Enchantress of the Day and Night

Kneazle

D/C: All characters belong to JK Rowling, Warner Bros., Scholastics, etc. Some ideas are taken from "Disney's Atlantis", and mostly my odd dreams. Most information that is for the covens is based on Wicca, Sweep by Cate Tiernan, The Dragon's Tapestry, The Prism Moon and The Taker's Key by Martine Bates, Circle of Three by Isobel Bird, and most clan information is from Sweep, Young Wizards Series by Diane Duane, and Daughters of the Moon by Lynne Ewing.

A/N: please note that this story is an AU and therefore, some characters MAY act out of character. They act according to their surroundings, or to the role they play, or to their history. ^_^. This story is also pure MIXED COUPLES, but I promise that it will end up H/Hr, for sure.

Summary: AU – In a world where witches and warlocks battle over slavery rights, where no sex is seen as an equal, a precious few gather to change the races' views before the war between the two escalate into something that could be the beginning – or end – of an era. Previously titled "Of Witches and Warlocks".

**~**

Chapter One

             The young woman gasped, panting heavily as she pushed some brush out of her face, looking back temporarily to make sure her little eleven-year-old daughter was still behind her.

            "Mummy, please, slow down!" cried the little girl, rubbing a dirty fist against her puffy red eyes. The young woman gasped, picking her daughter up and running faster than before, dodging a branch here and knocking one out of the way there. Her heart beat hard against her ribs, telling her, slow down, you cannot make it, slow down! She chose not to listen to it, forcing herself to move faster.

            Shouts came from behind; someone spotted them. "There they are! Get them!"

            The young woman sighed, surrendering. She jumped with agility over a thick, fallen log, tucking her young daughter into a little alcove in the trunk. "Hermione, promise me, no matter what that you'll not leave this place – that you'll stay quiet."

            "Mummy… where are you going? Let me come with you! Mummy!" cried the young girl.

            "Hermione!" whispered her mother, tears running down her face. "Promise me!! Promise me, Hermione! NOW!"

            Crying, Hermione nodded, rubbing her eyes. "I promise, I promise."

            "Remember who you are, who is doing this to us. Do not come after me, Hermione." Her mother sighed, looking up at the sound of hoofs. They were getting louder.

            "Mummy… I'm scared."

            "So am I, Hermione, so am I," murmured her mother, bringing her daughter close, one last time. She stroked and smoothed Hermione's fizzy yield-sign hair down. There were now shouts. Hermione's mother glanced up sharply, whispered once, "I love you," before dashing out from the log, running as fast as she could.

            Seconds later, there was a rumbling sounds as Hermione saw the bellies of horses fly overhead, landing smoothly on the ground, following her mother. Hermione went quiet, cowering in fear further into the alcove.

            Seconds later, she heard a scream, and the sound of metal and the smell of magick in the air. She could still see the residue her mother's magick made as she ran away. Crying quietly, Hermione lulled herself to sleep, someway knowing she'd never see her mother again.

            Ever.     

**-**

            "Hermione, are you listening to me?" demanded Minerva. Hermione looked up, blinking the memories away as Minerva McGonagall's face loomed in closely to hers.

            "Of course, Professor," replied Hermione.

            Minerva glared at her protégé and nodded. "Well, you better be, child! What happens when I die, eh? Who will lead our coven?"

            "I will," sighed Hermione. "Listen, I know what I'm suppose to do Minerva. But why would the warlocks come this far out of their beautiful forest territory to attack us here?"

            "Because they need us to provide them sons," began Minerva, "come on, Hermione, recite with me here… and because they…"

            "Because they steal our magick to make them stronger, because they believe females should be below them and be their slaves, and because," Hermione looked over at Minerva, who recited the last part with her.

            "Because they are men, and we are women. Enough said," they said together. Hermione sighed. "But it still makes no sense. Why should we have to hide here in old human buildings while they are free to run through the forests in the night? Why should we be cooped up in this horrid 'flat' as humans called it, while they sleep under the moon and stars? Oh, Minerva, how I wish our races were one!"

            Minerva's stern face melted into what resembled her youthful one. Wisps of black hair that were now salt-and-pepper fell over Minerva's blue eyes. "Child, I wish that were so, too." She sighed. "But I feel that it is beyond my lifetime… but maybe not outside yours. I am old, Hermione, and when I die I will need someone young to take me place."

            "Minerva," whispered Hermione.

            "Hermione, you are my student, the one I taught everything I knew to. You will take me place when I die. You will lead our coven to safety and to freedom."

            "I will, Minerva. I promise," said Hermione, glancing down at her right arm, where the gold arm bracelet rested, the witches' pentacle engraved in silver on it. Minerva followed her gaze, and with renewed energy, grasped Hermione's hands.

            "Hermione," she said, staring directly into Hermione's eyes. "That bracelet you wear lets all other witches out there know your magick level. They will all respect you. You have high command and power once I am dead. Ginny won't always be around for moral support. You will learn how alone it can be when you are a coven leader."

            "I know," whispered Hermione, swallowing. At the name of her best friend, Hermione asked, "does Ginny have any brothers? Any warlocks? Her mother usually tells us stories at night about them."

            "Yes," nodded Minerva. "Ginny is the youngest of five brothers – warlocks, too – that are older than she. The oldest is Bill, who is a treasurer of Albus Dumbledore's Talamanca clan. Charlie is the animal tamer, Percy the noble who stands beside Dumbledore. Fred and George, twins, who lighten everyone's mood when sad, and finally, her oldest brother, the one that is your age, Ronald Weasley, strongest warlock in their family line. He does not know it himself, but with our scrying and witches power, we can ask the Mother to tell us this."

            "I see," nodded Hermione. "Ginny often wonders about them."

            "She should," replied Minerva. "It is only natural to be curious about one's family… but…"

            "But?" asked Hermione, looking up from her pentacle necklace (the one that all witches received when borne).

            "But she should not ever be too curious as to go with you out into the wilderness to search for them. They will kill her on the spot, or worse – strip her of her magick and bond her to one of their warlocks for mating!"

            Hermione cringed. "But don't we do the same to the ones our warriors capture?"

            "Aye, we do," Minerva nodded, a twinkle in her eyes. "But we give 'em a choice. Warlocks don't."

            Hermione nodded, and stood. Her teaching session with Minerva was over for today. Hermione stepped outside the dark, incense filled room to the bright sun, smiling.

            Her kind, the witches, lived where most humans (as were non-magic ancients called) had in the ancient times. They were all females, with the occasional male to serve as a slave for the richer in magick families. Hermione herself had no family, not in their large coven, at least. While she and her mother were escaping from a warlock's clan the warlock warriors had followed them and murdered her mother. Hermione had been able to take off into the forests, where Minerva and her coven picked her up. She had been Minerva's protégé since then.

            Befriending her was Ginny Weasley. Last names weren't used in the covens, as there weren't two of the same name in any coven.

            "Hermione!" called the sweet voice of Ginny. Hermione grinned, waved and ran down the stone steps towards Ginny.

            "How was your lesson with Minerva?" she asked when she arrived.

            "All right, I suppose. We mainly talked about my responsibilities when she passes on to the Goddess," said Hermione, sighing. "I'm so afraid I'll do something wrong."

            "You won't," reassured Ginny, hugging her older best friend. They began to walk off, towards the upper floors of the flat to where the greenhouse was.

            They walked by where the slaves were, where the warlocks they captured were placed. They had natural magick bonded to them to make sure they didn't do any magick. Angelina, a young witch only a few years older than the two girls, spotted them. She was in charge of the male slaves, making sure that the correct ones were chosen to bond to some of the witches.

            "Hello there," she smiled. Her dark features made her look exotic and beautiful, and Ginny and Hermione often caught her in their discussions about where she was from. Angelina would only laugh and shake her head, saying she wouldn't tell them.

            "Hi, Angelina," the two girls chorused, looking through the small windows in curiosity. "Any new warlocks?"

            "Actually, our Days should arrive soon with a new bunch if they were successful," smiled Angelina. Hermione shuddered.

            "It's disgusting the way we treat warlocks. They are humans and sharers of magick, are they not? We shouldn't do this to them," she said passively.

            Ginny shook her head. "Hermione, they do the same to us. What should we do? Let them walk all over us?"

            Angelina nodded. "I agree with Ginny, Hermione. We'd die out soon enough with we let warlocks rule the world."

            Hermione sighed. "I suppose in a way you are right, but I still want to express my opinions on warlocks."

            Angelina was to reply when a screech sounded the return of the Days – the witch warriors. The three young woman's eyes were up to the sky, where a herd of griffins came sweeping down upon them. Hanging, tied to ropes from underneath the saddles were disgruntled and fatigued warlocks. Hermione gasped, her eyes wide and horrified by the scene. Angelina, however, nodded in pleasure.

            "Seven! My, what a catch today!" she exclaimed. Hermione turned to her.

            "You speak of them like they are fish!" she cried, revolted, "How can you say such things? They don't do that to use when they catch witches!"

            "How would you know?" asked Angelina, her ebony eyes narrowed. Hermione turned away in shame and whispered: "I was born in a bonding camp, Angelina. I grew up with warlocks till the age of eleven where my mother and I escaped."

            "But you arrived with the coven alone…" stated Ginny, trailing off in a soft voice. "Did your mother abandon you, Hermione?"

            Hermione felt something inside break into thousands of pieces; it was something she had locked away many years ago. The seventeen lives cycled girl looked at the warlocks, who were lying on their sides as the Days cut their ropes from the saddle and wrapped them tightly around their wrists.

            "No," she whispered, tears in her eyes. She sniffed, placing an emotionless façade on. "She was murdered by Nights – warlock warriors."

            Angelina gasped and Ginny immediately said, "Oh, Hermione, I'm so sorry – I didn't know"—

            "That's right," said Hermione, a bit stiffly, "You didn't."

            She then walked away, around the corner to where the front of the warlock slave house. She watched disgustedly as the Days lugged and shoved the warlocks into the cells, each of the young men far too tired to fight back.

            Once the Days had left, Hermione stepped closer to the bars. "My God… this has got to stop," she whispered to no one in particular, looking over their bodies. There were bruises everywhere, cuts and deep wounds that only a knife could make.

            One of the men looked up, his head lolling onto his shoulder as he looked up into the daylight. Squinting, he asked, "Who goes there?"

            "My name is Hermione," said Hermione, stepping closer. "I'm so sorry."

            "For what?" the young man asked. Hermione sighed, falling to her knees softly, the blue silky material staining on the dirt.

            "For your capture. I may not have said that they should go after you, but what they are doing is wrong," Hermione shook her glossy hair. "Forgive me, at least, for not doing anything to stop them."

            The young man, around her age, shuffled closer to where she knelt. In her shadow, she memorized his features: wavy brown hair, gorgeous brown eyes, sensible mouth and chiseled Roman good looks. He also memorized her features before nodding. "I forgive you, Hermione."

            "Hermione? What are you doing? Stop talking to that slave!" shouted a voice from far away. Glancing over her shoulder, Hermione spotted Angelina and Ginny waving, trying to catch her attention.

            Ginny cupped her mouth with her hands and shouted, "My mother wishes to speak with you, Mione! Something about your coven responsibilities."

            Groaning, Hermione turned away from them and rested her head on the cool bars. The warlock reached out, taking a strand of her wavy hair in his hand and whispered, "I am no slave, Hermione. Tell them that."

            "I will."

            "HERMIONE!"

            Hermione sighed, as the young warlock released her hair she stood. She turned and walked a few paces when he called back out to her.

            "Enchantress!"

            Hermione turned; looking at him curiously, she tilted her head to her side, awaiting his continuous response.

            "It's Oliver."

            "Pardon?"

            "My name, Enchantress. It's not 'slave'. It's Oliver Wood, Keeper of the Forest of Talamanca."

            Hermione smiled slightly at him. Nodding, she said softly, "I promise, Oliver, and I never break them."

**-**

            The smell of blood and sweat mingled with the man's senses; he licked his lips in vain to get it out of his mouth, his nostrils, everywhere. He staggered; trying to reach the forest before anyone else realized that a warlock was still alive.

            He reached the tree line easily, walking into its secluded dense brush, glad for his magick. His clan had been destroyed in a battle against Days, and he couldn't as well go back to his clan and inform them that their Nights were slaughtered, could he? It would be so obvious that he abandoned his duties to hide while his friends, enemies and leader were slain before his eyes.

            The man swore, but nonetheless slumped against a tree trunk. He promised to return to his leader, the All Mighty Dark Lord. He was great with power and so far, unbeatable. He took witches and warlocks in, sparing them all, welcoming them as his "children". The man hoped to find him.

            He looked up; getting dizzy the longer he looked at the mystifying maze of branches and leaves above him. He sighed, falling over on his side. Closing his eyes, he fell into fatigue and exhaustion, unaware of the large snake slithering around him body…

**-**

            Hermione whistled a couple of soft hymns she had been taught once arriving in Minerva's coven. She had been taught so much: she had been taught about the Moon, the Stars, and the Sky; she had been taught of the Sun, the Dawn and Dayset; and the pentacle's points being Air, Water, Fire, and Earth. Tales were told of their culture, their powers and harmony with nature. They took only what they could give, sacrifices something they loved for a whole Sabbatical, from either Beltane (May first) to Litha on June twentieth to twenty-third. Those days held festivals and celebrations, stating the middle of summer.

            She walked over to the warlock's prison, hiding the piece of homemade bread that was under her cloak. Slipping past Angelina, who was content on talking avidly with Katie Bell, Hermione crouched and hissed, "Oliver! Over here!"

            The young warlock skittered over to where Hermione crouched, ever watchful of Angelina and Katie.

            "Hullo there, Hermione," he replied, "what brings you over here?"

            "This," she hissed, taking the flat bread out and stuffing it through the bars. Oliver's eyes widened, but he took the bread and hid it.

            "I'll share it accordingly. Don't fear," he whispered. Hermione nodded, stood and was about to say more when a loud explosion of some sort rippled through the building before they could move any further.

            "Hermione!" a voice shouted. Turning, Hermione saw Minerva shouting at her, far down the rooftop. "It's time!"

            "Time?" asked Hermione, suddenly afraid of that immortal word. Hermione dashed over to a smashed out window and glanced out. "Warlocks!" she gasped, seeing the tiny dots of men with their staffs' race into their building. "They'll be at this level in minutes!" she moaned. She turned back to Oliver at his cell, who had paled.

            "Go! Run and get yourself out of here! They'll free us sooner or later, Hermione, and save you," he whispered hurriedly. Angelina and Katie ran by, completely oblivious to the fact that Hermione was speaking to a "slave".

            Hermione shook her head. "Not until I free you!" She ran over to where the large, iron lock was, placing her hands over it.

            "Hermione," said Oliver in a hurried tone, "There's no time!"

            The other warlocks were standing after sharing the bread, knowing that this one witch had been keeping them well fed and spoke to them as if they were equals.

            "Oliver, shush!" she hissed, concentrating on the lock.

I am old, please, all I wish is to be back in the ground where I came from, the lock spoke.

Return then to the land, which you came from! She willed. Seconds later, a soft icy blue light surrounded the lock and it broke effortlessly to the ground. A second blast made Hermione trip.

A hand helped her up, and as she looked up, Oliver's face looked down at her. Shouts now came from all around. "Hurry," he whispered. "Leave here."

"I cannot! I must stay and fight – that is my duty as a Enchantress!" she argued. Oliver shook his head.

            "No." He said, forcefully. "You may be a Enchantress, but you are powerful, Hermione. You are indeed and very powerful witch. Promise me that you leave here. Promise me!"

            He shook her shoulders when she turned her head, not wanting to be in the same position she had been in with her mother six years ago.

            "Don't make me promise, Oliver," she whispered, through tears. "I lost my mother this way and I don't want to lose someone else too."

            Oliver smiled. "You won't lose me." He dug through his dirty pockets of his cloak, found what he was searching for and held it out to her.

            "What's this?" she asked.

            "It's a Remembrance Stone," Oliver said, placing it in her hand, closing it in her fist. His eyes looked into hers. "You think of the person who wish to see the face of, and then place this stone in your hand. Instantly, the picture will appear. You can store memories in here. This way, you never will forget me."

            Hermione was speechless as she looked up at him from the stone. He kissed her forehead. "I know I will not forget Hermione, the brave witch who thinks of warlocks and witches as equals." He turned, bent, and picked up a discarded staff of his, swung it around a bit and grinned. "It was a pleasure, Hermione. When you are in danger, I promise to be there to rescue you. That is my promise and duty as a Priest's Knight."

            He then turned, jumped the height of the building with other warlocks and disappeared; probably off to fight some witches, Hermione suspected. She sighed and turned, seeing Minerva running up behind her.

            "Hermione!" panted Minerva, as she appeared by Hermione's side. "You must leave! Now, before they take you too – I cannot allow my protégé to be taken!"

            Hermione gasped. "What? NO! Leave you here, I can't! Oh, Minerva, I shall stay by your side and battle with you!"

            "No, you will go," came the voice of Molly Weasley, Ginny's mother. "Hermione, I am an Elder that is above your position. I am ordering you to go, now!"

            The sounds of footsteps pounding up the concrete steps was louder now, than it had been seconds ago. Heart pounding; Hermione nodded slowly.

            She began backing up, not taking her eyes off the doors where she was sure the Night warriors would appear through soon.

            "Hermione, GO!" shouted Molly, using a soft blast of her powers to push Hermione. Gasping, Hermione nodded and scrambled away, as fast as she could.

            She reached the top when the sound of a door being blasted away caught her attention. The shouts of Molly and Minerva reached her ears, and the curses that the warriors voiced tainted her.

            She was panting by the time she was on the building's roof, where their greenhouse was. An Elder was waiting at some sort of machine. Hermione watched Ginny sit on the blue plastic seat, holding onto the ropes on either side of the seat that connected to a pulley of some sort. When the Elder sent her power into the pulley, the chair took off at a rocketing speed towards their griffins.

            "You're next, dear," came the voice of the Elder. Hermione didn't hear her. Everything was in slow motion and there was no sound. She got on the seat without knowing she had moved; now she was zipping over the city's empty street to the griffins on the other building's roof. Glancing back, she saw Minerva walk up the stairs, battling a warlock. Soon, they were too small to see what was happening and she was at the griffins.

            "Hermione," Ginny's voice was soft, reaching her in her state. Hermione followed Ginny wordlessly, as she and the tear-stricken girl stood by the herd.

            No one else came down the cord line. Hermione had been the last. The griffins cried out in their language, and the girls mounted. There was the feeling of falling for a split second before it began to rise through the cloudy sky.

            Hermione turned around, twisting her body, and watched her home is destroyed.

            Ginny gasped beside her, for a fire had roared to life, spreading through the top of the building, engulfing all that was in its way.

            Hermione felt a flash on her skin, and looked down to see what caused it. Ginny and she watched as the arm bracelet turned silver and the engraved pentacle black. All around them, the women went quiet, hushed, as they flew in a V. One by one, they nodded to Hermione, their new coven leader.

            Minerva was dead.

**-**

            Harry Potter was the son of James Potter, who had been in battle when he died. Lily Evans was a slave girl that James had rescued from a couple warlocks trying to rape her. She became the mother of their clan, but after James died, she herself starved to death, leaving her son in the hands of their best friends, powerful mages, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin.

            "Harry?" asked one of the warriors generals.

            "Yes, Vector?" asked the young man of seventeen life cycles.

            Vector, the black hair man general, bowed. "The coven Wycliffe has been destroyed. All those witches they had escaped have no where to go and the remaining witches that hadn't died are captured."

            "There are some dead?" asked the teenager, worry in his voice as he turned. He was tall, with broad shoulders and messy black hair. His emerald eyes glittered dangerously.

            "Er, yes, Harry," said Vector, "that is what General Malfoy ordered."

            "Send him in," growled the teen. Vector bowed and nodded, leaving the room. Soon after, Harry best friend Ron Weasley came into the building.

            "What's wrong, Harry?" he asked.

            "They murdered some," he said through clenched teeth. "Who else knows what they did?"

            Ron nodded. "What was the coven?"

            "Wycliffe."

            "What?" Ron exclaimed, before covering his mouth with his hand. Harry turned to look at his friend.

            "Wycliffe, Ron. Is there…?" Harry trailed off and his eyes widened. "Did your father say that your Mother was from Wycliffe?"

            Ron nodded sullenly; sinking into a seat Harry offered him. "Father above! Harry, my mother… and did you know I have a younger sister too? They were both in that coven…"

            Harry placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "I'm sure nothing happened, Ron. I didn't want anything to happen to that coven; the warriors were suppose to attack and take, not kill anyone."

            "I know," his friend whispered, his head in his hands. Nodding, Harry backed away and looked up when Lucius Malfoy and his son, Draco, entered the simple room, made in the trunk of an old tree.

            "You wanted to see us, Milord?" drawled Lucius, bowing. Draco copied him.

            "I heard you ordered some of the witches to be executed, Malfoy," said Harry evenly. "Do you deny this?"

            Looking up, Lucius said, "why, Milord, I believed that it was what our Father above would have wished us to do! Exterminate the more powerful witches so they cannot battle against us—"

            "MALFOY!" roared Harry, stepping closer to the teen and his father. "I specifically ordered that no witches were to be hurt in the attack!"

            "It is impossible milord! They battle against us! They wish to die!" cried Lucius. Harry's eyes narrowed.

            "I do not believe you. You have one more chance, Malfoy, and if you screw it up, your magick will be bonded," threatened Harry.

            "That will not be so!" said Lucius, drawling out his words. "I leave this clan. Come, Draco."

            Draco took one look back at Harry, as in saying, reconsider, but Harry didn't move. Draco nodded once, and left the tree after his father.

            Ron looked up from the chair he was in. "Slimy git," he snarled. "I hate Draco."

            Nodding, Harry agreed. "So do I, but I put up with him and his father because they have knowledge in the dark arts and witches coven's."

            Ron and Harry watched the scene outside change from afternoon to night, in silence. Both had much on their young minds. Finally, Harry said, "gather the warriors and the lords. We shall go on a hunt for rogue."

            Ron nodded and left the tree, whistling to Harry as soon as everyone was gathered.

            "Where shall we find these rogues?" asked a friend, Dean Thomas.

            "In the Enchanted Forest of the Talamanca," said Harry, nodding at his friend. "Our territory. They should arrive here soon as our Seers inform us. We leave soon, so gather your equipment and men."

            They nodded and were soon on their way.

**-**

            In the darkness of a cavern, only the flicker of torches lining the ground in iron baskets showed the way to the beautiful crystal room, where a large group of warlocks and witches resided.

            They all dressed in the same attire: for the men, black pants and dressy light shirts, with a long, flowing black cape with hood to mask any features. The women wore short black leather skirts, snakeskin boots and low-neckline shirts or halters. They wore also flowing cloaks to hide their identity.

            One man, however, wore a blood red dress shirt with black pants and shiny leather boots. His red cloak was more of a cape, flowing long and beautifully behind him everywhere he went. The blood color matched his scarlet eyes and the black accented his pale skin and made his jet-black hair darker than the night.

            "My Death Eaters," he called in a surprisingly strong voice, his arms wide and welcoming.

            The witches and warlocks stopped talking, turning to face their leader.

            "Welcome," he hissed, his Anglo features neutral. "I want to initiate a new member into our… happy group. Please, greet Severus Snape."

            The leader brought his cloak down from his elbow, revealing a pale man with greasy black hair, hook-nose and cool, uncaring eyes.

            The Death Eaters regarded him with curiosity. Usually someone being initiated showed some sort of fear or tense nerves, but this man… he felt nothing.

            The leader grinned, facing the man. "Kneel, Snape."

            Snape knelt, his face carefully emotionless. He watched the leader take a staff out from behind his stone throne, before placing it on Snape's left, then right shoulder.

            "Stand."

            Snape stood, like an obedient pet. Their leader looked at him with promise. His scarlet eyes seemed to show some interest when his face remained cool and collective.

            "Show me your left arm, Snape," commanded their leader.

            Snape pulled his cloak off, and unbuttoned his shirt before lowering the left shoulder's sleeve. Nothing was blemished on the skin, no marks of any kind.

            A sigh echoed through the crowd; how that would all change, they all seemed to think. Seconds later, the tip of the staff was pressed against Snape's skin, which boiled and blistered. Lines began appearing, filling themselves in as if someone invisible were drawing on his shoulder.

            Through this painful ordeal, Snape made no noise. Their leader took this into note. Finally, when the staff was pulled away, and glistening, almost wet mark was left. A skull was there, it's jaws open while a snake protruded out of the skull's mouth. The leader smirked.

            "Death Eaters," he said, clapping a hand on Snape's back, "Welcome Severus Snape, and the newest member to Tom Marvolo Riddle's clan of Death Eaters."

**-**

Hello there! So what did you all think of "Enchantress of the Day and Night" so far? Does it interest you? Well, please leave me a review telling me what you think! I'd really appreciate it!