Chapter 4: Devotion
~*~
"Are you ready to procede, Mr. Malfoy?"
/I was ready, but not for this./
I nodded. The hate was gone from the jury's eyes, now. It had been replaced by disgustion, and pity.
/I'm beyond all help, now.../
"Very well. Court is back in session."
/It hurts.../
"Mr. Malfoy, could you please relate to the court what happened on the day of December the 12th?"
/12... The devil's number.... My number.../
I didn't answer at first, looking past him, wondering how I would be able to speak.
/It's like a movie, playing over and over in my mind.../
"Mr. Malfoy, you will oblige the court by answering the question."
/I can't hear over the screams.../
"What do you want to know?"
/I could tell you, but you wouldn't believe me.../
"Everything that happened on the 12th, Mr. Malfoy." He repeated. He sounded annoyed. I didn't care.
/I gave up on caring.../
*
"I'm dissapointed in you, Draco. I had counted on you to stop him." His voise was harsh, cutting. My body wanted to shake, but I overpowered my fear. If the Dark Lord sensed it, he would pounce.
"Obviously, my trust was misplaced." He hissed, continuing. "You are very lucky, Draco, that today is the day of our attack. Otherwise your punshiment would have lasted much longer."
I shut my eyes unwillingly in anticipation.
"Crucio!"
The pain was unlike any other. It was complete. Unbearable. I could feel my mind shutting down to block it out, but it wasn't working. I was screaming, a soundless, silent, endless scream, and hope was slipping away...
Suddenly, it stopped. I collapsed upon the floor, dragging in ragged gulps or air. I stared at the stone tiles, wondering in a silent haze where they were from.
"Get up." The voice was harsh - cruel. This was the power I had chosen to serve. My Lord was my brother... He had said I was his brother...
I got up slowly, smoldering. He had tried to break me. But I was his brother, I was his equal. Rebellion burned in my eyes.
The Dark Lord frowned when I stood, his eyes locking with my own. He saw it. He saw the rebellion.
"My Lord..." It was my father, stepping just inside the door. He looked at me, a glance of uncaring and disgust. I mimicked the look back at him.
"The attack is ready, my Lord." He continued, "It awaits your command." His voice was silky and low: the voice I had tried to duplicate my entire life. I looked at him with blank eyes; it was hard to think.
"Very well. I am coming. Teach your son a lesson, Lucius, and then join me." The Dark Lord swept out of the room and we were alone.
"That was very stupid of you, Draco."
The words stung. My father alway had a way of hurting me without lifting a finger. I didn't reply.
"But what to do with you? I suppose you'll have some sense knocked into you during the attack, but..." His cane seemed to come from nowhere - up his sleeve. That dark mahogany cane with the silver snake glaring at me from on top of it. It whipped at me like a flash, already across my face before I could see it. The skin stung, and I felt a single drop of blood fall onto my lips.
My father never beat me. It made me angry to hear whispers and rumors of how he did; how he beat me into submission. He'd only ever actually hit me once before in my life. I wasn't abused, wasn't a tortured soul. His tongue was sharper than any whip, anyway.
"I disown you."
The words hurt more than the blow did, though the blow had left the iron taste of blood in my mouth. I couldn't look him in the eye.
"This is the last straw, Draco. No Malfoy gives up with the ease that you have done. Perhaps I will be lucky, and watch you die in the battle. Then I might find an heir that at least has some of the Malfoy honour."
He stalked out of the room, more gliding than walking, in that eerie sub-human way of his.
I thought that I loved him. He was my father, and that was natural, wasn't it? But the Dark Lord had been right. I didn't love anyone. And not even my father loved me.
*
I paused, looking at the others in the court room. It was eerily silent, all eyes plastered upon my cheeks. At least I wasn't crying, this time.
/I've used up all my tears.../
Someone got up and whispered something into the judges ear, as I looked on with blank eyes. The whisper was harsh.
/Blow, blood, hate - My fogotten soul is built with this.../
"Jury is dismissed for a short recess until they reach their verdict."
/Not to hell, not to hell... /
The jury filed out, and I sat, staring at the floor.
/I am in purgatory, and the only way out is down./
They came back, what seemed like hours later, filing in with unreadable faces.
/I have seen birds fall dead from the sky.../
"Guilty."
/I have seen the snake drown in it's own blood.../
"You, Draco Malfoy, will therefore spend a life sentence in Azkaban. This court is adjurned."
/And now I drown in my own.../
*
It was instinct, at this point. The years upon years of fencing lessons where showing they're worth. I was fighting, killing, without having to think about what I was doing. I didn't want to think.
It was a mess. Wizards and witches alike chopping and hexing eachother to pieces, all humanity lost in the bloodbath of war. I could only see a few feet from my face, and even then it seemed like a whirring, horrible dream. Blood was in my hair, on my robes. I must have been hurt, but I didn't feel it. And I was screaming, but I didn't hear it. I merely cut and sliced, chopped and killed. It was a simple exsistance. I seemed to be moving in slow motion, one second seeming like two. I could see the blow coming down to detach me from my arm, but it took so long to bring my arm up to block it, just as it took so long for the blow to connect. It was an eerie, loud and bloody dance, with no up or down, and no ally save yourself.
There were fully grown men sitting on the ground, weeping with their insides in their laps. Children were screaming and people died all around me, but I didn't really notice.
I'd never been in battle before. It shocked me - to the core. I had this vision of glory and victory, but neither was to be found here. This place was death, and only death, and I did not know whether it would be mine or not.
The pain was incredible, when it struck, the dagger lodging deeply into my leg. I looked around, blood stinging my eyes, calling out threats with a hate that I didn't feel. I never found him. My leg hurt, but it was dim, as if the pain wasn't mine. I tore the dagger from my skin, muttering a simple healing spell as I did so. It didn't fully work, but I was already screaming with my sword and didn't stop to look.
There was a sudden lull in the battle around me, until I noticed that I was the only one left. There was more fighting elsewhere, and without even stopping to think, I ran forwards. There was a flash of black, a bloodstained sword, and a familiar voice crying out before me. It was Snape, fighting with a ferocity I never knew he possessed. I felt a sudden pang in my chest, of what I wasn't sure, only I knew it was something I'd never really felt before. Sympathy, I realised later. With a sudden knowing, I realised why he did what he did. He had seen through it before I did. And he was the better man for acting on it. While I only sat and watched.
My mouth was open to scream, but I was too late. A flash of green, and Snape was on the ground, eyes hollow and staring into oblivion. I screamed with sudden rage, turning on his killer, to recognize at once the tall, eerie wizard with his wand raised. I lunged forward with my sword, diving into him, not thinking and not caring about what I was doing. The sword slipped through him like it would water, the blood soaking my arms until my elbows, splashing over my front. I screamed in rage and horror and desperation before I withdrew my sword and left my father to die upon the already blood-soaked ground.
And then it hit me. A wave of sorrow. Of guilt. Of fear. I had killed him. I had killed my father. There was no hope left. I belonged to neither side now. I was alone, alone in a battle which I should not have been fighting.
But there he was, standing just behind me as I turned around. A body with a face that I could not place at his feet. His hair dripped with his own sweat, blood trickling from a cut across the side of his face. His sword lay idle in his hand, his robes torn and dirty. His green eyes were locked with my own grey ones, and he had a look of utter sorrow. I, however, just felt tired. Tired and done. He stepped towards me cautiously, but I made no move. Then he broke into a run, to drop himself at Snape's side.
"Who did this?" There was no hate, just the same tired feeling that I knew I held as well.
"Him." I could not bring myself to say his name, so merely pointed in the direction of my father. Harry looked at him, then at me, at my sword, and back at me again.
"You...?"
"Yes."
Harry leaned forward and closed Snape's eyes, grasping the cold hand around Snape's sword and pushing it to the dead man's breast. He kissed the corpse lightly upon the forhead, then stood. I didn't move.
"Why?" He asked finally, still looking at Snape.
I opened my mouth, but found I could not say his name either. "I understand, now." I said instead.
Harry let out a long sigh, his hands and shoulders shivering. He looked - vulnerable. Beaten. I watched him in silence, my stomahe slowly turning to lead, and my throat closing up. I had wished him death, a million times, but now I could hardly look at him. I suppose I could not have dreamed up a worse hell than this. And now that I had brought him here, I wished to Merlin that I hadn't.
He turned, and walked towards me, stopping a foot from my face. The battle must have still been going on, but I wasn't paying attention. It had passed beyond us.
There were almost tears in his emerald eyes. Almost, but not quite. They searched my face, looking for something that I wished that I had, and supspected that I didn't.
"Is it done, then?" He whispered. He sounded like a child, yet looked like a man. It took all my willpower to stay still, to look at him in the eye, to keep all emotion from my face. This was how I survived.
But it didn't work.
My heart clentched within my chest, my throat closed until I couldn't breath, and my feet were like stones. But somehow, as if by some distant memory of something I'd never known, I knew what it was. Knew why I couldn't tear my eyes from his face. I knew without thinking, without any concious conclusion. I just knew. And there, admist the dying and the dead, the bloodied and the wounded, I leaned forward, and brushed my cold lips across his. It wasn't really a kiss. Just a brush. At least, that's what I told myself when I had realised what I had done. In horror, I stepped backwards.
I wanted to say something. Say anything. But I couldn't. The words just weren't there.
"Welcome back, Draco." His voice seemed faraway, distant, and it was broken. Cracked. I had never heard my name said like that. Never.
In that instant, it was as if someone had suddenly turned the battle on again. I could hear the screams which a minutes before had seemed like vague shadows. I was thrust back into the battle again, but this time it was different. When I raised my sword, I saw from the corner of my eye Harry raise his own. When I screamed my battle cry, it was mimicked by the man at my side. When I struck with my blade, it was to strike down someone going after him. When I blocked, it was to block the thrusts they gave towards him. I wasn't fighting for me anymore. I was fighting for him. And my spirit soared for it.
The battle seemed to be ending, because everyone was crowding towards one point, converging on an un-seen enemy. I went with them, screaming, with Harry at my side. We shoved our way through the milling battle, trying to get to the center. Flashes of green mixed with screams as my eyes fell on the Dark Lord, killing at least three people with one spell. I checked myself mid-step. This was not something to go towards.
But Harry trudged on, and raised his wand.
He spoke in a tounge I did not know, and I assumed from the wispy harsh quality of it that it was Parseltounge. The Dark Lord faced him, and began speaking back. Both held they're wands outraised at eachother, muttering and cursing in the language of snakes, and the wind began to whip about them.
/Kill.../ The wind seemed to say, /Kill.../
I didn't understand what happened, but the earth itself seemed to leap up around the Dark Lord. Huge snakes, made of what I could only see to be earth and dust, leapt up as well. They were hissing as they wrapped themselves around him, pulling him into the ground, teeth of the metal of the earth ripping him apart. With one last piercing scream, the earth swallowed up the Dark Lord, and all was silent.
And my brain switched off.
I couldn't move my hands, but they were moving.
I tried to speak, but instead I turned around.
I wanted to scream, but instead I lunged.
I wanted to die, but instead I killed.
I'm so sorry, Harry, I'm so sorry... It wasn't me... It wasn't me..
~*~
The cell was damp, and smelled of rot and Dementors. It smelled of Azkaban. It smelled of 'here'.
/'You're here.'/
I spun around. That wasn't my voice.
/'I thought that they'd send you here...'/
My heart stopped. Harry.
/'Hullo, Malfoy.'/
"Harry...." My voice cracked. "How... are you...?"
/'Alive? No, no, you did kill me.'/
I felt my heart break.
/But do not worry, for I do not blame you./
"Where are you?"
/'Here.'/
I looked, and there he was. A shadow against the wall. His green eyes misty, and almost grey. His dark hair somehow transparent. I fell to my knees, though couldn't remember the fall.
/'Oh, Draco, do not worry... You'll not have to suffer much longer...'/
"Take me with you." My voice cracked, and my eyes stung. I thought all my tears were gone, but apparently I was wrong. He smiled.
/'I am, Draco. Come...'/
He extended his arms, and I looked, unsure of what to do.
/'You'll be alright. This is it. Come with me.'/
I stood shakily, and walked forward. I was so close, and he was right there, and so real... So very real....
/'Come with me...'/
With a sob, I threw my arms around him, tearing my lungs with the pure ragged energy. "I love you." I managed to say, though pain filled my chest...
/'I love you too...'/
And I died.
~*~
Author's note:
Well, that's over and done with. Thanks for all the reviews, everyone. If anyone wants to beta it for my before I put it up on FictionAlley I'd be greatfull, so just email me at rogue1221@hotmail.com
Yours,
Daestwen.
*
~*~
"Are you ready to procede, Mr. Malfoy?"
/I was ready, but not for this./
I nodded. The hate was gone from the jury's eyes, now. It had been replaced by disgustion, and pity.
/I'm beyond all help, now.../
"Very well. Court is back in session."
/It hurts.../
"Mr. Malfoy, could you please relate to the court what happened on the day of December the 12th?"
/12... The devil's number.... My number.../
I didn't answer at first, looking past him, wondering how I would be able to speak.
/It's like a movie, playing over and over in my mind.../
"Mr. Malfoy, you will oblige the court by answering the question."
/I can't hear over the screams.../
"What do you want to know?"
/I could tell you, but you wouldn't believe me.../
"Everything that happened on the 12th, Mr. Malfoy." He repeated. He sounded annoyed. I didn't care.
/I gave up on caring.../
*
"I'm dissapointed in you, Draco. I had counted on you to stop him." His voise was harsh, cutting. My body wanted to shake, but I overpowered my fear. If the Dark Lord sensed it, he would pounce.
"Obviously, my trust was misplaced." He hissed, continuing. "You are very lucky, Draco, that today is the day of our attack. Otherwise your punshiment would have lasted much longer."
I shut my eyes unwillingly in anticipation.
"Crucio!"
The pain was unlike any other. It was complete. Unbearable. I could feel my mind shutting down to block it out, but it wasn't working. I was screaming, a soundless, silent, endless scream, and hope was slipping away...
Suddenly, it stopped. I collapsed upon the floor, dragging in ragged gulps or air. I stared at the stone tiles, wondering in a silent haze where they were from.
"Get up." The voice was harsh - cruel. This was the power I had chosen to serve. My Lord was my brother... He had said I was his brother...
I got up slowly, smoldering. He had tried to break me. But I was his brother, I was his equal. Rebellion burned in my eyes.
The Dark Lord frowned when I stood, his eyes locking with my own. He saw it. He saw the rebellion.
"My Lord..." It was my father, stepping just inside the door. He looked at me, a glance of uncaring and disgust. I mimicked the look back at him.
"The attack is ready, my Lord." He continued, "It awaits your command." His voice was silky and low: the voice I had tried to duplicate my entire life. I looked at him with blank eyes; it was hard to think.
"Very well. I am coming. Teach your son a lesson, Lucius, and then join me." The Dark Lord swept out of the room and we were alone.
"That was very stupid of you, Draco."
The words stung. My father alway had a way of hurting me without lifting a finger. I didn't reply.
"But what to do with you? I suppose you'll have some sense knocked into you during the attack, but..." His cane seemed to come from nowhere - up his sleeve. That dark mahogany cane with the silver snake glaring at me from on top of it. It whipped at me like a flash, already across my face before I could see it. The skin stung, and I felt a single drop of blood fall onto my lips.
My father never beat me. It made me angry to hear whispers and rumors of how he did; how he beat me into submission. He'd only ever actually hit me once before in my life. I wasn't abused, wasn't a tortured soul. His tongue was sharper than any whip, anyway.
"I disown you."
The words hurt more than the blow did, though the blow had left the iron taste of blood in my mouth. I couldn't look him in the eye.
"This is the last straw, Draco. No Malfoy gives up with the ease that you have done. Perhaps I will be lucky, and watch you die in the battle. Then I might find an heir that at least has some of the Malfoy honour."
He stalked out of the room, more gliding than walking, in that eerie sub-human way of his.
I thought that I loved him. He was my father, and that was natural, wasn't it? But the Dark Lord had been right. I didn't love anyone. And not even my father loved me.
*
I paused, looking at the others in the court room. It was eerily silent, all eyes plastered upon my cheeks. At least I wasn't crying, this time.
/I've used up all my tears.../
Someone got up and whispered something into the judges ear, as I looked on with blank eyes. The whisper was harsh.
/Blow, blood, hate - My fogotten soul is built with this.../
"Jury is dismissed for a short recess until they reach their verdict."
/Not to hell, not to hell... /
The jury filed out, and I sat, staring at the floor.
/I am in purgatory, and the only way out is down./
They came back, what seemed like hours later, filing in with unreadable faces.
/I have seen birds fall dead from the sky.../
"Guilty."
/I have seen the snake drown in it's own blood.../
"You, Draco Malfoy, will therefore spend a life sentence in Azkaban. This court is adjurned."
/And now I drown in my own.../
*
It was instinct, at this point. The years upon years of fencing lessons where showing they're worth. I was fighting, killing, without having to think about what I was doing. I didn't want to think.
It was a mess. Wizards and witches alike chopping and hexing eachother to pieces, all humanity lost in the bloodbath of war. I could only see a few feet from my face, and even then it seemed like a whirring, horrible dream. Blood was in my hair, on my robes. I must have been hurt, but I didn't feel it. And I was screaming, but I didn't hear it. I merely cut and sliced, chopped and killed. It was a simple exsistance. I seemed to be moving in slow motion, one second seeming like two. I could see the blow coming down to detach me from my arm, but it took so long to bring my arm up to block it, just as it took so long for the blow to connect. It was an eerie, loud and bloody dance, with no up or down, and no ally save yourself.
There were fully grown men sitting on the ground, weeping with their insides in their laps. Children were screaming and people died all around me, but I didn't really notice.
I'd never been in battle before. It shocked me - to the core. I had this vision of glory and victory, but neither was to be found here. This place was death, and only death, and I did not know whether it would be mine or not.
The pain was incredible, when it struck, the dagger lodging deeply into my leg. I looked around, blood stinging my eyes, calling out threats with a hate that I didn't feel. I never found him. My leg hurt, but it was dim, as if the pain wasn't mine. I tore the dagger from my skin, muttering a simple healing spell as I did so. It didn't fully work, but I was already screaming with my sword and didn't stop to look.
There was a sudden lull in the battle around me, until I noticed that I was the only one left. There was more fighting elsewhere, and without even stopping to think, I ran forwards. There was a flash of black, a bloodstained sword, and a familiar voice crying out before me. It was Snape, fighting with a ferocity I never knew he possessed. I felt a sudden pang in my chest, of what I wasn't sure, only I knew it was something I'd never really felt before. Sympathy, I realised later. With a sudden knowing, I realised why he did what he did. He had seen through it before I did. And he was the better man for acting on it. While I only sat and watched.
My mouth was open to scream, but I was too late. A flash of green, and Snape was on the ground, eyes hollow and staring into oblivion. I screamed with sudden rage, turning on his killer, to recognize at once the tall, eerie wizard with his wand raised. I lunged forward with my sword, diving into him, not thinking and not caring about what I was doing. The sword slipped through him like it would water, the blood soaking my arms until my elbows, splashing over my front. I screamed in rage and horror and desperation before I withdrew my sword and left my father to die upon the already blood-soaked ground.
And then it hit me. A wave of sorrow. Of guilt. Of fear. I had killed him. I had killed my father. There was no hope left. I belonged to neither side now. I was alone, alone in a battle which I should not have been fighting.
But there he was, standing just behind me as I turned around. A body with a face that I could not place at his feet. His hair dripped with his own sweat, blood trickling from a cut across the side of his face. His sword lay idle in his hand, his robes torn and dirty. His green eyes were locked with my own grey ones, and he had a look of utter sorrow. I, however, just felt tired. Tired and done. He stepped towards me cautiously, but I made no move. Then he broke into a run, to drop himself at Snape's side.
"Who did this?" There was no hate, just the same tired feeling that I knew I held as well.
"Him." I could not bring myself to say his name, so merely pointed in the direction of my father. Harry looked at him, then at me, at my sword, and back at me again.
"You...?"
"Yes."
Harry leaned forward and closed Snape's eyes, grasping the cold hand around Snape's sword and pushing it to the dead man's breast. He kissed the corpse lightly upon the forhead, then stood. I didn't move.
"Why?" He asked finally, still looking at Snape.
I opened my mouth, but found I could not say his name either. "I understand, now." I said instead.
Harry let out a long sigh, his hands and shoulders shivering. He looked - vulnerable. Beaten. I watched him in silence, my stomahe slowly turning to lead, and my throat closing up. I had wished him death, a million times, but now I could hardly look at him. I suppose I could not have dreamed up a worse hell than this. And now that I had brought him here, I wished to Merlin that I hadn't.
He turned, and walked towards me, stopping a foot from my face. The battle must have still been going on, but I wasn't paying attention. It had passed beyond us.
There were almost tears in his emerald eyes. Almost, but not quite. They searched my face, looking for something that I wished that I had, and supspected that I didn't.
"Is it done, then?" He whispered. He sounded like a child, yet looked like a man. It took all my willpower to stay still, to look at him in the eye, to keep all emotion from my face. This was how I survived.
But it didn't work.
My heart clentched within my chest, my throat closed until I couldn't breath, and my feet were like stones. But somehow, as if by some distant memory of something I'd never known, I knew what it was. Knew why I couldn't tear my eyes from his face. I knew without thinking, without any concious conclusion. I just knew. And there, admist the dying and the dead, the bloodied and the wounded, I leaned forward, and brushed my cold lips across his. It wasn't really a kiss. Just a brush. At least, that's what I told myself when I had realised what I had done. In horror, I stepped backwards.
I wanted to say something. Say anything. But I couldn't. The words just weren't there.
"Welcome back, Draco." His voice seemed faraway, distant, and it was broken. Cracked. I had never heard my name said like that. Never.
In that instant, it was as if someone had suddenly turned the battle on again. I could hear the screams which a minutes before had seemed like vague shadows. I was thrust back into the battle again, but this time it was different. When I raised my sword, I saw from the corner of my eye Harry raise his own. When I screamed my battle cry, it was mimicked by the man at my side. When I struck with my blade, it was to strike down someone going after him. When I blocked, it was to block the thrusts they gave towards him. I wasn't fighting for me anymore. I was fighting for him. And my spirit soared for it.
The battle seemed to be ending, because everyone was crowding towards one point, converging on an un-seen enemy. I went with them, screaming, with Harry at my side. We shoved our way through the milling battle, trying to get to the center. Flashes of green mixed with screams as my eyes fell on the Dark Lord, killing at least three people with one spell. I checked myself mid-step. This was not something to go towards.
But Harry trudged on, and raised his wand.
He spoke in a tounge I did not know, and I assumed from the wispy harsh quality of it that it was Parseltounge. The Dark Lord faced him, and began speaking back. Both held they're wands outraised at eachother, muttering and cursing in the language of snakes, and the wind began to whip about them.
/Kill.../ The wind seemed to say, /Kill.../
I didn't understand what happened, but the earth itself seemed to leap up around the Dark Lord. Huge snakes, made of what I could only see to be earth and dust, leapt up as well. They were hissing as they wrapped themselves around him, pulling him into the ground, teeth of the metal of the earth ripping him apart. With one last piercing scream, the earth swallowed up the Dark Lord, and all was silent.
And my brain switched off.
I couldn't move my hands, but they were moving.
I tried to speak, but instead I turned around.
I wanted to scream, but instead I lunged.
I wanted to die, but instead I killed.
I'm so sorry, Harry, I'm so sorry... It wasn't me... It wasn't me..
~*~
The cell was damp, and smelled of rot and Dementors. It smelled of Azkaban. It smelled of 'here'.
/'You're here.'/
I spun around. That wasn't my voice.
/'I thought that they'd send you here...'/
My heart stopped. Harry.
/'Hullo, Malfoy.'/
"Harry...." My voice cracked. "How... are you...?"
/'Alive? No, no, you did kill me.'/
I felt my heart break.
/But do not worry, for I do not blame you./
"Where are you?"
/'Here.'/
I looked, and there he was. A shadow against the wall. His green eyes misty, and almost grey. His dark hair somehow transparent. I fell to my knees, though couldn't remember the fall.
/'Oh, Draco, do not worry... You'll not have to suffer much longer...'/
"Take me with you." My voice cracked, and my eyes stung. I thought all my tears were gone, but apparently I was wrong. He smiled.
/'I am, Draco. Come...'/
He extended his arms, and I looked, unsure of what to do.
/'You'll be alright. This is it. Come with me.'/
I stood shakily, and walked forward. I was so close, and he was right there, and so real... So very real....
/'Come with me...'/
With a sob, I threw my arms around him, tearing my lungs with the pure ragged energy. "I love you." I managed to say, though pain filled my chest...
/'I love you too...'/
And I died.
~*~
Author's note:
Well, that's over and done with. Thanks for all the reviews, everyone. If anyone wants to beta it for my before I put it up on FictionAlley I'd be greatfull, so just email me at rogue1221@hotmail.com
Yours,
Daestwen.
*