Breathe deep the gathering gloom
Watch lights fade from every room
Bedsetter people look back and lament
Another day's useless energy's spent
Impassioned lovers wrestle as one
Lonely man cries for love and has none
New mother picks up and suckles her son
Senior citizens wish they were young
Cold-hearted orb that rules the night
Removes the colors from our sight
Red is grey and yellow white
And we decide which is right
And which is an illusion
Epilogue from the song, "Nights in White Satin," by The Moody Blues
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Chapter 9: Illusion
It was a strange time of year in northern England . . . it was early June, and the daylight hours were dominated by balmy and clear weather, but at night, the atmosphere would begin to shimmer and change. The sky would become increasingly sunless, yet it would still reflect an odd recalescent glow as the air cooled abruptly. It was as if a chilled blanket had been suddenly placed across a heated body and woe to any wizard who was caught outdoors without a warmer robe.
"Luckily for me, thick black fur works just fine too," thought Sirius Black.
He was currently trotting down a wooded path, in the timberland surrounding York and his sharpened sense of smell told him that he was getting nearer and nearer to his intended destination.
Sirius loved being a dog, there was nothing quite like it . . it was as if, whilst in canine form, he was personified elemental energy. His world was reduced to a swirl of odors, flashing mental images and overwhelming physical urges. And best of all, there were no moral dilemmas, no human frailties and certainly no human regrets. Most of the time, anyway. He reckoned that personal dealings with the female population of either species did not count.
Yes indeed . . . all in all, it's much better being a dog.
He paused in a clearing of the woods, his inky blackness hiding him well from anyone who might be looking out the windows of the magnificent domain that was known as Malfoy Manor. Stepping behind a tree, he returned to human form, which lent the ability for more complex thinking. Looking at the estate, he half expected to hear the theme from that Muggle horror film he'd sneaked into during his teenaged years. . . the one with the bells. What had it been called?
Ah, yes. The Exorcist.
He let out a deep, dog-like snort as he looked closer at the building . . . this was no manor, it was more like a sodding fortress. Luckily, the estate was no longer guarded like The Citadel of Hell, now that Lucius had been dispatched to the underworld.
"He's probably been appointed as Head Incubus and is now spending eternity fucking the stuffing out of some fat Muggle housewife in Pembridge," thought Sirius, shivering with delight. "That's why they call it Hell."
He gave a pointy-toothed grin and shaking off his rather entertaining thoughts, he once again examined the imposing Malfoy domain. He couldn't help feeling rather cheerless at the sight. In fact, it looked rather pathetic in its crumbling grandiosity, like a stately politician who'd been corrupted by booze and scandal. And not for the first time, it occurred to him that he never really knew why Narcissa had abandoned her previous life to live as a prisoner to Malfoy family values.
She's not my cousin.
Since that fateful morning when he'd learned of his true relationship with Narcissa Malfoy, he'd thought of nothing else. Apart from the first few minutes of the revelation, he spent very little time dwelling on the feelings of betrayal and regret as there would be enough time for all that in the future. This was an old-fashioned mystery and he was determined to get to the bottom of it.
My life has been an illusion.
Who had done this to him? Being the pureblood that he was, he knew that there were likely a thousand reasons why any examination of blood would be savagely suppressed, so the question why was not such a mystery. Ancestry and blood relationships were of paramount importance and anything to upset the balance was sure to cause great upheaval. No indeed . . . the real question was who?
Who am I really? Or did the mystery lie with her?
As he gazed upon the Malfoy estate, he scanned the small buildings surrounding the compound, until he found what he was looking for. There, off to the east and near the manor kitchen, was the caretaker's little cottage. Sirius was trying to figure out how he was going to approach the building when, once again, he was favoured with a bit of luck. His sharp sense of smell caught the whiff of a kitten that was currently rooting around in the caretaker's trash and he got a sudden inspiration.
Oh this is going to work like a dream.
Turning himself back into a dog, he scampered across the yard and manoeuvred himself near the kitten, moving slowly so as not to startle the little creature. Fortunately, the feline was so absorbed in trying to find something to eat that she didn't notice the large black paw descending upon her until it was too late. Sirius gingerly picked up the furry mite and cheerfully loped over to the caretaker's door.
When he heard the scratching, the caretaker was absolutely charmed when he opened the door. There, sitting demurely at his doorstep, was a magnificent large black dog, holding a small, pathetic orange kitty by the scruff of it's furry little neck. It was obviously half-starved and when the black dog put the kitten down, the big hulk let out a very pitiful whimper.
The old man heard the word, "awwww" echo in his head, his heart literally melting at the sight. He was so charmed that he didn't notice the large paw landing with a "thunk" on the back of the confused kitten when said little cat tried to run away.
The black dog very gently picked the kitten up again. "Come along," the old man muttered, as he lead them across the yard, to the manor kitchen. He opened the door, letting the animals in whilst he gathered some scraps. When he turned around, he was surprised to see the kitten, sitting patiently for her supper.
The dog was nowhere to be found.
x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x
Draco had never felt so serene in all his life. He'd just made love to his future wife, he was surrounded by the grandeur of the Himalayas, he hadn't seen Potter in over three hours and he was going to be king.
It was an understatement to say that he felt an extreme sense of self-satisfaction.
I love being me.
He tightened his arms to snuggle the warm, soft woman lying on top of him. As far as he was concerned, she was the most magnificently breathtaking woman he'd ever known. He gently stroked her hair, and poetically (or so he thought) compared its colour to that of a rich, expensive claret. Turning his head towards her he tugged on a lock, causing her to wince slightly.
"So what do you want to do now?" he asked playfully.
Draco's silly question seemed to bring Ginny out of a pleasant daydream. She was lying with her thigh flung over his legs, tracing patterns on his delightfully smooth chest. She lifted her head and looked at him with shining eyes.
"I dunno. What do you want to do?" she shot back.
"I dunno," he mimicked. "Perhaps we should have another go. I think the Duke is ready for round three."
"The Duke?" Ginny looked puzzled.
"Erm, you know . . . my, erm . . . my love stick."
Ginny snorted in disbelief. "You mean you've actually named your pe-"
"Yes, yes!" said Draco impatiently. "Doesn't everyone?"
"Why are you asking me? I don't have one," said Ginny dryly.
Draco smirked before continuing. "And thank Merlin for that. You see, it all came about when I once visited a combination candy and joke shop in Knockturn Alley called "Tarts & Farts" . . . perhaps you've heard of it? No? Well anyway, I got the idea to name the Duke after seeing a display of phallus shaped chocolate lollipops . . . they were called, "Dick on a Stick", and each one had its own special name. And best of all, they were charmed to do really disgusting . . ."
"I can imagine," Ginny interrupted. She apparently couldn't help the giggle that escaped. "But if you think I'm going to ever personally address your Best Bit as "The Duke", you're out of your mind."
"'Best Bit' will do just fine, then."
Ginny gave an exaggerated sigh and laid her head back down to his chest. They were quiet for a few minutes, just enjoying the feel of each other and this rare occasion when their lives were not in total turmoil. However, Draco couldn't help but feel that the stillness was just an illusion . . . the old proverbial 'calm before the storm'.
Perhaps we need a diversion.
"So, what do you want to do now?" he finally asked again, in a wheedling tone.
Ginny gave him a pointed looked. "I know what you're getting at, you sex fiend. I just need a little time to catch my breath! Maybe we can spice things up and drink the rest of our Polyjuice. I've always fancied a try at lovemaking as a man. How would you like to be sexually ravished by Neville Longbottom?" She laughed at the horrified look on Draco's face, as he made a gagging sound.
"Good Lord, you'll give me nightmares." He added with a chuckle, "Kinky mare." He leaned in for a tender kiss.
They enjoyed a contented silence until Draco's voice once again penetrated the thin air. "So, speaking of Longbottom, how did this all come about? Last we spoke, I was going to send for you."
"What can I say? Weasleys are not exactly known for their patience. It was interesting, really. I just approached Hermione, moaning to her about how much I missed you, how we'd just taken our relationship to a new level when you had to go away, and how the separation was killing me. She's been working like a slave on that counterspell, by the way, and she thinks she may be close to solving it."
"It can't be soon enough for me. So . . . what happened next?"
"So, she got all gooey-eyed when I was talking, mumbled something about hormones, and said, 'Oh, for heaven's sake. Of course I'll help!' The next thing you know, I'm Apparating across two continents as Neville Longbottom."
Draco's silver eyes widened with surprise. "I'll be buggered! I'm really beginning to like this rule-breaking side to Granger . . . I always thought of her as a goody-goody with a big fat stick up her arse."
"I'll be sure to tell her you said so."
Draco waved a dismissive hand. "She already knows. And anyway, of all people! Neville Longbottom?" Draco said his name as if the very sound of it split his eardrums.
Ginny shrugged her shoulders. "Apparently Severus has all kinds of strange stuff in his potions stores, including an astonishing array of hairs taken from the heads of former students. He had some Polyjuice that had been completed just to the part where you add the hair, so it didn't take long to make. It was something that he'd done for the Order, according to Hermione. I thought it best not to ask why."
"Probably wise. And I can't wait to find out how Severus reacts to her once again stealing from his stores to make Polyjuice. I'm thinking that must be some weird power struggle thingy between them. He's a total control freak, you know."
"I know," she chuckled.
There was yet another lull in the conversation before she once again raised her head to study him closely. "Perhaps we should talk about it," she announced suddenly.
"What on earth are you talking about now?" Draco was certain he'd never get used to her tangential leaps in conversation.
Ginny huffed in exasperation. "You asked me to marry you, remember? That's big, I mean really, really big. Have you told anybody that you were going to ask me?"
"Nope. You're the first to know."
"Mmmm."
"Mmmmm what?"
"It's like I said, this is big . . . and it's going to affect a lot of people, not just us."
Draco shook a tousled, arrogant head. "No, the Duke is big . . . marriage is just inevitable."
"How very romantic," she said sarcastically. "So, if that's the case, when should I start sending out wedding invitations?"
Draco immediately sat up, almost flinging Ginny onto the grass in the process.
"You can't tell anybody yet, Gin. I'm not ready to take on that battle," he said urgently.
"What are you on about?"
"Come now! Don't tell me that it hasn't occurred to you that there will be opposition to this marriage, not only from both sets of parents, but from the Ancient Houses, as well. Those who would oppose me would love it if I was caught by surprise. No . . . it's going to take a maximum of Slytherin Cunning to pull off this marriage. Luckily I have an amazing amount of S.C. so I'm sure we'll do nicely."
Ginny fought an uneasy feeling, but just quilled it up to nerves. It suddenly occurred to her that they'd been alone together for a very long time.
"Shouldn't we get dressed?" she asked. "Before someone comes looking for you?"
"You mean, as in Potter? Trust me, love. Potter is having a great time right now, giving himself a nice toss, I'm sure. "And, no doubt, thinking of you," he added mentally. It was not a thought he would ever say out loud.
"Still, somebody could be looking for you," she insisted.
"Like who? The yeti? Gin, nobody is going to come traipsing up this mountain, looking for us. We're in the middle of nowhere. And the Duke is quite eager," he said rakishly, as he rolled over on top of her.
Suddenly they heard a loud pop.
"Hi!"
Draco twirled and gave an embarrassingly high-pitched yelp, wand pointed at the direction of the sound. Harry was looking down at them, or more precisely, he was looking away from them, his face crimson. He'd apparently Apparated to that very spot.
"Fancy meeting you here," he said casually.
As was inevitable, Draco began to shout. "FOR THE LOVE OF NIMUE! You scared the holy fuck out of . . . out of Ginny, you moron! Then he remembered their state of undress.
Merlin's marinated gonads! Potter had seen him naked!
"I'll never feel clean again," he thought fleetingly, as he dived under the blanket. Ginny was half a second behind him.
Then he went absolutely spare.
"AM I EVER, EVER GOING TO SHAG AGAIN WITHOUT BEING RUDELY INTERRUPTED?" he roared at Potter. "THIS IS GOING TO BE MY FIRST DECREE WHEN I'M CROWNED: HIS MAJESTY PRINCE DRACO OF AVALON WILL HENCEFORTH BE ASSURED OF THE RIGHT TO ENGAGE IN COITUS ABSOLUTUS UNINTERRUPTUS! ANYONE WHO IGNORES SAID DECREE AND INTERRUPTS THE ROYAL RUTTING WILL DIE A GHASTLY AND PAINFUL, PAAAAAINFUL DEATH! THEN I SHALL HAVE SAID PERSON BROUGHT BACK TO LIFE AND KILLED AGAIN IN A SIMILAR FASHION! "
Ginny had a strange hybrid expression on her face, as if she didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
"I'm sorry," said Harry in a small voice, sounding genuinely regretful. "It's just that Eldorf sent me out to find you. We've news from home."
Draco muttered a conjuring spell, and instantly he and Ginny were back in their robes. "News? What news?"
Harry couldn't quite meet their eyes. "We're to go back to the cave and pack our things. Hermione broke the magical code of the Antequam Eructo spell a few hours ago and was able to come up with a counter-spell. She's tested it and re-tested it and it apparently works. We're going home, Malfoy. And oh, uh . . . hullo Ginny."
Ginny just gave him a silent, mortified wave. Draco reached down to help her to her feet.
"Well at least you spoiled our interlude with good news. But I'm still royally cheesed off," he sniffed.
"Believe me, I would rather have not seen what I saw," Harry muttered, in a traumatized tone. "And Malfoy?"
"Yes, wanker."
"You are the most disgustingly hairless man I've ever seen."
That's it. The tosser has insulted my looks. The truce is officially over.
x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x
The inside of Malfoy Manor was certainly no improvement to the outside. The air was stale and musty, as if any aura of life had been swept away for hundreds of years. Sirius could see where someone, perhaps Narcissa, had tried to give the place a more modern cheer, but the gothic ambiance totally overwhelmed such meager attempts. Most of it looked to be centuries old and not in a good way.
"This place is like a bloody mausoleum," he thought with distaste.
He tried not to feel sorry for Narcissa, but for the first time in years, his usual contempt for her had fled. She lived here . . . had lived here for twenty-five years and all he had to do was look around at the shattered pomposity to know that she had paid a very high price to become a Malfoy.
"She asked for it," a part of him snarled.
Since he'd escaped from Azkaban, some twelve years earlier, Sirius had found the old cliché, "time heals all wounds", to be pure and complete bullocks. Somewhere, deep in the recesses of his injured soul, he was still in mourning for the loss of the precious time and opportunity that his confinement had caused. Sometimes the pain of it would well up at the most unlikely of moments . . . whilst watching a Hogwarts Quidditch match, or observing children eating ice cream in Hogsmeade . . . and once when he'd first heard the plaintive notes of Puccini.
And sometimes, even whilst in the throes of an ecstatic orgasm, he felt a blunt blade of anguish tear through his soul, as well. It had been that way for as long as he could remember. He figured that if it hadn't been for the events in the aftermath of James and Lily's deaths, he would have found some beautiful, worshipful witch, settled down and gotten married.
Would it have been Narcissa?
He savagely put that thought down as he continued to move through the bottom floor. There didn't seem to be anything alive within miles of him, yet he crept up the stairs slowly, mindful of any creaks or missteps. He didn't really know what he was looking for, but he figured whatever it was, he should probably start with Narcissa and Lucius' private quarters. Or perhaps, he would just confront her. He was still indecisive as he reached the second floor of the Manor.
Did she know? Had she known all these years that they'd been lovers? That they were not blood related?
Please God. I don't think I could take it if she's kept this from me for all these years.
When he'd first had the opportunity to contemplate what Remus had told him, his initial and overriding emotion had been anger . . . intense and unrelenting anger. But, as was usual when he was in the werewolf's company, cooler heads prevailed and Remus had pointed out to him that he really didn't know what Narcissa knew about the past.
For all he knew, she'd been duped, just as he'd been. And for the first time, as he crept up those stairs, he fervently hoped that she knew nothing of the truth.
Otherwise, I just might kill her.
He quietly began opening the doors along the hallway, but they all seemed to have been unused for many, many years. Finally, he reached a set of large French doors at the end of the hallway and he instinctively knew it was her room.
Taking a deep breath, he silently pushed open the door and cautiously peered inside. The room was dark . . . it was late after all, but through the partially obscured moonlight, he was able to make out a figure on the overlarge bed.
Narcissa's long blonde hair was spread out across the pillow and she'd apparently flung her arm up over her face, sometime during her sleep. He felt a tug of familiarity at seeing her sleeping form.
"Time to get some answers," he thought to himself. Looking around the room, he pulled out his wand to cast a spell that old Mad-Eye had taught him years ago, when they'd all been together at Twelve Grimmauld Place. It was designed for Aurors who were searching for Dark items in the homes of suspected Death Eaters.
"Acclaro Occultus," whispered Sirius, looking around the room.
Immediately, it was as if all the solid structures in the room had turned to air. It reminded Sirius of a very racy Muggle colouring book that Remus had shown him whilst they'd been to school at Hogwarts . . . everything in outline, waiting to be coloured in.
Sirius looked down and through the floor, he could see the room lying just underneath them. He looked over at the east wall of her bedroom and was disgusted to see that a family of rather large mice had made a huge nest near the corner. Slowly he began turning around the room until his eye caught something unusual in what appeared to be a closet.
"This must have been added later," he thought. "Old manors do not have closets."
He walked over to the closet and saw that a series of bowls were lined up behind the far wall. That was atypical in and of itself, but what really drew his attention was a lone bowl, separated from the rest, in a different hidden compartment. Sirius had the ridiculous notion that this was the Head Bowl . . . the leader of the bowls, so to speak.
That's the one I want.
He stepped into the closet, wand pointed at the concealed niche and whispered, "Dissendium!" Immediately, a magical door was opened and Sirius could clearly see that the bowl was actually a Pensieve. He eagerly took it, and plopping himself on the floor of the closet, he placed the Pensieve front and centre.
Without hesitation, he put his hands in the bowl.
His own image was the first thing he saw . . . he'd been young, probably no more than nineteen or twenty and he was wearing a pair of his favorite ripped pair of Muggle blue jeans and a tight black t-shirt. He was getting off his flying motorbike and had reached up to take the helmet off his head, flinging his goggles aside with an impatient gesture. He gave a vigorous shake of his head as he unfurled his long and shaggy hair. Sirius watched as his image pushed his mane out of his face and suddenly the young boy's eyes lit up as another figure came running to him.
Narcissa. This was her memory.
They were standing outside the doorstep of his cottage in Blindley Heath, which had been bequeathed to him by an old dotty uncle on his mother's side. It had been his favorite sanctuary during his Hogwarts years and his parents, never very attentive to begin with, allowed him to spend many weeks of uninterrupted jolly-making with the lads during the holidays. When he'd finally moved in with the Potters, he and James had spent most of the summers there.
It appeared to be early spring as the trees were just beginning to bud.
She was wearing a light summer robe, yet she'd pulled the hood up over her head, as if to hide her identity. When she pulled it down, the sun caught her golden hair in a dazzling way and Sirius sucked in his breath at the sight. There was no denying that Cissy had always been very alluring.
Then he noticed her tear-streaked face.
Their images looked around quickly, as if checking for the presence of spying eyes. Sirius found that interesting and thought that perhaps they weren't supposed to be seeing each other.
His image self didn't say a word to her, he just grabbed her hand and pulled her through the doorway. Sirius followed them right through the seemingly solid door and shadowed them to his small parlour, if it could have been called that. It had been was more like a bachelor party room. He noticed several empty bottles of Ogden's strewn about the place and grinned.
He hadn't been there in almost twenty-five years.
His image lead her to the sofa, sitting himself next to her and he put a comforting hand to her cheek.
Sirius was struck by the way they were looking at each other. Such naked hunger. . . . they'd been far too young to ever hide it. He found himself looking upon the scene with a sense of poignant longing.
Finally Sirius' image spoke. "So what is it? Your owl this morning sounded very urgent. I told the Potters that I had business in London so I could meet with you. It's best if nobody knows that we're still seeing each other right now."
Narcissa, nodding, was weeping in earnest and Sirius lifted one of her hands reverently to kiss it. "Hush now Cissy, tell me what's wrong. Why are you crying?"
Narcissa spoke softly. "I found out something, Sirius. I found out something that is so devastating I just don't know what to do." More tears leaked from her china-blue eyes.
"What did you find out?" he asked breathlessly.
She couldn't seem to speak at first and for a brief second it looked as if she'd changed her mind about telling him. Finally she squeezed her eyes shut and tightened her hold on his hand. "I'm not really your cousin," she whispered suddenly.
The Sirius image recoiled as if struck by lightening. "What do you mean you're not my cousin? Of course you are."
She gave a forceful shake of her head. "No! I'm not! I overheard Mum and Dad having a terrible row last night. Dad had been drinking and I guess they thought I was still at Alice Hensley's house. I could hear the screaming from my bedroom, so I crept to the stairs and heard everything. Dad was shouting at Mum that it was her fault that I was rebelling and that I had bad blood. Mum was screaming back at him that they'd promised to never speak of it, but Dad would have none of it. He said that the blood of some man named Jeremy Evans ran through my veins and that was why I was turning against the Old Ways. And I don't even know who that is," she cried.
Image Sirius got a stricken look on his face. "Evans? Did you say Jeremy Evans?"
Narcissa nodded her head. "Yes. That's who Mum said. Do you know who he is?"
"Narcissa," said Sirius gently. "Jeremy Evans is the name of Lily Potter's father. You must be mistaken. He's a Muggle."
Narcissa began to wail. "That's what Dad said! He said Mum had slept with that mudblood bastard and it had been a mistake to bring me into the house. Mum said that it had been the only way to make sure that I was brought up properly, that Jeremy Evans had never wanted me. They went around and around about it."
The young Sirius pulled Narcissa close and wrapped his arms around her as she cried. "There, there," he said soothingly. "It's all right, my love. Everything is going to be all right." He continued rocking her, but she struggled against him and lifted her face.
"How can you say everything is going to be all right?" she said hysterically. "Lily Potter, that Gryffindor cow, is my sister! Everyone loves her, but I can't stand her. And now? I find out I'm related to her? Oh, I'm going to throw myself off the Astronomy Tower!"
Sirius saw his image shake her gently. "Narcissa!" he said sharply. "You're forgetting the most wonderful part of all this. You said so yourself. We're not cousins. That means . . . that means . . . "
He bent his head forward and very tentatively kissed her. Sirius stared at them in voyeuristic fascination as Narcissa then lifted her arms around his younger self's neck and deepened the kiss, bringing her body closer to his.
Suddenly, the scene faded away and was replaced by a different image. It took a few moments for Sirius to reorient himself.
He was now looking upon a display in his bedroom at the same cottage. From the angle of the sun coming into the window, Sirius figured that it was about midafternoon. He gazed upon the large bed and gasped at what he saw.
His younger self was naked, making blissful love to Narcissa Malfoy and it was obvious that they were both carried away in a consuming passion. His first instinct was to avert his eyes, yet he founding himself gawping at them with an uneasy feeling of intrusion.
They looked so very beautiful together. And for the first time, Sirius understood why he'd always been drawn to lithe young blondes as lovers . . . he'd been unconsicouly trying to recapture her for all these years. He was uncomfortably aware that he was becoming increasingly sexually aroused, yet he continued to look upon them as they completed their lovemaking with a flurry of intense moans and gasps.
His adolescent image rolled away from his lover and held her closely, whispering, "I love you so much," in an awed tone that only the young seem to have. Narcissa looked at him tenderly and said, "I love you too and I have something I need to tell you. Something that I hope will make you happy."
Sirius' image beamed at her and said, "You always make me happy, but tell me your glad news anyway."
"I'm going to have a baby."
Sirius suddenly jerked his hands out of the Pensieve, reeling in shock. Putting his head in his hands, her words echoed over and over in his mind.
A baby, I'm going to have a baby . . .
The fucking bitch! She'd been pregnant and kept it from him all these years! He let out a snarl and stood, picking up the Pensieve as he charged out of the closet. He must have made enough noise because when he reached her bed, Narcissa was already waking up and starting to raise herself.
"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?" he screamed. "OUR BABY! WHAT HAPPENED TO OUR BABY?"
Narcissa looked up at him in confusion. "Sirius? What are you . . . "
Before she could finish her sentence, Sirius threw the Pensieve on the floor, the fragile ceramic shattering into a thousand pieces. As the liquid spread across the hardwood, silvery tendrils quickly curled up and gathered around the shaking woman's head. Suddenly, they seemed to penetrate her body and she let out a blood-curdling scream.
And she continued screaming and clawing as Sirius gathered her quivering body in his arms.
To be continued . . .
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A/N: Those of you who have already read this chapter before may notice a major change in how I've written Narcissa's secret parentage . . . the way I had written it before, Sirius and Narcissa were still cousins (grin) . . .
Thanks to my friend and beta, Elizabeth.