AN: I bow down to JK and her ability to write a prophecy in five lines. It took me nearly twenty. That's four times as many! Have I mentioned poetry and/or anything resembling it isn't my strong point? BTW, now that I have hit stats…I know you're reading and not reviewing… tsk-tsk… (Or at least clicking…) Special cookies to whomever can tell me what her codename has to do with.
Reviews: Bunch of conspiracy theorists :P – Aljinon, AlyceJL, Aubrey (Is Snape a Capricorn? I had no idea about his birthday so I just twisted it to my own purposes…maybe I did and just decided to fling that knowledge to the wind., Beth (I 'researched' or actually 'bumbled around' on the web for b-days and whatnot. Then I decided to cackle, use my fic writer's privileges, and change his middle name and her birthday. At least I kept them close…not like one fic where poor Remus' had the middle name of Jade., Bex (You are more than welcome to review though I'll never ask for a certain amount before posting. That's just mean., BlackHorntailJunior, BridgettLynn (The potions reappear in this chapter!, CapnSilver (First reviewer award!, dubtheeunforgiven (YAY! Someone who liked me dubbing Remus with the middle name of Jonathon. John just sounded so…vanilla. No offense to JK!, ilovefireyredheads (I can't tell you who ends up with who can I? I like that cat to keep in my bag, if those poor dears live to get out of it…, JinxTwix (Though this chapter clarifies -I think- the sender was Hermione since Remus didn't know the name and Snape surely didn't send a note to give to himself:D, just deej, Lady Asano (/hands her a bat. Feel free to take it out on Albus. I do need to get back to B&B, don't I?, Mizuki hikari, MoonNZ (Really? Hmmm…, ponyboyluver, RandomReviewer, Smiles28, venusrose (YAY! Someone who liked the grocery store scene. I doubt Jon will keep his powers to himself., and zeusfluff/Melissa.
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Last Chapter: "But that means," she said, "that means…"
Remus looked stricken at her then to Dumbledore who offered nothing to go against what Hermione was getting at. "It's Snape," he burst out. "That bastard did this to her!"
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Snape gazed sullenly down into the empty tumbler. The low burning fire caused what was left to flicker, the liquid's golden remnants making shapes against his black robes. He swirled the glass around and listened to the ice cubes clink before reaching for a bottle on his desk. A bit of Scotch spilled on his leg as he poured himself another drink. Grumbling in annoyance, he blotted at the spot with his sleeve. His hand was not as steady as it had been four drinks ago or was it five. Honestly, he had lost count. With a lurch, he tipped the tumbler back and downed it.
As the amber liquid burned its way down his throat, Snape regarded the bottle he held. It had been awhile since he had had any reason to break it out from its cupboard. The irony was he had gotten it as a birthday gift and now his birthday was the reason for his binge.
"October 22," he muttered down at the bottle. "One day off. One bloody day off."
Carefully as he could manage, he slammed both items back on his desk. He buried his face in his hands. Barely. He had barely been a Libra. A few hours more and he would have a Scorpio. How he hated October 22 at the moment and he hated October 23 even more since it had not been able to come fast enough to spare him this fate. One he could not even dare to face. Hermione.
He did not even have to see her everyday to be reminded. His daily classes ensured his mind never strayed too far from the constant stream of the deprecating thoughts. Harry and Ron's faces betrayed how they were doing without her. Not even all the rigorous fight training preparing for the inevitable and the worst could stop their faces from holding a perpetual look of anxiety and wear. All he could do stand there and teach or train as if nothing had ever happened. Recently, the duo had started asking him questions; somehow, they had gotten whiff that he knew more than the rest of the Order. Just today, Harry had come up to him after a school-wide dueling lesson and quietly inquired about how Hermione was doing. Snape had nervously out of habit stuffed his injured hand (strange still growing finger and all) in his pocket before stating everything was fine and huffing off in the usual manner.
He lowered his hands into his lap and leaned back in his chair. What should he have said? Sure, sure everything is perfectly alright; though we found out she's carrying my child. Put a damper on things, but it's not as if I knew. It's not as if I helped impregnate one of my students by me on purpose. I never noticed anyone…I never noticed…
Snape closed his eyes and mentally beat himself again. How could he not have noticed someone cozying up to him and taking a hair or skin or anything? A piece of the potential father was an essential piece to the potion and to the entire spell as a whole. Must have been Malfoy, he conceded to himself. No one else hung around him in such a clinging manner whenever he went to Death Eater headquarters. He had assumed the attention was due to keep an eye on him so he would not wander where he should not. But no…
Clumsily, Snape reached within the folds of his cloak before pulling out a piece of parchment doubled over many times. He turned it repeatedly in his hands before opening it and smoothing out the creases. The wobbly cursive words on the threadbare, well read paper stared up at him. He knew them now without even looking at it. "Tell him it's a boy and I'm going to name him Jonathon."
It was a nice name, he often would tell himself. Though, I know where she got it. Merlin, Remus must be ready to massacre me by now. Still holding tightly to the paper, Snape rose to his feet and staggered briefly before grabbing hold of his desk to steady himself. With care, he put the note back. What right did he even have to know that? He presumed her response would have been the exact opposite. One of complete revulsion and refusal to acknowledge him in any way, shape, or form concerning the child.
His parental responsibility he thought would have followed along the same lines. What role would I even get to play in Jon's (what Snape subconsciously started calling him) life, if we even survived this at all? He shook his head. He was not blind. The connection between the wolf and her was noticeable even long before any of this had started. Snape knew who would actually raise the child and it was not he. He might be the father, but he was not the dad. He was only a nine-and-a-half fingered unsuspecting fool from a damned prophecy.
A bubbling sound from the fireplace broke his thoughts and he turned around in response. However, his footing was not very good as he spun and he swung into a small table. It fell with a wooden thud and all three vials that had once stood so neatly in a row on it shattered to the floor. Snape quickly grabbed his wand from the desk behind him and diverted the blue potion and other two from mixing. The red and purple could mix since they were of the same base, but put them with the blue and his entire office would be sky high or even that entire particular part of dungeons.
Irritably, he stepped over the mess, vowing to clean it up in a bit. He had hoped to deliver the set of potions soon since he was sure that the werewolf would be running quite low. He shrugged it off. It's not as if he's going to die without them. Lupin can make due. Don't know why I'm always at his beck and call. I'll just have to make up some more as soon as I'm done with this one. Too bad stomach acid keeps the exploding in check or else I wouldn't even have to worry. He considered the bubbly mixture in front of him over his office fire. The one that would either seal his fate or set him free. This potion could not be fouled up.
Snape bent over to pick up a ladle on the floor, nearly lost his balance in the process, but in the end stood up right, looking dizzily down. Tentatively, he poked at the simmering sea foam green surface. The viscous liquid was nearly ready, just a few more days over low heat. As he continued stirring, something was amiss. His wristwatch continued to keep getting hotter and hotter until he recoiled back from the fire, but he soon realized it was not heat from the flames since it still burned afterward. His slightly slow mind eventually told him to press the side button. Immediately, it stopped and a stream of words flashed across its face.
The Order and its many forms of 'more secure' communications lines were open and Snape was on the receiving end. Moirai: need assistance ASAP, it read then a broken jumble of numbers and letters went by indicating interference then a set of coordinates. That was all he needed. The codename was familiar; she was a fairly new inductee and had often resorted to calling for help.
Squinting around his office, he carefully made his way around the rivers of potion still needing a cleanup and picked up a black drawstring bag. He spilt most of it on the floor after missing his upturned hand. Pausing, he briefly registered something about how Albus told him to stay put, then decided that the message was sent to him so he should answer it. At last, he managed to dispense enough to throw over him and thought of her position.
He appeared in a dark ring of trees. The trip made him even more unstable and he fell backwards over a well-placed root. Grunting, he grasped the tree for help getting up then with the wand at the ready made his way further into the thicket. His sight blurred the dim images together, but one caught his eye. Something was propped up against a very large tree directly in front of him.
Upon closer inspection and a reluctantly lit wand, he could make out that it was in fact somebody. "Moirai," he whispered her code name loudly. No response. "I'm here to assist you though it looks like everything is under control." Still nothing. He moved closer and held his wand for better light.
A pair of vacant violet eyes reflected the golden light. Snape cursed under his breath and rushed closer. A trail of dried blood seeped from under her short frosty blonde hair and her blue tinged mouth hung slack. A watch had been taken from her wrist roughly, evident from the red marks, and placed carefully in a place of prominence, hanging from the center of her shirt's collar. It flashed red, signifying she was requesting help. The call was still going out even after someone had done this and they had not stopped it…
"You didn't send out this call," he said abruptly to her still body. "That means…" He rose swiftly and turned around, his wand held high. A fist caught him in greeting and sent him once again to the ground.
Snape rubbed his jaw, looking up at the wand pointed down at him. Lights were popping everywhere. "How nice to see you, too, Lucius. I must say your jab has improved. Last time you hit me, I thought I was up against a little girl."
The last statement caused the blonde man to throw himself on Snape and start pummeling him again. Lucius held him down with one hand then proceeded to repeatedly punch him with his right hand. Lifting a leg, Snape hit his assailant in a very delicate spot and pushed him roughly off. Both scrambled to their feet, wands on the ground long forgotten.
"I bet she put up a better fight than you," said Snape, pointing at the limp figure. "You know she has a better bleach job than you." It seems Snape's 'shut up' filter had been hindered by the alcohol, not as if he had much of one to begin with, though a sober Severus would have wisely left the last part off.
"Forget orders this time. I'm going to kill you right now," roared Lucius then pounced.
Snape, already balanced impaired, found himself pushed against a tree and a hand at his throat. He chortled, which gurgled slightly, directly in Lucius' face as the other applied more pressure. "Nice scar," he rasped out. "Voldemort give it to you? Must have been furious you let me slip through your hands again."
The thin scar that traced down the entire left side of Lucius face turned white with anger and he put both hand around Snape's throat. "Not this time," he said. Obviously, his anger impaired his judgment since Snape now had use of both his hands. He swung a staggering blow to Lucius' face then gasped for air as the blonde went reeling, clutching his eye.
"You're slipping, Lucius," slurred Snape as he bent to pick up his wand, keeping both eyes on the other man.
Surprisingly, Lucius smirked at that and nodded his head. "No…I think you're the one who's slipping…"
Then the world went from dim colors to swirling into total blackness for Snape as something came from behind and struck him. He felt himself pitch forward onto the ground. "Unfair," he muttered then slipped completely into unconsciousness.
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Conversing with the dead is such a pain, thought Hermione as she pushed the book she had been dozing on out from under her. Groaning, she lifted herself off her bed, deciding her time with dear pal Newt Scamander was over for the day though she doubted she could say the same for a certain deceased Seer. She was getting out of bed to only get back in it and more than likely another chat with the other side. Just as soon as I get out of these clothes.
Sleepily she rubbed her eyes and grabbed the first nightgown in sight. She undressed and pulled it on then walked past her vanity on her way to the bathroom to brush her teeth. The image reflected from the vanity's mirror caused her to about face and backtrack. Upon closer inspection, she could only ask herself one thing aloud, "Where did this cleavage come from?"
Oh my gosh, she thought then adjusted her gown's straps as if it would help diminish anything. Sure, she admitted empire-waists were great for such illusions, but Merlin help her, last time she pulled this on she was not busting at the seams as she was now. Wow…this isn't a bad thing, but yeesh… She shook her head in disbelief before scampering into the hall, crossing her arms defensively, and keeping a look out for Remus incase she suddenly needed to dive back into her room.
Hermione slipped quietly down to the bathroom door and slid inside. She congratulated herself on her improved stealth before a rustling from the tub caused her to freeze in place. The shower curtain rippled and a figure moved behind it. Oh…bad…very, very bad… Carefully she backpedaled toward what she thought was an open doorway only to thud into a very solid door. The figure stopped. She turned slowly and bit her lip as she turned the door handle. It did not budge.
"Hermione?" the shape asked.
She could only stare wide-eyed and cover her mouth in terror before giving the handle a slightly more violent shake.
"Hermione?" he repeated. "I'll be out in a bit. I'm nearly-" Next a hand appeared around the shower curtain as if to pull it back.
"Remus!" she could barely contain herself as she yelled his name. "Don't!" Nevertheless, the hand was still moving so she did the first thing that came to mind; she slapped a hand to her eyes.
"And how might I be of service?" asked a calm voice though a twinge of amusement came through.
Timidly, Hermione scooted a finger to allow one eye a view and saw Remus' head with his amused expression including wet, messy hair from around the curtain. Her face turned a violent shade red as she lowered her hand. "I didn't…I didn't know you were in here or I wouldn't have…and well…the door…it shut and now it won't open and I'm really sorry about this, but," she finished in a rush then jiggled the unyielding knob once again to prove her point.
"Alright, I'll see what I can do…um…before though I'll need a towel, if you'll be so kind as to hand me one." He gestured toward the cabinet next to Hermione.
She got one then handed it to his outstretched dripping arm. Her embarrassment kept her looking anywhere but at him. After a few moments, his face reappeared. "Could you hand me my…um…er…boxers right beside you? Yes, yes…the maroon ones." He also turned red as she gave them to him. Soon, the curtain was pushed back and he stepped out from the shower in said boxers.
Hermione let her eyes wander over his wiry form and suddenly appreciated the arms and chest that often held her. She hoped he would not notice, but from his expression, she guessed he had. He actually seemed pleased. "It's not like I did this on purpose," she pointed out in defense.
He smiled and said mock skeptically, "Sure." He rattled the stubborn doorknob. "Couldn't wait to get me out of my clothes so you thought you'd sneak up on me in the shower."
"You wish," she shot back then teasingly smacked him on his bare arm. The door was still completely shut. "Won't open?" she asked cheerfully.
"It seems you've locked us in here. Another part of your plot to catch me undressed and get me alone." He looked over at her and raised his eyebrows.
"I," she emphasized the word by pointing a finger at herself, "don't need ploys to do such a thing." She grinned mischievously. "I'm pretty sure I can get you any way I want, any time I want, and most certainly of all stuck in a bathroom in nothing more than maroon boxers with," she stifled a laugh, "winking stars."
"That you could." He took the hand resting near her collarbone and placed a kiss on it. "Although," he moved in closer, "the part about the stars was a bit low and just as I was about to complement your very nice black outfit."
Remus continued holding her hand and she could still feel the tingle from when his lips had touched it. Then he rested her hand on his shoulder, against his neck. Hermione suddenly felt exceedingly self-conscious with him begin so close to some 'regions' that she worried over in such an outfit.
"This? No, it's short. Much too short. You know I ought to extend the hem and the top is lacking fabric." She used her free hand pull up on the neckline. "I just wasn't made for something like this."
"On the contrary, my dear," he placed a hand on the small of her back and pulled her forward, "I rather think you're stunning whether you're in a ball gown," he placed a kiss on the edge of her jaw, "a night gown," he traced another kiss, "or even a sack." He accentuated the last point by planting one directly on her lips.
Hermione tried to keep herself from melting on spot, but she could not help it; he could just do that to her. She moved her other hand to his neck to steady herself. Just him lowering his lips to hers caused major fireworks to go off inside and they were nothing compared to anything Muggle or magical. Remus seemed to have the same reaction. The only way to put out the fire was to press closer to him.
Up to now, he had been pretty gentleman-like in their encounters. Though sometimes in the heat of the moment, he would abandon that and let the hands wander. Like at that instant, she could barely think of anything but his hand moving up and down her leg underneath her gown. Everything was registering in a blur. His hand, her leg, his chest, her hands, the lips, the breathing. Not to mention the lack of clothing on Remus' part. Her stomach though bigger was not large enough to hinder them too much. So dizzyingly wonderful it all was that a squeaking noise barely reached her thoughts.
She only opened her eyes after the hands were entirely removed and Remus jagged breathing punctuated the silence. His forehead rested against hers. "The door," he said huskily.
Looking over, she saw the light from the hall spilling in from a wide open door frame. Apparently, the door did not need their help after all. Remus leaned against the wall with both hands with Hermione trapped in between. "I think it's time I turn in for the night. Old men like me don't have the stamina the young have."
"I'm positive you could give them a run for their money," said Hermione, regaining normal breathing.
"Are you staying up?" he asked, leaning on the doorframe with his exposed upper frame in relief against the hall light.
"No," she flicked off the bathroom light, "I'm calling it a day."
"Well then, good night Hermione and I'll see you in the morning." He leaned in to give her a quick peck on the cheek and straightened her gown strap, which had somehow fallen off her shoulder. "Do try to remember to knock in the future," he added.
"Only if someone starts locking the doors," she replied. Smiling slightly she said, "Good night," and went back to her room to climb into her bed, completely forgetting to do what she went to bathroom for in the first place.
"Does it hurt?" she found herself asking.
"Does what hurt?" retorted the now familiar voice.
Hermione looked down at the stone floor and said, "Any of it."
Megan raised an eyebrow, wrinkling her pale forehead. "Well, not anymore. Being dead will do that to you. At the time, it hurt like hell except for this." She touched the cheek with the insignia. "I woke up with that. Completely postmortem. Got to thank that bastard for the small favor."
"You woke up?" continued Hermione, puzzled.
"Yeah, opened my eyes and here I was on the spiritual astral plane. Apparently, my work isn't done since I'm here with you. You'd think they'd cut me some slack; I think all those prophecies I had to deliver should automatically get me a nice, peaceful afterlife."
A group of black robed men walked past and paid them no heed. Involuntarily, Hermione shrunk closer to the wall they were walking by. Her dead guide moved her back to the middle as another one ran directly towards them. Megan kept a firm grip on her as Hermione braced for an impact, but the man just went right through them.
"I told you," she said exasperated, "they can't touch us, hear us, or even see us, so calm down. We've still got a ways to go."
"Do you even know where we're going exactly?" asked Hermione as she was pulled along.
The slightly older witch tucked some dark hair behind her ear, revealing her face in thought. "Not really. I just know we have to keep going down. The Powers are highly cryptic. Down it lies in the dark, waiting. That's about all I'm getting and they stuck us here so you're just going to have to go with me on this one. Alright?"
Hermione nodded. "Why not? It's not as if I have a choice. I keep coming here every time I go to sleep."
"Well boo hoo, I have to sit here and wait for you since I can't move on without you. I've seen things here I really could have went my whole life without seeing – I mean my whole afterlife. At least you can sleep," she ended grumpily.
Remus stared down at the last bits of potions he had left. At least the ones Hermione did not know about anyway or else he could easily ask her to whip him up some more. The edge was creeping on again with another full moon coming soon, very soon. Already without the potions, he was going completely mental. He gritted his teeth against the pull to be something less than human. Something that could hear her always, something violent, something that always wanted.
Shaking his head, he put back the blue one, no longer that color since he had downed the last bit just yesterday. Only a minute portion of what he would usually take. Not that it would help is problem at the moment; it would have set his mind more at ease. She's bright. She's going to figure it out. He shook around the bit of red left in vial in his hand. He only took half and felt calmer. What was in him flickered down lower, its rage ebbing for the time being. Finally, he drank down half of the black and purple vial anticipating the pain. After the initial burning, he blinked his watery eyes and breathed easier since he could hear a bird outside his window but not the one across the backyard and 20 feet in the trees.
A knock on his bedroom door jarred him. Hastily, he shoved everything back into its place in the desk's bottom drawer. "Come on in," he said, trying to look natural. He could distinctly hear her heart beating as she sat down next to him on the bed. Merlin, he needed more potion. Much, much more.
"I remembered to knock this time," she said with a grin.
"I noticed. Very courteous of you," he replied.
"Ummm," started Hermione, "you've been up here a bit, is something wrong? Is it the moon?"
"Just a bit, dear. I feel a little down and tired right before, you know, and irritable, so I figured to keep you from dealing with that."
She was playing with his hair, running her fingers up and down the back. If he was a wolf at the moment, he was sure he would be kicking his leg and quite candidly, he had to keep himself from doing it. She stopped and looked at him perplexed. He opened a closed eye.
"Remus, don't take this the wrong way, but you look different," she stated at last.
He faltered a moment before saying, "It's the full moon coming up. I probably am starting to look a train wreck."
"No it's not that, quite the opposite you look rather…well…good. I can't place my finger on it but," she abruptly stopped since she reached across him to push down a pillow that had started floating.
He was thankful for the strange intervention since she was touching close to what a few moments earlier he had worried about. In a few days, being the smart woman she was, she would figure it out entirely. For the time though his pillow was floating and that begged the question, "Why's it doing that?"
"Oh," she said frustrated, "it's him. I think he's trying to be funny. Jonathon," she kept a hand firmly on the pillow, "put the pillow down for mummy." Cautiously, she let it go and breathed easy when it did not go flying back.
Dumbstruck, Remus asked, "What did you call him?"
"Jonathon. I've decided on Jonathon Marcus," she paused briefly before smiling resignedly, "and that's about as far as it's gotten. Named him after you and Dad."
He could not stop himself from grinning at the news. "After me? Well…I'm entirely flattered at that, but Snape… What about him? What have you heard from him?"
"Nothing really. Not even to complain about it. I don't even know what his last name's going to be. Should he be Jonathon Granger? Or does Severus want him to be a Snape? I just can't wrap my mind around this situation half the time."
Remus found himself drawing her to rest against his chest. "I'll help," he said into her hair. "Perhaps make him into a Lupin."
"I know you will," came the reply, "but still Severus needs to be in Jonathon's life, too. I want him to be even under the circumstances. He's probably too afraid to contact me. None of this is his fault though."
"You know how I feel about him, but you're the mum so you decide what you feel is best and how to handle it."
They lapsed into a pensive silence with Remus still secretly celebrating the name before Hermione broke it, saying, "I haven't let you feel him move yet, have I? Do you want to?"
"Yeah," he said not exactly knowing what to do. She was still leaning on him as she took his hand that was not around her and placed directly on the side of her abdomen. Being so close to the full moon, Remus could not only feel the baby's movements but also a rhythmic sound. A constant thumping that he finally figured out was the heartbeat.
"He's really putting on a show at the moment, moving in somersaults. Must be trying to impress you."
"No doubt about the tumbling though the pillow was impressive."
"You like that? Wait until you see me hiccup blue bubbles…"
Just go in there and do it. You can, you can, you can. Remus leaned against the doorway into the kitchen. Hermione stood at the sink; she was in the middle of making a potion. He did not know what, he could barely keep a straight thought in his head. The full moon was upon them and not since his younger days before certain potion advances did he feel this…incensed. He eyed her carefully one last time before slipping into the room and making a run for his Wolfsbane without getting noticed or having to come too close.
Quietly, he retrieved the green vial from the fridge then started to make his success retreat when he picked up a scent. Blood. Wide-eyed, he watched Hermione put down the knife she had been using then look over her wound. He caught sight of the deep red liquid. The sight, the smell, the need was taking over. More than anything, it wanted to bite. Sink its teeth into the crimson. It wanted more; it wanted her.
Inhaling slowly, Remus blinked away the red pervading his vision. He forced himself out of the room. He had to get out. Shaking, he placed the potion on the table. He would come down a little later for it, closer to dark, when she was not around. Right now, he had to move, to leave. Nothing else mattered. Remus escaped up the stairs.
Hermione turned around from her carefully lined row of newly filled lime potion vials, still pressing a dishtowel against her cut. What a klutz she could be in a kitchen. She had already added the mandrake, the slippery stuff that caused her accident. Scanning the page, she found the last ingredient. Sucrose. Easy enough, she thought, getting a bag down from a cabinet. She measured out the desired amount then started to put it back and cork the bottles when she noticed a vial on the table.
Puzzled, she carried the bag over to it and wondered how she had put one over there. It was the same green color. Shrugging it off as a slip of memory, Hermione uncorked it, tapped out an eighth of a teaspoon, before resealing it. Vowing never to do that much potion making at one time again, she poured herself a glass of water and left the kitchen in disarray to sit out in the bit of late sun poking through the clouds. She did not even notice the one on the table missing when she came back in.
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Snape groaned and rubbed his head, which hurt. Bad. A hangover and a possible concussion do not mix, he thought groggily as he massaged his temples. Slowly, he opened his eyes to see…well…nothing since wherever he was at did not have a light of any kind. He dared not to move because anything could be lurking around him. Therefore, he resigned to sit in that exact spot feeling as if he had been steamrolled.
Feeling the situation going nowhere fast, he called out, "Any of you dense idiots out there?"
Almost immediately, a shaft of light appeared as a slot in a door (which he could now see) opened. The room was what he now recognized to be the dungeons in the deepest bowls of Voldemort's lair. How cozy, he mused. A voice from the door said, "Don't know who you're calling the idiot. Look who's in the cell." With that reply, the slot started to shut again.
What Snape did not know was as he went back into darkness; his Hogwarts' office was brighter than a summer's day. An impulsive, drunken barrier spell does not have good walls and a particular pair of potions had mixed to make the color purple. The explosion blew apart the southern end of dungeons, destroying everything in range, most importantly a paternity potion. Not to mention all his belongings.
Good thing he did not know. His head was already pounding enough.