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Discoveries 2/4Albus was waiting for him at the edge of the forest.
"It went well?" the Headmaster said with a look of relief. Severus supposed it did look that way: he was physically unharmed, a cry different from previous episodes.
"As well as possible," he answered, there was no point in saying more, here, now. They needed the privacy of the Headmaster's office for anything more.
Albus must have sensed that something was very wrong; he put his hand on Severus' shoulder and led him back to the castle in silence. Again a flash of déjà vu, Severus would have laughed at all the mocking similarities, doubles, in his life were it not for the calming draught. That second dose had succeeded in making him slightly numb, and, although the effect was fading again, for a brief moment it felt as if he were watching somebody else's life not his own. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry at that, so instead he sneered at himself.
Severus hated not being in control of his mind, his body, his life. Since the last was a pipe dream, the second once more an illusion, the first became more important than ever; if he could not control the last two he would at least be master of his own mind. It was one of the reasons he seldom used such potions. But this entire night had been a shock to his system; he was still far from coming to terms with these upheavals of his life. He still fought against resignation to his fate, however futile that rebellion was.
Suddenly they were standing in Albus' office and Severus cursed himself for his inattention – he was a spy again, he couldn't afford such daydreaming – and forced himself to focus on the present. Later, when he lay in bed and could not sleep, then there would be plenty of time for such fruitless thoughts.
He accepted the Headmaster's offer of tea and let the hot and sweet liquid sooth his spirit.
"What happened?"
Albus was sitting behind his desk, a grave expression on his face as he patiently waited for Severus to begin. Ah, where to start?
He recounted the details of his arrival at Riddle Mansion, enumerated as many of the wards he had been able to sense and recognize, and proceeded to give an account of the first Death Eater meeting in eleven years.
"Karkaroff didn't show; he's probably running as we speak. Voldemort's going to catch him though. There was another Death Eater missing, 'his most loyal servant', I don't know who that could be, not Black anyway. He said this Death Eater was close to you, close to the students, Potter in particular.
Then he turned his attention to me. He knows I betrayed him last time, of that I'm nearly certain. But he said that I would serve him now nonetheless and cast Cruciatus on me."
Dumbledore held out the tin with cookies and Severus declined.
"While I was recovering – I don't know how long he kept the curse on me – he dismissed the others. He talked to Malfoy for a while; about what, I couldn't hear. After he dismissed him he helped me to my feet and said he had somebody he wanted me to meet."
Severus paused and looked down at both his hands which were clenched to fists in his lap. He purposefully unclenched them and rested them on his legs before looking straight at Albus, straight into the Headmaster's blue eyes.
"Albus," he whispered roughly. "Voldemort has Harry Potter."
For a moment the Headmaster froze, but then he shook his head and smiled benevolently, that annoying twinkle in his eyes again.
"Nonsense, Severus. Mr Potter is safe with his relatives. The wards around the boy have not been disturbed. Not even Voldemort could have gotten around them without alerting me. It must have been a glamour, or maybe Polyjuice?"
"You don't understand! He has the real Harry Potter! He has for nearly two years!
"The Harry Potter we've been protecting, that's been attending Hogwarts, is an impostor, a Death Eater!"
Severus' voice rose in pitch and he stood up, pacing the office in agitation.
"Quirrell abducted Potter a few moments before Hagrid came to fetch him two years ago. He's been locked up in Riddle Mansion ever since. The diary, it leeched life-force off him, enough to enable a sixteen year-old Riddle to summon Lucius and have him plant the journal with the Weasley girl. She's only alive now because Riddle had already absorbed enough of Potter's life force that he didn't need all of hers!
"Your precious Potter is nothing but a Death Eater; if it hadn't been for Quentin – Quentin killed himself, it wasn't Lily's protection that set him aflame, Quentin managed to gain control long enough to stop Voldemort from getting his hand on the Stone, not your Gryffindor golden boy! Quentin – I killed –"
Severus' voice halted and he resolutely turned his back on the old man, tried to control his grief; a grief he had not allowed himself to feel for over a year. Albus' hand came down gently on his shoulder but Severus shrugged it off and returned to his seat, folded his hands in his lap, and continued in a monotone voice as he stared unseeingly straight ahead.
"Tom Riddle regained a body a month ago, he and Malfoy then travelled to the Black Forest to find Voldemort's sprit. It possessed Riddle, and with the aid of a restorative potion the two merged last night, Lord Voldemort has risen once again.
"He used his father's skull, one of Malfoy's fingers, and Potter's blood to complete the potion. He says Potter gave it willingly, I'm inclined to believe him: the two are positively besotted with each other. The boy's been studying dark potions and magic for two years, and now Voldemort wants me to tutor him, I'll be summoned tomorrow for his second lesson.
"Oh, and the boy speaks parseltongue. That is everything."
Looking older than his years Albus stood by his desk watching him.
"Everything?"
Severus thought for a moment.
"He said only four people know of the real Harry Potter's whereabouts: Voldemort himself, Potter, the impostor, and now me. If this comes out, he'll know I've betrayed him, and I don't think he'll let me get away with just a brush of Cruciatus for that."
"Does he know you're spying on him now?"
"I don't know, I truly don't know."
Severus was tired, exhausted all of a sudden. All he wanted to do was leave, hide in his dungeons, maybe even escape into the oblivion of Living Death. This had to have been one of the worst nights of his life and he just wanted for it to be over.
Dumbledore nodded and turned toward one of the cupboards.
"You haven't left anything out?" Albus asked in a neutral voice, it made Severus look up from his clenched hands.
"I haven't, why?"
Severus was starting to feel uncomfortable, a sentiment that only increased when he saw what the Headmaster had taken from the warded cupboard.
"You don't trust me." It was more a statement than a question. Even though he should have expected this, even though he had no right to expect Albus to leave it at that, the sight of the flask of colourless liquid, the bowl and its mercury like content, it hurt more than any amount of Cruciatus could.
"It's not a matter of trust, my dear boy. Such information I need to see for myself. Another's perspective can shed more light on a seemingly dire situation." The Headmaster had placed the two objects on the desk in front of Severus and rested one hand on Severus' shoulder.
"I told you everything, Headmaster, this isn't necessary."
Severus tried to get up but the hand on his shoulder was unyielding and kept him seated, kept him from escaping.
"I am afraid it is, Severus."
"Damn it, Albus, won't you trust me to tell you all you need to know."
"I think I will be the judge of what I do and do not need to know." There was an edge of steel to the Headmaster's voice and his blue eyes burned Severus as much as Voldemort's crimson ever had.
Severus averted his eyes, tried not to choke on the words, a last, desperate, whispered plea.
"You promised, Albus, you promised me never again. Please not this."
Albus gripped his chin and forced him to meet the older man's gaze as his other hand released Severus' shoulder and pressed the flask into his unresisting hands.
"I would not ask this of you if I didn't deem it necessary, dear Severus."
He closed his eyes and fought back tears as he brought the unstoppered vial to his lips and swallowed the modified Veritaserum in one go. Just before he lost all measure of control he bitterly acknowledged that a Potions Master should never invent a potion he was not willing to take himself, or at least had an antidote for.
During Voldemort's first reign Severus' had performed a number of tasks for the Dark Lord, inventing new potions had been one of them. The texts Potter had referred to, were the results of those endeavours and Voldemort held the only other copies than the ones he had stored safely warded in his chambers. The combining of Veritaserum and pensieve magic, however, had been one of the few finds Severus had kept secret from the Dark Lord. Albus was the only person he'd entrusted with that knowledge and the necessary instruments to implement it.
The principle was simple, a pensieve allowed memories to be seen and shared by others; Veritaserum dissolved the drinker's control to a level that they could only speak truthfully, could not control their answers: combining the two prevented memories from being altered. But Severus' genius had not stopped there. The pensieve itself had been cursed with a version of Imperius, and the Veritaserum had been modified, combined with other mind controlling substances, so that it allowed the interrogator to control the subject's thoughts, allowed him to find and force the desired memories into the pensieve.
There was no resistance possible; it even rendered the strongest of Obliviates useless. Only if the memory had been removed, obliterated from the subject's memory, only then the memory could not be retrieved, but the loss was at least made clearly visible as an outline of what had been taken.
Because the potion and the pensieve didn't require the subject to be conscious, or even sane, it was invaluable when gaining information from people who could otherwise not be questioned. But the danger of abuse was extreme. No memory, no thought or feeling, could be hidden; all could be copied to the pensieve, stored there for all to see, for all to experience.
For an intensely private man like Severus, a man who hated any and all loss of control over himself, the use was more of a violation than any rape could be and he had hated every minute it had been used on him. Albus was well aware of this. Severus still had nightmares that maybe some of the memories taken were in a pensieve somewhere he didn't know, accessible to the Ministry, Voldemort, anybody. And all those times it had been used on him it had been in the presence of Albus, done by Albus, the only person he'd ever trusted.
A detached numbness settled over his body and his mind. He was aware of the Headmaster's hand on the back of his neck, bringing his head above the bowl, the Headmaster's wand against his temple as he drew out the memories, as he searched through Severus' mind. Every now and then the Headmaster would take his hand and they would descend into the pensieve together, the Headmaster would ask him questions and he would answer them – not aware of what he was admitting – until he was told to stop or questioned on another memory.
It was finally over, the Headmaster's Finite Incantatem still ringing in his ears. Albus was putting away pensieve and potion, and Severus felt as if he had been dissected and then haphazardly put back together again. He shivered and pulled his robes tighter around himself, not able to prevent the deeply bitter scowl from forming on his face.
"Did you get everything you wanted, Albus?" he practically spit out.
The Headmaster nodded, and Severus quickly glanced away.
"Why can't you respect that there are things I don't want you to know?" he whispered. He pushed himself up and stood stiffly facing the older man.
"It is late, and it would appear I have class again tomorrow. If that is all, Headmaster…"
Albus looked at him a moment, piercing blue eyes pinning him where he stood, knowing his every secret, before he nodded. "Sleep well, Severus."
The lack of a comforting touch, no matter how often he had shrugged them off over the past years, felt as if he had been slapped in the face.
*~*
The next morning Severus was roused from fitful sleep by a persistent knocking on the door to his chambers. Grumbling he pulled on a robe and went to open the door. Albus stood there, annoying twinkle in his eyes, with a tray of breakfast in the air behind him. The scent of tea and toast wafted toward him and Severus stepped aside, allowing the Headmaster into his chambers.
"Good morning, Severus. Did you sleep well?" Albus asked cheerily as he settled into one of the comfortable chairs in front of the fireplace and put the tray on the table between them. Severus had seated himself on the worn couch.
"What do you think?" Severus couldn't help snapping. He hadn't taken Dreamless Sleep, couldn't afford to take Living Death in case he was summoned. The little sleep he had managed to grab had been restless and filled with disturbing dreams. "What do you want, Albus?"
"Severus," the tone in Albus' voice brooked no insolence, and Severus looked up to meet those sharp blue eyes. Albus' face was set in a grave expression, no twinkle, dead-serious. "We need to talk about what you are going to do when Voldemort summons you."
Ah, of course. Potter again. He should have known.
"We have little choice than to play along for now, I am afraid. Exposing the impostor will reveal you as a spy to Voldemort; you are too valuable for that. And we do not know what lies Voldemort has poisoned the boy with. I want you to teach the boy, find out his feelings toward Voldemort, toward us, what he knows, what lies he's been told.
"Find out whether he can be trusted if we retrieve him.
"I will keep an eye on the impostor: try and find out who we are dealing with."
Severus nodded, accepted the cup of sweetened tea offered. There was nothing else to say; he was again to look out for Potter, the real one this time. And this one was no doubt even worse than the one he'd had the pleasure of teaching the past two years. A traitorous voice whispered in his mind that that was a lie, that the Harry Potter he'd seen the night before was nothing like the arrogant, foolish boy at Hogwarts. He ignored it ruthlessly.
They sat in silence, drinking their tea and eating breakfast. Severus was reminded of other times, happier times, when they had done the same, and he tried to forget.
"Severus." This time it was a gentle whisper, and so close that it startled him. Severus looked up from the empty tea cup he had been staring into morosely to find that Albus had moved and was now sitting next to him. There was a sad look on the older man's face. When he carefully took Severus' hand in his own, this time Severus didn't pull away.
"Dear Severus, I am so sorry you have to go through this. I know what I am asking of you, I am aware of your sacrifice, and I wish it could be otherwise."
"Albus –"
"No, let me finish, Severus. I hate that I asked you to go to him, and I will never forgive myself for it. If there was any other way… But there isn't, and it grieves me so.
"Look at me, Severus. I trust you, never doubt that, and you make me proud. I will be here for you when you return, I'll be waiting for you, I promise."
Albus' hand stroked his cheek and this time Severus leant into the touch, closed his eyes and savoured it. It had been so long.
"Sweet Severus," it was a whisper and Albus was pulling him against him, into his arms. Severus gripped the Headmaster's bright blue robes tightly. He buried his head in the other man's chest, felt the prickly beard against his face, as he tried not to choke on the tears fighting to surface.
"I'm sorry I got angry last night."
"Shhh, it's all right."
"I understand why – It's just – Albus, I'm sorry, I know you won't betray me."
"I have you, child." Albus murmured in his ear, stroking his back soothingly until Severus started to relax. He did understand; he knew the Headmaster could not take a risk like that, that it was the rational thing to do in the circumstances. If only that knowledge would make it hurt less.
He didn't know how long they sat there like that, Albus holding him for the first time in so many years. He didn't want to analyse the 'why now'. Instead he just let his mind go blank and enjoyed this brief taste of what he'd been denied for so long, what he'd ached for even though he understood why it could no longer be, even though he'd accepted Albus' reasons.
It couldn't last, of course. Pain knifed through the mark on his left arm, settled into a dull throb he couldn't ignore. Albus noticed the sudden tension in his body, broke the embrace. He glanced briefly at the mark, hidden beneath Severus robes, and then took Severus' face in both his hands.
"Be careful, Severus." The Headmaster's blue eyes roamed his face, seemed to search for something. After a moment he smiled, leaned forward and pressed his lips briefly, chastely, to Severus'.
"Come back to me. I'll be waiting for you."
Not trusting his voice, Severus nodded dumbly. Albus smiled again, made the remains of their breakfast disappear with a flick of his wand, then squeezed Severus' shoulder as he stood up and made his way to the door.
"Good luck."
Severus shook his head when the door closed behind the Headmaster and grimaced at the pain in his arm. He needed to get going, to stop wasting time. He would not disappoint Albus.
He quickly got dressed, headed out of Hogwarts and to the Forbidden Forest where he could apparate. He reappeared in the same graveyard, standing next to the disturbed grave of Voldemort's Muggle father. When he entered the mansion the hall was silent, but the Dark Mark pulsed and pulled him to the dungeon, down the stairs to the potions laboratory that had been a gift from Voldemort to him, to 'his sweet Slytherin Potions Master' over a lifetime ago.
Voldemort, the boy, and Nagini were already there, sitting at one of the tables eating breakfast and speaking in parseltongue. Severus stood watching them, feeling like an intruder, as he waited for the Dark Lord to acknowledge his presence.
"Ah, Severus, how good of you to join us. Have you already eaten?"
Severus knew it was paranoia, thinking that Voldemort knew what had happened at Hogwarts, there was no way he could know. Yet the impression stayed and Severus nervously licked his lips.
"I have, my Lord, thank you for your
offer."
"Think nothing of it. Come, join us." He indicated the chair opposite him and
Potter; Nagini was coiled around the chair Voldemort was sitting on, half in
his lap and he was stroking her flat head while he spoke.
"Harry here is quite excited about his lessons, aren't you?"
The boy blushed and smiled at Tom, nodding eagerly.
"I have some reading to do." Severus' eyes flicked to the pile of Dark Arts books on the table. "So, please, don't mind me."
"I'll need to know what Mr Potter has already learnt."
Tom quirked an eyebrow.
"I'm not the one you should be asking. And there's no need to be so formal, I'm sure Harry would prefer to be addressed by his first name." Voldemort flashed him a grin and then turned to the boy, ran his hand through Potter's hair. "I'm sure Severus won't mind you calling him that either."
"You don't?" the boy asked him, his green eyes, half-hidden behind those ridiculous glasses, were open and filled with a barely contained excitement.
"No, I would be… honoured if you called me Severus… Harry."
Voldemort smirked at Severus' obvious discomfort, then made the left-over breakfast disappear with an exaggerated wave of his wand and picked up one of the books. He made a show of opening it, looking for his page, and pretending to ignore them.
Severus closed his eyes briefly, breathed deeply, and tried to put on his most reassuring face for the boy. Considering the fact that he was not in the habit of reassuring his pupils the expression looked slightly pained.
"Very well…. Harry. Tell me what you already know about the subtle art of potion making."
This caused a veritable waterfall of words as Harry proceeded to list all the Potions books he had read, nearly everything Voldemort had on the subject, Severus was sure.
Severus raised his hands to stop the flow and silence the boy.
"You seem to have a … firm grasp of the theory, so we shall focus first on putting it to practice. The potion you made last night was surprisingly adequate for such a novice, but you still have much to learn. There's more to Potions than throwing the ingredients together, you need to know how to cut, how to stir. You need to learn how to see the magical properties coming together, becoming something new. Learn to discern the subtleties of changing colour and texture: this ability can only be learnt firsthand, not from a book."
As he spoke Severus found himself relaxing into the role of teacher, and for once he seemed to have an appreciative audience, if the look of intent concentration on Potter's face was anything to go by.
He led the boy to one of the work benches, had him cut slugs, dice dandelions, and grind beetles. He showed Potter how to hold a knife properly, and when they started on a third year level healing potion Severus taught the boy how to stir in a perfect figure of eight. The potion needed to be stirred at a constant speed for nearly an hour and Severus explained why it had to be done manually and could not be done by magic as he cleaned up. They discussed different kind of healing potions; Severus had the boy explain the difference between them, give reasons why certain ingredients reacted badly to others.
Severus was grudgingly impressed by the boy's skill and knowledge, his insight. He could rival that Granger girl in his obvious enthusiasm to learn, but with none of the obnoxious arrogance she displayed. Again the potion Potter made was perfect, as good as Severus could have ever made it. Despite the situation, Severus found he was enjoying himself, even looking forward to teaching this boy, already thinking out a curriculum that would improve the boy's practical skills sufficiently to start brewing some of the really complex potions. During this all, however, he was aware of Voldemort, sitting at the table with his snake familiar, those red eyes watching them.
They had a break for lunch during which Potter questioned him ceaselessly about the potions, the poisons, he had devised for Voldemort and documented in his books. The boy's innocent passion for the subject reminded Severus of himself, of how naïve he'd been until he'd finally seen the consequences of his experiments. Voldemort stayed silent, smiling indulgently at the boy every time he asked the Dark Lord a question and answering them all. There was hardly any red in his eyes – they were nearly the same green as Potter's – and Severus was caught by the similarities between the two. If he hadn't known better he would have thought the two were siblings.
After lunch he had Potter brew a more complex potion, sixth year level: Dreamless Sleep. It took them the rest of the afternoon and into the evening to brew, but not once did the boy become bored with the long periods of stirring, or the meticulous preparation of ingredients. Although he did complain about his arm threatening to fall off, which made Voldemort laugh and then take over the ladle for a while to let Potter rest. Potter pulled himself up onto the bench next to Voldemort and leaned against the Dark Lord as he and Severus continued to discuss the pro's and con's of Dreamless Sleep and other soporific potions.
After Potter had bottled the potion and put away everything they'd used, Voldemort led them upstairs to the kitchen where dinner was waiting for them. Severus was surprised by how late it was, and the boy was trying to hide his yawns. When Voldemort told him it was time to go to bed he protested, saying there was still so much he wanted to ask Severus.
"Severus will be here again tomorrow, Harry, there's no rush. You need to be well rested; I'm sure Severus will agree with me that it wouldn't do to fall asleep above a bubbling cauldron. Come, let's get you to bed. Severus, I'll be down in a minute."
"But Tom…" the boy wheedled, Voldemort just picked him up and started hissing in parseltongue as he carried Potter out of the room, Nagini at his heels. Severus heard the boy laugh and he stared down at the empty tea cup in front of him.
"So, what do you think of Harry?"
Severus looked up startled; he hadn't noticed Voldemort's return.
"He is… talented, my Lord. And eager to learn."
Voldemort smiled fondly as he nodded and sat down at the table again. "Yes, he is."
They sat in silence for a while, until Severus finally found the courage to ask one of the questions that had been bothering him all day.
"Does he know about his parents?"
The smile disappeared from the Dark Lord's face immediately and his eyes burned crimson.
"No," Voldemort spoke harshly, "nor will he." There was no mistaking the threat in those three little words, and Severus knew this was not a subject to raise again unless he wanted to attract Voldemort's wrath.
"Tell me about Hogwarts, about Dumbledore. You've been close to the old fool for so many years now, tell me his secrets. What does he plan to do about me?"
"He is worried, but he has not told me much, my Lord."
Voldemort sneered. "Tell me what you know, Severus."
Severus swallowed and then began recounting Dumbledore's reaction to Voldemort's resurrection, how he had sealed the basilisk inside the Chamber of Secrets, and that there were special wards up protecting Ginny Weasley and the impostor Harry Potter. Albus and he had agreed that he could reveal this to Voldemort to gain the Dark Lord's trust.
After a while Severus started to get the feeling Voldemort wasn't really listening, and he squirmed uncomfortably under the Dark Lord's roving gaze.
"Severus," he interrupted.
"Yes, my Lord?"
Voldemort leaned back in his chair and let his legs fall to the side. He grinned and slowly moved one hand up along his inner thigh.
"That is all quite interesting, and I look forward to hearing you further betray Dumbledore's trust. But for now, I think I'd rather have your mouth do other things than… talk."
Severus closed his eyes as he only just managed to whisper his reply.
"Yes, Master."
He got up and moved to Voldemort, knelt between those spread legs as he avoided looking up at the Dark Lord, instead concentrating on the task before him. He had done worse things before, it could have been worse, he could do this.
Voldemort ran one hand along his face, ran his fingers through Severus' hair that he had spent last night washing several times. For years he had used a potion to keep it from interfering with his work, he didn't care that it left his hair greasy and generally repugnant. Now he'd switched back to the charm he had used all those years back. He made a brief mental note to teach Potter the same charm while he carefully pushed aside the Dark Lord's robes and undid his pants.
"Yesss," Voldemort hissed and his hands tightened in Severus hair.
Don't think about anything, don't think about who you're doing this for, don't remember the last time, don't remember, don't think. Severus repeated the mantra in his mind as he concentrated on pleasuring the Dark Lord. Maybe if he concentrated, did his best, he could make this fast, could end this soon.
But then Voldemort was tugging his hair, pulling Severus away. He forced Severus to look up into those crimson eyes as the smirk on the Dark Lord's face turned truly malevolent.
"Take your time, Severus, I am in no hurry. It's been a while for me and I would like to enjoy this."
His hand gently stroked Severus' cheek, entirely at odds with the evil grin and his next words.
"When was the last time? Ah yes, I remember, nearly two years now. Quentin and I were both quite… distressed when you refused to let us into your chambers any more, or come to ours."
Severus felt his throat tightening and he closed his eyes again, relieved when Voldemort said no more but urged him back to his groin. Voldemort's hands ran through his hair, held his head and urged him on. Severus knew better than to restrain the Dark Lord's hips, so he relaxed and let himself be fucked hard as Voldemort started hissing in that mixture of parseltongue and obscenities Severus hadn't heard in over a decade.
Severus lost himself in the familiar motions and feelings, felt his own arousal growing. Voldemort went rigid and came, choking him. Severus swallowed and swallowed, knowing better than to spill a drop, gulping air in through his nose.
He heard Voldemort sigh and Severus glanced up as he pulled away; he gently licked the Dark Lord clean. Voldemort's eyes were heavy lidded, a mixture of green and red, and there was a look of satisfaction on his face as he watched Severus' gentle ministrations. Finally he pushed Severus away and tucked himself back in his pants, pulled his robes straight. The Dark Lord stood up and indicated for Severus to rise as well. He stepped up close to him, pressed his thigh against the bulge concealed beneath Severus' robes before looking at his face again. Severus felt his cheeks burn in humiliation and he wished he could wash away the bitter taste of Voldemort's seed on his tongue.
Voldemort brought his mouth to Severus' ear and whispered. "It's good to have you back, Severus. I will summon you again tomorrow." With that he turned around and left, leaving Severus standing in the middle of the kitchen floor, still aching.
A short moment to regain himself enough to leave – he knew a dismissal when he heard one – and Severus pulled his robes tightly around himself, shivering despite the warm summer air outside.
"Lumos," and he had enough light to guide him away from the Mansion, back to the graveyard.
When he appeared at his usual spot in the Forbidden Forest Albus was waiting for him. With the pensieveritaserum.
* This part has been edited to stay within the R-rating rules of ff.net. To read the unedited version copy and remove the excess spaces for the following link to my livejournal: www . livejournal . com / users / ntamara / 66292 . html (And of course, don't forget to review ;)