Chapter Six - Hermione in Cambridge

It all belongs to Rowling, except what you don't recognize.

A./N:  A huge thanks to my beta reader Ramos who, as usual, she had done a brilliant job!  Kudos.

This chapter and the one to follow were both written prior to the release of Order of the Phoenix.

Hermione woke early on her first morning at Cambridge, feeling relieved that the N.E.W.T.s were over along with the looming pressure of a decision to be made.  Pulling on a simple Indian print cotton dress and sandals, she set out to explore in hopes that the sights of her new situation would distract her.  Unfortunately, though the dewy grass on the banks of the River Cam was delightful, as was the early morning mist wafting from the water, those did no more to distract her busy mind than the bun and coffee she bought at a bakery shop.  She found herself waiting impatiently until she could go to the registrar and get her library pass.  She felt like a runner waiting for the shot to be fired so the race could begin.  For a race it was.

She had taken off several weeks after her N.E.W.T.s to catch up with friends and family.  But this had left her more acutely aware than ever that a decision needed to be made and she feared if she were to mess up there would be no second chances.  She had to do her research and weigh her options, of which she felt there were only two.  Either follow up on what she had experienced with Snape or put it all behind her and get on with her life.  She only had a few weeks to do her research and make her determination before classes began and, she worried, her opportunity was lost.  She felt the seconds ticking away…

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One week of determined study later had led Hermione to the realization that as impressive as the library had been at Hogwarts, it couldn't hold a candle to the magical sections of the University Library and all the other libraries Cambridge had to offer.  It was exhilarating and somewhat scary.  Like a guppy thrown into an ocean, she felt humbled after having been the intellectual shark in Hogwarts' kiddy pool for seven years. And she was no closer to coming to an understanding of the nature of a soul, or what a soul mating really represented, than when she started.

It had boiled down to a question of fate.  On the one hand was Sibyll Trelawney, who in her classes made one dire prediction after another of what "fate" was about to bestow on her hapless students.  One must discover one's destiny and humbly submit oneself to it, she taught.  Hermione had bristled against this woman's determination to crush beneath her feet the possibility of free will.  And, eventually, Hermione had left the class with the belief that this woman was no more than a charlatan.

Was she "fated" to be with Severus Snape?  Did their happiness rest on this pillar; on the few memories she had left of the experience where she had been one with him?  She didn't have the answer.  Strangely, she wished she had never left Trelawney's tutelage.  She wanted Trelawney to be right.  Then she could relax and say, "Yes, this is my destiny which I must fulfill."

On the other hand, Viola Iolanthe had written over 39 books and articles on the subjects of the aura and the soul.  Her curriculum vitae was impressive, having studied at Beauxbatons and later the Sorbonne.  Furthermore, there were another twenty articles written about Iolanthe's ongoing feud with Sibyll Trelawney.  It seemed that Witch Weekly and other publications couldn't resist writing about the ruckus that usually ensued whenever the two witches found themselves at the same round table discussion or even in the same room.  Iolanthe's thesis was that all was chaos in the Universe.  There was no destiny, no fate, and the soul was not some stable thing writ upon by the stars at the moment of birth, but rather a dynamic and fluid thing that changed with the moment.  She was fond of the string of beads theory of time and self.  The individual you were two seconds ago no more exists than the person you will become two seconds in the future.  And it was each person's responsibility to not waste a single second of the precious time in between because we create and are recreated by the decisions we make at every step of the way.  Sadly, as much as Hermione had previously ascribed to that theory herself, she felt her experience with Severus had proved Iolanthe wrong.

Hermione was sitting on the grass in a beautiful but not very quiet quad, enjoying the sunlight just like the throngs of students around her.  One of Iolanthe's books lay open on her lap, this one specifically written for Muggles and entitled "How to read Auras like a Witch."  Hermione wondered how the Ministry of Magic had allowed such a title to get past their censors.  She was also wondering how Muggles could be so gullible when her attention was taken by the wails of a baby.  The infant's mother was industriously changing its nappy and making soothing noises, while the child went crimson with anger. 

Hermione shook her head. 'Will I ever even want to be a mother?' she thought to herself.  'Look at all that noise coming from such a small helpless creature.'  The mother unbuttoned her blouse with one hand and when she'd bared one breast, pulled the baby's mouth up to it.  Hermione watched with fascination and embarrassment as the child's aura instantly went from…  Hold on, thought Hermione-- Did I just see that?

Hermione rubbed her eyes.  Unconsciously she had been trying out Iolanthe's technique and - it had worked!  It was only the first level, meaning only one color, whereas experienced aura readers interpreted entire palettes of color, all occurring and mixing all at once.  Yet still... the child had been not just red from wailing, but had been surrounded by a very angry shade of puce, which had changed into a contented pink when the baby latched on and suckled.

Hermione surreptitiously observed the mother.  She was covered in very pure light blue, the same color used in masterpieces for the veil of the Virgin Mother!  Hermione wanted to jump up and shout "Amazing!" but wisely decided against it, forestalling a red face and smirks all around.  The mother, however, did glance up at Hermione and peacefully smiled.  Yes, she was at peace feeding her baby:  Hermione could both see it and read it.  She quickly gathered her things and left for her room, where she sent an owl to Iolanthe right away.

Hours later, Hermione relinquished her cozy chair at the campus coffee house and prepared to make her way back to her digs once more.  She was exhausted, and her eyes ached from staring at auras all day.  While she could shut it off, the temptation to use her newfound skill was overwhelming.  Especially so, since she still didn't understand the meanings of half the colors she saw despite the interpretations given in the book.  The drive to master her new ability was overwhelming any sense of self-preservation she had for her tired eyes.  She'd been such a failure in Trelawney's classes and here she was doing it all on her own!  Surely, it had been the fault of the teacher and not the student that had led Hermione to drop Divination.

 The clerk behind the counter had just given Hermione her change from paying for a pastry to take back with her when she looked up into the eyes of an older man with silver shot black hair.  He smiled at her in a kindly way, but his aura was a poisonous shade of green. She gasped and the man's eye's narrowed at her in a most unpleasant way.

"I, I'm sorry," said Hermione trying not to stare at him.

"Not at all.  No need to apologize, I think I must have startled you."  His smile then disappeared.  Hermione watched as his aura changed from green to jaundiced yellow.  Somehow he knew that she knew he was going to hurt, or perhaps even kill, her.  She didn't know why he meant to hurt her.  Could it be because he was a Death Eater?  She remembered that she had stayed in a safe house while studying for her N.E.W.T.s, even though Remus had thought it unnecessary.

Hermione swallowed her fear and tried to remember all that Madame Hooch and the other professors had taught her and the other students in preparation for the war with Voldemort and his Death Eaters.  Ducking quickly out of the shop, she carefully fingered her wand and prayed that the streets wouldn't be as empty as they were earlier in the evening.  Unfortunately, they were practically deserted, and Hermione hurried towards the sanctuary of her room.  The urge to run was overwhelming when she heard steps behind her in the empty passage leading to her building.

She heard the gently spoken word, "Avada-" and threw herself to the ground to avoid the Unforgivable Curse.  At the same time that she hit the ground, she heard the curse cut off by a familiar voice shouting "Petrificus Totalis".  Bruised and scraped, she winced as she felt strong hands lift her and support her against a building.  Hermione realized that she had tightly squeezed shut her eyes.  Slowly she opened them, seeing a still body on the ground some ten feet behind the shoulder of her rescuer.

"So we meet again, Granger."  Draco Malfoy pressed his handsome body up again Hermione's.  "You owe me for saving your life."  His voice was smooth as silk and as sweet as honey.  "How would you like to come back to my flat in payment?  I'll make you scream out my name as I pleasure you." 

Hermione felt the tension begin ease out her body.

"And what, pray tell, will Mr. Greg Goyle do when he finds out you're cheating on him?"  Hermione whispered back seductively to him.  There was a dead silence and then they both snorted and started to laugh.  "By Merlin's Euphemism, I still can't keep a straight face with you."  Draco gave her a brotherly hug.  "How do you manage to get yourself into so much trouble, girl?"

Hermione sighed and realized she was trembling.  "Don't ask.  And what part are you trying out for?" 

"The theatre group here is planning a musical production of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.  I've been practicing non-stop with Greg in drag.  But it's not the same.  When I had you there, I just couldn't resist."  He took off his robe, revealing a white silk shirt and black jeans, and draped it around Hermione's shoulders.  "You're trembling."  Concern wrinkled his forehead.  "Sit down here on these steps while we wait for the powers that be."

"That git nearly killed me and you're worried about a part in a Muggle musical!"  Hermione shook her head, "I'll never understand Slytherins!"

"All I can say is that I didn't expect a Gryffindor to be quaking like a leaf."  He put his arm around her and let her head rest against his shoulder.  "I just wanted to save the moment as a sense memory.  It's something a Russian Muggle director wrote about.  I'm sorry."

"How did you happen to be there?"

"I've been following you.  Greg overheard this shite," Draco nodded at the man on the ground, "bragging to Mrs. Goyle how he'd found Potter's mudblood friend in Cambridge and was going to get back at Harry.  We put two and two together, did a trace spell, and there you were.  After the way you had scampered off from Hogwarts earlier this year, I wasn't sure you'd actually be coming here."

"You did all that for me?"  There was awe in her voice.  She tried her new skill and saw him covered with a lovely shade of turquoise.  Platonic love, she thought.  "But why didn't you just warn me?"

"Greg and I didn't know if he was just working his gob or what.  So we've been taking turns following you whenever you left your student housing.  We couldn't have done it once classes had started.  And you are damned lucky that we all decided on the same college."

Hermione hugged him.  "Thanks."

Just then Ministry Aurors showed up.  Both Malfoy and Hermione told their stories and presented their wands to show that neither one had thrown the Unforgivable.  One of the Aurors mentioned that they'd been looking for the bloke and told Malfoy that in future he shouldn't be a hero and just let the Ministry know when he heard a rumor.  Then they left, taking the Death Eater with them.

Malfoy turned to Hermione, "Shall I walk you home, or do you want to come to our place?  Greg and I will fix you a nightcap and you can sleep on our couch."

"Just walk me home, please."  Hermione found she was no longer shaking.

"All right.  That's just as well.  There's something serious I wanted to talk to you about, and I know Greg wouldn't approve of my interfering."  Draco smiled ruefully.

"Well, get it over with."  Hermione was suddenly finding Malfoy a bit tiresome, in spite of her gratitude.

"It's Snape.  You know about half the members of Slytherin would be wearing dark marks and clawing the walls in Azkaban right now if it weren't for him.  He helped me and my friends make the right choice and then kept finding excuses for us to not be initiated.  He cared for us better than our own families.  I know that he got a lot of flack for playing favorites, but being a pure blood has never been easy.  It was either toe the line or be beaten or disowned.  Professor Snape understood the pressure we were under."  In the dim light of the steps, Hermione saw Draco's eyes glimmer with unshed tears.

Hermione remembered very well how, just days after Voldemort had been defeated, Draco and Greg came to Harry.  They told him that there had been an owl from Lucius and they thought they knew where Snape had been taken.  The two Slytherins, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and Harry had launched an attack on the heavily warded Malfoy estate and ultimately rescued the Hogwarts professor.   Later, Draco and Greg had met with Harry, Ron and Hermione to ask their forgiveness for all the years of nastiness.  When Draco claimed he had only acted as his father expected him to and he'd had no choice, Harry and Ron had merely accepted the apology.  Hermione, however, had gone on to become close friends with the two of them, especially when they discovered a shared love of Muggle show tunes.  Harry had shrugged and said sometimes there were good reasons behind stereotypes.  Draco and Greg had been sneaking off to London's West End theatres since they were sixteen.  They both loved Broadway musicals best.

They were outside of Hermione's lodgings and she waited patiently for him to continue.

"After you ran away, Snape went barking mad.  He didn't eat or sleep.  All the seventh years were sure they'd fail their Potion N.E.W.T.s because it was obvious Snape only cared about finding you."  Malfoy paused, searching for the next words.  "We may be friends, Hermione, but I have to say this: you hurt him when you disappeared, and I think you owe him something.  I don't know, and I don't want to know what went on between you, but I think you should try and make things right.    I stopped by Hogwarts a couple of days ago, and, and he doesn't look well.  Not that he ever looked healthy, but he's aged years in just the past few months."  He ran his hand through his long, platinum blond hair.  "Just do something, damn it."  Draco looked down.  "Okay, I said it."

Hermione touched the young man's shoulder.  "All right, Draco.  I'll give it some thought.  I'm not sure what I'll do, but I'll try to figure out something."

Malfoy looked relieved. "Well, that's all I'm asking.  I don't think you want to know what everyone is saying."

"Harry and Ron already told me."  Her head started to throb. "Well, good night Draco."  She gave him a little kiss on the cheek.  "And I'm sure you'll do fine at the audition."

"I'm planning to glamour my hair black for it.  I might seem much more evil that way."  He gave a theatre villain's laugh.  "Goodnight, my lovely."  Draco started to walk away.

"I'd shave the goatee, it's a little too Leonardo DiCaprio."  Hermione called out.

"Leonardo who?"  He chuckled and started to sing, "To Dream the Impossible Dream, To Fight the Unbeatable Foe…"

A window opened up and a man's voice called out, "Oi, if you're going to serenade your girlfriend, get a room and do it proper."  The window slammed shut.

Draco gave a bow and continued to walk away. "This is my Quest, to follow that Star, no Matter how Hopeless…."

Hermione giggled nervously and headed up to bed.  It took her a long time to fall asleep.  And when she did finally sleep, her dreams were haunted by green lights shooting out and around her as she ran through dark alleyways and streets searching for something very special that she had lost.

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Hermione had received Iolanthe's owl letting her know to meet at the Cambridge Tea Garden.  Once there, Hermione quietly sat amid a riot of both Muggle and Magical plants.  Some were vying for dominance.  The Flutterby Bush kept trying to shake off the Honeysuckle vine that had interweaved itself through its branches and, though one could hardly imagine it, the Muggle plants were somehow holding their own in this mixed garden.  More odd though was how the Snapdragons and Pixielilies peacefully cohabitated in the same flowerbed.  There were lovely white wicker chairs and glass-topped wicker tables.  Hermione had the garden to herself.  Two trays, one covered with sandwiches and the other filled with delicate pastries, appeared along with a beautiful silver tea service.  Hermione inhaled the scent of the tea mixed with the fragrance of the roses climbing the trellised walls of the garden.

Hermione choked on her tea when she spied a barely recognizable Iolanthe arrive.  The funny looking witch had been transformed into a walking advertisement from a fashion magazine.  She wore the latest in witches' haut couture -- robes of hand-dyed indigo, purple and marigold silk with gold threads woven through.  Her old beat-up witch's hat had been replaced by a fanciful confection of matching material complete with two cheeky cherubim and hovering hearts.  Her hair had been tinted a darker shade of red making it less blonde and more dramatic.  Her black eyeshades were gone, replaced with clear-lensed glasses, which beautifully highlighted her cosmetically enhanced yet still unfocused and wandering blue eyes.  She had on flat-heeled boots instead of the beat up trainers Hermione had last seen her wearing.  She was led in by a scarlet magical creature, which looked to be a cross between a mop and a Chinese dragon.

"Oh, Hermione.  Do I really look that bad?" Iolanthe moaned.  Just before she could bump into the table, the creature on the leash stopped her by letting out a short, high-pitched screech.  "You seem to be in complete shock.  Over my appearance, I'm assuming."

Hermione got up and gave her a peck on the cheek.  "No, you look beautiful.  Remus is very lucky.  I just didn't expect--"

"It's not my fault, love.  Almost the entire distaff side of my family descended on London to make my life a misery prior to the wedding.  It's been Milan for the clothing, Betsy Ross of Boston for the hair, Miramitsu of Tokyo for the boots, and the nails are by Sheila of Glastonbury.  She's my evil twin's nail artist.

Iolanthe showed Hermione her nails, which had been lacquered with animated romantic scenes of birds, waterfalls and rose-covered cottages.

"Very nice-You have an evil twin?"

"Why yes.  Heather.  She got married at sixteen and has popped out a baby like clockwork every three years since.  So, of course, being her sister, every three years I'm forced to play doula and I'm subjected to the horrors of being Auntie Vi.  Oh, Hermione, they don't come much more evil than she does." Iolanthe gave a half-hearted laugh and brought out a paper bag from her matching handbag.  Iolanthe pointed to the paper bag, "For when I can't catch my breath, anti-anxiety charms tend to give me hives…"

Hermione wasn't sure if Iolanthe was having her on or not.  "Well, why are they all doing this to you?"

"Guilt, I'm afraid.  When I first introduced Remus their collective attitude was, "Oh, it's a cursed adventurer, let's hope he goes away.  Now it's, oh, he's back - DON'T let him get away."  Iolanthe gasped with weak laughter and started to breath into the paper bag.  "They've even sent their hit man of love, Fifi the House Elf to live with us.  She's a sure guarantee that nine months after our wedding night, I'll be pushing out some little Lupin.  There's not a contraceptus spell that she can't annul.  Not that I mind having children, it really is Heather's turn to play doula after all, it's just, well, I'd like to have a say on my own life, and I just don't have that anymore."

Hermione smiled sympathetically.  "Umm, so how's Remus handling it?"

"I have a paper bag and he, my dear, has a sense of humor.  He didn't even flinch when my cousin, Sherringford, and my brother, Rhys, cleaned out their closets and donated him a whole wardrobe.  He just laughed and said 'thank you'."  Iolanthe paused and Hermione felt rather naked as Iolanthe's eyes roamed searchingly over her whole body.

"But Hermione, as much as I love to complain, I'm here to talk about you.  Something that you wrote in your last owl post has me worried.  You say right here," she pulled out the parchment from her bag and handed it down to her familiar who trilled out a few lines.

"Yes, thank you Shaggy,

'Well, it would have been so much better had he accepted some responsibility for the discipline of our children.  I mean I was always left to be the mean one.  He absolutely refused to ever say no to them, they totally ran roughshod over him and he loved it.  He was so goofy, too.  He'd make this sock puppet…' "

Iolanthe took Hermione's hand.  "By the Gods, Hermione.  What are you on about here? You are eighteen and there are no children.  From what you have said here, it sounds like much more went on in that soul mating than you have led me to believe."

"You knew what happened.  You, you said you were familiar with what happens during a soul mating."  Hermione felt a bit defensive.

"How much of Snape's life did you experience in that moment you shared?"  Iolanthe asked breathlessly.

"His ENTIRE life, of course, from being born to being on his death bed."   Hermione's jaws and hands were both clenched and she felt her eyes prickle with tears.  "I experienced it all in a wink of an eye.  But you knew this.  Didn't you?  Didn't you?"  Even now, it was incredibly hard for her to talk about it, although before the N.E.W.T.s it had been impossible and unthinkable.  She had run long and hard away from it all, but now the time for running had ended.

Iolanthe began to hyperventilate again, but dropped her bag on the ground.  Hermione folded her arms and sat back with resentment.  However, after watching Iolanthe's futile search for the bag, she relented and helped her find it.  After a few minutes, Iolanthe spoke with awe,  "This is remarkable. And you say you took notes?"

"You didn't know the scope of what had happened?"  Hermione continued to feel outraged.

Iolanthe continued breathing into her paper bag.  "No, Hermione," she gasped.  "I had no idea that you had experienced as much as you had.  By Merlin's Staff, no human being, much less a girl of 18 years should be put through such an ordeal. The man was a Death Eater.  I knew that something wasn't adding up, but had I known - no wonder you ran away.  You are a much stronger gel than I gave you credit for, and that is saying quite a lot."

"Actually, though it was rather awful living through the Death Eater phase, that wasn't what upset me most.  Well, I'm not a prude; however, the worst had to be knowing things that I just had no right to know at all.  Private male things, you know."  Anger flared in her eyes.

Iolanthe poked her nose out of the bag with lurid interest.  "Such as?"

"Why wizards prefer to wear robes.  Oh, and all those years that he'd give us a potion assignment and then go sit up at the head of the class correcting papers.  Well, he wasn't doing that at all.  He was fantasizing about Hooch, our Quidditch mistress!"

"Oh, they weren't having it off, were they?"  Iolanthe tried not to seem too keen for the information.

"No.  He was afraid to have a 'relationship' with her, so he'd just think about it.  For almost a decade he came up with scenarios of what he'd like to do with her, all while he was pretending to work!"

"My, my, aren't men such beasts?"  Iolanthe sniffed.  Her familiar gave out a whining protest.  "No, I didn't refer to you, Shaggy.  Oh, you'd like which one?

"Hermione, be a dear and give Shaggy the petit four with the little pink rosebud on it.  Oh, and I could use a cup of tea, black and with two lumps, and a roast beef sandwich if you see one."

Hermione huffed.  "Thank the gods he stops doing that after Hooch moves out from the castle.  I couldn't stand to think that he was still interested in her.  I just don't know how I'm going to go through with all this."

"Back it up girl, back it up.  Do what?  You don't have to do a damned thing.  In fact, you should just forget that it all happened.  Walk away.  You want to think that somehow, because of what he shared with you that it's your fate to be with him?  POPPYCOCK!"  Iolanthe ripped off a bite of sandwich and chewed indignantly.  She sipped her tea and continued,

"There is no such thing as fate or destiny.  We make our own and you don't have to be with the man.  Not at all.  You are not responsible for him or his happiness.  If he didn't want a fling with Couch, er, no Hooch, well, it's not your problem.  There are lots of lonely, ugly, unhappy men in midlife crisis.  You can have your pick of them.  Just move on from this.  It will all fade with time, I'm sure."  Her hands fluttered around her as if she could dismiss him like so much smoke.

"It has been fading," said Hermione.  "That's what's so awful.  I feel like it's now or never.  If I don't do something, I'm going to forget what there was."

"Well, that's healthy.  You don't want him.  Yes, he has a lovely soul, for some people suffering does ennoble, but that doesn't mean he's right for you."

"But he worships me, or he will.  He's always wondering how he can make me happy."

"That wasn't a time machine you were cruising on.  He might be making promises that he is unable to keep.  And are you sure you are even happy with him in that vision or whatever you want to call it?"

"I seem happy.  But it all happens from his perspective.  I never tell him what I want.  I keep him guessing."

"You are a clever girl, then.  Let me reiterate.  Say you want a familiar.  You don't go into the Magical Animals Shop and pick out the scrawniest, mangiest, meanest creature there.  No, you choose the one who will be the best familiar you could ever want."  She reached down and gave Shaggy a little kiss on top of its dreadlocked head.  "A present from Remus."

Hermione thought about her own familiar, Crookshanks.

Iolanthe continued, "Anyway, pity and sympathy should play no part in your selection of a mate.  And from what I have seen, Snape may be incapable of expressing himself emotionally, and be unavailable to you in many ways."

"I can't believe you are forcing me to defend him to you."

"That's not what I am trying to do.  I just want you to realize that nothing is written in stone.  Even if he's happy with you, it doesn't automatically go that you will be equally happy with him.  You can't trust this, it's not fate."

"Why was I given this information, then, if not to use it?"

"There may be an alternative way of seeing this.  His soul is very interesting, quite unique.  And yours, well, it's a very pleasant soul.  Hopefully it will stay that way and you will have a lovely life without much trial or tribulation.  It could be that the stress of your near demise caused him, I don't know, to have some sort of electrical discharge which attracted your rather normal soul.  It may be that his soul took and imprinted on yours a possible future with you, like a courtship display."

Hermione looked mulish.  "Well, that seems a much weaker theory than what Trelawney teaches."

Iolanthe looked flabbergasted. "Oh please, NOT Trelawney.  My heart goes out to her for having to teach all that drivel to her students, you couldn't pay me to do that, but she has no idea of the nature of the soul.  She thinks it's fixed at birth by our planets and nothing, but nothing will change that.  Total, utter stuff and nonsense.  The soul is in a state of flux.  I watch and I see.  It's influenced and changed by people and events all the time.  So please, Hermione, don't feel that somehow you must follow up on this.  You are free to make your own choices."  She gave Hermione's hand a squeeze.   

Hermione was still unconvinced; after all she'd taken the time to do her research and knew the arguments, both pros and cons.

"And if Sibyll's dumping an entire punch bowl of trifle over my head didn't convince me otherwise, I don't think your anecdotal evidence will either."  Iolanthe snuck her nose back into the brown paper bag and breathed deeply.

"And if I do love him?" Hermione said in a small voice.

Iolanthe studied Hermione for a long two minutes and smiled.  "Well, then the blessings of Viola Iolanthe go to both of you, of course.   Ah, Remus has arrived.  Now perhaps, we can test out some of these theories."

A/N:  Many thanks to all the wonderful people who have reviewed and given me so much support on this story:  Hungarian Horntail, Ezmerelda, Achilion, Tangerine Kisses, Marie, Moonglow 10066, Risi, Crissy, and Plastic.  I couldn't have done it without you.