How High the Moon

.ψ.

Chapter Fourteen: Being Careful (Part Two)

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…there's something about the hesitation in your step

something so beautiful and scared

and something hard about the truth that you accept

and still you find a savior there…

-'It Is Enough', The Waiting

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The kitchen was a quiet, sparse room with unfinished walls and a number of muggle appliances. There were only a few lights -electric lights, incidentally- illuminating the room, since it was very late. Outside, the night was dark and stormy and pissing down. Rain lashed at a large set of windows with vicious intensity. Further testimony to the wet state of the world in and around London could be found on the floor, as evidenced by the large puddles of water that were tinged with blood. The only furniture was a table and a few chairs where four teenagers were perched in varying states of injury.

Harry Potter, for his part, was in agony.

His head felt like a ticking bomb. It wasn't the sort of stabbing pain he could link with his scar acting up or peering into Voldermort's happier thoughts. He supposed he should probably be thankful for that, since that sort of pain could also mean snake-face was trying to get inside of his head. There was enough on his plate without worrying about that, thank you very bloody much.

Especially after everything he'd just learned.

I mean, fuck! No wonder his skull was ready to burst like an overripe melon!

Aunt Petunia, the letters, Dumbledore's last message to him … he'd gotten questions answered last night –even some that he'd never dared to ask out loud- but now there were a thousand more. Why hadn't Aunt Petunia ever told him? Alright, he knew why. The woman hated him. But still! Dudley, his grandparents … His parents' graves for Christ's sake! And then there was the message…

Harry didn't know if he could follow through with Dumbledore's last request. It was almost as scary as the idea of facing Voldermort himself. But it wasn't like he hadn't done it before, right? Yes, he had done it before and now he would just have to do it again. Still, this was definitely the sort of thing that could make a bloke's skull split.

But he knew that it wasn't Dumbledore's letter or even his scar that made his head pound like a drum.

He sighed as he leaned back in his chair and waited for the geriatric house elf to get back with Myra. That one had even more wrinkles than Kretcher himself! He wished they would hurry, and not just so that Hermione didn't bleed out and die on the cheap linoleum flooring. The sooner she got here, the sooner his friends' attentions would be fixed elsewhere. Only Gin knew about the headaches and it was going to stay that way. He couldn't let on to Ron and Hermione about this. They were depending on him. I mean, the whole bloody world was depending on him! Every second they bickered meant they had another chance to notice how hard it was for him to string two thoughts together.

And in his defense, Hermione wasn't exactly acting the way you'd expect someone with a bone sticking out of their leg to act. Course not. It would have been bloody un-Hermione-like.

"Harry, what do you think he meant? 'My demise was not unforeseen' Could it have been a prophecy? Or maybe he knew about Snape. It could have been that. Or maybe … hmm. Well, what do you think?" She rambled on like she was trying to solve an arithmancy problem or something, like she hadn't noticed how much of the blood on the floor was hers.

"I don't know." He said shortly. Why couldn't everyone shut up? Someone must've transplanted Dudley's dirt bike motor into the base of his skull while he was sleeping. He felt Ginny's hand tighten comfortingly in his own.

Ron was standing behind Hermione's chair with deep lines in his face that made him look a little like Aunt Marge's bulldog, Ripper, at his most protective, almost hoping from foot to foot with worry. "Are you mad woman? Your leg is almost half off, and all you can think about is that bloody letter! You've got to…"

"I don't have to do anything, Won-Won." She cut him off with a glare. "I'm a big girl. I don't need you to tell me what to do!"

"But your…"

"I'm not in any kind of pain. Are you even listening to me? I've told you twice now; I can't feel a thing with this charm on it. Are you ever going to shut up?"

"Hey!"

Thankfully, Myra chose that moment to arrive. She stood there in the door just staring at them like they were aliens out of one of Dudley's comics, followed by Charlie of all people.

Harry definitely did NOT want to know why Charlie was here at this hour of the morning or why Myra was wrapped up in a blanket. It was one thing to think about Ginny and him … but Charlie? Myra was an even worse mental image. Harry could feel his cheeks heat just thinking about it, and this definitely did nothing for his head.

It really was a good thing that no one was paying much attention to him by that point. It only took Myra a few seconds to stop starring and stride across the room, pulling off her afghan and handing it to a still stunned Charlie. By the time she whipped out her stubby wand and knelt down by Hermione, she'd adopted a tone that was very down to business, even if she still had some sarcastic humor to dish out.

"Dios mio, Hermione. ¿Qué te ha pasado?" She pursed her lips and muttered with a more pronounced accent than usual, not looking up from the leg. She sounded like she was scolding a small child for scraping their knees.

"Huh?" Ron looked a bit dumbfounded.

"I asked her what happened to her." Myra grunted.

Not to be outdone, Hermione tried to answer back. "Mi pee-air-na … es … malo …" Ron was staring at her, and Myra glanced up with a mocking grin.

Hermione's cheeks got red. "Oh, fine! I think I've broken my leg. Happy now?"

"Really. I couldn't tell." Myra said dryly, still preoccupied with the leg. "Charlie, could you fetch me my spare kit? It's up in the third cabinet from the stove. Charlie? Charlie, the kit?"

"Oh, right." Charlie said dumbly, starting out of the daze he'd been in since they first saw him. "Third cabinet."

"Sometimes I wonder about you, gatito." She rolled her eyes. "And you know that's not what I meant, Hermione. Even if I wasn't a healer, that sharp looking bone poking through your skin is a bit of a give-away, don't you think?"

Hermione harrumphed, and Ron rushed to her rescue. (Harry heard Charlie making a noise that sounded suspiciously like a gag.)

"She doesn't have to tell you a thing." Ron said loudly and crossed his arms.

Oh, why couldn't everyone stop arguing? Harry's head was really going to explode soon.

"Since it is my kitchen you chose to apparate into in the wee hours of the morning, I think I've got some right to know."

Her fingers drifted across Hermione's leg while she talked. The bone began to wiggle back inside of the bleeding gash, making a very disgusting sucking noise as it went. Charlie stumbled over with a packing box full of feathers and vials of potion and bits of gauze. Harry thought he even spotted a bezoar.

"Mendus Dermus." Myra said forcefully, fluttering her wand over the ragged wound. "That will take a moment. While we wait, you can tell me how you came across this lovely bit of scar tissue."

"And what if we don't?" Ron was still miffed for Hermione's sake.

"Look kid, I wouldn't ask if I didn't need to know. I have to figure out if there's anything else that might affect the internal healing of the leg. Rate of cell regeneration and a thousand other things might change depending on how she got it, especially if it was by magical means. Not that your Aunt and Uncle sound like the type to keep restricted magical potions in their pantry Harry, but I have to ask." No wonder she'd been put in Slytherin. That one could probably even barter with Uncle Vernon himself!

The skin around the wound was starting to knit together. There was no other word for it but knitting. It looked almost exactly like what Hermione did with a pair of needles and a ball of yarn.

"Nothing magical involved, Myra. I fell off of Ron's broom. First, last, and only time I will ever get back on that death trap." She growled, giving Ron a dirty look. In Ron's defense, anyone could have lost their passenger under those circumstances. And he did look very repentant.

"I know exactly what you mean." Myra shot a grimace at Charlie. "Those things are a menace."

If the hour hadn't been so late and everyone hadn't been so completely shattered, there would have been a number of arguments against this theory.

"Right then. You next General."

"Gerroff! I'll be alright."

"Don't be a brick, you little muppet. I'm going to give you a once over if I have to pin you down myself. Don't make me embarrass you in front of your girlfriend." She was really too small for the threat to be effective in Harry's opinion, but Ron sat down never the less.

"This is unfriendly looking." She commented while wrapping his forehead in potion soaked gauze. "Did you get these divots in your head by falling off the broom too?"

"Umm… err … yeah."

"You're a worse liar than Charlie, General, and that's a feat of nature."

"Hey! I'm a much better liar than you!" Charlie piped up from the corner where he was filling an extra chair with his compact, blocky frame and, from the looks of it, trying not to sick.

"Whatever you say, gatito. What happened Ron?"

Harry's friend finally cracked under the pressure of her stare. "A dementor, OK? There was a dementor."

"Hmph. Nasty things. Have you had any chocolate? Charlie, where'd you put the chocolate?" That was it. No real shock or panic like Harry had expected. She took the news fairly matter of factly.

"Charlie, you didn't eat it all again, did you? I tell you once, I tell you a hundred times! The chocolate in my kit isn't candy! It's a medical supply! Oh, that's foul looking, that one. You're going to feel that in the morning. It take it that's not from the broom fall either." She pressed a large blueberry bruise that clung to Ron's ribs and the red-head winced.

"Err, no. Dementors again."

Myra looked up from packing Ron's side with smelly sludge and bandages like she'd just figured out that they were on dangerous missions. "Dementors? As in plural? How many dementors have you been up against, kid?"

"I didn't sit there counting them! Besides, Harry took on the brunt of it. I um, well …"

Ron didn't have to finish. Now Myra was staring Harry down instead. "Well? How many?"

"Err… I dunno," He tried to think, tried to make everyone shut up, looking at Gin and Hermione for help. His head was going to crack soon. "Twenty, you reckon?"

"Bollocks!" Ron howled. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Sorry General, didn't mean to squeeze so hard. T … twenty you said?"

Myra had turned pale. She was not taking this so calmly anymore and suddenly looked a lot more adultish. He had a sinking feeling that she was going to start worrying over them and restricting them like the rest of the adults. This was the last thing he needed right now! On top of the fucking migraine, too! Next thing you know, she was going to hand him back to Remus on a silver platter.

Hermione, in her usual knowledgeable but dead unhelpful way, was trying to calm the other girl down. "No. There were only fourteen."

"Only fourteen." Myra repeated slowly.

"I just said that, didn't I?"

"ONLY fourteen? Fourteen dementors! Fourteen! Are you insane, or do you just have a death wish kid? How in the Hell did you even…" Myra had to really be upset to be broking that kind of language. "Charlie where is that chocolate?"

"Harry'll be alright." He heard Ginny speak up behind him with a touch of pride in her voice that he was rather flattered by. "His patronus was almost powerful enough to handle all of them by itself. Me and Hermione hardly had to lift a finger."

"I don't care how powerful you are, you've got to be experiencing some negative side effects from that many of those things. You lot have got to be more careful!" She had a look on her face that said she'd rather die than meet one. Come to think of it, he would rather die than get kissed too.

"I'm fine." He said shortly as Charlie dutifully stuffed chocolate into all of them. "Not a scratch on me. Ginny got hurt though."

"It's nothing." Said his girlfriend, clenching her jaw and looking a lot like Fred and George when they were determined.

"Let me see." Myra commanded. Gin reluctantly held out her arm.

"Oh, is that all?" The black-haired girl peered at some scratches. "Just little flesh wounds, nothing to worry about. We'll just clean them out and put on some ointment."

"That's it?" Ginny asked, relieved.

"Sure. You'll be right as rain in a few seconds. Gatito? Would you be a sweetie and help those two up to some rooms?"

"Sweetie?" Ron snickered under his breath as they left.

"Shut your gob, or I'll shut it for you."

"Sweetie!" Ron cackled until he started coughing. "Oh, my side!"

The door slammed behind them and Ginny let out a guilty breath before doing something he'd been praying she wouldn't do.

"Harry. Ouch!" She started, but winced at the wound cleaning potion. "Harry, you've got to tell her."

"No." Was the whole world conspiring to make the pain worse?

"What does he need to tell me?" Myra removed a jar of pink, hissing goo from her cardboard box.

"Ginny…"

"His head was hurting him."

"Not here. Later."

"No, Harry, you've got to tell someone about your head. If you don't trust Mr. Lupin enough anymore, at least talk to Myra. She's a healer, for Merlin's sake! This is what they do! She'll understand about the…"

"I said I'm fine." He was not going to tell anyone about this. Not even if it did feel like his ears were going to start bleeding!

"Harry, I know I'm not you best friend or anything, but if she thinks it's this important, maybe you should tell me."

"I'm fine! I'm just fucking fine! Why won't you all just leave me alone?" He raged.

Ginny was getting frustrated, but Myra just examined him in a cold, calculating way that made him a little uneasy. "Ginny, would you mind giving us a minute?"

"Fine. I've had it for tonight." She stalked out of the room.

When the last trace of red hair had exited, she shoved a vial of dull orange liquid into his hands. "Drink this." It wasn't a request.

"What…"

"It's for your head." She sounded annoyed.

He did what she wanted. He couldn't take anymore.

"Thanks." The throbbing started to fade almost immediately, but his gratitude was grudging.

"Well, no need to jump up and down."

"I said thanks."

"All I want to know is when they started and what the symptoms are. Don't stare at me kid. I could tell from the way that she talked about them that this has been a problem for a while now."

He said nothing.

"Look kid, I told you when I met you that this celebrity stuff doesn't impress me. You can't use your fame or your past to get me to do what you want. I'm stubborn like that. And right now the healer in me just wants to know what's wrong with you. So that means you're going to tell me, or else."

"Or else what?" Harry glared, defiant.

"Or else I'll sit on you." She glared right back, looking deadly serious. If she hadn't had such a straight face, he might have actually laughed. How long had it been since he'd laughed?

"What, you don't think I'll do it? They must not have told you at the order, but I'm quite mad. Completely off my head, according to my colleagues. Sitting on the boy-who-pissed-me-off is not a far stretch of the imagination."

"They started a few months before the end of school." He said wearily. "They hurt and sometimes it's hard to see. And I'm not going crazy."

"No more crazy than me kid. No more crazy than me." Somehow, Harry found this proclamation about as comforting as the time Luna Lovegood assured him that he was just as sane as she was. Myra must have seen his skepticism.

"Come off it now, you of all people should understand the freedom that being mad gives you. They were calling you bonkers for a while there too. You can do anything you like and people won't stop you for fear that you'll turn on them or because they assume you're harmless. It's really great fun. The only difference between us is they never stopped thinking I was crazy." There was a tinge of bitterness to that last part, and he felt a little sorry for her.

It only took a minute for her business-like tone to return.

"So, I'll look into what's causing this and see if I can't find some sort of remedy by the next time you pop in, no? Oh, and this is for you lovebirds in the meantime. I meant to give it to you before, but I had to wait until Charlie left." She handed him a rather large, tightly stoppered bottle labeled 'Madame Pointer's Prophylactic Potion'. "Stop by anytime if you need more."

She didn't even crack a grin! Just handed him a bottle of birth control like it was the most normal thing in the world!

"What makes you think that I … that we … err … what me and Ginny get up to is our own business."

"No need to get so huffy about it! I'm just trying to prevent you from getting your skull bashed in for impregnating her by mistake."

"I … we …" He gaped.

"It's just part my healer's nature to prevent pain and loss of important appendages, I can't help it."

"Well, what do you want me to say? Thanks for the illegal birth control potion?"

"That would be acceptable. The girl does have six brothers after all. I know for a fact that Charlie would probably try to strangle you. He might even succeed." She smiled fondly.

"After everything else I'm dealing with right now, I think Ginny's family is the least of my concerns." Why was he even discussing this with her?

"Don't be so sure, kid. He might not look it, but Charlie can be a bit of a hot-head sometimes. If he caught you two fooling around, I wager he'd be a whole lot more threatening than any death eater you'll ever meet. That man is as overprotective as a hen with one egg. Make that a dragon with one egg."

She might have a point there.

.ψ.

The intricate gears and springs of the heavy watch were hard to see by the dim light of the single, naked bulb. Charlie felt very nervous about trying to fix it. His fingers were too square and calloused by burns and high altitudes to work with something so delicate. He was far more used to sturdy wood and nails and working with his wand and his own two hands.

"That's as good as I can do, Ronnie. You're gonna have to take it to Mr. Coggs or someone." The little stars around its edges still weren't moving, but at least they glowed and sparkled with magical light again. Charlie was rather proud of himself for even repairing that much.

Ron looked down at the heavy gold pocket watch sadly. "You'll have to take it for me. We'll be off again as soon as everyone can walk."

"Figured out what you're after?"

"No idea." Ronnie flopped back against the headboard with a wince and stared at the ceiling while Charlie closed up the back of the watch.

"You should be more careful." He wasn't sure if he meant the watch or what the four of them were about to do (they hadn't told him much except the vague idea), but his little brother only heard the surface of things.

"I know. My coming of age present and all, too! I dropped it when the dementors… Aww, fuck, I hate those things."

"Mum'd wash out your mouth if she heard you." Sometimes Charlie wasn't sure if who was worse, Harry or Ron. They seemed to feed off each other; even if Harry was usually the more sensible and hadn't started swearing till a year ago, the paler boy had taken to Ronnie's favorite form of expression like a dragon to the sky.

"She would wouldn't she?" Ron grinned. "Hey Charlie?"

"Yeah?"

"Have you ever managed a patronus?"

"No." It took a fairly powerful witch or wizard to create a patronus under most circumstances. Charlie often felt inadequate when he thought about them. "I've tried a lot though. We're supposed to use them to carry messages to other Order members."

"I can't either." He mumbled.

"Don't worry; you'll get the hang of it. You're a lot more powerful than I am."

"That's just it! I've been trying! Everyone else I know from the DA can produce one except me. Hermione's got her otter, Harry's got his stag, even Ginny has one now. My baby sister for Merlin's sake! It's not fair."

Charlie decided that it was good to hear Ron complain, odd as that might seem. It meant that all was still right with the world. The sun would come up, the birds would sing, and Ronnie would complain. Charlie took comfort in the certainties of life, especially now that the future seemed so uncertain. He worried about them, all four of them, but especially his siblings. He had helped to raise them, he couldn't help it. It was hard to watch them stepping over the threshold of adulthood already carrying more than any man or woman ever should.

Charlie wished that he could do this for them and knew that he would murder anyone who ever hurt them, but they would be in this on their own. Harry had made it clear that he didn't want any help other than what he had and besides, Charlie had a job. Six to four in the dungeons and vaults of Gringots wasn't exactly wonderful, but it brought in some money and he was saving for a flat in Diagon alley. Either way, the four of them were flying solo.

Ron was soon out like a light. Charlie headed back towards the kitchen and Stella. Halfway there, he noticed a light in the room next to Hermione's. He peeked in to find Ginny crying.

"Gin?"

"What do you want?" She snapped. "Oh, it's you Charlie."

"Who did you think it was?"

She looked out the window and turned red. "No one."

Charlie had the sudden urge to murder a certain skinny, geeky looking boy. Any goodwill he had ever felt for him was thrown right out the window. He sat down at the end of her bed, using the rule of thumb for wounded creatures. Don't startle them or prod them and give them plenty of space.

"Did you two have a fight?" Charlie tried to sound gentler than he felt.

"No. Yes. I mean, yes –hic- but…" she dissolved into quiet tears and accepted his embrace, curling up in his lap for the first time since she was six. He could feel her whole body trembling. "It's not the fighting Charlie. I'm just so scared."

"Scared of him?" What was originally intended to be a quick murder suddenly became plans for a slow and painful death. Charlie was not going to let anyone hurt his baby sister!

"No, you great berk." She looked up at him with a drippy attempt at a smile. "Of … well. I don't know. God Charlie, I just …" She gestured helplessly in the air. Ginny was a great one for gesturing with her hands when she talked.

"I wake up sometimes and just watch him, and I think to myself: Is this the last time I'll ever get to see him? Is he going to die tomorrow?"

"Everyone does that, I think."

"But I'm not just being dopey and love struck, Charlie! He really could. Someday he's going to have to fight V…Voldermort, and I don't know if either of us are going to survive. Oh, don't flinch. Harry's right about that. No one should be afraid of a name."

"Only if you stop talking so suicidaly."

"It's not suicidal, Charlie. It's the truth. I'm fighting here too you know. I could … well, I could die any day. I'm alright with that, just as long as I go with Harry. The hard part is knowing that he's the one that they're after, that he's the one who will probably wind up dead. So I stay up and I listen to him breath and I think to myself: Ginny, if he dies, we aren't going to be able to live. There won't be anything left worth sticking around for. Don't look at me like that! I'm not some airheaded girl who doesn't know what life is about! I know this all just sounds like a first crush, but I know it's not. I'm in love Charlie! I love him, and it scares the crap out of me because I know that this is once-in-a-lifetime, real, honest-to-Circe love!"

Charlie had no idea what to say.

He just held her and let her cry again for a while, wishing he knew what to do.

"So, I take it you've been sleeping together." He whispered hoarsely and noted that that came out much more abruptly than he had intended it to.

"Yeah."

"Was he your first time?"

"Yeah."

"Well, that's good, I guess. You should love someone before you play hide the wand."

She snorted.

"You two are being careful, right?"

"Yes father. We aren't idiots."

"Here, wipe your nose." He loosened one of his arms from around her and indicated his sleeve.

"Thanks." She was full of snot and tears and a pair of bloodshot eyes. There were several more minutes of nose blowing and more sniffling.

"Haven't you ever loved someone like this?"

"Well … no."

"Not even Amara?"

"Nah, that was hatchling love. Not the real deal. Is it that serious with you two?"

"Would I be in here crying if it wasn't?"

"Point taken. You really are the toughest one of us all, you know? If anyone can love that git, it's you." He wasn't quite over the fact that the kid had taken Ginny's virginity.

"He's not a git."

"He does a really good impression of one sometimes."

"Give him a break. It's been a long couple of days."

"He's been through a lot, hasn't he?"

"You can say that again." Charlie could almost physically see a red wave of anger rise up inside her. "That house, those people! Those terrible people! I always thought he was exaggerating about them being so bad … but, oooh, I wish I could give them a piece of my mind! I did give them a piece of my mind, come to think of it."

"You sound like Mum when you say that. 'I'll give you a piece of my mind!"

She giggled.

"Besides, they can't be all that bad."

"Want to put some gold on that? You know, Harry broke down and told me they used to make him sleep in the cupboard under the stairs." She said sadly, looking like she wanted to run off to her boyfriend and hold him just thinking about it. "Can you even imagine?"

Charlie couldn't.

He was shocked. Strong, cocky, foul mouthed Harry? Growing up in an abusive home? He really couldn't imagine, couldn't even picture what it would be like not to have anyone love you. He'd always had his family. They were nutters, the lot of them, and they drove him mad, but Charlie never doubted that he was loved.

Charlie decided that in light of this new information, Harry could live … for a little while longer, at least.

.ψ.

Later that night, three couples fell asleep in each other's arms. They were exhausted, they were confused, and they were scared shitless, but for a few hours they knew the comfort and the peace that only comes when you hold on tight to the one that you love.

(Though Ron did get smacked before Hermione welcomed him into her bed…)

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Authoress's Notes: Hmm, theories about what happened on privet drive, anyone? As Harry, Charlie, Stella, and the rest of the gang head towards the 'final battle' if you will, I'm going to be writing my own predictions about how I think book seven might play out. A LOT of my hypotheses are based on the cryptic answers about book seven that JKR has given in her interviews over the years. I've also drawn conclusions from things that I think might be hints from through out the first six books. If you want to get a better idea of what's in the interviews, I would direct you to the Harry Potter Lexicon and Quick Quill Quotes dot org.

Originally, I had planned for Ron's watch to be some sort of family heirloom from the same grandfather who gave him his chess set. But I was looking around the HP lexicon and low and behold, what should I find? Ron actually DOES have a gold pocket watch! (Half Blood Prince, Ch.18) Specifically, 'a heavy gold watch with odd symbols around the edge and tiny moving stars instead of hands.' By coincidence (or maybe not?) Dumbledore owned something quite similar, described as 'a golden watch' and '… a very odd watch. It had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge.' Hmm… Oh, and I had a lot of fun calling Ron a muppet. I don't know why, but the name just seems to fit him perfectly when Stella uses it.

Possum- No, blood isn't very romance friendly. It isn't very Charlie friendly for that matter. (The poor boy has a bit of a weak stomach around blood, if no one has caught that by now, haha) But I promise, there will be some happy fluff –and other ahem … romantic things- next chapter! Just for you possum, just for you!

AquaFairy- Thank you. As always, you have made me blush profusely. I'm so happy to hear that you find this realistic; because that is one of the areas of my writing that I'm really tying to improve in right now. I like the kartunes too, and you might just see more of those… (Cough cough …maybe next chapter!) I hope the wait was worth it. Did you guess that it was Hermione?

HarryPotterMagic- You understood exactly what I was getting at with Charlie's character! Oh, I wish I could hug you. As for the cross cultural stuff, I'm slowly learning all of this myself because I plan to move to England or Ireland after getting my undergraduate degree and I don't want to be 'the dorky American'! Haha! I thought it was a nice touch to add into the story, as I see Stella as an average but fairly well traveled person. I hope the kitchen was all that you hoped for?

As for Fiddler … AHHH! The coincidences here are just frightening! I was in Fiddler my senior year of high school (one of my best friends did Yente, and man was she a hit. Did you do the accent? You can't be a good Yente without the accent!) Are you sure we weren't separated at birth or something? lol