A/N: Thanks and gratitude to SortingHat47, who told me no one would kill me for the goings on of Chap. 11. Thanks also to Zarathustra, somehow deals with my love of commas.
Disclaimer: JKRowling was the one who royally screwed Remus Lupin and Severus Snape over — er, created Remus and Snape. (Didn't it seem pretty ironic poor Snape ended up dead for the sake of convenience, rather than actually getting caught spying? Not saying I liked him a whole lot better after that, but I did think that was a pretty lousy way to go…)
Also, a couple of days ago, I threw together a short one-shot thing called "Breathe." It's angst-y Remus and angst-y Sirius, and a couple of my close fanfic pals convinced me it was pretty good, so I posted it here somewhere. Check it out!
Chapter 12: Discovery
Thursday, 5 September, 1985—10:45 a.m.
As far as Severus Snape was concerned, it was an incontrovertible fact that the students were more idiotic and less respectful each school year — and he had only been teaching for four years. He shuddered to think what the students would be like in ten years.
He had developed an uncanny ability to detect when students were doing something that they ought not be doing — and had developed the stealth necessary to discover what those things were. Like now, for instance….
While Severus found the subject of Potions fascinating, he was keenly aware that very few people felt the same way. The two fifth years he was focused on right now were examples of that. They had barely passed this course last year. So, when Severus saw them with their eyes glued to the Potions text — practically enraptured — he knew they weren't seeing the words that were on the page.
He made his way to the back of the room then came silently up the aisle behind the two boys. Ah, yes. Something was tucked inside the Potions textbook. Several small things, actually. They looked like postcards.
Severus took three long, silent strides to bring him behind the boys, reached down and plucked the cards right out of the boys' hands before they even knew he was there.
"I would expect nothing else from two who just barely made it through this class last year," he said dryly. "Whose are these?"
"Mine, sir," replied Jonathan Blotts. He was blond and handsome, and much favoured by the girls in every House, not just Ravenclaw. He was also remarkably stupid by Ravenclaw standards. There was more than one professor who thought the Sorting Hat must have been playing a horrible joke to have sorted him into that House.
"Yours." Severus glanced down at the top card. It was charmed to show coloured marquee lights chasing each other around the words: "Bentley and Parsons' Carnival of Dark and Dangerous Creatures." After a few seconds, the logo would disappear, and whatever message had been written would appear, along with the address of the person for whom the postcard was intended. "It is too bad that your father did not spend the money on a tutor for you, instead of on — these."
"Oh, but sir, he did," Blotts protested. "He hired a Potions tutor for me this summer."
"Did he now?" Snape felt one corner of his lips twist into an almost-smile. This was going to be — fun. "Well, why don't we see how well your tutor did this summer?" He tucked the cards into a pocket in his robes. "Everyone put your books away and let's have our first quiz of the year, shall we?"
There were groans, and several black looks were thrown in the direction of Severus and the unfortunate Mr Blotts.
"You will now list the ingredients of the Invigoration Draught, tell what it is used for, and the possible side effects." Severus walked slowly toward his desk, stopping to look down his nose at one student in particular. "Mr Burrows, I suggest you keep your handwriting to a reasonable size, or you will be writing ten times as much for me in detention." He took the last couple of steps to the desk, lifted his chin to survey the class with scorn then intoned, "You may begin."
While the students slaved over their work, he took the postcards out of his pocket and glanced at the one on the top. He recognized the name that was flashing on the front. This was the carnival that Hagrid and Kettleburn hadn't yet visited in the search for Lupin.
Curious in spite of himself, Severus turned the card over, and saw a hippogriff. It looked as if it was staring right at him, but it bowed its head and then its beak moved, as if it were squawking at him.
Slightly impressed, the Potions master put it on the bottom of the stack and shuffled through the others. He saw a clabbert, a niffler, and a jarvey…. He suddenly dropped the cards as if his fingers had been burned. They spread out as they hit the desk, and the one that had startled him fell free of the others.
He stared at it with wide eyes, lost in the memories of all those years ago, when he had — out of curiosity, out of anger, out of something else altogether maybe — gone under the Whomping Willow.…
He quickly gathered the postcards, putting the most frightening one at the bottom then placed them inside the top drawer on the right hand side of his desk. His heart was beating rapidly, and he was having a hard time catching his breath.
He now knew exactly where Remus Lupin was.
But — what was he to do with that information?
Friday, 6 September—7:14 p.m.
There was nothing for it. That asinine postcard was going to drive him insane. He had tried to ignore it, tried to forget about it, but every time he looked at his desk he thought of it. When he was eating steak and kidney pie for dinner last night, he found himself thinking about werewolves and meat, and completely lost his appetite. A chance remark in the Staff Room this morning about Blotts and his deficiency at Transfiguration made him think about the cards all over again.
But damn it all! He didn't want to think of Lupin, or that postcard! Or if he did think about it, he only wanted to be able to remember that the thing in the picture had nearly killed him. It deserved to be in the cage, behind those bars that could be seen. Lupin deserved it!
Didn't he?
Severus went to his classroom and, thanks to familiarity, found his way to his desk without turning on the lights and without injury.
Holding his breath, he opened the top drawer. His nimble fingers found the card at the bottom and withdrew it. Without making sure it was the right one, he tucked it into his pocket and went back to his rooms.
Once there, he sat down in a chair near the fireplace and picked up the glass of wine he had poured earlier.
What made him so certain the werewolf on the postcard was Lupin? Surely werewolves looked alike — how many different colours could there be?
And even if it was Lupin, why did it matter to him? It was Lupin, for Merlin's sake! He had almost been killed by Lupin — and Black! But even as he thought that, he sighed. Lupin hadn't been aware of what Black had done. Judging by the gossip-worthy month-long estrangement between the two Gryffindors, Lupin had wanted no part of it.
Had he been kidnapped as Moody claimed? Severus sipped at the wine. Lupin had done a remarkable job of hiding his — condition — from the students at Hogwarts. Why would he now voluntarily reveal himself as a werewolf? And why would he do it in such a —public manner?
Because he had nothing left to lose.
His parents were dead, if Severus wasn't mistaken — and he rarely was — and Lupin's friends — he closed his eyes, thinking of Lily — were either dead or in Azkaban.
Who was left to honestly care if the picture on this postcard was Lupin? Why should Severus care?
He'd almost been killed by Lupin!
The professors at Hogwarts were concerned. They'd promised to help Moody in the search. But if they found out that the werewolf was dead, would they mourn his loss? Maybe for a day or two, but then there would be students to take their attention — exams to administer, detentions to give, advice to distribute — and the memory of Lupin would slip away.
Would it be like that for me? I had nothing left to lose when I came here. No family to speak of, no friends…. All I ever had was Lily, and I lost her….
Lily had loved Lupin.
Not in the same way she loved James. But she had confessed her crush to Severus in the summer between their second and third years. It was after that point that Severus had really noticed Lupin's absences, and had become curious….
Nothing had ever happened between Lily and Lupin, or at least nothing more than a deep friendship. Or at least, not to Snape's knowledge — and he had made it his business to know.
Lily would want him to save Lupin. Lily would have already gone to Bentley and Parsons' Carnival, and seen for herself whether or not the werewolf was Lupin.
Severus finished the wine in one swallow and stood up. He would tell Minerva McGonagall that he had something to do — some ingredients he needed for a potion for the sixth years, maybe — and he'd be gone for an hour. There was no point in telling anyone what he was doing. There was no point in getting anyone's hopes up.
I could wait for Hagrid or Kettleburn to find him…. The thought stopped him in his tracks. They were already planning to go to Bentley and Parsons'. Which day had they chosen? Tomorrow? No. Sunday morning, they had said. Surely Lupin could wait for two more days….
He heard Kettleburn's voice: "Moody's worried that it may already be too late."
He traded his professor's robes for robes of a little better quality, but still black. In another couple of minutes, he was striding quickly through the halls to find McGonagall.
He'd do this for Lily. And only because of Lily.
8:04 p.m.
There were four young men, only slightly younger than Severus, crowded around the smiling American at the gate of Bentley & Parsons' Carnival when the Potions professor arrived.
"No, boys, there's nothing I can do about it."
"But can't you get him to transform every weekend or something? My girlfriend wants to see it," whined one of the youths.
A dark-haired boy on the left of the whiner punched him in the arm. "Stupid git! A werewolf only transforms at the full moons! Don't you watch the movies?"
Severus froze. A werewolf. And it's still here. He's….
But before Severus could complete the thought, he heard someone call his name. Startled, he turned quickly and saw another young man break away from another small group of young people just emerging from the tent. The young man was immediately familiar to him as someone who had just left Hogwarts a year previous. He had been uncommonly gifted in Potions, and Severus had enjoyed teaching him — as much as it was possible teaching young cretins….
"Professor Snape! I thought it was you!" The young man seemed almost ready to extend his hand, but thought better of it.
Severus nodded stiffly in acknowledgement. "Firestone."
He could still hear the babbling of the young men crowded around the American.
"…can't believe how real it all was!"
"All that blood! It was brilliant!"
"I've never seen any special effects like that, even in the movies!"
Firestone interrupted Snape's eavesdropping by continuing his conversation. "How are you, sir?"
"I am well. And you?"
"Wonderful! I just got hired by an apothecary in Leeds…." And without any concern that his story might bore his listener to tears, Firestone launched into a lengthy account of how he'd gotten the job.
A comment from the whiny young man stole his attention. "You could make thousands if you'd just let him do that act every weekend."
"Ah, look..." The American leaned forward, beckoning to the boys to come closer. "The thing is, the Actors' Guild won't permit it, you know. With all the hours he spends in that cage, and that whole transformation thing, well…."
"Bloody hell," sighed the shortest boy there. "I guess I'll have to wait, then."
"You just should have told your mum —"
"It was her birthday!" the boy protested. "You can't tell your mum you're going to go watch a werewolf transform instead of going to her birthday party."
'Watch a werewolf transform'? They actually….
"So, I told them that I had you as my Potions teacher, and they decided to give me a go," Firestone continued happily.
It was then that Severus noticed that the American had been listening to Firestone's prattling. It had been very cleverly done, but the man had worked his way around the crowd of boys so that he was now closer to Snape and Firestone, and one ear was casually cocked in their direction.
"I am… happy for you," Severus said finally, thinking inwardly that he really didn't care at all, but convention demanded at least a polite answer at this point. Besides, he wasn't sure why the man was listening to them. Surely the job prospects of a young wizard in Leeds couldn't be that interesting.
"C'mon Firestone!" someone called.
The younger man glanced back at his friends. "I have to go, but I did want to say hello, and, er, thanks."
"No thanks are needed," Severus said. "I wish you success."
"Thank you!" The boy smiled broadly. "Enjoy the show. It's too bad the werewolf exhibit is closed, though. I'd have liked to have seen it."
The American turned at Firestone's words. "You'll need to come back at the next full moon and see the show!"
"I heard it was amazing," the apothecary's apprentice commented.
"You'll never see anything like it in your life," the man promised.
"Let's go, Firestone!"
The younger man said a quick goodbye and walked away, leaving the American and Severus standing face to face.
"What kind of show could you have involving a werewolf — especially at the full moon?" Severus asked.
"We allow you to spend an hour in the same room with a transformed werewolf — for a small price, of course." The man's grin was predatory.
"Of course," Snape said dryly. "Though that sounds… dangerous."
"Nah," the American scoffed. "He's behind bars. It's perfectly safe." He glanced around, and saw that they were now alone. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you…."
"I thought that was what we were doing," Severus said.
The man chuckled. "So it is. No, listen…." He grabbed Snape's arm and tugged. The Potions master looked down at the offending hand, then up at the man's face. The look on his face apparently was enough to convince the man to let go, and then motion for Severus to follow him a few steps away from the tent's flaps — and any people who might be exiting.
"I heard that kid say you taught Potions."
Severus said nothing.
"Let me introduce myself. I'm Bill Parsons, co-owner of Bentley and Parsons' Carnival of Dark and Dangerous Creatures."
"Severus Snape." Neither man extended his hand.
The man did smile, however. "You know a carnival of our nature has access to a variety of potion ingredients, for a reasonable price: Jobberknoll feathers, doxy eggs, Murtlap tentacles…" he paused for dramatic effect, "…ground Erumpent horn, Re'em blood, werewolf blood.…"
"Some of those are highly regulated substances," Severus said calmly.
"They are," the other man agreed. "But it's always useful to have on hand for some of the more… interesting spells, don't you think?"
"What makes you think I would be interested in such a thing?"
Parsons rolled his eyes and with a wide sweep of his hand, indicated the black robes that Severus wore. "I've been in this business long enough to know someone who is familiar with the Darker elements of magic."
The Potions professor's eyes narrowed. "I doubt very much that my Headmaster would approve of anything with Darker elements being introduced to the students."
"Ah, but you have to have some of the Darker stuff on hand, don't you?" the American pressed. "If only for the educational aspects of it."
"I can get those sorts of things from the Ministry," Severus pointed out. "Or from suppliers with whom I've been trading."
"Not at the price I could get them for you," Parsons smirked.
"And how much would you charge for items such as Murtlap tentacles, or doxy eggs, or…" Severus paused, "…werewolf blood?" Lupin's blood….
"The tentacles range from five to ten Galleons, depending on if you want them dried or fresh. Doxy eggs, well, those are two Galleons a litre—and the other? A mere twenty Galleons for half a litre."
"Twenty Galleons?" Severus repeated, raising an eyebrow slightly.
The other man shrugged.
"The Ministry sells a full litre for seventy-five, but it is guaranteed to have been drawn from a fully transformed werewolf," Snape said.
"Oh, I could guarantee that this was from the wolf, too," Parsons said. "And there are tests you can do to prove that it was. I'd be willing to prove it to you."
Severus clasped his hands behind his back. "Am I to assume the blood is from the werewolf you have here?"
"He has to earn his keep somehow," the American said with a shrug.
"Taken at the last full moon?"
The carnival owner smiled, thinking that he had the potions master hooked, and was reeling him in slowly. "Yes. And chilled right away, so there was no chance for contamination."
"It seems you have taken every precaution to preserve its efficacy," Severus said.
"Absolutely."
"I will think on it, then," Snape said.
"You'll have to let me know soon," Parsons warned him. "I can only draw so much out of him at a time, and it usually sells quickly."
"I understand." Severus took a step back, intimating that the conversation was over. "I did come here to see your creatures, though, and I would like to do that. I am sure I will have come to some decision by the end of my — visit."
Parsons nodded. "Of course. And you know what? I'll waive the entrance fee for you. Just this once, you understand."
"That is very — generous of you," Severus said.
The American slapped him on the back. "No problem. Let me know what you think of our pets, all right?"
Taking a chance and a deep breath that was imperceptible to Parsons, Severus asked, "I know you said the werewolf exhibit is closed, but is there a chance I can see the werewolf?"
The man hesitated, "No, I don't think that's possible. He really had a bad transformation this last time, and he's not been well since."
"He's not sick, is he? That might affect —"
"No, no. He just ripped himself up pretty good."
Locked in a cage with humans watching him from just outside his reach? Yes, a werewolf would have little choice…
"— another time, though," Parsons was saying. "I'll be sure to introduce you."
Severus nodded curtly and let the other man steer him through the flaps and into the tent.
The smells of sawdust, dirt, fur, and feathers made his nose twitch. He had never been one for magical creatures. They were dirty and smelly, or at least most them were. And if they weren't sneaky, they were dangerous.
Still, even from his jaded perspective, the winged foal was, for lack of a better word, cute, and the clabbert gave him such a cheeky grin as he walked by, that he almost returned it before he could stop himself.
There were many other animals and he was impressed at how well they seemed to be faring, locked as they were in these cages. From his quick glances, they seemed to be well-fed and contented. Whoever had been tending these animals knew what they were doing, obviously.
He neared the far end of the tent, but before he got there, he heard sounds that he'd heard only once before and hoped never to hear again. His eyes focused on a box-like contraption attached to the last cage on the right. A television, he realized, stopping in front of it.
Outwardly impassive, he watched the werewolf attack the bars and itself. Inwardly, however, he flinched at every snarl and bite. He crossed his arms in front of his chest as he closely watched the beast return to its human form. Was it Lupin? The shadows made it nearly impossible to tell…
The man on the screen raised his head, a quick movement that only lasted a second, and the light hit him brutally across the face making him flinch away. But Severus had seen a cheekbone, the flash of a blue eye, and the shape of a nose that was familiar.
Damn.
Behind the television were panels of wood that Severus assumed covered bars, like the rest of the exhibits. But behind those bars … was Lupin.
A young couple came up beside him to watch the tape, which had started playing again. They made several derogatory remarks about the werewolf, though Severus wondered how many of their comments were made out of bravado, rather than outright scorn. After watching the transformation twice, they went on, giving Snape several discomfited glances. Yes, he supposed that looming around the werewolf's cage, watching that tape over and over might be considered odd. It certainly wasn't something he wanted to be doing.
Finally the couple moved further away so that Severus could act. He had been inspecting the wood panels and could tell where the doorway was. He stepped forward and ran his hand over the wood. Yes, there were hinges at the top and bottom of the smaller panel, but they had been enchanted to be invisible. So if there were hinges on this side, there had to be door handle or a latch….
He glanced around to make sure no one was near. "Finite incantatem," he whispered, with a quick flick of his hand. Sometimes he could do this without a wand, if the original spell was simple enough.
A simple iron handle appeared, as did the hinges — and a small window.
Heart thumping, he put his eye up to the window.
Lights from outside shone against the far tent wall, backlighting the bars of the cage — but not much else. Was there something on the floor? He couldn't tell.
Severus pulled on the door handle, and it came open easily enough. Behind it, however, was the cage door. He was about to open the lock when the thought suddenly struck him that the door might be warded against intrusion, or more likely, against Lupin getting out.
He took his wand out of his pocket and another look around, and whispered a quick charm with a wide-sweeping arching movement. A green light seemed to settle over the door, but he could see red threads overhead and around the outside bars of the cage. No wards to keep anyone in or out of the cage or to warn if someone went through the door, but there were some kinds of wards around the entire tent. Well, he'd deal with those in a bit.
A simple "Alohomora!" unlocked the door, and it swung open. He made certain he pulled the wooden door shut as he went through it, hoping no one would bother the hinges and the handle that were now visible.
Already, he knew he was not alone. He could hear the quick and labored breathing of someone — or something. The strong stench of urine and vomit couldn't mask the sweeter but nastier smell of a wound rife with infection.
"Lumos!" he snapped.
The werewolf — is it him? — was lying on his right side, with his back to Severus. The Potions master went to peer over the man's shoulder. He stared for a long moment, realizing that the scraggly beard and the bruises couldn't conceal the fact that the profile was the same on the tape.
"Lupin," he whispered.
The man didn't move.
Severus went around and knelt in front of Lupin, letting his eyes sweep down along the werewolf's form. A blanket covered him from his naked chest to halfway down his denim-clad legs.
"You reek, Lupin," Snape commented, reaching out to touch the other man's face. The skin under the unwashed brown hair was hot, even though his body was shaking with chills.
He wanted nothing more than to just pull Lupin up and Apparate out of here, but he wasn't sure what injuries the werewolf had. Not wanting to touch the grungy, stained blanket, he flicked his wand at it. "Evanesco." The blanket vanished. It was too disgusting to take with them, and if Lupin needed a blanket that badly, Severus would conjure one. Lupin shivered even more violently.
There were a few wounds on the man's arms and torso that Severus knew had to be caused by claws or teeth, but so far, he couldn't see anything that wouldn't have been healed fairly easily. But what was under the bandages around the werewolf's belly? He carefully eased Lupin onto his back. The man inhaled sharply then moaned. His forehead furrowed in pain and he moved his left arm so it pressed against the bandages.
"No," Severus said quietly. He gently placed Lupin's arm at his side then muttered a quick charm to sever the strips of white cloth. The werewolf shuddered and again groaned.
It was a nasty wound — caused by something sharp that had ripped across Lupin's belly, but there was only one gash and it wasn't jagged, so it couldn't have been caused by claws. The skin around the wound was red, hot, and swollen, but Severus knew already that this wasn't the main source of the worst smell of infection. A quick spell created more bandages that wrapped themselves around Lupin. It wasn't much, but it would be enough until they got out of here.
He suddenly noticed that Lupin's right hand was swaddled in cloth. He reached for it but decided against examining it. Whatever was wrong with Lupin's hand couldn't be bad enough to keep them from Apparating.
Lupin suddenly started breathing harder and faster and he whimpered, sounding remarkably similar to a small child — or a small puppy.
Severus reached over and laid his hand on Lupin's forehead. "Settle," he said gently.
The werewolf's eyes fluttered open and he stared at Snape with no sign of recognition.
"It will be all right," Severus said.
Lupin's chapped lips moved, but no sound emerged.
"I don't suppose you are in any kind of shape to tell me where it hurts exactly, are you?" Snape asked.
The werewolf again pressed his arm to the wound across his abdomen, but began to fitfully turn his head from one side to the other, while muttering something that Severus couldn't understand. He bent his right leg and seemed ready to try to push himself over onto his left side, but the Potions professor stopped him by pressing gently on his knee.
Again Lupin mumbled something of which Severus heard part.
What? Something Bert? Who is Bert?
Shaking his head, because he supposed it didn't really matter, Severus eyed the blue jeans that Lupin was wearing. There didn't seem to be any bloodstains or tears that might indicate an injury…
And then he saw the chain. It was attached to the bars and Snape's gaze followed it to Lupin's left ankle.
Silver! He shoved the werewolf's right leg down and tugged at the left leg of his jeans, ignoring the soft cry of pain the man uttered.
He was so horrified that he couldn't even think of an adequate swear word.
The silver cuff around Lupin's ankle had seared through the layers of skin and muscle so that bone was visible in one spot among the oozing pus. Red lines streaked up his leg and down his foot. Heart in his mouth, Severus put his hand on Lupin's foot, cursing at the lack of warmth. If he didn't get Lupin out of here and get him treatment now, the werewolf would lose that foot for sure.
"Relashio," he snapped. The silver cuff fell away from Lupin's leg. Severus gingerly worked it out from under the other man's leg and tossed it away from them.
The werewolf let out a shuddering groan of relief. Almost immediately, however, he winced as the fire caused by the presence of the silver receded, allowing fresh agony from the actual wound and infection course through him.
"…Libertas… Clementia..." Lupin panted.
Severus leaned closer to hear the man's words. Freedom? Mercy? He couldn't help saying, "Lupin, if you insist on talking, at least attempt to make some bit of sense, would you?"
The werewolf's left hand suddenly came up and grabbed the front of Snape's robes in a firm grip that no one could have imagined. The blue eyes blazed with pain and fever — and something akin to madness. "Help me… go… with Libertas," he managed to say between gasping inhalations.
Severus stared at him. Was Libertas a person? Because to say 'Help me go with freedom' made absolutely no sense. "Where did Libertas — go?" he asked carefully.
There was a flash of fear in Lupin's eyes, but then the firmness returned. "…Clementia…"
"Mercy?" whispered Severus. And then he understood what the wounded man was asking of him.
He stared at Lupin, utterly aghast. "You are out of your mind. It must be the pain," he decided. "You will be fine as soon as we Disapparate out of here."
Lupin groaned with frustration and released the other man's robes. "Can't."
Severus brushed absently at them then stood up. "I'll help you up, and —"
"Can't," Lupin repeated, closing his eyes. "Wards."
It took Severus a moment to put Lupin's words together with the red threads he had seen when he had cast the ward-revealing charm earlier. "There are Anti-Apparition wards over the tent?"
But the werewolf was already sinking back into unconsciousness.
Now what?
The first thing to do was to establish that Lupin knew what he was talking about. In his fevered state, he might not even be right. Severus would try Disapparating just into the corridor, to see if he could at least do that…
He couldn't. And no matter how hard he concentrated, he couldn't Disapparate anywhere else, either. Lupin was right.
Severus knelt by the werewolf's side and again touched his face. Was it his imagination, or was Lupin even hotter? And was it the subtle blue tones to the light at the tip of his wand that made Lupin's skin look so grey?
He had to get the werewolf out of here and he was running out of time. Bill Parsons was going to realize at any minute that he hadn't come out of the tent, and it would just require a quick walk down through the tent, and an even quicker glance at the handle and hinges that were now visible…
Focusing on a singularly happy moment in his life — a moment involving a red-haired girl who he would have done anything for, and had — he conjured a Patronus, whispering a quick message…
8:57 p.m.
Albus Dumbledore settled back in his chair and sipped at his glass of wine, a long finger marking where he had been reading.
Fawkes squawked from his perch, and the Headmaster smiled at him. He might have spoken to the bird, but at that moment, a silver streak flew in through the open window. He watched it form into the shape of a doe and prance lightly around his office. It finally stopped in front of his desk, and whispered the astonishing words: "I've found Lupin. Come to Bentley & Parsons' Carnival immediately."
I'm out of hiding, but you're still not going to throw anything at me, right?