Some people lose their parents to death. And it is great tragedy indeed. However, others lose their parents to life. And this is an even greater tragedy. But how can this be so, you may ask. How can a person live with their mother or father their entire life and still not be able to feel their presence? How can the dead sometimes be more alive than the living?

I can tell you how. It is because they are not there. It is because they are not present. I can tell you how because I know what it's like to feel that presence. Because I was one of the lucky ones.

My mother was my best friend. After all, what greater friend can you find than the one who has been with you from the very beginning? Right by your side. Through your best and worst days. Supporting you, no matter where you go in life. No matter what decisions you make. My mother was there. She was always there. And for that reason, she will always be alive.

"Mum! Dad!"

Hermione ran towards her parents and immediately launched herself into her mother's arms.

Mrs. Granger chuckled softly. "We've missed you terribly, Hermione," she said, smoothing down her daughter's hair affectionately.

As she stayed there, taking in her mother's familiar scent, Hermione felt her eyes began to water slightly. The comfort and relief she felt in this moment was simply overwhelming. "You have no idea," she replied softly.

"Well, I guess we've always known who the favourite was."

Hermione turned to her father, grinning widely. "Jealousy doesn't suit you, Dad."

"Everything suits me, dear," Mr. Granger stated, causing Hermione to laugh. "Come here, you."

Hermione was swiftly brought into a tight embrace by her father, but had to squirm out of it as he began ruffling her hair. "Dad!" she cried. "My hair is wild enough as it is, thank you."

"Just the way I love it," he replied, kissing her softly on the head before leaning down to pick up her trunk. "Well, come on then, let's head over to the car. Hermione, you bring Crookshanks."

Before leaving the platform, Hermione took a final look behind her. She'd already said all her goodbyes, but she was hoping to catch one last glimpse of a certain dark-haired wizard.

"Hermione?"

She turned around to see her mother staring at her curiously. "Let's go, Mum," Hermione said, putting on a smile and leading them out of the platform.

"So, how was your year?" Mrs. Granger asked, looking up at Hermione in the car mirror.

"It was...well...to be completely honest..." Hermione paused, looking up into her mother's knowing eyes. "It was rather dreadful."

She'd already told her parents about the situation at Hogwarts through her many letters. Of course, none of them contained much detail, but she was quite certain her mother had been able to deduce a fair amount on her own.

"Was it because of that witch?" Mr. Granger asked.

Hermione had to smile. The word 'witch' held very different connotations to her father than it did to her. In fact, on more than one occasion, Mr. Granger had remarked that he didn't particularly like the idea of his daughter being considered a witch, preferring to call her a wizard instead, or simply: magical.

In reference to Umbridge, however, Mr. Granger found the word perfectly acceptable.

"Well, she had a large part to do with it, of course," Hermione answered. "But...there's more to it than that."

"What is it, dear?" her mum asked with a worried expression.

Hermione wasn't quite sure how to answer. She had never completely shared the details of her adventures with Harry and Ron to her parents. They would occasionally receive a letter home from Dumbledore, yes, but those would never divulge too much information, either. And for that she was extremely grateful, for they would have surely worried their heads off.

For now, her parents knew that there was a dark wizard who had returned after being absent from the country for almost fourteen years. And that it was Harry, himself, who had witnessed his return. But, as she explained to her parents, the Ministry was refusing to believe that Voldemort was back, claiming that both Harry and Dumbledore had simply gone mad.

However, as Hermione now explained to her parents, the Minister could no longer hold on to this delusion, for Voldemort had made an appearance at the Ministry, itself.

Though, the fact that Hermione and her friends were present during this appearance was not something she saw fit to mention.

"That must have come as a major blow to that Minister of yours," Mr. Granger remarked.

"Yes, well, he's been sacked," Hermione said.

"What's going to happen now that this man, this...Voldemort, is back?" her mum asked.

Hermione hesitated slightly before answering. "I don't really know, Mum," she said softly. "There was a war before...There's probably going to be a war now."

"Hermione..." her dad said slowly, but she immediately cut him off.

"Dad, if you're about to suggest that I don't return to Hogwarts next year, then you're wasting your time," Hermione stated, feeling slightly guilty at the harshness in her tone. "Because it's not just the Wizarding world that's in danger, anymore. It's everyone."

"What do you mean, Hermione?" her mother asked, seriously.

"I mean muggles. They don't know. The only reason you know is because of me, and unfortunately that puts you in even more danger," she said, her voice shaking slightly. "But that also means I can protect you. Dumbledore can protect you. And he will."

"Besides, I can't leave Harry...not after everything he's been through," Hermione added, shifting her gaze out the car window.

"Hermione," her mother said gently. "What's happened to Harry?"

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her parents exchange a concerned look, but it was a long moment before she finally spoke up again. "His Godfather was murdered."

Mrs. Granger's hand immediately flew up to her mouth in shock. "Murdered?" she asked, horrified. "But...how? Why? By who?"

"He was there at the Ministry fighting against Voldemort and his followers. He was killed by his own cousin."

Her proclamation was met with a heavy silence.

"I didn't realize it was this serious, Hermione," her father said gravely. "Please send Harry our best regards."

"I will," she responded.

"Hermione..." Mrs. Granger started softly. "You told me once that Harry's parents were murdered when he was a baby. And now...now his godfather's been murdered as well. And it's all because of this man named Voldemort?"

Hermione nodded.

Mrs. Granger sighed deeply. "I cannot even begin to imagine the pain that boy must be feeling."

Familiar tears began to well up in Hermione's eyes. She wished desperately that she could see Harry right now. Just to know he was okay. Just to know the Dursleys weren't giving him trouble.

And yet, even though she absolutely hated the idea of Harry being alone at a time like this, she also knew there was nothing she, or anyone could say that would bring him comfort. Harry needed to be alone. It was just the type of person he was. Because he would never in a million years break down in front of anyone.

"Hermione?"

Hermione looked up from the book she was currently reading. "Come in, Mum," she called out.

She saw her mother peak in from around the door of her bedroom, and then make her way over to Hermione's bed.

Closing her book and setting it on her bedside table, Hermione turned to her mother curiously. "What is it, Mum?"

"Well, I just thought we could talk," Mrs. Granger replied.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Sure... but why?"

"What? I can't request a conversation with my daughter without having my motives questioned?"

Hermione chuckled. "No, Mum, it's just that we already had our whole 'school' talk a couple of days ago. And you don't usually knock on my bedroom door when you're looking for conversation. You call my name up the staircase and beg me to come down because you're bored and tired of talking to Dad. Oh, and you closed the door behind you," she added, nodding her head at the door. "And you always say how you don't like it when I close my bedroom door during the day because it makes it seem like I'm imprisoning myself."

Mrs. Granger stared incredulously at her daughter. "You are much too perceptive for your own good."

"Why, thank you," Hermione replied, smiling. "So, what is it, then?"

Mrs. Granger sighed. "Well, Hermione, I'm not quite sure how to open this whole conversation up..."

Hermione looked at her in confusion. "Is something wrong?" she asked seriously.

"No, no, nothing like that, dear."

"Okay...then...what's the problem?"

Mrs. Granger sighed again and, to Hermione's surprise, smiled amusedly. "You know, after all these years, I would have hoped this conversation would start a little smoother..."

Something suddenly clicked into Hermione's brain, and she could feel her cheeks began to heat up. "Oh my God," she exclaimed. "Mum, we already had that conversation!"

"I know, Hermione, but you were young then and hardly interested," her mother said, patiently.

"What makes you think I'm interested now?" she asked, horrified.

"No one, dear, but...well...you are turning seventeen this year—"

"I'm waiting until I'm married!" Hermione cried out instantly.

Mrs. Granger seemed to visibly relax. "And you're sure about that, dear?"

"Yes," she replied adamantly.

"Oh, thank heavens. That was much easier than I thought it would be," her mother stated, placing a hand over her heart. "However, we're still not finished here."

Hermione narrowed her eyes warily. "What else is there to discuss?"

"Well," Mrs. Granger began, "can you honestly tell me that no boy has caught your eye in the five years that you've been at Hogwarts?"

After wondering for many years, Hermione had just now affirmed that one could, in fact, choke on air. She was not overly pleased with this revelation.

"Are you okay, honey?" Mrs. Granger asked.

"Yes, I'm fine," she said, clearing her throat.

"Splendid. So, have I heard of him before?" Her mother then paused slightly. "It is a 'him', isn't it?"

Hermione groaned, covering her face with her hands. "Mother, I am not attracted to girls," she said in a muffled voice.

"Well then just tell me, dear, don't you fancy anyone at all?"

Sighing loudly, Hermione nodded her head. There was no point lying to her mother. She always cracked her in the end.

Mrs. Granger's eyes lit up. She took her daughter's hands in hers and smiled mischievously. "What's he like?"

Despite being momentarily stunned by her mother's behaviour, Hermione found herself feeling slightly more relaxed. "Well...he's...he's really nice..." she began lamely.

"Honey, if niceness was the only factor in a relationship, I would have married Timothy Spuckle and had twelve very freckly children."

"Hermione Spuckle...it doesn't quite roll off the tongue, does it?" Hermione mused.

"No, I'm afraid not," Mrs. Granger stated. "But that is beside the point. The point, my darling, is that I am quite positive your lad has many more qualities about him that you find much more attractive."

"You're right, of course," Hermione said, trying to hold back the smile that was fighting to form on her face.

"Go on, then," her mother urged.

"Well..."

"Just say what you feel, Hermione..."

"Well, okay...he's extremely caring and brave and...he has such a big heart, he really does. But it's even more than that it's...he makes me feel...like I'm important, like I'm special or something. I mean, I don't even think he realizes it. But that's just the kind of person he is. He doesn't hurt me the way other people do. He's never hurt me. He's never caused me any pain. He's never made me feel small."

Hermione's voice cracked slightly, but either her mum didn't notice or she pretended not to. And so, she continued.

"He just makes me feel good, I guess. I can be myself around him. I can be comfortable. And I've never felt like that before. I can't even explain it. It's like...It's like I feel safe when I'm with him. Is that completely bonkers? I realize I sound pretty ridiculous, don't I?" Hermione said, staring down into her hands.

"Hardly," Mrs. Granger said with a soft smile. "But you know...it would be just the smallest bit disappointing if this young man was completely horrid-looking..."

Hermione broke out into a wide grin. "Oh, you needn't worry about that."

"Oh, please, do tell."

"Well," Hermione began, looking at her mother slightly mischievously, "He has this great smile. And these amazing eyes. I swear they make my heart flutter like mad sometimes. And his laugh is absolutely contagious, at least to me, anyway. He's not a big, burly type or anything. Quite the contrary, actually, he's pretty scrawny. But I prefer it that way. And let's see...Oh! I absolutely adore his hair. It always looks so smooth and silky, but it sticks out all over the place. I don't think it could ever lie flat, yet somehow I find that completely endearing. And well, I mean sure...he's not exactly ruggedly handsome, or anything, but I happen to find him quite attractive."

As soon as Hermione concluded her rapid spiel, she burst out laughing. "I cannot believe I just said all that!"

Mrs. Granger beamed at her daughter. "And to think, you started out with 'he's nice'."

Hermione smiled embarrassedly, shaking her head. "Oh Merlin...you must think I've gone mental."

"Hardly."

"You're supposed to say that. You're my mother."

"What makes you think that would ever stop me? Trust me, you're perfectly normal," Mrs. Granger affirmed.

"But who tells their mum all those things! Shouldn't I be having slumber parties where I invite a bunch of girls over so we can share all our secrets to each other?" Hermione asked. "No, of course not, I had to go and make friends with two emotionally debilitated boys."

"I suppose that means you're stuck with me, then," Mrs. Granger said. "You can always try going to your father, as well."

"Please...I'd rather go to Neville Longbottom," Hermione stated bluntly.

"Well he does seem like a very nice boy—"

"Yes, so did Timothy Spuckle."

"Touché."

Mrs. Granger leaned over to place a kiss on her daughter's head. "Anyway, I'm really glad that we had this little talk. Remember, you can always come to me about anything, do you understand?"

Hermione nodded. "I know, Mum. I love you."

"I love you, too, sweetheart."

And with that Mrs. Granger stood up to leave. Before she walked out of the door, however, she turned around to face Hermione.

"By the way, when exactly do you plan on telling Harry?"

Both Hermione's mouth and stomach seemed to drop in shock, simultaneously. "H-how did you—"

"Mother's intuition," Mrs. Granger said simply.

"Oh Merlin...It was the whole hair thing, wasn't it!" Hermione exclaimed.

Her mother smiled. "Hermione, dear, it was the moment you stepped off that train."

Hermione,

According to Dad who is going off orders from Dumbledore, I'm supposed to invite you to stay at the Burrow for the rest of the holidays. Obviously with You-Know-Who out in the open now, things will be getting a little dodgier. Dumbledore, Dad, and some other Order members have placed loads of safety enchantments all over the house to ensure our protection. Pretty sure it's mostly for Harry though. He's going to be staying here, too, obviously.

So, Dad says that if it's convenient for you, Dumbledore will be at your house this Wednesday at five o'clock. He's going to be setting up some safety enchantments for your parents as well. Send an answer back with Pig.

Hope to see you soon,

Ron

Hermione knew that she would eventually be staying at the Burrow this summer, but she hadn't expected it to be so soon. She'd only been home for about three weeks, and she wasn't quite ready to leave her parents yet. They would, of course, be rather saddened by her early departure as well.

Sighing to herself, she made her way downstairs, Ron's letter folded neatly in her pocket.

"Good morning, Pumpkin."

"Morning, Dad," Hermione said, taking her seat at the table. "Morning, Mum."

"Hermione," Mrs. Granger called from behind her shoulder, "both your dad and I have to go into the office today. I'm really sorry. You know we hate it when we leave you alone."

"Mum, I'm sixteen, I'll be fine," Hermione replied, amused.

"I know, I know. But we don't get to see you that often during the year and every moment is precious to us."

Hermione suddenly felt extremely guilty. But she figured there was never really going to be an opportune moment to break the news to her parents, so now would be as good a time as ever.

"About that..." she started. "Erm...I got a letter from Ron today—"

"Oh no," her mum said, turning around immediately. "Hermione, it's only been three weeks!"

"What is it?" Mr. Granger asked, confused.

"Ron's invited me over for the rest of the summer. In his letter he said that Dumbledore thinks it's best if I stay at the Burrow with the current situation in the Wizarding world being as it is," Hermione said, not looking at either of her parents.

"What does the Burrow have that we don't," her father asked irritably.

"Well...safety enchantments...and such," she replied.

Mrs. Granger sighed sadly. "I suppose we don't have much of a choice, do we?"

The guilt was literally squeezing at Hermione's heart at the moment. "What Dumbledore thinks is best, is usually best. He's just looking out for my safety," she stated.

"Hermione," her dad said, looking at her resignedly. "We just hate that other people get to see our little girl more than we do."

Feeling her eyes began to water, she quickly walked around the table to hug her father fiercely. "I'm so sorry, Dad. I wish I could always be with you both."

"We know, Hermione, we know," Hermione heard her mother say from behind her.

"I promise you, I'll be home for Christmas!"

"Are you sure you won't have too much studying to do?" her father asked with one eyebrow raised.

Hermione looked up at him, feeling horrified. However, she was relieved to find that there was mirth dancing in his chocolate brown eyes. "You didn't buy that, did you?"

"Not for a second," Mrs. Granger stated. "And then Dumbledore sent us a letter explaining everything."

"I'm so sorry," Hermione said again.

"Don't you dare apologize, Hermione. This isn't your fault. It's nobody's fault—

"Besides that arsehole, Volda-whatever," Mr. Granger interjected.

"Dave!"

"Well he is one..."

Hermione smiled sadly. She desperately did not want to leave her parents just yet. But she knew she had to. Not just for her safety, but for theirs as well.

After her mum and dad left for work, Hermione made her way upstairs to owl Ron back with her reply.

She found Pig eyeing the cat treat, which she had placed uncertainly in front of him, with great scepticism. But it wasn't as if her house was brimming with owl treats.

Scribbling down a quick reply, she sent Pig on his way and began packing her trunk.

"Do you think I could get away with murder? I mean I have gotten away with many things in the past."

Hermione looked up from the copy of Witch Weekly she was, for reasons beyond her, currently skimming through.

"Oh, she can't be that bad."

"Hermione, you've barely been here for a day. Trust me, by the end of this week you'll be considering walking down dark alleyways in the hope that You-Know-Who might find you and do you in."

"And you've had these thoughts, I presume?"

"Clearly," Ginny replied.

The two girls were currently sitting on the floor of Ginny's bedroom doing absolutely nothing. Hermione had arrived the evening before, and was quite surprised to find Fleur Delacour waiting for her in the kitchen.

"Of course, Mum's doing her best to try and convince Bill that he's being a complete idiot, but that's not really working. Oh, and to top it all off, Ron leaves a trail of drool behind him whenever she so much as sneezes. It gets rather hard to clean up."

Hermione snorted loudly, flipping a page of her magazine.

However, she noticed that Ginny had suddenly stopped talking. "What?" she asked, as Ginny was currently staring her with a somewhat calculating expression.

"Nothing."

"Ginny..."

"Well it's just...I never knew you were so good at hiding your emotions."

"What in the world are you talking about?" Hermione said, utterly confused.

"Oh, come on," Ginny said, exasperatedly. "Didn't you just hear what I said about Ron and Phlegm?"

"Yes...so?" she asked confused.

"Wow..." Ginny exclaimed breathlessly. "You really are good..."

"Ginny! What are you talking about?" Hermione demanded, starting to feel rather irritated.

The red-head rolled her eyes dramatically. "I'm talking about you hiding your jealousy over Ron," she said softly, as if Ron was currently listening in behind the door.

Hermione threw her head back in frustration and let out a very loud groan. "Ginny, how many times do I have to tell you? I. Do. Not. Fancy. Ron."

Ginny simply stared at her in astonishment along with what looked like a hint of admiration as well. "Hermione, you're really good at this—"

"Has it ever occurred to you that I'm really good at this BECAUSE I'M TELLING THE TRUTH?"

Ginny looked thoughtful for a moment. "No, not really," she replied.

"Well maybe it should have!" Hermione proclaimed fiercely. "What can I do to convince you?"

Once again, Ginny looked thoughtful. "Well...if you don't fancy Ron...but you claim that you do fancy someone. Just tell me who that someone is," she said smugly.

Oh bloody hell, oh bloody hell, oh bloody hell! WHAT NOW, HERMIONE? WHAT THE BLOODY HELL NOW?

"I-I can't do that..."

"Why not, Hermione?" Ginny asked, the smug expression still plastered on her face.

"Because I don't like him anymore!"

HA! That's a joke if I've ever heard one.

"So then...you wouldn't mind telling me who it was?"

"I would actually. I would very much mind."

Ginny sighed slowly. "Look, Hermione, I'm going to let you off the hook just this once, but you know you're going to have to tell me sooner or later."

Yeah, I'll pick later.

"Thanks," Hermione replied, not feeling or sounding at all grateful.

The two girls sat there chattering away about nonsense for another ten minutes or so, Hermione still idly flipping through Witch Weekly.

However, she stopped suddenly as she reached the centrefold of the magazine, her eyes resting on the title.

Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile:

Harry Potter

She slowly unfolded the magazine to see Harry's face looking sheepishly back up at her. It was the same photograph that was used in the interview for The Quibbler, she noted.

Hermione wasn't sure whether to laugh out loud or be insanely jealous. The first emotion was quite justifiable; however, why she should be jealous was completely beyond her.

Amusement seemed to win out in this situation, however, as she immediately let out a hoot of laughter.

"What?" Ginny asked.

"Look at this," Hermione said, pushing the magazine over to her.

Ginny's face held an unreadable expression at first, but quite soon after she started chuckling as well. "I particularly enjoy how's he's not even smiling in the photo."

"I've got to go show this to Ron," Hermione stated, getting up. "He'll never let Harry live it down."

Ginny simply rolled her eyes amusedly.

Hermione made her way down to the sitting room where Ron was currently playing chess with Bill who looked he was being beaten pretty badly.

"Don't you ever get sick of playing chess?" Hermione said.

"Don't you ever get sick of reading?"

That shut her up quickly.

"Well, are you almost done?" she asked.

"What's it to you?" Ron replied, egging on his rook in the process.

Hermione clicked her tongue loudly. "Never mind!"

And with that she stomped all the way back up the staircase and into Ginny's room.

"You and Ron have a row?" Ginny asked, not looking up.

"Well, I wouldn't go so far as to call it a row. More like normal conversation, really," Hermione said, taking a seat on Ginny's bed.

She found herself counting down the minutes until Harry's arrival. Feelings or no feelings, she missed having her friend around. It just felt lonely at the Burrow without him. And Ron seemed to be less infuriating when he had his best mate with him, which she couldn't really explain. Maybe Harry just brought out the best in people.

Hermione inwardly chuckled at this.

What a pathetically clichéd thought. Remind me never to think that again.

"Hermione, are you thinking to yourself, again?"

"Sorry, I'll stop."

"Good, because it's gets dead annoying."

Hermione woke up the next morning feeling rather well-rested and ready to tackle the day ahead. She looked at the clock next to her which read 7:19 am. She didn't usually wake up this early on her own, but she happily accepted the circumstances as she would most definitely be first to use the shower today.

She darted quickly into the bathroom, locked the door behind her, and stepped into the hot water all in the span of about ten seconds.

She suddenly regretted not bringing her own shampoo into the shower. She'd packed one in her trunk, but was in too much of a hurry to dig through and find it this morning. So here she now stood, faced with about ten different very male shampoo bottles.

"Aha!" she exclaimed as she saw three feminine looking ones grouped in a small cluster of their own.

Hermione grabbed each one in turn and took a whiff. The first bottle held a faint smell of lemons, the second emitted a flowery fragrance, and the last was barely to her nose when a strong perfume hit her.

Must be Fleur's, Hermione thought, rolling her eyes.

She grabbed the lemon-scented shampoo and continued on with her shower, revelling in the feel of the hot water on her skin.

"You're up early," Ginny said, squinting her eyes up at Hermione as she entered their room.

"I guess I just woke up in the right part of my sleep cycle," Hermione shrugged.

Ginny continued squinting at her for a moment before shoving her head back under the covers.

It would still be about an hour and half until the house held any indication of being inhabited. This of course didn't include Mrs. Weasley, who was probably already doing the laundry or something of the like at this very moment.

About an hour later, there was a knock on the door.

"Ginny, Hermione! Breakfast is ready!"

"We'll be right down, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione called back.

Ginny merely grunted.

"Come on, Ginny, up, up!" Hermione said, making her way over to the girl's bed.

She threw off the covers swiftly, causing Ginny to make an odd strangled moan as she sat there writhing about.

"Allbderinnacek..."

"Sorry?" Hermione asked.

Ginny groaned loudly. "I'll be there in a sec!"

"I'm holding you to that," Hermione said, giving Ginny one final shove before making her way downstairs.

"Ah, Hermione! Have a seat. I'll just go call the boys one more time," Mrs. Weasley stated, as Hermione entered the kitchen.

"I can help you, if you like," Hermione offered.

"Well, you can try waking Ginny up again, but I know how much of a lost cause that is."

Hermione laughed. "Of course, Mrs. Weasley."

"Thank you, dear. But do try and not make too much noise. Harry's asleep in the twins' room."

Hermione stopped in her tracks. "Harry's here?"

"Yes, he arrived pretty late last night and the poor thing looks like he could use the sleep," Mrs. Weasley remarked.

Hermione nodded and quietly made her way back to Ginny's room.

"Ginny," she hissed in her ear. "Ginny, it's awful rude of you to be asleep when you have guests over."

"I don't see any guests," she replied tiredly, blatantly looking around Hermione.

"Yes, well I imagine he wouldn't want to intrude on you snoring."

Ginny ignored her for a moment, but Hermione knew it would register soon. And sure enough:

"Wait, who's 'he'?"

"Harry, of course..." Hermione stated. "He's sitting all alone in the kitchen with your mum. I think she mentioned your name a couple of times—"

"You're lying!" Ginny said, flinging the covers off herself. She ran out of the door, calling out to her Mum down the stairs.

"Ginevra Molly Weasley! What are you shouting about? Harry is right across the hall trying to sleep!" Mrs. Weasley hissed.

Ginny slowly turned around to face Hermione with a menacing look.

"Oops," Hermione stated simply.

"You'll pay for that one, Granger," Ginny whispered violently in her ear as she walked by.

"Hey, at least you're up now!" Hermione called after her.

A/N: Hey everyone so just one quick announcement. I will most likely NOT have any new updates for about a month...I'm going on vacation and then school is starting back up and a whole bunch of nonsense like that. I'm really sorry if that completely upsets anyone! But I thought it would be better if I gave you a head's up. But anyway, I hope you like this chapter, see you in a month!