DISCLAIMER: I own nothing but this twisted so-called "plot".
It was late in the afternoon. The dreamy, smouldering heat brought to mind sticky, bittersweet marmalade on warm toast. The soughing wind, freshly escaped from Morpheus' box of dreams, carried an oscitant drowsiness that it liberally deposited on all that it touched. The constant susurration of leaves ("...shh...shhh...shh...") was the sound that Hypnos' wings made when they folded around an unsuspecting Zeus and lulled him into a deep sleep.
The Astronomy Tower was made of ebony and poppy seeds. Harry reclined slowly till he lay flat on his back, and told the wretched tale of a bootless quest, a yawning cavern, an insidious black lake swarming with Inferi, and the absolute horror of having to force a debilitating liquid down Dumbledore's throat while fighting to ignore his anguished protests.
Hermione hugged her knees to her chest as she listened with her heart in her throat. That was no way for a man as great as Dumbledore to go. She still believed that there could be dignity in death, and Dumbledore had been entirely deprived. Destabilised by a vile potion, forced to relive his worst memories, and then murdered by a man he not only trusted, but had tirelessly defended time after time...
No. It was hideously unjust.
When Harry came to the end of his account, he let out a shuddering sigh and closed his eyes. Ron levelled a tense look at Hermione, silently urging her to say something. She pinched her lips between her teeth; oh but what could she say?
"Shh shh shh shh," the wind and the treetops whispered.
The angle of the sun was such that a few rays fell directly onto the shiny bronze telescopes that lined one side of the tower. The light that bounced back, brilliant and blinding, scattered haphazardly across the floor.
"'m sorry, mate," Ron said weakly.
From between her knees Hermione mumbled, "You were there with him... to the end. He must've been comforted by that."
"Yeah," Ron seconded awkwardly.
Harry said nothing, didn't move, didn't even open his eyes.
"Um, Harry?" Ron asked uncertainly. He scrunched his face and looked once more at Hermione.
"Harry?"
She leaned over to peer at his face, and...
And it appeared that Harry had fallen asleep.
"Shhh shh shh shhh shhh..."
They let him have his forty winks, and by the time they finally left the Astronomy tower, evening was close to settling in.
Hermione, Ron, and Harry walked silently back to the Gryffindor portrait hole, and on arriving there, found a rather large and buzzing crowd gathered out in the corridor.
"What on earth..." Hermione muttered, pushing her way through the horde.
"Why the fuck are you all standing out here?" Ron blared, but nobody bothered to enlighten him. He then turned to the fat lady, "Quid Ag–"
"Oh, I wouldn't go in there."
They turned to watch Dean saunter over with his hands in his pockets. "Alright, Harry?"
"Yeah," Harry replied, "But what's going on?"
Dean shrugged casually. "Seamus and his mum are having a row. It's been going on for a while... and it's loud and bloody ugly."
"What's it about then?" Ron demanded.
"She wants to take him home. He's not having it. So they're going to yawp at each other till one of them caves."
"Bloody hell. My money's on his mum," said Ron, "She's really er..."
"Forceful," Harry supplied expressionlessly.
And not a second later, the portrait hole swung open, and an extremely frazzled looking witch in deep plum robes charged forcefully out, tore through the crowd and down the corridor. Hermione shared a startled, nonplussed look with the three boys next to her, and then they all clamoured into the common room in a rush.
Seamus was sitting coolly on a plush armchair with a box of Honeydukes' mini chocolate nougat cakes. "What some?" he offered. Ron practically dived into the box.
"Um... what happened with your mum, Seamus?" Hermione broached.
He yanked the box away from Ron and gallantly held it in front of her. "She's getting a room in Hogsmeade," he said smoothly.
"You mean," Dean said slowly, "She's agreed to let you stay?"
"Let me?!" Seamus spluttered, "Ha boy, of course I'm staying."
He said it like he was genuinely offended that they'd even considered any other outcome to be a possibility.
Ginny appeared out of her dormitory a few minutes after with eyes full of sleep.
"What the fuck was all the yelling about?" she groaned, falling onto the sofa next to Harry.
"Finnigan family reunion," Ron said around a yawn.
"And you know what the Irish are like," Dean added.
"Rambunctious," Hermione finished with a nod.
"Piss off," Seamus grunted.
Conversation died out as they passed the box around, suddenly aware of how long it had been since they'd last eaten. The cake was divvied and gobbled up with singular alacrity, and everything else melted away. They had cake... and that, Hermione (and perhaps the ghost of Marie Antoinette) thought was plenty good enough.
The next morning, Hermione, Harry, Ron, and Ginny visited the hospital wing to see Bill and Neville. The atmosphere there was the exact opposite of what it had been the day before.
"Look sharp, Longbottom!" Fred barked as he tossed a rather fluffy looking purple ball at him. Neville caught it, and threw it over to George.
The twins, Bill, and Neville were playing catch in the hospital wing, and Hermione wondered what Madam Pomfrey would do if she happened to just step out of her office. Her eyes darted to the closed door...
"We've put an alarm on it," said George, giving Hermione a knowing look. He threw the ball towards Bill.
"Feeling okay, Bill?" Ron asked.
"Absolutely," he answered, neatly flinging the ball at Fred. The wounds on his face were now mostly dry and much less swollen, and his fantastic bone structure was once again beginning to show through.
"What about you, Neville?" said Ginny.
"Oh, I'm perfectly fine," he replied after completing his turn of catch-and-throw, "Dunno why Pomfrey won't let me leave."
With a painfully artificial gasp, Fred began, "Strapping young lad like you? She probably just wants to –"
What she wanted, they would never know. Hermione interrupted Fred with a horrified shriek: "EXCUSE ME – is that a Pygmy Puff?!"
"Mmhmm," Fred hummed, undeterred by her vocal intrusion, "Say hello to Argus."
Argus sailed through the air between Fred and Neville.
"You named your Pygmy Puff after Filch?" Harry asked with a disbelieving chuckle.
"We found we really miss the blighter," said George. Argus was in his possession, and he tossed him from one hand to the other rapidly, before throwing him at Bill... from under his leg.
"He's a living creature, you maniacs!" Hermione spluttered, even as around her, Harry, Ron, and Ginny were laughing.
"Give us some credit, Hermione," Fred reproached, "We aren't going to drop him. Two very well trained quidditch players here... and one chappie with keen animal instincts –"
"Careful, brother-mine," said Bill with a toothy grin, "The animal instinct knows nothing of familial sentiment."
Argus flew from Bill to Fred like a bullet. "Honestly!" Hermione cried.
"Y'know," Ron sniggered, "You're forgetting that the fourth person in this little game of yours is Neville..."
"Hey!" Neville protested indignantly. He forwent George, and threw Argus – hard – at Ron.
"Cool," said Ron as he caught the Pygmy Puff with ease, "Here, Harry..."
Harry caught Argus with one hand. "Enough now!" Hermione moaned, and Argus went from Harry to Ginny to Bill to Ron to Fred to Harry to Neville to George to Ginny...
"Bloody controlling, self-important, idiotic old –"
"THEO!" Hermione gasped, appalled and revolted, "Don't say that! Don't you dare – you can't – you mustn't –"
"Mustn't speak ill of the dead?" Theo spat vituperatively, "Fuck that. Fuck him. He's dead? Yeah, well he jolly well could've avoided that, couldn't he? If he had just gotten over himself and listened to Draco. Instead, he turned him away. Twice, Potter said, yeah? Fuck. That old bastard. How could he?!"
Keeping with her broad 'no secrets from Theo' (NSFT) rule [Addendum A to the above policy: Harry+Voldemore+Horcrux related issues are not to be disclosed] and led by the belief that he deserved to know, Hermione had told him what Harry had said about Malfoy and Dumbledore's confrontation. Now, she really, really regretted it.
They were standing at their spot by the lake after having picked up a cucumber sandwich each from the Great Hall. Theo hurled his half-eaten one into the water with a restrained but furious growl. He was proper trembling with anger and despair. Hermione looked away. Across the grounds, she could see a throng of Ministry officials strutting into the castle – all coming to attend Dumbledore's funeral set to be held the next day.
Fixing her eyes on the marching bureaucrats, Hermione said quietly, "He was trying to protect him, Theo. You know... if Voldemort –" Theo barely flinched at the name – "decided to use legilimency on him, he'd –"
"Bullshit. Draco is an expert Occlumens. Narcissa made sure of it... and if Dumbledore had just given him one fucking chance, he'd have known it too. Do you... Do you realise what it must've taken for him to do that? To go to Dumbledore... to go against everything, against his family, the Dark Lord... against himself... Oh, Salazar. And he turned him away. He turned him away." He gripped his hair, breathing heavily. Spinning in a wild circle, he strode to the edge of the forbidden forest, but before Hermione could take one step to follow, he turned around and paced right back.
"What do you think is happening to him right now, eh? Yup, poor old Dumbledore is dead, but what do you think that psychopath is doing to Draco right fucking now?"
Hermione swallowed copiously against the big ball of... something... lodged in her throat. "I believe... he's being lauded for pulling off a successful mission?"
He snorted scathingly. "Successful?! Darling, his mission was to kill Dumbledore. He failed. There's no question about it – he's being punished. Fucking brutally. Evil psycho-lord is particularly fond of torturing Malfoys, ever since Lucius got arrested..." and then he wholly, alarmingly shuddered.
[Addendum B to the NSFT policy: Say NOTHING about how on the night of the battle, Malfoy found time during the madness to pull her aside and make her promise to ensure Theo's safety, (he'd probably breakdown completely).]
"...We need to extract him out of there. Him and Narcissa. We need to..."
"Theo... That's... impossible. We don't even know where they are –"
"Dumbledore promised! He promised Draco he would hide him away! Sure he was bumped off, but that shouldn't negate –"
"Stop it."
"No! Listen... Draco tried to the right thing, okay? And your great sodding judicious old leader didn't let him. You – you all – you owe him this!"
Hermione could only look at him, her face full of hapless pity.
"Bloody shit," he hissed so low it was barely audible, and stormed back over to the edge of the forest. He stood there with his back to her, hand pressed hard against a tree trunk for support.
She stayed rooted to her spot until his shoulders stopped shaking... until he turned around and said he was ready to head back in.
With heavy steps, Hermione walked out of the library, sighing in defeat. She'd spent over an hour combing through the archives, looking for a plausible identity behind the initials R.A.B. All she'd come across were Rosalind Antigone Bungs, a ninety-eight year old pureblood of Hungarian ancestry, known for her exquisite collection of brocade mantles, and Rupert "Axebanger" Brookstanton, who... well... he'd fit right in with the Gauls in the world of 'Asterix'. He was an Auror who'd died on the job in the early 70's.
The library to the Gryffindor tower: it was a trail she'd covered so many times that she could walk it blind. She knew it in the earliest hours of the morning, and in the blackest of nights. She knew which stones on the floor had cracks, she knew where every taper hung, she knew every painting on every wall.
And they were thinking of closing the school. This could quite possibly be the last time she'd be walking down this hall, admiring the way the lamplight refracted off the stained glass windows. This could be the last time she climbed these steps, dragging her fingers along the cool, shiny banister. This could be the last time.
Before she knew it, she was back in her dormitory. Lavender's parents had whisked her away earlier that day, so Hermione had the whole place to herself. Feeling piteously forlorn, she thought to call Ginny over... but then again, there was a certain perverse fulfilment to be obtained by letting loneliness work on you.
She pulled her trunk out from under her bed and began packing. Clothes, books, stationary – all fell pell-mell, spurned into motion by a bit of silent, robotic, wandless magic. Her thoughts were far, far away.
She thought about her unsuspecting parents, probably sitting down for their evening meal after a long day at the clinic. She thought about Theo, so full of anguish... she'd have to say goodbye to him too, tomorrow. She thought about Luna, Neville, Seamus, and Dean... her brave friends who'd so willingly jumped in to help save the school. She thought about Ginny, who'd lost her heart to a boy with the most uncertain of fates. She thought about Ron and the grin that once made her world spin... that held still some power over her. She thought about Harry – oh Harry –
Hermione pushed open a window and shoved her head outside, breathing in a huge gulp of cool night air.
She thought about Hagrid, flat-out one of the kindest souls she'd ever known. She thought about dear McGonagall, the closest she'd had to a mentor. She thought about Flitwick; she thought about Vector and Babbling. She thought about Snape... that cruel curl of his lip ("...insufferable know-it-all...") that she imagined must have adorned his sallow face when he shot the curse that ruined everything.
She thought about Draco Malfoy. How desolate and doomed he must have felt that night, when he stood before her bound in ropes... "Just promise me you'll keep Theo safe, alright?" ...Ugh, that desperate plea had lodged itself in the furrows of her brain. Theo... Safe... Theo...
She thought about his hands, of all things. The hands that had pressed against her arm and mouth when he had accosted her. The hands that made beautiful, beautiful music when dancing over piano keys. Hands that held her books with obvious care, and wrote mystifying notes. Hands that fixed the vanishing cabinet and disarmed Albus Dumbledore.
Could he truly, at that moment, be cowering in some corner, suffering the terrible wrath of Voldemort?
Voldemort. She thought about Voldemort and felt tendrils of fury writhe inside her like thousands of delirious snakes. It all began with him... and it had to end with him. Well, first they'd have to figure out how to end him...
Without the slightest bit of confidence, Hermione picked up her wand and attempted to cast her strongest summoning charm yet. "Accio Horcrux book!" she cried. And forty-eight seconds later, a thick tome bound in faded black leather flew in through the dormitory window. She shouldn't have been shocked by how easy it had been; Dumbledore's wards had died with him.
She placed it on her bed – Secrets of the Darkest Art – and stared. The sinister air she perceived about it was probably all in her head, but still she couldn't bring herself to open it. Oh, she'd read it alright – every page, every word – but... not yet, not now. She didn't like the idea of attending Dumbledore's funeral with her head full of those secrets. It would taint the occasion.
She thought about Dumbledore; all his brilliant accomplishments, and his unfathomable decisions. She could only picture him at his spry, benevolent, and twinkling best; never as one who would manipulate situations, or ignore a boy desperate for help. She couldn't imagine him crying and breaking down when forced to face the mistakes of his past. She couldn't see him begging for mercy, nor bent and broken with death lying on him like an untimely frost.
One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.
She thought of Dumbledore and she thought, "Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"
On the soft, luxuriant grass by the lake stood a marble sepulchre: bright white and minimalistic – Dumbledore's final resting place. The funeral was over; all the attendants had left. Harry and Ron had gone to take care of some last minute packing, and Hermione lingered by the tomb... waiting.
The mermaids that had swum up to the surface to sing their lament were still somewhat visible below the surface of the lake, weaving through swirls and eddies.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
I do not think that they will sing to me.
The band running along the edge of the tomb was embossed with tiny half-moons and stars, so like the ones frequently seen on Dumbledore's robes. Hermione's gaze skittered across the panorama, taking in the lake and the grounds and the forest and the glorious castle. She now knew for sure that she would not be returning to Hogwarts whether it remained open or not, and yet it wasn't nostalgia she was feeling. It was some indescribable combination of resignation and approval; it had engulfed her the moment Harry said he'd be out tracking Horcruxes.
Then she heard the rustling of footsteps coming from behind her, and all she knew was dread.
"Ayup little girl," Theo said softly as he stood close beside her.
Hermione licked her suddenly bone-dry lips, and... oh, wonderful, she was tearing up already.
"Hermione?" He ducked his head and took in her face with concern.
"Yes, um, yes," she stuttered, straightening her shoulders, "Look Theo. You're a... target now. The Death Eaters are going to want to get their hands on you."
"Oooh, titillating," he said dryly. Hermione ignored him.
"So I spoke to Lupin, and the Order has set up a safehouse for you. He'll take you there today –"
"Waaaaaaaait a minute there, darling," Theo frowned, "Why didn't you speak to me first?!"
"I didn't think you'd be stupid enough to refuse, and – no shut up, listen – the safehouse is Luna's home."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
"Alright. I'll just swing by Malfoy Manor first, whisk Draco and Narcissa away and –"
"Are you MAD?"
Theo looked down his nose at her, "Perfectly sound, thanks. But this is non-negotiable."
"What makes you think he's even there? It was the first place the Ministry looked. Haven't you been reading the papers? They tore the place down hunting for him and Snape!" Hermione said incredulously.
"I don't care!" Theo yelled, "I need to see for myself. He must've left some clue... some... some..."
Hermione wrung her hands desperately. "Theo," she appealed, "He's with Snape... with Voldemort... you're not going to be able to find him."
"Gah!" he howled in distress, burying his face in his hands.
"Please, please, listen to me. Go stay with Luna till this is all... over. There's no sense in you running out into the wild and getting killed. Theo. Please."
Slowly, he removed his hands, and the face they revealed was disturbingly... lifeless. Hollow. "Fine," he uttered impassively, "When will you join us?"
Oh god. She bit back a sob and took a deep breath. "Well, I have to go home first and... and modify my parents' memories. Then there's Bill Weasley's wedding –"
Theo snorted in disbelief; "You're joking."
"Heh. I know it seems like bad timing but... they all need something to celebrate..."
"Right. Delightful," he said in a clipped manner, "And then you'll come to the safehouse?"
The way he was looking at her, challengingly and searchingly, made Hermione certain he knew full well that she wasn't planning on joining him. He was just waiting for her to confirm it out loud.
"I'll be going with Harry. Dumbledore gave him a task to do, and I –"
"No. Sorry. Absolutely not."
Exhaling heavily, she timidly reached out to touch his arm... but he jerked out of reach.
"Hermione, no. There's no sense in you running out into the wild and getting killed, yeah?" he parroted savagely.
"I'm not going in blind, Theo –" (she absolutely was,) "– We have to do this! It's the only way to stop Voldemort!"
"What?" he demanded through gritted teeth, "What do you have to do?"
"I... I can't..." she stuttered.
"You can't tell me?!" His eyes widened unbelievingly, "Seriously...?"
"I can't, Theo... Oh, I really can't! You know I trust you more than anyone –" and he turned away from her in disgust "– I do. You know that. But this is Harry's secret to tell, and I can't –"
"For FUCK'S SAKE," he growled, "Harry's task, Harry secret; Harry, Harry, Harry. Why is he the main bloody protagonist in your life story? It's pathetic. You make everything about him. You go scurrying after him no matter what –"
"This is not just about him! Come on, Theo – it's about stopping Voldemort, and yes, unfortunately that all comes down to Harry!"
"EXACTLY! It comes down to Harry. Not you!"
"I can't abandon him! He needs me, and –"
"Well, of course he needs you! He probably won't last a day without you watching his bumptious chosen arse!"
"So then?! You know I have to go with him!"
Theo pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed deeply. He looked shrewdly at Hermione for a full minute, and then said, "I'm coming with you."
"Ughhhgoorrrd," Hermione breathed, "No!"
"Yes. I. Am." he said forcefully.
"Harry's scarcely agreed to let Ron and me go along! He'll never agree to this..."
"Oh! Oh my! King Potter cannot handle a 'too bad, bugger off, suck it up' is it?!"
"It's his mission, Theo! If you do this, he might... he might not let me go along either –"
"Good! Excellent! Problem solved!"
"He needs me, and –"
"I NEED YOU," Theo shouted, stalking impossibly close to her, "I need you! My wellness... my sanity... my fucking life depends on you now, okay? I need you. I don't know where the hell Draco is – and I... I won't... I won't be able to go on if something were to happen to you. Hermione. I need you."
There was a watery shimmer across his eyes, but it was nothing compared to the state Hermione was in. Tears were falling rapidly down her heated cheeks.
"Nothing," she stressed, "Is going to happen to me."
"Merlin love a Dugbog... please! You can't know that!" he differed fervently.
"But I do! Nothing is going to happen to me because I refuse to let it! No listen," she implored hotly when he scoffed, "I absolutely and wholly intend to get through this godawful shitstorm with my mind and body intact. And you know full well that nothing can oppose the force of my determination."
Her words weren't... effective. Theo was looking miserable and entirely unimpressed. In a fit of desperation, Hermione said every damn thing that popped into her head.
"I have a list!" she exclaimed, "Things I simply have to do, see... and... and... House-elves! Social inequality! The Muggle Studies curriculum!"
"You're a lunatic! You're batty! Stop this nonsense, you're –"
"Werewolves! Medical synthesis! The Weird Sisters have nothing on The Who! Theo, I'll see you when it's all over, okay? I'll take you to that favourite bakery of mine. I'll take you to the cinema. I'll restore my parents' memories, and we can all go together!"
Nearly every word she spoke was punctuated with a sob. She stared up at Theo and took in his every feature: floppy, tousled hair (which she realised – with a start – was nearly the same colour as hers); thin, angular face (currently flushed with emotion); deep, deep blue eyes (like the ocean at night). He pursed his lips (rightfully made to be pulled up in a mischievous grin,) and blinked the moisture away from his eyes.
"I'd like to meet them," he said croakily, "You parents."
"They'll adore you."
"'Course they will. Everybody does."
Hermione sputtered out a watery laugh. Then she threw her arms around his neck. He hugged her back immediately, lifting her right off the ground. She closed her eyes and buried her nose in his scarf; she could feel his every exhale against the back of her neck.
"Love you," she murmured, and he squeezed her tightly against himself.
When she opened her eyes, peering over Theo's shoulder, she saw three figures making their way across the grounds towards them. With a sigh, she slipped back down onto her feet, took a step away, and lightly spun him around to face the approaching trio.
As they neared, Hermione recognised Lupin and Luna, but the third person was a stranger to her. He was tall and barrel-chested, with white hair so frizzy and fluffy that it made Hermione feel better about her own. Upon that atrocious hair sat a comically tiny fez.
"Hemione, Theodore," Lupin greeted briskly, "This is Xenophilius Lovegood."
"Hello," Hermione muttered, but the man was too busy examining Theo.
"So... you're the boy, eh? The boy... that is, my Luna's... er..."
"He's my boyfriend, daddy," Luna said steadily.
"Yes. That."
Said boyfriend was chewing his tongue nervously, struggling to maintain eye contact. "Nice to meet you, sir," he rushed out.
"Humph. Born on a leap day, weren't you? Such people are known to be inconstant."
Lupin cleared his throat loudly, and to Theo's great relief, took hold of the situation. "We've secured the place... it's ready. We'll be apparating straight from Hogsmeade. Are you packed and ready to leave?"
Theo nodded. Luna then turned to Hermione and pressed a piece of parchment into her hand.
"That's for you," she said, "Remus told me how this whole thing was your idea... Thank you, Hermione."
Hermione hugged her, and in the lowest tone she could manage, she whispered into her ear: "Take care of him."
"I will," she whispered back. They broke apart, and Luna looked Hermione dead in the eye, "And you take care of yourself."
There was nothing else left to do or say. But still, Hermione wanted one last chance to look at Theo – just look at him – and so that's what she did. "Come on," she vaguely registered Luna say as she led Lupin and her father away.
Theo's mouth was quivering, but besides that, his expression was placid. His eyes... oh but his eyes were tumultuous.
"Well," Hermione rasped, "Goodbye."
"Goodbye."
He put his hands on her shoulders and kissed her forehead, and she closed her eyes. When she felt a gust of cool air hit her face, she knew he was no longer standing in front of her. Unable to watch him retreat, she turned to face Dumbledore's tomb again and stared at the glossy marble, at the half-moons and stars, until her tears caused it to blur into a giant white blob. She swiped at her eyes, and stared at the grass, the damp hem of her sombre dress robes, and finally looked at the parchment Luna had given her.
'The Lovegood House is located at Ottery St Catchpole in Devon, England.'
How long did she stand there? It was hard to determine. She was in a strange state of semi-awareness, from which she was only (and abruptly) pulled out of when Ginny came and stood next to her.
"The train's set to leave in half an hour," she said.
Hermione nodded, and with an arm around each other's waists, the two girls turned back towards the castle.
"Harry broke up with me. ...And you're not surprised at all."
Hermione pulled a sympathetic face, "Are you?"
"No," Ginny sighed.
"How are you?"
"I'm... not surprised," she answered bleakly, "And you? Alright?"
Hermione looked up at the turrets and spires of the place that had been her second home for the last six years. It was the end of the world as she knew it, and
"I feel fine," she said.
.
.
A/N:
And with that, I have officially put away The Half-Blood Prince. We will now be delving into The Deathly Hallows territory. A big THANK YOU to everyone who's been reading, following, favouriting, and/or leaving reviews.
A special thank you to ForsakenKalika, minuet33, slytherinxbadxgirl, TheCrownprincessBride, Theta Delphine, and TheAyaPapaya for being so encouraging, enthusiastic, and supportive.
Another one to ElleMartin and Jess6800 for liking this story enough to promote it.
And to I was BOTWP... thank you for being the best god damn cheerleader a newbie could've asked for.
I'd send you all giant bouquets of exotic flowers... but the only owl I own is made of porcelain.