SIXTH YEAR
Author's note: In Turin, where Victoria was born and lives, there are two football teams: Juventus Turin and Torino, a.k.a. Toro. Juventus Turin is a rich team that always win while Toro is not so lucky…let's say it is not lucky at all! Juventus fans' favorite sport, apart from winning, is mocking Toro's fans because we're in the lower Championship. Toro's fans and Juve's fans absolutely hate each other. In a way, they kinda remind me of Gryffindors and Slytherins….But I'm not here to hold a conference about Juventus and Toro, I just wanted to explain this because it makes what it is said later more clear.
Well, I think you can guess which team I do support…And now, let's go on with the show.
Victoria and Draco walked together through the barrier of platform 9 and ¾.
Here we go again, Victoria muttered, seeing some Slytherins casting her friend looks of pure hatred and fear. Draco didn't comment. He didn't say a word until they reached Hogwart's gates. "Lasciate ogni speranza voi ch'entrate". Welcome to Hell. ["Abandon all hope ye that enter here". Dante Alighieri, "Divina Commedia," Hell.]
Victoria was deeply depressed. Since the previous evening she had been watching Draco's happiness fade little by little. It was like watching a flower wither and die of thirst. She wanted to make him feel better, but she didn't know what to do.
Some say that "If you think you reached the bottom, just look down." Victoria often thought it during that year, when things started to fall apart. Voldemort was back, that was no mystery, as it wasn't a mystery that he was gaining strength. If it was possible, the other Houses were colder then ever toward Slytherins, who obviously blamed it on Draco. After all, he wasn't only a jinx, he was also the son of a Death Eater. But this wasn't enough…Victoria was sure that something else ailed her friend: Draco had always been very reserved about his family life, but during the previous years, thanks to half-sentences escaped from his lips, she had guessed that his parent-child relationship wasn't one of the best, especially with his father. Those scars she had seen on his back that summer day had only confirmed her worst hypothesis, but now there was something else. She could feel it clearly. She felt it in the air she breathed around him, but she couldn't understand what it was and he didn't talk about it. Truth to be told, he scarcely talked at all by now. He was estranged for all the things around him, he was drifting away from all of them, losing himself in his own thoughts. It wasn't definitely a good thing, and it didn't save him from suffering because of all the things the others said and done.
One day, at the beginning of October, he and Victoria talked on the lake banks…but maybe "talk" was not the right word. The girl tried to discover what ailed him, but all she got were obscure, enigmatic sentences.
Have you ever felt like you're going to break? he asked her after a long silence.
Do you feel that way?
I am a Malfoy. he replied Malfoys never surrender.
There's nothing that can't be broken or cut, she reminded him.
His answer was a shrugging of his shoulders. His gaze was lost into the lake depths. That's a damned thing when one wants to surrender and can never do it. Being trapped for life in a model you didn't choose…
You can always rebel. Try to run, Victoria suggested.
No. He shook his head I can't. Whatever road I'd chose, it'd mean death.
Victoria swallowed hard. I…I don't understand what you mean, Draco. Her voice shook.
For the first time in more than an hour, Draco rose his head to look at her. I think you understood perfectly.
Victoria shivered, and it wasn't because of the soft breeze. She had understood.
If Draco refused to join the Dark Side, his father would kill him. However, yielding meant meeting his death by Aurors or Dumbledore's partisans' hands as he fought for a cause that wasn't his own. In one way or another, his fate was sealed.
Is… Victoria started, but Draco answered her question before she finished it.
No, there's no way to avoid it.
You could spy for Dumbledore, the girl proposed, pulling up blades of grass from the ground.
They'd never believe me, the boy murmured, staring at the lake, and the sad thing was that he was right.
When will your…"initiation" take place? she asked hesitantly.
Draco sighed, After my seventeenth birthday.
That means after May 26th, Victoria murmured. They'll have to wait until school is over.
Well… said Draco, trying to look optimistic That leaves some time to get out of this mess. On my own. He added, casting her a piercing glance.
That was the last time that Draco and Victoria really talked together. Since that day, started drifting away more and more. Victoria called it "be out of mind" because he looked stuck in trance. She tried to talk to him, but it was like talking with a wall. Draco tried to make her believe he was all right, but she couldn't accept useless lies. This situation reminded Victoria of a balloon her parents had bought her during a festival when she was a little girl. She was on the ground and he flew in the sky, not very high. The only thing that linked him to the world was through a thin twine tied to her wrist. Suddenly, the knot that held the twine had come loose and the balloon had flown away in the clouds. Draco was like that balloon and the twine that linked him to Earth was their relationship…But how long would the knot last? That year the situation was so bad that Draco preferred to go home for the Christmas break. When he came back, he had got worse, if it was possible, just like the rumors about him had got worse.
One of the most ardent believers of "Malfoy's evil eye" was Ronald Weasley, who wanted to pay him back for four years of insults. One day, in a corridor, Victoria watched a particularly hard confrontation between those two. By now it was rare that Draco answered a provocation.
Go to Hell, Malfoy! Potter shouted at him, restraining his friend Ron from jumping at Draco after he had said one of his old bitter remarks on Weasley's economic situation.
Draco's reaction surprised everyone. He looked at the three Gryffindors and his lips curled in a smirk that once had been his trademark.
I am already there, Potter. I am already there, he repeated a second time, his voice lower. Then he went away laughing. Victoria was frozen both by his unpleasant laughter, by the tone of his voice when he had answered, and by his eyes as he said that sentence -- far away, cold…lost.
She didn't know that Blaise Zabini had assisted at that scene as well.
******
Blaise Zabini looked around for the hundredth time: no one. He had to decide quickly. He could go or come back, but he had to do it right now before someone caught him out of bed. With a sigh, he ran across the lawn lit by the moonlight toward the lake. He passed through the bushes and saw Draco Malfoy, lying on his back in the small clearing, his hands clasped on his chest. Blaise shivered. In the pale light he almost looked dead.
The boy turned his head toward him. Oh, it's you… He didn't do anything to hide the evident disappointment in his voice.
You missed the meeting this evening, said Blaise, who was on the Quidditch team as Chaser.
I sat here, thinking… Draco murmured, staring at the sky above them. Trying to understand if it could really be my fault!
Zabini starred at his feet, deeply ashamed.
Maybe… said Draco, his voice broken by uncried tears. Maybe you're right. Maybe I should just thrown myself down the roof, do you agree? Wouldn't this be the best thing for everyone?
Well… said Zabini, embarrassed. Maybe…Well, I just wanted to say that maybe this bad luck thing went…a little bit out of control.
A little bit out of control? repeated Draco, disgusted. Oh, don't you worry, Zabini…You just underhandedly ruined my life, but don't you worry. That's all right.
I… I'm sorry.
Draco rose on his feet and came near the other boy.
I think it's a little bit too late, he hissed in a icy voice. Maybe being Lucius Malfoy's son makes me a good target for this kind of thing…But I'm fed up with it. I won't put up with it anymore. And in a way or another I draw back, is that clear, Zabini?
He passed around his Housemate and headed toward the castle. Zabini dropped on the ground, burying his face in his hands.
My God, what have we done? he murmured, his eyes shut. But even so, he couldn't erase Draco's disparate and almost aghast eyes from his mind.
It was March 7th . Two months and nineteen days to Draco's seventeenth birthday.
Days started to come and go faster and faster. Soon it was May.
On the evening of May 11th, fifteen days before her best friend's birthday, Victoria slipped into Draco's room, once known as "sixth year boys' dorm." He was the only one who slept there. The other boys didn't want to stay in the same room. All the lights were off and the curtains were open. The room was dusky. It was hard to make out the shape of furniture. In the faint light, they looked completely different. The girl headed toward one of the beds without waiting for her eyes to become used at the faint light. She had often found the room like that. Draco liked dusk. She was the only one who knew that in the twilight he felt safe.
Nor light, nor darkness… he had told her when he had confessed to her this "weakness." Caught in the middle. Just like me. Maybe that's why I feel so well in faint light.
The boy who had said those words now laid on the bed with his eyes closed, but he wasn't sleeping.
Victoria sat down by his side. Draco caught her hand and squeezed it tightly.
Torey…
Drac…
He opened his eyes.
Just fifteen days. I don't know what to do.
School won't be over until June…There's still time left, she tried to reassure him
Not much, but is there something you wanted to talk about? he asked, sitting up.
Well…do you remember when I was a First year and you a Second…and you hinted that I should have gone in Gryffindor?
Draco nodded in the dark.
Well…I just wanted to say that I'm glad to be here. Being a Slytherin is a challenge…and I love challenges. And then, if I was a Gryffindor…well, I'd never know you. I can't and I don't wanna imagine my life without you.
This sounds terribly close to a declaration, Torey… said Draco, smiling amusedly.
Maybe it is… the girl murmured without looking at him.
His smile faded away from his lips. Victoria rose to go away, but Draco caught her by her arm.
Let's talk about it, okay? he asked, softly forcing her to sit down again.
There's not much to talk about…
There is… Draco replied uneasily. I hoped that it wouldn't happen, Torey…Because now it's more difficult.
What is difficult? the girl asked, not understanding.
Keeping myself from doing this, he whispered before kissing her.
He broke apart from her after a few seconds. I'm sorry, Torey…You are beautiful, you're the best girl in the whole world, but…I can't be who we both wish I was, he murmured, lowering his eyes.
Why? It makes no sense at all…
Oh, yes, it does. I have caused you enough trouble as your friend, I don't wanna think about what would happen if I was your boyfriend. he couldn't repress a shiver.
But you want to be my boyfriend? she asked, looking for his eyes.
More than anything in the world.
Then be it.
He shook his head. I can't.
Yes, you can. Even if it'd be for a night only… she came near him, grazing his leg with her own and barely touching his face with her hand.
No. It wouldn't be right. I will hurt you, Torey…
No, you won't. she whispered, kissing his face and his neck. Do you remember the song we danced to when we were at my house the day before coming back here? It said: "Don't think about tomorrow/Tonight's a night we borrow/Let's make it a memory, a night of our own/A thing to remember when we're all alone." We can do like this.
There wasn't much light, and yet she saw him closing his eyes.
Just once, damn the others and every consequence, she whispered before brushing his lips with her own. Ti amo.
Draco started kissing her face, unable to stop. I love you too, Torey, he whispered against her lips. I love you.
In the dusky room, nothing else existed but them and their love.
When Victoria opened her eyes the morning after, she found Draco watching her.
Come on, say it… she mumbled, sitting up and holding the sheets against her chest. …say it was only a mistake. I can see it all over your face.
You're right… Draco whispered, coming near her. It was a terrible mistake… his lips grazed her shoulder. 'Cause I don't think that everything will be as it used to between us nor that I can be okay after one night. I wanna keep on feeling like this every day.
How? Victoria asked, uncertain.
Their eyes met.
Like your boyfriend.
Victoria kissed him. You are my boyfriend.
They kissed again, then they started getting ready for the new day that was beginning out of the window.
Before going out and facing the world, Draco held Victoria in his arms. I don't know what will happen when I come back home, nor where this will take us, but there's something I know… Victoria was looking at him with her violet eyes, waiting. He cast one of his half-smiles, but it looked different from the others. I love you so much I can't find the words to tell you and I won't let anyone break us apart easily.
Victoria's eyes sparkled. I love you…I can't think of anything else I could say.
Another half-smile. You don't have to say anything else. He kissed her.
Ready to face the ret of the world?
They don't scare me.
******
On May 19th there was the last Quidditch Match of the year: Slytherin versus Gryffindor again fighting for the Quidditch Cup and the House Cup. Again Malfoy versus Potter. Draco didn't care, not anymore. His teammates left him alone in the changing room again. He didn't even realize it. When he raised his gaze, Victoria stood in front of him.
How are you? she asked him.
Draco got on his feet and hugged her as tight as he could. Better, now that I've hugged my amulet.
Really a great amulet. I've never worked against Gryffindors nor against those stupid rumors.
Nothing works against Gryffindors and idiots, he sighed, resignedly.
Now, now, she told him, laying a hand on his shoulder.
Draco pulled himself together. I must go. But… He turned around again, holding her in his arms and kissing her passionately.
Ti amo, Victoria, he whispered You're my queen.
He kissed her again. Outside, Guthlac called him but he didn't care.
Anch'io ti amo, Draco, Victoria whispered.
He wordlessly freed himself from the embrace and marched toward the door that led to the Quidditch pitch where the others were waiting for him. At the threshold, he turned again to blow her a kiss and whisper to her one last time. I love you. See ya after our defeating, I mean, the match.
Victoria waved at him and told him her last "I love you" before he went off to join the rest of the team. Then she headed to her usual place on the stands. It was a good place. It allowed her to follow every move of the Seekers (or rather the Seeker) wherever they flew.
That match would be remembered as the most fought in the whole history of Hogwarts…but it would be remembered especially for another reason.
The teams had been playing for two hours and now they were equal: eighty to eighty. The Snitch had been sighted three times, but neither Draco nor Harry Potter had been able to catch it. Draco had never been so careless. Victoria couldn't tear her eyes away from him and she had mechanically tore into pieces a handkerchief.
Finally, after two hours and twenty minutes from the start, both the Seekers dove toward the golden ball that went down toward the ground almost vertically. Draco followed its dive with a dangerous move. Harry Potter, more careful, had been left behind and now was trying to regain his position. Victoria clutched feverishly her green-and-white scarf, following the blonde Seeker with her eyes. Suddenly, something else entered her eyeshot. She jumped on her feet screaming, but it was too late. Concentrated on the difficult maneuver, Draco didn't realize what was happening. He didn't hear Victoria's cry nor the hiss of the Bludger until it hit him, throwing him down his broom. He barely had time to realize he was falling before he hit the ground. He fell from four meters high – a short fall, too short to let anyone have time to react. The last thing he saw was the bright sky above him. Victoria Cross ran to the first row, jumped down the stand and started running to him, but Profesor Snape blocked her. Gryffindors' cry of joy when Seamus Finnigan, the new speaker, had announced the victory of their team had died out, just like Slytherins' cry of disappointment. The stadium droned with the students' murmurs, who had understood that there was something wrong.
He's faking it, muttered Ron Weasley to his girlfriend, Hermione Granger. That damned ferret wants to attract attention another time.
Harry Potter had caught the Golden Snitch as Draco fell and now he was stuck in the air, staring at his eternal, fallen rival as the teachers started to approach.
Come on, get up. he murmured in a low voice, like a prayer. Come on, Draco, I know you're okay. You're faking it as usual. Come on, get up. I know you're faking it, I know…
A few meters away from him, Blaise Zabini was pleading more or less the same.
Madam Pomfrey and professor Sinistra were the first to reach the boy. The nurse knelt by him and laid a hand on his chest, then on the base of his neck. She raised her face. Her gaze met the teacher's kneeling by the sixteen-year-old Seeker and she shook her head.
Draco Malfoy was dead.
Selene Sinistra leaned forward and closed his eyes with her fingertips.
Form that simple gesture, they all understood that Draco Malfoy would never get up again.
Hermione Granger dropped her binoculars. Professor McGonagall covered her mouth with her hands in shock. Victoria Cross stopped fighting against professor Snape and slumped down on the ground with a sob. The stadium was deadly silent, everyone seemed frozen in his place. The only sound was Victoria Cross' sobs. Her face totally hidden by her dark hair and the black school uniform made her look like a bundle of rags.
It was May 19th.
One week later, Draco would have turned seventeen.
In her trunk, in the fifth year girls' dorm, Victoria Cross had hidden the gift she had bought him and that was only waiting to be wrapped up in paper.
That evening, Harry Potter sat in Gryffindor Common Room, staring at the fire.
Don't be so hard with yourself, Harry. It wasn't your fault, Hermione whispered, sitting down beside him. He broke his neck, he didn't suffer. He didn't even realize he was dieing.
How can you be so sure? he asked, casting her a brief glance and then turning to stare at the flames again. I could catch him… said the Boy-who-lived in a broken, far away voice. I was right by his side…I could catch him.
It wasn't your fault, Hermione insisted, laying a hand on his shoulder.
Try to think that…that's an enemy down. Ron suggested, earning himself a dirty look from Hermione.
Victoria Cross doesn't quite think like you do. She shook her head Poor girl. Everybody knows that she was in love with Malfoy.
Harry didn't speak.
At the same time, professor Snape entered Slytherin Common Room and sat down on one of the black sofa, the same one where Draco used to sit on when he read. He heard footsteps approaching and he saw Victoria Cross coming out from the girls' dorm, holding against her chest a small box, sheets of pearl-white wrapping paper, a roll of silver ribbon, a pair of scissors, and Spell-o-tape. She put everything down on a table near the fireplace and started wrapping up the box. When she finished, she inspected her work carefully. Apparently, it wasn't good enough, so she ripped away the paper and started again. The fifth try was more than perfect. She tied the ribbon around the packet and started curling it with her scissors. She looked like a robot. When finally the package was done, she slipped a birthday card under the ribbon and came back to her dorm.
Professor Snape followed her with his eyes, allowing himself not to hide all his worry.
The next evening, in a small room in the dungeons – the same one where Cedric Diggory had been laid years ago – was the funeral vigil. There were professor Dumbledore, professor Snape, professor Sinistra, and the Prefects Hermione Granger for Gryffindor, Millicent Bulstrode for Slytherin, Terry Boot for Ravenclaw and Justin Finch-Fletchley for Hufflepuff. Nobody spoke. Three of the four prefects tried to have a look at their clocks, Bulstrode included. The door opened and Victoria Cross came in. She held against her chest the box she had packaged the previous evening. Snape recognized immediately the white-pearl paper and the silver ribbon. She came near the coffin – a dark, heavy mahogany coffin, surely expansive, too big for the small boy it held – and she put the packet inside. Then, she sat in a corner far from the other people. Under the candlelight, the writings on the birthday card sparkled with different colors. There was written "26th May 2003. Happy Birthday, Draco." More than an hour passed before Victoria spoke. All the Prefects except Hermione had come back to their dorms.
Professor Dumbledore, professor Snape… she said in a low voice. Draco's mother will come tomorrow morning, won't she?
The two men nodded.
Speaking of it, his belongings haven't been packed yet… murmured Snape.
That's what I wanted to talk about. I'd pack his things, if you let me. Tear gathered in her violet eyes. I don't wanna stranger to touch his things…
The two men exchanged a glance.
I think there's no problem about this, Dumbledore said.
Thank you. She went back to her seat and didn't leave it anymore.
The morning after, Victoria Cross didn't go to class. After breakfast, the girl came back in Slytherins' dungeon, and, while everyone else got ready, she entered Draco's room – she'd never be able to call that place "sixth year boys' dorm" – closing the door behind herself. As usual, the room was perfectly tidy, thanks both to the House Elves and to Draco's natural tidiness. Victoria opened his trunk and started to put away carefully her boyfriend's belongings. It was a task very painful, but she wouldn't let someone else do it for anything in the world. She started from his clothes, but even putting away the school uniform, identical to the robe of hundreds of other Slytherin students, was hard. Because it wasn't common uniform, it was his uniform. When she started folding his old fancy robes – Mrs. Malfoy had written to make him wear the new one that he had never wore – she couldn't stop herself from thinking about the Yule Ball, that perfect evening now so far away…A single tear fell on the black fabric. The Quidditch uniform – green sweater and tunic with white trousers – maybe were the most difficult things to put away. She kept seeing him with those clothes on, standing on the threshold of the door that lead to the pitch as he told her "I love you" and "See ya…", the half-smile that hovered upon his lips, the light of the warm springy sun that surrounded him and danced upon his blonde hair. It had made her think about an angel not for the first time. Then she saw him falling, lying on the ground, she saw professor Sinistra closing his eyes…She shook her head, dispersing those images.
She started packing his personal belongings. Her heart was heavy as the trunk swallowed the Playing Top, the discs with the opera music he always listened to, and his favorite books he'd never reread again. Tears clouded her vision but she blinked them away and tried hard not to cry.
Until, after many hesitations, she opened the third drawer of his nightstand. She knew that Draco kept there the things he held dearer to his heart, but she didn't know what to expect. He had told her where he hid the key but he had never told her what he kept there, nor had she asked. Now she was almost scared to violate his privacy. But she had no choice, so she opened the lock and pulled the handle. The first thing to catch her eyes was a metallic box filled with more than fifty images of Turin between postcards and photo. Divided in four piles, each one of them tied with a green ribbon, were all the letters she had written to him during four summers. There was the lock of hair she had given him when they had parted for the first time tied with a lilac ribbon and closed into a little glass box, so it wouldn't be ruined. A couple of photo albums full of pictures of landscapes, of them together or of one of them alone were there, but not a single picture of his father and his mother. She found her own photo in a silver frame. In a little wooden box she found the three badges: "Torino football club", the Italian football team she supported and of which he had been nominated "Honorary Fan" because he had always been beaten by Gryffindors, just like her beloved team had always lost his competition against Juventus Turin. She remembered the "ceremony of awarding of the badges" held in an August afternoon in her garden back at home and she stopped holding back her tears. She sat on Draco's bed and cried, hiding her face against the green cover.
Draco was buried in the family graveyard three days later. There weren't many people. They were all adults and friends of his parents. Hogwarts students had at least the decency not to show up after what they had done. The only person under her thirties was Victoria Cross, in her black uniform with the green and white striped tie. She had pinned her Torino badge on her chest near the symbol of her House. By her side stood professor Snape, who had volunteered to escort her as he was going to attend the funeral as well. The only two persons who ever cared about Draco stood side by side in that bright May morning. Victoria couldn't help but stare at the Malfoys. They didn't look grieved, nor sad, nor sorry for the way they had always treated their only son, that wonderful boy that now was no more. Instead they looked bored and annoyed for the nth trouble that "that little useless idiot" had caused them. The wind started blowing and the sunlight suddenly went out. Victoria raised her eyes to the sky above and she saw that the sun had been covered by gray clouds. A raindrop fell on her forehead and soon a storm broke out. The Malfoys and the others wrapped themselves tightly in their cloaks and made some umbrellas appear from nowhere, muttering that the weather forecast hadn't foretold rain and hoping that the priest would hurry. Victoria didn't listen to the ceremony and stepped out from the shelter that Snape's umbrella offered, watching the cloudy sky. She let the rain slide down her face, looking upward and smiling at the sky.
It's a sign, she told professor Snape when she saw his puzzled face.
The professor looked more puzzled than ever, but she didn't care. He didn't know. He didn't know that Draco had always loved rain.
They placed the sepulchral monument, a crying woman leaning against the gravestone where there were the young boy's photo, name, date of birth and date of death. There was also something else: the funerary epigraph, written in the three languages Draco had loved the most, English, Italian and Latin. The translations were written side by side:
Known by many, Conosciuto da molti Multis notus Understood by few, Capito da pochi A paucis cognitus Taken from the evil to come Strappato dal male a venire A malo futuro erepto A week before turning seventeen. Una settimana prima Prope initio septimodi compiere diciassett'anni. - septem dies aberant -
anno decimo.
Those words had been written by Victoria, except for the third line. That verse came from Draco's favorite poem, "Johnnie Sayre" from "Spoon River Anthology." Rain kept on falling and half an hour later, when Snape, Dumbledore, and Victoria left the graveyard, it hadn't stopped yet. Victoria tried to hide a smile – the first one in days – at the sight of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy soaked to the bones.
You're terrible, Draco, she whispered, looking at the sky. I'll miss you… she added, wiping away a teardrop.
Victoria came back to Hogwarts with the two older teachers. School wasn't over yet.
After Draco's death, nobody dared to talk about his curse. Down in their hearts and in their consciences, they knew that their schoolmate's death had been more a suicide than an accident, and it had been them to push him on that path.
Nobody dared to look Victoria in the eyes, and yet they felt the weight of her accusing looks.
******
The last school day came and during the farewell speech the deceased student was commemorated. But, differently from Cedric Diggory's commemoration, everything sounded untrue and unfelt. Victoria was disgusted by their sad and serious faces. Even Dumbledore's speech sounded artificial and false. She couldn't stand it. So she jumped on her feet and ran away from the Great Hall, from all that hypocrisy. She ran until she reached Draco's refuge on the lake banks, as if she expected to find him there, but the clearing was empty. Victoria dropped on the ground and burst into tears. She didn't hear professor Snape approaching until he laid a hand on her shoulder. The man noticed that she was crying, holding tightly in her hands a picture of her and Draco on a bridge over a great river. It had been taken the previous summer in Turin. Suddenly, the teacher remembered where he had already seen the same photo. Someone had put it in Draco's hands, so he would hold it against his chest forever. The only difference between the two photos were the dedications written upon them.
"To Draco Flavius, 'cause I know that even without this, he'll never forget me or Torino. Forever, Victoria," said the first.
"To my darling Victoria – my little Torey – who will always held a special place in my heart. Forever, Draco Flavius M," said the second.
A lump closed his throat and he didn't know what to say to the crying girl. He left as noiselessly as he had come. Victoria stayed there…and she cried.