help you ?---------
Ah, peut-être. Vous étés Edouard De Criste, n'est-ce pas ? : Ah, perhaps. You are Edouard De Criste, correct ? ------------------
Ah, oui, c'est ma nom, mais qui étés vous, mademoiselle ?: Ah, yes, that is my name, but who are you, miss ? ---------
Hermione Granger m'envoi faire vous une commission:Hermione Granger sent me to give you a message ------------
Voulez-vous entendre la commission, maintenant? : Would you like to hear it now ? -----------
Bien sur : Of course---------
Elle m'ordonne dire qu'elle aime vous duper ! : She tole me to tell you that she likes to trick you ! -------
arête, arête : Stop, Stop !--------
Non, non, mademoiselle, j'insiste : No, no, miss, I insist -------------
Parce que, ma chérie: Because, my dear
Allez: Let's go
I really appreciate all those who take the time to review, whether it be just a couple of words telling me you read, or better yet, a list of improvements- and the muses enjoy all feedback as well. Hope you liked this chapter, thanks for reading it. To those who reviewed last chapter:
MadAboutHarry : yeah, sorry about that, this one is at least a bit more timely. That's my thinking, but as you can see, Edouard has a place in her life, but not Snape's. Thank you; and yes, that is what I have decided to do about canon. I love your feedback as always!
Pineapple: Thank you so incredibly much for your help in that correction; I feel really stupid, and changed it as soon as you told me about it! As you can see, Hermione is not going to have sex with Edouard ;). Much gratitude, again.
Blue Quartz: Cliffhanger? Sorry, I didn't think it was too much of one! Thanks for the encouragement.
Tesa1: Wow, what a reaction! I hope that, eventually, I will answer all your questions. Snape isn't helping her because at the moment, it really isn't his job, or even his business, for that matter. She needs to get her own self out of this, its important to any future relationships she has. And yes, I did promise it will be SS/HG and eventually, it will be. I hope my notification got to you. Thanks a ton, and I am very glad that you enjoyed it so much!!!
HunnySnowBunny: Ah, as much as I love Snape, a big part of the story is his NOT helping her, because she needs to become an independent woman in her won right. I hope I haven't lost you on that- he will be a part of her life, eventually though! Thanks for the feedback.
Madeleine Jete: Yeah, I have an interesting thing to the identity thing, and I need to write it and see how it plays out. Ah, thanks, I am going to, as another reader suggested, just make sure that it is in cannon from now on. Oh, I know, things always come during the busiest times. For instance, instead of getting rest for tomorrow's tennis match, or doing my summer reading (school starts in three days) I am doing this. I changed sodded, having realized it made little sense, so thank you. Thank you- I really appreciate that you tell me specifically what you like, it makes me happy, and allows me to concentrate on things. I also changed the translation, so thanks again:). Oh, and I feel very lucky that you take the time out of your busy schedule to read and review- its so nice to hear from you! Oh, gosh, that sounds like an awesome job! I don't think I've ever been to Maine, but coolness might be a blessing where I am; although we've had a lot of rain. Middle of east Coast, eh? Perhaps not to far from me then, hehe. Oh, good luck with the upcoming year, and sympathies about the scheduling. Hope you like this chapter; since its been beta'ed I hope that it's a bit better than usual.
Leah: Interesting email address *grin*. Thanks for the praise, and hope you still enjoy this.
Mizuki Ashiya: I'm sorry, I should have emailed you after getting this message- I hope you read this- where did Severus appear? Review or email me, and I will clear it up for you! Yeah, I'm sorry about my propensity ofr long author's notes…I tried to make this one shorter, though!
Orenda1: Ah, thanks!
Janet: You dweeb! Yeah, my betas caught a couple of run-ons! And sorry, but no, Edouard isn't your brother… Thanks for the compliment, hehe. "They were seen hi-jacking someone's car…" Radiohead, though, is prob. On your mind at the mo. WOOHOO! Their concert rocked.
Tracey Claybon: well, there wasn't too much to regret, really, hehe. MM, when do you mean, did Snape not recognize her? At the wedding? No, he did, and I thought I explained that; he was just too..him to get involved. If it was something else, please contact me with a more specific question and I would love to answer it. Glad you like it; thanks, and hope this one is interesting too.